ink \/\/ dreaming in fistfights
Eschewing my normal M.O. of reviewing the nougaty delights of expired pop culture, this week I’m going to tackle a film I’ve been waiting months to see.
Ink (2009), the new film by writer-director (producer-editor-etc.) Jamin Winans, circumvented the conventional Hollywood hype machine but still managed a +80,000% IMDB.com MOVIEmeter uptick in its first week of DVD release. Word-of-mouth, bloggers salivating over the film’s slick trailers, and the swelling of pirate site downloads have contributed to the surge in the film’s popularity despite the lack of a theatrical release. Ink tracks the impending battle between the benevolent Storytellers and the evil Incubi as both sides vie for the life of a young girl caught in their dreamscape world.
As soon as you wake up each morning and head toward that first bowl of Lucky Charms, the ghost-smoke of your dreams tend to wisp away into the day. Some impressions of your dreams stick on occasion, generally the most gruesome or ecstatic, but most disintegrate into the mass of quotidian bullshit that constitutes an unfortunate amount of our waking life.
But Ink, an expansive and ambitious independent film, captures that ghost-smoke of our dreaming life and holds it on-screen. Â No mean feat.
The film understands that the fuel of dream actions is the emotion behind them, not plotting and mechanics that justify them. For example: in flying dreams, my soaring is an expression of my euphoric revelation of elevation, not because it fits my convoluted dream-plot. Fighting innumerable faceless baddies is a manifestation of an emotion, be it a seething rage or a boundless loyalty to some imperiled family member. The emotion makes the action.
It's a long dark road for this little girl.
Using a range of visual effects and camera techniques along with dynamic soundtrack and editing, Winans and co. emphasizes the emotions that sluice through the film, thus giving life to the visual spectacle of his dreamscape. The final battle between the shadowy glow worm-eyed Incubi and the attractive outnumbered everymen of the Storytellers isn’t overly choreographed.  The fight moves aren’t meticulously catalogued and exclaimed upon by a worshipful camera. They do have a giddy chopped up multi-POV feel that reflects real dream fights. But the action is merely an extension of the emotions: desperation and a willingness to sacrifice.
When Storyteller Allel (Jennifer Batter) tries to repulse the clawing Incubi horde at the moment of peak drama, we’re not witnessing Allel vs. Incubi but instead the visual representation of a final loyal gesture. You could say that any character’s action in a film could be construed as symbolic of an emotional gesture, but Winans pushes this notion to a kind of purity. Outside of protagonist John (Chris Kelly), father of the fought-over little girl, the other characters exist as emotional impressions on the canvas of the film. They are sans backstory, shorn of introspection, and naked in their motivation: save the girl or kill the girl.
The thrill of flight + yellow pants.
Typically, this lack of character complexity or development would unchain the snarling screenwriter in me, but Ink operates on an atypical dream-soaked plane. The rules are different but don’t cheapen the result. The result is enthralling but doesn’t exploit the audience.
Ink manages to simultaneously reveal and capture the emotion-driven pulse of the dreamworld. Â It’s a gripping film experience.
Ink is available via its official website, streaming via Netflix, and at your local Blockbuster.
Photo Credits: RowThree, SaraFryd
