The Time We Killed
Directed by Jennifer Reeves
Reviewed by Catherine MacLennan
Too depressed to leave her apartment in New York, too depressed to write, too depressed to interact with people, the psyche of the main character in Jennifer Reeves' film The Time We Killed is revealed in the character's dark narration, fantasies, as well as in the depiction of her current surroundings. Scenes of remembered former lovers leads away in time and place but we are continually brought back to the closed in familiarity of her apartment - the crushing present - the walls, the couch, the radiator, and the voices intruding from the neighbors' lethal arguments next door.
A few people try to make contact with her but she shuts them out. She wonders if she has lost the nerve she had, recalling her teenage years and suicide attempt. Still freshly out of 9-11, watching the news of the invasion of Iraq only adds to her feelings of helplessness; she sends pots and plates flying as televised bombs are dropped.
Played by the poet Lisa Jarnot, the character speaks in a sullen and often flat tone, the sound further flattened and muffled by the 16mm sound distortion, an inward voice devoid of energy.
Shot in black and white, the texture of the film is significant and effective at creating mood and emotional context. The camera traces the details of the walls, the radiator, bringing the details out and closer, making the apartment more confining. Corresponding to her gloom, the black of the black in white film becomes oily and syrupy in certain scenes, such as when she is soaking in the bathtub or sitting on the couch. When George Bush appears on TV, he is not in the crystal clear version that we usually see him, but in the slightly distorted way of the film and of the character's mind. The film is lighter in appearance, almost a glowing grain when fond faces of the past or fantasies are shown. The plucky hopping birds, the detail of a wing, the numerous tiny snowflakes of snow blowing against the window convey both confinement yet are also reminders that there is an outside world (and are beautiful visual images in themselves). At the end, she walking up the street - taking steps again towards interacting with the world.
The Lamp, October 2004