To Production Majors, To Artists, To Soldiers of Cinema

by Elizabeth Cho

About a week ago I finally got around to watching Harmony Korine’s most recent movie Spring Breakers. I’ve also been getting into the habit of searching for online film discussions on sites like reddit and mubi after watching a film and reading some user commentary. So, naturally, after finishing Spring Breakers I typed in the title to the search box of reddit and was pleased to see that the director had done an “AMA” a few months back, where he answered, or rather, attempted to answer some questions that redditors submitted. Most users commented about the nonsensical replies Korine was providing, calling it “the worse AMA since Rampart” (the Woody Harrelson AMA fiasco). I disagree with these users. There were quite a few gems of responses, my favorite being Korine’s advice to new directors, where he name-drops director Werner Herzog.

herzog

 

I remember reading this and mentally bookmarking it.

“Soldier of cinema,” I thought, “I like that.”

Then today I watched the short film Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe. It’s not actually directed by Herzog, but by a fellow documentary filmmaker, the late Les Blank. And yes, Herzog does, in fact, eat his shoe- but only after boiling it for five hours with stock, vegetables, and generous amounts of hot sauce. The dare came about from a promise Herzog made to the not-yet director Errol Morris. From the backseat of a car, Herzog tells the camera how he had read Errol Morris’ writings and encouraged him to get into film. “He has thousands and thousands of pages of the most incredible material I’ve seen in my life but he has not finished his books. So I told him ‘You are a man who should make films and you are going to do that film now’ and he said to me ‘I don’t have any money and no one will give me money’ and I said ‘Money doesn’t make films. Just do it and take the initiative.’ And I said ‘I’m going to eat my shoes if you finish that one.’”

So, as I’m sure you can guess, Errol Morris makes the movie, Werner Herzog eats his shoe.

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But, of course, it’s not just about the shoe. I’m sure people will come across the title Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe and think “Wow, these artists dudes are crazy” or perhaps they’ll just laugh at what seems like a terrible bet to lose.  Sure, Herzog prepares, boils, and eats his shoe on screen, but he also takes the time to speak of the destruction caused by capitalistic television and to demand what he calls “adequate images”.

If we speak of television it’s just ridiculous and destructive. It kills us. And talk-shows will kill us. They kill our language. So we have to declare holy war against what we see every single day on television, commercials and… I think there should be real war against commercials, real war against talk-shows, real war against Bonanza, Rawhide or these things.

And suddenly, hearing that, I remembered what Korine said. Or, what Korine said that Herzog said. “Soldier of cinema”. I went back to the thread on reddit and took a screenshot of his words. Rereading it, it’s quite cliche to say “never give up” as a piece of advice, but really, Korine speaks the truth. There is a war and you/I/ we are soldiers of cinema. If you/I/we do believe that there exists a lack of adequate images, it’s you/I/we that have to create them.  And I’m saying this for you but I’m also saying it for me but mostly for us. In the name of cinema, in the name of Errol Morris’ subsequent twelve-films-made success, in the name of Werner Herzog eating his shoe.

For anyone with twenty minutes to spare, here’s the entire film on youtube.

4 Responses to To Production Majors, To Artists, To Soldiers of Cinema

  1. ana-lomtadze says:

    This is great!!! Your post also reminds me of an interview with Haneke.(http://www.kinoeye.org/04/01/interview01.php)
    Here is a (very lengthy) quote: “I am most concerned with television as the key symbol primarily of the media representation of violence, and more generally of a greater crisis, which I see as our collective loss of reality and social disorientation. Alienation is a very complex problem, but television is certainly implicated in it. We don’t, of course, anymore perceive reality, but instead the representation of reality in television. Our experiential horizon is very limited. What we know of the world is little more than the mediated world, the image. We have no reality, but a derivative of reality, which is extremely dangerous, most certainly from a political standpoint but in a larger sense to our ability to have a palpable sense of the truth of everyday experience…Television accelerates our habits of seeing. Look, for example, at advertising in that medium. The faster something is shown, the less able you are to perceive it as an object occupying a space in physical reality, and the more it becomes something seductive. And the less real the image seems to be, the quicker you buy the commodity it seems to depict. Of course, this type of aesthetic has gained the upper hand in commercial cinema. Television accelerates experience, but one needs time to understand what one sees, which the current media disallows. Not just understand on an intellectual level, but emotionally. The cinema can offer very little that is new; everything that is said has been said a thousand times, but cinema still has the capacity, I think, to let us experience the world anew.”

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Aron Brown: In Response to “Is This the Way to Remember the Wave??”

What is particularly upsetting about this scenario is the fact that, as the OP recognized, the French New Wave’s intention was to challenge its audience, operate as non-commercially as possible, and always deal with the world with a truckload of irony. It’s a bit like reducing another famous French movement, the Existentialist movement, down to being a snooty thing to do with your smokes and your café friends.

It hardly needs to be said, when a movement or an idea is deliberately undermined, there’s usually a way someone is profiting from that. In this case, Icona Pop is benefitting from utilizing the movement’s reputation for sophistication and timelessness— but more importantly, the media industry is benefiting from these associations without actually honoring the philosophies of the movement. When things are parsed to their smallest components, it is easier to remove the parts that make it a threat. Here, this homage to the FNW heavily romanticized the sixties and removed the techniques of the movement from their context. Existentialism has become a caricature of itself, interchangeable with nihilism in the public eye. When someone, especially a politician, is having an existential crisis, it is an idea played up for amusement or scorn; the Republican Party doesn’t know what to do now that the debt relief budget has passed, they’re having an existential crisis.

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In their original form, the FNW and the existentialists presented a problem to the powers that be, in that both were created to challenge the colonialist, moralistic narrative we keep today. Without second-guessing our identities— what we must do in life, who we must be— and/or how we identify with the characters meant to represent us onscreen— the female character’s narrative versus the male’s narrative versus the person of color’s narrative and the roles they assign us— then we fall into a trap. Both French movements were created to make us question our roles in life. But as they are now, they are neutered versions of their revolutionary roots.

In a world where our self-identity continues to be shaped around who we sympathize with on the screen, using FNW techniques to separate ourselves from the image and be aware of what’s happening behind the camera is even more important. We’re surrounded by media input, all of which continues to tell the same hero’s journey. In fact, there was a very interesting TEDx about rising trend of “epic violence” in teen and young adult films. These stories, more often than not, focus on young people, destined to overthrow some Big Bad in the style of Star Wars and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Which isn’t to say that this is necessarily a bad thing, but it teaches something marketable rather than something radical. People expect to find their destined love or their destined purpose and they expect their evils to be large and violent and incomprehensible. But evils usually come from the idea that… you are destined to do something, that you’re untouchable and on solid moral ground. That you’re a hero. The people who have been most assured in their worst actions are the people who felt their purpose was clear and just (and that they were like the heroes of legend, too! a Percival or a Galahad…). It’s where the cult of the personality/messiah figure comes from as well, which has given people the unquestioned power they need to commit atrocities.

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Real revolution comes from questions. The FNW and the existentialists understood that everything must be questioned, exposed to inquiry, and investigated. Between the decentering techniques and the political messages embedded in deconstructing film/narratives/characters, the FNW revolutionized sixties’ cinema. As in, brought the revolution to the world of film; they made you question the structure of the movie itself, what it was teaching you, who you were in it. It’s still important to do this and not lose the message of doubting and questioning in “homages” like this one, full of romanticized, neutered images. It’s not that FNW film is purposeless— they weren’t nihilists— but it is film that questions its own existence.

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Ayana Aaron: In Response to The Odyssey of a CAMS Student

I have been a CAMS major for three semesters. In this time I have experienced a phenomenon that I like to call THE QUESTION AND RESPONSE (Katie and Lily touched upon it in their post The Odyssey of a CAMS Student). On the surface it’s an innocuous exchange between two people, but upon further inspection it highlights all the major points that Katie and Lily wrote about. It usually goes like this:

Person: What’s your major?

Me: I’m a CAMS major!

Person: Oh, that’s cool. What do you want to do with that?

Me: I don’t know.

This interaction can be broken down into three parts. The First: “Oh, that’s cool.”

The second “what are you going to do with that.” And the third: “I don’t know.”

  • The First: “Oh, that’s cool.”

What I’m sure is meant to be a harmless comment about how fun my major sounds, starts to sound like condescension after a couple of these exchanges. Yes, I am a CAMS major. Yes, I do watch a lot of movies for homework. No, my major is not any less work than yours. I have papers and projects and tests to study for.

My first CAMS class was taken for fun. While I continue to believe that my classes are enjoyable, my initial amusement-based interest has morphed into a sincere academic pursuit.

I think this is an example of “transcendental homelessness.” People, Wellesley College administrators and students, friends and family, don’t really know where to place us within the context of academia. I think CAMS is one of the most interdepartmental majors out there, and when people ask me what I study I am sometimes at a loss for words. It’s hard to give a definitive answer. I think Katie and Lily said it best: “The capability of being fluid is essential as a CAMS major at Wellesley.”

  • The Second: “What you want to do with that?”

I wonder if Econ majors get asked this question as much as we do. As Katie and Lily put it, “we cannot have concrete answers about our futures.” I think people know this when they ask this question. They want us to acknowledge, in their presence for some reason, that the odds are against us in the film business. They are right. Success, unfortunately, is not imminent. To paraphrase Katei and Lily again, we are, mostly, female film students at a liberal arts college that does not have best production facilities. On top of that, we are trying to enter an industry where men tend to be in positions of power and the “connection” is king.

  • The Third: “I don’t know.”

This is where things get personal. In all honesty, I usually lie in response to this question. I know what I want to be, but have a hard time articulating it because of my own insecurities in the face of the previous question. I want be a filmmaker: a person who makes films. What better way to articulate a dream than on a public forum via homework assignment? So to answer the question posed at the end of Katie and Lily’s post my monoliths are at the moment few and far between. All I have right now is a tentative passion and a sense that I could possibly be good at something. This is not a feeling I have experienced a lot in life, so I find myself questioning it and cherishing simultaneously.  I would also list Wellesley College as a monolith. Without it I wouldn’t be on this CAMS fueled existential journey.

On that note here is a link to my Odyssey film:

the forces

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Alexandria Lee: Response to Raising Social Consciousness Through Neorealism

Bicycle Thieves vs. The Icicle Thief

The Icicle Thief

As mentioned, the era of neorealism rejected the glitz and commercialism of Hollywood and instead, aimed to raise social consciousness among the general public. Bicycle Thieves is perhaps one of the most iconic films of this movement, highlighting the everyday struggle of poverty and unemployment in a postwar Italy. 

Come 1989, Nichetti’s The Icicle Thief, a parody of De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, is released, mixing the world of Italian realist film and modern commercials. Although a postmodern comedy, The Icicle Thief in a way achieves the same message as an neorealist film. We are presented with a family gathered around the television, the presented film “The Icicle Thief,” and the director. What we see is a distracted middle class family, mixing of commercial characters and film characters, and director who loses total control control over his own creation. The situation becomes total mayhem as reality blurs into the television and we are left with a completely different film from Bicycle Thieves.

Film does not belong in television and essentially, reality does not belong in television. The supposed neorealist film to be presented was supposed to be a reflection of life in postwar Italy, something that is close and real to the people. Yet, that reality is interrupted at the most pivotal points, invaded by colorful commercials and spurs into an uncontrollable mess that even the director cannot control.

Bicycle Thieves and The Icicle Thief are different yet both achieve in sending out their messages. The Icicle Thief is a modern and lighthearted take of neorealism, illustrating how our modern society is distracted by products of commercialism, skewing our view of reality.

“People see the world only on television. And this is a social problem, is not only a problem of show business, no? If you change the channel quickly, you pass from fiction to reality, from reality to fiction. From advertising to news, from news to sports. And you have a great confusion in your mind.” And so his movie is “a real situation—is not so fantastic, no?” (WHAT A FEELING!).

Highlight:

The actual director of the film, Nichetti, plays the part of the director of the presented film within the film which is also titled The Icicle Thief.

Works Cited

“WHAT A FEELING!” WHAT A FEELING. N.p., n.d. Web. 12 Dec. 2013.

“Neo-Neo-Realism.” The Icicle Thief. N.p., n.d. Web. 12 Dec. 2013.

 

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Ama Adi-Dako: In Response To “MANIFESTO: Political Consciousness”

I think you’ve raised some important points here.

I also believe that despite the influx of political themed films in these past few years (Captain Phillips, A Long Walk To Freedom, The Butler, etc.), the viewers aren’t being asked to be active spectators, but passive observers. I don’t think the lack of active spectatorship is because they are Hollywood or mainstream films in particular, after all look at films like Paradise Now and Do The Right Thing. They lack of active spectatorship happens because these films are part of a trend rather than a movement. That is, after the success of Django Unchained, a whole new market opened for slavery films and Hollywood capitalized on it. It is one thing to talk about the political for the sake of opening a dialogue, and another to talk about the political to win an Oscar, which is what most of these Hollywood films are written for…critical acclaim.  These films are “fetishizing”, as Mulvey puts it, the sensationalism behind those stories and histories (i.e. slavery, aparthetid etc) and not necessarily putting the issues first. They lull us into a false sense of awareness and open discourse, but the representation of reality here is not the reality of representation. The films aren’t raising questions; they are answering them from a selected point of view, and so we automatically become passive spectators. I have given this example in our class forum before but I want to reiterate it here. Look at Captain Phillips, a film that is made into an America hero tale of overcoming all obstacles against all odds while neglecting the larger questions surrounding the hijacking.

In the film, no one is asking why it is that Somali citizens have guns and weapons when none of these are manufactured in their own country or what Western powers stand to gain through the piracy act. It definitely allows us to sympathize with the Somalis but it is mainly supposed to show the bravery of an American in times of adversity. And so we are not being asked to question, we are being asked to comprehend. That is of course not to say that narrative/mainstream film can’t raise questions.

From the tone of the manifesto, I got the feeling that mainstream cinema is being blamed for the lack of political films. Do mainstream/Hollywood films and political films have to be mutually exclusive in terms of effectively communicating the message? Look at Paradise Now. That was a typical mainstream Hollywood distributed by Time Warner. It had very little to no avant-garde shots or counter-narrative sequences. It didn’t sacrifice the suspense and entertainment factor for its message. And it still effectively communicated the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in a way that we were not used to hearing, especially being in the US. Are new images and subtle metaphors the only way to create an active spectator? Why does entertainment have to be sacrificed for the message? Look at Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing. That is also a mainstream film. Granted, as Sarah Bailin noted in her response to my post on narrative vs. art film, Spike Lee’s cinematography did have very New Wave elements, but it is still a mainstream film. I think what we need to focus on is how to create better films in general rather than going against the mainstream. Of course I am biased because I want to work in Hollywood and make big budget movies one day. But I think it is possible to do that and have political meaning. What do you think?

We must also remember that the film making process is also political. It is a capitalist industry and making money is a priority. Until the recycled images of Hollywood are no longer guaranteed to bring in revenue, there is no real incentive to change them. It is up to the new CAMS generation to do what Welles, Boyle and even Nolan did with new images and ways of seeing.

A large part of film making now is the marketing of it. Trailers need to go viral to help movies get noticed and non-confrontational or “weird’ images don’t make the YouTube Most popular page. So that is also something for us to think about as the nouveau film generation when negotiating what kind of images we want to put forward. How do we create something new, political, and meaningful without being overly sensationalist for the sake of getting YouTube hits?

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Tara Gupta in response to Viewing 202 Through a Lens of Gender/Sexuality

I agree with the final statement regarding Contempt that Camille’s death “is not against women per se,” and want to elaborate on what I think it is about.

First, we must remember that Camille’s death in Contempt does not stem from or have a purpose in the narrative of the film. Her death is very random and unpredictable in terms of the narrative, but there are a couple interpretations that can be pulled out from her death. On one hand, her death represents Brigitte Bardot’s status as a tool of capitalist, big budget film companies that Godard and fellow New Wavers critique. She dies in Prokosch’s shiny red car, which is a symbol of wealth and capitalism. On the other hand, Cubists, Modernists, and other abstract art movements influenced Godard heavily; the film tells us that life is made up of pieces, memories, flashbacks, desires, and history; Camille’s death can be a symbol for the uncertainty of existence and the randomness of death. Her death highlights the existential undertones of the film in that there is no God or higher power who decides who dies and who lives, contrary to what Greek myths claim. Another important theme in the film following existentialism is chronic homelessness. Her death really brings out this point as it is intercut with Paul’s glancing out into the ocean. Paul and the spectator think they have reached some kind of conclusive end, but, as Fritz Lang says in the film, “Death is not the end.” Camille is a symbol of home for Paul, but now that she’s dead, he has no home. Both he and the spectator from her death on must begin a new odyssey of searching for an understanding of home in the face of chronic homelessness.

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Sarah Bailin: In Response To “A Dialogue Between Two Aspiring Filmmakers”

Your blog brings up some valuable points that I believe have been lacking in our discussions thus far. Why are mainstream films considered inferior? More importantly, why do we as academics feel the need to debate the issue of mainstream versus art cinema anyway?

The fact of the matter is, the line between “mainstream” and “art” is becoming increasingly blurred. While on the one hand, Spike Lee’s “mainstream” (as in released by a big Hollywood studio) film, Do the Right Thing, does mostly follow traditional continuity conventions (eyeline matching, shot-reverse-shot structures, graphic continuity, etc.) à la a good mainstream movie should, it would be impossible to deny its obvious Godardian tangents and despite its ostensible cause-and-effect narrative, its characters are notoriously unpredictable and the ending is ambiguous enough to make any New Wave director of the past proud. This is no coincidence. Spike Lee is one of the poster-boys of the New Hollywood.

As the old silver-screeners started to die out, a new population of film directors moved in, and unlike many of their predecessors, they had studied film history. Not only did these “film brats” have the technical and historical know-how to make use of the cinematic trends both on and off the mainstream, but as many of them started off as independent filmmakers (Spike Lee being one of them), they also had a chance to develop their own styles without excessive oversight that they were then able to fold into the mainstream market. I say mainstream market because like everything else in the past 60-odd years, the cinema industry has not been immune to globalization. Even Hollywood as a physical location is no longer a sure definition of mainstream. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, In the Mood for Love, Todo Sobre Mi Madre, Slumdog Millionaire—all films produced outside the United States by non-Americans (with the exception of Ang Lee who is a naturalized American) and yet ones that have been received with critical and commercial success in the states precisely because of their combination of mainstream narrative appeal and acquisition of formally art film techniques. If the postmodern age has killed auteur theory, it has only produced more auteurs (perhaps the antithesis of the original vertically integrated Hollywood system of production) both at home and abroad.

It is tempting—particularly among academics—to equate mainstream with bad and art film with good, but in this postmodern age of cinema and the world, labels are redundant. The viewer decides the value of what they see. They define art. And my definition is this: every film, yes, EVERY film—mainstream, “experimental”, mindless drivel you turn on as background noise when you should be studying, all of it—is art because it exists for ME. For all of us. For all its other purposes—to change society, to influence politics, etc.—first and foremost, it exists to be seen. What distinguishes good art from bad art to me is not the genre or other arbitrary categorization assigned to it, but those pieces that make me think because someone has thought about them. Is Godard a great filmmaker because he is a pioneer of art cinema? No. He is a great filmmaker because he put in the effort to make films that in turn make me re-consider the world and the role I play in shaping it. Just like Do the Right Thing made me or Paradise Now or Citizen Kane or any of the other “mainstream” films that shocked me out of my complacency.

So before we—the next generation of filmmakers and film theorists, the film brats of the future—resign ourselves to the binary categories of mainstream or art cinema, or, worse yet, find ourselves “condemned” to working within the mainstream, let me make one final point. How many of us have stories similar to the ones expressed by Ximena and Ama? How many of us took our first film class because we loved the films we had grown up watching? And how many of those films were anything but our country’s mainstream? So if today’s mainstream is yesterday’s art, what does our “conforming” matter if, in the end, we can inspire the next generation of film brats to push the bar even further? We don’t need to cause a revolution; we just have to acknowledge our part in the one that is already occurring.

In answer to your question, Ama, this is how we change the perception of Hollywood films: we change OUR definition of them.

REFERENCES:

Bordwell, David, and Kristin Thompson. Film Art: An Introduction. New York:    McGraw-Hill, 2013.

 

One Response to Sarah Bailin: In Response To “A Dialogue Between Two Aspiring Filmmakers”

  1. ama-adi-dako says:

    *Stands up and applauds*

    This is amazing insight. It says a lot of things that I have not been able to articulate. I especially enjoyed the last part about us changing our definition of Hollywood cinema.

    But to what? The definition of the mainstream now works so well because it makes people feel more at ease about enjoying and understanding the film. Movies have gotten more expensive and people mostly want to see things they will understand, images they have seen before. So what new definition can we give to Hollywood films that still keeps this inclusion of the masses AND incorporates intellectually stimulating content and new images that Hollywood could use more of?

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Tara Gupta in response to ‘The Future of the Post-Colonial’

 

The way the media portrays people of color can be traced back to John Berger’s Ways of Seeing. In the book, Berger explains how ‘spectator-buyers’ aspire to be the images that they see in the media (Berger talks most about advertisements and paintings, but here we will discuss media/film at large). The spectator-buyer envies the images she sees and must buy (or at least buy into) the images. Berger continues, “The power to spend money is the power to live. According to the legends of publicity, those who lack the power to spend money become literally faceless. Those who have the power become loveable” (143). Historically and currently, African Americans and people of color more broadly are among the poorest in America. People of color and particularly black Americans are systematically disenfranchised to the point where some of the deepest impacts of poverty manifest themselves regularly in their communities. As such, there is no reason for films and media to include people of color: they don’t have the power to spend, and therefore become faceless. The spectator-buyer would not want to ‘become’ the images or products associated with the ‘faceless.’

However, we cannot avoid analyzing the success of many directors of color and films/media about people of color. One of the most mainstream, wealthy, and well-known African American directors is Tyler Perry. His films are all based on a funny, animated family under the rule of the maternal honcho Madea, whom Perry himself plays dressed in drag. His films are some of the highest grossing of all time and his demographic is primarily black Americans. Perry’s films are often slandered, including by Spike Lee, for portraying harmful caricatures of African Americans. The fact that Perry is black and makes films about black people does not make his films politically and racially responsible. He exploits black people in order to turn up a profit from the black community itself.

As Ayana points out, people are noticing that having a more diverse cast or writers makes for better shows, but simply having diversity for the sake of having diversity is not politically and racially responsible. Racially and politically responsible films should not just be trying to make a bigger profit margin, but should represent nuanced and accurate representations of contemporary issues facing people of color.

Guillermo del Toro’s highly anticipated action sci-fi film Pacific Rim (2013) had a biracial protagonist couple: the man was Caucasian American and the woman was Japanese. Some say that this was a progressive move by del Toro, but a closer look at the movie market suggests otherwise. The Asian market for mainstream American films is one of the largest in the whole world and including an Asian female appeals to that Asian market (The Wall Street Journal). As Stuart Hall points out in “Questions of Cultural Identity,” many formerly colonized countries’ populations have an obsession with western culture because “images of the rich, consumer cultures of the West” permeate all corners of developing nations (302). Returning to Berger then, by showing images of an Asian woman who the Caucasian man falls for shows Asian audiences, who have money and power, an image that they should want to emulate and buy.

It is certainly difficult to make films that are racially and politically responsible, but as Ayana says, shows like “Orange is the New Black” and “Community” are starting to subvert the commoditized portrayals of people of color in the media. “Orange is the New Black” (ONB) is a show about women of color who have been incarcerated; queer women are represented in the show as well. ONB subverts the strategies of del Toro and Perry because it used Netflix as its release platform. The show never aired on television; it just went straight to Netflix. The political implications of this are: one, the show did not have to rely on advertisements by big companies to survive; and two, the show didn’t have to compromise its material for a television channel’s requirements and point-of-view. More independent media sources like Netflix and YouTube have the power to change representations of minority groups, but directors of color and actually any director must resist the temptation to caricature people of color or use them to make higher profits.

Sources:

John Berger “Ways of Seeing”

Stuart Hall “Modernity and Its Futures”

The Wall Street Journal http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052748704913304575371394036766312

One Response to Tara Gupta in response to ‘The Future of the Post-Colonial’

  1. Styela says:

    Perry is black and makes films about black people does not make his films politically and racially responsible.It is certainly difficult to make films that are racially and politically responsible, but as Ayana says, shows like “Orange is the New Black” and “Community” are starting to subvert the commoditized portrayals of people of color in the media.nice post.

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Vivienne Shaw: In response to Negotiating Hollywood, Narrative Cinema and ‘Art’ Films

I agree with Ama and Ximena’s general thoughts on the differences in perception of mainstream and art cinema. I absolutely do not think that mainstream, commercial films should be deemed inferior to auteur, “art cinema”. Yet the interesting thing is that this is not a conclusion I would have made prior to taking this class. I think rather than examine the content of the films as a basis for comparison, examining the medium of film itself yields larger conclusions.

The concept of film being a representation of some sort of reality has been a major theme of this course, and has completely shaped the way I view film. In my opinion, every film produces a Leary-esque “new reality” to its audience. And this new reality is always enlightening, to some degree. Some, like Bazin may have supported films that were more of a representation of reality as we know it, but others, like Leary, encouraged seeking realities as far away as possible from ours.

Which presentation of reality is better? It is a bit unclear. I think “art cinema” like the works of Jean-Luc Godard, “Daisies”, “Persona”, or many of the other works we have watched in this class tend to present a reality that is farther away from our own. Commercial Hollywood cinema is generally more understandable, more relatable, and thus is a representation of a reality that a majority of people are already comfortable with and can comprehend. But this may not be such a bad thing. Leary argues that exposing ourselves to new realities actually expands our brain capacity and our evolution as a species. But again, a mainstream film does expose its audience to a new reality. It just tends to be more similar to the one we inhabit.

Thus I would argue that arguing whether “art cinema” or mainstream cinema is superior is rather futile. They both present different things and expose their audiences to different realities. Of course films can be compared on the basis of writing, acting, or other technical aspects, but I do not believe there is anything about the nature of a film that makes it inherently better than another. Ultimately comparing films in this way is essentially comparing realities, which certainly can only be subjective.

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Ana Lomtadze: In response to “Is This Really the Way to Remember The Wave?”

Thanks for the wonderful blog-post![1] Indeed, the period of late 1950ies and 60ies – the time of the French and other New Waves – was a unique precedent all over the world, in which cinema occupied a particular space for the convergence of politics, social movements, and theories. Recognized as an ideological apparatus, cinema provided a space for deconstruction of reality, reflection and resistance. So, the question of how we remember and rethink the FNW in 2013 is of crucial importance. The original blog-post talks about the trend in popular culture to over-romanticize the FNW by using its traits (“Wave iconography, with shots against walls, cafes, and, of course, plenty of cigarette smoking”) as signs of something hip and cool. And yet these signs become “pure placeholders”, while the FNW – superficial and commodified.

I would like to discuss another contemporary trend in relation to FNW, which might be unknown to some of the Western audiences. Unlike what one may expect, in my home country Georgia, the FNW and its prominent devotee, Jean-Luc Godard are quite famous. However, the slight reference to Godard in a conversation has in itself become a sign of coolness and ‘hipster’-ness, and thus, of pretension and elitism. About two years ago, an amateur Georgian group of comedians called “daviti da agmasheneblebi” shared a video on youtube, titled “ Godard”[2]. In the video a group of men sit around a table with stern faces, smoking and discussing Godard, except that all they do is actually conjugate his last name and here and there throw in a couple of empty phrases, such as “oh yes, Godard…of course…so interesting…his views…oh well, of course…I will repeat myself again, that Godard….well, Godard!…”. The video ends by men standing up with their hands up in the air, as if praying to Godard, the idol, repeating his name over and over. It is surely quite funny and witty, and probably reveals some truth about certain type of ‘artsy’, elitist crowd that uses big names or words just for the sake of using them. Though different in style and content, this youtube video is similar to the Icona Pop music clip discussed in the original blog-post  – at the end of the day, neither of them does justice to the FNW. If the former makes the FNW inaccessible, the latter almost turns the entire movement along with France/Paris into fetishes.

The two trends are certainly unfortunate as the FNW was in fact ideologically against both elitism and the mainstream pop culture/Hollywood of the time that served (and still serves) the purpose of (capitalist) brainwashing. After all, the FNW as such, and Godard in particular, (though also Agnes Varda and Chris Marker from the Left Bank) were essentially leftist. Indeed, I find the “punk movement” analogue, from the original blog-post, very apt.

I understand that any revolutionary movement runs the risk of being elitist and perhaps, it has been such in some cases. But labeling Godard elitist is just too easy. Frankly, no matter whether you are a film theorist, a cinephile or just another Earthly spectator with little experience of cinema, it is most likely that you will not understand Godard’s film (particularly the later ones, such as “Film Socialisme”), or at least, not all of it. However, difficulty is not enough of a reason to discard the FNW; Jean-Louis Comolli – one of the influential figures of the FNW as both a filmmaker and an editor-in-chief of Cahiers du Cinéma from 1966 to 1968[3]  – reminisces in his book, “Cinema, the Counter-Spectacle”, a type of cinema that conceives of and constructs a spectator, who is not only able to see and hear, but also capable of seeing the limits of seeing and hearing the limits of hearing[4]. The cinema that Comolli describes is, in its essence, confrontational and inventive in form, which is exactly how Godard’s individual and collaborative work (“Dziga Vertov Group”), particularly since 1967, can be described. Just because it puts more strain on your brain, such cinema is not inherently elitist. Rather, it serves critical and emancipatory purposes. Significantly, you don’t need a degree in Film Studies or, for that matter, a college degree, to be able to be affected by intelligent films, to reflect and question. And you certainly don’t need to be able to fix the meaning of every single scene.

Finally, here is one last thought: Peter Wollen claims: “It [counter-cinema] can only exist in relation to the rest of the cinema. Its function is to struggle against the fantasies, ideologies, and aesthetic devices”.[5] The FNW or any counter-cinema can never become the mainstream, but can only exist as an alternative – there lies its vulnerability, but also its strength and creativity.

 

 

 


[1] Cho, Elizabeth. Huber, Sarah Jane. “Is This Really the Way to Remember The Wave?” https://blogs.wellesley.edu/cams20201fa13/category/new-waves/

[2] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOE6eMOAhgE

[3] Cahiers du Cinéma was one of the most important French Film magazines, founded in 1951 by André Bazin, Jacques Doniol-Valcroze and Joseph-Marie Lo Duca. Before becoming the FNW filmmakers, Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut, and Claude Chabrol were active contributors of the magazine as critics and theorists. Cahiers du Cinéma continues to be published to this day.

[4] Here is the original quote by Comolli:“…il est arrive plus d’une fois au cinema de supposer et de construire un spectateur digne de ce nom, capable non seulement de voir et d’entendre (ce qui deja ne vas pas de soi) mais de voir et d’entendre les limites du voir et de l’entendre.”(Comolli, Jean-Louis. Cinéma contre spectacle.Verdier:2009, p.11.

[5]Wollen,Peter “Godard And Counter-Cinema:Vent d’Est”. Narrative, Apparatus, Ideology: A Film Theory Rader. Edited by Philip Rosen. Columbia University Press:1986, p.129.

One Response to Ana Lomtadze: In response to “Is This Really the Way to Remember The Wave?”

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