A stationary camera is set on a rooftop. The camera has been loaded with grainy, black and white sixteen mm film and begins recording. A dancer stands between the camera and a city skyline. Bunker-like warehouses, a cellphone or radio tower, a telephone pole, a river, and skyscrapers loom in the distance beyond the expansive, concrete rooftop-cum-dance floor.
These titles suggest a terrain (and later a terroir) that has much more aqueous awesomeness underneath the prickly-peared surface. Further expeditions were to come—this is merely a gringo’s guide to what lay ahead. (“THE Unchained Melody,” furthermore, is genius.)