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Video, 26 minutes,
1991
The 1991 video
Son of Sam & Delilah, by Charles Atlas, is as entertaining
as it is disturbing. It opens with the confession of a raging
homophobe, whose raving (expletives deleted) is suddenly interrupted
by his being shot through the head by a mysterious gunman.
The killer reoccurs throughout, without any of the usual cinematic
warnings -- the viewer, like the characters, is taken by surprise.
The killings are always bloody and always fatal, taking place
with universal indifference. The merciless killer is sometimes
shown as a beautiful long-haired young man, portrayed by the
tall and energetic Almon Grimsted, who alternately dances
with total abandon and plays the indifferent and inevitable
killer. He also appears as Samson in the romantic love scenes
with Delilah, exquisitely portrayed by John Kelly. (There
appears to be a box of condoms on the night table as Delilah
seduces Samson.)
We are taken into
the apartment of a transvestite, played by the witty Hapi
Phace, who has a visitor, another transvestite. They both
parody rich, spoiled women, whose main concern is shopping,
shopping, gossip, sex, and shopping. We are told that Hapi's
apartment is smelly, something we can actually "perceive"
from the screen. Hapi points out that while her visitor is
from Queens, she is from normal parents. Hapi bends down to
reach for something in her refrigerator and Atlas cuts to
the killer, seen from the same angle, bending down to fight
with a big black dog. The killer shouts "You're crazy!" at
the dog, who seems to reply (an allusion to the "real" Son
of Sam's dog, who he claimed told him to kill). If you look
carefully, you see the dog is just playing rough, but this
is supposed to be a horrible animal-teasing situation. Many
scenes are intercut by Delilah's arias from Samson et Dalila
(by Camille Saint-Saëns -- unfortunately uncredited)
sung by the enchanting John Kelly, dressed as Delilah. She
stands in front of several excellent sets painted by Max DiCorsia,
Elizabeth Eaton, and Fernando Santangelo. Atlas lets us gaze
at the "Temple of Baal" set for a while, after Samson and
Delilah exit.
All this is punctuated
by a very energetic and witty dance performance by DANCENOISE
-- two very tough women hack at decapitated stuffed dummies,
screaming at each other and terribly annoyed at running out
of stage blood. The killer enters and shoots them both. We
watch them as they bleed to death, calling this experience
worse than getting their periods.
Unexpected indifferent
killings, bleeding, and dying are recurring themes throughout
this video, as are Delilah's arias. Disco dancers are shot
down one by one while others continue dancing, as if to say,
life continues, no matter what. One by one they too are shot
down. Every time a scene gets too painful, Mr. Atlas quickly
cuts to the seductive Delilah, singing from the enchanting
opera. In one scene, she is removing her make-up backstage,
all the while singing, her voice a little muffled, as she
wipes her lips with the tissue. She looks at the camera coquettishly,
as the video itself does from time to time: by allowing production
details, such as calls to cut a scene or clapboard countdowns
to stay in the final version. This "unveiling" reminds one
of the last scene of Fellini's E la Nave Va (And the Ship
Sails 0n), which reveals the structure on springs under
the stage that was the ship's deck.
Crisp photography
and thoughtful editing make this video an aesthetic pleasure
to watch, while alerting the viewer to the problem it addresses.
The indiscriminating killer among us, kills us one by one,
without asking any questions, without giving any reasons.
Son of Sam killed lovers just because they were lovers. Delilah's
betrayal in the guise of love led to Samson's eventual death.
Today's major killer also comes in the midst of love.
Charles Atlas's
Son of Sam & Delilah is full of camp and vaudeville,
tough women and sweet men, and many tongue-in-cheek pop culture
references. Paul Gibson's thoughtful lighting and mindful
photography and Scott Lifshutz's art direction provide a rich,
clear, and uncluttered mise-en-scene. Mr. Atlas's editing
is fast paced -- he never bores us. He edits to say what he
has to say, but also takes care to soothe us after he shocks
us, and then makes sure to wake us up again after he has calmed
us down. The viewer of Son of Sam & Delila is in
good hands.
Anne Tardos and
Jackson Mac Low
New York, 4 June
1992
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