The Brooklyn Rail

It’s a funny time to be a film-lover in NYC: We’re watching the Hollywood dream factory die from the opposite coast, while cinema culture is (somewhat) thriving over here. Across the city, attendance at independent and repertory theaters, especially among young moviegoers, is plentiful. Long-standing microcinemas like Spectacle and Light Industry are still going strong, and new ones like Low Cinema are opening. Places for robust cultural criticism like Screen Slate, Metrograph Journal, and Film Comment are growing and evolving in the face of journalistic decline.

Amidst all of this, some of the most exciting work and sense of cinematic camaraderie can be found tucked away in the back room of Freddy’s Bar in South Slope.

On the fourth Tuesday of every month, a community of filmmakers, artists, and open-minded viewers gather at DarkRoom for a mystery lineup of short films curated by Brian Ratigan. A longtime programmer and juror on the indie festival circuit, Ratigan’s well of contemporary independent film knowledge (as well as his rolodex) runs deep, so it was perhaps only a matter of time before he developed a screening series of his own. Ratigan hosted the first DarkRoom in the back of Freddy’s in March of 2023, initially envisioning that showcase of some of his favorite experimental shorts, complete with salon-style discussion, as a one-off event. The size and enthusiasm of the audience that night, however, decided otherwise. Three years later, DarkRoom has hosted over seventy shows across multiple boroughs and venues, from established movie theaters like Nitehawk Prospect Park to microcinema and gallery spaces, and even historic sites like the Andrew Freedman Home in the Bronx.

A DIY spirit informs everything about DarkRoom, from the micro-budget films it highlights to the accessibility of the event itself. From the beginning, Ratigan was adamant about not having a cover charge at Freddy’s, wanting to eliminate any gatekeeping or barrier to entry (DarkRoom only sells tickets when it travels to a venue that requires it). However, donations are strongly encouraged, and go directly to the filmmakers screening that evening, almost as if they’re a touring band at a basement punk show. “Everything is split evenly,” Ratigan says, “and it’s never as much as I would like to be giving filmmakers, but for a lot of the artists we’ve hosted, it’s the first time they’ve ever been paid to screen their work at all. As of now, we’ve paid out almost five hundred filmmakers.”

Despite DarkRoom’s expansion in terms of genre, venue, audience size, etc., it has managed to maintain the communal, artist-centric atmosphere that makes it so unique, most importantly through its emphasis on collaboration and conversation over networking. The vibe may be casual and non-pretentious, but the carefully-considered curation and moderation on Ratigan’s part, as well as artistic seriousness the audience brings, tends to weed out a more careerist crowd. “I’ve always wanted it just to be a room full of artists, not a networking event,” Ratigan says. “We call it a salon, which is a throwback to the Parisian format of getting together and actually talking about the work.” This is reflected in the discussion portions of the program, which Ratigan moderates himself, setting the tone for the type of questions asked. Since the room is full of filmmakers—some who may be screening that night, others merely part of the community of regulars that’s sprouted—there’s a lot of excited shop talk about production and technique. Aidan Cronin, a New York filmmaker who is also a co-founder and director of the Ithaca Experimental Film Festival, appreciates how DarkRoom “never feels performative or industry-driven. The conversations before and after the screenings have a special place in my heart. I have met filmmakers there who have shaped the way I think about and create my own work and who I’m lucky to now call close friends.”

Ratigan’s experience in festival programming heavily influenced his vision for DarkRoom’s format, most notably having Q&A sections sandwiched between each film instead of a large one at the end. According to Ratigan, this “gives people a mental break, but also I think it’s a better way for the audience to connect with each individual filmmaker.” As for the lineup itself, the audience never knows what they will be seeing until they arrive, which encourages an open-mindedness going into each screening. For Ratigan, there’s a practical motivation behind the mystery as well: “It helps the filmmakers preserve potential premiere status that many festivals require for submissions. Because we’re not announcing anything in advance, we can show things we technically probably shouldn’t be showing, like works-in-progress or clips from features. Often, it also helps people who are otherwise unable to test screen their work in front of an audience. We’ve done that more and more as the series has gone on.”

The mystery format also emphasizes the in-person experience; you never know who you might see––or who you might miss. One memorable screening featured veteran animators Robert Lyons and David Daniels, who came to screen the music video for Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time,” for which they contributed stop-motion claymation and incredibly intricate strata-cut animation. Between that and their collaboration on Pee Wee’s Playhouse, such artists are icons in a venue like DarkRoom, and the audience’s surprise at getting to nerd out with them in a bar on a random Tuesday makes evenings like these feel truly special. It’s unsurprising, then, that many people who frequently attend DarkRoom have become friends and collaborators.

Going in-person is also the only way to get a limited edition zine featuring the program’s lineup and contact information for the filmmakers, each illustrated and handmade by poster designer and fine artist Elizabeth Yoo, who also designed the series’ logo. Yoo’s recognizable hand-drawn style shaped DarkRoom’s overall aesthetic from the start, reflecting the DIY spirit of the project, while also demonstrating the amount of care put into each night. Yoo says:

A lot of the time I’m creating entirely new pieces specifically for the event. If a screening falls on the birthday of a favorite director or the anniversary of a film we love, I like to incorporate that into the art. I spend hours drawing, printing, cutting, and stapling the zines, then number each one by hand. Every screening feels special, and you leave with a pocket-sized memento. 

Despite the casual comfort guests feel in the space, they also feel the level of attention and work that Yoo and Ratigan put into each program. “The amount of hard work Non Films puts into these screenings may look easy or seem imperceptible,” writer/director and DarkRoom regular Jeremiah M. Carter told me, “but for those who attend it does not go unnoticed.”

There are currently no plans to slow down; this summer, DarkRoom is occurring as frequently as twice a month, and has now gone “on the road” for the first time for a screening in Baltimore. Ratigan also wants to ensure that the series makes it to all five boroughs. Still, it’s in the unofficial HQ of Freddy’s backroom where the punk parlor spirit of DarkRoom is most palpable, and will likely remain where the com\unity of regulars returns again and again. As Ratigan notes, “People have found collaborators here. People have even found love.” There’s just something about Freddy’s.

Ultimately, wherever DarkRoom goes, the mission remains the same for Ratigan: “We should be watching movies in theaters, we should be watching movies with friends, and we should be talking about those movies afterwards. Creating a space in which to do that is almost as important as the films themselves.”