There’s a shot early on in Mark Lewis’ Invention that I can only describe as exhilarating, but I get the feeling it might not work on everyone in the same way it did for me. The sequence, a single take lasting over 10 minutes, starts as a black-and-white shot on top of a downtown Toronto building overlooking the cityscape. The camera slowly starts panning around in a circle, eventually aiming its sights towards the city’s downtown core (you can see the CN tower peeking out from behind a cloud). Eventually, the camera stops and locks in on a window in another building directly across from it. Suddenly the camera starts flying towards the window, goes through it (the moment the camera enters inside, the film switches to colour), flips upside down, then turns around and proceeds to zoom into the streets below to observe the cars and pedestrians.

I can’t deny that, on a basic level, there’s something I find exciting about watching what looks like a simple shot unexpectedly transform into an incredibly complex one. A pan turns into (I assume) a drone or crane shot, proceeds to do something seemingly impossible, and then redefines the familiar views of the city into something more abstract and mathematical (the window the camera peers through is split into three sections, and Lewis frames it to look like a three-dimensional plane). Lewis, along with cinematographers Martin Testar and Bobby Shore, employ this approach to three areas in different parts of the world: Toronto, São Paolo, and the Louvre in Paris. And aside from the opening and closing, Invention has no soundtrack whatsoever, letting the film play out almost entirely in complete silence (the film has been described as reminiscent of city symphony films of the silent era). The film rests everything on its visuals, and with so many downright dazzling scenes, it’s not hard to get past the silence.

That radical move might make it easy for some to dismiss Invention as more of an art installation (to be fair, part of Invention is made up of shorts Lewis made for the Louvre), but if anything, Invention might be one of the year’s most cinematic films. By stripping things down to the most vital element(s), and by putting all the emphasis on the camera and its movement, Lewis makes Invention a film that’s all about the act of observing and how powerful the camera can be in teaching viewers what and how to observe. This is apparent in the opening shot, where the camera slowly observes a sculpture, and through the way the camera glides and pans over almost every detail, frequently changing the interpretation and appreciation of the art piece. Even more fascinating is how Lewis extends this to the way he observes Toronto and São Paolo, capturing surreal images (primarily one of people walking along a closed down highway) or seemingly mundane parts of a city and, by using the camera’s placement and movement, generates a new, dynamic appreciation of the familiar. And by providing this distilled version of cinema, Invention turns into the sort of film that’s a distinct, powerful work that’s about the unique power of film.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Wild Girl Waltz to begin with; I was hesitant to say I liked it but at the same time I didn’t want to dismiss this indie comedy directed by Mark Lewis. Therefore I sat back and simply watched, intrigued as the comedic scenarios unraveled – and I have to say that even though the quality was not perfect, I could certainly say the effort was there.

We’re introduced firstly to Angie (Christina Shipp); she’s walking along the road side, minding her own business and enjoying the nice weather. Next minute she’s drenched in strawberry milkshake after a drive by window toss from two immature pranksters. This act alone might not have had you belly laughing, but Angie’s reaction gives you the comedy needed just two minutes into the opening scene. Whilst milkshake-soaked Angie flips out, we then meet Brian (Jared Stern) and Tara (Samantha Steinmetz) who are playfully arguing in their pine lodge kitchen. The chemistry between these characters is evident right from the start. Male lead Jared Stern acts with such strong charisma he is able to bring us back whenever the comedy dips into dead-pan territory.

Wild Girl Waltz does extremely well in keeping the comedy flowing, with a dynamic comedic duo and best friends Angie and Tara always giving us reason to laugh. The story is shaped around their decision to take ‘goofie pills’ and Brian (the boyfriend to Tara and the brother to Angie) has to deal with the consequences that ensue. Throughout, Brian gives off the impression that it’s a chore to look after the pair as their personalities, decision making and spontaneity are a little overwhelming, however, there are moments when the audience gets to see that he is enjoying the experience, even if the girls don’t.

The choice to use country music throughout Wild Girl Waltz was a brilliant idea and very fitting to the feel of the film. It works perfectly to capture the essence of the storyline and as most of the film is shot as the group are riding through the countryside, there are many picturesque moments that coincide with the style of music and carefree attitude of the afternoon.

As the day unfolds there are so many little comedic gems that simply just ‘happen’, mainly through the sharp dialogue written by director Mark Lewis. Occasionally the events can take you by surprise – a specific scene has Brian commit a controversial act – you’ll know the one I mean when you see it for yourselves; it was done remarkably well and due to great plot timing you find yourself on his side and almost rooting for him!

Overall, Wild Girl Waltz is a good indie comedy with great entertaining moments, although it is not without its flaws. The quality is a little off and shots were a little shaky and over exposed, but filming on a very sunny day – it’s to be expected. I enjoyed the 82 minutes Wild Girl Waltz delivered and it will be placed amongst my list of indie favourites.