More than 300 people showed up early in January for a dance lesson in the Trinity Church chapel in lower Manhattan. Reverend Emily Bloemker welcomed the twenty and thirty-something visitors, some in loose dance attire, others high-heeled and in tight jeans. Most of them probably hadn’t set foot in a church in years. These unlikely visitors were here to watch Girl Walk/All Day, a dance film directed by Jacob Krupnick. Bloemker saw the film, loved it and invited the cast and crew to screen the film in the church’s chapel. As music blasted across the church pews, all the way in the back, a second reverend, in jeans and clerical collar, tried to keep up with teacher John Doyle’s instructions. When he noticed an onlooker readying her camera to take a picture, he stopped, seemingly self-conscious, or afraid perhaps the picture would make its way to Facebook.
Girl Walk/All Day takes three dancers and a slew of guest visitors from Staten Island to Yankee Stadium via Central Park and other quintessential New York locations. There is nothing overtly religious about the film, but Bloemker like many others felt touched by it. An early trailer for the film released last January quickly became an online hit, accumulating 60,000 views on Vimeo after being picked up by the Gothamist and the Huffington Post. Funds to the realize the movie were subsequently raised through Kickstarter. Backed by the word of mouth and excitement around the trailer, the project grossed $12,000 in just six days. The film premiered in the Brooklyn Masonic Temple last December and Krupnick is now doing a cross-country tour traveling to Seattle, Portland, Oregon, L.A. and other places, where enthusiastic viewers like Bloemker have invited him for screenings.
The film has received stellar reviews withs several critics praising it for its urban joie de vivre. CBS and the Daily News, for instance, praised the film as a love letter to the city. But Girl Walk/ All Day does more than that; it also holds up a mirror that shows New Yorkers in an unflattering light. Ninety percent of the faceless New Yorkers in the movie are too engrossed in their mobile communication devices, too rushed to reach their destinations to even notice main dancer Anne Marsen cartwheeling, jumping and pirouetting in front of them. Some shoot her an annoyed look as she literally gets in their way, others raise their eyebrows and shrug their shoulders in a“only in New York”gesture. But the majority could care less.
Krupnick shot the movie over the summer in 15 days. One day, one of their very first scenes was to film dancer Dai Omiya tapping on top of a phone booth in Bowling Green Park, just off an MTA exit in the heat of morning rush. It would serve as a test: just what would Krupnick be able to get away with and how long before people would respond? This was it: Omiya, tapping away, making a hell of a noise, the boombox blasting, he would cause a scene, pulling the crowd of commuters out of their lost morning gaze. But the only person heeding the crew any attention at all was the free newspaper distributor at the subway exit, who gave them a slightly bewildered look. That was the height of the stir they caused that day. That and the police officer who walked toward them, asked them what kind of shit they thought they were doing and instructed them to go do that not on federal property.
That’s where the lightbulb went off. “Waw, the story as I’ve written it in the script has just become completely divorced from reality,” Krupnick remembers thinking, as we walk around the Greenpoint neighborhood where he lives in Brooklyn.“That was the first moment of realizing we’d have to recalibrate a lot of ideas that involved crowd participation,”he says. Krupnick was surprised by the overwhelming lack of reaction, but also accepting of it. “ I think we all have a sense of how lost in their own world people in New York are walking around. Maybe it’s headphone culture, maybe it’s fatigue from seeing so many oddities and seeing so many things tug at your attention span,” he says.
The connection he had hoped for between his dancers and random New Yorkers in the film eventually happened behind the scenes, in all the different legs of realizing the project and the post-production process. With the people who volunteered to dance, to bring Girl Walk/ All Day to another part of the country, and with the 600 people who contributed money to fund the film and all felt like they and no-one else made this film happen, Krupnick says.
It is hard to keep from smiling watching Marsen and the other dancers on their parkour across the city.
So maybe it is a love letter to New York. Maybe that’s the magic of this city, that a girl can do whatever the hell she wants with no-one stopping her. Only in this city could Marsen be dancing in the streets like she just doesn’t care, and only here other people wouldn’t either.