The Plot:
Though rather straightforward in their subject matter, Brian Eno's 14 Video Paintings is like the visual equivalent of the musician's masterful ambient albums. Each segment is scored by the artist's ambitious, atmospheric instrumentals, open and spacious works reminiscent of silent snowy days and windless open horizons. The first, entitled Mistaken Memories of Medieval Manhattan is a 45 minute look at New York from unique - and occasionally oblique - angles and images. Thursday Afternoon is a 90 minute collection of seven seductive portraits all centering on artist/model Christine Alicino. Partially clothed, occasionally nude, this lithe young lady is seen in association with waters, either submerged in it or freely floating on top. After these divergent shorts were filmed and captured, Eno would take the material to his studio for the standard "treatment" - tweaks and affectations that attempted to render the video image into acrylics, the cold celluloid into oils. Dreamlike and very ethereal, these sensational films match their master's suggestive sonic oeuvre perfectly.

The DVD:
Good ambient music is a rarity in today's overly complicated world. Too many artists either want to try and recreate nature, pushing the boundaries of the genre and the format into phony forays of symphonic seashores and fake forests, or they think that silence is more than golden, and explore emptiness more than composition. Brian Eno has always been different. For him, the natural state of being is a canvas - be it a film, an airport, or a patch of land. Onto that image he fills in the gaps, using notes and tones as his template, carefully constructing pieces that compliment - and on occasion, complete - the environment he is exploring.

His Ambient albums, as well as his work with minimalist pianist Harold Budd and various "Music for..." recordings prove that, aside from the art rock leanings of Roxy Music, or the perverted pop of his own creative canon, Eno is really at home in the vast void of auditory space. It is a realm he knows really well, and entering it with him is a sensationally soothing and enigmatic experience. Some consider his mood music to be delicate decibels to doze off to, but there is a hidden layer to this feather-light resonance. Eno's ambient is deeper and less direct than those who think that mood equals mannered...or nothing much at all.

So it's no surprise then that this amazing man's rare forays into film and video are equally enthralling. Previously only visible during gallery showings and private exhibitions (there have been laser and VHS releases, long OOP) Eno's experiments in the visual medium are like paintings pumped with subtle, shifting life. There is nothing outrageous here, or so visually overwhelming that it detracts from the experience. Indeed, what the musician is striving for is the optical version of his aural ambiguousness. Some will see these epic expressionist experiences and wonder where the so-called magic is. Others will find them a pleasant, if passing, diversion. But if you catch Eno's engaging wavelength and let yourself get lost in the sumptuous sights he is offering, the combination of music and muse will stir and move you.

New York is nearly unrecognizable through most of Mistaken Memories of Medieval Manhattan. Eno attempts the impossible here, to find a kind of impressionistic, inconspicuous way to capture one of the most identifiable and individualistic cities in the world. He does it by concentrating on the skyline, but not the obvious landmarks and locations. Instead, we see indistinct edifices of subtle shades of gray, each one picking up the rays of the sun and sucking the last of the life giving energy out of them. Buildings become pixels in a giant map of meaningless shapes, and the sky seems to enclose the metropolis in a vague veil of cloud-covered menace. Viewed through Eno's innovative eye, the Big Apple looks like a series of reliefs lifted off the graves at the cemetery for dying urban landscape, the sun occasionally dappling the diorama.

Thursday Afternoon is even more alluring. Relying on very minor movements, and occasionally looping the action in motion so slow that its almost imperceptible to the eye, Eno turns Christine Alicino into a glass goddess. Again treating his images to reflect more aesthetic than authentic parameters, his subject is bathed in a kind of white hot light that renders details dim and creates a kind of crystalline cover for his model. As she sits, or floats, her body bound by a towel or free under the gentle lapping of the water, colors phase in and out, and her body transforms from human to still life and back again. Eno's framing is deceptively simple. He minimally places Christine in an interesting place in the composition and lets shadows and light do the rest. There are a few sequences where postproduction is used to erase the model (all we see is an eerie silhouette) or create multiple passes of a particular pose.

The result is a combination museum piece and meditation device, something one could easily play in the background during a dinner party or dive into as part of an extended mental health regimen. Still, such a description undermines Eno's efforts. Any attempt to render film and video something other than a flat 2-D recreation of life is a very loaded proposition indeed. We've all seen computer generated junk that is supposed to pass for digital art, especially in the pre-desktop era. Even worse, there are filmmakers who find that the only way they can achieve their vision is by over-emphasizing image manipulation in spite of subject. Eno could be considered guilty of all these things, but the results are so stunning that it doesn't really matter. The DVD presentation of 14 Video Paintings is proof that talent trumps all, and when the aptitude in question is coming from the audacious Brian Eno, there is no doubt of its power and skill.

The Video:
Rykodisc does a very interesting thing. The two programs here are each offered in a vertical or horizontal viewing format. In horizontal mode, the image fills the entire 1.33:1 screen. When you switch over to vertical, the picture takes up the middle third of the frame, with tell tale black bars on either side. This is not an anamorphic presentation, but it's hard to see how it could be. Like a painter, Eno composed these visuals very precisely. They were not created for TV screens but for studio monitors of various sizes and shapes. So the lack of 16x9 parameters is excusable, since the project is being seen outside its intended domain to begin with. That being said, the transfer is terrific - colorful, clear and filled with aesthetic wonders. Rykodisc is to be commended for the effort put into this release.

(PS: Here's a little trick for you. If you want to know how Eno achieved some of his mesmerizing visual magic, just crank up the fast-forward on your DVD player. You will learn some VERY interesting things about the way in which these paintings were achieved.)

The Audio:
Though it fails to deliver a truly immersive experience, the Dolby Digital Stereo mix here is just perfect. Ambient lives in a kind of suspended world where even the most diminished of notes must still be readily recognizable. After all, the genre is more about emulating the harmony in silence than trying to capture or configure a certain tone. A faulty remaster can mess this all up, by Rykodisc again delivers a technically proficient package. For anyone who needs an audio relaxant at the end of the day, you could do a lot worse than picking up this impressive DVD presentation.

The Extras:
As part of the digipak, there is an attached booklet featuring interviews and quotes from Eno. All center on his art, and most address the 14 Video Paintings presented here. Aside from this addition, and the option to check your set-up with some simple color bars, there are no other bonus features.

Final Thoughts:
There will be some who read this review and feel that this DVD is nothing more than a glorified screensaver, or some kind of new age nonsense that will only take up space on your home theater shelves. But Brian Eno is more than just some filmic fiddler. He has spent decades perfecting his style of altered art, trying to pare sound and image down to their very essence. If you agree to meet him halfway and let his attention to visual and sonic detail address you directly, there is no denying its emotional and psychological impact. For even the most casual of fans, Rykodisc's DVD presentation of 14 Video Paintings is Highly Recommended. It is a beautiful, baroque experience.

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