The fight between sound and vision continues. Ran Slavin, an Israeli musician/director/roustabout, delivers Insomniac City to an audience unsure how to interpret the music and the film. Both are beautiful; both are tragic; both are indescribable. The film can't sit still, mirroring the atmosphere and the confusion of modern-day Tel Aviv (the setting of the film). The music, however, refuses to reflect the uneasiness of pain, confusion, and terror. The film tells one story, while the music tells another. Taking the film at face value, it's a visual treat. It's chaotic in its pursuit in combining the reality of death with the fantasy of dying. Slavin's soundtrack, however, accomplishes none of these — it focuses on the most abstract with little shift in mood. More like a soundtrack to a twisted modern-day Western than that of the fractured story of his film, the combination of the two fails to deliver one big bang. Watch the film on mute. Play the CD at night on a long drive home. Together, Slavin's works are as much as a match as Barry Goldwater and Jack Kennedy. Separately, each has the passion and intrigue of double agents in love.
1. In From
2. Free Fall
3. Distant Lights
4. Dusk and Dust
5. Midnight Cargo
6. Guitar Epic
7. Unfold-able Events of Double Natures
8. Interior/Exterior 1+2
9. Plans and Violins
10. Out Till Tomorrow
1. In From
2. Free Fall
3. Distant Lights
4. Dusk and Dust
5. Midnight Cargo
6. Guitar Epic
7. Unfold-able Events of Double Natures
8. Interior/Exterior 1+2
9. Plans and Violins
10. Out Till Tomorrow