If you've followed me anywhere on the internet, you probably know that I make no bones about the fact that I spent a decade as a graveyard shift janitor. I was very proud of my job and I talk a bit about it in terms of just being a working class guy trying to survive in a gig-based economy like freelancing while doing a full time job that takes every bit of energy out of you. I’ve spoken so much about this that I made it masthead of this Substack.
Additionally, if you’ve followed me anywhere, you know I write predominantly about action films and stunts. What you might not know is that on the other end of the spectrum of people kicking the shit out of one another, my favorite pocket of cinema is Slow Cinema. Filmmakers like Tsai Ming-liang or Apitchatpong Weerasethakul or Hong Sang-soo create these image and soundscapes that allow me to sink myself into, stripping cinema down to its barest elements. I’m such an image-based viewer and their work is maybe what I respond to most. The quiet interludes of life or non-verbal intimacy that we don’t always get to see. It’s not often that I get to write or talk about the other areas of film I love and I’ve spent my move to NYC trying to unbox the action-box I’ve put myself in. Mark Asch, critic and programmer at Spectacle NYC, reached out earlier this month because he knew I’d been looking to expand my horizons a bit with a film that seemed tailor-made for me.
Alfred Giancarli’s Weeknights follows a few guys and their nightly routines as graveyard shift laborers. A security guard, bodega worker and ride-share driver, strangers all but unified in their existence in the loneliest time of day. Mark keyed me into this because he had a feeling that the slow rhythms of the late night existence Giancarli captures here. Boy, was he right.
I've never seen a film find the isolating liminal space you exist within having to start your day while everyone you know or love is winding down. Buildings become monolithic structures for you to lose yourself inside. Small talk with a corner store cashier is your lifeblood of connection. Beeps from distant cars echo around your head like a memory. Your body never really gets used to how fucked up your sleep cycle is and any chance to nod off for just a few minutes is true bliss. The nighttime air and darkness feels serene, especially compared to how daylight is so disorienting and stark. The once distant sounds of life immediately become sonic booms as the waking world intrudes upon your solitude. You limp to bed, never quite resting because you have to do it all over again.
Weeknights is such a special film. Nails everything that makes that way of life so romantic and haunted, and why I'm glad I'm not in it anymore. Giancarli is a filmmaker that I’m immediately going to follow anywhere. An instant name that, if you respond well to Tsai or Weerasethakul especially, you’ll want to keep an eye on. I also recommend seeking out Tsai’s Days and Bas Devos’s Ghost Tropic to put you in the mindset before this one becomes widely available.
I was so affected by this one that I had to speak to Alfred immediately. Below is our conversation about the film, the isolation of late-nights, Tsai and what’s next for the film as he finds more spaces to screen it. To that last point, keep an eye out on my Twitter and Instagram because I’ll actively be promoting this as he announces dates and showings. He’s a great conversationalist and this one’s a fun listen.
*NOTE: the connection between our Zoom call was a little dicey in spots and the conversation freezes here and there. It doesn’t disrupt his answers or make anything unclear, I just wanted prepare you for that.*