[Le Temps]
Published Nov 9, 2021 - Source
A virtual reality headset over the eyes, headphones, sometimes a controller in each hand… Does that ring a bell? Of course it does. It’s the entryway into Facebook/Meta’s “metaverse,” that total virtual universe recently outlined by its director, Mark Zuckerberg. But before diving—perhaps—into this unsettling digital world, the Geneva International Film Festival (GIFF) invites us today to enjoy the best that virtual reality has to offer. The festival, which runs until November 14, offers a unique panorama to discover the finest creations in the field.
And it's a lovely paradox: while the digital world accelerates our lives, here the viewer is asked to take the time to explore pixel-based works. More than 40 experiences are offered at the Maison communale of Plainpalais, as well as in other locations around Geneva. These experiences lead to very different kinds of immersion, sometimes lasting up to twenty minutes. In one space, the visitor simply sits down, headset over the eyes, and observes the universe around them. A bit further along, they interact with the piece using their voice and controllers. Elsewhere, holding their phone, they bring posters to life through augmented reality.
Therapy through gaming
Let’s begin exploring these virtual territories with Goliath – Playing with Reality. Eyes, ears, and hand equipped, the viewer discovers the true story of a man who, after years of isolation in a psychiatric institution, manages to reconnect and form friendships upon his release thanks to online gaming. The immersion is total, thanks to the quality of the graphics and the power of the narrative. For 25 minutes, we accompany this man’s descent into hell and his slow return to the surface through video games. At several points, we are even invited to play ourselves, using the controllers. No, video games are not just an outlet for violence-obsessed teenagers—they can also be a way to heal, even to form bonds. Goliath is, in our opinion, a major achievement.
Now let’s head upstairs to the VR Cinema. Here, the cafeteria has been replaced by a small screening room, where spectators are invited to sit in one of about fifteen chairs. Time for contemplation. Notably with Tearless, by Gina Kim. Thanks to this work, the visitor is transported, for twelve minutes, to South Korea. A large, abandoned building appears in the middle of the forest. Now overrun by vegetation, it is a former detention center, built in the 1970s, intended for sex workers suspected of having STDs.
Plongée dans l’horreur
Séquence après séquence, on change de pièce. Tout semble à l’abandon. Mais après quelques secondes, des objets apparaissent, pour rappeler l’horreur du lieu. Des couvertures à même le sol. Une brosse à dents. Un lit d’opération ensanglanté. Puis apparaît une jeune femme au regard vide, assise sur un escalier, qui écrase sa cigarette avant de monter. On devine, ensuite, son suicide. Une œuvre magistrale qui lève le voile sur un pan méconnu de l’histoire de la Corée.
Rendons-nous ensuite à quelques centaines de mètres de là, aux Salons, rue J.-F. Bartholoni. Ici, un casque audio suffit pour apprécier What Is Left of Reality, de Ferdinand Dervieux et Pierre Zandrowicz. Debout face à un écran géant, le spectateur est confronté à un problème d’une brûlante actualité: le réchauffement de la planète et la destruction massive de notre environnement. Le tout avec subtilité, grâce au jeu incessant de millions de points de couleur à l’écran, qui esquissent le péril total auquel fait face notre planète.
A plunge into horror
Scene by scene, we move from room to room. Everything seems deserted. But after a few seconds, objects appear to recall the horror of the place. Blankets on the floor. A toothbrush. A bloodstained operating table. Then, a young woman appears, her gaze vacant, sitting on a staircase, crushing her cigarette before climbing up. We later infer her suicide. A masterful work that unveils a little-known chapter of South Korea’s history.