Office Christmas Party
Another reminder that allowing your cast to madly improvise instead of actually providing a coherent script with a scintilla of inherent logic often leads to…
"Echoes of Silence" is hardly a movie at all, in the way we ordinarily use the word, and yet it is a sincere and rather effective film. Its flaws are honest ones, made for the right reasons, and there is not a false moment in it.
Like much of the other work coming out of Jonas Mekas' Filmmaker's Cooperative, it has a structure but no plot, and this is particularly infuriating to a generation raised on mass-produced potboilers. The evening I saw it, several couples walked out. Serves them right for believing those ads about "life and love in our mod world."
Peter Emanuel Goldman's characters live as far away as possible from the "mod world," probably through choice. The landscape they inhabit in this film is bounded by those two very different streets of garish despair, Macdougal St. in Greenwich Village and 42nd St. in Times Square.
What they seem to do, most of the time, is cruise around looking for someone to fall in love with. This is what most young people do, in one way or another, but Goldman's characters do it with a helpless and naive intensity. They are almost always unsuccessful of course.