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Everything Jerome Cargill thought about media, film and popular culture and bothered to put it on a blog for his students. You're welcome.
I've relocated. Thanks Tumblr - it's been good.
Genre Theory and the Horror Genre
Henri Focillon’s schema for the life span of cultural forms suggests four successive states of development: “the experimental age, the classic age, the age of refinement, [and] the baroque age” (10). In discussing Genres, Thomas Schatz adopts this idea to explain the progression of forms like the musical and the Western. But his consideration of this model is limited to treating the four stages as closed phenomenon: what happens when a genre finishes this cycle? Does it remain in the baroque age for the remainder of its existence? In this essay I will affirm the merit of this model in relation to the horror genre, but also identify the inadequacy of considering the cycle in such a limited way. The model is in fact best utilised as a recurring template that is relevant not only to the overarching evolution of the genre, but also to its individual movements. Indeed, as will be shown, this model could be as relevant to cycles of four films, yet alone four decades.
Just as the silent era laid the foundations for narrative cinema, it too can be considered the experimental stage for many genres including horror. Horror in the 1920s found itself very much in the realm of the gothic. Films like Nachte des Grauens (Robinson, 1916), Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari (Wiene, 1919) and Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (Murnau, 1922), all from Germany, established many of the shadowy and disturbingly macabre elements that Hollywood productions like London After Midnight (Browning, 1927) and The Bells (Young, 1924) capitalised on (Worland, 50). The first American horror star – ‘the man with a thousand faces’ – Lon Chaney, starred in dozens of films that experimented with now popular features of horror, such as the deformed central monster (Worland, 51). He played the legless Blizzard in The Penalty (Wallace Worsley, US, 1920); an ape-man in A Blind Bargain (Worsley, US, 1922); Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Worsley, US, 1923); the deranged Erik in The Phantom of the Opera (Julian, US, 1925); and an armless circus performer in The Unknown (Browning, US, 1927). The characteristics of these roles were forerunners to the likes of Dracula and Frankenstein, who were to dominate the classic period of the horror genre that followed.
The classic stage according to Schatz is “one of formal transparency” whereby “the narrative formula and the film medium work together to transmit and reinforce that genre’s social message” (38). It is appropriate then that the next phase of the genre is generally referred to as the ‘golden age’ or ‘classic’ period of horror. This period was significant for the influence of Universal Studios who produced some of the best known archetypal villains and monsters, including Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman, the Invisible Man and the Mummy. These monsters would spawn countless sequels that would dominate the genre’s output towards the mid-century. Some of these sequels would prove to be more commercial and garner more critical acclaim that their respective originals, like Bride of Frankenstein (Whale, 1935) (Ebert, 89). The ‘formal transparency’ of this cycle of films was a reflection of what Franklin D. Roosevelt addressed in 1933: “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself – nameless unreasoning, unjustified terror.” In this statement contains what the classic horror film was responding to: an abstract fear that the horror genre could make tangible. The narrative formula, now developed, and the film medium, which continued to advance, acted uniformly in this period to directly articulate a clear ideology.
The period of refinement for the horror genre is an extended period that continued up until almost the turn of the century. After the classic age, where “the genre’s straightforward message has ‘saturated’ the audience” the refinement stage is one where the genre’s “transparency gradually gives way to opacity” (Schatz, 38). A turning point then for the genre is Psycho (Hitchcock, 1960), which paved the way for just about every horror film that proceeded. It gives a taste of opacity that the genre was to explore in greater depth later in the slashers and psychological horrors of the 1970s and 1980s. Psycho’s progressive influence is largely to do with the character of Norman Bates – the ‘monster’ of the film. He offers a refinement on the horror monster by indicating the opaque direction that the genre is shifting towards with his normal exterior, but terrifying interior. As a signifier for the age of refinement, Psycho suggests the way in which horror of its time was attempting to find its place amongst a society dramatically changed after World War Two.
The next turning point, following the conditioning of formula in the 1980s, which produced genre classics like Friday the 13th (Cunningham, 1980) and Nightmare of Elm Street (Craven, 1984), was Scream (Craven, 1996). This film registered the arrival of the baroque phase with its self-referential style and mannerist formulation. A key scene in the film has several characters watching Halloween (Carpenter, 1978) at a party. During which Randy, Scream’s ‘in-film’ film buff, outlines the rules of surviving a horror film – which includes not having sex. Crosscut with this scene is the heroine of the film with her boyfriend breaking that very rule. She survives the film, and performs the role of ‘final girl,’ despite losing her virginity (Clover, 82-87). While being self-aware, the film still managed to be conventional in the sense of scaring the audience, in the same way as a horror ordinarily would. Scream’s additional layer of complexity is due to the character’s awareness of horror conventions within a framework that is very self-consciously conventional. Scary Movie (Wayans, 2000) took the idea a step further: Scream underlined the conventions of the horror film; Scary Movie unashamedly parodied them.
The outline of how the horror genre may be seen to correspond to Focillon’s four categories is evident in the conventions of the genre as well as in tracing the overall progression of the films in a general fashion. In the discussion of Psycho it was noted how the characteristics of Norman Bates – as an interior monster – signified a shift in the way monsters were approached, and thus paved a way into the refinement phase. The approach to the notion of the horror monster is a way of reading each phase as unique to another. In the experimental phase, the monster was notable for his deformity, as reflected in the roles of Lon Chaney. In the classical phase, the monster was in his pure form: visually unique and often within an appropriately ghoulish setting. The refinement phase recorded the shift from an exterior monster to an interior monster – the monster could be hidden in the likes of Norman Bates (a normal exterior but a monstrous interior). And finally, in the baroque, the monster was not only internalised in normal looking people, but could also be found among us – the monster could even be the heroine’s boyfriend.
The tracing of the progression of the monster demonstrates how Focillon has accurately created a model that represents the development of an art form, but also how the horror genre, in the embodiment of the monster, reflects the fears of society. Horror films gave a tangibility to fear, and more importantly, depicted terror being overcome. Franklin D. Roosevelt spoke of fear in terms of “fear itself,” therefore it is logical that the horror genre initially located fear in the gothic – a mysterious, but removed place. Slowly the representation of the monster has development from being monstrous in appearance to seemingly not monstrous at all. Today the monster could be one of us. The sense of invasion this connotes is an extension of the fear of terrorism. Thus, the development I am speaking of is aligned with the fears of society. Focillon’s model is developing as we develop: “hold[ing], as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature” (Hamlet, III.2.21-22).
It seems only reasonable therefore to consider how Focillon’s model works in a historic framework: in an incomplete timeframe. In other words, now that we are deep into the baroque phase: what direction does this model suggest subsequent films in the horror genre will point? Are we to be subject to the mannerist work of postmodern horror directors for the remainder of the genre’s existence? Or is there an amendment that can be made to this merited model that has a closer fit to what is really going on in horror? What I am now going to suggest is that Focillon’s model is, while still appropriate for an overarching consideration of film genre, it is even more appropriate when used in studies of more focused series of films.
Firstly, the historical approach to horror outlined above– while applicable – is flawed, as it gives preference to the ‘video-store-categorisation’ system, as oppose to the horror genre being a heterogeneous phenomenon. It is all very well to consider horror as one body of films, but closer analysis easily uncovers several strands of horror, each unique. There is a clear turning point in Psycho. Previously I suggested that Psycho was the turning point between the classical and the refinement phase. Be that as it may, films leading up to Psycho are more unique to films that followed than this distinction may suggest. In fact, the films that followed demonstrate how multiple strands operate within a wider genre. Considered as one entity separately, the body of horror films pre-Psycho and post-Psycho represent Focillon’s model in themselves.
Pre-Psycho horror shares the same experimental phase as was earlier outlined; however, it is the three subsequent phases that can be considered differently. For a start, the classic phase was concise and succinct. It lasted only two-three years beginning with Dracula (Browning, 1931), and Frankenstein (Whale, 1931), it also included archetypal films like Dr Jerkyll and Mr Hyde (Mamoulian, 1931) The Old Dark House (Whale, 1932), The Mummy (Freund, 1932) The Island of Lost Souls (Kenton, 1932). From this startling collection of classic films comes the immediate commencement of the refinement phase, embodied best by James Whale’s follow up to Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein (1935). It recreated the elements of Frankenstein to ensure it was successful, but also added a layer of intrigue with its sophisticated humour and complex subtext as it began to explore in surprising depth the way a monster can be made sympathetic to the audience. (For instance, to take a simple example, the monster saves a drowning girl – but the act of heroism is misinterpreted as an attack.) The baroque phase followed soon after in the form of parody with such films as Abbott and Costello Meet The Invisible Man (Lamont, 1951) and Bud Abbott Lou Costello Meet Frankenstein (Barton, 1948). But also baroque in the mannerist sense, in films like The Lodger (Hitchcock, 1926), an early Hitchcock classic, and in the experimental and subtler style of producer Val Lewton whose film Cat People (Tourneur, 1942) was notably anachronistic for it never showed its monster.
The monster in this compressed cycle demonstrates again how Focillon’s model accurately represents this section of horror films. Again the early monster is notable for being deformed and notably inferior physically. The classic phase monster was still limited in his physicality, but often had a notable ability like Dracula’s morphing, the Invisible Man’s knack of disappearing and the monster’s strength from Frankenstein. The refinement period was more a transition toward the baroque phase where the monster’s of horror grew more complex. One way in which this was achieved was in Bride of Frankenstein where the monster learnt to communicate using language. Monsters of the baroque phase also capitalised on human paranoia, like in the endlessly suggestive camerawork of Cat People. The Body Snatcher (Wise, 1945) is also notable for starring Boris Karloff in a post Frankenstein role as a sinister grave robbing cabman that exploited Karloff’s persona to characterise the monster (Worland, 74). The Seventh Victim (Robson, 1943), House of Wax (De Toth, 1953) and Invasion of the Body Snatchers (Siegel, 1956) all too have unique approaches to the horror monster, each with additional layers of complexity.
The post-Psycho direction of the horror film is less linear: while pre-Psycho has a clear progression, Psycho signposted the beginning of several strands, or subgenres of horror, including the psychological horror and the slasher. Both subgenres can be analysed from the perspective of Follicon’s model, but more interestingly, both subgenres appear to have – post baroque age – converged. The psychological horror and the slasher film have concluded their individual trajectories and amalgamated into a genre that uses elements of both, suggesting the cyclic nature of Follicon’s theory.
The Slasher cycle moved into the classic phase with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Hooper, 1974), after films like The Birds (Hitchcock, 1963) and It’s Alive (Cohen, 1974) experimented with new cinematic vocabulary that included ‘shower scenes’. Carol Clover in her essay ‘Her Body, Himself: Gender and the Slasher Film’ defines the classic period of the slasher between 1974 and 1986 (1986 being when the sequel to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was released) (75). However in light of Focillon’s model, it is more accurate to suggest that the classic period was only temporary and the rush of sequels that followed the success of Halloween (Carpenter, 1978) and Friday the 13th (Cunningham, 1980) were – for the slasher film – a period of refinement. Sequels, by definition, are archetypically appropriate for Folcillon’s refinement period. They capitalise on the elements from the classic phase that achieved a positive audience response, and do something different to seem new and fresh. The baroque phase realigns with my initial model, with films like Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (Craven, 1994) and Scream both parodying now the well-known formula and conventions.
Similarly, with psychological horror, a representation of Follicon’s model can be found where the baroque phase leads to a convergence with the slasher. The psychological horror was an extension of the complex side of Psycho, which internalised a monster into a seemingly ordinary motel owner. The subgenre found horror in the ordinary, and turned that into the extraordinary. Both Rosemary’s Baby (Polanski, 1968) and The Shining (Kubrick, 1980) demonstrate this; the horror is internalised into everyday characters within unsuspecting environments. The serial killer subgenre was a further expression of these fears; it adopts the feel of the psychological horror as conventionally the emphasis is on the human psyche as the protagonist attempts to think like or think ahead of the killer. Today we can see the convergence of this genre with the slasher in a film like Saw (Wan, 2003). The main narrative drive of the film is from the killer’s placement of two men, each apparently unknown to the other, in an isolated room with their legs chained to opposite corners. They are told through a tape recording that only one is going to be allowed to go free: the one who kills the other before the clock strikes six. Within this narrative framework we are given flashbacks to the killer’s previous games. We see among other gruesome moments shotgun deaths, hand drill torture, a reverse bear trap threatening to destroy a woman’s head, and, furthermore, the event from which the film gains its title. The structural allows the emergence of both physiological horror and slasher conventions to transpire, in a film that is gruesome and chilling.
Historically speaking, the phase of horror in which are currently within may well be – in the eyes of Focillon’s model – similar to the phase that surrounded Psycho. Perhaps the baroque parodies of the 90s have run out and what we are left with now are experimental films for the next phase of horror. Hostel (Roth, 2005), Saw and its sequels, are all non-genre films with genre elements; they appear to be looking for conventions that are not crystallised like their predecessors. Given Focillon’s model, this uncertain, experimental, phase is likely to be followed by another classic period of distinctive horror. Focillon’s model is cyclic. Its phases demonstrate the rise and fall of a popular genre, which then adapts to the new audience and then repeats its model.
Further proof of the cyclic nature of the horror genre is within even smaller frameworks. I have shown how in breaking the horror genre in two, we find two different formulations of the experimental, classical, refinement and baroque framework. By going even further into series of films, we can also see the model operating in as smaller scheme of just a handful of films. Take the forever continuing A Nightmare of Elm Street series. The original film came along boasting a fresh approach to horror: its monster could enter his victims’ dreams and kill them there. This experimental idea was unique while still conforming to the conventions of 1980s slasher films. The sequel, therefore, locked in this experimental idea and moved the series forth into the classic phase by recycling the formula into something that was more comfortable for the audience. The refinement phase immediately followed. By the third film the series’ conventions were beginning to be skewed slightly to make the series seem fresh. The refinement period lasted two films until the campy A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Child (Hopkins, 1989), which suggests the coming of the baroque phase with a self-consciousness that is both complex and borderline parody. The later films in the series seem to have attempted a return to the experimental. Freddy Vs Jason (Yu, 2003) and Freddy Vs Ghostbusters (Braxtam, 2004) are representative of this trend; it is baroque in the sense of its intertextual complexity, but experimental in the sense that it attempts to drawn a new framework within horror conventions.
Even within this small selection of films one can see the development of the monster, Freddy Krueger, adhering to Focillon’s model. In the beginning of the series, Krueger was a frightening menace; his image invoked fear. However in the first film, before his image is iconic enough to be deemed part of the classical phase, his body is experimental in form. He is kept in shadows (where later films have his figure more of a visual focus) and his body itself is somewhat unreal. Images like where he is on fire in the climax appear not quite human – bereft of the form he would later develop, and dominate with. Through the development of the series, the human appearance of Krueger developed further as he began to communicate more and have a more active physicality. The baroque Krueger is a villain who actively embraces his role as a monster. He becomes a parodic producer of the horror, which he accompanies with his increased banter.
In conclusion, Focillon’s model is largely a viable approach to the horror genre, and, by extension, film genre generally. However, Schatz’s approach to the four ages is limited and fails to enlighten the merit of Focillon’s consideration of form. The model’s natural adaptation to the horror genre in so many different time spans demonstrates both the value of his approach and the formulaic undertones of the genre – suggesting that this essay can only have touched on its complexities. The horror genre considered alongside Focillon appears to be like a painting by Monet. Considered from afar one can appreciate the brush strokes for the overall impression that they create. But only once the viewer gets closer, breaks down the painting, and considers every segment individually, can one truly admire the overall impression that each individual brush stroke has combined to stimulate.
Bibliography
Clover, Carol. “Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film”, in Barry Keith Grant (ed.), The Dread of Difference: Gender and the Horror Film. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1996. 72-99.
Ebert, Roger. The Great Movies. New York: Broadway Books, 2002.
Focillon, Henri. Life of Forms in Art. New York: George Wittenborn, Inc., 1942.
Roosevelt, Franklin D. “First Inaugural Address.” Delivered March 4, 1933. Accessed 22 March, 2007. <http://www.bartelby.org/124/pres49.html>
Schatz, Thomas. Hollywood Genres: Formulas, Filmmaking and the Studio System. New York: Random House, 1981.
Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Ed. T. J. B. Spencer. London: Penguin, 1996.
Worland, Rick. The Horror Film: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2007.
A Rant on Generalisations
A generalisation is a point like: "Women then became a strong presence within the workforce and no longer depended on men to support them" or "Women weren’t happy with their current roles in society". They are generalisations because while you are saying something that is generally true, you sound extremely silly because you are applying a trend as a absolute truth. Of course not all women depended on men to support them, of course some women were happy with their role in society. So don't be a silly billy, THINK about what you are claiming. Find another way of expressing it: "as the traditional family structure broke down, more women found themselves in the work force with career aspirations. This meant a tension formed between the stereotypical role of house wife and the career aspirations of the new wave feminist. Some families could not cope with this tension and in some cases this contributed to the increase in divorce rates."
In other words, don't settle for a simple, 'A' happened and 'B' caused it. Take you time explaining the relationships between things. The more you can use evidence to support your points the better.
The price paid by the makers of The Cosby Show for its jumbo audience was clear: silence on racism.
'White Racism and The Cosby Show' by Mike Budd and Clay Steinman
Newlands College presents the Noscars 2013 Trailer - the best short film competition in town!
Hitler plans to increase the Noscars ratings - #Noscars2013
A celebration of #Noscars2012 ... #Noscars2013 launches on Tuesday!
Musicals and Fame - CG's Practice Essay
Media texts are created for society by society and communicate explicitly or implicitly ideological underpinnings that reveal significant truths. The relationship between media genres in film have continued to reflect society’s desires as the ultimate aim of a genre is to attract an audience and achieve the commercial imperative. The musical genre is no different, as the emphasis on performance values through the escapists visions of success, wealth and popularity, have captured the younger generations movement towards valuing stardom and fame. Through the course of this essay, I will argue that the significant presence of fame as a value for 2000s teenagers and young adults has resulted in a wave of musicals that reveal the ideological underpinning of society.
Fame was revealed to be prevalent in the 2000s through a study of values by the University of California: “The Rise of Fame: An Historical Content Analysis”. Using a framework where the researchers took the two most popular tween shows of the decade, they unpacked the values demonstrated in those shows. “Fame...was judged the top value in the shows of 2007, up from number fifteen (out of sixteen) in most of the prior decades.” The study hypothesised, and ultimately concluded that the social change that this shift revealed was largely centred around the “expansion of communication technologies”. The spectacular rise and dominance of the Internet and Web 2.0 between 1997 and 2007 is one driver of this shift. It has allowed social media to emerge as a prevalent form of communication between people and in particular the younger generations.
This has been reflected in key musicals of the 2000s including Hairspray. This 2007 film follows the journey of Tracey Turnbald achieving stardom on Baltimore television. The film opens with her singing “And someday when I take to the floor/The world's gonna wake up and see/Baltimore and me” establishing her desire for success and fame. Tracey demonstrates the ideological underpinnings of a fame-centred society by claiming “today all my dreams will come true”. The role of the film enters a didactic relationship with the audience, because ultimately Tracey’s dreams do come true and Hairspray acts to affirm the possibility of the achieving stardom, fame, success, and your dreams.
Hairspray and others films from the 2000s act to reinforce the message and ideology function of the musical through the lyrics. Like the musicals of the great Depression, the lyrics of the musicals act to include the audience in the message through the use of inclusive pronouns. In Follow the Fleet (1937) the film took on the Depression, offering the alternative solution to despair as being dance with lyrics that included messages like “If you step out on the floor, you forget your troubles…” Similarly in Hairspray the finale uses pronouns to include the audience in the message. “You Can’t Stop the Beat” is an exercise in reinforcement that attempts to further shift the narrative into the realm of possibility for the audience. Tracey sings “And if you try to hold me down /I'm gonna spit in your eye and say /That you can’t stop the beat!” challenging anyone in the audience to oppose her dream and claiming she will still succeed regardless. In both examples the use of “you” which addresses no specific character and instead indicates a desire of the films to include the audience in the message, establishing a rapport and a sense of intimacy. As a result the spectator can feel included in the message and escapism (to a place where the Depression is not an issue, and fame is only an audition away) can be achieved.
Other musicals of the 2000s eera reflect the desire for fame and capture the ideological message of performance values achieving stardom. Chicago in 2002 boasts the tagline “If you can’t be famous, be infamous”. While the film is set in the 1930s the message is amplified for the 2000s as the film was released after the first wave of pop idol shows that spurred on the reality TV craze that characterised the decade. In Chicago, the central character Roxie is obsessed with the idea of becoming known and achieving fame. She sings in her solo number “I'm gonna be a celebrity, that means somebody everyone knows.” She further reinforces the myth that anyone can achieve fame with the right talent when she sings “From just some dumb mechanics wife/I'm gonna be Roxie.” The narrative of achieving stardom is also picked up in other 2000s musicals such as Dreamgirls, Nine, and Moulin Rouge. In each of these examples, the agents in the narratives that are valued are the ones with strong performance abilities, reinforcing the value of performance and stardom that spawns from it.
The driving context behind the representation of the fame imperative in musicals has been the technological shift in communication. With the rise of YouTube, submitting your talent for an audience has never been easier. Stars like Carly Rae Jepson and Justin Bieber have been discovered through these portals which has only encouraged hope in YouTube users that this is an accessible route to stardom and fame. The community gained through online tools like YouTube is visible in reality TV shows as well that play a similar role in discovering talent. American Idol, which has now been running for 12 seasons, is part of the cultural landscape of America and has uncovered talent and helped young Americans achieve their dreams as well as perpetuating the value of striving for fame. The premise of the show is meritocratic: if you have the talent the show will value you. In promos for the show claims “you have one shot at fame, and it starts now” - once again reinforcing the culture of stardom and using inclusive pronouns to include the spectator in the message.
In conclusion, the rebirth of the musical in the 2000s has captured the fame imperative perpetuated by the rise in communication technologies and reality tv which has imbued society with values around the idea of fame, stardom and renown. The fifteen minute myth of fame has never been more possibly for any average-Joe and as a result the society shift, captured by the earlier mentioned study into values represented by our tv shows, has lead to a culture that values performance. Film is not the only medium to see this shift, as TV as well has picked up on this change with shows like Glee and Smash becoming central to this cultural movement. The individualistic nature of this value shift has a potentially concerning edge for society. But what is clear, is that the genre will continue to achieve commercial success should it mirror the values and concerns of the society within which it is made.
Awesome Alfred Hitchcock Infographic. Certainly seems to be a lot of ways to die in a Hitchcock film.
NZIFF - Much Ado About Nothing
Joss Whedon never really had a significant spot on my radar. I've never really followed any of his television work, but I've known his name from Toy Story and I watched Cabin in the Woods with some sense of anticipation because his name was attached to it. However, now that I've had the joy of experiencing Much Ado About Nothing, he's concreted into my radar and he holds a pretty special spot.
No consideration of Much Ado About Nothing can ignore the context in which the film was made. On a break from The Avengers, Joss Whedon invited a bunch of friends over to make a movie and spent 12 days shooting it at his house. This context had helped establish something very special for the film. There is a authentic ring to it and it feels fun to watch because it feels like it was fun to make. This is the spirit of the text, and this is why Whedon beats Branagh with this adaptation - he nails it tonally.
There is so many joyful aspects to this production. The casting is sublime, mainly unknowns playing well-trodden roles with strong intentions and no over-the-top desperation for laughs (cough, Michael Keaton, cough). The cinematography, shot in black and white all handheld, is stunning; lots of times the camera just discovers characters and moves with ease through the location - again adding to the authentic feel. Of course there is one off note, the wedding scene, which I've never seen done convincingly, and I'm cynical in thinking it will never be done well because it probably doesn't work on the page anyway. It's a tough emotional arc to buy and to contrast it in against the comedy could be considered brilliant, though I favour the 'no-quite-right' camp.
Glorious fun, hugely entertaining. This is the film that has inspired me to read the text again, and book a holiday with friends in a house like this. However, pulling off the same amount of drinking (a prerequisite for any character in any scene appears to be to have a drink in hand) might be a challenge too far.
Learning in the classroom. Adeo, shooting day one.
NZ International Film Festival - Part Two
The Human Scale
Fascinating documentary about cities and the people that live in them. Pitched unashamedly at a very left-level, the basic premise or argument was around the idea that cities should not be built for cars, they should be built for people. It visited New York, Copenhagen, Melbourne, Dhaka and eventually arrived at Christchurch. I was absolutely enthralled in some of the discussions. The difference between living in a city that invites you into its space and one that is designed to move people to their destinations is now very clear to me. Copenhagen is definitely on my list of must-visit cities now and I've a new appreciation for the back alleys of Melbourne and even little old Cuba Mall. Thought provoking and really interesting. Also a great reminder of how beautiful cities can be - the cinematography was just sensational.
Mud
Coming of age story, that had several moments that soared above the limitations of its genre (even though the ending well and truly returned to the comfortable tropes at an ebb that was a bit disappointing). Matthew McConaughey was absolutely stunning, playing a criminal with a complex past, who befriends two young teenagers in order to help escape with his long-time love played by Reese Witherspoon. The kids in teh film were sensational as well. Particularly the home scenes with Ellis rang very authentic. His parents were in the process of separating, but instead of taking sides the film showed how with the unit of the parents breaking down, Ellis became estranged from both as everybody searched for connections. The finale had some sour notes that would have been more comfortable in a film of much lesser quality. However, they don't ruin the overall impact of the story and the magical setting of Arkansas.
Blackfish
The film captured my attention with director Gabiela Cowperthwaite's quote: "No one has ever been killed by an orca in the wild. Only in captivity. That's a fact." This fascinating statistic already had me asking how Seaworld had got away with their set up for so long, but through watching the film it's even more difficult to fathom. Numerous violent attacks by orcas on their trainers are covered through the duration of the film accompanied with surprisingly raw footage that really captures the horror of the situations. The attacks sometimes appear to erupt from nowhere but the documentary's portrait of the context of the captured orcas and their living conditions at Seaworld paint a disturbing picture. With recent rulings from OSHA, it appears a clampdown on the activity that lead to the numerous deaths and injuries is in process, but with SeaWorld appealing and the orcas still being kept in a bathtub there is much much much further to go.
NZIFF - Valentine Road
On February 12th 2008, in Oxnard California, a 14 year-old student Brandon brought a school to gun and shot his classmate Larry from point blank range in the back of his head while we was working on a computer in class. The day before Larry, who had a crush on Brandon, had asked him to be his Valentine in front of his friends embarrassing him. In the weeks leading up to the incident, Larry had begun to wearing makeup and accessorising, and had come out to friends.
The documentary, Valentine Road, slowly unpacks the incident through interviews with the community. There are endless perspectives here, from Larry’s friends at school - including Marina, a classmate who came out to her Mum when she was picked up after the shooting; the defense lawyers, who were so moved by the case that they decided to represent Brandon pro bono; the foster parents who used to look after Larry; including the Jurors who joined the ‘Save Brandon’ cause after the trial was declared a mistrial. The only voice that was really missing from the film was Larry’s.
The remarkable journey that this film took was an emotional roller coaster. The film fluctuated between taking the audience to incredibly sad places, emphasising the life that was lost. But the real sadness is the embedded homophobia that still exists in the community. Some of the perspectives are hard to listen to. There were times that I felt so much anger towards the people that were expressing their intolerance and this failure to understand that people are different which only breeds Brandon’s who believe they have no choice but to use violence.There's also the incredible joy of seeing hope through the people that had learned from this incident and learned to stand up for what is right.
Not blaming Brandon was one of the incredible feats of the film. Instead the film kept at a distance, remaining objective. It was clear at times where the film was leveling its critique: the scene in which a bunch of jurors hang out discussing the case is long, as the statements they make about the case becoming increasingly stupid, naive and upsetting. This is so topical and so relevant. It must be seen and people must talk about this. For me, the most striking thing was the dominance of the intolerance. When intolerance makes up the hegemonic viewpoint bad things happen. I hope that Oxnard over time learns to learn from this.
NZIFF - Stranger by the Lake
I found ‘Stranger by the Lake’ an odd mix. On the one hand, I loved the stillness it captured. Yet another beautiful film in the NZ film festival, some of the shots of the idyllic beach setting were breathtaking. There were times when the camera lost our protagonist, and simply explored the setting. At times this meant capturing the voyeuristic nature of the cruising context, but other times it simply panned off to take in the beauty of he surroundings.
But on the other hand, it was the strange overlay of the thriller narrative with a investigator character who must have played some symbolic role. I couldn’t understand how he worked in the world of the film. He roamed like someone who didn’t belong in Guiraudie’s realm and was more than just a stark contrast to the other characters, he was a sore thumb. The thriller element worked on the erotic level, but not on the police procedural.
It was the attraction and intrigue generated from the intense gazes across the beach that made the dynamic so fascinating. The layers of attraction were peeled away, and I found myself feeling sorry for Franck as he searched for a connection in such a wrong wrong place. The centrals couple’s second swimming scene was a worthy centrepiece: the tension in preparing for death, attempting futilely to form a bond that is mistaken for love. A sad, and entrancing tale.
NZIFF - The Bling Ring
What really got me about this film was how accurately it captured a lifestyle, or - perhaps more accurately - a desire for a lifestyle, that I see all the time in the teenagers that I teach. Celebrity fascination is not new, and what the film captures is a period of time where celebrities were not ready for a new kind of fandom; the obsessive culture that robbed them was two steps ahead. I believe what occurred could never happen again - we may be a consumerist throwaway society, we will find a new brand of celebrity, but the fan culture that finds them will discover new ways of breaking through their privacy barriers.
One of the things I admire the film for was the way that while it largely presented the 'frivolous living' of the characters, the camera found ways through this and invested in character moments that critiqued on a deeper level. Like the expression of Emma Watson (who was brilliant) in the club dancing, or the truly uncomfortable interaction between Marc and Chloe after she finds a gun in Megan Fox's house. It was the searching and slow creeping of Coppola's camera that allowed this. There was something surveillance-esque about the way that we as an audience were invited into the corner of the teenagers' rooms, or were left to observe from more distance than we are used to as the camera tracked around the characters. This was juxtaposed with some really stylistic sequences that captured the alcohol and drug culture that crept in. However, these sequences - that are so often clichéd - felt fresh and conveyed both the hype of the moment and the sadness behind their decline.
The shot of the film was the one shot robbery, where Marc and Rebecca are observed from a wide shot making there way around the house and then emerging with several goods. It marked a shift for the characters, as up until then I felt that their predominant reason for being in a celebrity's house was to be in the house. This is an episode that is solely about stealing. It's a planned event carried out in an ordered and diligent way: in and out. The sound design here was outstanding, signally to the audience the increasing tension and that the teens had ventured far beyond something frivolous. The film wasn't perfect. There were times where I wondered if the film was doing enough to justify itself given that the conclusion was foregone. I also wondered whether or not the editing scheme which mirrored the way that the teens would enter a celebrity's wardrobe and grab at things - it doesn't necessarily need to make sense what they grab at but being in the moment if what was important for these characters. Was this too much - would featuring the post-arrest interviews more dominantly have created a more robust spine for the film? Regardless, I'd recommend this film - I think it captures a culture more accurately than other films that venture into similar territory. And have I even mentioned the outstanding soundtrack?!
NZ International Film Festival - part one
The Pervert's Guide to Ideology
My first introduction to Slavoj Žižek was a pretty thought provoking affair. The press kit does a pretty thorough job at breaking down the key themes of the film. Some points that hit home was the principals of agency as unpacked by looking at the London Riots and 'West Side Story'; that Rose was never in love with Jack and was using him in 'Titanic'; singing "Climb Every Mountain" has a very sexual side to it in 'The Sound of Music'; 'Ode to Joy' does not resonate boundless joy - it has been used by various dictatorships of the past century to promote their ideologies; and through unpacking 'The Dark Knight' it appears the primary role of institutions that run society is to maintain order and suppress truth. The sections that I followed were outstanding, but I left having missed out on a lot. The structure was vague and I can't help but wonder whether I would have enjoyed the experience by taking it in via DVD in bite sized pieces.
Blancanieves
A Spanish black and white silent film where there were at least two dozen shots that I would describe as 'breathtaking'. The film was just beautiful. I've read a lot of comparison to 'The Artist', and building on that, I going to say that 'Blancanieves; is a better film. While 'The Artist' was playful, 'Blancanieves' is pure. The visual joy that is conveyed through the expressionism of the cinematography grounds the film in a much more affecting context. The world it creates of bullfighting, dwarfs, roosters and home style catalogues is really powerful and gave me the opportunity to truly emphasise with Carmen and her journey. But it's Maribel Verdu who steals the show for me. She is stunning; I'm thinking of getting a still of her from this film framed for my wall.
Behind the Candelabra
I'm so glad I got to see this film in this context. With so much talk about it being Steven Soderbergh's last film and the funding hurdles that it had to go through to get an audience, it was very high on my list. It didn't disappoint and was highly enjoyable, with lots of humour on the surface of a fairly resonating film. I sense that it didn't quite rise above the limitations of its biopic genre; however, there were spectacular sequences. The introduction to Liberace when Bob and Scott arrive late to his concert is one of the greatest. With the camera capturing the magic and complete immersion of this moment as we enter Liberace's world for the first time. Michael Douglas - wow. What an incredible performance. He must take home the Emmy at least.
Le Passé
The thing that gets me about Asghar Farhadi films is how he can take moments of such intimacy and dynamics that seem so intricate and small, and he can turn these into moments worthy of the big screen. Blockbuster filmmakers should be worried. I was absolutely astonished by 'The Past'. Once again Farhadi took a small group of characters and unpacked them in intricate character study. The remarkable ending (with some outrageously coincidental parallels with Blancanieves) captured an important moment which completed the audience's journey around a range of characters. I felt like my empathy had taken a round trip around the family as the camera took moments to study each character's loneliness and emptiness. No one really left unscathed, no one really smiled, but the journey was absolutely beautiful.
Dans La Maison
"Bizarre" was the first word out my mouth after this French film finished. But thinking back, everything was a close to perfect fit. There were some jarring stylistic decisions made for the film that really caught me off-guard, but it simply added to the uncomfortable humour of the premise. I was struck by how the wave of events that unfolded came from a situation that I often find myself in as a teacher, and while the film was removed from being preachy and moralistic about the pastoral approach of teachers, it remained interested and obsessed with privacy and the voyeurism that it suggested we all have to some extent. I felt like the audience was incriminated in some ways, because we were at the end of the day the ultimate voyeurs, and to remind us of this our protagonist took to staring straight down the camera at some key moments. The other element that truly fascinated was the deconstruction of narrative, which really appealed to the bibliophile within me. A delightful film.
Still to come:
The Bling Ring
The Human Scale
Mud
Blackfish
Valentine Road
Only Lovers Left Alive
Much Ado About Nothing
Frances Ha
A new approach to Representation
I've spent a good several hours over the last couple of days devising a new way of presenting my unit on representation of the family unit. In this topic we look at a number of sitcoms that present the idea of the American family from 'Father Knows Best' in the 1950s through to Modern Family in 2009. Looking at the representation in the shows and connecting this to the society that it reflects is a challenge. Students have to have a sense of curiosity and discovery in order to get their head around a time that was not our own and not make the traditional mistakes of making wild generalisations.
These problems have often ended up resulting in largely teacher directed units. I would use strict powerpoints and make my points and then lead activities that explored these points. I've really become distanced from this form of teaching and as a result I've devised a unit that removes me from the front of the class and emphasises critical curiosity and student choice.
For each week of the unit I have devised a table with three columns. Each columns has up to four activities. This is the table for week one:
Teacher/Class Time:
a) Class brainstorms - the family unit is represented in... the family unit is represented as...
b) Viewing: Father Knows Best, S01E10, ‘Typical Father’
c) Class Discussion of hypodermic needle theory and “Idealised family that viewers could relate to and wish to emulate.”
d) Viewing: ‘The Evolution of Family Structure and Values through Television’
Select-Directed Tasks:
a) Research: what is the stereotypical family image? Where does this stereotype come from? Who decides what it is?
b) Read p. 58 of the blue book (Media Studies: Achievement Standards L2)
c) Read and Learn important terms and concepts from the definition google doc.
d) Answer Questions on Father Knows Best and the Evolution video
e) Read ‘A brief history of moral panics’ pp. 287-9 in Senior Media
Extension Opportunities:
a) Production Information from imdb on S01E10, ‘Typical Father’
b) Research: Look into 1950s American society. Find academic writing about the status of the American Dream, and American families.
c) Read the rest of the representation chapter in the blue book (pp. 55-71)
d) Viewing: Another episode of Father Knows Best, e.g. ‘Grandpa Retires’
The idea is that during the week I will run the Teacher Time when appropriate, and the rest of the time the students will complete tasks from the other columns. These tasks range from researching a question or concept, reading a particular reading, answering questions in a google doc, or viewing related material on their devices.
My challenge is now to sell this a get a strong buy in from the class. I'm convinced that this can produce better learning outcomes, (perhaps not results, but you never know) and it heightens so many skills that I value and the curriculum values. Tracking progress is a major concern, and I'm going to look at ways of doing this successfully.