The strange hypnotism of the free-throwing, bolstered on the soundtrack by the bulldozing stream of chatter from the Slammin' Sammy announcer. The running-back freezing in positions as if he's being captured by still photographs, but of course it's motion pictures. In still photos (see: the Letterboxd poster), he'd be a representation, a means to go somewhere else. In Everson's and Claudrena Harold's moving pictures (which, again, never give you what you want; they're so open and dangling), something more fabulous (and fabulist) emerges. The UVA series of collaborations between Everson and Harold are all on Criterion Channel; highly recommended. Snapshots of university life that flirt with varying degrees of fiction, meditations on action within highly closed-off symbolic spaces — but the Real (U.S. racism: the Confederate flag waved with every touchdown by a Black player) always manages to invade what may look like mere reportage, mere Documentary. Major-minor in the way that Chabrol's major work is played in minor registers.
