Countdown
On the night of the 2008 Presidential Election, while New Yorkers are gripped by the anticipation of the results, French-Romanian pianist Alexandra Joan braces herself for her Carnegie Hall debut.
MY COUNTDOWN TO NOVEMBER 4TH, 2008As a director, I always strive to seek out meaningful behavior that may reveal an original emotional experience that would grab hold of the audience. This would be especially true in a documentary such as Countdown - a French-Romanian pianist, Alexandra Joan, is going through a personally stirring roller-coaster, as she is getting ready to perform at Carnegie Hall, coincidentally, on the night of the 2008 Presidential Election. The intensity of her pre-performance anxiety was somewhat familiar to me, from my own piano performance experience as a child.
I was also fascinated by the world’s intensely passionate involvement in the 2008 election campaign. It was evident from the news reports around the world, as well as from the interviews I conducted on Election Day that people were taken over by the kind of anxiety that went beyond political affiliations or beliefs. Use of language to defend one’s position seemed almost trivial. Letting myself get lost in the delirium of Election Day, it only seemed fitting to spend the day following a musician, a foreigner, deeply invested in her own journey, seemingly unrelated to the events of the election, but curiously appropriate. Her rehearsals and then the performance of Rachmaninov’s 2nd Piano Sonata might have become for me the passageway to that intangible expression of excitement and solidarity I was looking for on such a momentous day. Looking ahead to the editing process, my objective as a director quickly shaped itself into a simple juxtaposition of people’s anticipation of the election with the pianist’s activities leading up to the performance. I wasn’t sure what would come out of it, as it seemed impossible to put the connection into words. I only found myself occasionally calming my angst-ridden friend by saying that whatever happens in the recital hall or with the film is all right, as long as our guy gets elected. Finally I was sitting at the majestic Carnegie Hall, overflowing with Rachmaninov’s nostalgic ecstasy. Washed over by music’s uniquely transcendental language, I could only imagine the intensity of the experience for the performer. For me, the music had a prophetic quality as I occasionally glanced at the latest election results on my DP’s iPhone, wondering for a moment if the music was making them happen. As the recital concluded, it was not the long-awaited sense of strength and triumph that was emanating from the performer, but rather a disorienting weightlessness and self-doubt. It must not have been over yet. Now arming ourselves with a sense of purpose, we rushed to the heart of Election Plaza and thrust ourselves into its throbbing constellation of energy. It was 10:55 p.m. EST. |