[ The video is of a small and bright bathroom, swinging around at a blur to focus on the mirror, selfie-style. Charles Xavier, wearing a thick sweater, hands gloved save for bone-white fingertips peeking through the wool, only meets the focus of the lens once, mostly by accident. His breath hits the air as steam, as if the temperature has spiked low.
He sets his stare on the mirror, determined. Nothing really happens. Not for a few minutes. But he is patient. And looks increasingly tense, transfixed, as if in an unsettling staring competition with himself, or something reflected.
Then, finally, the edges of the mirror seem to distort. Hard bathroom lines shown in its image bend and shift as if the surface itself were disturbed, and the glass seems to crack.
A violent jolt as Charles twitches the phone away, the viewer given a sense of vertigo as the view is left hanging over the tiled floor. ]
There, [ is breathed out, equal part nerves and relief that he's finally managed it. Then it goes black. ]
storage; video clip. oo1.
He sets his stare on the mirror, determined. Nothing really happens. Not for a few minutes. But he is patient. And looks increasingly tense, transfixed, as if in an unsettling staring competition with himself, or something reflected.
Then, finally, the edges of the mirror seem to distort. Hard bathroom lines shown in its image bend and shift as if the surface itself were disturbed, and the glass seems to crack.
A violent jolt as Charles twitches the phone away, the viewer given a sense of vertigo as the view is left hanging over the tiled floor. ]
There, [ is breathed out, equal part nerves and relief that he's finally managed it. Then it goes black. ]