Its ambiguity is one of the abiding mysteries of Subrin's project, and it makes her video much denser than [Jill] Godmilow's film [What Farocki Taught] as a historical inquiry, even though Subrin is about 20 years younger than Godmilow and didn't experience the 60s as an adult. It's a mystery that--not as an act of will but inadvertently--forces the 90s to the surface much more profoundly than Godmilow's more controlled experiment possibly could.
Anchoring the work is the lead performance by Kim Soss, whose Firestone is a real motormouth, flummoxed around her professors, but more often ready to talk about whatever’s on her mind: the nature of documentary truth, her early experiences with religious doubt, the dangers of living in the moment... In light of some of her remarks, the film might be unbearably tragic without the dramatic irony brought on by Firestone’s later success as a writer.
It’s exactly the sort of work that sounds easily pigeonholed as conceptual or experimental, but Subrin’s concept is ingenious and her experiment results in a major advance in her field. Her ideas are beautiful, and the movie is a thing of wonder.