Beyond Black Rock 3 out of 5 stars Director: Damon Brown
Imagine a concentrated version of Austin's infamous eccentricity transplanted in a hotter, more barren terrain.
What you probably see resembles a recent phenomenon taking place deep in the Nevada dessert known simply as "Burning Man." To mostly uninformed individuals, this mythical festival is synonymous with drug use and pagan-like sexual acts; however, Austinite director Damon Brown debunks these misconceptions in his new documentary, "Beyond Black Rock."
For 359 days out of the year, Black Rock, Nev., is 400 square miles of nothing, a dry lake bed so flat and vast, seeing the curvature of the earth is rumored to be possible. However, for a seven-day period in late August, 35,000 people appear, as if from the dust, to create a city free of commercial necessity or social constraints, a community dedicated to radical self-expression through the pushing of artistic boundaries.
All "burners" have unique gimmicks to accomplish this; some make elaborate statues or monuments, while others choose to become their art, such as the "naked pink man" who makes a brief appearance. Mutated cars are another popular route for attention seekers; pirate ships, airplanes and giant sperm whales glide through the movie's backdrop, adding a surreal touch to the already bizarre ambience.
On the final Saturday, the name of the festival becomes relevant as a 75-foot wooden man is set ablaze in an exciting ceremony amid fire dancers and captivated onlookers. As thousands of people race toward the flames like flies, it is easy to see how the ritual may be interpreted by some as neo-pagan worship; however, it is just as easy to attach the anti-conformist ideals of "the man" to the personified inferno. Whether you believe the celebration is a sign of the impending apocalypse or innocent hippie fun, you won't leave the beach. Burners depart with a "love it or hate it" attitude, often changing from burn to burn. This aspect is the appeal of the event - the lack of routine things to do or see makes each year distinctive and exciting.
The film is a countdown to the burn, starting a year before the event, and shown from a behind-the-scenes point of view. Larry Harvey, founder of the phenomenon, is a major presence in the movie. In 1986, he set a small wooden man aflame on a San Francisco beach and has played a major role in every burn since.
The event with such humble beginnings now has a budget of more than $7 million and hundreds of people on its payroll. Employees' appearances and behavior are not typical; pink hair, tutus illustrate childhood fantasies where work and play intermingle. The seven-day city boasts a daily newspaper, recycle camp, emergency services and city rangers (who enforce fun more often than regulations).
In a departure from most festivals, the only thing sold to ticket holders is ice. Six-dollar bottled waters, which were the downfall of a similar event, are absent. Self-reliance and sharing resources are taught throughout the community, making it very close-knit.
Then, the Sunday after the man is burned, in an eerie conclusion following the infamous "nothing left behind" policy, the entire city is packed up and everyone vanishes, like a mirage, no trace of the celebration remaining.
If you want to participate in the Burning Man experience and consider Nevada too far of a pilgrimage to venture, there is great news. Over 200 cities around the world have their own take on the celebration, and Austin happens to possess one of the best variations. Visit www.burnaustin.org for information on the eccentric Memorial Day burn.
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