Written & Directed by Joel & Ethan Coen, 1996
Starring: Frances McDormand, William H. Macy, Steve Buscemi, Peter Stormare
Cinematography: Roger Deakins
Art Direction: Thomas P. Wilkins
Written & Directed by Spike Lee, 1989
Starring: Spike Lee, Rosie Perez, Joie Lee, Giancarlo Esposito, Danny Aiello, Ossie Davis, Ruby Dee
Cinematography: Ernest Dickerson
Art Direction: Spike Lee
Alain Giuraudie's L'inconnu du Lac (Stranger by the Lake) is essentially a film about looking relations. Set on a gay nude beach in the South of France, the environ is intended as one of exhibition and voyeurism - for men to witness other men in nature and au naturel - cruising in the woods, splayed on the beach, and in constant pursuit of sexual contact.
Giuraudie frames each day of the 10-day holiday with a series of wide and panning establishing shots of the setting, usually depicting nude men from a distance, viewed as we would see them from behind some trees or from a far stretch of sand. We are immediately engaged as distant viewers, though only as distant as the other men on the beach are from each other. Surrounded by strangers, we can barely make out distinct facial features much of the time, emphasizing our relative isolation.
When our protagonist, Franck, witnesses the irresistible Michel drowning his ex-lover in the lake, and then proceeds to become more intimately and sexually engaged with him still, sex drive begins to feel more like death drive as Franck propels himself toward impending doom.
The entire episode is contained within one ruthlessly long take that follows Franck's view from the woods. We follow the action from Michel and his lover splashing in the water, Michel drowning him and swimming back to shore, taking a moment of pause to survey the scene, drying off and dressing, and walking back to his car to flee the scene.
Looking Relations in La ley del deseo [Law of Desire] (1987)
The opening sequence of Pedro Almodóvar's La ley del deseo [Law of Desire] (1987) presents the viewer with an unconventional assertion of the gaze. Though the possessor of the gaze remains a European male--as a matter of fact, a film director and a screenwriter--it is directed not at the traditional blonde beauty unhooking her bra or lying unconscious in bed; rather, we watch as a young Spanish man undresses and masturbates to orgasm.
The scene is one from--brace yourself--a film within a film within the film. The boy is being directed by a male voice from off camera, who begins by asking him to sit on the bed and undress. He is told repeatedly throughout the scene, "No me miras" (Don't look at me), by the voice.
He is then directed to walk over to a mirror, now wearing only white briefs, and rub his bulge on it while kissing his own reflection.
Only after this, when he is directed to return to the bed and lie down, do we see that there are in fact two men watching him from off camera, presumably a film director and a screenwriter, both Spanish and much older than the man on camera. Each time the actor looks back at the camera to meet its gaze, he is abruptly chided by one of the men to look away.
The young man is instructed to run his hands along his lithe torso, then rub his genitals, then take off his underwear and turn onto his stomach and fondle his ass and inner thighs.
As the camera continues to alternate between the boy on the bed and the men directing him, they continue to become visibly more and more aroused as their actor becomes more invested in his scene. They bark at him to repeat his only line, almost a mantra: fóllame (fuck me). After a few moments of furious masturbation and gyrating on the bed, the young man climaxes and collapses onto his stomach, satisfied. One of the men walks over to him to praise his performance, and drops a wad of cash on the bedside table.
Immediately after, we find out that this whole scene is actually from the latest film directed by fictitious gay film director Pablo Quintero, the protagonist of Almódovar's story. The multiple layers of direction and viewership effectively problematize what we have just seen--what first appears to be merely a provocative cold opening for Almódovar's film turns out to be a kind of subversion. Not only does Almódovar begin by acknowledging the equally hegemonic gaze of the white gay male (his own), it is being acknowledged by Quintero within his own film. The sequence acts almost as a statement of intent by Almódovar, saying, "Yes, this is a film by a gay director, but one who knows all of the implications that arise from the power play between director/looker and subject/the 'looked-at.'" The men in charge of the film within Quintero's film are practically foaming at the mouth; sweating and with jaws agape, they repeatedly scold their subject for looking back at them so as to acknowledge their presence and ruin the voyeuristic illusion of privacy. If Almódovar's Quintero is noble enough to show this relationship in his film, then we are led to believe (perhaps falsely) that Almódovar himself understands the lunacy of a profession that normalizes unabashed voyeurism as readily as film direction.
The opening sequence is far from the last scene of gay sex or subjectivity in La ley, proving that Almódovar is not above the exploitation of young sexy bodies as a visual device. Where his method departs is from the canonical objectification of the female figure, supplanted in every instance in this film with that of a European man (Eusebio Poncela, Antonio Banderas, Miguel Molina, Juan A. Granja, the list continues). Further evidence of gender subversion presents in his characters Tina (the transsexual sister of Pablo, played by a woman), and Ada's mother, played by transsexual actress Bibí Andersen. The fact that the film was released in 1987 makes Almódovar's choices even more shocking and impressive.
It is unsurprising, then, that Almódovar began to garner more critical and commercial success when he cut back on the gay sex and enhanced the melodrama. Some of his later films also address homosexual and trans* themes (especially La mala educación of 2004), but none can be credited with such a successful upheaval of the straight male gaze as La ley.
From top to bottom: Psycho (1960), Brat [Brother] (1997), Vertigo (1958), Tampopo (1985), Dong [The Hole] (1998), Les Amour Imaginaires [Heartbeats] (2010)
Film Surrealism & Dream Sequence: The Red Shoes (1948)
The Red Shoes (1948), dirs. Emeric Pressburger, Michael Powell
Pressburger & Powell's The Red Shoes utilizes highly stylized and surrealist directorial techniques for their performative sequences of choreographed ballet. Theatrical set becomes a cinematic device for interrupting the traditional spatial narrative of the film.
Notes & quotes on The Red Shoes
"She's a great patron of the arts"
"To me, dance is religion."
Excerpts from actual historic ballets performed, including: Giselle, Coppelia, Boutique Fantasque, Petrouchka, Carnaval, Swan Lake
Ballet as a platform for new visual techniques, dream sequence
Some of us think it's a rather second rate means of expression."
"We seem to be destined to meet at railway stations."
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