Last Chant for a Slow Dance

A room, a piano, a man. The camera dollies in. Expansive construction of a sonic space: the fugue from J. S. Bach's E Minor Toccata flows, performed by Jimmy Angelelli (Harvey Keitel), ostentatiously expressive at the piano in the manner of Glenn Gould. This is a picture of Jimmy's interior world. But there is also an exterior world, which exists only insofar as it is framed by a window and made neatly available to the man's gaze. Hence the second phase of this opening scene: having finished the piece, Jimmy rests, rises, looks out the window; the camera lifts with him. As if willed by his gaze or seduced by his music, a woman – Carol (Tisa Farrow) – stands outside. Ashot/reverse-shot volley ensues, with Jimmy's second POV shot slowly zooming in on her as she turns away. A jump cut hurls us headlong into Jimmy's breathless pursuit of the object of his desire. He has been drawn out into the larger world. A moment's confusion shows Jimmy looking this way and that. At last spying Carol, Jimmy's sound output renews itself – he switches on a large portable tape recorder blaring out “Summertime, Summertime” by The Jamies – and expands to fill both the exterior environment and the film's soundtrack. A dolly shot stands in for his forward moving POV, bearing down on Carol.

In its opening moments FINGERS (1978), the debut feature written and directed by James Toback, lays its cards on the table in a strange and disquieting manner. It is a perfectly classical premise, for cinema and cinema theory alike: a steely artist-hero in control of space, action, sound and the look.