The Dabbler - A Reid Gershbein Film

Reid Gershbein’s arthouse indie film, The Dabbler, begs the question, “What would you do and what would you care about if everything in the word was suddenly broken?”

Set in a world of economic stress, sexual freedom, unattained goals, The Dabbler gives us a meandering look at the disillusionment that often accompanies life in these United States. It’s cause & effect. Through one character we see self-pitying defensiveness when he’s pressured to identify and commit to his goals. We’re introduced to a woman whose life has more meaning when she’s surrounded and “intimately touched” by complete strangers. And we see a man who’s life has become a ticking time-bomb of  stress, so much so that he enlists help from a mysterious magical box for relief.

As I watched the film I honestly felt like I was peering through the window to Reid’s soul. I quickly recognized his laid-back influence as the film takes a very subtle approach in addressing the cataclysmic breaking of the world. In an age where people freak-out at the slightest inconvenience it’s interesting to watch a film where the characters react in almost a ho-hum way to a world with no power, no lights, no electricity, and no Blackberrys. Truthfully, we’re not given much to react to either, as the lack of power is so lightly touched on that it’s barely a subplot. The main story lies with the characters and how having their phones, electricity etc, taken away forces each to confront their own existence.

I had the privilege of watching the film full screen 1280 x 720 and I had to consider that the “shaky cam” might be a bit jarring or simply too much if I were to watch on a smaller screen. That said, the photography is beautiful (as usual) and Reid has chosen charming locations that reek of character and history.

Cheryl Fidelman’s character was the most prolific, intuitive, introspective and even annoying at times. Fortunately I catch on quickly and I carefuuly watched her character grow in the film; growth that reached a climactic crescendo during a spoken word sequence where she proclaims, “…the funniest thing about us is that we think we have all this time… instead of embracing the magic that’s here…right now.“ 

Whoop! There it is. A call to action to embrace the here and now; to choose to find joy in the present day instead of putting off happiness until you get that new car, new home, new phone, new lover, new job, new life… new you. So lightly touched on I found myself wondering if enough people who watched the film would get it. Then I thought, even if only one or two get it, that’s all a filmmaker could ask for.

The shortest distance between any two points is a straight line…and Reid avoids that straight line like the plague. Instead, he takes us on a journey through conversation, epic landscapes and wandering thoughts. Finding the meaning behind the meaning requires skill, or at the very least, focus. But as the theme of the film suggests, the joy isn’t in reaching the destination, it is in the journey.

The Dabbler is available to all under the Creative Common’s license. Watch and/or download it here.

Here. My Explosion...

When Reid Gershbein twittered (@thraveboy) about posting his film, Here. My Explosion… online I was excited. Weeks earlier, Reid and I had collaborated with several others on a Twitter-based roundtable discussion about DIY distribution for indie filmmakers. My truncated take on Reid’s essay was this: make a film, show it for free, let people pay you what they want. Now, here he was, putting his film where his mouth was. I was impressed with the action. Lots of folks talk about doing something. Very few actually do something.

Reid incorporated a funny sales pitch (if you will) with his film, offering “nothing for something” to all. What’s the nothing? Air. Bonafide, where-ever-you-live air.  If you liked the film and wanted to contribute to the actor’s personal fund, you can show your appreciation and receive good ole air for the price of $1. Call me big spender: I bought $2 worth of Los Angeles air before I ever saw one frame of the movie. Us indie filmmakers gotta stick together (and it’s 1/5 the price of a movie ticket!).

Whenever I watch a film I must tame my natural tendencies. I am a huge fan of the three-act structure; I look for it and expect it when I sit down to watch a film. However, when I watch an art film I curb that desire to look for specific plot points and try to leave myself open to experience everything and anything the filmmaker had in mind. I took that position with Here. My Explosion… and it worked well. 

I liked the film. It was beautifully and artfully shot with what I expect was a nominal production budget. The locations and art design were glorious, the San Francisco scenery puts everything in LA to shame and the performances were laid back enough to convey what I believe is the general mood of the film: chillaxing.

The first twenty minutes reminded me of something I heard in screenwriting class: the time to slowly explore your characters and story is in the beginning because that’s when you have the time. In other words, if you want to delay your pay-offs or let the story evolve at a slower pace, do it in the beginning, when it’s expected. Here. My Explosion… follows that format in letting us get involved in the characters’ lives — from a fly on the wall perspective — after setting up an interesting plot point with the main character and her coffee cup. The story shifts from that plot point but leaves adequate clues that there is something mysterious, or even magical, left to happen with said coffee cup.

Reid adheres to a very deliberate and nonchalant speed in his storytelling. If you are expecting flash and bang, or generic indie drama, it doesn’t happen.  One could say this works in the film’s favor;  I was left hanging over my laptop furious at times with the characters about their lackadaisical response to the surreal events. I guess you can say I was engaged, forcibly so by Reid’s clever employment of indifference in some scenes.

The film includes additional, yet subtle themes of freedom, capitalism, escapism and unrequited love. There was even a point where the neanderthal man in me responded to a misdirection and eagerly looked forward to seeing Sera and Tegan kiss. 

I didn’t necessarily like all the characters, but enough of them were interesting enough to warrant the time investment to see their stories play out. In the end, I sat for 75 minutes to watch the film on my computer. And as I understand it, I am not alone. According to the most recent tweet I am aware of, over 14,000 people have watched Here. My Explosion… online. That’s a helluva lot of free air.

Watch the film here 

Download the film here

Find Reid Gershbein on Twitter