Beatrice Gibson's At Night, shot on film and entirely at night, is a thing of beauty. It concerns a group of women as they converse about anything from family, motherhood, desire, economic inequality, to sex under dim fluorescent lights of late night cafes, restaurants and clubs, of the deserted back-alleys of Paris.
"I am a tone of voice." starts At Night, an experimental film by Gibson, making her feature debut here. Sparsely narrated by poet Alice Notley, whose book-length feminist epic poem, The Descent of Alette, is the basis of the film. We are introduced to B, a filmmaker (Gibson herself), doing location scouting for her new project, away from her partner and daughter, taking the night Metro into town. In her voiceover phone call to Didi (Diocouda Diaoune), a one time collaborator of her previous films, B lets her friend know that she is in town, is going to be near her neighborhood and wants to meet up. Their encounter comes in a little later in the film, with their story interweaving, in and out of focus, with the rest of the film.
Then there are others, six women - writer, philosopher, sex worker... all together in a restaurant, talking candidly about their life experiences, jumping from one topic to another. They talk about being naked in front of their partners, engaging in sexual activities. The lights on or off while having sex suddenly becomes an important topic. Why do we need to have 'big lights' on? "Night is for everyone, therefore more democratic," says one of the characters in JLG's Hellas pour moi. Their conversation reminded me of the quote. Indeed. Darkness hides our imperfections, our sins, our true self, therefore everyone is equal.
In their fluid conversation, nursing, parenthood, homosexuality, gender and economic disparities are all game. The night is young, the flow of their talk feels natural and limitless. It feels like watching six life-long friends just shooting shits, all captured on verité style 16mm film (shot by frequent Gibson collaborator and fellow filmmaker Ben Rivers). And it's sublime.
B runs into Didi in a 24 hour convenience store and they get an opportunity to catch up when the store loses power and they get trapped inside. Under the dim fluorescent light, the two women, sitting on the floor against the cooler, talk about life's struggles. Didi, a single mom living in a public housing, with her daughter, says that B's struggle in life is not the same as hers- different economical background, B's privilege as a white woman is checked when Didi says, "You think you win, and you think I lose…but I don’t see the point of playing a game where you’re always winning.”
Not since Chantal Akerman's Toute une nuit, night is portrayed with such warmth and melancholy like in At Night. Night is a great equalizer, but also an enabler where people can act and talk on impulses with impunity. You might regret what you are saying now. But we will worry about it tomorrow.
We run into artist/performer, Madam (Adam Christensen), in the back alley taking a cigarette break with his theater buddies, recounting a robbery, while being harassed by some young hooligans. Later we see him in full drag performing in a dimly lit club. Accompanied by his accordion, his voice is haunting. Everyone who appeared in the film shows up at Madam's show, enjoying their sisterhood, connected by music, love, guilt, and desire, all encased in velvety night. A welcome reprieve from the daytime world. At Night is a beautiful film.
