A Trial. The Transcript.

A Trial. The Transcript. tells the story of how an evening presumably planned as a relaxed gathering of friends ended in rape. Fiona Rukschcio alternatingly aligns fragmentary testimony given by a young woman and the accused, as read by sober off-screen voices that reconstruct the events of that night step by step. The recorded accounts increasingly diverge, the formulations of the accused seem rehearsed – and no less significantly, his impassiveness simultaneously transmits the emotional detachment inherent to judicial procedure. The soundtrack finds visual correlation in collages composed of simple black and white sketches and fragmented photographs: The faces of the photographed bodies are excised, barring sight of facial expression and emotional legibility. The camera complements the narrative rhythm of the off-screen voices, zooming in on the collages and lingering at the center of the image. Details are pulled into the middle of the frame, breaking up into pixels and dissolving into abstract fields of color, before the narrative perspective switches, and the image zooms back out.

This documentary work delivers no intact images, the spoken word dominates: A physical assault is described in the context of a legal proceeding. The missing visibility of spiritual violence corresponds to the blind spot manifested on a visual level: Black frames mark the void between the different montage segments. Fiona Rukschcio meets the desire to sum up an act of violence in a paragraph with an oppressive blur. (Jana Koch)

Translation: Eve Heller