LFF Dispatch #2: NYC Duo Kevin Walker and Jack Auen Conjure Up the Past as a Living Thing in Their Directorial Debut Chronovisor

CHRONOVISOR
(Kevin Walker and Jack Auen, USA, 2026, 99 minutes)

Sailin' away on the crest of a wave / It's like magic / Oh, rollin' and ridin' and slippin' and slidin' / It's magic.--ELO, "Livin’ Thing" (1976) 

Béatrice Courte (Anne Laure Sellier, a French professor of behavioral science), a Columbia University researcher and professor of philosophy, sets out to solve the mystery of the Chronovisor, a machine that could reportedly record the past, in this text-intensive metaphysical mystery from Cosmic Salon, aka Maryland/NYC filmmaking duo Kevin Walker and Jack Auen.

At the New York Society Library (actually a library at Johns Hopkins), her home away from home, Béatrice pores over books and periodicals and listens to audio recordings and at home she watches videos. She's often the only one in the library late at night, illuminated by the green glow of a banker's lamp (Leo Zhang shot the film in warm, soft-edged 16mm and excerpts from Holst's The Planets provide the stratospheric sounds). 

Left: Kevin Walker and 

Jack Auen

In the course of her research, she finds that Father Pellegrino Ernetti, a Benedictine monk born in 1925, claims that he created the device with the aid of 12 physicists. If this was a documentary, we would assume he was a charlatan. It isn't, though the vast majority of the names, claims, and facts presented are real. 

But that doesn't mean Ernetti was on the up and up. Béatrice finds, for instance, an explanation for his most startling photograph: a closeup on a crucified Christ wearing an expression that recalls Maria Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc. According to Ernetti, the released photo was a facsimile, but that doesn't explain what happened to the original.

Further, Ernetti never explained how The Chronovisor works before he went missing, so the mystery isn't just about its inner workings, but about what happened to the device and to its inventor. Since then, conspiracy theories have proliferated, accompanied by Elvis-like sightings. Considering that the monk would be 101 in 2026, it seems unlikely that he he's still alive. 

Béatrice reaches out to Ernetti's relatives and associates in hopes that they can provide some insight. In the process, she unlocks a treasure trove of additional materials. 

Sellier, who resembles German actress Nina Hoss, isn't really an actress, and she doesn't really act. Instead, she listens, watches, and reads. As she does, Walker and Auen illuminate relevant text passages, sometimes translating them from the original French or Italian, languages Béatrice also speaks. They also gave the subtitles a slightly aged look, a nice touch exemplifying their holistic approach. 

In its early stages, the directors depict Béatrice having drinks with colleagues and speaking at a lectern before an academic audience, but she seems most comfortable, possibly even happiest, alone in the dark swimming in words. For better or for worse, I found that relatable. 

Then she travels to Italy and transitions from observer to participant.

Though Chronovisor is an experimental film, it's easy to figure out what's going on at any given time. In Italy, however, Walker and Auen create painterly images that prove hard to decipher. Rough, colored outlines appear on a black background. Sometimes they're splotchy and mottled. At other times, they look like red and blue 3D images. This section, which concludes the film, does and does not solve the mystery. In that sense, I was reminded of Ivan Zulueta's sole feature Arrebato, Olivier Assayas's Irma Vep, and Laura Citarella's Trenque Lauquen. In all three films, the protagonists lose themselves in the mysteries they're trying to solve.

For the most part, though, Walker and Auen's directorial debut, which follows several shorts, is its own beast. 

The biggest question, for me, wasn't whether the device did what Ernetti said it did, but whether it was a good idea in the first place. After all, he came to believe it was dangerous, leading the Vatican to get involved, which is never a good thing, but could have been worse if governments got ahold of it.

It also occured to me that since cameras didn't exist thousands of years ago, it was up to artists to tell us about their times, and maybe that's how it's meant to be, not least when artists have fewer practical reasons to do so now when they can just pick up a camera phone or, worse yet, turn to Claude or ChatGPT, and when it's harder than ever to make a living from art.

Chronovisor, however, is art. No doubt about it.

Stream Walker and Auen's 2021 short film, "Marblehead," here.

Chronovisor plays Seattle's Northwest Film Forum, through Tues, Oct 6. It premieres in London at LFF on Oct 9 at BFI Southbank and plays again on Oct 11 at ICA. Both screenings are sold out, but some tickets should be available at the door. Images from Grasshopper via InReview Online (film still), Filmmaker - Substack (Walker and Auen), Woodstock Film Festival (the face of Jesus, supposedly), and Reactor Mag (Anne Laure Sellier).