Triptych No.2 is a collaborative work by Grannell Knox and Sophia Tragash
Grannell Knox takes a serious haircut in this thought-ass provoking documentary. The barbershop of horrors in this case refers to his long-dead hair that loses length to the tyrannical yoke of sharpened edges working together in a scissoring motion. For those unaware ‘taking a haircut’ refers to taking a loss on the sale of a particular asset. By doing this outside in what appears to be New York City they make a serious statement. Such losses are inevitable and in fact part of life. Life without loss is life without purpose. Having a loss is a thing to be proud of and is celebrated in specific small instances. Over the course of this movie Grannell and his less-seen hair cutting expert lament the loss of hair on his head, whilst the hair on his chinny-chin chin remains quite intact.
Scenes are separated by angle, time, and action. Though they appear to be synced up at first the gradual progression suggests otherwise. Grannell is a rather attractive affable chap. Sophia keeps herself hidden. Rare glimpses of her suggest an artist busy at her work. Despite the camera’s peculiar focus she is the main attraction. Without her it would descend into Andy Warhol-esque quality with a simple unmoving scene of a man staring blankly at nothing in particular. Some of those blank stare movies do quite well. Jim Jarmusch has made an entire career out of bleeding out any form of action from movies, leaving a negative impression, ghostly traces of what is commonly referred to as ‘interesting’ or ‘plot’.
Plot takes a backseat in this intensity. Various sun locations imply a sense of time. Judging from the light this was filmed at or around ‘Golden Hour’ when filming conditions are ideal for filming. This time indicates a sense of temporary comfort. Otherwise it would be an ordinary haircut. Placement on the roof shows an additional vulnerability. Neither participant looks particularly heavy. If a strong gust of wind came about Grannell or his hairdresser Sophia could be tossed asunder. Haircuts on a roof are no place for a haircut. Various attributes make a rooftop haircut somewhat better. Fallen hair from the head can be blown like ashes, dead remnants of already dead hair.
The purpose of this film remains something of a mystery. Is it a way to get others to contemplate future roof-bound haircuts? Or is the meaning deeper? Can one get a clearer view from more vulnerable positions? Is there such thing as an immediate present, or is the present a constant flux, a churn of the past mixed with hope for the future. It is too hard to tell.
Review written by Beach Sloth.
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