A 'Dollar well spent at benefit The Boston Globe February 10, 2001

by Karen Campbell

".... The concert was rounded out by a 16-mm animated film by Bridget Murnane, "Tournant." Cut-out figures ranging from Nijinsky to Cunningham, danced a fun, fanciful jog, with bodies upended and spun like pinwheels or dropped like hailstones from underneath the voluminous skirts of Martha Graham. It was visually arresting and charmingly witty

Murnane Makes Magic Marriage of Dance and Film

The Boston GlobeNovember 6, 1999 
by Thea Singer

Film and video maker Bridget Murnane makes dance movies with a choreographic sensibility. Whether her materials are human bodies or cardboard-backed cutouts from 15 years' worth of Dance magazine, she uses the true-to-life mediums of film and video not so much to document as to create illusion and to explore spatial and temporal relationships. 

The seven pieces in her program run from the abstract to the fictional to the explanatory. She excels at the first: image making, it seems, is her forte: revealing truths through snippets of memory and the interplay of light, shadow, and form 

Consider "Tournants" (1987), a 10 minute animation extravaganza featuring photographic cut outs of famous dancers from the 19th and 20th centuries. Nijinsky, literally, flies apart, losing arms, legs, torso, and finally head (he's just succumbed to madness). Balanchine spins center screen, partnering myriad New York City ballerinas (they were his muses, and some, later, his wives). Merce Cunningham drops from Martha Graham's swoop of a skirt (he danced with her company before forming his own). The piece is a whimsical lesson in animation technique (which requires control of time and space) and dance-concert history- complete with a cut out of Murnane, the ultimate choreographer, taking the final bow. 

"For Dancers" (1990), too, a 17 minute exploration of four discrete works, takes the viewer on an often magical journey through time and space. Murnane visually eavesdrops on tap-dancer Fred Strickler, who, in an homage to Fred Astaire, skims round tables and past sconces in full-figured glee. She fixes her gaze on Iris Pell in a solo by Bella Lewitzky to illuminate the stage space that light alone can create. She follows Louise Burns from studio to woodlands to seaside to porch front to show how the camera can seamlessly break barriers. And, in the tour de force of the evening, she cracks apart the choreography of Susan Rose, who sits on a box against a red background and moves to the pulsing, wailing music of Megan Roberts. The camera isolates a trembling hand here, knees forced open there, a pumping foot, a thrusting arm. It is an incredible powerful look at one artist simultaneously collaborating with and controlling another. 

Of the more realistic movies - "The Black Boots" (1996), "Susan Rose and Dancers (1998), Rehearsal" (1999), MG303 Series (1999), and "Susan and Me" (1999) - Murnane was best when she used her subjects most purely as dynamic shapes. For example, in the MG303 Series she trained her camera on Susan Rose's feet, which, sporting short black boots, twisted and dragged and intertwined with each other as Rose pushed a card. Or, in the same work, Kelli King, also shot from the calves down, speared those boots with a pink toe shoe. It is in such scenes that Murnane's innate dance intelligence and understanding of rhythmic and textural complexity shine. The dance world needs more such contributions to blow its mind wide. 

Dance

The Boston Herald  July 12. 1996
by Karen Campbell

Cambridger resident Bridget Murnane's delightful short dance film "The Black Boots," which was screened at the Boston Women's Cinema Festival last April has gone on to have quite a busy summer.  In June alone, the film was screened at the international Dance Screen 96 in Lyons, France, the American Dance Festival as part of the first Dance Camera Festival, the Long Island Film Festival and the Wine Country Festival in northern California.  In the fall, the film will air on WGBH as part of the PBS series "New Television," executive produced by fellow Cantabridgian Susan Dowling.  Don't miss it.  It's only 10 minutes long, but it deals with a dancer's crisis of artistic faith and her renewed commitment to her art form with whimsy, compassion and a slight surrealistic quality that is compelling.  Marcus Schulkind choreographed the film, which begins with one of his classes at Green Street Studios, and Jeanine Durning is the film's protagonist, giving an impressive dramatic turn as well as a gorgeous movement performance.
 
 

FUN SUMMER ROMP WITH 'ODILE AND YVETTE'

The Boston Globe February 3, 1995
by Betsy Sherman

Anyone needing a bit of "that summer feeling," as Jonathan Richman put it , should step into the world of Odile and yvette.  Over the course of a voluptuous summer day, the teen-age sisters in Andre Burke's feature cross the threshold into a land where their wishes are fulfilled.  Gentle complications ensue; the movie is not so much about the place they get to as about the process of getting there.  Actually, you should forget about demanding that the movie be "about" something definable, and just sink into the sense-tickling experience.
 Presumably inspired by Jacques Rivette's whimsical "Celine and Julie Go Boating" (with a nod to "The Double Life of Veronique" in the cinematography), "Odile and Yvette at the Edge of the World" has been reframed by writer-director Burke into a semi-surreal slice of American pie.  It was filmed in a rural area outside of Austin, Tex., and its marvelous lead actresses - Karen Skloss as Odile and Heather Roheim as Yvette - are of sturdy stock (finally, a movie about adolescent girls that takes place far from a mall).  But there is a European flavor; the movie unfolds slowly, with little dialogue, and requires that the audience meet it half-way.
 Older Odile and younger Yvette escape from the back seat of their father's station wagon and ramble into the woods.  yvette is taking Odile to a special place where something magical, maybe, is supposed by happen.  The suspense is enhanced by the interweaving of Blake Leyh's chimes-dominated music with the natural forest sounds, and by Odile's alternating titillation and frustration.  Is Yvette stringing her along or what?
 Through a big drain pipe, they make it to a river basin.  Yvette's powers may have to do with the dime-store novelty items she takes out of her case.  Following Yvette's lead, Odile - verging on trendy in her '70's retro clothes - conjures up a boy who would make a Sassy reader's lips smack.  Johnny is lean and slightly exotic, with dreamy brown eyes and long hair that anticipates Brad's in "Legends of the Fall."  "Wanna go for a swim?"  is his not-to-be-passed-up invitation.
 Johnny certainly brings some complications into the day, as he shifts his attention from Odile to yvette.  But Burke doesn't let the film fall into a predictable triangle mold.  There is one turn of events that could have used a tad more imagination and there is something of a "hugh?" feeling at the end, but the sights and sounds of "Odile and Yvette" nicely float in the psyche, like a gorgeous bubble.
 
 

EDGE OF THE WORLD' WILL BOWL YOU OVER

The Boston Herald February 3, 1995
by Paul Sherman

 "Odile & Yvette at the Edge of the World" is a rare treat - a movie with a no-name cast and no hype that simply knocks you out.
 The gem in last spring's Boston International Festival of Women's Theater, it returns for a well-deserved run at the Coolidge Corner.
 Out of left field - actually, Texas - writer-director Andre Burke's debut taps into the imagination of two sisters.  (The film also has local ties; Burke, who'll be at Sunday night's show is a Harvard grad, and it was produced by Emerson film instructor Bridget Murnane.)
 Like the recent "Heavenly Creatures," "Odile & Yvette" is a wondrous blend of the fantasy and reality comprising two teen-agers' flights of fancy.  These two sisters ditch their tedious dad during a day trip and enter a forest where younger Yvette (Heather Roheim) leads Odile (Karen Skloss) to a place where, she says, their deepest wishes come to life.
 What happens - appearances that may be apparitions, events that may be fantasy - doesn't sound nearly so involving as how Burke and company portray them.  The movie looks clear and bright yet has a layered depth fitting for its introspective themes.   Although Burke's direction is remarkably assured, as are the young actresses, the real start may be composer Blake Leyh, who creatively sustains the other-worldly mood that totally hooks you.
 Seemingly inspired in both title and "Alice in Wonderland" - style female fantasy by the 1970's art house hit "Celine and Julie Go Boating," "Odile & Yvette" is a refreshingly non-exploitative movie about teens.  Despite its humble origins, it puts most of the current competition to shame.
 
 

ODILE AND YVETTE AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

Variety May 9-16, 1994
by Daniel M. Kimmel

Reminiscent of early Peter Weir films, especially "Picnic at Hanging Rock," Andre Burke's "Odile and Yvette at the Edge of the World" is a provocative allegory about the innocence and yearnings of two teenage girls.  It premiered at the 1993 Edinburgh Film Festival in advance of the Boston Intl. Festivals of Women's Cinema unspooling, and could have limited possibilities on the art house circuit.
 Two sisters, Odile (Karen Skloss) and Yvette (Heather Roheim), escape from their father during a road trip in Texas, where film was shot.  yvette promises to take Odile someplace where her wishes will come true.  Through unexplained magic using mundane novelty items, Yvette prevents their father from catching them.  Eventually they find - or conjure up - Johnny (Noah Fisher), a strapping young man who is at first taken by Odile but is soon drawn to Yvette.  Feeling betrayed, Odile has to figure out how she will regain control of her own life.
 Write/director Andre Burke and his crew get the most from both their locations and their young talent.  The settings are shot by Chris Squires to appear at once wholly natural and in some sort of twilight zone where the normal rules don't apply.  Skloss handles the more difficult role of Odile with aplomb, able conveying the desires and resentments of a teenage girl.  The find here is newcomer Roheim, who suggests depths of knowledge and power in Yvette with little more than an arched eyebrow or twisted smile.
 
 

WOMEN'S CINEMA FEST OFFERS MIXED BAG (excerpt)

The Boston Sunday Herald April 24, 1994
by Paul Sherman

"....  The Texas-made "Odile and Yvette at the Edge of the World" - seemingly inspired in both title and female-fantasy story by Jacques Rivette's French classic, "Celine and Julie Go Boating" - is definitely the pleasant surprise of the fest, unconventionally tapping into adolescent angst.  "Odile," producer (and former Harvard Film Archive assistant curator) Bridget Murnane will be one of the many filmmakers introducing the screenings...." 
 
 

FACES TO WATCH

The Boston Globe April 8, 1990
by Christine Temins

 In her nifty little film, "A Day in My Life," dance-video-film artist Murnane peels off a zillion layers of leotards.  The gesture is literal truth: Dancers do indeed spend n inordinate amount of time putting on and taking off their gear.  It's also a metaphor for the repetitive nature of the dance profession, which is ruled by rituals such as the daily warmup.  Murnane, 36, is just coming into her own as a significant artist in a relatively recent hybrid form: dance on camera.  It's a growing field, through, and while only a few hundred people might turn-out to see a museum or theater showing of Murnane's work, the top echelon of dance filmmakers, eventually finds its way to public television.  Murnane didn't start dance until the advanced age of 21, too late for a major performing career, so she looked at other angles - camera angles, it turned out.  First, though, she did a seven year stint as a dance therapist, after earning a master's in expressive therapies at Lesley College.  As a therapist, she studied the movement of nursery-school kids and schizophrenics, which influenced her wide-ranging definition of what dance can be.  What it's not for her is a vocabulary set by someone else.  She also studied intensively with Susan Rose, the former Boston choreographer from whom Murnane got a sense of making dances as a form of problem-solving.  A scholarship brought her to UCLA's graduate school, where she worked in dance and film.  The camera obliviates the sense of weight in live dance, she found: In her film "For Dancers," Murnane put the weight back in by using the thudding sound of dancer Iris Pell's body against the floor.  Her "Talking Feet" focuses on that most abused part of a dancer's body; the film is both funny and poignant.  A piece she's working on right now, "Blasphemy," is big and dark, using imagery from art video that deals with the Stations of the Cross, the Holocaust, racism and other Big Issues, as a backdrop for live dance. Murnane has won piles of prizes for her work, which has been widely shown in America and Europe.  Look for an ambiguous mixed-media program she's planning for the fall, with details such as place and date to be announced. 
 
 
 

DANCE NOTES (excerpt)

The Boston Globe December 6, 1989
by Christine Temins

...And finally, there's a particularly appealing dance film program this weekend.  "Dance Media" by Bridget Murnane and Pooh Kaye....  Murnane's work is less familiar.  Although she grew up here, and danced with several Boston choreographers, she's been in Los Angeles for the last seven years, earning degrees in dance and film from UCLA.  To Murnane, the shift from dance to dance/film seemed natural.  In film, "You're still dealing with space and time.  What you lose is the sense of weight.  But you can use sound to put the weight back in."  In "For dancers," for instance, Murnane uses the sound of dancer Iris Pell's body against the floor.  "I pumped the sound up, so it was really obtrusive." 
 Among the works Murnane presents this Friday are "Tournants," a sort of history of dance through paper cutouts that are reminiscent of both Monty Python and Edward Gorey; "A Day In My Life," in which Murnane peels off a zillion layers of leotards; "Talking Feet," which shows only those often overlooked body parts, with commentary from their owners; and "For dancers," which at 18 minutes, is Murnane's longest piece to date.  "For Dancers" is also a fine tribute to four dancers who were Murnane's teachers; Fred Strickler, Iris Pell, Louise Burns and Susan Rose, the choreographer who, for financial reasons, recently left Boston for California.  Murnane's film shows Rose in her brilliant solo, "I could Sit Here All day."  The film is more than just a consolation prize for not having Rose anymore: Through sympathetic camera work, Murnane has added to the piece's power. 
 
 

SCHOOL GAZE (excerpt)

Los Angeles Weekly June 9-15, 1989
by Elvis Mitchell

"....Bridget A. Murnane's For Dancers  turns the lights on flesh-and-blood performances and moves from heightened interiors that almost overpower a tap number to a lazy, New Age-ish jaunt that moves from exterior to exterior and relies solely on ambient noise to set mood.  Her grasp of light and space is phenomenal.  Not only does Murnane know where to place a camera and how to move it around the dancers for drama, romance and respite, she can also create effects that don't feel studied or overemphatic."
 
 

TV REVIEWS 3 ARTISTS TRANSFERRING MOVEMENT ONTO SCREEN (excerpt)

Los Angeles Times June 9, 1989
by Lewis Segal 

"Three artist who explore film or video dance show their recent work on a stimulating episode of the "New Television" series tonight at 11:30 on KCET Channel 28.  Jeff McMahon and Charles Moulton each create movement collages that remain wholly subservient to photography and editing techniques.  Bridget Murnane faces a thornier task; transferring to the screen solos by Susan Rose and Louise Burns that possess a genuine choreographic shape.  In Murnane's "To Dancers," the camera selectively captures the essentials of Rose's dramatic, seated solo through bold close-ups made more striking by an intense red-and-black color scheme.  Cries and drumming by Megan Roberts intensify the imagery.  The Burns segment starts in the studio and then follows the dancer into out-door environments that expand the spatial thrust of the choreography beyond theatrical limits.  "To Dancers" actually represents the second half of Murnane's "For Dancers" (two and "To" make "For").  The deleted sections are, if anything, more unusual, since they attempt to reconceive classic techniques of shooting dance (long takes, full-body compositions) developed in Hollywood musicals...."
 
 

SOCIAL THEMES DOMINATE FILM SCHOOL'S 'WOMEN'S WORKS' (excerpt)

Los Angeles Times April 10, 1989 
by Chris Willman

".... Certainly the most technically accomplished of the lot - and probably the best - is "For Dancers," an omnibus of four disparate dance sequences directed with welcome variety and tremendous grace by Bridget A. Murnane.  First, Fred Strickler does a delightfully charged tap in an empty restaurant to the incongruous strains of Benjamin Britten; next up are two ballet-style pieces with Iris Pell on a wooden floor and Louise Burns in a number of outdoor L.A. locations, both using only ambient sound, and finally, a seated Susan Rose turns in a spasmodic avant-garde dance to a tribal rhythm."
 
 

WOMEN'S WORK (excerpt)

LA Weekly April 7-13, 1989

"....  Bridget Murnane's For Dancers presents four very different solo dance performances, demonstrating how film can dramatize movement and gesture and, conversely, how dance can use filmic time and space...."
 
 

UCLA STUDENT FILM PROGRAM WILL SCREEN (excerpt)

Los Angeles Times June 13, 1987
by Kevin Thomas

"Outstanding among the various animated films are.... Bridget Murnane's "Tournants," a whimisical tour de force involving the use of decoupage to survey of the history of concert dance in a joyous six minutes."
 
 

DANCE VIDEO BEYOND EXPECTATION (excerpt)

Dance Magazine March 1988
by Deirdre Towers
 

"The mere mention of dance on video can still raise many an eyebrow, particularly among purists and traditionalists.  A three-dimensional art form squeezed into a box?  Without the illusion and larger-than-life possibilities of film?  Why the insistence that dance video has developed far beyond expectaions?  These skeptics who refuse to recognize the merits of dance video obviously never saw....the animation in Tournants by Bridget Murnane, (compared to Monty Python's Terry Gilliam) would make them warm to the subject."