Sitting on his bed, Babyface goes through slides of his ex-girlfriend. He later watches the slides in his family room.
He walks down the city street and passes the bus depot. He envisions her there, wind blowing through her hair. Snow begins to fall and old newspapers fly by on the sidewalk.
Filmed upside down, wearing a green suit, he sings. Also filmed upside, with a sky blue background, is his ex-girlfriend.
Back on the street, he sings in the rain. People walk by with umbrellas.
In black-and-white, a person runs by an abandoned building.
His ex-girlfriend looks up at the sky, and runs her hands through her wet hair.
In flaming red, a silhouette of his ex-girlfriend walks with her hands in her pockets. He stands against the same background. He stays in the corner while she is up front.
He walks into the subway and stands by the train. Snow falls within the station. She spins around, her hair strewn with snowflakes.
In the family room, he continues to watch the slides. After a brief cut to all the scenes, he sees her walk in the room. He approaches her and touches her shoulder.
The projector turns off.
Reminiscing through the slides turns his memories into a film, casting her as the star of his life. She can make the most mundane thing as drinking coffee a moment to capture on film. Viewing her onscreen makes her larger than life.
However, the emphasis on the weather is confusing. His fair weather outlook features her in the background, smiling and playful. It’s neither gloomy or life-threatening. He romanticizes his hurt, recreating a version of her that didn’t exist. The bits of stylized flash – filming upside down and the vibrant lighting – turn the breakup into a sideshow, angling for spectators. It’s a put-on display of emotion, selling it at the lowest price.
Director: Liz Friedlander Year: 1996
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