Mover

Filmmaker's note

Letting go is hard. As humans, we cling desperately to our material possessions, our living spaces, our loved ones. Even the smallest thing has a gravitational pull. Even the smallest moment weighs heavy. So when they are taken away, what are we left with? Ourselves? Are we enough? This film offers up an answer.

Moving is also hard, from a practical perspective. If you do it yourself, it’s nothing short of a physical battle. Wrestling with your objects is unavoidable, and if you’re not careful--your things, your feelings, your heart--can get broken along the way. We have a tendency to wrap ourselves emotionally in bubble wrap to avoid getting hurt, which would explain why the first reaction to grief is often denial. In the film, Sam vehemently tries to deny that change is coming. It’s only when everything is irreversibly gone that she accepts what has happened. Even then, she finds a tiny flower and clings to it for a moment. Flawed humans, we.

A film shoot is also much like an apartment move: fast, furious, physical, and over before you know it. We shot 'Mover’ over a single weekend in a small Brooklyn apartment on Hart Street, a fitting name in my opinion. It’s interesting that despite the extremely short shooting schedule, I experienced a type of mild grief and nostalgia towards that space, that time, and those people involved. When we wrapped, loaded out equipment, repainted the walls, closed boxes, closed doors, and said goodbye to each other, I felt a little like Sam: melancholic, but moving on, moving forward. And instead of a little flower I cling to, it’s a Vimeo link.

Please enjoy the film and remember: the word "alone” comes from "all one.” I think there’s something comforting about that.

- Jackson Jarvis