General Orders No. 9

The expression “experimental cinema” perfectly describes the idea behind outside-the-box filmmaking—some work magnificently, although the majority tend to fizzle and flop. Robert Persons' General Orders No. 9 unfortunately falls squarely into the latter category. Persons focuses on the state of Georgia, presenting a cinematic tone poem on the uneasy balance of bucolic natural beauty and dreary urban modernity, backed by hippy-dippy narration droned out by William Davidson. A typical passage goes like this: “There was a war here, a hundred years before this generation was born. A war happened here. We're lost without a map, but well misplaced. Bring us doubt upon doubt, bless us, and break us with mystery upon mystery. The Lord loves a broken spirit. Pray that we are well broken.” Yeah, whatever. Adding to the narcotizing effect is the film's cinematography: a series of artsy images edited in a manner that suggests a screensaver on steroids. The film is conspicuously lacking in actual humans (aside from a few archival photographs), although whether Persons desires a depopulated Georgia or simply prefers filming inanimate objects is not clear. Reportedly 11 years in the making, this numbing film is not recommended. Aud: C, P. (P. Hall)