“The streets were dark with something more than night.”-Raymond Chandler

Daniel Eisenberg's latest film is a sumptuous, intricate urban symphony. But while traditionally city symphony films have traced the arc of a day, Something More Than Night haunts the hours after the sun goes down. Made up almost entirely of long shots, the film reveals the city we miss while we sleep. As office workers shut off their computers, pack their briefcases, and head for home, another workforce appears. Illuminated by fluorescent lamps, framed by windows and doors against the dark, they present a late-night dance of gestures, lights, and garish colors as they clean and repair the city for another day. Largely unwitnessed, factories and industry function around the clock; gyms and cafes cater to the after-hours crowd; ships, buses, cars, and trucks traverse the city. And while the mood may recall film noir, the reality is unthreatening. The late night is hauntingly empty, alternately very quiet and incredibly noisy-punctuated by a sense of boredom and expectation.