A cross-hatched fantasy about nocturnal furniture love.

A continuous zoom traverses the space of a breakfast table, serving as a grand metaphor for indigestion.

You see nothing but a white, crystal white plate, and water dripping into the plate, and you hear the sound of the water dripping. The film is ten minutes long.

A recording of some music from Puccini's "La Bohème" plays over a speaker, inter-cut with shots of flowers and wood-fires.

A cutout of a woman's silhouette is displayed in many locations while a free jazz soundtrack is heard. The jazz musicians later pose for the camera in a studio.

"This neat, finely tuned, hypersensitive film examines the outside and inside of a banal prefab classroom, stares at an asymmetrical space so undistinguished that it's hard to believe the whole movie is confined to it, and has this neck-jerking camera gimmick that hits a wooden stop arm at each end of its swing. Basically it's a perpetual motion film that ingeniously builds a sculptural effect by insisting on time-motion to the point where the camera's swinging arcs and white wall field assume the hardness, the dimensions of a concrete beam. "In such a hard, drilling work, the wooden clap sounds are a terrific invention, and, as much as any single element, create the sculpture. Seeming to thrust the image outward off the screen, these clap effects are timed like a metronome, sometimes occurring with torrential frequency." - Manny Farber, Artforum, 1970

Snow invites us to contemplate and put into question his chosen medium, in an oscillation between what is represented, its process and material.

Consisting solely of single individual words of (mainly) White Letters on a (mainly) Black screen with no sound. It is a featurette on the relationship of words and cinema. There is no SOUND, so the only sound you "hear" are one's own as you silently "read" them to yourself. Despite the fact that it is just a series of words, the film itself develops a "personality" of sorts. Prodding, cajoling, baffling and ultimately, toying with the viewer. A one of a kind experience.

WAVELENGTH For Those Who Don't Have the Time Michael Snow's film WAVELENGTH has been acclaimed as a classic of Avant-Garde filmmaking since its appearance in 1967. In February 2003 Snow made WVLNT, a "re-mix" which created a new work consisting of simultaneities rather than the sequential progressions of the original work. WVLNT IS composed of 3 unaltered superimpositions of sound and picture. Originally 45 minutes. Now 15 !

"Until Rameau's Nephew... no one has exhibited a film that deals so thoroughly with the range of perceptual problems elicited by the sound cinema." (M. Keller, Chicago Film Centre) "...an achievement of the originality and brilliance of Wavelength. Snow embraces the problems on intimacy of language and thought with such variety, clarity and invention and high humour that again he seems to have made a film out of which an entire future movement could be mined." (P. Adams Sitney, Soho Weekly News) I started scripting this film in February 1972 and writing, shooting, mixing, editing and continued till September '74. Some ideas used in it date from 1966 when I recognized in myself the ambition to make an authentic Talking Picture i.e. true to its description, it moves for its content from the facts of the simultaneities of recorded speech and image; it is built from the true units of a 'talking picture' the syllable and the frame. All the possible image/sound relationships centering around people and speech generate the movie-audience relationships: a wide range of emotional possibilities, the experience of seeing/hearing this film.'Speech', 'Language', 'Culture' - their source, their nature...recorded, imaged, prove (?) that in this case a word is worth 1000 pictures. (Michael Snow) Scripted and Directed by Michael Snow. Shot primarily in Toronto and New York by himself, Keith Lock, Babette Mangolte, David York and others.

2019 film directed by Michael Snow

A surreal and comic exploration of an office space and its inhabitants and the decorations of a living room.

A 1971 experimental Canadian film directed by Michael Snow. Shot in the Canadian mountains over a period of 24 hours using a robotic arm.

Wavelength consists of almost no action, and what action does occur is largely elided. If the film could be said to have a conventional plot, this would presumably refer to the three “character” scenes. In the first scene two people enter a room, chat briefly, and listen to “Strawberry Fields Forever” on the radio. Later, a man (played by filmmaker Hollis Frampton) enters inexplicably and dies on the floor. And last, the female owner of the apartment is heard and seen on the phone, speaking, with strange calm, about the dead man in her apartment whom she has never seen before.