#11) Embodiment

“Gone Home” has been a quite successful game, receiving many recent awards such as “Best Narrative Game” by PC Gamer, “Best Games of 2013” by USA TODAY, “Best Story” by IGN, and many more. (http://www.gonehomegame.com) As a story exploration game, there is no set way to experience or “go through” the game, since many different items are set up in each room for you to click on, read, and listen to in order to figure out where the sister has gone. Unfortunately, I missed the last few minutes of the game, where the story was concluded, so I did not know what was done to piece together the ending, or how the character “wins” the game. I am not aware of how the player can communicate to the game that is has officially and successfully solved the riddle, or found the answer. It might just require the player to manipulate the character to enter every space and collect enough audio journal entries from the sister, and then the story just propels itself to the finish line, whether or not the player has actually been able to solve the mystery on their own.

I think I have a unique experience and outlook on this whole gaming process and “journey” through the game because I saw the entire game being played, yet I did not see the ending played out. This caused me to realize just how significant and motivational the result or goal of video games always are, because without it, the player might not experience the fullest level of satisfaction. It might all feel like a waste. While it often a fun escape to delve into a digital world and manipulate it for a while, being embodied in a video game like this for too long (depending on the mobility and controls of the interface) can cause anxiety if there is no reward at the end of the process. There can feel like a separation between emotion and investment by the real person (player) and the emotions and investment of the “other” (avatar), which is really just an animatronic, digital version of the player, who cannot actually feel or invest anything without the player to manipulate their every move. However, they do somehow seem to possess a source of power and control that the player does not.

These feelings of extreme separation, miscommunication, frustration and varying proximity (physical and metaphorical, I guess) between the player and character remind me of a quote by Sobchack that was mentioned in the assigned Timothy Crick reading, “the moving camera is originally perceived by us in experience as an ‘other’ who is animate, conscious, and experiences and intends towards its own conscious activity as we do,” (260). For “Gone Home,” there is no avatar, no moving “people” or characters of any kind. The player is completely alone, and even more so, because there is no body or avatar to even represent the player. The camera is the player, thus the game is “shot” through the lens of the player’s eyes, which seemed to cause me more stress as I observed the game being played. I felt like I wanted to see “myself” (the player), or have some connection to humankind or any form of “life”, even if it was digitized. I echo Crick’s questioning, regarding the cinematic elements of video games and how it manipulates the view of the world and experience for the player:

“…as digital imaging technologies and techniques strive closer to replicating the cinematic moving image, to what extent do her views on digital imagery still seem applicable to our phenomenological experiences of engaging with contemporary video games?” (260)

I have had experience with video games, but not for quite a while. And when I heard the explanation of the interface for interacting with this particular game, I became worried that I would not know how to both control the “camera” (the POV), and the movement of the character with the arrows, plus making decisions to click on certain things, while ultimately following the plotline. It felt like a lot of responsibility, and an extreme control over both hand, eye, and brain coordination. Yet I am able to manipulate a lot of other forms of technology in my everyday life. In fact, the game was being played on the exact same type of computer that I use every single day. However, there is something quite different about having to operate the perspective and actions of a presumed “other” character that is both living in a world inside your computer (one that you can control to an extent, but not change) and is receiving life and mobility through the person outside the computer. Crick summarizes Sobchacks’s observations on these two bodies more clearly:

“…although this body is realized by the physical presence of the camera, it cannot be reduced to its mechanisms because the viewer does not experience it in that way. The film’s body is neither the camera nor the lens; neither the projector nor the screen…it is, rather, the sum of its parts.” (260)

This type of theology is something that can only fully be understood through application. The reason why people usually do not like video games is because they are not good at them; they have a hard time dealing with these two personas that are both there, yet not entirely there on their own. They are co-dependent, yet since it is all a simulation, it is never 100% a real connection and cohesion between the video game persona and the person operating the controllers.

“The software-simulated mobile camera that follows (or inhabits) a character in a virtual world serves double duty as the perceptive organ of a ‘game body.’” (261) This “game body” is both immersive and restrictive, as it shifts from the perspective of first-person to third-person. To contrast, this is why many people LOVE video games. It is intriguing and exciting to know that you can be both the author and the player, creating the adventure in an established world other than your own, and where all the action is actually fake and does not have real consequences. The “film body” theory by Sobchack, yet explained in detail by Crick, explains how the player “is theoretically able to exist within differing spatial domains during a first-person gaming experience, operating both on and in the game’s space from their own physical space…In other words, it seems like the player is playing as themselves from an imaginary perspective because he or she is not placed into that field by means of a visible avatar.” (262-263)

These are the parameters of “Gone Home.” Without having a person to represent “us” as the player, it causes us to focus more on how we manipulate our own camera views, and to engage with the entire world around us. With an avatar, there is the tendency to stare at it and focus on controlling its many movement options (jump kick, punch, run, etc.) Without it, there feels like less of a safety net, and less of a distinction between reality and representation. Your eyes are the camera’s eyes. This whole observation and experience made me concentrate more on what people both like and detest about video games in general, and what how the different type of interfaces might control their opinion and stress over certain games. It is nice to feel connected to the game, as if it is a circuit, which Haraway explained as a technology that extends human reach. At the same time, though, it can make the player feel very limited and restricted in a world like “Gone Home” where many things have to be manipulated at one time in order to play it.

Overall, it was fascinating to think about the games I played as a kid, and how much technology has advanced since then. Also, comparing the mechanics of operating a video game with a controller vs. a computer were truly insightful observations, as I pondered on my own aesthetics regarding digital embodiment and participation of certain video games. I personally like the handheld controller with the avatar, yet I am a big fan of things like Rock Band, where you manipulate your controller to hit certain buttons at certain times. Ultimately, video games that allow the person to mimic reality (dancing, instruments, singing) will remain popular because of how it forces the actual body to be a part of the process, and is less about manipulating an avatar on the screen or controlling the “camera.”

#10) New Media: Audiences & Spectatorship

      Having worked in theatre and film as a writer and director, I recall making decisions based on prospective audience members, and can relate to Janet Murray’s concerns on the intensity of spectator Immersion (pg. 103):

-How can we enter the fictional world without disrupting it?

-How can we be sure that imaginary actions will not have real results?

-How can we act on our fantasies without becoming paralyzed by anxiety?

Yet what if we negate these concerns entirely, and embrace the spectator disrupting the story, creating real results, and embracing their exploration in the fantasy world? Star Wars Uncut (2012), the collective fan-based cinema montage of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977), does just that.

After watching the film, I found the Henry Jenkins reading on Convergence to be most pertinent to the experience of critiquing this unique film. For the production, the entire 2-hour movie was split in 15-second segments and dispersed to fans that reenacted the segment however they liked. Then the 796 film segments were collected and edited back together in the correct order. As a viewer, this made it impossible to become “immersed” in the film because you only had 15 seconds to enjoy each clip before it disappeared forever. By remaining distanced and alienated from the world of the film, this project allows you to closely study the convergence of old and new media, the co-dependent relationship between producers and consumers, and the extreme relevance of Jenkins’s core claim:

“…convergence represents a shift in the ways we think about our relations to media, that we are making that shift first through our relations with popular culture, but that the skills we acquire through play may have implications for how we learn, work, participate in the political process, and connect with other people around the world.” (23)

He also emphasizes that the convergence culture, is “where old and new media collide, where grassroots and corporate media intersect, where the power of the media producer and the power of the media consumer interact in unpredictable ways.” (2) This is all exemplified in Star Wars Uncut. To recap my experience with the film, I am going list key observations that I made as I watched it, therefore getting a sense of my spectator “stream of consciousness”, since I was never fully “immersed” in the movie. This also fits the nature of the film: a new interpretation or idea every 15 seconds.

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MY SPECTATOR STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS:

-This movie could offend die-hard Star Wars fans. Does some of it seem disrespectful at all? How much weight should we ever give the audience’ critiques and interpretations of our work? If I was George Lucas, how should I feel about this movie: flattered or ashamed?

-I wonder what the other filmmakers thought of each other’s interpretations. Some seemed to take it much more seriously than others, yet regardless, they all turn out silly since they are a cheaper representation of a classic.

-People are so creative. I cannot believe they came up with this many different ways to interpret a 15-second segment, all from the same movie. I loved how they used other forms of media to narrate their segment (not even an entire scene) in a creative way:

   -News channel reports

   -Techno music video remixes

   -Infomercials

   -All types of animation

   -Digital media: Paint, MUD text, Social networking

-Consumerism is displayed here, as many people used Star Wars merchandise such as actions figures and costumes for their scenes. On that, some people had a lot of resources and talent, and others did not. Does that affect how we view their level of fandom?

-Are the filmmakers all diehard fans of the original movie, or do they just like to make movies in general? Does that even matter? How do you even measure fandom?

-How do I feel about those who actually incorporated REAL footage or sound effects from the original film? Is that blasphemous and disrespectful? Is that cheating? Did the producers of this project have any rules, or was every interpretation allowed?

-Do we judge or categorize a movie based on the type of people who watch it? (ie: chick flicks) Is that good or bad? Is there innate social status tied to fandom of certain genres?

-In this movie, the fans are entirely controlling our perception of the narrative. Is that causing me anxiety?

-Some of the funniest parts were the incorporation of non-related pop-cultural references into the sequences, like Simpsons and Disney dolls. What does that say about us, and our love of—and dependency on—popular culture to make us laugh?

-SOUND:

-The constant non-diegetic orchestration unified the movie and attempted to keep me immersed in the world of the film.

-Dialogue format: original recording, subtitles, other languages, modernized colloquialisms, children’s book format, etc.

-The humming of the famous non-diegetic motifs made them diegetic, and got the most laughs. But WHY?

-How much enjoyment and satisfaction did the filmmakers feel for their 15 seconds of “fame”? 

-This project put all the workload on the fans, thus switching the relationship between PRODUCERS and CONSUMERS:

-The 1977 Original Film: Producers (the original makers and distributors) had to do all the work, while the consumers just had to buy it and watch it.

-The 2012 Fan-Based Film: Producers just had to distribute the clips to the consumers and piece them back together. The consumers had to do all the work. Thus the consumers became the producers, and the producers became the consumers. Though the consumers did return to their role, consuming their product in full, once the producers returned to their role, and produced the film.

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All of my thoughts relate to Jenkins’s main concepts: “Convergence” is the flow of content across multiple media platforms, the cooperation between multiple media industries, and the migratory behavior or media audiences who search to obtain entertainment. It involves technological, industrial, cultural, and social changes. It depends on the consumer’s active participation to seek out new information and make connections among different media content. This establishes a “Participatory Culture,” where everyone is interacting with each other according to a new set of rules and resources, built upon a “Collective intelligence”: no one knows everything but we all know something, and together as the consumers/participators, we become our own source of media power, and can co-produce within the world of converging media.

#9) New Media: Technologies and Texts

The following two quotes in italics are from this site, that was built to raise money for the funding of HOLLOW: An Interactive Documentary: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/elainemcmillion/hollow-an-interactive-documentary

Tagline: “Exploring the issues and future of rural America through the eyes and ideas of those living in Southern West Virginia.”

A tweet: “Help Doc Filmmakers: Today’s film “Hollow” is an idea that could change small towns across the U.S.!”

In the introduction to Media Microecology, Bogost mentions that some scholars and journalists such as Nicholas Carr believe that the internet holds a significant amount of responsibility in contributing to “a decline in the careful, reasoned, imaginative mind.” He argues that while many naively believe that the world wide web and all of its information at our fingertips makes us feel like we are instantaneously becoming smarter and more cultured, “this feeling is a fleeting one, the burst of energy from a sugary snack instead of a lasting nourishment from a wholesome meal.” (1) While Bogost does not negate this argument, he offers a less forceful or definitive answer, by expressing his ideology that “technology neither saves nor condemns us. It influences us, of course, changing how we perceive, conceive of, and interact with our world…it structures and informs our understanding and behavior.” (2)

Therefore, the existence of the internet does not just serve as a tool to help us express ourselves or gain information about the world; it actually takes on a more active role in our lives by transforming our whole comprehension of information, and the way in which we gain, share, and interact with it. We would be different people because how we think, feel, and act would not be filtered or function through the world wide web if it did not exist. Media texts and technologies are, after all, “an extension of ourselves” as McLuhan stated (2). To break down just how influential and manipulative a medium is, we should specifically study the many ways it functions in our lives: the choices we make, our opinions of the world around us, etc. In Bogost’s words, “One way to grasp a medium’s cultural influence is to examine how much of that field of uses has been explored. This approach represents a shift in how we encounter media artifacts as creators, users, and critics.” (3)

Hollow: An Interactive Documentary is a unique experience where any person who possesses the internet can go to their website and watch a free documentary on the people who live McDowell County, West Virginia, one of the poorest part of the United States. As our class watched this video while Reilly manipulated the computer screen, clicking on buttons and scrolling through pages like a digital patchwork quilt of different characters and stories, I noticed that the medium was always present in our minds because our constant participation was required in order to view different “scenes.” Putting the documentary online instantly gives the medium a strong role that you cannot forget about; the computer (and its internet) becomes the actual body of the film, and you are the controller of the entire experience. This is how we view the Internet and its functions in general: it is built to serve our needs, and we expect to be in constant control of what we see and do on it. 

 If McLuhan is to be justified in concluding that “the medium is the message,” then it is expected that we as viewers use the interactive internet experience to determine and connect the themes of the material to the way in which it is presented, “for the ‘message’ of any medium of technology is the change of scale or pace or pattern that it introduces to human affairs.” (McLuhan 130) The human affairs of McDowell county are put on display, and just like its residents who live with limited resources, the internet medium gives the viewer the ability to choose what they watch, but not the freedom to choose the choices. As Reilly manipulated the mouse and carried us through this experience, it was not an option to skip ahead to another slide without following the order of the videos, like a board game. We had to travel through the different home screens with various characters, quotes, and diegetic sounds to get to the next page. No skipping. So in a way, we still got exposed to all the choices (resources), yet got to choose how we would be involved with them.

This was one of my favorite quotes from the film: “How do we get people out of this mindset, that they are owed?” For example, if young girls get pregnant, the government will pay for their welfare. This is quite like the internet; we are so spoiled and privileged to an extent, that we assume Wikipedia will do all of the work for us, in providing us with correct research and documentation of factual topics. We are lazy when it comes to technology sometimes, much like the unfortunate stereotype of the people in this county. Yet the individuals interviewed mold our NEW perspective of McDowell County, and as I’m sure you noticed, the people were all very motivated by a spirit of hope and progression for the future; these individuals desire to reestablish their community, get the attention away from their severe drug problem, and make it more of a tourist spot, therefore creating “a safety net for the town.”

In relation to new media and the pertinence of exploring its functions, the media molds the way in which we perceive this town. Those who were interviewed (or volunteered) for this documentary are the smaller percentage of the type of people you would actually see in this town. The people who make up their population at large—elderly, young single mothers, children—were not interviewed. Thus while it is wonderful that they are working to make the community better, this is the ideology of the people in the movie and are not necessarily how the majority feels or acts. Thus this documentary (and all documentaries) record the truth that they WANT to establish as the truth, and we do not really see the rest. The structure of this documentary experience for the viewers is quite like that. We can take part and have a “voice” in the sense of choosing what we click on, or the surveys we take throughout the different screens. This involvement could make us feel like we are in control and are making a difference by affecting the percentage of a statistic on a demographic. Yet it is so small in comparison to the big picture.  Regardless, we do help to mold what people think and feel by leaving comments, or telling others about this video, which is very easy to do since the documentary is public domain, so we can just send someone a link. They don’t need to track it down or buy it. The function of advertising essentially becomes easier, and also molds how we perceive the world, particularly McDowell County, West Virginia. Overall, putting a film online makes it more accessible, more public; it gives it a more permanent life expectancy, and makes it easier to share with others.

The medium becomes the message in that to make a change or to get the full experience (in life, and in the movie) you have to be actively involved. It could be off-putting and annoying, the amount of commitment and participation that is involved; you cannot just sit back and watch this film and doze off or do something else as it plays in the background; the movie only moves forward when you move it forward. But I do believe that systematically, this was the plan all along: to put the viewers (the global community) in charge of their involvement with their exposure to the stories of a poverty-stricken community. It sends awareness out and makes it much less of a “digital “sugary snack” and more of an important performance art piece, in that the personal is political. You feel that since you are taking the time and energy to engage with the material on an active level, that you become invested in their stories and in the town, and now must do something to help their political cause, most likely by using the internet. Thus the medium IS the message because “it is the medium that shapes and controls the scale and form of human association and action.” (McLuhan 130)

#8) Race, Ethnicity and Culture

In “The Wretched of the Earth,” Frantz Fanon observed how a culture’s reflections of the past change throughout generations when their oral traditions develop out of colonized territories:

“…the oral traditions—stories, epics, and songs of the people—which formerly were filed away as set pieces are now beginning to change. The storytellers who used to relate inert episodes now bring them alive and introduce into them modifications which are increasingly fundamental. There is a tendency to bring conflicts up to date and to modernize the kinds of struggle which the stories evoke, together with the names of heroes and the types of weapons.”(1442)

In his 2000 film, Bamboozled, Spike Lee satirizes the black culture in new millennial America by modifying how black face minstrel shows are used in entertainment; the blacks now don black face. This narrative brings old references up to date, and forces every American, regardless of ethnicity, to consider how we depict the “heroes” and “weapons” within our own culture, and how that relates to our view of race.

The ethnicity commonly called “black” is known for its “heroes” in entertainment, like music, dance, and athletics. Blacks are depicted as containing a soulful spirit, rich and lively behavior and expressive mannerisms. Thus we could deduce that the black culture has a strong voice both literally and figuratively. Here lies the irony: the voice of blacks throughout history, according to Lee’s film, has always come from the mouths of white privileged individuals, who form the way we think and experience black culture as a whole. Through black face, slapstick, and an eerie embrace of the offensive term “nigger,” Spike Lee conveys how racism is a ubiquitous, uncontrollable double-edged sword founded on power, perception, and personal politics. I will hone in on the complex and arbitrary nature of racism by highlighting the film’s depiction of the white man in power, the controversial communitas brought about by black face, and the disturbing, yet compulsory weapon of “racism” within comedy.

            The definition of racism, according to Stam and Spence, is “the generalized and final assigning of values to real or imaginary differences, to the accuser’s benefit and at his victim’s expense, in order to justify the former’s own privilege or aggression” (879). This is how I am referring to racism throughout this post: an ideology that keen differences can establish one person as ‘better’ than another, and cause them to ‘justifiably’ act accordingly. Thomas Dunwitty, the producer of CSN television network, is satirized as the powerful white man. Yet the irony is that in his demeanor, he is “blacker” than his writer, Pierre de la Croix. Dunwitty strongly desires to create a more truthful black television show, unlike The Cosby Show, which is essentially “white people with black faces.” To him, white shows are too clean, antiseptic, and boring. So he wants Pierre to counter this and write the way black people really are. He believes that will help his ratings because “black people set the trends, the styles.” Here, he seems to be praising the blacks by using their accent and jargon, mannerisms, and covering his office with pictures of “black brothers”: famous musicians and athletes. He desires truth in the televised representation of blacks, yet he himself is a false representation of his own race; he is a white man, attempting to give blacks an honest voice through his own voice (literally). The level of offense (and/or racism) here is quite layered: he could offend both blacks AND whites by how he represents black AND white culture through his discussion and behavior. This exemplifies how racism is multilayered and comments on both the offender and the offended, the colonizer and the colonized, and complicates a clear division between a people’s “heroes” and “weapons.” Yet is racism really a "weapon" that can control who and HOW it hurts?

            While Dunwitty believes he is being heroic by praising and admiring blacks for being “cool,” Pierre and Sloan (his assistant) translate Dunwitty’s words to mean that he wants a show where blacks are funny, lazy, ignorant, and unwitting buffoons. Therefore to get himself fired, Pierre creates a very offensive show called Mantan: The New Millennium Minstrel Show to become the NEW “stories, epics, and songs of the people” by satirizing the representation of blacks from the early twentieth century. Then the audience’s inevitable disapproval of the black actors in black face would show how brainshwashed Dunwitty was by his own white supremacy. Furthermore, it would show how far America has come in establishing ethics of equality and acceptance. However, to Pierre’s surprise…the show is a hit.

So what does this success mean? Is it a good or bad thing? In the show, blacks are seemingly accepting and embracing the criticism of their own kind, so they could seemingly be gaining the “power” back by owning the joke, rather than allowing themselves to be ridiculed. Yet is the playing field even now? At the show’s peak in popularity, the entire audience wears black face, red lips, white gloves, black t-shirts with the show logo, and calls themselves a nigger. Everyone looks exactly the same. They seem to be accepting and enjoying the ridicule and subconsciously stumbling upon a sense of unity; all races are laughing at the same things, and dressing up to represent the thing they are laughing at. So does that mean racist is gone, since everyone is “equal”?

To help me better understand what Manray and Womack went through each night, struggling to paint their faces, I pictured myself being asked to paint my face ghost white, and to act “whiter.” By reflecting on this parallel, I realized that the art of black face demonstrates how race, ethnicity, and culture are inherently ALL structures of PERFORMANCE. Every day, we perform our race and culture, and our race and culture perform us. Black face makes someone invisible because they are no longer themselves; then are a performance of a skin color, which can be bought and sold, just like the masks and souvenirs.

“Niggas is a beautiful thang!” Honeycutt cries with black face on, seemingly embracing the race, while black protestors proclaim: “Painted face, disgrace to the race!” So which one is it? A disgrace or an embrace? It is all based on how you perceive the performance of race, and how much power you perceive to have over your own identity. Pierre’s line, “I don’t want to have anything to do with black for at least a week” demonstrates how identity is a performative quality. Black, to him, is something that you can turn off and on. Something you can control.

The end of Fanon’s paragraph on oral traditions reads, “The formula ‘This all happened long ago’ is substituted with that of ‘What we are going to speak of happened somewhere else, but it might well have happened here today, and it might happen tomorrow.” (1442) This reflects the radio interview, where Pierre, attempting to defend his show, points out that issues such as racism are not about dates or time periods. Slave mentality and prejudice can show up at any time. So to move a people to change, they have to see and experience racism up front to know how ridiculous and harmful it is. So Pierre could arguably be saying that comedy, which is built upon people finding humor in the differences between them and the characters (the characters act dumb, for example, and the audience is smarter) is always inherently “racist,” even if it has nothing to do with race. After all, he says, “The best defense is offense.” So if racism is the offense, then humor, to Pierre, is the necessary and obligatory defense.

This complex nature and interesting relationship between racism and comedic representation correlates with a quote by Stam and Spence: 

“A comprehensive methodology must pay attention to the mediations which intervene between ‘reality’ and representation. Its emphasis should be on narrative structure, genre conventions, and cinematic style rather than on perfect correctness of representation or fidelity to an original ‘real’ model or prototype.” 

Bamboozled, likewise, is not a real story; it is a pastiche and satire, representing blacks in millennial America. Thus Spike Lee supports this complex methodology that the interventions between the real and the representation should be emphasized in the discourse on racism. We should examine the performativity and perception of power among diverse races, cultures, and ethnicities, and how they translate into fluctuating oral traditions with ever-changing "heroes" and "weapons". 

#7) Gender & Sexuality

In “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” writer and filmmaker Laura Mulvey analyzes how gender and sexuality are codified in classic Hollywood cinema. She concludes that since males dominated film production during 1930-1954, they utilized this medium to create narratives that feed the male-structured sense of pleasure and beauty. Through the Freudian term “scopophilia”—the unhealthy pleasure in looking at a woman but not touching or interacting—women become the object of a male’s controlling gaze. Mulvey also elaborates on how Lacan’s “mirror stage” is reflected (pun intended) in filmmaking because men derive satisfaction from identifying with an ideal image on the screen. This is a form of narcissism, which, according to Mulvey, ultimately becomes unbearable to the male viewer, forcing him to “deflect the tension by splitting his gaze between spectacle and narrative.” (2082) Furthermore, this erotic figure is threatening because the female represents the fear of castration in a male. The main method in disarming this threat is through voyeurism, “investigating the female, demystifying her, and either denouncing, punishing, or saving her.” (2082)

In Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 romance thriller, Vertigo, Mulvey’s theories are exemplified through John’s relationship with and behavior toward Madeleine Elster and/or Judy Barton. John “Scottie” Ferguson is asked by Madeleine’s husband to follow her and find out where she goes everyday because the women in her family have a history of mental illness that causes them to attempt suicide. Thus from the very beginning, once John sets eyes on the beautiful Madeleine, women are portrayed as mysterious, alluring, and in need of a man’s protection. This reflects how men enjoy the experience of scopophilia (Madeleine does not know she is being watched), and must utilize voyeurism to justify their fascination of the woman. He finds pleasure in investigating this female, yet he believes his motives are just because he ultimately stalks her to save her, which he does. 

            The cinematography matches John’s “peeping Tom” point of view since there are many camera shots of Madeleine from the back. This narrative and camera work creates a deeper message, exploiting how women are always being watched, observed and judged by men on a critical level...and this is just fine because that is a female’s purpose—to be manhandled mentally, emotionally and physically. This is exemplified when John saves Madeleine when she falls in the water. He then puts her in his car, takes her to his bachelor pad, undresses her, puts her in his bed, and lights a fire. When she wakes up, she is naked in his bed, as he stands over her, gazing at her. She then puts on his robe, sits in the living room by the fire, while he, again, stands near her. By falling into a trance, John was able to live his fantasy without her knowing. Again, this is a great example of voyeurism, yet it is at a higher level of intimacy (and creepiness): he is actually going through the motions without her knowing.

This scene also addresses this male ideology that all women are desperate, helpless, clueless, and always accepting of a man playing the role of their rescuer, hero, protector, and provider…or they are unaware of it because this is the societal structure, and there is no un-knowing it. There is no way to NOT be desired or desirable by a man so you must just go ahead and accept his advances and feed his hunger and selfish desires. This message is heightened because of Madeleine’s serene nature and her desperate cries of needing him and loving him. This fits the male dream of having complete control over the desires of a woman. I believe there is a strong sense of male pride here in that Madeleine is married to another man, and John is most likely gloating in her choice of him over her husband.

John’s obsession and entrancement of Madeleine is enhanced through the comparison to Midge, John’s good friend and ex-fiancée. Midge appears to be more masculine with her glasses, outspoken personality and less-alluring clothes. I loved the scene were Midge makes a portrait of herself to reflect the woman in the painting from the museum (the one Madeleine idolizes). When John does not find it funny, Midge gets so upset with herself. On a metaphorical level, she is creating a piece of art to reflect what she thinks John wants her to be—alluring and engaging. In a way, she is also making fun of him for being so fascinated with this woman that he does not know. Yet the biggest note here is that Midge feels she has to change her normal methods of communication to speak THE MAN’s language to try and make him want her. Since “the pleasure of the look is transferred to others” in Freud’s scopophilia, she was hoping his “looking” would be transferred to her.  

            This theme is amplified when Madeleine “dies” and John meets Judy Barton (the actress who was playing the fake Madeleine) and his “look” is transferred into her actual look; in other words, he wants her to look like Madeleine from top to bottom; therefore Judy instantly becomes John’s makeover project. In the clothing store, there is a “mirror” scene, which supports Lacan’s theories previously mentioned. John pushes Judy onto the mirror, where he can see himself looking at her and how they look together. Here he is also forcing her to look at herself, looking at him. So no matter where she looks in the mirror, there is no her without him; she is a reflection of his desires.

While Judy first resists this transformation, hoping that he can learn to love her (the real person under the façade of Madeleine) she finally gives in and says, “I’ll wear the clothes if you want me to. Just like me.” He says he will, but he truly doesn’t, due to the way her treats her when he figures out how he was duped all along. John never stops wanting the fantasy girl, the façade, the actress, the character, and he cannot handle the truth that he fell in love with a lie. Truly all John desired was to live in scopophilia, finding “pleasure in using another person as an object sexual stimulation through sight” (2087-2088).  It was never about the person; it was always about the projection of her, and the male sexual empowerment he felt by simply looking at her.

Through this analysis of an onscreen woman’s influence over the egos of male viewers—in the movie theater, behind the camera, or on camera—Mulvey invites screen theorists to examine how the location of the male “look” defines sexist cinematic themes and narratives. She also desires that we question how these effects could be altered to change our experience with film, particularly regarding the portrayal of women as the object and language of erotic male desire.              

#6) Post-Modernism and Post-Structuralism

According to Jean-Francois Lyotard, Post-Modernism is a careful dismantling of Modernism, observing how its systematic measurement of high and low art, and construction of universal meaning fails to hold any weight. There are in fact no hard and fast rules to the structure of art, representation, and meaning. Thus Post-Modernism is incredulous of any master narrative. It mixes different existing narratives to create a pastiche, resulting in something entirely new that purposely loses any feel of “reality” and embraces self-reflectivity. Lyotard elaborates in Defining the Postmodern: “…there is no longer a horizon of universalization, of general emancipation before the eyes of postmodern man, or in particular… The disappearance of this idea of progress within rationality and freedom would explain a certain tone, style or modus which are specific to postmodern architecture. I would say a sort of bricolage: the high frequency of quotations of elements from previous styles or periods (classical or modern), giving up the consideration of environment, and so on.” (1466).

The television show Community, depicting an unlikely group of friends that form a study group at Greendale Community College, has become a successful and unique cult classic due to its foundation of post-modern ideology in story and character structure. It typically bases its episodes on preexisting shows or genres: Muppetry, Claymation, Law and Order, Civil War Documentaries, to name a few. In this manner, the characters—especially the emotionally unavailable Abed Nadir, who chooses to only understand the world through movie and television references—seem to know that they are in a television show, and that their reality is constructed by means of preexisting media.

In Community’s episode “Contemporary American Poultry” (AKA: the Chicken Finger Episode), the camera freezes about a few minutes in to the action, and we hear a voiceover narration of Abed, revealing that this will be a mafia-themed episode. Thus through this style of narration, the show is self-reflective and self-aware, utilizing bricolage/pastiche to tell their story through “previous styles or periods.”

In The Precession of Simulacra, Jean Baudrillard extrapolates on Lyotard’s concept of the “loss of the real”, by labeling this new reality as a hyperreality, which is formed when we enter a simulation/simulacra (“murderers of the real”). In short, post-modernism forms representations of reality, which now become the reality; viewers are unaware that the original reality is gone, because the representation becomes its own reality. This is summarized in his four successive phases of the image/sign on page 1560:

1) The reflection of a basic reality

2) The masking and perversion of the basic reality

3) The masking the absence of a basic reality

4) The image bears no relation to any reality whatsoever. It is its own pure simulacrum.

Baudrillard labels contemporary consumer culture as the main culprit for society being bought (quite literally) into the simulacrum, totally unaware that the original reality (where you make choices and are in control of signs and signifiers, which is how you perceive all people, places, and things) has been replaced by a system ruled by the hyppereal: a culturally produced state of reality that is generated to provide work and profits. Here, the world is remade in the image of our desires. Consumer society provides a “precession of simulacra”: a parade of images that project a life that consumers are encouraged to try to live.

This is shown in this episode of Community because the study group uses the exploitation of the popular chicken fingers at lunch to create their own system of wants, needs, and functions. In simulacra, our natural needs or desires are essentially eliminated by desire stimulated by cultural discourse (advertising, media, etc.) The signs take priority over the thing signified. At Greendale, the chicken fingers became the need/desire for everyone at the school, so they became the sign of power. Just as in consumer culture, Abed points out that if you control what the people want (chicken), you can control what they will do to get it.

This leads to a loss of the real. For example, Shirley only receives attention by the sexy dreadlocks man because she is part of the power force possesses the chicken. He is essentially using her to get to the chicken, and Shirley is buying into this “new” reality, thinking that he actually likes her for her. But the loss of the real goes both ways: Abed says about the chicken “It was their food. And we were stealing it and giving it back to them like it was a favor.” The students outside the study group (the power force) were falling deeper into the simulacra and were now unaware that they did not HAVE to buy into their system of supply and demand; they were brainwashed into thinking that in order to get the chicken, they had to provide their own services (extra points on a test, tutoring, buying Troy a monkey, joining Pierce’s entourage, providing pampering services, etc.) and became sucked into the hyperreal. As Jeff says, “The universe goes by supply and demand. The more you take and use, the more it sends back to you.”

            This episode exemplifies how all authority and political economy is performative in nature. It is a myth. Power is just a simulation, where signs are given new signifiers, and due to consumerism, we let it happen. Here, the chicken represents power. Thus those possessing the chicken become a simulation of power, which they exploit. Their downfall and return to “the norm” reveals the effects of how hyperreality creates certain signs and signifiers, and then loses all sense of reality. Abed’s statement: “It turns out everyone has needs and everyone has functions” is reality, yet the hyperreality is that the functions and needs are decided for you, and you are unaware that you have surrendered your ability to assign meanings and value to things on your own.

This all relates back to Lyotard’s explanation of Post-Modern ideology: the loss of reality, a self-reflective narrative (art being able to comment on art, hyperrealities commenting on reality), incredulity to a master narrative (not wanting to give something one set meaning, therefore using many genres at once) and choosing the mix and match preexisting forms to create something new, that is free of one universal meaning or clear measure of progress or high/low art. Therefore Community is a perfect example of Post-Modernist ideals thriving in the formation of an ever-changing, self-reflective narrative that abandons the “real” and chooses to explore the multiple “meanings” behind different signs and signifiers in movies and other forms of media.

#5) Cultural Studies

            The study of culture correlates with the study of other important facets of human existence and interaction, such as historiography and performance. Furthermore, historiography explores how people choose to represent themselves simultaneously in the present and the past; the way in which history is recorded directly reflects a current culture and where they place importance, and how they choose to perceive those who came before. This is pertinent to media studies because we use all forms of media to capture, comment on, create and even recreate history and culture. As media and technology advance, and communication becomes easier (telephone, texting, email, skyping, etc.), the technology itself becomes a part of our culture, and an expression of who we are and how we interact. For example, the movies that a generation creates will always reflect what their current society found important, popular, interesting, relevant, etc. 

            So how exactly should we analyze culture, in order to better comprehend how culture exists and develops, and its relationship to our various methods of communication and media? Raymond Williams, wrote “The Analysis of Culture” and outlined three approaches to analyzing culture:

                        1) Lived culture: only fully accessible to those living in that time and place

2) Culture of a period: the recorded culture, of every kind, from art to the most everyday facts

3) Culture of Selective tradition: the factor connecting lived culture and period cultures.

This order reflects the changes that occur as we move further and further from the original culture, and attempt to recreate it for our current culture. To elaborate on selective tradition, Williams states, “From the whole body of activities, certain things are selected for value and emphasis. In general this selection will reflect the organization of the period as a whole, though this does not mean that the values and emphases will later be confirmed.” So people today can emphasize certain people, places, or events from the past, but it is still possible that we are remembering them or perceiving them incorrectly, or giving them the wrong amount of significance, compared to how they were experienced in the “lived culture.”

            In the 2008 film, Be Kind Rewind, these approaches to cultural studies are explored, particularly the culture of selective tradition. This film creates a commentary on how media and recording inevitably factor in (and record) the current culture in which it was recorded, even if it attempts to reenact a moment from the past. In order to save Mr. Fletcher’s video store from being demolished, Jerry and Mike rally up their community and create a video on the history of Fats Waller, a famous jazz musician from the 1920’s who supposedly was born in that building. The truth is, the building is not a historical landmark because Fats was NOT actually born there; Mr. Fletcher just told Mike that when he was young so that he would be proud to live there himself. The town mainly knows Fats Waller from using analysis approach #2: “culture of a period.” They listen to his music, see pictures of him, etc. Only those who knew Fats Waller when he was alive could analyze it from approach #1, yet since that was so long ago, the people of this town use approach #3 of “culture of selective tradition” to reenact scenes and make them appear to be from Fats Waller’s life and time period. They interview people who follow a script and lie to the camera, claiming to have known him, testifying that he was indeed born in that building. Here, the town is putting emphasis on an event that did not actually happen; by creating this documentary, they are using media to create their own interpretation of history.

At the end of the film, as the town gathers together to watch their final project, their bright faces and feelings of success and pride are much bigger than the original goal to make a film about Fats Waller. They are not watching the film for historical accuracy or being proud of their town’s association with a famous jazz musician. Instead, this town experiences pride in watching the documentation of their individual roles in the film, and their ability to create a great movie together. At the end of the day, it really did not matter what the movie was about because the movie itself was more accurately a recording of THEIR culture, their town, their people, and what THEY found important: keeping their video store from being demolished, and supporting their friends.

Thus in their attempt to use approach #1 and display the life and times of Fats Waller (with the cardboard cutouts of cars, the old-fashioned clothes and instruments, the running fan in front of the video camera), these people were actually embracing #2 and #3. Yet this is because it is impossible for them to even approach #1 fully, because their recording will only ever be a recording of the culture in which they currently exist; the time period when it was actually filmed. Their media was advanced, even if they tried to make the camera footage look dated. Yet not capturing the 1920’s is nothing to be ashamed of; Williams explains how these approaches are inevitably different by the nature of time: “Theoretically, a period is recorded; in practice, this record is absorbed into a selective tradition; and both are different from the culture as lived: ‘No, that really isn’t what it was like; it is your version.’”

            These concepts are also highlighted in Mike and Jerry’s attempt to recreate many other films throughout the movie, particularly Ghostbusters. Since they no longer had a copy of the original, they had to recreate the scenes that they remembered the best, in the way they perceived them. By the same token, whenever we attempt to study or perform history, it will always be a reenactment to an extent. If we did not live in the culture, we are always creating our own version of what it was like, and the audience will always perceive it according to THEIR current culture. Thus how we write, act, use media, communicate, is always connected to our lived culture (our current time and place), and the recordings absorb over time into selective tradition.

#4) Media Effects

I did not budget my time effectively in order to complete this reading response on time. Sorry. :(

(I also feared I would not have enough to say about it, regarding the film and the reading.)

#3) Text & Genre

In American Film Genres (from Sharon’s notes), Rick Altman states that genres create a particular “world” and as audience members, “we follow its rules; when we enter into a genre film, all our decisions are self-consciously modified to support a different kind of satisfaction…From one genre to another, the genre spectator always participates in overly counter-cultural acts.” (280) As we become familiar with a genre, we begin to expect certain outcomes, characters, stylistic choices, etc. Then our satisfaction comes from the action in that world, which differs from our reality. For example, “in the western and the gangster film, we long for the spectacle of a type of violence that society roundly condemns.” (280) We could conclude that the motivation for recurring themes, motifs, and styles in genres is the unspoken situation of the people creating and finding pleasure in these genres. People’s ideologies are therefore reflected in their movies, and the way we interpret, categorize, or utilize the genre is a demonstration of our understanding of its purpose in our current culture and society.

In Paul Schrader’s Notes on Film Noir, he exemplifies how a genre naturally forms out of the issues and mindset of the time period. Film noir is rooted in America’s involvement in the world wars, thus it reflected post-war realism. It “suited America’s post-war mood; the public’s desire for a more honest and harsh view of America would not be satisfied by the same studio streets they had been watching for a dozen years…It was now taking place in the streets with everyday people.” (55) Furthermore, all characters had elements of secrecy, crime, and deceit to them, yet the satisfaction was found in the detective characters, attempting to stop the crime and solve the mystery to save the innocent and condemn the bad. America enjoyed this type of escape, where crime didn’t pay, yet an unrealistic state of happiness and bliss was not being shoved in their faces. The noir world was cold, dark, and sinister, formulating a nightmarish world of American mannerism, and creating artistic solutions to sociological problems.

In his essay, Ideology, Genre, and Auteur, Robin Wood states that genres “represent different strategies for dealing with the same ideological tensions.” Film noir is dealing with stresses and tensions (depression, pessimism, and hopelessness) in a very blatant and literal fashion, and we can still determine that from the stylistic choices because these same ideological tensions can be felt today through the film, and in our own society. Although this genre is used more ironically today (perhaps we believe we have advanced in our methods of storytelling for the screen, that film noir can no longer be taken seriously, due to its melodramatic “black and white” structure), the elements that make up the “noir” genre are still effective in addressing emotions of fear and a need for a hero.

In The Maltese Falcon (1941), the film noir elements are found within the cinematography, particularly regarding angles and lighting. As for lighting, much of the film’s deepest interrogations take place in the small detective office, at night, with the camera very close to a lit lamp. Furthermore, light often streamed in through the open blinds which established an eerie mood, as if the light resembled someone outside of the building, possibly spying on the intimate conversation taking place in tight quarters. The sharp, contrasting lights against the dark room (and the darkness outside) also accentuates the interrogation aspect of the conversation typically taking place: someone is being questioned about their involvement with or knowledge of a crime, for example. The lighting therefore intensifies the heat of the conversation, and the need to bring the dark, secretive things to light.

            The low camera angles, particularly in the office during an interrogation, makes the actors look taller and more menacing, since the camera is filming essentially from the ground up. Also, it was quite often that someone’s back was to the camera. While this is a pretty standard procedure for filming two characters talking to each other, it is more stylized and exaggerated in film noir to add to the mystery; this camera angle conceals the reactions of the other person (the listener), and makes it seem like the two people are therefore not seeing eye-to-eye. Perhaps one is hiding something from the other, which is often the case. This angle also makes the audience feel like they are not getting the full story or the full effect of the conversation, further highlighting the enigmatic and puzzling nature of the plot and characters’ true motives. There is a level of discomfort and distance felt when we are to look at someone’s back during a scene. We feel cut out from it—not in the conversation or able to “read the room.”

By using mainly medium shots and close-ups, the film is accenting the small, tight nature of the spaces in the shot. The camera consequently cannot reveal much of what is happening around them. It enhances the tension and the forced intimacy, which the detectives must create in order to get answers from those under question. This also intensifies the violence (physical and gun shots), and the sexual tension between Spade and Brigid. The close-up shots of her reflect the way in which Spade might be fooled by her attempt at looking innocent, or captivated and distracted by her beautiful, womanly features. Yet she receives her proper punishment at the end, thank goodness.

In conclusion, the formation and utilization of genres reflect the worlds into which people desire to escape, and the manner in which film can satisfy their needs, by creatively displaying their ideologies and societal issues at the time. The film noir genre/mood reflected the mental, psychological, and emotional state of the American people during and after the world wars, through the reflection of everyday people in real environments (not sets) dealing with the darkness of crime, deceit, and hopelessness. The cinematography accentuates this mood through the contrasting abilities of both lighting and camera angles. Yet viewers still received much satisfaction from the characters and plot. After all, crime never pays in the end. The whereabouts of the Maltese Falcon remain a mystery, and the crazy chick finally goes to jail. Justice is served.

#2) Authorship

I apologize that this response might be vague and unorganized like the last one, since I missed the lecture for this unit last week, and struggled to understand how the concepts might relate to this film. I really did try to structure my points, but know that I will do better in the future. For this film, I DID have comments on authorship in the film's diegetic music, lighting, and other cinematic elements, but did not discuss that here. Please let me know if that is something I SHOULD have discussed, or if it is enough to simply pick one film example. Basically, I'm not sure if it is better to pick ONE concept from the reading and use MANY different examples from the film, or to pick a few different concepts/quotes, and relate it to ONE example from the film. For this response, I have done more of the latter.

For this response, I focused on the statement by Peter Wollen: “The auteur theory does not limit itself to acclaiming the director as the main author of a film. It implies an operation of decipherment; it reveals authors where none had been seen before” (566). As a director, I have witnessed how the role of the director strongly impacts the entire narration of the piece. I control many of the crucial elements: mise en scene, blocking/movement, character development, music, etc. Yet the collaborative nature of theatre means that no matter what, the story is owned by and articulated through various “authors,” namely the playwright, actors, and spectators. While media is a different lens than theatre, these principals of copious authorship are still relevant.  John Ford’s film direction highlights the influences and authorship capabilities of voice-over narration, scenic shots, and film editing, which combine to represent thematic antinomies, such as the “civilized” versus the “savage.”

Ford’s award-winning film, How Green Was My Valley, (1941) supports Wollen’s critique of Ford’s exploration in authorship, particularly regarding binaries and their complex function in storytelling for film: “the system of oppositions is much more complex: instead of there being two broad strata of film there are a whole series of shifting variations. In these cases, we need to analyze the roles of the protagonists themselves, rather than simply the worlds in which they operate.” This quote guided my viewing of this film, serving as a tool for uncovering how Ford chose to structure Huw Morgan’s authorship of is own story, and his relationship with the world around him, both in the past and present. The opening voiceover of an adult Huw—“I am packing my belongings in the shawl my mother use to wear when she went to the market. And I’m going to my valley. And this time, I shall never return”—and the viewing of Huw as a young child, immediately establishes that the rest of the film will be the recapitulation of Huw’s childhood, and an exploration into how the green valleys have become overtaken with the blackness of the coal mines. Thus the physical exposure of the green-now-black valley creates this antinomy of a once civilized, yet now savaged world that has caused Huw to long for his childhood.

The rest of the film is a flashback of Huw’s young life, and the many tragic events that occurred, such as the mining strike, and death of his brother (Ivor) and father (Gwilym). By having the protagonist be a young child who mainly observes, it causes the authorship to fall into the hands of the older characters: Huw’s parents, brothers, sister, sister-in-law, teacher, and Mr. Gruffyd the new preacher. Thus even though these are Huw’s memories, he is more of a witness of the world around him. A protagonist is normally described as the one with the strong objectives, bringing about the main action in the story. Yet here, quite the opposite is taking place. So as we experience the film, should we reflect more on the older Hugh with his blackened valleys, or the younger Hugh with his greener valleys? It is intriguing how Ford has directed this film to reveal two different “authors” within the same character. This highlights the importance of narration and its relationship to time, which also highlights the binary relationship of the civilized and the savage, since this town goes from one to the other over time.

To elaborate further, by setting up this film as a memory tale where Huw is narrating his past (as the audience experiences it in the present), Ford is reflecting the concepts of Roland Barthes in The Death of the Author, who addresses two opposing views on storytelling in relation to time: “the author, when we believe in him, is always conceived as the past of his own book…that is, he pre-exists it, thinks, suffers, lives for it.” He then adds his rebuttal: “Quite the contrary, the modern writer (scriptor) is born simultaneously with his text; he is in no way supplied with a being which precedes or transcends his writing…there is no other time than that of the utterance, and every text is eternally written here and now” (4). In other words, once the piece is written, the author “dies” and their writing will always be experienced in present time, with the reader viewing things with their own mindset, opinions, and realities. The author’s existence does not factor into how their work will be received or interpreted. Likewise, as we view Ford’s film in real time, Huw (the “author” and narrator) basically fades into the background of his own story. The major events that happen are often not his doing, therefore, he is not depicted like the author or protagonist at all. Our experience with his memories is less about him, and more about the world in which he lives, and how we experience his past in the present. Yet with the narration of grown-up Huw, and the images of the valley at the beginning and end, Ford is directing us to recall this protagonist throughout the film, and reflect on how his actions, influences, and surroundings have caused him to long for his valley in present day.

In conclusion, binaries are definitely at play in Ford’s film: the author is “dead” enough to allow us the chance to experience his memories in real time, without the constant feeling that we are living through one character’s memory and feelings the entire time. Yet through the narration, older Huw remains the observant yet omniscient center of the entire film. This mixture of the past and present emphasizes how the civilized has become savaged over time, thus establishing a clear thematic binary, which is Ford's unique style: “My own view is that Ford’s work is much richer than that of Hawks and that this is revealed by a structural analysis; it is the richness of the shifting relations between antinomies in Ford’s work that makes him a great artist, beyond being simply an undoubted auteur” (575).