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PREVIEW

Light Shining Through
Dark Days, a film about the homeless people who live in the tunnels underneath the trains of New York City, documents a subculture unto itself.

BY DAVID WALKER
dwalker@wweek.com

 

Dark Days
Cinema 21
616 NW 21st Ave., 223-4515

 

7 and 8:40 pm Friday-Wednesday, 9 pm Thursday, Dec. 15-21. Additional shows Saturday and Sunday 1:30, 3:15 and 5 pm.

 

Filmmaker Marc Singer, a former model, spent time living in the tunnels under New York's Penn Station.

 

The Dark Days crew was made up of the homeless people Singer filmed, some of whom are partial owners of
the film.

 


If you spend enough time in New York City, you will eventually see it all. By "all," I mean the human experience in all of its God-must-have-planned-it-this-way beauty and ugliness. The cramped room that I called home was located in a building at West 34th Street and 9th Avenue. Two blocks away was Penn Station, the place where all of Amtrak's trains rolled in and out of the city--and ground zero for all the sick, maggot-gagging depravity this world has to offer.

Frequently I stood at the 34th Street subway stop at Penn Station, waiting for the A train to take me either downtown or up to Harlem. On that platform, I saw it all. Crack deals and sex sales. Muggings. Knifings. Rats the size of dogs. Human beings squatting on the platform taking a shit while people standing around pretended not to notice.
And then there were the
mole people.

That's what my friend Carlo called the homeless people who lived in the tunnels under Penn Station--mole people.

"Don't let those freaks catch you on the platform alone after dark," he warned me. "Them mole people will drag you into the tunnels and eat your ass just like those zombies in C.H.U.D." Of course I believed him. After all, Carlo was from New Jersey and knew these sorts of things.

As it turns out, Carlo was slightly misinformed about the mole people. Dark Days, a new documentary by first-time filmmaker Marc Singer, offers a bold and insightful look into the world of the homeless people who live underground. They are not the cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers of C.H.U.D. or the Crazies that devoured Season Hubley in Escape from New York. Yes, many are crack addicts, some are hustlers, and all are wrestling with the demons that led them underground. But most important, they are all human beings.

"You'd be surprised what the human body and the human mind can adjust to," says Greg, one of the tunnel residents profiled in Dark Days. With no previous film experience, Singer set out to tell the stories of the people who live in the tunnels under New York. Why? Because he was one of them. What started out as curiosity became obsession for Singer after he first ventured into the tunnels to learn more about the people who lived there. As time passed, he became friends with many of the mole people. Singer was inspired to make his film by Ralph, one of the tunnel dwellers, who once remarked offhand that their stories would make a good movie.

What followed was a six-year filmmaking experience that found Singer selling all his worldly possessions and eventually moving into the tunnels. His close relationship with the people who became his subjects gave Singer an access few filmmakers could ever hope for. The result is a collection of frank and sometimes sad tales of people who live in a world that seems subhuman. Under Singer's watchful eye, though, their humanity is ever-present.

Dark Days introduces the audience to a handful of the underground residents, who live in makeshift homes that have enough electricity--stolen from the city--to power refrigerators and televisions. There's Ralph, a recovering crack addict who prides himself on the house he has built--a house where no crack smoking is allowed. Dee, Ralph's friend, is an unrepentant crack smoker who laments the loss of her children, killed in a fire while she was in jail. And then there's Henry, who's lived in the tunnels for the better part of three decades.

What's most remarkable about Dark Days is not the frankness or candor the subject matter is dealt with, but the surprising optimism that manages to shine through. The film is not a pity party for people who are less fortunate. It is a film about people who have learned to adapt and survive despite the obstacles they may face. Henry sums up the conditions he and his neighbors live under--and rise above--when he tells a fellow mole person that he may be homeless,
but he isn't helpless.

 

 

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