Respect Your Elders, Or Face Being Trapped in XCU

“In observational cinema, truth, no matter how obvious, can indeed be beauty.” This point, made by Barry Grant in his article “Man With a Movie Camera” in Voyages of Discovery, attempts to illustrate why Frederick Wisemen’s films, although lacking in conventional film vocabulary, can still be seen as works of art. It is true that in High school and Basic Training that Wiseman has, in his camerawork as well as in the editing room, shunned the conventions of narrative cinema embraced by other verite filmmakers such as the Drew Associates and Richard Leacock. However, I would argue that even though these films, especially High School, for the most part lack dramatic structure, clear protagonists and even (in the case of High School) a climax or resolution, as examples of observational cinema, they explore the subject visually in many of the same ways as more conventional examples of verite that remain married to narrative tenets. High School illustrates the use of cinematic technique in an observational way to discover truth. The impressions that Wiseman has shaped in this film, despite his non-invasive practices, is a shining example of observational cinema as Grant establishes it-- “the Observant filmmaker, perceiving not with the naked eye but with the kino eye, must enter what Rouch calls a ‘cine trance’ and discover meaning as embodied in the surface of things.”

The pairing of High School and Basic training for this week’s screening seemed an interesting progression, although the order of the screenings was particularly pertinent in shaping my concept of Wiseman as a film maker and making what I first perceived as the jumble of images in High School to be more coherent. These are rather mundane goings on at what could be assumed to be a typical public high school in the late sixties. Students ready themselves for prom, face disciplinary action, and receive sex education. Yet it is the editorial decisions of the cameraman and editor that present the film’s thesis, as no clear narrative progression can be delineated. Characters do not emerge as focal points and hardly reoccur (with the exception of Rona, the failing student who has apparently secured a full scholarship to college even though she does not want to attend.) Even in the case of Rona, she is not an actual character but merely a topic of discussion until nearly the end of the film. While Wiseman’s “characters” seem, in what can be considered customary adolescent fashion, to be fighting for their individuality, he does not allow them this privilege. As the camera moves from one subject to the next with fairly rapid pacing, the viewer is almost disallowed from emotionally connecting with any of the students. The administration of the high school seems to be pushing the same agenda, as is illustrated with the discussion between the home economics teacher and the girl who has made, in the administrative opinion, an inappropriately short prom dress that does not conform to the school’s notions of proper attire. This is her moment, in the film of differentiating herself from the other members of the student body. However, the camera spends significantly more time on the faces of those teachers chastising her, and only casts a fleeting glance in her direction. She is almost disallowed from presenting herself as an individual as she attempts to stand up for her individuality as expressed through dress.

In a conventional narrative film, or even a more narratively based documentary, the use of close ups is traditionally conceived of as inviting the audience into the character’s psyche. But in a film such as High School, Wiseman almost over utilizes the close up, bringing the camera in so tight on the subject as to render him into individual features or disembodied parts. One cannot empathize with a wagging finger or a pair of quivering lips, so rather than support the boy who has stood up for himself rather than respect the wrongful accusation of his teacher, we see him disassembled into glasses and nose, sliding in and out of focus. Additionally, Wiseman’s decision to not construct High School within a narrative form, creating characters and a story line, seems to present a similar statement on the necessary conformity being pushed on these students. The students are almost never shown at a “comfortable” focal length, which I would personally consider to be anywhere from medium close up to a full face close up with some headroom. They are either members of a group shown at medium shot, (such as the “deviant” who refuses to get off the telephone despite his lack of hall pass) individuals from a distance shown in long shot, or, in their moments of personal crisis, extreme close ups which serve to depersonalize the subject. Most of the adults, on the other hand, are allowed the courtesy of a comfortable focal length, in which the viewer is able to entirely absorb the subject and yet is close enough to develop some intimacy with his or her thought process.

Wiseman’s High School presents an almost biting critique through its disembodiment of the student subjects to the condition of the lack of individuality in the public high school during the Vietnam War. While traditionally an American high school would be conceived of as a breeding ground for mature thinking and individually successful citizens, the conformity necessary to maintain order is illustrated through the depersonalization of the students in their presentation on screen. Fredrick Wiseman’s use of camera and intentional diversion from narrative convention to present these seemingly disconnected moments demonstrates the power of observational cinema to editorially present an unspoken truth about this sub-sect of society.