Not
since Ernie Kovacs has anyone dared attack the sea of media noise with
an island of quiet genius. Damon Zex’s Checkmate, an absurdist
film, examines control and its relationship to sexual repression. This
minimalist theatrical experience, set to Mahler, commences with a chess
game between man and woman and descends into a nightmarish ritual of
sadomasochistic eroticism. When viewing Checkmate one immediately notices
the Kubric gone dada, Chaplin/Sellers quality permeating the mood of
this cinematic phenomenon. Checkmate conjures the subliminal collective
memory of a time when the media was an escape into other worldliness
and fuses that time with the pre-apocalyptic paradigm of the twenty-first
century. However, whether or not this piece is viewed for its philosophical,
stylistic, or performance merits, once viewed it cannot be forgotten.
In an age of tiresome debate, worn out reruns, banal music videos, second
rate talk shows, pitiful sitcoms, and overrated blockbusters, Checkmate
is precisely the breath of fresh air the disabled entertainment industry
needs.
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