The stylistic practices that the Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953) undertakes have been the reason why this film has remained a film studies favourite. I was particularly interested in the temporality of the film. The film was very serene in its approach to depict the universal concerns that we all face in life when it comes to relationships with our family.
The de-emphasis on plotline could be argued as a way of drawing the audience away from results but towards process. Ozu’s idiosyncratic style of relying on insinuation to progress with his story is demonstrated by the exclusion of events within the film’s narrative. The narrative ellipses left out critical events in the characters’ lives but in doing so they remained effectively insightful. Thus the ellipses dictated the pace of the film which, as it turned out, to be quite slow. But rightly so as it allowed for character development and a plot that unravelled at a pace that allows you to be immersed in the atmosphere of the film. This level of restraint in the film’s narrative that Ozu implements allows for an almost ‘special effect’ when the peak of the film arrives. We see this in Noriko’s breakdown towards the end of the film demonstrating the true acting ability of Setsuko Hara which was otherwise quite bland and wooden before this moment in the film.
The slowness of pace was also a testament to a different way of representing modernity; this transcended also to what was on screen. The film displayed a very calming and tranquil feel about the atmosphere. The imagery in the first few scenes where there are shots of various elements of the city including trains, a clothes line, automobiles and so on were visually composed to create sense of tranquillity. Ozu was very much patient with his imagery and was devoid of the need to hectically edit. In terms of narrative, there is an almost circular feel about the film’s temporality. In the beginning before the grandparents leave, their neighbour says “Your children will be looking forward to your arrival”, in the end however, the grandmother dies. As a result we have come full circle; life is a resolved and there is a sense of completed feeling.
Ozu’s use of the narrative ellipses reminded me a lot of the recent film Atonement (2007) directed by Joe Wright. Similar to Tokyo Story, the film involves the relationships wrought by time and the inevitability of separation and loss. Atonement characterised the same temporal attributes Ozu executed in Tokyo Story in that it was slow-paced and imbued with omitted critical events. The film is divided into the three different periods of time that span throughout the characters’ lives. In between these periods of time, critical events occur and are not included in the film. I felt that the slow momentum of the film was really effective in building the narrative. Again, we see the emphasis of the process over outcome.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Questions of Gender in Vidor's 'The Fountainhead' (1949)
Rand’s The Fountainhead (1949) delve into themes of ideology and gender. Rand introduced the philosophy of objectivism whereby every man must live for himself and the individual is supreme and selfishness is a virtue. This philosophy seems to cross over to her portrayal of gender in the film. Also, what I found most intriguing about the film was the representation of sexuality through the metaphorical use of architecture.
The film creates a strong sense of masculinity. We see this through the film’s protagonist, Howard Roark, a man who strives for individuality, never wanting to compromise his creative integrity and vision in life. Roark’s strong-willed and inherent virility renders him the epitome of masculinity. For Rand, Roark represents the ideal of her objectivist philosophy; he symbolises the attributes of selfishness and self-righteousness that all people should emulate and admire.
The inclusion of skyscrapers combined with Roark’s character were symbols of her most revered principles of superiority of reason and rationality over emotion. Rand’s fascination with skyscrapers alluded to American achievement; it symbolised the society and culture that constructed and sustained such a building type. Roark’s towering stature is a visual symbol of m asculinity and his ego as are the skyscrapers he designs and builds. This is depicted in the film where the camera zooms in of what appears to be a life-size skyscraper but is then revealed to be a miniature version model next to which Roark stands as the camera pans out.
Moreover, the only female character, Dominique Francon, in the film is herself masculine. She characterises a woman who is only capable of self-dominance and destructive acts – all traits that are masculine. Her wardrobe changes throughout the film are a testament to this as well. From the beginning we see her dressed in a glamorous negligee to wearing masculinised attire including riding pants as well as wielding a crop. Rand labelled her a masochist and it seemed this is what drove her affair with Roark. In Dominique’s eyes, Roark was the only man that could ever match her standards. He was a man of power and self-dominance. Dominique becomes irrevocably in love with Roark as a result of the masochistic nature of their relationship, where to sustain their relationship, they must draw away from eachother.
Perhaps what I found to be profound was the philosophical ideas the film manifested. The idea of living a life by the judgement of one’s own mind is a philosophy that I try to live by. Although this philosophy is and has been proven to be quite controversial in that it contravenes attitudes towards moral institutions like religion and governmental organisations, I stand from a bi-partisan viewpoint. Whilst the philosophy of objectivism promotes personal freedom and individual thinking, it goes against the views of humanist philosophy whereby morality calls for people to sacrifice themselves for others.
The film creates a strong sense of masculinity. We see this through the film’s protagonist, Howard Roark, a man who strives for individuality, never wanting to compromise his creative integrity and vision in life. Roark’s strong-willed and inherent virility renders him the epitome of masculinity. For Rand, Roark represents the ideal of her objectivist philosophy; he symbolises the attributes of selfishness and self-righteousness that all people should emulate and admire.
The inclusion of skyscrapers combined with Roark’s character were symbols of her most revered principles of superiority of reason and rationality over emotion. Rand’s fascination with skyscrapers alluded to American achievement; it symbolised the society and culture that constructed and sustained such a building type. Roark’s towering stature is a visual symbol of m asculinity and his ego as are the skyscrapers he designs and builds. This is depicted in the film where the camera zooms in of what appears to be a life-size skyscraper but is then revealed to be a miniature version model next to which Roark stands as the camera pans out.
Moreover, the only female character, Dominique Francon, in the film is herself masculine. She characterises a woman who is only capable of self-dominance and destructive acts – all traits that are masculine. Her wardrobe changes throughout the film are a testament to this as well. From the beginning we see her dressed in a glamorous negligee to wearing masculinised attire including riding pants as well as wielding a crop. Rand labelled her a masochist and it seemed this is what drove her affair with Roark. In Dominique’s eyes, Roark was the only man that could ever match her standards. He was a man of power and self-dominance. Dominique becomes irrevocably in love with Roark as a result of the masochistic nature of their relationship, where to sustain their relationship, they must draw away from eachother.
Perhaps what I found to be profound was the philosophical ideas the film manifested. The idea of living a life by the judgement of one’s own mind is a philosophy that I try to live by. Although this philosophy is and has been proven to be quite controversial in that it contravenes attitudes towards moral institutions like religion and governmental organisations, I stand from a bi-partisan viewpoint. Whilst the philosophy of objectivism promotes personal freedom and individual thinking, it goes against the views of humanist philosophy whereby morality calls for people to sacrifice themselves for others.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Le Sang D’un Poète by Jean Cocteau
In Burgin’s article titled ‘The Remembered Film’, the concept of a cinematic heterotopia is proposed. Foucault’s idea of a heterotopic space is the place of otherness; a place that is both mental and physical. There is also a mentioning of inner speech; a sort of language we speak in our minds. Thoughts we have in our minds are like words which are then produced into images. These ideas are invariably linked to the aesthetic appeal of Cocteau’s film Le Sang D’un Poète (1930).
The film’s purpose is to illustrate the blood or pain of a poet which is done so through visual imagery. Like any poem, an arrangement of abstract ideas in structured phrases, the film successfully manifests this through its visual medium. Cocteau puts it best in the film as he describes it as “…a realistic documentary of unreal events”. Obviously not a linear narrative, Le Sang D’un Poète is non-sequential, it is a series of disjointed surrealist imagery assembled around the main theme of the blood of a poet.
The film is permeated with the juxtaposition of ‘real things’ to symbolic imagery. We see statues coming to life, mirrors as portals to other spaces and so on. The first scene depicts a poet painting on a translucent canvas that symbolizes a screen; a cinematic screen onto which the poet draws a picture of himself, inviting the audience into his mind. Following on from the idea of heterotopia, we as an audience disconnect from the real world inhabiting a space behind the screen – we get lost within whatever is shown on the screen. Cocteau himself described his film as "a descent into oneself, a way of using the mechanism of the dream without sleeping, a crooked candle, often mysteriously blown out, carried about in the night of the human body” (http://www.netcomuk.co.uk/~lenin/jean_cocteau_boap.html).
My experience watching the film, Le Sang D’un Poète by Cocteau, was like watching visual poetry. Like any avante-garde film, the film deviates from traditional film making. I’m normally not a fan of avant-garde film, primarily because of the fact that I struggle to make any sense of it. However, after watching this film I discovered that in order to get the most out of it was to respond to it as a collection images and not as a conventional narrative. Similar to viewing a collage, we look at the images as an assemblage of images that constitute a new whole. As in the film, each scene stands on its own independently of the others that constitute the film’s purpose.
Dubbed the forerunner of experimental film, Cocteau’s film reminded me a lot of the independent, art house films that are in circulation today. A film like Donnie Darko (2001) comes to mind which that had me befuddled throughout the whole movie but despite its unusualness, it generated quite a large cult following. Upon retrospect, it’s no wonder Le Sang D’un Poete paved the way for independent films of today.
The film’s purpose is to illustrate the blood or pain of a poet which is done so through visual imagery. Like any poem, an arrangement of abstract ideas in structured phrases, the film successfully manifests this through its visual medium. Cocteau puts it best in the film as he describes it as “…a realistic documentary of unreal events”. Obviously not a linear narrative, Le Sang D’un Poète is non-sequential, it is a series of disjointed surrealist imagery assembled around the main theme of the blood of a poet.
The film is permeated with the juxtaposition of ‘real things’ to symbolic imagery. We see statues coming to life, mirrors as portals to other spaces and so on. The first scene depicts a poet painting on a translucent canvas that symbolizes a screen; a cinematic screen onto which the poet draws a picture of himself, inviting the audience into his mind. Following on from the idea of heterotopia, we as an audience disconnect from the real world inhabiting a space behind the screen – we get lost within whatever is shown on the screen. Cocteau himself described his film as "a descent into oneself, a way of using the mechanism of the dream without sleeping, a crooked candle, often mysteriously blown out, carried about in the night of the human body” (http://www.netcomuk.co.uk/~lenin/jean_cocteau_boap.html).
My experience watching the film, Le Sang D’un Poète by Cocteau, was like watching visual poetry. Like any avante-garde film, the film deviates from traditional film making. I’m normally not a fan of avant-garde film, primarily because of the fact that I struggle to make any sense of it. However, after watching this film I discovered that in order to get the most out of it was to respond to it as a collection images and not as a conventional narrative. Similar to viewing a collage, we look at the images as an assemblage of images that constitute a new whole. As in the film, each scene stands on its own independently of the others that constitute the film’s purpose.
Dubbed the forerunner of experimental film, Cocteau’s film reminded me a lot of the independent, art house films that are in circulation today. A film like Donnie Darko (2001) comes to mind which that had me befuddled throughout the whole movie but despite its unusualness, it generated quite a large cult following. Upon retrospect, it’s no wonder Le Sang D’un Poete paved the way for independent films of today.
Piccadilly by Ewald André Dupont
Like most people who have seen the silent film noir Piccadilly (1929), the one thing that stands out is Anna May Wong. Unlike stereotypical portrayals of Asian characters in Hollywood, Wong holds her own as a seductive femme fatale in this tale of an unseeming love triangle. Wong clearly steals the show with her naturalistic style of acting and her presence on screen that was both captivating and enchanting. I would like to make a point on Wong’s representation in the film that antithesises her with the stereotypical Asian role.
In Cynthia W. Liu’s article ‘When Dragon Ladies Die, Do They Come Back as Butterflies? Re-Imagining Anna May Wong’, she comments on the stereotypes characterized by Asian women. According to Liu, the “butterfly” or “lotus blossom” stereotype personifies “naïveté and self-abnegation”; a description that generalizes Asian women as submissive and nonresistant. However, Wong depicted a character that was nothing of the sort.
A noteworthy aspect of the film is Shosho’s transformation as the beautiful and mysterious scullery maid to the show-stopping vixen main attraction of the club and the film’s male lead. Upon Shosho’s first meeting with Valentine Wilmot, we see a shyness and apprehensiveness to her; the camera focuses on her face, her eyes looking down. But there is also a passive sensuality and suggestiveness hidden underneath her timid exterior waiting to come out illustrated by an innocent concealed kiss with Jim to the overt displays of seduction with Valentine Wilmot. Here we see a complete transition of a shy girl into a strong sexually confident woman.
The film from my perspective was not just another film that only perpetuated the gross stereotypes of Asians in an era of heavy racial intolerance, in fact, quite the opposite. The film glorifies Wong’s character’s ‘Asianness’, drawing away from stereotypes and misconceptions and, as such, capitalizing on the ways in which she is perceived by the Western world – her infamous dance scene which subsequently gave her new found fame is a testament to that. From the sparkly Cambodian-inspired outfit she wears to the soft blurriness of the background, Wong simply shines – the scene was almost dreamlike as if depicting a mythical being.
The way women are portrayed in the film demonstrates that they emanate a certain dominance and authoritativeness. Both Shosho and Mabel utilize their sexual appeal to their advantage. Valentine Wilmot becomes entranced by Shosho exemplified by her successful, yet natural efforts of seducing him and it is hard not to understand why due to Wong’s sensual aura that translates on to film so well. The dominance of women in the film gives rise to the emasculation of men. Both Jim and Valentine fall victim to Shosho’s charm and sexual appeal rendering them subordinate to her authority. Shosho’s quiet authority induces a contract at the club and the affections of Valentine and the stringing-along of Jim who is madly in love with her; something to which she pays no attention. The impact of her authority, however, causes havoc in the end as Valentine loses his star attraction as a result of his love affair with her and the building up of jealousy that leads Jim to kill Shosho. Just like any femme fatale, “In classic film noir, the sexes do not complement eachother; instead, sexual attraction ignites a destructive combustion” (Kaplan, Women in Film Noir, 1978).
In Cynthia W. Liu’s article ‘When Dragon Ladies Die, Do They Come Back as Butterflies? Re-Imagining Anna May Wong’, she comments on the stereotypes characterized by Asian women. According to Liu, the “butterfly” or “lotus blossom” stereotype personifies “naïveté and self-abnegation”; a description that generalizes Asian women as submissive and nonresistant. However, Wong depicted a character that was nothing of the sort.
A noteworthy aspect of the film is Shosho’s transformation as the beautiful and mysterious scullery maid to the show-stopping vixen main attraction of the club and the film’s male lead. Upon Shosho’s first meeting with Valentine Wilmot, we see a shyness and apprehensiveness to her; the camera focuses on her face, her eyes looking down. But there is also a passive sensuality and suggestiveness hidden underneath her timid exterior waiting to come out illustrated by an innocent concealed kiss with Jim to the overt displays of seduction with Valentine Wilmot. Here we see a complete transition of a shy girl into a strong sexually confident woman.
The film from my perspective was not just another film that only perpetuated the gross stereotypes of Asians in an era of heavy racial intolerance, in fact, quite the opposite. The film glorifies Wong’s character’s ‘Asianness’, drawing away from stereotypes and misconceptions and, as such, capitalizing on the ways in which she is perceived by the Western world – her infamous dance scene which subsequently gave her new found fame is a testament to that. From the sparkly Cambodian-inspired outfit she wears to the soft blurriness of the background, Wong simply shines – the scene was almost dreamlike as if depicting a mythical being.
The way women are portrayed in the film demonstrates that they emanate a certain dominance and authoritativeness. Both Shosho and Mabel utilize their sexual appeal to their advantage. Valentine Wilmot becomes entranced by Shosho exemplified by her successful, yet natural efforts of seducing him and it is hard not to understand why due to Wong’s sensual aura that translates on to film so well. The dominance of women in the film gives rise to the emasculation of men. Both Jim and Valentine fall victim to Shosho’s charm and sexual appeal rendering them subordinate to her authority. Shosho’s quiet authority induces a contract at the club and the affections of Valentine and the stringing-along of Jim who is madly in love with her; something to which she pays no attention. The impact of her authority, however, causes havoc in the end as Valentine loses his star attraction as a result of his love affair with her and the building up of jealousy that leads Jim to kill Shosho. Just like any femme fatale, “In classic film noir, the sexes do not complement eachother; instead, sexual attraction ignites a destructive combustion” (Kaplan, Women in Film Noir, 1978).
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