King Kong

  I originally wanted to write on the overtly racist and sexual themes that come through in the film, mainly because it’s fascinating to see how social standards have changed since then. The representation of the indigenous people and the attitudes towards females is nothing short of degrading and is shocking to watch.  It makes me think... imagine living in the 1930s. When social roles were so distinct that lines like, "Women can't help being a bother" could be said earnestly and in all seriousness. I watched this film in the library and actually laughed out loud at how absurd some of the scenes are. From a cultural perspective, it reveals so much about early American society and social norms before the Cultural Revolution of the 60s.

   In spite of the discrimination, I thoroughly enjoyed the film, and many aspects of it actually reminded me of the other, more abstract, films we've viewed in class. 

   For example, just like Rose Hobart, I felt the film constantly alluded to a Freudian idea of female sexuality. Pretty white girl has an affair with an exotic beast, beast keeps her safe from outside danger, they enter the beast's lair (the lair itself alludes to female sexual imagery) but she is saved at the very last minute by a handsome white man, and ultimately discovers she is safer in the hands of the traditional and socially acceptable male. The symbolism seems too obvious.  

   However, there were also moments within this film that reminded me of “Man With the Movie Camera”.   I am thinking mainly of the scene inside the auditorium, when King Kong is about to be revealed to an audience. (The fact that the cinema is the transition from jungle to city seems symbolic of something, but I can't quite put my finger on it.) The scene of the auditorium, just like in "Man With the Movie Camera", made me completely aware of my role as observer. 

(As the people file into the auditorium, an older woman complains about being too close to the screen, and a man goes, "This is not a moving picture", when, in fact, that's exactly what it is. It reminded me of a riddle: A person draws a picture of a box on a piece of paper, points to it, and tells the person next to him, "This is not a box". Of course it's not a box.... it's a drawing of a box.)   

   I was also aware of my status as an observer when the filmmaker is taking profile shots of Anne on the ship. The face she makes in following the director's coaching is the same reaction she makes when actually seeing the beast, and is repeated throughout the film. It made me completely aware of her role as an actress.

   In observing these themes as they recur across various Modern films, it seems that there is a certain sense of apprehension surrounding the role of filmmaker and the concept of documentation. I read another blog that mentioned the idea of "surveillance", and it made me think that perhaps this is what many felt toward the concept of filmmaking. Perhaps, to them, film was a cool art form, but somewhat off-putting in its concept and capabilities. 

   Oh, and look how weird this move looks in color:

http://youtu.be/8sVRBkolRsw

The Fountainhead

   After reading the book, I couldn’t help but view the film as an adaptation or as the representation of somebody’s opinion of the book via a different medium. However, the fact that Rand, the author of the original text, also adapted her own screenplay complicates this idea of perception. 

   In the film, we see what Rand believes to be the most central issues in the novel, which obviously revolve around her theories of Objectivism and the individuality of human spirit. In holding true to the integrity of man's creation, the characters in the film present Rand's ideas exactly as she wants them portrayed. This is made obvious through the dialogue, which is usually unembellished and oftentimes sounds like an exchange of monologues. Personally, I felt that Rand's choice to maintain the exact dialogue of the text diminished the ultimate potential of the film's effect. The character's actions had the potential to move the film along in a more effective way than the dialogue. Rand's screenwriting abilities are incomparable to her talent as a novelist. 

   However, I really enjoyed the way in which the movie was filmed. There is large emphasis on shadows and angles in the film that rectify Rand's attempt at presenting humanity's power over nature and space. The idea of the "outside" is always prevalent in within the buildings due, in part, to the sweeping windows that often occupy entire walls. The shadows from the windowpanes are often seen scattered across the bare walls, looking like wallpaper made of disproportionate squares. On a symbolic level, the symmetry of the squares within square rooms represented the idea of being locked in, or ignorant of the things around you. It is also a clear representation of isolationism, and presents the idea that the physicality of our bodies make us independent objects, separate from others. I felt this justified Rand's attempt to draw parallels between the human body and architecture in the novel. 

   I was also interested in the ways that the windows were filmed in relation to characters. Roark, who's personal integrity is so great that he lives completely outside of conformity, is always filmed facing the windows, looking out over all that is conquerable. It reminded me of that feeling of awareness one experiences in being physically high up, looking out over things and feeling inspired. In contrast, Wynand, who meets his ultimate demise due to his inability to remain true to his beliefs, is always filmed not facing the window; facing the closed in space with which he is situated in; the squares within squares. It represents his fear in doing what he actually wants, and not being able to see the ways in which the world truly is conquerable. This simple notion of perspective reveals much about individual determination and emphasizes the central theme of integrity seen in the book and movie.   

   There is more symbolism seen in how the films are shot and the position of the characters. At one point, while sitting outside, a tree separates Roark and Dominique, and Wynand sits in between. There is still the emphasis of the power of nature, and the natural separation of people due to others people. 

   Overall, I think the film tries to emphasize the themes of integrity, courage, creative power, and conformity that are so prevalent in the novel. However, it is more effective in doing so due to the way in which it was filmed rather than in the dialogue. 

"Man With the Movie Camera"

Although Vertov presents various prevalent themes in his movie, "Man With the Movie Camera", I found myself constantly circulating around two recurring motifs: 

1. Movement, the inability to ever be completely still, and incessant restlessness seen through the certain motifs. 

2. The idea of blindness; the time spent with eyes closed (blinking or sleeping); the slots in between a film reel. Ultimately, the contemplation of what goes on in those fleeting moments of darkness.

After contemplating how these two things worked with and against one and other, I formed the hypothesis that, because everything in life (down the smallest particles of an atom) is constantly in motion, the only hope for stillness is in what we do not witness, or the moments we spend blinking. 

After the opening theatre scene at the beginning of the film, the viewer is provided with images of people sleeping; women, bums, homeless children, and is then followed by images of manikins and machines. There is obviously a stark juxtaposition between organic beings and inanimate objects that distinguishes the differences and similarities between man and machine. In these beginning scenes all objects are at rest, or turned off. The streets are not busy, and there is an eerie sense of peace or stillness.

At a certain point, Vertov focuses in on a woman sleeping. Images flash between her resting body and a man laying his head down on the tracks of a train that is approaching. How Vertov cuts the images implies that the woman is dreaming of this man, who is obviously putting himself into a dangerous situation. The train, which is arguably one of the most repetitive images seen throughout the film, eventually comes to symbolize the incessant movement from one place to the next. (We see trams/trolley’s cutting across city streets between hundreds of people. We see Vertov edit these images so that the trolleys end up running into one and other infinitely. Almost every time there is a shot of a busy street, a trolley is seen cutting through, transporting individuals from one place to the next.) Therefore, the dream that the woman is having of a man who lays his head down to the impending death of an approaching train can be psychoanalytically interpreted. If the train represents movement and the inability to stop moving, it may be the woman’s subconscious belief that this movement, or drive forward, is going to be her ultimate demise. Yet, she still wakes up in the morning, brushes her hair, gets dressed and ready to go out to progress and move forward.

As the film elapses, images of people working, relaxing, playing sports, ect., are provided for brief moments. He gets the point across that there is movement in leisure. These images are presented with images of wheels turning, Merry-Go-Rounds, and essentially anything that can go in never ending circles. Vertov's representation of life's constant movement ultimately leaves the viewer feeling exhausted and tormented with the idea that a single thing can never be still; things may just go round and round for no reason.  The idea of restlessness seeps out through the images. This is most prevalent in the moments where he films photographs or certain stills.  These moments emphasize the fact that the camera itself is recording, the machine is moving, in order to film still images. So, although we are looking at a still image, it is, in fact, not still.

Yet, he also places a heavy emphasis on the time spent in darkness, creating a sense of wonderment and providing a glimpse into the stillness of a void. In the moments where he films photographs, the viewer can visibly see the blank spaces in between the reel’s stills.

With that recognition, it is difficult to imagine what we are missing in those moments of blackness. We also see those images juxtaposed with the blinking of the filmmakers eye behind the lens.

This brings me back to the initial few scenes, which show people sleeping. They look peaceful and, obviously, at rest. This implies that the only time the movement of the world stops is when our eyes are closed, which, considering how many times we blink a day, is quite often. According to Vertov, the world is always moving and always stopped.  

Rose Hobart

I found that my interpretation of the Rose Hobart differed from the discussion presented in class. Rather than focusing on the idea of Cornell's obsession for Rose Hobart and this being a "fan" film, I took the film to be an exploration of the female unconsciousness, and focused on a psychoanalytical reaction of the images provided.

The film opens with the image of Rose Hobart sleeping alone behind white sheets. According to Freud, it is through dreaming that we discover subconscious emotions and attitudes; therefore, as the camera slowly moves forward into the room, the viewer is invited into her dream world, or subconscious mind. The setting in which she sleeps is also very comfortable, far away, relaxed, and presents an atmosphere that resembles a fantasy. Additionally, Cornell omits the dialogue, uses a blue tint for effect, and inserts a fun and explorative melody. As a result, the film immediately sets up a fantasy world focused on the female. As suspected, the images  presented thereafter center around power, sexuality, and independence. 
The very next image presented is a burning flame, possibly representing the main character's vitality, soul, inner torment, or sin. The flame seems to draw us further into the darkness of this woman. We witness a few images of Rose before she leans over a balcony and discovers a ball dropping into water. The incredible sexual imagery presented here is obvious. The texture of the water (as viewed through the blue tint) and the action being performed seem symbolic of female sexuality. Additionally, the concentric circles that disperse out resemble an explosion of some sort, adding on to the idea of desire.
After these introspective scenes, the scenes move outward, focusing on Rose's physical appearance. She is often seen standing alone, constantly looking at someone. As viewers, we rarely see the person she is staring at. Either the person is simply not there, or he is unattainable. Either way, it enhances the feeling that she is alone; she is watching but not being a part of something. She seems distanced. But her facial features reveal a fierce and independent quality, conniving, innocent, and at the same time unsure of herself. The emotions evoked toward her are heightened when she hides a gun in her purse, appearing sexy, dangerous, and willing to defend herself. At this point, the viewer senses a sort of anxiety or danger. It seems natural that directly after this we are finally introduced to some of the male characters and discover that she is living in a jungle. 
Various other symbolic images appear before us: an erupting volcano, a person intruding in her bedroom, the solar eclipse, ect. At one point, another female enters the picture and can be seen randomly throughout. As a viewer, it is difficult to tell whether or not the other female is a threat, a companion, or perhaps another love interest? 
What is interesting about the film is that the last few scenes focus on the solar eclipse and the ball dropping into the water. Nothing ever becomes of the gun, and there doesn't seem to be a resolution. The viewer is left with a feeling that Rose has not come to a conclusion, that her sexuality is still rooted deep within her unconscious. Yet she is still invariably a woman, and we are ultimately left feeling as if we have entered into her unconscious and discovered something there.