I find it difficult to write about Kentucker Audley's films,
not because I have nothing to say,
but because I don't have words for it.
These slender sixty-minute features
feel strangely timeless,
languid and elliptical in the same breath,
making no points, but simply observing,
These three films are distinct:
Team Picture, a comedy,
Open Five, thick with Memphis,
Holy Land, as prickly as its "hero",
experimental and profane and smoking too much
and yet and yes, holy.
But all three also blend together.
But all three also are Audley's.
They remind me of the only poet worth a damn,
they remind me of William Carlos Williams
and his wheelbarrow of rain water
and his so sweet and so cold plums.
Concrete, brief, bold, naive, fresh, true:
image and sound, voice and body,
time and moment,
yet also not without author:
the films are very much his,
the films are very much him.
For a filmmaker like myself
who analyzes and argues,
(and overanalyzes and overargues)
it's a magic trick I can't untangle
one I can't break down into wires and handkerchiefs
one I regard with burning envy.