The Man Who Folded Himself Borjan stands waiting for your action. We are in a library. Borjan asks the librarian if they have this book or that book, looking for the key to the next chapter of the game. The levels of the library, the repetition of structure and action, and the notion of characters only animated by our presence viewing them, are all reflective of late 1990s PC adventure games. The possibility of multiple turns and choices is further expanded as Borjan finds a charred book that allows him to see into a prison-maze. With his vision guided by a greyhound familiar, he discovers men who can’t remember being free but who pace the leafy corridors nonetheless. The title of the film echoes the title of a 1940s sci-fi novel about a man who travels through time to bet on greyhounds. Led by the sound of a Serbian whistle, Borjan’s vision is drawn into this trap, but when he himself appears in the maze world he finds it artificial and capricious, transformed by his presence. As he explores it, the maze alters until, finally, it breaks down and releases him into a harsh natural landscape. Here, he discovers his part in the burning of the book that brought him here and the elliptical nature of this game and of the film itself. Johann Rashid
The Man Who Folded Himself is an obtuse, cryptic film, working solely to its own undisclosed inner logic. Its narrative is not symbolic, but more formed like a puzzle which both the protagonist and the viewer are engaged in solving. No solution or explanation is delivered in the film’s denouement, but in the detached manner employed by Nouveau Roman film’s like Alan Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet’s Last Year In Marienbad the story unfolds as a floating enigma with moebius threads of character and action. Philip Brophy
This work was part of the TYGER! TYGER! project curated by Phip Murray at West Space gallery.