4 Minutes With Lynette © 2005
Watch this didactically pretentious art-house film that I made. I was just waiting at Town Hall and I noticed this woman trying to raise money to stop AIDS. So I filmed her for 4 minutes. I'm sure the result reflects the brutality of our concrete society or something. It features the bitterly flamboyant music of a man on the street playing "Inspector Gadget" with beer bottles in the background. It's très existential.
Walk On By - 4 Minutes With Lynette
(.Mov - 10 MB - Right Click --> Save As)
Meet Lynette. Today she woke up and decided AIDS had to stop. So, she got out of bed, grabbed her little red bucket and positioned herself below the steps of Town Hall, sure that the whole of Sydney would support her cause with myrrh and love.
Pretentious Narration
Her body language remains strong, with only subtle hints of the cold-induced hollowness within. People swerve and occasionally walk right through Lynette as she tries to maintain some sort of eye contact on the off chance that another being with a soul will feel compelled to donate. A harsh wind blows past her and in a few moments, an even harsher foliage of people crash through the penumbra of her charity also. The responder notices that At times, it's hard to tell the difference between the cars and the people as both have emotionless visages and.. tinted windows. Clearly au fait with c'est la vie, her esprit brûle sous le ciel offensif.
The grainy film quality only enhances the sorrow. A baby approaches the woman, perhaps this untainted youth wishes to usher in a new hope for AIDS. But no, the baby is merely intrigued by the this woman and her red bucket. Clearly the hostility is a part of our genetic code.
The bucket rises...a cold rejection...the bucket drops. The bells of Town Hall strike. It's 5 pm. A busker across the street chimes in with a jingly tune. Accompanied by Lynette's struggle, the scene grows more harrowing in this tragic clash. The busker completes his song and a round of applause is heard. But where is Lynette's applause? Those repetitively conjoining hands are worshipping a sallow idol while Lynette and her bucket go unaccoladed. The camera looks up, the sky is blue and clear but why can't the see her? Perhaps she's a ghost, or perhaps she'd rather have a piece of toast*. No one claps for Lynette. No one knows she exists. No one cares.
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