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Monday, January 07, 2008

Blogathon 2008

Contemplative Cinema Blogathon (6-13 January 2008)

CONTRIBUTIONS 2008
  1. The Wind Blows Where It Will by Tucker (at PilgrimAkimbo)
  2. Kagadanan Sa Banwaan Ning Mga Engkanto (2007) by Oggs Cruz (at Lessons From the School of Inattention)
  3. Autohystoria (2007) by Oggs Cruz (at Lessons From the School of Inattention)
  4. Voices, Tilted Screens and Extended Scenes of Loneliness: Filipinos in High Definition (2007) by Oggs Cruz (at Lessons From the School of Inattention)
  5. Dialogue vs. Duplicity: Notes on Syndromes and a Century and I Don't Want To Sleep Alone by Ryland Walker Knight (at The House Next Door)
  6. The Grit of Postsocialist Discourse: Aesthetic Realism in Jia ZhangKe's Platform and Unknown Pleasures by Edwin Mak (at Faster than instant noodles)
  7. Wrong Move & our institution of high art by Tucker (at PilgrimAkimbo)
  8. Huling Balyan ng Buhi (2006) by Oggs Cruz (at Lessons From the School of Inattention)
  9. Blessed are meek - The kite runner (2007) by Acumensch (at aeconomics)
  10. Voices; Syndromes and a Century and Autohystoria by Dodo Dayao (at Piling Piling Pelikula)
  11. Zhang Yuedong's Mid Afternoon Barks by Edwin Mak (at Faster than instant noodles)
  12. Contemplative Films as Art Films by weepingsam (at The Listening Ear)
  13. The Hook: Scene Transitions in Classical Cinema by David Bordwell (at David Bordwell's website on cinema)
  14. Kagadanan sa banwaan ning mga Engkanto (Death in the Land of Encantos, Lav Diaz, 2007) by Noel Vera (at Critics After Dark)
  15. The Root of Mutism by HarryTuttle (at Unspoken Cinema)
  16. Phantom Love (2007, Nina Menkes) by Filmsick (at Limiteless Cinema)
  17. Blissfully His by Nathan Lee (at Village Voice)
  18. Death in the Land of Encantos (Lav Diaz, The Philippines) By Robert Koehler (at Cinemascope)
  19. Encounters at the End of the World (Werner Herzog, US) By Jerry White (at Cinemascope)
  20. Still Light: Peter Lorre's morbid contemplation in 'Mad Love' By Glenn Kenny (at Premiere)
  21. On Pointing Camera by Dave (at Chained to the cinematheque)
  22. Paraguayan Hammock (2006) by Oggs Cruz (at Lessons From the School of Inattention)
  23. Father and Son (Alexander Sokurov) by Mike Grost (at Classic Film and Television)
  24. Castro Street (Bruce Baillie) by Mike Grost (at Classic Film and Television)
  25. Rag and Bone (James D. Parriott) by Mike Grost (at Classic Film and Television)
  26. The Wishing Ring (Maurice Tourneur) by Mike Grost (at Classic Film and Television)
  27. Chantal Akerman: Walking Woman by Adrian Martin (at Unspoken Cinema)
  28. Cafe Lumiere: 35mm poetry by Kunal Mehra (at The Wind Blows Where It Will)
  29. Approaching Colossal Youth by David Pratt-Robson (at videoarcadia)
  30. Time, Memory, Mystery, Narrative by Tucker (at PilgrimAkimbo). An examination of Andrey Tarkovsky's approach to time in cinema.
  31. Fate (1994, Fred Kelemen) by Filmsick (at Limitless Cinema)
  32. Fiant on contemporary mutic cinema by HarryTuttle (at Unspoken Cinema)
  33. Reflections on urban space, public screen and interactivity by Dong Liang (at Noira-Blanchè-Rougi)
  34. Andrei Rublev's duration. Speckled faith and running water and horses and a great big bell (part 1) by Ryland Walker Knight (at Vinyl is Images)
  35. Notes on Variations, Mostly by weepingsam (at The Listening Ear)
  36. Romney on the Contemplative trend by HarryTuttle (at Unspoken Cinema)
  37. (your new post here)

ROUNDTABLES

  1. CCC synopsis
  2. Experiential Cinema

ANTICIPATORY READING

HELP MENU

Sunday, January 06, 2008

CCC week opening

CONTEMPLATIVE BLOGATHON 2
Sunday 6th - Sunday 13th, January 2008

Contemporary Contemplative Cinema (a.k.a. CCC, take note) is mostly known and admired for its distinctive camerawork, pace, silence and visual style (long takes, stationary shots, landscapes). Yet I realize I always come back to narrative typologies when attempting to define this loose family of filmmakers, especially in reference to the mainstream codes of storytelling. Even though I'm usually a visual kind of spectator, with a visual memory and a penchant for mise-en-scene and composition, rather than music, plot and narrative content. But this trend I feel strongly about, without being able to delimited it yet, seems to me now to be a narrative breakthrough after all, rather than a truly visual novelty. Its aesthetism is largely shared with silent cinema mise-en-scene and the cinematography developed by the (modernist) precursors of the 60ies (which we discussed a lot last year).

But on a narrative basis, I believe there is something definitely unique created by these new plotless films. Of course we can argue about the reality of this absence of plot (total or truncated or minimized to the barest), or this non-narrativity (read the discussion by Durgnat and Rosenbaum on this subject here). There is always a form of plot and narration when a succession of images is involved. The question is how much narration there is and what is its role in the "reading" of the film. So we're going to talk about plot drive and narrative strategies specific to CCC (briefly described here).

I'm surprised by the number of sketptics we got last year, and how easily this suggestion of a trend was brushed off and forgotten. I know the word "contemplative" was an issue, though I still don't see anything wrong with it, and I noticed its growing (albeit rare) recurrence in CCC reviews. So the contemplation may come to mind when talking about some of these films. I'd like to read more anti-contemplative sceptics to better grasp the misunderstanding around this trend (which seems so natural to me I can't even explain it to myself). Anyway, this year, we'll move past this superficial consideration. Let's talk about these films now.

Well, if we failed to make sense of this trend as a new "stylistic movement", as the coherence between film styles too far apart is yet to demonstrate, then maybe we could try this time to see in there a new "narrative mode". Again this is a game play you may or may not want to take part in. And this blogathon is certainly not restricted to this nominal topic.
We are all here this week to celebrate Contemplative Cinema, (or to criticize and deconstruct it), in all its forms, whatever you want it to be. Welcome everyone, thank you very much for your future participation, I hope you'll enjoy it like last time around.

You may post your contribution(s) on this team-blog (you have until next Sunday to do so) if you requested to join (give me an email address where I can send an invitation, and open a Blogger account if you don't have one already). Or else you can notify us of your blogpost by leaving a link to your blog in the comments of this post or anywhere on the blog. I'll compile a list linking to all the contributions.

All contributions are listed here.

If you're not writing a post, you may join the discussions that will hopefully develop everywhere on this blog and on the participants' blogs.
Don't forget to use labels for further researches, and to put a link to your blog in your post. You may also use a CCC banner on your blog to link back here, if you want.

Since it's a collegial blog all suggestions and initiatives are most encouraged (opening roundtables, games, polls, volley-posts in reaction to another post, spawning a new topic from an idea arising in a comment-discussion...), so don't hesitate to create new posts here, however small or insignificant, be creative or territorial, there is no boss (I'm just the housekeeper here). Make yourself at home, treat this place like if it was your own blog. I'd like to see how an event-blog could be run by a spontaneous group of strangers (which we couldn't fully experience last year).
Every contribution is welcome, don't be shy!

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Blogathon Banners

Wide banner : 600 * 107 pix

Standard banner : 449 * 172 pix

Mini banner : 152* 50 pix

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The Wind Blows Where It Will

This post originally appeared over at PilgrimAkimbo on December 17th, 2007.

Unconsciousness of despair is like unconsciousness of dread: the dread characteristic of spiritlessness is recognizable precisely by the spiritless sense of security; but nevertheless dread is at the bottom of it, and when the enchantment of illusion is broken, when existence begins to totter, then too does despair manifest itself as that which was at the bottom.

-Kierkegaard, from The Sickness unto Death

What is a life without faith? Is it possible for such a life to sustain itself? The history of film is replete with stories of characters wrestling with who they are and what it is they truly believe. We don't get tired of such films, if they are honest, for that struggle is deep within each of us as well. Our souls resonate with that struggle. Maybe it's because we all know something about the dread at the bottom, even when we construct lives designed to deny it.

In Kunal Mehra's new film
The Wind Blows Where It Will (2007), Phillippe (played by Josh Boyle) is forced to confront the very foundations of his life. Phillipe's life is one carefully constructed of his own making. He lives a spartan existence of work, art, limited relationships, and few things. He is fastidious to an extreme. He likes to have everything in its place. He is also quiet, soft spoken, and thoughtful. But his carefully constructed world is as much an illusion as it is real. In the beginning he does not realize just how fragile is his world.

We get a hint that all is not well early in the film when Philippe waits for Jeanne (played by Wendy Harmon), his girlfriend, to arrive by train. As he quietly waits in the half-light of the station, Philippe is alone and longing for Jeanne's arrival. [Note: for some reason my screengrabs are much darker and less rich than the DVD.]





When the train finally arrives he watches the passengers exit the platform.



But when Jeanne finally enters the picture she comes from a direction Philippe did not expect.



One could consider this slight miscue as being merely the subtle differences between two people, or even the differences between the sexes. But is it not in the little things that the world turns? Philippe will soon find out how deep the differences are.

Once they arrive at his apartment Philippe tries to get close to Jeanne.



He tries to kiss her, to physically connect, but she denies him. Like Philippe we don't know why, but she has her reasons, and her reasons are not part of this story. The next day Philippe must begin to face a future without Jeanne. What we have here is the beginning of an unravelling, and that unravelling what the remainder of the film explores.

Since I am an honest sort, I will say that this is not truly a review of The Wind Blows Where It Will, for I am not a critic or film reviewer per se. My interest is not so much in the what, but in the how. And more specifically, I want to explore the idea of a contemplative cinema with this film as one example. I have written elsewhere on the topic of contemplative cinema
here, here, and here. I have to say my thoughts are still in the formative stage, and may always be.

The stylistic heritage of The Wind Blows Where It Will is rooted in films like
Pickpocket (1959) or The Sacrifice (1986), in which the arch of a soul is foregrounded over and above the machinations of plot. This difference is often the difference between contemplative film and other forms. Here we have a rather simple story on its surface; a man's girlfriend decides she must leave him, he tries to sort out what this all means, meets some friends along the way, wanders through the city, and then makes a fateful decision. However, it is not the surface that the film is concerned about, it is the interior life of Phillippe. But how does a film convey that interior life? There are a number of choices, such as voice over narration, or by having the character explain his thoughts to another.

Another way is through observation, that is, point the camera at the character in question and let life play itself out. In this case the camera becomes a kind of sociological/psychological recording device that searches for clues as to what must be going on inside the character. This is the primary method of The Wind Blows Where It Will.

One can see this process at work in this single shot. The scene is Phillippe and a former girlfriend exiting a restaurant where they happened to run into each other. They exit the building, stand outside, talk, hug, talk a little more, and then walk away in opposite directions. We can hear the sounds of traffic and even their footsteps, but we do not hear what they say.



What is interesting is that this shot is in long shot the entire time and the shot lasts for almost a minute, much longer than a more conventional film.

Another example comes after this scene when Phillippe goes back to his apartment carefully hangs up his coat, changes in pajamas, pours himself a glass of wine, waters his plant, and then this...



He stands against the wall with his wine glass, thinking. Then he exits the shot.



We hear classical music begin and he then re-enters the shots and goes back to where he was.



He listens.



He hears sounds of a television switched on in the apartment next door.



He exits the shot again. We hear the classical music stop.



He returns but does not get his wine. Sounds of the television continue.



He lowers himself down to the floor.



He sits there thinking.



This whole episode lasts nearly two and a half minutes. There is no dialogue, and we have not heard any dialogue in the film for a couple of minutes prior to these shots. What is happening here? As far as plot is concerned very little. As far as Phillippe's inward state, maybe quite a lot. But what exactly? Discovering that is what the film calls the viewer to do, to participate in.

This sort of story telling is not about the exterior, but the interior. The film's style calls attention to itself by using long takes and little dialogue. But that process of distancing is not to push the viewer away, but to call the viewer to a different experience than merely a train ride through a series of plot points. The viewer must slow down and take in the process - both of Phillippe and of the viewing experience. It is an opportunity for the viewer to plumb the depths of her own soul. This is one key aspect of contemplative cinema.

Both the strength and weakness of this method of storytelling is that it leaves a lot up to the audience. Such films rely on what the viewer brings to the viewing process. In other words, the old adage that one gets out of the film what one brings to the film is critical here. For example, it might help to know the title of the film comes from a famous verse of Christian scripture (John 3:8):

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.
It might also be worth noting that the full title of Bresson's A Man Escaped (1956) is Un condamné à mort s'est échappé ou Le vent souffle où il veut, where Le vent souffle où il veut is from the same Bible verse.

The reason I say it might be helpful to know these things is because with a contemplative film one often has to make one's interpretive case, has to argue for one's position as it were, because the film's meaning is not obvious. Therefore clues and connections become particularly important. Given the fact that the crux of Phillippe's personal battle with himself revolves around the question of faith becomes even more interesting in light of both the Biblical and cinematic connections derived from the film's title. A question to ask is whether the film's conclusion is also an escape for Phillippe.

I said this is not a review, but I feel that I should offer up some kind of evaluation. The Wind Blows Where It Will does not rank with the likes from Bresson or Tarkovsky, but it is a good film, and it portends good things for Kunal Mehra's directing future. I look forward to his next film. The acting from all cast members if very good. Josh Boyle is particularly wonderful as Phillippe - keep in mind that Josh was in every scene and in virtually every shot. The digital camera work by Aron Noll is also quite excellent. What I find most promising and fun to consider is how a quality feature film like this can get created these days with limited budget, a small crew, and far outside of the Hollywood landscape, and yet seem to carry more than its own weight. I am also excited to see filmmaking like this occur just down the road from me. My own production experience has taught me that just making a film, let alone one of this quality, is a difficult and challenging undertaking. I commend Mehra's obvious tenacity as well as his desire to make films that seek to understand the soul when so many filmmakers seem to avoid it.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Non-narrative film criticism

Obscure Objects of Desire: A Jam Session on Non-Narrative
By Raymond Durgnat, David Ehrenstein and Jonathan Rosenbaum
(Film Comment, July-August 1978) available online at Light Sleeper.


Adrian Martin recommended me this roundtable organised by Jonathan Rosenbaum, 30 years ago, precisely on one of the theme I wanted to expand upon on this upcoming blogathon. So it will be a very valuable preparatory reading for further discussions.
Although the premise of their discussion is about writing non-narrative reviews without making sense of an eventual plot, in films either non-linear (mainstream) or nonsensical (Avant Garde), most of what they bring forth could as well apply to C.C.C. (where narrative is rather minimalistic than actually non-linear or nonsensical). The point being to approach cinema from a visual sensibility, opposed to the literary framework of a plot-driven synopsis.

Note : A survey of the various typologies of plot structures in CCC would be another interesting study to note the commonality and peculiarities. I don't think plots in CCC are necessarily complicated or poetical. They are often very basic, and don't play much role in the overall atmosphere of the film.
JONATHAN ROSENBAUM (roundtable introduction) : To broach a subject and isolate a problem that most film criticism represses, stumbles over, or refuses to acknowledge, preferring to stick to the authoritarian guidelines of the synopsis and the plot summary. "Telling a story" (...) becomes a singular grid through which all the diverse structures and operations of movies can theoretically be apprehended, codified, and converted into meanings. (...) Peter Gidal addresses a related question when he complains about several critics interpreting even Michael Snow films in relation to narrative models. The problem is, Gidal’s definitions and descriptions of non-narrative structures are nearly all negative indications. What we need are some positive ones.

That's one of the key concerns about CCC, they are called "boring art films", "festival films", slow. They emphasize on what CCC doesn't do, in comparison to the usual expectations from mainstream cinema, instead of judging them for what they do ambition to achieve. So CCC films are systematically portrayed in "negative" terms (not necessarily pejorative but contrasted to a positive norm), and defended in terms moderating the weight of non-mainstream traits :
"It's not as boring as we'd expect", "it's long but I didn't see time pass by", "We have no problem to follow the story even without much dialogue"...
Adrian Martin mentioned the same problem for Avant Garde cinema, which is compared to the Mainstream norm by critics, who fail to understand that this norm doesn't apply.

RAYMOND DURGNAT: No, it’s a question of defining relations. Semiologists often assume that you start from units and then define the relationships between them by certain syntactical procedures. But the alternative approach, taken from structuralism in the life sciences, or Gestalt psychology, or many different positions in philosophy, is that units are only phases in structures. You don’t start from the unit, you start from the structure ... You have to distinguish among movement, action, event, and narrative. They’re four completely different things, or rather the last three shade into each other. But time and time again people imply that movement entails narrative, making film a mainly narrative act. Yet movement often isn’t even action. All the leaves moving around on a tree don’t constitute as many narratives as there are leaves. (...)
Or let’s consider Vigo, times three. I don’t think one could describe A Propos de Nice as narrative. In Zero de Conduite, there is a narrative, and it does make sense, but nonetheless it’s just a broad structure, or rather just a drift, and the meat is the heavy atmospherics wound around and around the plot, at right angles to it.

Here is an interesting angle to explore for us. What are the functions and nature of "movement", "action", "event" and "narrative" in CCC?
I especially like the tree-leaves analogy. It's a matter of perspective scale. The unit is either the leaf or the tree, depending on what scale is considered. All the shots don't necessarily constitute a narrative point, we should be able to consider the film as a whole, and the blank spaces (slow long-takes, empty frames) as one of many leaves that build the overall shape of the tree we are looking at. We shouldn't expect a meaningful message or an action in every shot. The film is a flow and we experience the length of a film in its entirety, with its time dedicated to "movements without action" and its time dedicated to "events with narrative progression". And these movements are as important as the action in cinema. Especially in CCC.

JONATHAN ROSENBAUM: The guiltless pursuit of desire that they espouse is like a sensual dive into non-narrative, a constellation of wants that shine in different directions, make individual demands, create a stampede rather than get herded together on one cattle car that is headed for the slaughterhouse. That may sound like a brutal metaphor for narrative, but the functional structure of the cattle car and the story in relation to the occupant (whether it’s a character or a spectator) is quite similar. (...)
Theoretically you could say that this process [disintegration of a single continuous thread] takes place at one point or another in every film, whenever one’s attention becomes discontinuous. The synopsis is therefore not only a life preserver for the less courageous, but a Platonic model of the way we’re "supposed" to read films, of films as they’re "supposed" to be read.

I wouldn't blame traditional mainstream narration in genre cinema myself. It has its own rational and its legit purpose. There is an audience for it, who ask to be herded and cued for a submissive escapism.Though, the readership of mainstream criticism is enslaved by this plot-drive indeed. And every film, mainstream or contemplative or experimental, must fit in a predefined template, a capsule summary, an abstract giving the protagonists and the argument.
They denounced this lazy practice 30 years ago, and film reviewing has not improved since on this aspect...

RAYMOND DURGNAT: Narrative is run largely by the laws of music. When Truffaut compares a film to a circus in which there’s a sequence of contrasting moods, he’s absolutely right. In 42nd Street each of the Busby Berkeley numbers is an elongation of a static situation. They’re states lyricized rather than sequences of actions decisively changing states. Many writers, especially poets, begin with a feeling -- what they’ve got to put before you is a state of mind, which in itself is complex and simultaneous, a vertical structure but in a sequential order. Verse form often functions as a kind of binding over the sequentiality, by regular repetition and rhythm.
(...)
RAYMOND DURGNAT: The pacing of the plot is always lost amongst a swarm of conspicuous details that have to do with the kind of physical integrity of the scene, or act like digressions.
(...)
JONATHAN ROSENBAUM: It’s almost as if the physical details on the screen become a rhythmic structure, and the plot disappears into the rhythmic pacing of the details, as in a mosaic. Finally temps morts are becoming important in Hollywood, which has finally picked up on neo-realism, and picked up on this interesting nitty-gritty mosaic of detail.


The musicals may seem far away from CCC, but the example of Busby Berkeley is an interesting alternative (body language) abstraction (although highly codified and choreographed) to the traditional mainstream narrative. So in this sense, it also eshews dialogue and plot to convey an atmospherical experience of cinema, rather than rely on a word-driven walk-through. And as far as what Durgnat exposed earlier, we find the same distinction between movement and action, with a focus on rhythm and flow that could theoretically correspond to the spirit of CCC. Even some Contemplative filmmakers of the Méliès tradition (Column G : Contemplative Fantasy) resort to this kind of lyrical staging of bodies (albeit without heavy music), like Barney (Cremaster, DR9), Suleiman (Divine Intervention), Tsai Ming-Liang (The Hole, The Wayward Cloud), Sokurov (Russian Ark) or Opera Jawa...