Caitlin Mae Verite

nine to five

2011-11-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

nora and jason on the way to work

god of small things

2011-11-12T18:17:00.000-08:00

One Smart Indian

2011-06-17T11:42:00.001-07:00

Short film storming the block!
Sarasota Film Festival, Maryland Film Festival, and now BAMcinemaFest!!!

http://www.imdb.com/rg/s/1/video/wab/vi2426707225/

Directed and Edited by Craig Butta
Photographed by Bernie DeChant
Produced by Caitlin Mae Burke
Sound by Mike Wiley

Gainfully Unemployed

2011-06-17T11:37:00.000-07:00

Sitcom trailer for NY Television Festival! A true labor of love finally got borned.

Written, Directed and Executive Produced by Carly Usdin and Arielle Baer
Produced by Caitlin Mae Burke
Co-Produced/Still Photography by Robin Roemer
Photographed by Ana Veselic
Sound by Courtney Powell
Edited by Carly Usdin

Her Beauteous Gaze

2011-06-17T11:34:00.000-07:00

Her Beauteous Gaze

University of Portsmouth Thesis Film

Directed, Photographed and Edited by Kevin Bradshaw
Produced and additional photography by Caitlin Mae Burke

featuring Meg Clark

coney island babies

2011-06-09T12:30:00.000-07:00

goodbye my coney island baby
farewell my own true love
i'm gonna go away and leave you
never to see you any more...

fourth summer of adulthood || coney island

inside outside USA

2011-03-20T20:16:00.001-07:00

leah aviva rubin-cadrain, carroll gardens, bK, march 2011

island of pinks and blues

2011-03-20T20:13:00.000-07:00

bahamas, december 2010

reality break

2010-12-07T14:13:00.000-08:00

bahamas international film festival, nassau, bahamas, dec 2010

hello old friends

2010-12-07T13:59:00.000-08:00

pcfe film school reunion, prague, august 2010

100th post- and Lychee Thieves on Hawaiian TV

2010-11-17T14:31:00.000-08:00

Make animated gif

This is my 100th post on CMae-Verite. We've come a long way, baby, from a journalling site for Jamie Meltzer's Cinema Verite class at Vassar to... a totally less formal, less frequently updated chronicle of my film and photography experience.

but rather than wax nostalgic, here's my latest minor accomplishment-
I produced the interview for this segment of Hawaii Reel TV. Lychee Thieves, the sister film to Walk the Fish, is getting accolades around the country (27 festivals and counting!) So here's to keeping the Tompkins Sq. Park loonies out of the frame, for the most part.

in which i establish myself as a television producer.

2010-10-04T14:50:00.000-07:00

yup. i made this. something that i wrote and directed and produced and slaved over despite all the odds and tragedies that popped up unexpectedly is going on television this evening (at 10 pm!) It's baby's first actual contribution, first grown up impressive credit.
it's recreality, but i'm still proud that something I made can be digested by the masses tonight.

molly and matt will move to maine

2010-08-05T12:23:00.000-07:00

goodbye dears, i'll miss you.

2010-07-30T10:49:00.001-07:00

boss with the sauce- shake it up!

Bunbun

2010-07-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

French girls watch the dance parade in late may on st. mark's place

which versary? any- versary. another photoblog.

2010-06-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

clyde and i dated for a year. i spent a lot of time in this car.

we went to the botanical gardens in brooklyn right before they closed.

appropriately enough, there were some lovely flowers there.

my date was handsome.

this mallard was our tour guide.

everything is small | it is summer.

mini getaway- a photoblog.

2010-06-08T13:16:00.000-07:00

ryan and i took the bus down the shore on a monday afternoon

we'd never been to atlantic city before.

we got to sleep in fancy beds.

this gentleman played putt putt.

this gentleman ate lunch

and then we went back to the city, a little poorer.

dance parade

2010-06-06T15:58:00.000-07:00

stalked this chick through about three blocks of dance parade, found her again on 9th st

SCHILLING FOR THE WONDERFRIENDS- or, movies you should see soon!

2010-04-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

Were you thinking of going to the movies NEXT weekend? I sure was, because there are THREE GREAT MOVIES out that you definitely need to see! In the current film market, independent films rarely have the opportunity to see theatrical release, and for those that do make it into a theater, the length of their run may be determined by opening weekend returns. Please, if you're thinking of going out to the movies this month, or this summer, consider going next weekend to one of these excellent films:

BEETLE QUEEN CONQUERS TOKYO

film forum- Weds, May 12- Tues, May 18

Working backwards through history, Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyo explores the mystery of the development of Japan’s love affair with bugs. Using insects like an anthropologist’s toolkit, the film uncovers Japanese philosophies that will shift Westerners’ perspectives on nature, beauty, life, and even the seemingly mundane realities of their day-to-day routines.

(disclosure: Jessica Oreck is who I want to be when I grow up, and the nicest gal around.)
(I will be at the 8:20 show of this on Weds and Thurs.)

Daddy Longlegs
IFC Center, Fri May 14- Thurs May 20

Loose-limbed and affectionate, DADDY LONGLEGS paints a clear-eyed portrait of a man torn between excuses and responsibilities and of the children who idolize him. A loving but hopelessly immature father, Lenny (filmmaker Ronald Bronstein of Frownland) gets custody of his sons for two weeks a year. Juggling work as a projectionist and the demands of girlfriends with taking care of two young children, Lenny turns a life of improvised meals and unpredictable days into an adventure for his kids, where lawlessness rules and anything can happen.

(disclosure: the marvelous and absurdly talented, dedicated Katie Hickman, my Vassar Film partner in crime, worked on this movie! Also, Josh and Benny Safdie are very decent guys and two you should be watching for the future of film)

Holy Rollers

Sneak preview at Rooftop Films May 15th, Opening May 21st at Landmark Sunshine and AMC Loews 84th Street

HOLY ROLLERS is a character-driven drama inspired by true events from the late nineties when young men from Brooklyn Hasidic communities were caught internationally trafficking ecstasy from Europe into the United States. Jesse Eisenberg plays Sam Gold, a young Hasidic man seduced by the money, power and misplaced sense of opportunity presented to him by Yosef (Justin Bartha), a young man in his community who is already mixed up in the complicated and dangerous world led by an Israeli drug dealer.

(disclosure: Eli Gelb, a darling, wildly skilled actor who was also my hallmate, appears in this film)

Old Fashioned Theatrical Film Distribution

2010-04-12T13:51:00.001-07:00

Please help my friend Jessica open her documentary on silver screens across the country. For just $3! (and you get a delicious gummy bug for your troubles.)

my first stop motion (with m clark!)

2010-03-31T12:47:00.001-07:00

An Afternoon in March: A Comedy of Manners from M Clark on Vimeo.

what to do on a rainy tuesday?

experiment with clay!

edited and everything elsed by me & mclark

hello old friend

2010-03-22T17:49:00.000-07:00

erin mintz | dc | jan 2010

endless babies on the screen

2010-03-04T09:53:00.000-08:00

taking my first day off since my birthday (17 days of work: 6 shoot days + 4 travel days + 5 days of work the first week and 2 in between.) But in mystery land, the small moments are still lovely.

(PS- this is my greatest production achievement- I made that helicopter happen, and for free! Asking nicely goes a long, long way, apparently.)

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

2010-02-25T16:03:00.000-08:00

I decided to make a feature last night. And, being both slow and organized, I outlined a five year plan for it.

Put aside $5,000 of your own money every 6 months for five years.- live more frugally to make this work.

Write the script in a year. take another year to revise it, stage readings, perfect feature arc.

Get the cast and the crew over 6 months of preproduction and shoot it in three months (okay, I guess more than three months, if there's time and there's money.) One year of 6 months pre production and 6 months shooting.

Edit in another year, have your friends write your music over that year.

Color and sound when more money comes in- 3 months or less.

Festivals and shit.

Wild success. Allegedly.

Applause.
Iris out.

Now all I need is a plot and we're good to go. Clyde's going to hold me to this- so if I don't have a feature by the time I'm thirty, there will apparently be CONSEQUENCES.

TWO NIGHTS ONLY- Walk the Fish and Lychee Thieves Double Feature!

2010-02-17T15:08:00.000-08:00

cathode ray tube teevee tattoo

2010-02-01T14:30:00.001-08:00

cathode ray tube teevee tattoo
Originally uploaded by caitlinmae

look ma, mine forever!
kmoloney.net

ThisDistance

2010-01-29T21:30:00.001-08:00

ThisDistance
Originally uploaded by 9 0 0 0

spirit animals activate!

high school

2010-01-01T15:18:00.001-08:00

Decided to back up photos from HS on flickr. Check that shiz out
here!

2009-12-21T06:28:00.000-08:00

see this as a placeholder:

-news-
i have work in 2010 (yay) and advancement (tentative yay, nailbiting, etc.)

i went to a party with the red bucket films crowd and ladies at jessica oreck's house, (a veritable wunderkammer- photographic evidence here) who may be my new fantastic obsession of 2009. she's the very coolest lady. i was a little starfuckery but it was cool to see these people who have attained unbelievable success in my industry in no time at all (jealous.)

clyde and i are talking about the phenomenon amongst his friends (read: former employees of kim's music and video) to "live off their girlfriends' money" and whether or not this is feminist/emasculating or just a quirk in this particular social group permitted by artistic, creative men attracted to similarly creative, driven women.

More on all this later. the cat's knocking ornaments off the christmas tree.

They're not a real pet. They don't know how to love.

2009-11-13T08:55:00.001-08:00

in the style of ss specifically this & this.

H: i am thinking "oh that sucks, i hope she's alright. (insert excuse to not hang out after work). Let's just hang out another time."

me: the excuse has to bear all of the clever and cool?

Excuses for H. to avoid meeting with an unsavory fella after work:

1. after work's not going to pan out.
let's just hang out another time
Hannah: ooh thats good

i am too busy skindiving with nurse sharks

i am too busy completing my online course in open heart surgery

i am too busy calculating the angle of incidence it will take to launch a rocket off my roof

I am too busy saving a whale. not all of them, just one.

tonight's not going to pan out. my living room is full of wet cement, and, you know, time is of the essence

me: I'd love to see you after work, but I have to walk my sea monkeys. they get ornery.
H: hahahaha and no one wants that
me: no. especially if their habitat is encased in slow drying wet cement
H: life is hard for those little sea monkeys
me: they're not a real pet
they don't know how to love

contribute if you please.

stressed tv bunny sings the blues

2009-11-06T15:18:00.000-08:00

Can I even blog now, while everything explodes inside?
Loneliness of the oft-unoccupied associate producer. While we run four hours overtime or the monitor ceases to function or we’re faced with a subject who simply cannot answer an interview question in a complete sentence (and past tense, if you please) I’m castrated in the antechamber, surrounded by, in short order: three curling irons, two and a half untasted ice teas, some seventeen shades of foundation and mattifying powder, two grips, one PA, and an uncharged cell phone, on the other end of which likely exists the answers to all of our catastrophies.

My experience in production can be assembled and easily digested through a series of clichés (notably: hurry up and wait, don’t count your chickens, Murphy’s law, too good to be true… & c.) So far, MD season 8 has followed the latter- relatively engaging, well informed subjects, hospital PR the likes of which – ready for another cliché—dreams are made of, relatively exciting locations, relatively accommodating and livable hotel rooms. Keep the explosions to a minimum (dave, don’t pull the monitor off the bed by the cable!) and we’ll present thirteen to seventeen tapes at the end of each ordeal, which chronicle the gorgeous moments everything went right (no matter how many takes it took.)

Our last full shoot this season has been a perfect opposite perfect storm. Of course it’s in New Orleans, where everything runs opposite anyway. Before we left, Dave asked if we were up for the challenge. The morning of, my anxiety alarm clock essentially electrocuted me. But at that point, everything seemed marginally under control. Sure, two of our subjects were unintelligible, and the others were threatening legal action or changing flights the day of departure. But we had locations and had a hospital and more or less had a show, so it seemed.

And we do have a show, more or less. After a $135 lunch (why is my credit card being declined?) and a major monitor malfunction (of course you wanted to spend $500 more on equipment rental!) we’re more or less only an hour behind schedule- producer Dave seems almost satisfied (we’ll see, as the night progresses) and everyone had lunch! On time, no less! Less is more? The hotel is sad and old, the car’s too small, the location might be cramped, the hospital harried… but we’re making headway, making television, powering through, keeping our chins up, noses to the grindstone (cliché cliché cliché)

Today I did my first producerial thing (an interview, with a subject I preinterviewed and was entirely responsible for!) and didn’t fuck up too badly- Dave did have to chime in a few times, but considering it’s my second ever Legitimate Contribution To An Episode, I am glad to have had the opportunity and (cliché) am keeping my fingers crossed that some of my subject will make it onto the show.

I have to keep reminding myself of another cliché- it’s not brain surgery. We’re not saving lives, just making tv about people who do. But when you’re locked outside the action with a dead cell phone, trying to keep silent and watching the clock click towards overtime, it’s hard not to feel professionally impotent. It’s these moments that I am glad cigarettes cost $5 a pack anywhere outside of New York, that diet cokes are part of production costs, and, mostly- that I care enough about this show (MY JOB) to get so worked up over it. Get ready for the monster cliché- I’M TOO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED- but modified for the situation- I do what I love and it’s making me grey prematurely and I don’t think I could have it any other way.

2009-09-11T09:35:00.000-07:00

So, so long sweet summer
I stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays
So long sweet summer
I fell into you
Now you're gracefully falling away

new yorking patterns

2009-09-01T13:48:00.000-07:00

i find repetition really soothing, these days

2009-08-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

this is one of the better photos i've taken recently.
krystian on my roof, 4 july 09

voila! mon truite!

2009-08-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

via tiny art director thanks steph

The last of my fish left over from the 100 hours shooting in poughkeepsie have passed away. But the film is swimming quickly upstream, rocketing its way toward picture lock and post... hopefully in time for a very exciting festival deadline.

walk the fish movie dot com

truth hurts

2009-06-12T09:52:00.001-07:00

Post secret is SO emo.
But sometimes, they hit the nail on the head.
I am/would be this gal.

tarnished goldfish

2009-05-25T19:24:00.001-07:00

Took a week off work to sleep on the floor in Poughkeepsie, producing a short for a professor friend with a bunch of newly minted Vassar grads

Rather than make call sheets (oh, there's plenty of time for that, ladies&gents!) I wanna talk about FEEEEELINGS

(I ALWAYS want to talk about feelings. This is nothing new.)

It is a positive adrenaline shot to be back in production mode after almost exactly a year on hiatus. There's something wonderfully raw about academic indie film making, although The Fishbowl doesn't neatly fit into either category. Technically this isn't a film school movie, because it's not being done through the department and we've only 2 undergrads working with us. It's not quite independent, because we're still keeping our fingers crossed that the dean's office/department will reimburse some/all of the costs. But what is independent, and what I love most about independent film, is the spirit of all of the participants-- everyone's doing this out of the goodness of their hearts and the love of the medium.

James Roehl has written a modest, sincere script that reminds me what's hidden and lovely about being in your midtwenties and being able to appreciate that. He wrote The Fishbowl based on his weekend at RISD a few years ago and workshopped it in Kathleen (my one true professor love)'s class last fall. When it came time for picking narratives, his only got one vote, and it wasn't his own. As the year wound down Kathleen, still touched by sincerity in the face of student film's bombastic, bloody endings, resurrected the idea. James found his one remaining copy of the script, under his bed and muddied by footprints, and together they resurrected it and got eight of us together for a week to make a little movie that could.

My forever partner in crime Katie has been lassoed in as assistant camera, but has been acting as a phenomenal AD for the past 2 days. From day one (literally, freshman year when we both showed up as prospective film/psych double majors and discussed this in the elevator) I've always had Katie as my creative sounding board. Now it's double happiness to have her here to hang out and make art for a week, because emotionally we're on the same playing field-- we've already sorted out the post grad world, and gone through the emotional tumult of being freshly graduated and scared shitless and numb as a coping mechanism because the rug holding everything we knew had just been yanked out from under us. As the only two such folk for whom the rug pulling did not transpire THIS MORNING, it's nice to have a metered, reasonable ally whose company I can safely say I enjoy more than almost anyone else's.

Oh man, the day after graduation. I think I just cried a little bit for a solid week. I can't even imagine how the rest of the crew is even functioning well enough to MAKE AN EQUIPMENT LIST or CONTACT POUGHKEEPSIE PUBLIC TRANSPORT when they've moved 4 years of their lives into their cars for the night, postponing the uncertainty for just one more week to make this movie. There is comfort in the familiarity of production, it breathes a certain way and you get used to the rhythms. Hopefully we can keep everyone so busy that at the end of the week their heads fall off and they can just then remember that the world is mighty uncertain.

Kathleen deserves her own blog entry or an entire blog of adulation because she's such a person. I'm not even sure how i'm processing everything that's going on here but in the span of a year we've gone from an incredible professor-student relationship to something that's not as clearly defined but marvelous in its ambiguity. Such a person. such a person. Fascinating and endlessly impressive and definitely the type of woman I was praying for when she came to the Junior film screenings at the end of 2007-- I wanted to write her an email then and say- HI can you teach me how to do this as a lady? I learn from her every day, and the staying a lady part most of all.

I'm going off an emotional deep end, which means I should go back to menial tasks like finding suitable costumes and scheduling trainrides. My late night concern at this moment are our animal actors, the four goldfish we got today for the shoot that'll have to brave the metro north to come home with me on Friday. As yet unnamed, in the tank at the Petco they were brilliant, actually golden beans. Now they just look hungry and tarnished. We got 4 to have 2 backups/stunt doubles "should anything happen" over the week. I'm hoping they perk the fuck up before their star turn on wednesday.

MORE ON THAT LATER!

GOIN 2 FESTYVUL BRB

2009-04-24T05:40:00.000-07:00

OH HAI
IN 3 HOURS CLYDE AND I ARE LEAVING FOR

NOT PACKED NOT PREPARED NO CLEAN CLOTHES TO WEAR FOR THE WEEKEND

sundays, morningside heights

2009-04-22T22:06:00.001-07:00

sundays, morningside heights
Originally uploaded by analogaesthetic

caitlinmaelovesdavid

2009-04-19T14:39:00.001-07:00

you know who's great?
Jean Vigo.
Just saying.

cubicles.

2009-04-14T07:02:00.000-07:00

Working from home is significantly less delightful when you make the realization that all of your favorite grainy snacks, for which you'd run out for a quick distraction, are off limits, and the only snacky options are fruits, vegetables, or meats. NOT FAIR, JUDAISM!

At one point, this was meant to be a filmblog. In its first iteration, it was solely response papers for my cinema verite class (which, in hindsight, may have been one of the most incredible educational opportunities I had at Vassar. Thanks, Jamie Meltzer, where ever you are!) Then for a hot second it was a proper bed of lies- whenever I went out and pretended to be Noseprint Pictures, a concept that I now realize was woefully underconstructed and unrealistic to anyone who had actually EVER WORKED FOR A FILM PRODUCTION COMPANY.

But, in the interest of killing time on the clock, a filmy anecdote with photos, and a general update.

RIDING TALL won the Best Student Documentary award at the International Family Film Festival. !!! IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING was also playing, which is mega exciting because one could ostensibly 'plex my Vassar movies. I didn't get to go, because that was the weekend of the cruise/funemployment... but when I returned to Puerto Rico, there were several emails and messages waiting for me, highly suggesting I attend the awards banquet. One of the other emails announced that

RIDING TALL had been accepted to the Connecticut Film Festival, along with another of Clyde's movies (New Uke City), Katie's movie (Black Ice) and some stuff from ben and brian (I am so setting up a Ben and Brian tag because as soon as they get to NY, I'd be over the moon to work with them again.)

We're also in the Ivy Film Festival-- Clyde for New Uke, myself for RT, and we got an incredible deal on a hotel in Providence, so we're going to have a romantic weekend getaway to Brown. The beauty of this festival lies in the numbers. There were 350 student films submitted. There were 31 films selected. 3 of those were documentaries. What are 2 of the 3 documentaries? Mine, and Clyde's. The third one is from RISD kid who went to Uganda to shoot child soldiers and an orphanage. Memorize-you-saw-it is totes going to kick our vassar asses to the curb... which should make for a more pleasant carride back to NYC, as I am fiercely competitive, especially with Clyde, and no matter if he wins or I win, I'm going to be unbearable.

Speaking of Clyde, we went to see Adventureland on Sunday, and caught the cameo of our "friend" (and I use the term very loosely, we had him on set for one day and he was pleasant and professional) Dan Bittner. Man, I am obsessed with linking today, aren't I? In any case, it was a sweet, nostalgic film, and Dan was solid. Then, these pictures reemerged from second semester senior year, and I was reminded of my greatest art directorial accomplishment-- the cubicles.

We needed to build a set on the soundstage as a requirement for Ken. The easiest one, Clyde decided, would be the FBI office. Unfortunately, we didn't have any tools. Or any real building experience. And it was snowing. like, a blizzard. I think this was in February, because after the shoot, I ran off to go to the Magnetic Fields with Ali. But then again, when wasn't it snowing last february? Which is less than conducive to running to three art stores, a fabric store, and the hardware store. Part of me seems to remember Gracie tagging along, but that also seems incorrect. There were several moments wherein we tried desperately to make our plans to build these less abstract, using various props to illustrate the positioning of the walls. This was ultimately a failure. We had NO IDEA how to build anything, I was lying my ass off at this point as I'd never actually built anything in stage crew without explicit instructions. We didn't have any tools. It was snowing. We were about to spend $$$ at a hardware store for supplies we weren't sure we needed. In any case, we assembled a lot of junk, including 1x3s, took it all to the sound stage, and then found canvas stretchers that worked far better. The burlap was a bit too thin to block light, so we "reinforced it."

At this point, my hair was either really short, and I can't imagine it was, or it was terrifically long and wound around my head like a demented Heidi. I assume the latter. In any case, Sean Gilmore came to the rescue with a full set of tools (including an electric drill! Who knew you'd need such a thing in college?) And at around 5 AM, clyde and I finished painting the set, left the dressing for the next morning (at 9, I seem to recall) and crawled home. The most impressive part of the whole endeavor was not that we managed to create an office out of nothing, with my feigned technical expertise and borrowed tools, but that in painting four walls with three coats of paint (someone had painted them magenta, which does not cover easily) Clyde did not get one drop of paint on himself. He looked immaculate.

I, on the otherhand, was thoroughly dappled, and completely mystified as to how he had avoided making a similar mess. Maybe it's because I attack all physical activities like a 5 year old.

So, these are the cubicles. Cubicle story is now recorded for posterity. the next time I had to build cubicles (which was probably 2 weeks later) my car nearly blew off the road, lifted by an enormous sheet of foamcore. But that's a story for another day.

Discerning art critic

2009-04-05T11:49:00.001-07:00

Discerning art critic
Originally uploaded by analogaesthetic

Melissa's going to hate her face in this one but the lighting is WEIRD so I sort of love it. It's grungy like the gallery space

Neo Con

2009-03-24T17:00:00.001-07:00

Neo Con
Originally uploaded by aakash nihalani

LOOKIE HERE it's miss melissa and some art!
(check out aakash's show at 17 Frost, appt only during the week and several more events forthcoming, or so I hear tell)

lovebunnies

2009-03-21T08:39:00.003-07:00

Radegast Beergarden has FABULOUS light. I love ryan and sally

our heavy february

2009-02-11T18:12:00.001-08:00

return to the alma mater; kittens; ali&isa.

hello9

2009-01-05T21:42:00.001-08:00

pea soup, thin possibilities

2009-01-05T21:33:00.000-08:00

through the fog, we dance our way out of 2008.

Hiding on the internetz

2009-01-05T09:52:00.000-08:00

Melissa asked me ALL NIGHT not to make public these videos. So i'll only make public the one in which she asks nicely.

Clyde and I came up with a great new vengeance film (as rapey vengeance films are his favorite sort.) It will be the tale of a passionate moviegoer who flies into a rage when people chat during his pictures... and then he kills them. It will be not so subtly based on that guy who shot the other guy during a screening of Benjamin Button in Philly, and also all of the random stabbings that occured in my movie theater at home in New Jersey.

We're going to call it Man Down In Front.

toxxicat

2008-12-31T10:37:00.000-08:00

look at this adorable face. he looks like such a beautiful, intelligent being.
then I got this text message at 3 AM-
The cat shat under my pillow. Am going to the laundromat.
spyder, you fuck. your days as our love muffin are numbered

If You See Something, Say Something

2008-12-22T09:59:00.000-08:00

If You See Something, Say Something from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

Vassar College 2008, Senior Narrative Project
Written and Directed by Clyde Folley
Cinematography by Caitlin Mae Burke

bye bye hairzes

2008-12-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

before

after

and apparently- this is what it looks like in the morning:

BOSSAY

2008-12-05T13:54:00.000-08:00

SAM RYAN, YOU ARE ALL UP IN MY INTERNET GRILL

STEP OFF (but plz don't because I feel like this is the new tin can phone)

In other news, no one has made me cry today. But the night is young, the drinks will be aplenty (H won a free happy hour! If I actually get out of work at a normal person time, I can go there!) and I'm sure I will
1. propose marriage to Ali
2. text inappropriately
3. break a glass
4. leave an ancillary article of clothing somewhere
5. wish I'd eaten more before drinking

2008-12-03T10:07:00.000-08:00

My most recent complaint has been that my life has been completely unbloggable. Jesus. I sound like a Diablo Cody character.

I started atumblr, but that's just because the internet is more interesting than I am, and have cooler stuff. See also: these.

I am currently redigitizing essentially an entire library of material for the work Avid. (As if I need to differentiate between "work Avid" and "home Avid.") I amuse myself with typos-- video for Hannah Montana's "Nobody's Perfect" misspelled as Nobody's Prefect makes me think of a particularly insubordinate private school youth... with a leather jacket over the uniform, smoking by the polo fields. But this is my first glance into the Hannah Montana phenomenon, and I'm feeling old, because I don't really get it, at least not the FRENZY- consumer-wise and otherwise. Or why someone would pay $50 to learn to dance like her, with a plastic mat and a tacky blonde wig. But those people pay dollahs and those dollahs go to womanboss who then pays me, and all is good as long as I make rent and don't eat often enough for it to get expensive.

Yesterday, I thought I had diabetes, but then it was Taco Tuesday, and everything righted itself.

stars and cars and barmen

2008-11-23T14:57:00.000-08:00

There's been something sort of magical about the crappy built in flash on my canon rebel recently-- maybe november's making me want details glossed over into a blinding pale, maybe I like catching people's squinty faces when I hit them with it in the dark bar.

I think my aesthetic sense is disintegrating. This is an important factor to weigh, considering the dslr is now five years old, has already had one serious emergency room visit, and I have "graduation presents"/fourth quarter opportunities to potentially upgrade/accessorize for the camera. the old girl's pretty beat up for a five year old, and I find that the photos I've been taking digitally are vastly inferior to film shots.

Maybe instead of buying myself a better flash/nicer prime lens to replace the mini-zoom (training wheel lens) that came with the camera, I should spend $$ on a photo class and actually learn how to move beyond mediocre.

Regardless, I love this girl and her broken glass (first of two, maybe three, that fell victim to the high spirits of last night.)

more mayakovsky

2008-11-22T18:49:00.001-08:00

The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.

meggieversaire 2008

2008-11-22T00:26:00.000-08:00

man, being in your midtwenties BLOWS.

Metonymy because SYNECDOCHE IS STUPID

2008-11-22T00:11:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I see movies and I get a little incensed, and then it takes the L train 20 minutes to show up to Union square, and I'm alone, and when I'm alone and bored and incensed I write myself long emails about what I did and didn't like about the stupid movie on my phone.

this is one of those times. All phone autocorrects and half thoughts preserved for posterity.

Alright, Charlie Kaufman. We get it. You are a brilliant brilliant man and your first foray into both directing and writing a film should be nothing short of the second coming of Christ, or at least close to mad men in terms of sheer ineffability. Forgive me, I am tired, as I just sat through your opus, all six hours of it, and I have to say, I am impressed. Somehow, you figured out a way to make me hate phillip Seymour Hoffman. I thought it couldn't be done.

Sparkly moments- emma watson playing samantha Morton, the house on fire, adele's paintings, olive's tattoos. I wasn't much impressed with the cinematography, but the production design was impressive, the make up effects were well rendered and not, in my opinion, excessive.

Bit this film is just pretentious. It's everything I hate about Williamsburg- superiority complex plus substance equals giant minus of sincerity. I get it, ck. I know the definition of synecdoche, I see how you implemented it (and how!) I understand your film but I still think it is arrogant of you to make it. Its a good chuckle at the expense of the. Everyman. That's not to say I think films should pander to the lowest common denominator. But rein it the fuck in, ck. I am a well educated woman, I know my film theory, I know my literary devices. I GET it. And my first reaction was still a big fuck you.
If you wanted to create a work, which was clearly a labor of love on your part, that smugly disregards it's viewer after the first ten minutes, then you have succeeded (and how!) but I didn't appreciate it. I don't like reacting so negatively to anyone's work, especially someone I respect. But I am appalled and I want my twelve dollars back.
Sincerely, Cmae

Sent from my iPhone

I will edit this in the morning when I'm more coherent. But I will say, i am fucking PUMPED to see The Wrestler, especially since the trailer uses a baller springsteen song.

2008-11-03T21:09:00.000-08:00

Now I am quietly waiting
for the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.

--

And no one will tell you this, but you can’t be a man. Don’t even try. Be a woman. It's powerful business when done correctly. Do you understand what I’m saying, dear?

potentially fatal side effects

2008-10-26T11:49:00.000-07:00

Okay. so I received HORRIBLE news at the boxdoc this weekend. Apologies for setting up what might appear to be an overshare, I promise the severity of this announcement has nothing to do with gynecological health.
We were discussing something and she asked me if I drink a lot of caffeine or diet soda. I drink a lot of caffeine IN my diet soda, and since I've left college I don't have coffee with the same frequency because I jitter, which reminds me of anxiety, which makes me worried that I'm having anxiety, which makes me concerned about the fact that I'm no longer being treated for anxiety, which generally brings me right to the precipice of an anxiety attack, which is fun for absolutely no one. In any case, I drink diet coke in the morning as a nice routine wakeup... I like exchanging pleasantries with the middle aged indian man in the 8th street subway stop with his giant diamond pinkie ring; he likes that I almost always have exact change. I have a few more during the day... maybe two more on a bad day. What can I say? I like artificial sweeteners, I like keeping my caffeine high, I love guilt free cola flavor.

But apparently, my body DOES NOT love these things.

So my doctor told me that I need to stop drinking diet coke.

This news has not actually sunk in yet. (Partially because I'm now drinking more diet coke just to be defiant.) Diet coke (and its special occasion niece, diet orange sunkist) are my lifeblood. I am defined by the silver can or the red topped 20 oz bottle. I love the way it feels in my hand. I love the way it tastes, warm or cold. I am fully addicted to diet soda. And now some bitch with an MD is telling me that I should gradually wean myself off over the course of the next month, "just to see" if it'll make a difference?

I'd rather not. I'd rather be irritated/uncomfortable/inconvenienced FO-EVAH than give up the chemical delights of my daily drink. Diet Coke's seen me through an epic spectrum of life alterations, and I just don't think it's fair to abandon it now. (spoken like a true addict.)

I quit smoking (pretty much once and for all, except "socially" about once a month) after I graduated. I got a job, then I got another one, and an apartment and all sorts of real life stress without a chemical crutch. Now things are going moderately well, I am decently happy. And then there's this bombshell.

I am going to miss you, diet coke. I really am.
But we'll have our day again sometime soon.

best of the internetz

2008-10-24T10:30:00.000-07:00

Today's such slow going at work that I considered starting a tumblr for all the extraneous reading I've been doing.
My task today is this:
Find music to send to our composer.
Which means I'm using music licensing sites.
At the risk of some sort of infringement, I'm not going to identify the sites, but when I've used them in the past, it's always been amusing how some people describe their songs to potential buyers. This new site I'm on today has a FABULOUSLY odd selection.

here is what I would consider a reasonable blurb:
Atmospheric piece with synth and strings pads and acoustic guitar arpeggios. Slowly builds up in emotion and drama.

here are the descriptions I've been reading as I search for "anthem" music:
note: these are copied EXACTLY from the site

Tainted water drips in a romantically lit sewer tunnel and the freelance art director sells it as sensual irony, client claps approvingly. Robotic rodent sex slaves rejoice when this pushy and uncomfortable track underscores their path to freedom.

Confident and bright, with a self-assured attitude built for taking on the day (in a corporate-training-video sort of way). Features a bass player just happy for a gig and guitarist who idolizes The Artist Formerly Known As.

Imagine yourself lost in the jungle... on the moon, with a monkey.

In the heart of Africa lives Mutambo. Hes cool and likes to dance a lot.

She's still there in the streets...all crazed and proud tea somebody?.well, what can you do about it it's her way to live... and she loves it like that I bet ya.

I'm a nerd. But a nerd that's part of the democratic process.

2008-10-23T16:01:00.000-07:00

I wish I could actually vote no on prop. 8. But I can make a cheesy sign instead!

trudging slowly over wet sand

2008-10-22T14:33:00.001-07:00

hide on the promenade
etch a postcard:
How i dearly wish I was not here

mumbled to the core.

2008-10-15T11:55:00.001-07:00

i has a shiny new business card
So I failed pretty triumphantly towards the end of the NYFF, but in my defense there were heaps of Jewish holidays in there, and I went with Clyde to one of the Oshima movies (Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence) so I think I did my duty to cover a variety of festival related events. Apparently I missed all of the good, sexy Oshima movies, but seeing David Bowie punk a japanese general in guyliner with cheekbones that just wouldn't quit was worth the price of admission.
That, and the cameo from the most irritating character in my favorite-ever-film (The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover) as yet another bizarro, unexplained boy soprano character...
Whoops. According to IMDB, this is false. But how many platinum blonde, hunchbacked English lads were there to choose from in the early 80's?
Apparently, a lion's share.

All you need is bun

2008-10-02T07:38:00.000-07:00

NYFF Update:
Hunger
Wendy and Lucy
I'm Gonna Explode
Waltz with Bashir

Shorts:

Cry Me a River
I don't feel like dancing
This is her

Forthcoming:

Gomorrah
Afterschool
Chouga

---
Remember the story I wrote from the emergency room while waiting for ryan to potentially have his toe amputated?
Apparently, the saga continues, but this time with bun bun as the protagonist:

Once upon a time there was a bunny named Bun Bun. He was small and soft,
with white fluff and very expressive ears. He traveled around in the handbag
of his good friend, Zelda Mae Bun. While she was at work, he would emerge
from the bag and sprawl upon her head in a puddle of white fluff, or hop
about to nibble on important documents. He was the happiest bunny in the
whole wide world, and wrote several novels under the name Bun Scott
Fitzgerald, dedicating them to his one true love, Zelda.

But then one day, Zelda Mae decided to join a gang and eloped with a shady
Thai cineast. She threw her handbag into the East River, with the poor
little bunny still inside, and ran off to live at the Film Forum, only
emerging to feed on a mysteriously powerful demon rum called Sparks in the
hippest dives in Brooklyn. But being sound of health and quick of thought,
the little bunny climbed atop a corpse floating nearby, and used the
vibrating ring of Zelda Mae's iPhone to propel himself back to shore. There,
he hopped carefully through the forest of used hypodermic needletrees,
eventually climbing back into the dark mean city.

Once back on land, the incredulous Mr. Bun hopped into a nearby bodega,
where he spent several days disguised as a toilet brush - an item rarely
used by the locals. He survived for nearly a week by eating nothing but
spaghetti and velveeta. And then one day, to his great surprise, Zelda Mae
wandered into the bodega sporting a fashionable new handbag. Shocked and
horrified, the little bunny watched as Zelda Mae sauntered over to the
cooler to gather a great quantity of sparks. The quick-thinking bunny then
hopped into action, diving into Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag while
she was distracted with her beverage acquisitions. There he hid as he waited
for his once beloved friend to finish her transaction, wondering how he
would broach the subject of their separation.

It was then, with great horror, that Bun Bun realized he was not alone in
Zelda Mae's fashionable new handbag. Grabbing a nearby lighter that should
not have been there at all, the handsome hare illuminated a wicked looking
feline creature curled up in what was rightfully his napping spot. The awful
creature let loose a terrifying hiss and revealed a set of retractable used
hypodermic needleclaws from its ugly little paw. The dread beastycat raised
its needleclaws high, poised to deal the sweet and wonderful bunny a deadly
blow. But the lovable ninjabun was ready for the hellkitty, quickly wielding
his recently sharpened switchblade...

Will the clever and adorable triumph over the despicable cat-thing? Or will
vice and wickedness persevere to make Zelda Mae a most macabre pair of bunny
slippers? Stay tuned for our next episode:

Along Came A Bunny
Or
There Will Be Bun

In which Caitlinmae is disillusioned by gawker

2008-09-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

I moved to NY, and I got REAL earnest.
Funny how life works out.

I just revisited Gawker for one of the first times since graduation... I've been successfully off Perez Hilton for a few months longer than that. I read this post and literally felt nauseous. I read Jessica's limelight inducing blogpost, which I thought was a sincere and reasonable critique of the Tracie and Moe mega-faux pas (Why oh why don't I have more vital occupations than the internet.) But these attacks by Gawker commenters, this spewed vitriol? It actually turned my stomach. Not to mention that I've BEEN that girl, crying in supermarkets because everything is so foreign and you feel so lost. I've also been vegetarian in Paris, albeit briefly, and if Harris hadn't been there as my guide, I wouldn't have had anything to eat nearly the whole time.

Who knew that once I actually got to the city as a resident my skin would thin to the snarkattacks of the media blog I'd loved from Poughkeepsie? When I was lonelylost in Prague, I'd read Gawker and feel homesick. I found Riese via bloggorea, and that's been nothing but a delight. But now that I have a 11211 zipcode and live in hipster Disney World, I certainly haven't hardened in a way that's made this sort of thing seem acceptable.

I'll stick with Jezebel from now on, Mr. Denton. I like their politics infinitely more, and they don't seem to be out for blood nearly as ferociously as your more profitable blog.

Old Jews

2008-09-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

Look ma! Someone paid me to take pictures of the elderly!

On the nature of septembers

2008-09-06T06:53:00.000-07:00

I rewatched my czech film last night, and found it sorely lacking in several areas in which I was once quite proud of it.
You can be the judge, it's on vimeo:

By Your Side from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

(also, it bothers me a little bit that I can't select the preview image.)

This film is not nearly as tight as I thought it was two years ago. The storytelling is far too concise, the writing seems limited. It's too brief. But I think Chris did a GREAT job making it beautiful... and I could easily use it on an editing/art design reel.

I am starting to realize certain unglamourous things about my behavior in prague... None of these are disheartening, but they certainly color the memories. In short, I was a ridiculously irresponsible drinker, lived way too hard, gained an absurd air of entitlement, and was generally unbearable to some of my classmates and professors. But SOMEHOW, I managed to hook hannahschorr and samryan, and they're still around, only having known the violent, slightly unhinged caitlin that I presented for those five months in that country.

Have I mellowed over the past two years, or do I simply feel less justified in raving bitchery? Can I look at my creative output from that time and be as impressed with myself as I was when I had just returned?

I think it matters little. I was pleased with myself then, and currently can actually see quite an improvement: both artistically and interpersonally.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman is my life coach.

2008-08-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

Lester Bangs: Aw, man. You made friends with them. See, friendship is the booze they feed you. They want you to get drunk on feeling like you belong.
William Miller: Well, it was fun.
Lester Bangs: They make you feel cool. And hey. I met you. You are not cool.
William Miller: I know. Even when I thought I was, I knew I wasn't.
Lester Bangs: That's because we're uncool. And while women will always be a problem for us, most of the great art in the world is about that very same problem. Good-looking people don't have any spine. Their art never lasts. They get the girls, but we're smarter.
William Miller: I can really see that now.
Lester Bangs: Yeah, great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love... and let's face it, you got a big head start.
William Miller: I'm glad you were home.
Lester Bangs: I'm always home. I'm uncool.
William Miller: Me too!
Lester Bangs: The only true currency in this bankrupt world if what we share with someone else when we're uncool.
William Miller: I feel better.

2008-08-05T14:27:00.000-07:00

Spooked.

2008-07-25T20:31:00.000-07:00

Tonight, amidst the writhing, nubile flotsam of Bedford Avenue, I turned a corner and nearly bumped into the one ghost I've allowed myself in the past few years. I'm reasonably sure I gasped audibly, I sidestepped away from his forward motion, ducked my head, and skittered away, tail between my legs.

I couldn't express what had just happened to Claire. Nothing had happened. Just like nothing happened ten months ago that caused me to behave this way. But I was seriously spooked. This ghost, Coach... originally to hannah (and later, to me), he died when heath ledger died, that the two were just one destructive mass of wasted talent. This is a spectre of grumpy three am threats when we slept on the couches in the air conditioning, of white hearts on the fourth of July, of Wednesdays.

Every Wednesday last summer, the not-yet-ghost-Coach and I would watch two or three movies, and drink two or three bottles of red wine. He'd cook me steak frites and I'd run down to the store to get more peanut oil, not quite daytime drunk at this point, but well on the way to a bordeaux tinted laziness. He liked dark toned movies set in Europe or the 50's, I learned to like red meat. He was a bartender, and self destructive in the necessitated by his vampiric schedule. We had a ball. And then we were stupid-drunk and hooked up. It was very quotable. and he got weird, as he had a girlfriend, and I went back to vassar.

I've been in touch with our mutual friends and I knew I'd probably see him again, but I was more expecting it to be on my terms, and with some warning. So, it was probably immature of me to bolt when I saw him on the block tonight. But sometimes, awkwardness is unavoidable, and the best course of action is to dart away.
Or something.

Man, i totally got "coach-ed" again tonight, unintentionally!

EXPOSURE

2008-07-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

My dear dear friend Travis was shooting promotional material for Summerstage (really cool internship!) so of course, I forced him to interview me. I am full of opinions, and apparently full of sass. Here's the link- I totally didn't stay past Born Ruffians, because no amount of indie rock love for VW was worth weathering that storm.

http://www.summerstage.org/index1.aspx?BD=21253

I am such a tool, in my white ray-bans. Wish I could embed this video. Also wish they used the bit where I said I was sixteen years old and went to the Death Cab summerstage show for my Bat Mitzvah

A collection of Wall-E backlash links

2008-07-13T10:50:00.000-07:00

Now I feel bad for picking on the little guy
because apparently hating on Wall-e is the cause celebre.

the clearinghouse for criticism on AV club

Wall-e isn't nice to fat people on Slate

best article title ever on NYTIMES

Don't let me down, Wall-e

2008-07-11T18:37:00.001-07:00

Okay. I am going to sound like the biggest grinch ever. I am prepared to look back at these words and cringe over how pretentious I sound.

But as much as i LOVED wall-e as a movie, I have some huge problems with it as a text. And as children's movies are often the most pervasive texts that shape our impressionable pudding brains, I'm worried it's more insidious than marketed.

I was talking with sisner (melissa's sister laura, who is basically my older-sis-hero-figure) who was a gender studies major at smith. She took some fantastic gender and cinema class and the way famous professor gave a lecture on how Pixar is usually really progressive in terms of the coding of their films. While in most of them, the characters are gendered, there are also frequent examples of non-gendered characters (most of the secondary toys in toy story, a lot of the fish in finding nemo, etc.) For the characters who are gendered, the storylines infrequently celebrate rigid adherence to the binary/roles. The male father fish in Finding Nemo raises his son without any question from his anemone community; Buzz Lightyear (the hypermasculine toy! the high tech toy!) is portrayed as a sterile piece of technology, while Woody and Mr. Potatohead et. al are classic favorites appreciated by both children and thus not ever totally rejected. Sure, there's instances in Pixar films where characters shoehorn themselves into their gender roles for safety, but overall, these films aren't about heterosexual love or the masculine/feminine place in society. Also, the characters aren't villianized or ridiculed for defying social conceptions of their "place" based on gender, which is a HUGE step forward for Disney. (don't get me staaaaaahted on not only gender but ethnicity in disney movies. So upsetting)

I was so gleeful when I saw Wall-e that I actually exclaimed out loud and clapped my hands and acted like a six year old. I had SUCH high hopes for Wall-e, and it didnt disappoint. That robot was ADORABLE and I dug the message and I cried for about 45 minutes of the movie. And not just little tears at the requisite "all hope is dashed" moments- I cried when Wall-E went home to his trailer. I cried when he left his cockroach friend behind. I cried big fat sobby "Notebook" style tears for this movie. And then I went home and thought about it and realized that I was more than a little hurt.

Wall-E and EVE didnt have to be gendered. They're ROBOTS. They didn't need to have a heterosexual love affair. They could have had nice neutral robot love, and I would have been happy. If they had nice low key gender performances, I could have given it the go ahead. In fact, our lovely Wall-E isn't hypermasculine- he's a bot. He's a bot that wants to be loved and is more than a little emasculated and loves musicals- he's a metrobot. EVE, on the other hand, is a bitch on wheels. For me, therein lies the problem.

EVE is an OBVIOUSLY female robot. She's all rounded surfaces (hello, vagina!) and receptacles for civilization saving organic material. Her acronym pigeonholes her as not only a woman but THE woman. The original. The standard. But EVE herself is a bitch on wheels, what with her machine gun arm and her laser vision. She has an important part to play in the maintenance of humanity- unfortunately, that part fits neatly within her gender construct. Outside of her directive, however, EVE is a self sufficient, goal oriented, high functioning/high technology being. Which would be a wonderful message to the young ladies in the audience about their own capabilites lacking limitation. But herein lies the problem:
the film CLEARLY faults EVE for stepping outside the gender boundaries. She can be an independent woman, but as we're meant to empathize with Wall-E, she becomes an ice-bitch just because she's trying to do her job, and she's less anthropomorphized than he is. EVE's all "directive" this and "directive" that, when Wall-E just wants to hold her hand, like he saw in the musicals (another delicious reactionary bastion of strict adherence to gender codes) she misses out on the "connection" he's trying to make with her.
EVE is being denied love because she won't behave like a woman should, and forget her job to put emotions first. But why does EVE have to be a she in the first place? and why is she lambasted for having priorities beyond finding a nice boy-bot and making baby-bots? Is that even possible?

I loved Wall-e, much to the contrary of what I've said here. It made my heart sing, it made me cry, I loved the fat people and I worried about our world. But now that I'm thinking of Disney movies as universally acceptable texts, digested without question by masses who look to them as "safe" material for their children, I get uneasy.

Why can't our non-gendered robot friends just get along happily without heterosexual concerns?

Riding Tall

2008-07-02T06:13:00.000-07:00

Riding Tall: A Horse Connection in the Hudson Valley from Caitlin Mae Burke on Vimeo.

Heyo! I figured out how to get it online!

deleteria

2008-06-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

I promised myself I'd go to bed early so I could go to work early and Get Things Done.
I spent $$ I should be saving for rent (so I can move out of my parents' apartment) on a cab, so that I could get home at A Reasonable Hour.
I am still awake, putzing around online.
Sigh. But David and I spent a good two hours (with the company of his israeli cousin and courtney donner) deconstructing early ninties television. He quoted equus, I giggled into my third glass of wine on an empty stomach. We're pure class, and I'm so glad to have this brand new partner in crime whilst my former p-i-c's have deserted me for larger scale adventures (see: Las vegas, new orleans; card playing, cocks.)
--

I was the recipient of a backhanded catcall in the half a block I walked home tonight. Someone started shouting "Excuse me, excuse me." Which is of course the cue to avert your eyes, pick up your pace, and get where ever you're going without recognizing the Caller. But this guy went a step further-- into balls out honest territory.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! I'm desperate. Honey, I'm desperate."

Well, glad to know that if I was the last woman on earth, it'd still be okay. (I looked cute today too! Like a sailor!) He kept shouting until I was out of earshot.

--

Today I'm trying to figure out two things.

1. Do I like cats? Many of the flatmates Claire and I are considering want to bring cats. This would not bother me. But I am considering getting one myself, and I wonder if I have the emotional reserves to love a creature that could do just as well without me.

2. Do I want my hair cut like Edie Sedgewick, or Andy Warhol?
(to be honest, I'm leaning towards Andy.)
OR

Except, roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair

2008-06-29T21:21:00.000-07:00

This is the summer of my discontent, gravelly voiced, working class songsmiths weaving melodies from the lower registers-

endless amounts of Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Bruce Springsteen... Stephen Merritt, the National.

My womb music was bruce springsteen, I was possibly conceived during the Born in the USA tour, 1985. I don't know if that makes the space he takes up in my soul any less cliche, but I will draw upon the wisdom of Sabina Carlson to justify my shameless devotion to the garden state, springsteen love and all--

...Grow Wings from Your Wounds...We're all stellar, our friends, because we've had to claw ourselves out of the suburbs and onward to the stars--- through that brick red dirt of South Jersey and the apathy weighing ankles like boots coated in clay...
I am in love with New Jersey... and if you've never photographed broken glass in an abandoned casino in Asbury Park with a bohemian princess... if you've never seen the electric factories glow like angels on I-95...if you've never wished on a streetlamp when you couldn't see shooting stars... don't tell me New Jersey isn't beautiful...

Film comment--
My Winnipeg. My Winnipeg. My Winnipeg. So sentimental and bitingly nostalgic and genuine, in the best way possible for an ambivalent, experimental film about a mixed bag hometown, and escape, without answers.

production stills- driggs, ID

2008-06-22T11:30:00.001-07:00

filmgeek social networking

2008-06-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

I wish there was some sort of community like goodreads or lastfm to record recently viewed films. Actually, I take that back. I don't necessarily want that published.
The weeks since graduation have seen a dramatic flux in my cinematic intake. I fully blame david lieberman, as for six of the first eight days I spent in new york were in his company, and we watched movies for probably four of those six days. It's sick, I'm viewing voraciously.
In no particular order, what I've been watching over the past week and a half-
Stuck
Savage Grace
Serenity
Judy Berlin (with Eric Mendelsohn and Edie Falco at YFFLC)
Wanted and Desired (in a hotel in Driggs, Idaho)
My Winnipeg (with Guy Maddin)
Bottle Rocket

Tonight I want to go see Beauty in Trouble at the Angelika (czechs! might be able to go with my film school roommate! czechs!) but I could also, you know, leave the apartment for the first time today and go read in the park rather than sit in the dark.

Branding Broadway

2008-05-30T17:21:00.000-07:00

Disney's The Lion King as Culture and Commerce
FILM 212- THe MUSICAL
Sarah Kozloff

It is often forgotten that first and foremost, film is a business: a multi-billion dollar enterprise forged on the heartache of bad box office returns and delight of surprise successes. The art form may not have progressed to its international status were it not for the lucrative returns garnered on successful implementation of a formula or a well conceived experiment. Perhaps one of the greatest manipulators of this formula is the Walt Disney Corporation. Using anthropomorphized animals, celebrity voices and catchy, upbeat and current sounding or thematically appropriate songs, Disney has drawn audiences by producing a familiar product in various iterations of the aforementioned formula. Starting with Snow White (1937) the company has produced a stream of exceptionally well-received animated features, many of which earned Academy Awards, even before the advent of the “Best Animated Feature” category in 2001. It is no small surprise, therefore, that as consumer culture matured and product tie ins became a normal and fiscally advantageous feature of live action films, that Disney’s animated films increased their already impressive product through marketing tie ins.
In expanding the already well established brand, it is not shocking that Disney turned to Broadway to pursue further successes of its films. The Lion King, released in theaters on June 24, 1994, was put into production as a Broadway show only a few years later and opened on November 13, 1997. The film’s gross earnings seemed positive evidence that The Lion King as brand would translate profitably, even in a literal transference of the screen material to stage. But when noted experimental theater maker Julie Taymor, fresh off successes with alternatively staged productions of Titus Andronicus and eclectic, multinational productions using puppetry, was courted to direct the project, the fate of the Disney musical brand was tempered by its amenableness to adaptation. Taymor’s drastically different shaping of The Lion King, which includes more African inspired musical numbers and highly stylized execution of the film’s completely animal cast can certainly be seen as an element of the musical’s enormous success. Yet it must not be overlooked how the consumer, courted by the Disney branding of the play, bought in not only to Taymor’s spectacle, but to the Disneyfied Times Square as a destination and the show, with its merchandise tie ins conveniently located next door in an enormous Walt Disney Company Store, as a consumable.
To properly consider The Lion King (on stage and screen) as an expression of the Disney brand, one must first look to the original film to process the dimensions of its success and explore their cause. During its theatrical run and re-release on IMAX, the film grossed $312.8 million, an unprecedented amount for Disney and the fifth highest domestic grossing film in history. It is also the best selling home video of all time, having sold over 55 million copies. “Although not unlike other Disney animated films that use catchy songs, rich animation, and a diverse cast of voices, The Lion King has grossed significantly more than early popular films such as The Little Mermaid (1989), Aladdin (1995), or even the only animated film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, Beauty and the Beast (1991). It captured two Academy Awards and two Grammys for its music.” The film exists within the canon of the new Disney of the nineties (starting with The Little Mermaid and running through to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996.) At this point, computer generated imagery was a relatively new phenomenon, and the inclusion of 3D images (such as the scene of the wildebeest stampede) made it an impressive development of the art form. The computer program used to actualize the visceral experience of the stampede was written specifically for the film’s production. These exciting new visuals contributed to the appeal of the film, as a technological development of the tried and true Disney animated feature.
Appeal it did, and to a vast spectrum of demographics. “The ''Lion King'' phenomenon is due to the unusually strong crossover appeal of the romantic adventure to kids and adults, and both genders. Most telling is the fact that many kids-and some adults- [were] already going back for repeat viewings.” Accessing all of these groups truly made the film a popular destination for the whole family. The film’s 89 minute run time and inclusion of pop musical songs by composer Tim Rice and lyricist Elton John helped infuse additional familiarity (especially to those comfortable with the Disney film equation for success.) Catchy songs such as “Hakuna Matata” and the ballad “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” were not only celebrated by film audiences, but also the music industry, who rewarded the composers with two Grammy Awards. Celebrity voice work by James Earl Jones, Matthew Broderick, Jeremy Irons, Whoopi Goldberg and Jonathan Taylor Thomas ensured that star power was also a draw. As mentioned earlier in reference to the “formula,” audiences are most comfortable with the familiar. Hearing James Earl Jones voice Mufasa connected Jones’ star factor and the amalgam of his on screen personalities to the character, lending a sort of context that a non-celebrity probably would not have provided.
Unfortunately, what is familiar is not always authentic, especially when a film attempts to depict unfamiliar terrain such as Africa. The Lion King’s illustration of the Pridelands (fictionalized Africa) is non-specific and involves very few references to the actual continent it is intended to represent, much less any individual nation within that environment. This is not entirely surprising, as the film was almost singularly produced by Americans and Europeans. Lebo M, a contributing composer who wrote the Zulu language chorus to “Circle of Life,” was the only African working on the film’s production team. This is a particularly resonant fact, considering the film’s creation during the fall of apartheid in South Africa. While he and Hans Zimmer did add some African elements to the score, only “The Circle of Life” has Zulu lyrics. Additionally, while the production team originally considered using African fabric patterns in the visuals of the backgrounds, this was deemed overly stylized and was thus rejected in favor of the vast, mystical expanses that made the final film. This lack of African elements, which would seem appropriate for the film’s non-ethnic geographical setting, was somewhat rectified by the 1995 release of Lebo M’s album Rhythm of the Pridelands. Nine of the ten songs on this record incorporate some Zulu lyrics, and several of the tracks would ultimately be incorporated into the stage musical. As the film only shows animals of Africa, and does not strive for connection to African culture (which is apparent in the lack of African crew members) the pop sound of Elton John and Tim Rice’s score did not clash with the artistic direction- there was little need for an authentic African sound in this “Dark Continent” Disneyland.
Proven with the earlier films of the 1990s, commercial success and consumable characters went hand in hand. “Because of the success of the first six animated feature films produced in the ‘new era’ of Disney animation (the Little Mermaid, 1989; Beauty and the Beast, 1991; Aladdin, 1993; The Lion King, 1994; Pocahontas, 1995; The Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996) and their mass merchandising, Disney animated characters became ubiquitous for children of the 1990s.” Adding to this ubiquity were the well-selected marketing tie-ins. For The Lion King’s June 24, 1994 release, seven figurines were available with kid’s meals at Burger King, and noted advertiser Saatchi & Saatchi mounted a 10 million dollar campaign to unite the two brands. Disney animated features seem tailor made for promotional marketing, considering how the animated animals lent themselves to recreation as toys, through which the fantasy of the movie could pursue indefinitely through the invention of new story lines for the toy-character. Mark Crispin Miller, in his bitingly titled article, “Advertising: End of Story,” elucidates this point more clearly:
The convergence of the movies with both cartoons and ads makes sense, because the ad and the cartoon each present a fantasy of perfect wish fulfillment: that is, a wish fulfillment that seems both immediate and absolute, arising, on the one hand, from a purchase (which will make life perfect now) or, on the other hand, from the animated spectacle itself (in which the universe appears responsive to your wishes.)
While Miller addressed this concern towards the trend shift in Hollywood towards creating “cartoon-like” live action films, the theory certainly applies when the film is originally a cartoon. Not only can children follow Simba’s adventures on the screen, they can expand on his future with their own plaything. The astounding box office success of the film and the outstanding performance of its Burger King tie ins exemplify sales synergy. “Said a Burger King spokesman: 'This is the best Disney promotion we've done. Kids meal sales have tripled since we started (June 20). We produced 30 million premiums for the promotion, which lasts three more weeks.” The film feeds the frenzy for the toys, the popularity of the toys hypes the film and develops a cult around its characters, creating additional desire to become an audience member/participant in the movie.
The move from film to Broadway was not, as for other movie musicals, as secure a prospect in the 1990’s as it is currently, with multiple studios arranging theatrical departments rather than simply selling the rights to their intellectual property. In 1996, at the onset of production for The Lion King on Broadway, Disney’s only other venture from animated film to live action theater was Beauty and the Beast. At the time of The Lion King’s debut, Beauty and the Beast had been running for four years and was estimated to have brought in $150 million in profits. However, the show was little more than a literal translation of the film to the stage, with all the flash of the animation but little expansion of the narrative. “Disney's first Broadway musical, Beauty and the Beast--based on the film and directed by a theme-park veteran, Rob Roth--was a traditional stage confection that came as close as possible to being a literal, three-dimensional re-creation of the movie.” This seems, in hindsight, a safe bet for the Walt Disney Corporation; a live staging of an already popular and familiar plot could do little wrong in fostering brand identification and positive ties to the story line. But in terms of spectacle and artistry, the seasoned Broadway theatergoers were seemingly unimpressed by the pyrotechnics and dancing teacups of the live staging, some going so far as to consider it “a big tacky kid’s show.”
Developing The Lion King as the successor to this live action cartoon required breaking with tradition in order to embrace the theatre community than alienate it. As soon as theater-maker Julie Taymor was courted to direct the project, thoughts of the Disney musical as a palatable, “safe” translation of the film without any deviation from the original source could be quickly discarded. Taymor herself acknowledges that she came on to the project as a creative force, rather than a re-creative one:
‘I had not yet seen the film when Tom [Schumacher, Executive Vice President of Walt Disney Theatrical Productions] called and asked me to consider conceptualizing The Lion King for Broadway,’ explains the New York City based Taymor. Once she saw the film, Taymor was convinced that it was ‘good source material. It felt like a good story that one could elaborate on.’ She says. ‘naturally, it would be aesthetically different.”
In signing Taymor, the Disney executives were well aware of her theatrical background, which included productions across the Asian continent and studies of mime and mask making worldwide. The executives seemed eager to work in concert with the artist, rather than outwardly force her hand. Julie Taymor’s previous work is hardly evident of the type of literal translation that was utilized in the stage adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. Those familiar with Disney and Taymor’s experimental, eclectic theater expressed skepticism before the show’s release that the two defined aesthetics could coagulate into one successful show. “It might appear that Disney has hakuna matata’d right off the deep end. Taymor’s highly stylized theater work—using masks, puppetry, mime and other non-western techniques, seems as far from classic Disney animation (and from those dancing teapots in Broadway’s Beauty and the Beast) as one can imagine.” Yet it is exactly that incorporation of international elements, and the stylized artistic design of the stage musical that are often attributes considered causal for its wild success.
One of Taymor’s major departures from the production of the film involved more global creative input. Lebo M was not to be the only African to contribute to this project. Scenic designer Richard Hudson, who won a Tony for his work on the production, was born in Zimbabwe and lived there until he was eighteen. This permitted him a better understanding of “stylized Africa” based on first hand experience. His color palate and the textures utilized to create the set pieces evoke some of the images of fabric patterns and tribal art that the animators originally rejected in shaping the film’s landscape. Sound designer Tony Meola used sound effects recorded in Africa. He also insisted that percussionists situated throughout the house would add to the communal feel of experiencing theater, despite opposition from Disney. This is a practice unfamiliar in the global North, wherein the audience and spectacle are traditionally kept separate. By situating musicians amongst the audience, elements of communal international theater are employed, emphasizing the group experience over the individual’s.
Julie Taymor’s specialty in mask making, derived from Asian theater practices, instantly separated her musical from Beauty and the Beast through its representation of animated characters as amalgam between masked human/unmasked animal—to varying degrees dependent on the character. For example, the mask for the character Mufasa sits above the actor’s head, so audiences must divide attention between the actor-human and the still lion character elements. On the other hand, the mask for Scar, Mufasa’s brother, is mechanically articulated so that the actor playing the role can control the lion’s facial expressions with subtle movements of a control in his hand. In the movie, the characters are anthropomorphized and uniformly presented as animated animals. Their personage does not require the same reconciliation between costume and character, as the only disparate element is the idea of a talking animal—one with which Disney audiences have made their peace decades ago.
Critics lauded Taymor for her departure from the source material. “Taymor has turned the show into a gorgeous display of world theatre, with a more African sound than the film and an array of Asian theatre techniques, as well as her own theatrical contrivances to render onstage such fantastic things as a supercilious hornbill, a life-size elephant, a flock of gazelles.” Visual and stylistic departures aside, which could be expected in the translation of an animated feature to live action, the most profound changes accrued in the staging of the musical are the addition of new musical numbers, which also help to expand the material’s cultural source and create the experience of communal theater. Lebo M’s contributions to the Broadway score complimented Taymor’s international influence on what was otherwise the patented Disney myth. These materials, much of which was written originally for a concept album that accompanied the animated film’s score, depart from John and Rice’s pop fare and draw from Lebo’s South African background. Lebo wrote and arranged two new songs for the musical, and co-wrote four others. His compositions allowed for the inclusion of an intricate dance piece for the female members of the company called “The Lioness Hunt,” which not only focuses attention on the lionesses of the Pride Rock community (previously overshadowed by their male counterparts) but also allows for the addition of African style dancing in a way that the Western compositions of Rice and John do not. Ensemble numbers Lebo M composed for the stage employ the use of a South African chorus, singing in Zulu and English, which ties in neatly with Taymor’s extensive international renovations to the show. “Eight musical numbers have been added, ranging from African style choral music to new songs by Elton John and Tim Rice, the movie’s original composer and lyricist.”
The inclusion of new material was carefully positioned within the show, as to not unsettle audiences expecting only to see their familiar Disney friends. The first three songs in the Broadway production were all originally written for the movie by Tim Rice and Elton John. The second number, “The Morning Report,” was animated but ultimately not included in the film. The fourth song, “Chow Down,” is also a John/Rice composition. It is not until the fifth song, “They Live in You,” that original material by Lebo M makes its debut in a full ensemble number. This is also the first large scale singing and dancing number with primarily Zulu lyrics. However, while this is a departure, the familiarity returns with the final two songs before intermission- “Be Prepared” and “Hakuna Matata,” both of which existed in the movie. Taking stock of the first act of the Lion King as a stage musical, the material is evenly split between pre-existing songs written for the movie and new compositions for the show. However, the majority of the numbers that Elton John and Tim Rice contributed appear in this first half.
After Act I reassured audiences with comfortable musical numbers from the movie, Act II was permitted a bit more freedom to deviate in its adaptation and implement Lebo M’s contributions to the score. In this act, only one original number from the movie is included (“Can You Feel the Love Tonight”) and all other songs include a Zulu chorus sung by a South African chorus. Granted, there are fewer musical numbers in the second act, but this departure from the source material contributes greatly to the internationality of the production and strengthens its ties to its African setting. After setting up the movie music (written by white composers) and drawing the audience into the setting of the musical (with all of its international attributes,) Act II is allowed to expand upon the Lion King movie and flesh it out into a vibrant, multiethnic spectacle, rather than one constrained to what was established by the film version and, concurrently, what audiences would expect from a literal translation.
The danger in so drastically changing a widespread brand is the potential backlash against the unfamiliar stylized adaptation. The Elton John and Tim Rice songs from the movie musical are those that kept theaters packed in the summer of 1994. Yet audiences and critics alike seemed to warm to Lebo M’s contributions to the score, while indicating that something was lost in translation of the John/Rice songs.
The music is also not consistently successful. Most of the songs written by Elton john and Tim Rice for the Disney film have been carried over to this production, and the pair composed three new ones for the play. Their Hollywood Disney character now seems strangely out of place. Not so the other lyrics and music composed by Ms. Taymor and others: M. Lebo, a South African born composer and performer; Mark Mancina, who had assisted in the writing and arranging the music for the Disney film. The African chant, sung by a chorus of mainly south African singers, often using native languages, bestows a new authenticity and casts a spell over the proceedings from the moment the play begins.
Of the three songs John and Rice contributed to the stage musical’s score, “The Morning Report” was written for the film, edited out, and then re-added as additional material after its success on Broadway. The other two, as the above review indicates, were seemingly less palatable additions to the diverse expression of the narrative as conceived by Taymor.
Julie Taymor’s notable contributions to the adaptation of The Lion King into a more communal experience with international accessibility via its varied inspirations can be seen as a notable departure from the Disney brand’s staid formula. Yet judging by the show’s sweep of six 1998 Tony awards, including Best Musical and a Best Director nod for Julie Taymor (making her the first woman in history to win this award) as well as eight Drama Desk awards in 1998, the critical response was overwhelmingly positive. Popular approval was also exceptionally well established. Today, ten years after its debut, the show has made over 3 billion dollars worldwide and still garners over 1 million dollars a week in Broadway ticket sales.
The enduring fiscal success of The Lion King on Broadway plays positively into the idea of the impermeable influence of the Disney brand. “’For me it’s both the animation and theater,” Mr. Schneider [president of Walt Disney Studios] says. ‘We knew we would be able to attract the Disneyites,” he says. He was counting on the people who loved The Lion King movie to be first in line at the theater box office- and then draw the sophisticated theater crowd afterwards.” The show’s original home theater, the New Amsterdam, was physically connected to a large Disney Company store, in which audience members need not even wait until the end of the musical in order to sate their consumerist desires. The store was open during intermission, its doors inviting traffic flow between the theater and commercial space and permitting the spectators to possess their own personal, physical representations of the characters on stage before them, almost immediately. This combination of commerce and creativity was seen by some as an invasion upon the sacred art space of theatre by capitalism.
The theatrical embodiment of cartoon characters allows Disney and other corporations in the entertainment industry to transform what have become traditional capitalist strategies for attracting consumers… by creating environments and narratives through which spectators/consumers are creating interpolated into fictions produced by and marketed in both shows and stores, entertainment and retail based corporations allow bodies to inhabit commodities and so suggest that commodities, in turn, can be brought to life.
This attitude ignores the reality that the majority of audiences for big budget Broadway shows are not highbrow theater patrons comparing Lion King to Taymor’s Titus Andronicus. The major ticket sales go to tourists. Just as Disney World is an international destination, so too is Broadway, and the marriage of the two permits exceptional commercial success.
At this point, one would be remiss if one did not address the involvement of Disney in the creation of “the New Times Square.” Beneficial to its branding to have a show on Broadway, Disney’s presence was also seen as a positive contribution to the real estate value of the area. “The other time Times Square was reinvented was in the 1950s when it was the heyday of Broadway ‘was celebrated around the world as a vibrant theater district bathed in a flood of electric lights. A vital crossroads, it combined a communications and media center with a theater and movie district, hotels, restaurants and bars, office towers, and nearby garment show rooms and factories.” However, by the early nineties, the grey slush of shady dealings had sullied the Great White Way. In his efforts to make New York a safe, family friendly destination again (and bring in tourist revenue) Mayor Rudolph Giuliani courted Disney to develop the area, allowing them to make alternative deals with theater unions so their expanded projects would be able to succeed. Bringing the Disney magic to Times Square seems to have served this purpose:
A few years ago, it was home to hookers, dirty bookstores and grungy B movies palaces. Now a little stretch of 42nd Street, west of Broadway in New York City is the most happening piece of show biz real estate in the world. On one side of the street is the refurbished new Amsterdam theater, where Disney’s The Lion King, a stage version of Simba’s tale that opened to raves in November, is the hottest selling show in Broadway history.
At significant financial investment (The Lion King’s $20 million price tag was the highest in Broadway history at the time of its release) the expansion of the Disney brand to include commercial interest in Times Square tourism appears mutually beneficial; as the tourists flock to Times Square, they have the opportunity to invest in commercial aspects of the company that cleaned it up, through ticket sales and merchandise purchased at the 42nd Street Disney Company store.
The commercialization of Broadway as represented by The Lion King may disturb those for whom the stage is a sacred space, for fear that the marketing hand of Mickey Mouse may be quashing artistic freedom. Taymor repeatedly stated in interviews that the understanding with the Disney corporation was that she was allowed her creative freedom, and they were allowed to oversee her process. Rather than threaten to compromise her artistic vision, the arrangement Disney reached with Taymor was that in the event of dissent, they could part company rather than leave either party unsatisfied. Ultimately, Taymor was allowed almost complete creative control, albeit supervised. This agreement may be seen to protect the interests of both involved parties. Yet while it is far too easy to look at The Lion King as an extremely artistic commercial endeavor, a less cynical view might be to see how the Disney brand draws those inexperienced with theatre into the seats, planting seeds of love for the stage arts in audience members previously unmoved by live action art. “The Lion King is going to be seen, in this country and around the world, by masses of children and adults unacquainted with either her brand of theatrical invention or with the magical possibilities of theatre itself.” Experimenting with Broadway, reassured by the familiar Disney branding of the show, parents and children may gain exposure to an art form they otherwise may not have accessed due to its often alienating, highbrow façade.
The mid-1990s were the perfect time for the marriage of a proven commercial formula with more expansive artistry. The success of the film version of The Lion King, with additional interest raised by its marketing campaigns, created a product that fit neatly within the schema of the Disney musical. Investing in Times Square to promote a proper playground for its latest brand offshoot, Disney created a viable creative space in which they could still pursue commercial returns. The stage musical of The Lion King itself similarly expands the potential of the space inhabited by both the film and the then nascent concept of Disney on Broadway. In adapting this film for the stage, Julie Taymor discarded the processed safety of the film and saved the essence of the story, preferring to present it as accessible due to its international applications. Additions to the score by Lebo M permitted this permutation without isolating those who enjoyed the Tim Rice/Elton John music made familiar by the film. Expansion is perhaps the best phraseology employed when discussing how the stage adaptation differs from the film, and the possibilities created for the Disney brand by that difference. The marriage of Disney’s domestic appeal to the Asian and African elements of The Lion King permits audiences to experience not only theatre, but also the world, in a trustworthy environment. The commercialization of art seems mostly unpalatable, but in cases such as The Lion King, in which it exposes inaccessible audiences to major creative forces, one may be more willing to accept the branding of Broadway as a somewhat manageable adaptation of the times.

Pictures are easier to read

2008-05-30T15:46:00.001-07:00

2008-05-27T07:49:00.000-07:00

All college graduates, barring allergies, should receive a puppy upon graduation. Right hand, handshake; left hand, diploma; right hand, leash. my delightful monster chloe is reclining in my lap like a playboy centerfold, eyes rolled back in her head, tongue lolling, saving my sanity.
I tend to get emotional/nostalgic/melancholy when I blog. While that seemed appropriate for Deadjournal/Xanga/Livejournal, blogspot is a blog for ADULTS. ADULTS modulate their emotions! So, I shall say that the past week has been a whirlwind of irritation, immediate sentimentality, relief and cleaning products. I possess a bachelor of arts and a slight sunburn on my chest (from where the robe and the hood separated, forming a v, or a heart shape- both relevant symbols.)
It was quite easy for me to get emotional, but as my mom pointed out- in a week or two we'll all mostly be doing the same things we were doing for the past eight semesters- except we'll be compensated handsomely for our work, and we'll be in brooklyn, not poughkeepsie.

i am already getting scolded for blogging when i should be doing laundry. I think i might start craigslisting for my own apartment today.

RT, IYSSSS, etc.

2008-05-15T10:07:00.001-07:00

So --
My academic career in film is virtually completed. The friends/family screening of the senior projects was yesterday and was relatively well attended. Of course I arrived late and loudly, with Nancy and Randi in tow, but we made it through the two and a half hours without too much fidgeting.
I was definitely more preoccupied during this screening than during the academic review, probably because the film material wasn't as fresh/exciting as it had been that night, partially out of the inflated self worth that led me to get very huffy about who was or was not in attendance. It may just be a bruise to my insatiable self serving tendencies, but I'm a wee bit heartbroken that certain people didn't make the effort to show up last night... the film's fifteen minutes long and it is my whole heart and year's dedication.
I've been having a lot of issues with overinflated ideas of respect/disrespect lately, which I think might just be a coping mechanism I've developed to ease the transition from school to post school. But I think I've used the word disrespectful more times in the past three days than in the past three years. Why do I feel so self important that a different prioritizing can be perceived as an aggregious personal affront?

Because I'm tired, hungover (yay ryan's 21st!) and procrastinating on my final academic paper, EVER.
yeesh.

But yeah, it is what it is, and the films were absolutely incredible last night. i feel honored to be a part of the program.

an essay on my spring break.

2008-03-18T17:32:00.001-07:00

Bored bored in the emergency room: spring break 2008
By caitlin mae
On Tuesday, a girl named caitlin woke up with a big smile on her face.
"I get to go horseback riding today!" she exclaimed. Caitlin was going
to her friend nancy's house and they were going to go on a trail ride
together. Caitlin worKed very hard all morning on her homework so
that she could have the most fun Tuesday she'd had in a long time.
This was, after all, spring break, and everyone knows spring break is
a wonderful time for overstressed college students to escape to the
tropics and in no way abuse alcohol, marijuana, or the personhood of
women.

Caitlin was reading her text book on film theory when her phone began
to buzz. "who could that be?" she questioned. She looked down at her
phone to check the caller id. What a surprise! It was her friend Ryan,
who had been over to watch a movie the night before. "I wonder if he
forgot anything?" mused caitlin. She picked up the phone.
"hello caitlin, I am outside your house."
"oh," said caitlin, "what can I do for you?"
"well, this is kind of awkward." said Ryan. "I think my toe might fall
off. Can you take me to the hospital?"
"oh dear!" caitlin exclaimed, thinking of her horseback riding date.
" If you can't that is okay." sighed Ryan.
"no,we should take care of your toe." said caitlin, grabbing her car
keys. "let's go to the emergency room. It will be a spring break
adventure!"

So caitlin and Ryan went to the hospital to find out if Ryan's toe
needed to be amputated. While he was seeing the doctor, Caitlin went
exploring and found out that the hospital had a pretty killer gift
shop. She bought Ryan a small, soft, brown stuffed bunny and a purple
and yellow get well soon balloon with a smiley face on it to make him
feel better.

Ryan and caitlin's friend Clyde had heard that Ryan was at the
hospital. Even though he thought this particular hospital was scary,
Clyde was locked out of the house, and decided to overcome his
obstacles, face his fears, chase his dreams and come wait with caitlin
while they sawed Ryan's big toe off. While she waited for Clyde to
arrive, caitlin drank a diet coke and decided to write a story about
her spring break adventure. This is that story.
THE END

Sent from my iPhone.

Sadie in the Jungle

2008-02-01T14:06:00.000-08:00

A film by Erica Tronstad.
I did cinematography!
xoxc

Good Enough To Eat

2007-12-14T11:29:00.001-08:00

Directing Class Final.
Vassar College Film Department.
written/directed/edited by Caitlin Mae Burke.
photographed by Erica Tronstad

Uninteresting film developments

2007-11-25T20:16:00.000-08:00

I'm sort of iffy on how I want this blog to "interact," as it were.
I don't really have the ennui-angsty-emo lifestory blog... But I have a photoblog and a pragueblog and I guess this is a filmblog?
So, updates on Noseprint Pictures, Caitlin Mae Burke, &etc.

Noseprint Pictures' Coronation Mass

IMG_8276
Originally uploaded by js wright

Noseprint Pictures Coming Out Party
Melissa Esner and I went to the book release party for her Harper Collins "colleague," Jeff Yamaguchi. Well, really for his new book- Working For the Man. It's all sorts of hilarious and we got to dress up and network and drink g&ts. We were the luckiest girls on the lower east side.

Riding Tall
The little doc that could will have its first screening (even though it's still very much a rough, wild thing) this Friday at the Southlands Foundation Gala. I get to wear a nice dress and be surrounded by horsie folk that I usually see covered in mud and other unmentionables.

Burning in the Sun
So the documentary I spent much of the summer subtitling is growing wings and taking its first steps out of the nest. There's apparently a rough cut out, and they're having a screening this Sunday, Dec. 2 at Magnetic Field in Brooklyn. The screening starts at 5:30 PM and there's great drink specials.

etc
Five minute narrative on sexy cannibalism

no alarms, no surprises

2007-11-13T15:48:00.001-08:00

this is real life, and cinema, and everything is getting intermingled in the lowered lights.
this is where i'm going to tell the story of the little film that could, but it just hasn't yet. The little film that could and the women in my life now and the magnificent steeds and their infinite patience (with those who need it.)

I have been on the verge of tears all day, because I think I'm on the verge of something much bigger than myself, and that is absolutely terrifying.
This is a placeholder- story is coming when I have a moment to think it out. for now, no alarms, no surprises please

2007-10-07T19:39:00.000-07:00

my camera broke today.
my heart broke today.
these two may or may not be interrelated... I just feel lonelylost

Film 211 final

2007-08-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

Dirty Pictures, Deadly Pictures:
Reoccurring Themes of Sex and Death and Their Relationship to the Image
in Three Films by Peter Greenaway

Caitlin Burke
Film 211-52, Meltzer
Final Paper
May 18, 2006
999214658
Benjamin Franklin is often quoted as saying “the only two certainties in life are death and taxes.” For a film maker, only the prior is really of interest to an audience, and so another certainty must be found. Director Peter Greenaway considers the action that brings about the opposite of life to be the completion of the pair. “We live in a deeply sensuous world, and I think if we respect cinema we should let cinema be a part of that… What is a film itself it is again a form of translation of human experiences, again very subjectively organized.” (Badt) Peter Greenaway sees the essentials of existence as revolving around sex and death. Yet as a former landscape painter and current film maker, the importance of the image (both the presentation of those themes and cinematic significance of his technique) is raised parallel to these other two, creating a triumvirate whose interactions with one another and combinations are ever present in Greenaway’s explanation of his created worlds. Comparison of three notable Greenaway films: The Belly of an Architect (1987,) The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover (1989,) and A Zoo: A Zed and Two Noughts (1985) reveals the presence of these themes and their presentation visually.
What is a film if not a collection of images? Who is a filmmaker as an auteur if his stamp cannot be applied to those images? Peter Greenaway’s films are immediately recognizable from a catalog of camera movements and compositions. The trademarks Greenaway uses in establishing the images of his film may be simplified to a long duration tracking or dolly shot, very few close ups, and a general long shot focal distance during moments when the cinematic convention would move the camera closer for greater intimacy. An example of the familiar tracking shot, usually accompanied by instrumental score, is repeated throughout The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover (1989) Immediately following the intertitles (pages of the restaurant’s menu) the camera begins its tracking shot either at the front of the kitchen, following the same path past the women plucking the feathers off fowl, the shirtless sauce maker, and Pup singing his solo aria. It then passes the divide into the restaurant with a notable color and saturation switch from the muted green of the kitchen to the vibrant crimson of the dining room. Passing by inconsequential diners with relative speed, the camera then dollies in to Albert Spica’s table, but never closer than a medium long shot. It is then that the first cut in the scene takes place, after an almost two minute long single shot. This sort of imagery is repeated in The Belly of an Architect, moving from a profile of the pantheon past a fountain at relatively the same pace as the identical shot in The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, and, similarly, accompanied by a classical score. Without pause the camera moves past an outdoor café to rest upon a large banquet table with Stourley Kracklite, the protagonist, seated in the center of the composition. The scene then cuts to a closer shot of a large, architecturally designed cake that is brought to the table from the foreground (while the actors remain distanced from the lens and less in focus.) This appearance identifies the film as by Greenaway, as does the limited yet highly symbolic color palette and the removal of the camera from moments of emotional significance, to be discussed in context later.
Peter Greenaway is undoubtedly attuned to the images of his film. Frequently in published works, he mentions how film has become simply a visual adaptation of the novel; everything in the film falls subordinate to plot. It is Greenaway’s attempt, therefore, to convey to the audience the importance of the image, putting emphasis on the subtle and solely visual as vital storytelling mechanisms. (Badt) Were one to turn off the sound of a Peter Greenaway film, his colors alone could imbue the overarching context of the scene. Peter Greenaway’s limited palette of significant colors includes green, blue, and red. The use of green in the three films to be discussed is the most complicated in that its symbolism is somewhat inconsistent. Overall, green can be seen to represent death, either current or predicted. Examples of this can be seen in The Belly of an Architect when the green light of the Xerox machine flashes as Kracklite photocopies the stomachs of statuary out of his obsession over his own terminal ailment. It may be seen again filling the large windows at the museum out of which Kracklite flings himself to his death. A Zed and Two Noughts uses flashing green light as well, although more obviously connected to death, as it is the color that illuminates Oswald’s decomposing subjects for their periodic photographing. The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover brings a complication to the significance of the color green, as it is the muted tone cast throughout the kitchen. As most of Georgina and Michael’s sexual encounters occur in the kitchen, one would consider the green to symbolize fertility and life rather than death and decomposition. Yet one must consider the spaces where Georgina and Michael fornicate. Generally, it is in pantries or meat lockers, surrounded by carcasses ready to be recycled from their death state to providing life- nourishment- for the patrons of the restaurant. Additionally, when Spica force feeds Pup his coat buttons and cuts out his belly button, the boy is wearing his green kitchen smock, even though the thematic color of the outside of the restaurant is blue. The color blue in Greenaway films can be read as conveying harsh reality. Spica wears a blue sash and is cast in a blue light as he smears his debtor with excrement outside the restaurant. As Alba’s leg is being amputated in an early scene of A Zed and Two Noughts, (as well as when the doctor takes her other leg) the hospital room is bathed in blue light. Additionally, as Oliver paces alone in his house, with not even the television available as company, the entire setting takes on a blue tone to convey the reality of his grief and solitude. Red, like green, is up to a little more variance of interpretation, although it generally appears to represent the inverse of green: life and vitality. The dining room at Le Hollandaise where Spica and the other customers come to sustain themselves with food is painted a brilliant crimson; additionally, as Spica is a co-owner of the restaurant, it is his “livelihood.” When Alba discusses her pregnancy with Oswald and Oliver in A Zed and Two Noughts, her room is filled with red furniture and a red glow, similar to the lighting when either of the twins sleeps with Venus De Milo, reaffirming their living state in contrast to their deceased wives. Very few of the scenes involving Stourley Kracklite have him outfitted in red, as he is dying, but his wife Louisa (carrying a new life inside her belly rather than a tumor that will end her life) is frequently outfitted in the color, and in the majoring of her meetings with Caspasian, the man who will provide her the opportunity to start a new life without her husband, the draperies are red. Following these color patterns throughout Greenaway’s career allows one to incorporate the image into the plot with a greater depth.
Having spent a significant amount of time discussing cinematographic images employed by the director in saturating his film with meaning, now it is time to turn attention to the “image” or representation and its importance. In each of these films, a representation becomes almost an obsessive focus, and it is often the work of a celebrated classical artist that shapes the behavior and outward appearance of the film’s subjects. The character most obsessed with images is Stourley Kracklite in The Belly of an Architect. Not only is his entire artistic purpose centered on celebrating an architect (Etienne-Louis Boullee) who never finished a building, but he is also consumed with representations of the body part whose rebellion will lead to his eventual demise: his belly. (Lawrence, 27) Kracklite photocopies the stomachs of representations of architectural greats (the emperor Hadrian, Boullee) and draws his ailments in order to illustrate his pain for his doctors. Kracklite’s fascination with Boullee seems appropriate in that it mirrors his own creative impotence; in the scene in which Kracklite catches Caspasian in the act with his wife, one cannot tell if he is enraged because his conjugal property is being stolen, or because Caspasian is using his model of a Boullee lighthouse as an enlarged surrogate phallus. The fact that his two image obsessions somewhat mirror each other in form (as the repeated form in Boullee’s sketches is a dome quite reminiscent of Kracklite’s bloated belly) marries his creative life and impending death and solidifies the reality that it is likely Kracklite will go the way of Boullee and die without many major constructions to carry his image forward into the future.
Oliver and Oswald are similarly consumed by images in a need to placate grief, yet in their case presented in A Zed and Two Noughts, it is images of the dead that complete this desire, similar to the way they complete one another symmetrically as separated conjoined twins. The classical artist who lends his style of imagery to the construction of the film’s images is Johannes Vermeer, with whom the doctor who has amputated Alba Bewick’s leg is fascinated. Whenever Alba or the twins converse with the doctor (who, as the film points out, is named after a famous copier of Vermeer’s work) the lighting in the scene is amber and sourced from the lower left corner of a frame, similar to the way Vermeer depicted light in his paintings. This is most notable in the scene in which Oliver and Oswald approach the doctor to ask him to “complete them”- to return them to their “natural” state as conjoined twins. The two sit naked on either side of a couch with two large portraits behind their heads, and rise in unison when the doctor arrives, disrupting the symmetry of the composition. The lighting in this scene is notably Vermeer, which seems suitable for the director, as “With Vermeer, everything is ambiguous, and this is what makes him an ideal figure for Greenaway.” (Lawrence, 85) The symmetrical, centered composition is a trademark of Greenaway’s theatrically composed scenes, and reappears when the twins sit with Alba in her hospital bed, one on either side, and when they join her in bed at home after her second amputation. Each brother puts the leg closest to Alba outside the covers to show her the scars left by their separation; in a way, this gives her the two legs she is missing due to amputation and completes each member of the composition so that the whole is symmetrical.
The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover portrays the scum of the earth, dressed to the nines and playing gentlemen. Albert Spica and his band of crooks pattern themselves after the Frans Hals painting that hangs in the restaurant almost directly behind their table, inviting comparison between these despicable characters and the more upstanding gentlemen depicted in the art: the abject and the genteel appear in the same clothing. (D’Arcy) The painting (The Company of St. George, 1616) depicts a company of officers, rank made apparent by their red and white sashes, staring out at the audience. In its place in the film, it is almost as if these faces are bearing witness to Spica’s deplorable behavior and condemning him and his posse for sullying the uniforms of dignity these men wear so proudly. Notably, the painting always appears first in the tracking shot before the camera reaches Spica’s table, inviting comparison between the two exceptionally disparate groups dressed in the same costume. In the final scene of the film, when Albert is alone in the restaurant before he is to be served Michael, his table is set up so that when the crowd of those he has harmed files in behind the gurney bearing his cooked victim, the men in the Company of St. George continue the collective of condemnation, as the expressions of those living and those painted show equally critical consideration of Albert Spica, isolated at his table. As so much of the film is centered on the shock of “well dressed people behaving badly” (D’Arcy) it is fitting that the comparison between the proper gentlemen in the Hals painting and Spica and his lackeys addresses how by his garb Spica aspires to respect, yet his lewd, inappropriate behavior always sullies his image.
The colors green and red, symbolic of death and life, are often presented concurrently in the visual composition of Peter Greenaway’s films. Similarly, the incorporation of end of life elements with creation presents a continuous, regenerating depiction of existence, emphasizing the inevitability of death and thus, mankind’s fascination with it. It has been noted that Peter Greenaway’s fascination is deeply rooted in the concepts of eros and thanatos- the conception through passion and the ceasing to exist. “Many people say my films only deal with death. I think they are correct. But there are only two things which really count: sex and death. What else is important? One can disguise sex as romance or love but it’s always about sexual desire. Every one of us has been touched by death in some form already.” (Bachholz, 56) The connection drawn between sex and death in Peter Greenaway’s films is notable in that its communion between a fundament of the creation of life and the complete absence of it. The parallelism between what is growing inside Stourley Kracklite in The Belly of an Architect (a tumor, bringing his death) and what is growing in his wife Louisa (a baby, new life) is a harsh contrast. When Louisa reveals to Kracklite that Flavia, her lover’s sister, has photographed her nude with her pregnant stomach, Kracklite explodes, calling her indecent in showing this form, even though he is sitting on the floor amidst a veritable carpeting of belly photographs and replications either of his own stomach or others he has captured. The reality is that what is growing inside Stourley is the truly indecent, abject growth, but in his own fear of his demise he must objectify her growing life as an outrageous display. In a similar vein, the abject is called to the forefront in the final scene of The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover wherein Albert Spica is forced to “eat his words” although not in the same very literal way that he has forced Michael to do so (by ramming pages of a book down his throat until he suffocates.) In an earlier scene, before Georgina and Michael flee to their oasis of safety in the book depository, Albert tears apart the kitchen searching for them, screaming repeatedly how when he finds Michael he is going to kill him and eat him. With the first part of this satisfied before he enters the dining room for what will be his last supper, all that is left for Albert to fulfill his threat is the latter portion, which Georgina has conveniently arranged for him with the help of Richard, the cook. By ingesting his wife’s lover, Spica must not only swallow his own threat but also the actuality of his actions- this man is dead by his hand, and his corpse is being used to perpetuate Spica’s life (by providing nourishment in the form of food.) Even though all food is dead before it is served, the reality of eating this man Spica had encountered during life brings forth the striking realization of his lack of life, and how by ingesting him he is making the man who has stolen his wife a part of him. “The idea that, for life to flourish, we need death, is not original, but is still deserves attention.” (Gras, 30) Granted, after Albert chokes down a few bites of Michael’s flesh, Georgina ends his life with his own pistol. She calls attention to the abject nature of the situation by closing the film with the epithet “Cannibal.” Although all food is dead, processed matter, the idea of eating a person one has killed and thus sustaining oneself through the death and digestion of another is an ultimately objectionable principle.
Death comes immediately in A Zed and Two Noughts; the opening sequence depicts the car accident that claims both Oliver and Oswald Deuce’s wives. The first dialogue of the film is an interchange between Oliver and Oswald in which the later asks about how quickly the decaying process will begin, and specifics of what happens first in decomposition. Like in many other significant emotional moments in Greenaway films, this scene is made clinical by the long shot held for the duration of the conversation on the characters, keeping a long focal distance that makes intimacy with the twins impossible, even in this moment of their greatest vulnerability. The twins find different fascinations following the deaths of their wives. Oliver screens an eight part film series on evolution, and devotes his time to understanding the origins of life. Oswald, on the other hand, turns his attention to death, and begins to photograph the decomposition of a variety of plants and animals, initially unconnected, but eventually those that he can in some way associate with his wife: prawns, the last food she ever bought, a swan, much like the one that killed her, and other black and white animals such as a Dalmatian and an illicitly received zebra, the subject of much of the film’s fascination. In his attempt to fully understand the new physical condition of his wife that he will never be able to experience directly, Oswald becomes so obsessed with interval photography of decomposition that when the doctor presents him with the chance to observe a specimen identical to his wife’s condition (the prostitute Venus De Milo, approximately the same age and at the same point in her pregnancy as was Oswald’s wife) the moral implications of photographing this decomposition are forgotten in his eagerness for it to assist in his grieving process. Unfortunately, both Venus and Alba, who had willingly volunteered to serve as Oswald’s crowning specimen, are soon out of reach. Oliver and Oswald themselves must take their place in photographically documenting the human decomposition process, although what benefit it would do in aiding Oswald through his grief after he himself is deceased is unclear. The twins prepare themselves as the final specimens in L’escargot, Alba’s property, but after they have taken the lethal injection, the snails of the garden short circuit the camera equipment, rendering both deaths entirely in vain.
As the ultimate creative force, both in the sense of inspiration as well as remaking the tangible, sex is a device consistently preoccupying Greenaway characters and allowing them different venues for expression. Greenaway views of eros and thanatos (sex and death) as only essentials of existence; they are what are certain to occur as well as the major creative and destructive forces of life in the universe. Therefore, it is not unusual in Greenaway films when sex is paired with death. Whenever Louisa and Kracklite fornicate, the conversation either turns to Boullee, the deceased architect, or Kracklite’s own demise. In the first scene of the film, a fast moving landscape of the Italian countryside is intercut with scenes of Louisa and Kracklite having sex on the train. The next cut is back to the countryside, and then to an image of an Italian graveyard. After Kracklite has finished, and the two discuss their trip to Italy, the next cut takes the scene to an image of a mausoleum, the camera panning across several burial sites. When they are about to have intercourse in their Roman hotel, the conversation turns to an emasculation of Stourley for his relatively low production of architecture and his obsession with a man who has created almost as little as he has. (Lehman, 73) Louisa brings up the topic of what could possibly be displayed at Kracklite’s post-mortem retrospective, and it is at this point that Kracklite’s first stomach pains (later revealed to be terminal cancer) are made apparent. Stourley questions why Louisa must discuss death during sex, and her reply is “Everyone in Rome talks about death.” This incorporation of morbidity into the bedroom is not the first and certainly will not be last occasion in Greenaway’s films. However, his treatment through the lens of both Kracklite’s revealing of his illness in the bedroom and Louisa’s revelation of her pregnancy is notably sterile. In both cases, Louisa is portrayed in long shot, and Stourley is so far removed from the camera that he is not in focus. In the pregnancy scene, he is situated in the bath and framed by a doorway dividing him from Louisa, who is in the foreground. When she returns to leave him for Caspasian and his illness is finally discussed, he is seated on a chair in the center of the composition but reflected in a mirror. By removing the personal connection available through closer shots, Peter Greenaway brings a more critical analysis to these pertinent moments, refusing to allow the audience the intimacy with the characters that a close camera would provide and thus necessitating a more cerebral, situational relationship. For the creative being, death either signifies unrealized creativity in action or a cease of production. It is a realization of the mortality of those without surviving works or incomplete immortality of those who have born them- either way, art suffers after death. In this way, the conception of art and the conception of life, one through the creation of the image and one through intercourse, may be understood through the concept of The Belly of an Architect as a connection between sex and creativity, both equally threatened by death.
This connection between the nude and the deceased or abnormal body is best exemplified in A Zed and Two Noughts. “Our interest in the nude, he [Greenaway] suggests is more than sexual: it also has to do with our knowledge of our own mortality. Many of the bodies he shows us are dead, or at least… acting dead. Since these are not sexual bodies on display, they can and do depart from the usual cultural standards of beauty.”(Woods, 162) Alba Bewick, the focal sexual interest of both Oliver and Oswald Deuce, spends ninety percent of the film bedridden, her body positioned similar to a corpse. When she is out of bed, her usual and grotesque form disrupts the symmetry of the composition orchestrated both by Greenaway’s camera and Oswald and Oliver’s increasing similarities. While Alba is a sexual object, as she is so frequently represented as dead or incomplete she may escape the boundaries of traditional sexual attractiveness. As Alba is an amputee, two of her limbs have died, and the audience is drawn to this asymmetrical character as a sex object to understand her mortality and, consequently, their own in terms of sexuality. “Greenaway’s insistence on the body’s inescapable vulgarity at once liberates it (and him) from the structures of middle class respectability and lowers it by calling attention to the less exalted attributes of the human animal.” (Lawrence, 49) It is this reasoning that allows Oswald to consider two women he has had sexual relations with (one for whom it is questionable whether he has fathered her child) to be the study specimens in his exploration of decomposition, as the woman whose body was the previous venue for his sexual encounters is now deceased as well. Just as Oswald considers Venus and Alba to be perfect samples for his study, Greenaway’s camera takes on a very clinical edge when addressing Oswald and Oliver’s feelings on sex or death. The closest the camera gets to the twins during a sexual moment is when they complete Alba by discussing their original conjunction at birth, yet this is still a full body shot, despite the significance of the material being revealed. When the twins discover they are the fathers (or the father, as the medical implications of two men fathering twins seem unlikely) of Alba’s children, the discussion is filmed through a doorframe, creating great distance between the camera and the subjects at this very monumental occasion. As was addressed before, whenever the death of the wives is to be discussed, whoever is doing the talking is shown in long shot, as is Alba when mentioning the last food Oswald’s wife bought was prawns. Prior to this discussion, Alba has been show in her bed in alternating medium shot and medium close up, but when the material becomes of a sensitive nature the camera pulls back, discontinuing a close association with the characters. A quote from Greenaway can certainly explain this objective treatment by the camera of the tender moments in this film: “All of my films are about loss in some way- a Zed and Two Noughts is about a very serious loss, obviously- and although I do not feel extraordinarily emotional about it, somewhere in the back of my mind I want to explore the consideration society gives to cancer as a disease, what we do about it, what it means in our lives…so much information gets lost when somebody dies.” (Ranvaud, 45) The grotesque as sexual object and removal from intimate imagery found in A Zoo: A Zed and Two Noughts perpetuates the established tenets that make this film notably a creation of Peter Greenaway.
Abjectification, the making of the utterly disgusting out of the formerly attractive, is the name of the game in The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. Albert Spica is free to sodomize Georgina in the privacy of their home, but it is when he openly discusses his sexual matters at the dinner table, creating an abject sexuality through his frequent references to coprophilia, his material is made objectionable and forced upon Georgina as the receptacle. However, the film warns, breaking away from the abject is not necessarily a positive decision; when Georgina reclaims her sexuality and has the affair with Michael, violence and death are the results. Aside from the questionable nature of having sex inside a meat locker (connecting the potential creation of life by the lovers and its destruction by a butcher) sex and waste are freely compared and associated throughout much of the film. Spica openly discusses receiving infections from toilet seats in the same breath as he considers Georgina the one responsible for pleasuring him. He aptly draws a connection between food and sex, justifying his discussion as appropriate for a restaurant: the positioning of the genitalia so close to the rectum almost invites the commingling of “the dirty bits” with “the nasty bits” and providing rationalization for his coprophilia, in which he gets a sexual kick by blurring the boundaries between food and its eventual end, excrement. The abject has free reign throughout the dining room in the Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, but frank discussion of infertility (or Georgina’s genetic death, as it were) is absolutely taboo. When Spica forces Michael to join the diners at their table, a three shot of Michael, Georgina, and Spica is held while Spica forces Georgina to tell Michael of her great wealth and luxury provided to her by her husband. Yet when the conversation switches to Georgina’s exceptional gynecologist, who has assured her that due to her several miscarriages she will never bear children (causing the end of the Spica line and the death of the family name) the fact that she is not given focal significance in the frame becomes apparent. This most serious discussion of sexuality, forbidden by Spica who merely minutes earlier had engaged in a conversation about eating testicles, is shot closer than the typical Peter Greenaway moment of intimacy, but as Georgina is merely one of three equally framed characters in the shot, the emotional connection is still made more difficult. Discussion of sex is a free for all in The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, but when it is at all connected to death, genetic or physical, it is made immediately taboo by Spica, suggesting his brutishness goes against Peter Greenaway’s celebration of eros and thanatos on an equal plane.
A discussion of these themes in Peter Greenaway’s films could continue endlessly; as his body of work increases, that which he considers the most important thematic elements will undoubtedly reappear. But as for the three films addressed, it is apparent that the priority given to an image and its representations of sex and death in the film follows Greenaway’s cinematic imagery and creates a recognizable, consistent thread that runs throughout his work, regardless of specific topic. Using symbolic colors and repeated camera techniques allows the audience to understand a work as Greenaway’s and to then pay suitable attention to his incorporation of sex with death, of the eros and the thanatos, and the unbreakable bonds between the two as the major constructive and destructive forces of the universe.
Works Cited:

Badt, Karen. “Peter Greenaway Holds Court: An interview at the Venice Film Festival.” Film Criticism, Winter 2004 vol. 29 No. 2

D’Arcy, Chantal. “The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover.” Literature Film Quarterly, Vol. 27. No.2 April 1999

Gras, Vernon and Marguerite, eds. Peter Greenaway, Interviews. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. 2000

Lawrence, Amy. The Films of Peter Greenaway. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1997.

Lehman, Peter. “Review: Being Naked Playing Dead: The Art of Peter Greenaway.” Film Quarterly, Vol. 52, No. 1 (Autumn, 1998) pp. 72-74

Films Referenced:

A Zoo: A Zed and Two Noughts. (Greenaway, Peter. 1985)

The Belly of the Architect. (Greenaway, Peter. 1987)

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. (Greenaway, Peter. 1989)

The Masculine, the Feminine, and the Sea Worthy

2007-08-15T21:53:00.000-07:00

The Masculine, the Feminine, and the Sea Worthy:
Attention to Gender Roles in Jean Vigo’s L’Atalante

Caitlin Burke
999214658
September 30, 2005
Boys will be boys, as the common adage prescribes. Without too much extrapolation, one may conclude that similarly, girls will be girls. As World War II upset the gender equity in most involved nations, gender roles were forgone in favor of pragmatism. Yet, pre-World War II love stories usually adhere to a stringent outline of trite occurrences: boy and girl are married in the church, with a white dress and a tuxedo, and everyone lives happily ever after in a house with many children. Husband goes to work, Wife keeps house. This may anger the more modernist train of thought that entitles women to the same agency granted to men, but considered contextually, this perspective does not defy tradition. Jean Vigo’s L’Atalante, made in 1934 (just as the storm clouds of the great conflict began to brew) would do well for itself to follow these conventions and exist as a relatively simple romance. What makes L’Atalante remarkable in this sense is its subversion of the expected. Dudley Andrews indicates in his article “Fever of an Infectious Film: L'Atalante and the Aesthetics of Spontaneity” that the titular ship herself possesses characteristics of both the masculine and feminine. (Andrews, 63)However, those aboard the ship, even when they disembark, cannot maintain a duality of gender. They are human, after all, and naturally must ascribe to one or the other. Nevertheless, throughout L’Atalante, socially prescribed gender roles are subverted and reversed by the three main characters: Jean, Juliette, and Pere Jules.
It is a maritime tradition to refer to the ship or boat, an inanimate object, with female pronouns. Because inanimate objects are generally genderless, the context of such a reference is ignored and acknowledged simply as a convention of the language of the sea. While a ship may always be prescribed the female gender, this does not take into account the abstract fulfillment of both gender roles by the vessel. Actively, Atalante the ship takes on the male role as the penetrator- bearing through the waves, pushing its way through a series of locks and canals. In a passive sense, the ship is female. She is under the physical control of a crew of men who dictate her every action. But avoiding sexual associations, the ship Atalante is feminine below decks, serving as a resting place for her “family” and providing them protection from the elements. The physical nature of the ship has a duality of gender roles as well: she is, like a mother, a home; yet like a patriarch, she is the means of employment and the sole source of income for her crew-family.
Early in their time aboard the ship, even whilst boarding the ship, Jean and Juliette effortlessly present the ideal of masculine and feminine. Like a proper bride, Juliette enters the harbor in her white dress, and as tradition dictates, her groom “carries her over the threshold” of their new marital dwelling. Granted, Juliette swings over to her home on the water on the boom of the mast, but Jean has brought her over, albeit through mechanical manipulation, and thus the wedding tradition is safely enacted. At this point, gender roles are established concurrently with sexual roles: Jean is male, masculine, and the husband/dominant/provider; Juliette is female, feminine and the wife/submissive/caretaker, and Jules is also a representation of the male/masculine. The ship’s fourth crew member is also male, yet his role in the film is so negligible that for the purpose of this paper, his gender significance will not be discussed. He is referred to as “the child” and exists in relative neutrality. Even the way in which they refer to each other carries gender connotations, as Juliette is the “boss-lady”, Jean is the “boss” or dominant, and Jules is “papa”. Juliette, like any good housewife, sets to work in her unusual home at traditional domestic tasks, and attempts to gather the ship’s laundry, indignant that they have left this task dormant for so long. It is here that the first step outside the boundaries of gender roles occurs. Jules appears quite frustrated that Juliette wants to do his wash, as expresses he has always done his own before and the addition of a woman to his environment will not limit his self sufficiency. Here, Jules refuses to give up his traditionally domestic work of cleaning laundry, yet it is not apparently so much subversion because he is fighting for control; his birthright as one gendered male.
Nowhere more in L’Atalante is there a better visual and contextual representation of the lack of concern over society’s gender prescriptions then right before the ship docks in Paris. Jules arrives late, and Juliette as provider hands him his plate; the crew eats as a family. The scene is quite domestic, barrign the fact that it takes place in the hold of a ship. This subtle deviation from normalcy paves the way for further deviations. The framing of the shot shows nothing out of the ordinary; in fact, it almost over emphasizes the attention to which the characters are behaving appropriately. “The first third of the film is dominated by Jean’s authority and his desire. As spectators we are all too ready to accommodate him and his desire to frame and possess Juliette.” (Andrews, 72) Juliette is constantly framed by two objects: first her husband and the wall, then two wine bottles, then Jean and the right side wine bottle. The men in the scene may have one side blocked off by a wall or another individual, but they are usually not completely framed, as is Juliette. Interestingly, that which frames her is usually an object of the household- a pitcher, a wine bottle, a chair, as if she is being fenced in by her domestic position. The lighting is consistent with how it has appeared throughout the rest of the film, with bright fills illuminating Juliette and setting her apart visually from the men, who are allowed to exist in greater depth. As the meal ends and the characters exit, the strict control over gender roles dictated by this domestic activity is loosened. Juliette crosses the screen to sit at her sewing machine, and she is shot so that she appears to diagonally intersect all of the other vertical planes in the image; in a sense, she is free. However, the camera follows her in her descent down the stairs, as if she can not escape its watchful eye. As there are few camera movements in the film, this motion is significant and noticeable. She is seen for one of the first times in the film in a less direct, bright lighting, and her typical glow is notably absent. Jules follows her, still shot slightly from below. This gives the impression that his size and masculinity are notable contrasts against and are imposing upon Juliette’s more delicate female form. When he sits next to her at the sewing machine, although there is still notable contrast between his broad back and hers, they are on the same plane. “At Juliette’s sewing machine, he is quickly by turns more domestic than she… the narrative cannot hope to enclose either this character or this actor; he is a signifier of the excess of life over history.”(Andrews, 61) Throughout this sequence, the characters are either depicted in a two-shot or a medium or long shot. This is a marked difference from the rest of the film, which frequently cuts to medium close ups of Juliette’s face. In this scene, as she and Jules take a departure from their gender expectations, Juliette does not have to play the role of the idealized female, and can be a major player in a scene without being subject to an unhindered gaze. The uniform view of both Juliette and Jules, as well as the uniform lighting, establishes that at this point in the scene, they are equals, neither dominant nor submissive. “This is the film’s most important development: the emergence of Jules as the character of beauty and mystery, displacing Juliette as the primary object of our gaze.” (Andrews, 73)
Still ambiguously presenting both characters within their associated genders, the sequence picks up as these conventions are left behind. After Jules is sitting at Juliette’s level, she suggests he is accomplished in all trades, slightly poking fun at his skill at a traditionally domestic, thus feminine, task. His response is to assert his dominance, strangling her in jest; an assertion that masculine hands that create may also destroy. This very masculine gesture is the turning point of the sequence, and the point at which Jules’ departure into the noticeably feminine begins. Juliette takes on the role of the superior, and pushes Jules to the ground. He is then shot from slightly above, diminishing his size (as is typically done for Juliette.) Additionally, while he is on the floor, Jules is framed between the table leg and a chair, taking on the posture of confinement the audience has seen exhibited by Juliette mere minutes earlier. He rises, and regains his stature and masculinity, yet he is still framed by the table and wall, indicating he has not completely returned to the position of dominant male. The purgatory between genders in which Jules exists is taken advantage of by Juliette, who wraps her skirt around his waist, relegating him once again to the feminine role. A change in lighting, bringing Jules into the brighter, fuller light usually reserved for close-ups of Juliette, is a further visual indication of this role switch. Jules’ behavior takes on a more feminine tone as he models the skirt, his typical awkwardness remains, but he giggles freely and prances about, definitely not modeling machismo as the latest Parisian fashion. Juliette’s back is to the camera and the only form to gaze upon or idealize in the way that the audience had the privilege with Juliette throughout the film is the now feminized Jules. “Reaction shots of Juliette reverse her role so that suddenly we find the need to go beyond her as image of our desire.” (Andrews, 73) He is shot from above as he sings and sways his hips, diminished by this camera angle to appear smaller. Similarly, as Juliette hems the skirt, her back fills up much of the frame, commanding the amount of space in the frame previously only occupied by male characters.
Even though they play at assuming each other’s gender specified characteristics, it is all a farce. In his silliness with the skirt, Jules and Juliette get into a tugging match over the material. He then fans at her with the skirt as if she were a bull. At this point, Jules is stooped over and parallel to Juliette, indicating their parallel status with neither as dominant. It is this moment of equality that is the second turning point in the sequence and marks the return to the expected roles of masculine and feminine. After wrestling the skirt away from Jules, Juliette becomes the domestic again, handing him his laundry. His back is now to the camera, and her face is in full view, for one of the first times in this sequence. He rises in front of the camera to take back his clothes, and fills the screen, once again the imposing male form he was at the beginning of the sequence. As the sequence ends with Juliette returning to her chores and Jules to work, their return to traditional roles is not acknowledged. The camera projects its traditional angles, and the film continues on seamlessly as before this interruption.
Calling the ship Atalante home, there is relatively little that Jules, Juliette and Jean do that can truly be considered a step outside gender conventions. But what of when they take leave of the ship, and, in doing so, each other’s company? Angered by Juliette’s behavior in Paris, Jean rashly decides to set sail without her, leaving her completely removed from the nurturing confines of the Atalante. Initially, Juliette’s reaction is not outside feminine norms: she worriedly searches for the ship, and falls victim to a purse snatcher. But left without resources, Juliette does not cater any further to her role as damsel in distress. She instead takes the offensive, even if this means breaking out of her role as wife and domestic. She wanders Paris searching for work. This was not uncommon in the depression era in which the film is set, yet Vigo makes a point about the unconventional nature of Juliette’s position by casting her unemployed sympathizers as all male. Even in the throes of a depression, Vigo comments visually, few women found their way onto a work line. Meanwhile, employment has become a potential matter of concern for Jean as well. He is distraught over his desertion of his love, and it is reflected in his work and his unkempt appearance. The owner of the shipping company makes it clear to Jules that Jean’s tenure with the company will be short lived unless there is a marked improvement in his performance. This suggests a potential reversal: were he to return to Juliette, she would be both his caretaker and the provider of the singular income which would have typically been the duty of the male partner. Juliette’s absorption of both roles would certainly have proved emasculating, furthering the complications of the situation. Although modern times make conceptualizing women as weak, flighty and emotional totally inappropriate, at the loss of Juliette, Jean’s breakdown and irrational behavior could be considered a “womanly” or weak reaction to stress. Luckily, the couple’s reunification allows both to quietly return to their prescribed roles within the relationship without questioning one another’s recent gender subversions.
As desperate times call for desperate measures, unusual conditions force the usually conventional to sidestep social restrictions and act out of necessity. The unique situation in which the crew of the Atalante find themselves makes conformity to gender roles impractical. Actions are performed out of need and desire, and survival does not care much for social niceties. Because of the unconventional climate aboard and surrounding the ship in L’Atalante, it is not unseemly for Jean Vigo’s principle characters Jules, Jean and Juliette to take a cue from the dual gendered significance of the ship to ignore, subvert, and refuse to subscribe to traditionally dictated gender roles.

Works Cited:
Andrews, Dudley. “Fever of an Infectious Film: L'Atalante and the Aesthetics of Spontaneity.” Pages cited in work.

Hot DAMN! How "Tarnation" May be Ushering in a New Era of the Diary Film

2007-05-14T18:51:00.000-07:00

In capturing the real, the artificial means through which an occurrence is recorded must be in constant maturation, as to keep up with the needs of the one casting his butterfly net over reality to enclose it in a labeled mason jar and exhibit it. This is especially true of cinema verite, which can easily be considered the true “art of the real world.” Technological advancements were paramount to the improvement of this genre. Lighter camera allowed for greater fluidity and freedom of motion; sync sound made it so the aural aspects of the film could be consistent with the visual representation. In this tradition, Jonathan Caouette’s “Tarnation” illustrates how current technological advancements in digital video editing software have revitalized the medium of the diary film, or autodocumentary. The implementation of the iMovie software allowed Caouette to manipulate existing photographs and home movie footage and create out of these found (or collected) materials his own personal aesthetic. As Jonathan Caouette proves with “Tarnation”, as long as there are technological innovations, the form of the documentary remains as dynamic as it was in the early days of verite.
“Tarnation”, however, belongs less to documentary than to a very different, entirely uncommercial tradition: it is the type of work that usually emerges from film's experimental fringes, or from video art, and that rarely sees any mainstream exposure.” The technology employed by Caouette (and his decisions of inclusion/manipulation) may categorize his film as “other”—a new hybrid of cinema verite, video art and diary. The development process and critical regard for ““Tarnation”” is also worthy of investigation. The film steps out of the traditional genre construction of documentary through the capabilities of manipulation through the iMovie software. Caouette freely discusses, both in the film and off camera, how his dissociative identity disorder has affected the “organic process” through which the stylistic revolutions of “Tarnation” were developed. This approach, complimented by Caouette’s freedom to inexpensively create such a piece, marks a notable development in documentary film, and provides worthy fodder for discussion: is this the future of the medium, or simply a diversion?
By now, nearly everyone in certain cinematic circles has learned the three cardinal truths about “Tarnation”. 1. It cost $218.32. 2. It was made on iMovie, the free software bundled with Apple computers since the late 1990’s 3. It’s the (slightly solipsistic) story of dissociative identity disorder and a dysfunctional family. This low budget and the familiarity of the materials used lend credence to Jonathan Caouette’s unconscious agreement with the viewer that what he presents should be accepted as absolute truth. Beyond this, the family photographs, shaky hand held home movies and deeply familiar interactions with his subjects create the notion that this film is more than just Caouette’s reality, it is “our truth” as well. Nostalgia is a key factor is establishing something as true and universal. In “Tarnation”, these truths are delivered via clips from Zoom, Johnny Cash songs, and traditional nursery rhymes. The accessibility of this common material forges immediate identification with Caouette-- “that use of pop culture references is to hopefully evoke something emotional and familiar within people. And to remind us, and maybe I’m not saying this quite right, of what we are and where we come from, getting back to the familiarity and innocence of childhood.” This is part of Caouette’s mission, to allow all of his viewers to see the film as something in which they could participate and, ultimately, create themselves out of their own personal narrative, no longer fearing the imaginary fences between film maker and common person. As he explains, “I really hope the movie can be an inspiration for would be filmmakers who are maybe intimidated by how much money is takes. You really just need a camera from Best Buy, a firewire, and a Mac. There should be no more excuses” More than simply eliminating financial deterrents, ““Tarnation”” breaks this boundary, explicating the mysteries of editing and achieving emotional affects, which had previously been secrets of the craft. This division is further bridged by virtue of the media it compiles. Super-8 tapes and photo booth strips are at one both particular to an individual and evocative of a collection of personal material that nearly every nostalgic individual amasses. Seeing these images on the screen transforms the idiosyncratic and certainly unique Jonathan Caouette into an everyman, onto which the viewer may transpose his or her own memories. Judging by the emotional response to “Tarnation”, transpose they did. “As to audience response, people would come up to me at Sundance without saying a word and just embrace me tightly. People seem to connect with this movie in an astoundingly real and visceral way.” It is the film’s low-fi appeal that makes it so accessible and thus so beloved, despite the flaws inherent in its low production value. While facts of production are a suitable summary of its exposition, they are severely lacking in describing what drew audiences and critics to hold the film in such regard. “If critics didn’t focus so often on ‘Tarnation’s’ production costs and about Caouette’s lack of experience, they might be more inclined to write about the director’s vision and his astute analysis of sex, gender and sexual orientation in us culture.”
Caouette’s film may be the flagship theatrical release of an iMovie, but one must consider that this is simply another mile marker along the digital pathway into the future of film. Almost a decade before this film’s release, Apple was bundling iMovie in with its standard software package, and Lars von Trier’s Dogme manifesto was legitimizing digital video as a valid medium for serious cinematic endeavors. “Dogme persuaded us- to a degree-- that the visual texture of video should not be seen as an inferior relation of celluloid which in turn fed into the growing excitement of Macintosh customers discovering iMovie.” It is the ubiquity of this software as well as the general acceptance that nearly anyone could edit their life in this way that lends itself to empathy with Jonathan Caouette, as well as skepticism over the performative nature of the piece as a whole. “The iMovie aesthetic might also become a mode of expression for film makers who want a particular way of indicating that something is immediate and real.” Because one is aware of the lack of fabrication of one’s own home movies, the discerning viewer is still less likely to suspect Caouette of anything but outright honesty. While “Tarnation” itself may not be intentionally deceptive, there is a performative aspect, apparent from the outset, that endures through most of the film, until Renee’s Lithium overdose (a tragic reality check) forces Jonathan to face the camera, and his despair, head on. This does not question the veracity of the film, but rather makes a larger comment on the nature of how home movies selectively represent a family history.
The first scene of “Tarnation” sets the stage for the elements of performance that are to continue throughout the film. Her hair askew and eyes wild, Renee LeBlanc (who has not yet been identified as mentally ill) sings for the camera. After a montage of still images, the first interaction viewers have with the other main subject of the film, Jonathan, is via performance as well. However, while Renee mugs for the camera, it is not nearly as overt a performance as Jonathan’s, who transcends gender and age to give a “testimony” as Hillary Chapman Laurel (or Lowell) Lou Garito. It is intense- both in the precociousness of the child who is able to so completely envelop himself in the role, as well as the accuracy with which he can portray this disturbed, battered woman. In his interview with Chris Wilcha, Jonathan Caouette makes note of the fact that for this performance, he was essentially channeling his mother. Regardless, the audience does not necessarily correlate the incredible acting abilities of this child with the possibility that as a filmmaker, he may be able to similarly shape the reality of his life that the viewers are accepting as truth. “The iMovie aesthetic might also become a mode of expression for film makers who want a particular way of indicating that something is immediate and real.” This is a conundrum- are all home movies in some way manipulations of the truth with camera as catalyst, or should one hold Jonathan Caouette suspect for manufacturing a portrayal of his early family life? The camera is, in many undocumented domestic cases, an unwelcome guest at an event, and its intrusion may unconsciously affect behaviors, rather than preserve an unadulterated view of family life. Caouette’s home movies differ, of course, because how many families interrogate their patriarchs on child abuse or witness claims that one’s mother is a transvestite with four nipples, as he has? Luckily, most audiences do not have such trust issues with the film. They can willingly accept it as collected footage and allow it to influence them emotionally without paying too much mind to the fact that the filmmaker/subject hardly ever appears onscreen unveiled, as himself. Granted, it would be exceptionally hard to falsify twenty years of personal artifacts, which certainly lends credence to Caouette’s presentation of the film as absolute truth. The capacity to ignore Caouette as an actor and place full trust in the honesty of his displayed footage is derived from the expectations that come from personal experience with home movies; within the majority of which a performative aspect is either unconscious or non-existent.
Even when discussing immensely personal issues, the footage that Jonathan Caouette has elected to use as the filmmaker always has at least one element of removal from the audience. When he talks about his adolescent understanding of his homosexuality, footage of Jonathan bouncing on a trampoline and otherwise engaging in carefree, childlike behaviors juxtapose his spoken admission that being a young gay man is difficult with almost stereotypical images of youthful delight. This pairing draws the ultimate conclusion that being gay was simply one element of Caouette’s development, and not a particularly stressful one. To illustrate his maturation as an artist, Caouette creates a split screen with footage from his first films, clips from popular television shows such as Zoom, and images of himself lip-syncing the soundtrack and staring dreamily at a television, which bathes him in an ethereal blue glow. There is no artist statement; there is no direct address. There are simply these disparate images woven together to create the impression of Jonathan Caouette as an artist, without a true understanding of who this Jonathan Caouette character is when the cameras are off. This is a privilege granted uniquely to one making an auto-documentary, not only to recreate the events of one’s life, but to also reinvent oneself (through “the best performances” and editorial control) into the portrait of whom one wants to be. Up until a major catastrophic event (Renee’s overdose) Jonathan Caouette can be understood more as a film subject who just so happens to be the filmmaker than an honest, flawed individual to be looked at objectively. When he does “reveal himself” at the end, finally we can ask the question of who the real Caouette is- the narrative subject or the documentarian?
After Renee has overdosed on Lithium and Jonathan must travel down to Texas to care for her, in this most dire of situations, he strips himself of all of the cinematic veils that had previously been his protection. Emotionally naked in front of the camera, sans visual effects, editing tricks or b roll footage to distract the audience, Jonathan Caouette, for the first time in this film, has ceased performing to make way for unadulterated honesty. This act is a synecdoche for Caouette’s experiences upon editing and releasing the film: “It was a way of showing myself and showing other people how I’ve come full circle with everything. It was a way of making peace with things. I think, and realizing that I didn’t need the camera on myself or my family an longer as a way of disassociating or having a sense of control, as I had been doing for the past 20 years.” This difference between video camcorder as observer of unaware subjects, and as catalyst for performance is something to consider once family videos enter the mainstream and audiences are faced with the question of what is truth and what fabrication. “Tarnation” serves as an excellent intermediary for this transition. As Executive Producer Gus Van Sant notes, “They are no longer home movies, but movies of the home.”
To consider “Tarnation” simply a documentary is an oversight bordering on injustice. Part of what sets the film apart is its unique visual aesthetic and editing technique, which Caouette considers an organic process manifested through his depersonalization disorder, but other viewers might consider as a generational influence based on music videos and video art. “Caouette’s directorial vision is not exactly unique—you can see its roots in music videos, television commercials and the multiplicity of images common in much pop art—but it is distinctly not Hollywood or even traditional independent film. Because he is using a collage technique that relies on evoking strong emotional responses through a juxtaposition of immediately recognizable images and sounds… we are pulled into the film’s emotional subtext without much room to resist or even process this material.” Caouette’s creative influence on the manipulation of his family footage into this bright colored, highly contrasted eye candy does more than simply provide for a prettier picture than transferred home video footage. This technique blurs the line between video art and home video, which is rarely the case in documentary films. Yet “Tarnation” is arguably a horse of a different color than the majority of documentaries, through both its exposition and emotional content. Subject matter as intense as that manifested in “Tarnation” is not easy to swallow by a mass audience aware that the maker of the film they are currently digesting has personally suffered through all he has included in the work. But considering the dueling perspectives of “Tarnation” as art vs. therapy, it proves to be an apt choice. In either case, it may be perceived that the film is being shortchanged. "I manipulated almost every single frame that you see in the film with the brightness and contrast button," he explains. 'I went along with the music, but I also let the brightness and contrast evoke an atmosphere, a feeling of what it's like to see things with depersonalization disorder, which is a bit trippy.” In this interview, Caouette claims that the colors and contrast (the more artistic aspects of the film that incite its comparisons to video art) are relevant in that they are visual representations of his disorder. In a way, this combines the film as therapy viewpoint with the film as art stand. Neither of these is particularly comfortable ground for the viewer, as through either lens responsibility shifts. If one is to watch the film as if it is a therapy session for Jonathan Caouette (as he has mentioned that working through the film has allowed him renewed perspective on the events of his life) the viewer is faced with the burden of this man’s unfortunate circumstances, and is made implicit in helping to sort through these issues. However, this approach disregards the intentional stylistic decisions made by Caouette to adopt an aesthetic similar to the experience of his dissociative episodes- fundamentally, to have his art as a true manifestation of his perspective. If one looks at “Tarnation” as cinema therapy, one does not have to come to terms with theoretical questions or solidify a personal definition of art, in which the film may or may not fit. By nature of the medium, “Tarnation” as therapy film puts Caouette’s pain into a larger cultural context that the viewer may or may not choose to entertain. Yet if the viewer chooses not to engage with the film on a confessional, therapeutic level (whether this is a conscious decision with an understanding of one’s own emotional reserves or self preservation- not desiring to perhaps find familiarity in Caouette’s family situation) to view it simply as an artistic endeavor is to pacify the worry within that this sort of horrific occurrence does, in fact, exist. It is easier to handle “Tarnation” if it is not seen as an unflinching look at a brutal life. By expressing these unsettling happenings via visuals (it is here that Caouette’s decision to use title cards rather than voice over narration adds another element of removal) the reality of the film is easier to swallow, as it is a work of art and not a pressing human truth. What is important to recognize, so that the film may be appropriately considered both art and therapy at once, is that Caouette is exorcising his demons through the creative process, and that these veilings are not mutually exclusive. Taking a look at earlier diary films, such as Jonas Mekas’ “Lost Lost Lost” and Ed Pincus’ “Diary,” the collected footage is far more straightforward (although Mekas’ aesthetic of silent 16 mm is more similar to Caouette’s) and would never be compared to video art. However, Caouette is a product of his generation, and infuses his personal narrative with the popular culture that is inexorably a part of his experience; the empathy of the audience comes with the shared memory of these experiences (and herein lies the uncomfortable identification with the unstable subject.)
After making its mark on the festival circuit, after the voicing of praise from all sides for Caouette’s thrifty, inventive feature that exemplified the potential of new technology, there remains the murmur of an unanswered question amongst the cinema set. Does “Tarnation” exemplify the future of documentary filmmaking, or is it a deviation? “Tarnation” serves as an excellent example of how the ease with which iMovie can be learned, along with the relatively inexpensive video camera options currently available, makes filmmaking a far more accessible domain for the masses. “For several years, filmmakers and the industry they support have been hyping a new era of moviemaking heralded by the advent of digital video cameras and high end desk top editing systems…. The technology itself will foster a more direct, personal approach to filmmaking.” Yet iMovie and a camcorder were merely tools for Caouette to implement his vision, which, had he the funds, he could have done on an Avid system with an HDV camera, much to the same effect in terms of technicalities. Such a line of thinking seems to imply that works as personal as “Tarnation” are born out of small budgets, and intimacy and full personal disclosure could not have possibly been attained when the filmmaker’s equipment was more sophisticated and expenses were higher. This is a difficult point to consider. Clearly, the film's DIY aesthetic, that which resonates so deeply with audiences as “the truth” could not have been replicated without Jonathan Caouette’s photo booth stills, answering machine tapes, and super-8 reels. “’Tarnation’ suggests a new era for movies, moviemakers and audiences - a revolution in audio-visual confessional.” This begs the question- could Caouette have confessed any other way? With this consideration, “Tarnation” contributes to the auto-documentary movement via content, not simply by virtue of its medium, and such content, one may argue, is increasingly timely. In recent years, the subject matter of much popular media has centered on the self of the author, oftentimes a self in conflict with situation. These writers did not have the filmmaker’s concern of pricey equipment or studio support: their creation was literally supported by brainpower. “Caouette's need to lay himself bare also has much in common with a current true-confessions strain in commercial American writing, represented by such diverse writers as Elizabeth Wurtzel, Dave Eggers, Augusten Burroughs and psychic damage's self-help pin-up boy Dave Pelzer. “ It should be noted at this point that many of these individuals are at the helm of the McSweeney’s publishing team, which garners great regard throughout the literary community. These contemporary writers, many of whom gained critical attention for their captivating portrayals of immensely personal material, prove Caouette is not alone in this treatment of his art. Nor is it an entirely original direction. As AO Scott notes, this confessional, diary approach also appeared in American poetry of the 1950’s.
Combining this evidence, it is easier to support “Tarnation” as an exemplary moment in the transition from objective to subjective documentary. First the beat poets, then the McSweeney’s writers, and now, like most adaptations—the self as preferred subject has moved to the screen. “As the tide of confessionalism and personal revelation that has come to dominate literary culture moves into the visual realm, we may be entering the age of the autodoc, or moicumentary.” Jonathan Caouette cannot be credited for inventing the diary film, nor for being the first to pen such a confessional, penetrating memoir. However, it can be recognized that with the public appreciation of “Tarnation”, it could perpetuate the trend toward immensely personal narratives in entertainment. As Caouette says in his interview with Chris Wilcha, “the world is ready for a new kind of cinema and I would love to see something with a more hyper-real element coming back.” This sort of cinema may be new, but the idea itself has been a lasting trend. Following Caouette’s example, however, the film memoir may drastically gain popularity as more and more individuals realize they possess the necessary tools to tell their story cinematically. While it may not be the all-encompassing future of documentary, “Tarnation” is certainly more than a singular experiment.
Only time can tell when professional equipment may become publicly accessible, but as Jonathan Caouette has illustrated with “Tarnation”, the backyard auteur has already begun to establish himself as a potential threat to Hollywood’s monopoly on cinema. Caouette’s unique approach to the diary film, pairing video art with art as therapy and creating a pop culture/personal narrative, follows a current trend in the other art forms. With his film as an excellent example of what is possible even with a microscopic budget and relatively unsophisticated tools, the natural trajectory of the documentary may be redirected to a far more personal, accessible venue. If this is not a solid example of what it means to document truth and present it as non-fiction cinema, a better one has yet to reach theaters.

(footnotes.sources cited available in hardcopy)

Final Paper Proposal- Tarnation as the modern diary film

2007-05-10T07:44:00.000-07:00

New Technology? HOT DAMN! : How Tarnation May Be Ushering In a New Era of the Diary Film.

In the first part of this course, we spent a great deal of time discussing technological developments in film making equipment and how it affected the technique of those shooting observational cinema. The lighter camera allowed for greater fluidity and freedom of motion; sync sound made it so the aural aspects of the film could be consistent with the visual representation. Jonathan Caouette’s “Tarnation” illustrates how current technological advancements in digital video editing software have revitalized the medium of the diary film. Assembled in the style of a Jonas Mekas film, “Tarnation”’s implementation of the iMovie software allowed Caouette to manipulate existing footage and create out of these found images his own personal aesthetic. (Calhoun) “Tarnation, however, belongs less to documentary than to a very different, entirely uncommercial tradition: it is the type of work that usually emerges from film's experimental fringes, or from video art, and that rarely sees any mainstream exposure.” (Romney) The technology employed by Caouette (and his decisions of inclusion/manipulation) may categorize his film as “other”—a new hybrid of cinema verite, video art and diary. “Caouette's style is a mixture of the rapid crosscutting and repetition found in Jonas Mekas's confessional early work, and the visual flashiness of Kenneth Anger's pop-culture saturated Fireworks and Scorpio Rising--films Caouette references in his voiceover narration--as well as Jack Smith's Flaming Creatures.” (Bronski)
The development process and critical regard for “Tarnation” is also worthy of investigation. The film steps out of the traditional genre construction of documentary through the capabilities of manipulation through the iMovie software. Caouette freely discusses, both in the film and off camera, how his disassociative personality disorder has affected the “organic process” through which the stylistic revolutions of “Tarnation” were developed. (Wilcha interview with Caouette) This “horse of a different color” approach, complimented by Caouette’s freedom to inexpensively create such a piece, marks a notable development in documentary film, and provides worthy fodder for discussion: is this the future of the medium, or simply a diversion?
Sources

Bronski, Michael. “Tarnation.”
Cineaste v. 30 no1 (Winter 2004) p. 38-40

Calhoun, John. “Tarnation Finds Beauty in Chaos.”
American Cinematographer v. 85 no11

Rich, B. Ruby, Tell It to the Camera.
Sight & Sound ns15 no4 (April 2005) p. 32-4

Romney, Jonathan. “The Use of Abuse.”
Modern Painters (March 2005) p. 26-9

Wilcha, Christopher. “Jonathan Caouette.”
Bomb no89 (Fall 2004) p. 30-4, 36-7

2007-04-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

Can a documentary, a film that the average viewer believes to be a presentation of facts, exist outside of an entirely objective space? As some examples in this course, such as “Demon Lover Diary” and “Lost Lost Lost” would indicate, once the hand of the filmmaker begins to shape the material with his/her personal account of the events, the addition of subjectivity does not necessarily detract from the veracity of the film, it is simply recontextualized. That being said, Kazuo Hara still remains a bit of a horse of a different color. Hara has created a diary film (which, in the same vein as Pincus and DeMott’s work, can be fully understood as a subjective experience of events) but has also produced several films with less personal subjects. Yet as Hara’s can easily be considered “activist filmmaking,” does it not lose some of its objectivity in pushing an agenda? “The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On” stylistically blurs the line between observational cinema and narrative fiction, thus making it harder to pinpoint Kazuo Hara’s stand on the issues it presets.

The epigram, so to speak, at the head of this week’s reading, somewhat uncomfortably makes the viewer question Kazuo Hara’s documentary intentions. As he says straightforwardly he wants to have his documentary subjects act as action heroes, making action documentary films. His protagonist in “The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On” certainly provides this for him, as he is a volatile and uncontrollable subject. He seems to be the perfect “character,” so to speak, so that Kazuo Hara may attempt in his filmmaking to break the rigid taboos of Japanese society. Kento Okuzaki not only openly discusses his botched assassination attempt on the emperor, he also commits acts of violence onscreen against his commanding officers, now frail old men. This sort of insurgence would have rarely found its way onto the Japanese screen. Hara doubly has his hand in breaking such taboos, both directly and editorially. By selecting a subject such as Kento Okuzaki, whose anti-government and slightly unstable convictions were by no means clandestine, Kazuo Hara prepared himself for shooting a disturbingly unconventional film that would likely incense the more traditional viewer. With such an explosive subject, Hara’s film is an interesting comment on Jean Rouch’s idea of the camera as catalyst. If the events in front of the camera are more cataclysmic, is it merely observational and honest to capture them, or is one implicated by the foresight that such a subject could produce these results? This may be considered a reappropriation of the role of the camera/filmmaker, one that Hara took advantage of to allow himself the opportunity to diverge from documentary conventions.

Both Hara’s shooting techniques and editorial decisions mirrored his subject’s radical politics. He supports Kento Okuzaki’s violent nature by rolling his camera (some would say “standing idlely by”) as Okuzaki attacks two of his former commanding officers. One of whom is a weak, nearly paralyzed old man fresh out of surgery. Okuzaki’s attack put him back in the hospital, and despite pleas and chastisement from the commanding officer’s family, Hara did nothing but continue to roll as the events unfolded. This non-interventionist approach most likely was more objective and honest than if Hara had interceded. But it certainly does not free him from the moral implications of acting as an observer to such proceedings. However, it can be argued that by showcasing such violent material, leading the audience to question what the filmmaker’s responsibility is in such a situation, one ultimately directs the viewer to question their understanding of truth through cinema and/or the meanings of their desires to see such action unfold. By this I mean that as the viewer lambastes the filmmaker for not stopping the abhorrent action, he is led to question whether he desires a true record of what has transpired (including violence) or if morally he’d rather that the filmmaker interrupt the events. Kazuo Hara breaks the taboos by depicting violence in this uninterrupted fashion, implicating the viewer in the action and leading him to question his voyeuristic pleasure, if any, received. Hara also challenges authority himself by blatantly disregarding the police when they try to prohibit him from filming. This is a far more obvious breaking of a taboo, which is the unquestioned submission to authority figures. As an activist film maker, this non-cooperative stance is complimentary to the subjects he explores. Apparently it is successful, as his film Sayonara, CP! brought about reform in the public’s understanding and interaction with the physically disabled. Using this protest aesthetic allows Kazuo Hara the ability to passively record his passions, then present them to an audience as a form of activism.

“From my opinion, a documentary should explore things people don’t want explored, bring things out of the closet, to examine why people want to hide specific things.” What is it about Kazuo Hara’s films that make us uncomfortable, and what does that say about us? What sort of cultural judgments can we make about how uneasy such material makes different cultures? Hara presents himself as an outsider-observer, yet his home movie aesthetic with its lapses in sync sound do not necessarily present the material he has recorded as completely reliable/free from directorial influence. This would not necessarily preclude the film from being seen as making a strong case for the cause, but to some discerning eyes, could take one out of the events and into the idea of them as “film,” thus moving from the active to the passive.

Diary Bias

2007-04-11T06:45:00.000-07:00

Never before in this class have we been able to see a filmmaker’s complete body of works. But after some hasty research on IMDB last night, I found that Jeff Kreines and Joel DeMott had not been credited with any other film-making past the production of “Seventeen.” This makes it easier to contrast the styles of the two pieces, and make notes on what I would consider to be successfully self reflexive techniques, and what simply made observational cinema seem less objective.

From the outset, “Demon Lover Diary” presents itself as a personal narrative. The very inclusion of the word “diary” in the title implies that this work is going to be heavy handed in regards to inclusion of the film makers’ perspective. “Demon Lover Diary” does not disappoint. The role of the narrator is established almost from the first frame, as Joel identifies herself and her subjects by their position in her personal cosmology of influence. The audience is immediately aware that this is a film about making a film, and that the filmmaker herself will be documenting the process, not sparing her opinion of the proceedings. This is made apparent when Joel introduces Don as “a friend of Jeff’s” and Jerry as “not so much a friend of Jeff’s” (I paraphrase.) Never having met these characters, never having the opportunity for them to establish their own legitimacy or present themselves as complex subjects, the audience is immediately biased against Jerry due to the Joel’s disclaimer. The proceedings of the shooting of “Demon Lover” are similarly colored. Clearly Jeff’s aggravation with Don’s disorganization is mounting, but Joel chooses to shoot mostly Jeff’s emotional state, not necessarily the context that has produced it. We rarely see wasted time, and only towards the end of the film are presented with the affects of Don and Jerry’s poor communication.

Joel DeMott does not frame the other filmmakers outside of her own personal perspective. However, she does cast her boyfriend and friend in a more flattering light, filming Mark’s search for love and Jeff’s candid discussion of his willingness to help his friends. Even the inclusion of the scene in which the three documentarians are enjoying themselves too loudly and are shushed by Don’s mother is biased in that presents the audience with a set of gleeful, young subjects to compare to Don and Jerry’s unattractive, incompetent presentation. Self reflexivity in a film such as “Demon Lover Diary” is a necessity, as it is a personal account of events. However, in this case, by editorializing with the narration before even shaping the piece to reflect favorably upon herself, Joel DeMott shapes the perception of events, potentially violating the veracity of the work.

However, the same criticism cannot be made of “Seventeen,” although it is not devoid of moments of self reflexivity. Much of the candor exhibited by Kreines and DeMott’s subjects in seventeen may be assumed to be prompted by the presence of the camera; some of the teens audacity (especially in their back-talk to their Home Ec. Teacher) could be attributed to a performative inclination. But such examples are limited. Lynn may address Joel directly in a scene, and the mic may accidentally come into frame in a moment of chaotic drunkenness. But “Seventeen” does not suffer from the same immediately apparent editorial feel present in “Demon Lover Diary.” I would attribute this to the lack of voice over narration. The audience is not instructed on how to relate to the subject. Instead, DeMott and Kreines simply “take us along for the ride,” literally—as the audience sits beside Lynn and Wendy as they smoke cigarettes on their ride home from school, it is easy to forget that there is another body in the front seat and that the audience is not simply privy to this private conversation.

In many instances, self reflexive techniques may provide the right critical approach so that audiences respect the nature of the documentary’s production and are made aware that even in this instance, the truth is being molded by the film makers. Yet Joel DeMott’s highly critical, personal presentation of her subjects in “Demon Lover Diary” steps beyond self reflexivity as a tool in the film maker’s arsenal into self indulgence. Luckily, in a situation that necessitated a more unbiased, sensitive presentation of the subjects, DeMott and Kreines were able to leave their personal biases behind and create a film that is more observational than editorial.

Living Out Loud

2007-03-28T06:51:00.000-07:00

As a child of the reality tv generation, the opportunity to watch what could possibly be considered the pilot series for the genre was an eye opening look at its maturation over the past thirty years. The critical backlash, as Craig Gilbert described in his reflections, was truly what spawned the negative sentiments surrounding the show- both general viewers and the family themselves seemed, according to Gilbert, content with the content. Personally, I think the parents in “A Married Couple” or the teachers in “High School” are far more deplorable than the Louds, in the two episodes I saw. However, as the Louds were presented essentially in a series of twelve films, the look at their human fallibility is more penetrating as it is broader in scope and readily provides more examples for a critic. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, the wacky pair in “A Married Couple” exit the screen after two hours, leaving the viewer free to disassociate and live his or her life differently or “better” than that of the subjects whose behavior s/he had just spent the time viewing.

A weekly television series provides more fuel for the critical fire, so to speak. Because Craig Gilbert and the Raymonds were essentially making a twelve hour long documentary, they had the freedom to include more minutiae than a single feature length film would allow, for there was less risk of losing the audience. Despite the cataclysmic event of the series, in which Pat asks Bill for a divorce, there are still quiet moments in the episode, reinvigorating a sense of normalcy. The girls awkwardly play flute, missing notes, and only a complete over intellectualization would possibly present that this has anything to do with the state of their psyche (the unbalance of not having their father in the house resounds in a dissonant tone, blah blah blah.) When Pat visits Lance in New York, the tedium of some of their time together is also captured on film. As they both sit in her room at the Chelsea, not really conversing, the lull in conversation is replete with the awkwardness felt by a grown child trying to entertain his mother in a somewhat unusual setting. To me, this is more genuine insight into the lives of these people than a shorter format would allow. The luxury of having twelve hours to present a documentary on the Louds and the state of an/the American family, means less pressure on the construction to speak as definitively towards a thesis in every moment. In fact, Gilbert mentions in the first half of his article that he was ultimately forced to fire an editor who was trying to shape the Louds into character types. He wanted the presentation to be a natural, unbiased presentation of the seven months he spent with this family.

“An American Family” provides fantastic contrast to modern reality television, even when the situations are somewhat similar. My generation, having been raised on MTV’s “The Real World,” spent most of high school trying to figure out “who we would be” on the show, in case the casting agent ever came to call. This is in direct opposition to what Gilbert says he was attempting with “An American Family.” Modern reality TV takes advantage of the understanding that conflict will draw viewers, and intentionally shapes the subjects of its programming into heroes and villains. The teenagers on “The Real World” probably did not outwardly differ much from Grant and Lance Loud. However, the editing establishes this girl as the “militant black lesbian” and this boy as the “intolerant frat boy,” with someone else in the house serving as the “enlightened liberal mediator” between the two. After watching even one season of “The Real World,” a viewer is highly aware of the fact that the title is exceptionally misleading.

Craig Gilbert says that the most negative reactions against the show came from the critics, facing what he called “the shock of recognition.” The mundane moments, as I described before, along with the day to day concerns of the family, were perceived as deep seated superficiality; a product of white privilege. Gilbert argues that this lashing out in the press comes not from the availability of flaws in the Louds as much as from the recognition by the critic of these shortcomings in his own household. One way to pacify the uneasiness of being greeted with your own somewhat ugly behaviors is to publicly decry them, as if you can, by doing this, establish yourself as a moral master above such things. By criticizing the Louds, those writing were able to ignore the unattractive truths of the average American- they had superficial concerns, they fought with family members, and oftentimes did not say anything of particular philosophical worth. However, trapped behind the screen of the television, the normality of the Louds’ idiosyncrasies proved to be a sitting duck for the insecurities of those who would rather that this imperfect family not be representative of the typical.

I would prefer that reality television took the approach of Craig Gilbert in providing a less constructed view of its subjects. But it is likely that the nature of the medium’s structuring towards highly dramatic portrayals has to do with the modern market’s need for constant, intense stimulation. This, and the ease of identification (although still from a privileged critical distance) are the reasons why reality television has had such a prolific history in recent years, as audiences are more willing to invest themselves in the televised constructions of actual people rather than completely fictionalized characters, likely because they know that once the season ends, these real people can disappear back into the obscurity of day to day life.

Respect Your Elders, Or Face Being Trapped in XCU

2007-02-28T06:55:00.000-08:00

“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.

Salesman (Maysles and Zwerin)

2007-02-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

When I was studying in Prague, my classmates and I frequently got into heated debates over whether or not there was a certain “feminine sensitivity” noticeable in films to which women had made a significant contribution. While no consensus was ultimately reached (both camps refused to compromise) the discussion, even though it has passed, encouraged me to watch a film’s sensitivity and ultimately build a case for my point. The Maysles’ Brothers Salesman, although easily perceived as a male driven film, considering its protagonists, would not evoke the same emotional response were it not for editorial decisions made by Charlotte Zwerin. Zwerin herself says that the film “is a difficult film to view…it comes across at a very slow and undramatic pace.” (Zwerin, 91) Yet it could also be argued that Zwerin’s choice to linger on certain moments is the saving grace for what would be otherwise an exceptionally hard to structure film.

Editing can be compared to Darwinism, although having “the strongest shots survive” may certainly be a matter of the editor’s taste. In her interview, Charlotte Zwerin voiced her initial dismay when editing Salesman that, aside from the traditional continuity issues that arise from the very nature of Verite filmmaking, she could not feel the enthusiasm that David and Al Maysles brought back from the set. However, ultimately Al’s “unexciting footage” followed his self-spoken principle to “catch a kind of ‘subjective-objective’ truth… in which ethics and aesthetics are interdependent, where beauty starts with honesty.”( Blue, 259) However, it was from the winnowing down of the footage and the focus on one character, Paul, that the film ultimately gains its poignancy. Watching Paul stutter his way through a sales pitch, with cuts showing the unenthused faces of his potential clients, Zwerin keeps the shot on Paul’s face in his awkward sales pitch long enough for the viewer to empathize with his captive audience in the general feeling he has overstayed his welcome. Then, the reaction is what is valued, and the use of very tight close-ups on the customer, magnifying their facial reactions as Paul needles them, usually unsuccessfully, into making the purchase, takes the focus away from the actual subject of the scene (Paul) and shows what could be considered the consequences of his unpolished pitch. It is these moments where the shot is held slightly too long, where the blank reaction fills the screen for an uncomfortable extra second, that empathy for the characters is bred.
A departure from the Drew Associates’ crisis based films, Salesman could almost be considered the tale of an anti-hero. Rather than structure the story around Ray or Charlie, one of the more successful salesmen (of whom there was equal amounts of footage depicting their triumphs in the trade) Zwerin and the Maysles put the audience’s eye on Paul, who at times is almost painfully human and anti-hero. While the articles mentioned the removal of scenes where Paul goes to his daughter’s wedding, which would have been exceptionally humanizing, Zwerin’s inclusion of moments less maudlin or obvious investigations into Paul’s humanity reinforces the notion that her sensitivity is what truly solidifies the emotional impact of the film. While in many of the repetitive scenes in hotel rooms, Paul appears to mug for the camera, it is when he is in his car, warbling “If I Were a Rich Man” or slipping on an icy path on the way back from a failed call that he is ultimately made sympathetic. The decision to include these tiny, seemingly insignificant moments that gradually build a deep emotional relationship between the audience and the down on his luck salesman rather than beat the audience over the head with sentimentality is a mature decision that would not have necessarily been made in the earlier, crisis oriented direct cinema films, in which the Maysles participated.
Further examples of these “tender” moments, which can also be viewed as exceptionally anti-climactic, reinforce Zwerin’s opinion that the film is undramatic and difficult to watch. However, I applaud her for her decision to include these rather than take the obvious material for building an emotional case. One need only see two moments in hotel rooms, in which the men idle and Paul expresses his dismay at the current selling scene (while the camera captures the uninterested or concerned faces of his compatriots) to imply that this is a common occurrence in the lives of these men, and that every territory looks the same from inside the walls of a budget motel. Yet these scenes depict an intimacy between the salesmen, in their moments of respite, which cannot easily be conveyed in other material. It also builds a slow, strong case for Paul’s discontent at his own lack of success, which appropriately climaxes in a final motel scene, where the same spiel about “join the force and get a pension” is repeated. Yet after the audience has encountered these motel scenes repeatedly, the deviance from Paul’s usual gruff dismay to his almost tearful dejection is all the more powerful. Zwerin’s decision to include the final one, in which that powerful close up of Paul at the end of his emotional tether, past the point where the action would further the story, is an excellent illustration of her decision to value character rather than circumstance. That still shot of Paul, after repeating for the umpteenth time the Irish “dream” he’s avoided by going into bible sales, gains emotional strength as it lingers until Paul nearly breaks down into tears. This moment does not beat compassion into the audience, but by virtue of the fact that Zwerin has chosen to repeat these monotonous, seemingly identical moments, it carries more emotional clout than a more overt event might.
Coupled with less frenetic camera movement on the part of Al Maysles and his prescience to understand when a reaction shot is more valuable than one of the subject speaking, Salesman becomes a film about the small moments that make or break a man. Although Charlotte Zwerin mentions in the interview that she was ultimately unhappy with the film, as she thought its pacing was too slow (to render it almost unwatchable) this is mostly in comparison to the existing, fast paced and crisis driven verite films. As a female editor, the slow pace translates to artistry of the pause, and Zwerin’s innate understanding of when to hold a moment of silence for ultimate emotional impact. Salesman may not be as riveting as a film with perhaps a more action packed situation, but as an investigation into the human condition vis a vis Paul’s struggles, the tenderness of Zwerin’s long held moments brings the film a delicate humanity it would have not achieved otherwise.

COMING SOON

2007-02-11T09:23:00.000-08:00

maysles brothers salesmen journal entry...
my birthday...

Blog formatting stuff

2007-01-31T10:49:00.000-08:00

To italicize-

before the words/phrases you want to italicize...
<.i.> (without the periods)
After the stuff you want to italicize...
<./.i.>

To underline

<.u.> <./.u.>

To indent-

apparently this does not work at all. Sorry. Ignore me

Example
omg. did you see what a mess britney spears is these days?tragic

Chronicle of a Summer (Rouch) and Crisis (Drew Associates)

2007-01-30T23:27:00.000-08:00

According to the Stephen Mamber articles, one would believe that verite based on the Drew Associates’ model may be dramatic style over substance. That is to say that allegiance to molding a film around the crisis moment, or focusing on characters who are about to find themselves in such a crisis, is a technique more likely to bring veracity to verite. However, in comparing Crisis with Jean Rouch’s Chronicle of a Summer, a French film (and thus one ascribing to a very different philosophy of attaining truth through cinema verite) it is possible to draw the opinion that perhaps the most honest moments captured on film are not in the most heightened moment of dramatic action.
Crisis (as can be assumed by titular association with what Mamber identifies as the archetypal Robert Drew story structure) is set on an active, tenuous stage. As Mamber mentions, this is traditional fictional structure. However, it seems that in their pursuit of truth in this situation, the varying degrees of intimacy with the characters compromise the complete objectivity of the work. That is not to say that the Drew Associates have misrepresented the facts of the situation, or inappropriately documented it. However, there are some portrayals of Governor Wallace in which he almost appears to be pandering to the camera. Wallace is shown at a further focal length than the Kennedys, which removes the audience from his physical presence and establishes him as a spectacle rather than one in whose life we are participating. Wallace pontificates on the situation, chuckling with his advisors as, conveniently, a map he needs is delivered. His polished presentation and removal from the camera makes it seem as if he is part of a reenactment of the events, rather than experiencing them currently. His responses are too polished and his reactions too controlled for the “truth” of the situation, or really its humanity, warts and all, to be believable.
In contrast, Drew Associates have followed Robert Drew’s concept of capturing crisis on film, as in the Mamber article he relates that he has learned in his career in photojournalism with Life magazine. Drew said that in order to properly capture the exact place and time where the climax occurred, one should be close to the subjects and consistently ready. While the crisis moment of the film Crisis was undoubtedly to occur at the University of Alabama, by keeping the cameras rolling, the Drew Associates were able to capture the tics and fumbles that make the portrayal of JFK and Bobby Kennedy more human. Bobby Kennedy’s noisy family members interrupt each other at the dinner table and argue over even portions. Compared to the controlled environment of his office, ths pandemonium makes Robert Kennedy a far more sympathetic character. Even simple slips, such as when he is unable to find the correct phone, are included details that are not necessarily relevant to furthering the dramatic story, but do contribute to the establishment of the crisis hero (another essential element explored in the Mamber article.) Both President Kennedy and the Attorney General Kennedy are shown to be men in control of the situation, much like Wallace. But when the camera pulls in closer; when they wiggle in their rockers or show weariness in their faces, the emotional pull of such a moment is what establishes them as the heroes of the story.
In comparing Crisis to Chronicles of a Summer, the Drew Associates’ film follows dramatic structure and creates a captivating story through the use of this skeleton plot. However, that is not to say this always makes for the better film. Clearly a story such as the integration of the Alabama university system will have a crisis moment, and characters will be forced to show their true colors as the film reaches its exciting climax. But does this make a more “honest, truthful” film? The use of the narrator in this film (as a disembodied voice) immediately reminds the audience that they are watching a film and that their opinions of the events may have been manipulated by the film makers. In contrast, the number of subjects in the film almost completely disallows its complete orchestration. The subjects have varying reactions to the camera and seem to also have different degrees of comfort with its presence. However, when one is too comfortable in front of the lens, such as Governor Wallace, freely presenting opinions without stuttering or revealing other flaws, one begins to develop a distrust of this seemingly unflappable figure, as if there is something dishonest about the fact that he is not nervous.
Chronicles of a Summer does not ascribe to many of Drew’s verite tenants as addressed in the Stephen Mamber article. There is virtually no crisis structure, and the multiple subjects disallow for a clear crisis hero through which one can follow a complete narrative thread. The closest one comes is Marceline- and even revelations about her situation are far more subtle than any of the judgments that could be made by the audience of Crisis. Chronicles of a Summer keeps us intimate with the characters because they are all we have. Noting Leacock’s shot of Jackie Kennedy’s hands in Primary, Mamber discusses this cutaway as unsuccessfulm seeing as it is delivered out of context. Relevent details in Chronicles of a Summer bear no such flaw. When Marceline is listening to Jean Pierre discuss how his unhappiness stems from his inability to satisfy his love (her) the camera tilts from her worried face down to a tattoo on her arm as she worries she may have imposed her hardships on him unintentionally. Later, as they are discussing race, the camera follow the same path to Marceline’s tattoo, to illustrate her position as another repressed minority. However, even with the highly dramatic, emotionally charged sequence of Marceline walking around the Place du Concord, discussing her father, this is hardly as strict a crisis structure as would exist in an American cinema verite film. Were this an American film, Marceline’s character would be given far more screen time, and not nearly forgotten until the final third of the film.
The truth in this film can also be attached to its self reflexivity. The discussion section at the end fo the film is a true comment on the honesty of verite, straight from the subjects themselves as the first audience. Although they knew of the methods in which they were filmed, they still seemed skeptical about others “acting” or going into histrionics, which was the case with Marilou. This film begins as an exploration into what it means to be happy. There is not necessarily a crisis- no real change to take place, nothing forseen to be documented- merely an honestl exploration of the human condition in Paris at the start of the 1960s. So many of the characters are aborted (such as the painters and factory workers, save one) so the American (Drew Associates) tradition of presenting a crisis hero as the focus does not apply. It is a very subtle crisis moment when we realize the significance of having Marceline ask strangers if they are happy, considering the ghosts of her past that would likely be haunting her present happiness. Regardless of how the subjects reassure each other they are not acting, the film makers end the piece by voicing their concerns that the audience would be similarly suspicious of the veracity of each tale. Comparing this to Crisis, however, the intimacy with which even the hysterics of Marilou or Marceline's overly dramatized recounting of her reunion with her father may seem far more genuine, as it is not being pushed for entertainment value by a particular dramatic structure and ideal character establishment.