robert bresson on truth and feeling

 ON TRUE AND FALSE

The mixture of true and false yields falsity (photographed theater or CINEMA). The false when it is homogeneous can yield truth (theater).

In a mixture of true and false, the true brings out the false, the false hinders belief in the true. An actor simulating fear of shipwreck on the deck of a real ship battered by a real storm – we believe neither in the actor, nor in the ship nor in the storm. (p 10)

Let it be the feelings that bring about the events. Not the other way.

Cinematography: new way of writing, therefore of feeling. (p 15)

YOUR MODELS MUST NOT FEEL THEY ARE DRAMATIC. (p 44)

When the public is ready to feel before understanding, what a number of films reveal and explain everything to it! (p 59)

It is as if there are two TRUTHS: one that is dull, flat, boring, at least in the eyes of those who daub it with falsity; the other …

For want of truth, the public gets hooked on the false. Falconetti’s way of casting her eyes to heaven, in Dreyer’s film, used to draw tears. (p 65)

—from Robert Bresson’s Notes on Cinematography (New York, Urizen Books)

sontag on the state of cinema, circa 2001

[petra+von+kant.jpg]
Fassbinder’s The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant: You would drink too if you had to look at Poussin’s Midas and Bacchus every minute of your life.


The cinema as he [Jean-Luc Godard] knew it is over. That’s for sure—for a number of reasons, including the breakdown of the distribution system. I had to wait eight years to see Alan Resnais’ Smoking/No Smoking, which I just saw at the Lincoln Center. Resnais made those films in the early ’90s, but then none of his films were distributed here in the past 10 years. We’re getting a much smaller selection here in New York, which is supposed to be a good place to see films. On the other hand, if you can tolerate the small formats—I happen to have a problem with miniaturized images—you can get the whole history of cinema and watch it over and over again. You don’t have to be dependent on the distribution system. The problems with cinema seem to me, more than anything, a cultural failure. Tastes have been corrupted, and it’s so rare to see filmmakers who have the aspiration to take on profound thoughts and feelings. There is a reason that more and more films that I like are coming from the less prosperous parts of the world, where commercial value has not completely taken over. For example, I think people have reacted so positively to Kiarostami is that he shows people who are quite innocent and not cynical, in this increasingly cynical world. In that sense, I don’t think cinema is over yet.


. . . Movies have been the love of my life. There have been many periods of my life when I’ve gone to movies every day, and sometimes I see two films a day. Bresson and Godard, and Syberberg, and more recently Sokurov, have been extremely important to me. I love Chantal Ackerman’s Jeanne Diehlmann, Bela Tarr’s Satantango, Fassbinder’s In a Year of Thirteen Moons, The American Soldier, The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, and Berlin Alexanderplatz; Angelopoulos’s Traveling Players, Alan Renais’s Melo, Hou Hsiao-hsien’s Goodbye South, Goodbye, Claire Denis’s Beau Travail…. I’ve learned so much from these films. And no, I haven’t said goodbye to filmmaking. I’m not interested in adapting my own books, but in something else. Yes, I want to make more films.


—from “
Against Postmodernism, etcetera: A Conversation with Susan Sontag,” Postmodern Culture, Volume 12, Number 1, September 2001

happiness studies: françois truffaut

 

I am the happiest man in the world and here’s why: I walk down a street and I see a woman, not tall but well-proportioned, very dark-haired, very neat in her dress, wearing a dark skirt with deep pleats that swing with the rhythm of her rather quick steps; her stockings, of dark color, are carefully, impeccably smooth; her face is not smiling, this woman walks down the street without trying to please, as if she were unconscious of what she represented: a good carnal image of woman, a physical image, more than a sexy image, a sexual image.

 —François Truffaut, “Is Truffaut the Happiest Man on Earth? Yes,” Esquire, August 1970

1970_8

 

 

 

 

 

 

robbe-grillet on film: “reality… is problematic. we run up against it as against a wall of fog”

 


The history of cinema is still rather short, yet it is already characterized by discontinuities and reversals. The majority of contemporary films that now pass for masterpieces would have been rejected by Eisenstein and rightly so as altogether worthless, as the very negation of all art.

 

We should reread today the famous manifesto Eisenstein and Pudovkin wrote in the 1920s on the sound film. At a time when, in Moscow, a brand new American invention was being announced that would permit the actors on the screen to speak, this prophetic text warned vigorously and with extraordinary clarity of vision against the fatal abyss into which cinema was in danger of sliding: Since the illusion of realism would be considerably strengthened by giving the characters a voice, cinema could let itself be led down the cowardly path of glib superficiality (a temptation that never stops menacing us) and from then on, the better to please the multitudes, could remain content with an allegedly faithful reproduction of reality. It would thus surrender all claims to the creation of genuine artworks works in which that reality would be challenged by the very structures of the cinematic narrative.

 

Now, what Eisenstein demanded, with his customary vehemence, was that sound be used to create, on the contrary, new shocks: To the shocks between sequences created by montage (which links, according to relations of harmonic resonance or of opposition, the sequences to one another) should be added the shocks between the various elements of the sound track and still others between sounds and simultaneously projected images. As one may have expected, good Marxist-Leninist that he was, he called upon the sacrosanct "dialectic" in order to support this thesis.

 

But Communist ideology alas! could not save the Soviet cinema (which today is one of the worst in the world) from falling into the snares of glibness. In fact, good old "bourgeois realism" triumphed everywhere in the West as well as the East, where they simply rebaptized it "socialist." Eisenstein and his friends were rapidly subjected to the new universal norm: The montage of the visual sequences of their films (¡Que viva México! for example) was redone by the right-thinking bureaucracy, and all the sounds were made to follow obediently the recorded images.

 

Even in France, it was a theoretician of the extreme Left, André Bazin, who, merrily letting the dialectic go by the board, became the spokesman of illusionist realism, going so far as to write that the ideal film would entail no montage whatsoever, "since in the natural reality of the world there is no montage"! Thus, the numerous and fascinating forms of expression created in Russia and elsewhere during the silent era were summarily repudiated as if they were nothing but childish stammerings born of a merely rudimentary technique. Sound, wide screens, deep focus, color, long-duration reels all of these have allowed us to transform cinema today into a simple reproduction of the world, which, in the final analysis, is tantamount to forcing cinema as an art to disappear.

 

If today we want to restore its life, its former power, and its ability to give us veritable artworks, worthy of vying with fiction or painting of the modern era, then we must bring back to film work the ambitiousness and prominence that characterized it in the days of silent film. And so, as Eisenstein urges, we need to take advantage of every new technical invention, not in order to subject ourselves even further to the ideology of realism but, quite the opposite, to increase the possibilities of dialectical confrontation within film, thereby intensifying the "release of energy" that is just what such internal shocks and tensions allow for.

 

From this point of view, the alleged realism of contemporary commercial films, whether they be signed by Truffaut or by Altman, appears as a flawless totalitarian system, founded on hackneyed, stereotyped redundancy. The least detail in every shot, the connections between sequences, all the elements of the sound track, everything, absolutely everything must concur with the same sense and meaning, with a single sense and meaning, and with good old common sense. The immense potential richness that is concealed in this stuff of dreams these discontinuous, sonorous images must be utterly reduced, subjected to the laws of normative consciousness, to the status quo, so that, at any cost, meaning may be prevented from deviating, swarming, bifurcating, going off in several directions at once, or else getting completely lost. The technicians on the set or in the various recording studios are there precisely to see to it that no imperfections and divergences ever occur.

 

But what is the significance of this will-to-reduction? What it all means, in the final analysis, is that reality and a living reality at that is reduced to a reassuring, homogeneous, unilinear story line, a reconciled and compromised, entirely rational story line from which any disturbing roughness has been purged. Plainly put, realism is by no means the expression of the real, of what is real. But rather, the opposite. Reality is always ambiguous, uncertain, moving, enigmatic, and endlessly intersected by contradictory currents and ruptures. In a word, it is ”incomprehensible." Without a doubt, it is also unacceptable whereas the first and foremost function of realism is to make us accept reality. Realism, therefore, has a pressing obligation not only to make sense but to make one and only one sense, always the same, which it must buttress tirelessly with all the technical means, all the artifices and conventions, that can possibly serve its ends.

 

Thus, for example, prevailing film criticism may blame a certain detective film for lack of realism, ostensibly because the murderer’s motives are not clear enough, or because there are contradictions in the scenario, or because there remain lacunae in the causal chain of events. And yet, what do we actually know about nonfictional attempts to solve real crimes? Precisely that uncertainties at times essential ones always persist until the end, as do unsettling absences, "mistakes" in the protagonist’s behavior, useless and supernumerary characters, diverging proofs, a piece or two too many in the puzzle that the preliminary investigation in vain tries to complete.

 

Reality, then, is problematic. We run up against it as against a wall of fog. Meanwhile, our relation to the world becomes still more complicated because, at every moment, the world of realism presents itself to us as if it were familiar. We become so used to it that we hardly see it: It is our habitat, our cocoon. Yet, actually, we stumble against what’s real with a violence we never get used to a violence that no amount of previous experience can ever assuage so that reality remains for us irremediably foreign and strange. The German words heimlich and unheimlich, which both Freud and Heidegger have used, though in different but here overlapping contexts, give indeed an idea of this lived opposition fundamental because it is inescapable between the strange and the familiar. Both the psychoanalyst and the philosopher insist that the familiarity we think we have with the world is misleading (i.e., ideological, socialized). To acknowledge and explore (even to the point of anguish) the world’s strangeness constitutes the necessary starting point for creating a consciousness that is free. And one of the essential functions of art is precisely that it assumes this role of revealing the world to us. This explains why art does not attempt to make the world more bearable (which undoubtedly is what realism does), but less so: because its ultimate ambition is not to make us accept reality but to change it.

 

the iconic imagery of Last Year at Marienbad

read more…

french girls are dirty! french intellectuals more so!

“rape creates the best hookers… once opened by force, they sometimes retain a sort of skin-level burnished quality that men like”

 

 

A new movement of hardcore feminism has gripped French culture, uniting writers and filmmakers in a bid to subvert culture’s age-old treatment of women. Is this liberation, or just porn in another guise?

Elizabeth Day

The Observer, Sunday 18 January 2009

Most people expect Virginie Despentes to be angry. Perhaps they have seen the film she directed nine years ago, Baise-moi, a highly explicit rampage of sex and violence where a man gets beaten to death by two women simply for wanting to wear a condom.

Perhaps they have read the 1994 novel it was based on, also called Baise-moi, in which the two rage-fuelled anti-heroines shoot dead a three-year-old child in a sweet shop. Perhaps they know from interviews that Despentes was raped at 17 and that, for a brief time afterwards, she earned her living as a prostitute. “Rape creates the best hookers,” she writes in her new book, King Kong Theory. “Once opened by force, they sometimes retain a sort of skin-level burnished quality that men like.”

Whatever the reason, people expect the 39-year-old Despentes to be wild-eyed and furious. But the woman who buzzes me into her flat on the outskirts of Barcelona speaks in hesitations and half-smiles. She seems nervous, almost girlish, twirling strands of her shoulder-length dirty blond hair as she talks. She smokes a constant stream of Chesterfields, but not before asking if I mind. An excitable pitbull terrier called Pepa skitters around the parquet floor. I thought you were going to be terrifying, I say. “I know,” she replies. “I get that a lot. But I can be conflicted. Most of the time, I am quite calm and shy.” Is she less angry than she used to be? “No,” she says, with a short, dry chuckle. “Anger must be my essential component.”

Baise-moi (translation: Fuck Me) lit the touchpaper for a new movement of French extremism in cinema and literature. The movie, which starred two former porn actresses, proved so shocking that it became the first film in France to be banned for 28 years and was only released after an outcry from anti-censorship campaigners.

With its depictions of graphic sex and nihilistic violence, the film has become the visual mascot of a new wave of hardcore feminism in France that seeks to subvert traditionally male boundaries with a savage and frequently uncomfortable honesty. Just as French women have begun to emerge in the political arena – Ségolène Royal was the first female presidential candidate in 2007; almost half the members of Sarkozy’s cabinet are women – so they have also started to demolish cultural stereotypes.

In her 2002 memoir, The Sexual Life of Catherine M, the author Catherine Millet details with unflinching precision her childhood experiences of masturbation and her adult predilection for group sex. Her new book, Jealousy: The Other Life of Catherine M, examines the debilitating nature of her own envy when she discovered her husband was also having affairs. It, too, describes her masturbation fantasies, but neither work was written to titillate amale audience. “For me, a pornographic book is functional, written to help you to get excited,” she explains. “If you want to speak about sex in a novel or any ‘ambitious’ writing, today, in the 21st century, you must be explicit. You cannot be metaphorical any longer.”

Similarly, Catherine Breillat’s 1999 film Romance blurs the line between porn and erotic provocation, taking sexual images out of their usual context and making them deliberately unappealing – a woman’s genitalia, for instance, is filmed as she gives birth. “People asked why I filmed the birth face-on,” said Breillat. “I say: ‘Because you’re asking me that question.'” Despentes puts it another way: “The point is not to be shocking but to change the shape of things.”

France has a long tradition of writers and artists who have propagated their own challenging visions of sexuality – from the Marquis de Sade’s sadomasochistic reveries to Georges Bataille’s explorations of the ambiguity of sex as a subversive force in Blue of Noon. More recently, Michel Houellebecq’s work has included unsparing descriptions of sexual conquest.

But it is only relatively recently that women have felt able to tackle these same themes in public. As late as 1954, Story of O, an erotic novel of dominance and submission written by Anne Desclos, was published under a pseudonym. In 1968, while students were shouting Marxist slogans from the barricades, French women were still not allowed to wear trousers to work, and wives required their husband’s permission to open a bank account.

The paradoxical relationship between misogyny and liberality in France meant that when Despentes broke through the gender divide, she did so in spectacular style. Baise-moi blazed the trail for other female artists who sought to shatter cultural and sexual taboos, including the director Claire Denis, whose 2001 film Trouble Every Day depicts a female cannibal sated only when she consumes the bodies of her ill-fated lovers. Less brutal, and yet equally revealing in its own muted fashion, Christine Jordis’s 2005 novel Rapture was a candid account of erotic love and sexual abandon. The intention of these women, it seems, is to reappropriate the traditionally male preserves of sex, pornography and aggression by bringing them firmly into the female sphere.

Despentes’s new book, King Kong Theory, gives them a manifesto. Part memoir, part political pamphlet, it is a furious condemnation of the “servility” of enforced femininity and was a bestseller in France – the title refers to her contention that she is “more King Kong than Kate Moss”. Superficial femininity, she argues, must be challenged so that women become free to act as they really are, rather than how their menfolk most want them to appear. It also deals with Despentes’s experience of rape. In 1986, when she and a female friend were hitch-hiking back from Paris to their home town of Nancy, the two girls were picked up by three men who attacked them. Despentes explains that while many rape victims respond by feeling misplaced guilt – as though they brought the attack on themselves by being too conspicuously female; as though their mere survival indicated they somehow “wanted it” – her conscious response was anger. She chose fury. That was how she coped.

It is no coincidence that Manu, one of the two female protagonists in Baise-moi, is brutally raped by three men before embarking on her indiscriminate killing spree. Her reaction is the traditionally male response of undiluted aggression. “Girls are never, never taught to be violent,” says Despentes. “We are accustomed to seeing women being killed [in films], being really afraid, covered in blood. I think it’s good to see the counterpoint.”

Femininity, she says, has had to become harmless in order to reassure a 21st-century masculinity that finds itself in crisis. So that “ugly women” or threatening women, women who are too aggressive or ambitious, violent women who kill on a whim, women who choose to sell sex for a living, are deliberately sidelined and ignored. According to Despentes, they are not part of the socially acceptable face of femaleness. “There should be dozens of movies showing lots of violent, angry, sexually active women getting really wild,” she says, taking a languid drag on her cigarette.

Not everyone agrees. When the film of Baise-moi was released, it was almost universally denounced as crude, profane and “tediously bleak”. One reviewer described it as “Thelma & Louise as scripted by Lorena Bobbitt”. In 2005 the critic James Quandt wrote an influential article for Artforum in which he coined the term “New French Extremity” and described the current vogue for French hardcore cinema as a determination “to wade in rivers of viscera and spumes of sperm, to fill each frame with flesh, nubile or gnarled, and subject it to all manner of penetration, mutilation and defilement”.

Although Breillat, Despentes, Denis, Millet and their peers might claim their work has a philosophical or artistic rationale, how far can one intellectualise exploitation? Is pornographic content any more acceptable for being played out in the guise of the political? Is indiscriminate violence on film or in books any more justified for supposedly being a comment on female empowerment? “These women are operating in a traditionally male milieu,” says Ginette Vincendeau, a professor of film studies at King’s College, London, “and the price they have to pay is to tone their feminism down, so they make films that explore sexuality and sexual difference but are not threatening to the male establishment. There is something in there for the men to enjoy too, if you like.”

The killing in Baise-moi is depicted as a cartoonish, randomised cruelty that makes minimal narrative sense. The sex scenes, too, often seem to sail rather too close to the pornographic objectification they are meant to be challenging. “The comparison is surprising to me,” says Despentes when I put this to her. “I didn’t meet many men who told me how excited they were by Baise-moi. Excitement is not the point of it.”

And yet, in King Kong Theory, she derides the trend for “hooker chic” – for adolescents to dress in provocatively adult clothes. Does she acknowledge that her own work, with its gun-toting females in G-strings and leopard print, has its part to play in glamorising precisely this sort of teenage behaviour? Her reply is unequivocal. “If young people were really influenced by movies, we would be in real trouble. You don’t go out of a movie and do what you’ve just seen.”

Despentes insists her work is a challenge to the unquestioned supremacy of the male viewpoint in both film and literature. As opposed to using female porn stars as wordless vehicles of male lust – their faces out of shot, their dialogue restricted to orgasmic grunts – both Despentes and Breillat deliberately put them at the centre of their work. They become active participants: in charge of the action, rather than subjected to it. In the literary sphere, Millet and Jordis choose to explore the female sexual experience rather than the male – inpart, their work is shocking because we are so unused to hearing a woman speak about sex like a man.

In this respect, the new French feminists have been influenced by the existentialist philosophies of Simone de Beauvoir. “Man today represents the positive and the neutral,” de Beauvoir writes in The Second Sex, “whereas woman is only the negative, the female.” The Belgian-born philosopher Luce Irigaray carries this one step further: “One must assume the feminine role deliberately, which means already to convert a form of subordination into an affirmation, and thus to thwart it.”

Beyond the theorising, however, there lies the simpler goal of showing things as they really are. After centuries of concealment within the dark folds of patriarchy, these women seek to reclaim their space and illuminate their experience. Just as Despentes decries the social pressure for “ugly women” to prettify themselves in King Kong Theory, so Baise-moi deliberately set out to depict the sexual act in its myriad forms. It might disturb rather than arouse, and it might challenge rather than comfort, but at least it does not patronise us with the soft-focus romantic myth peddled by the mainstream. In Intimacy, the 2001 movie adaptation of Hanif Kureishi’s novel, the French director Patrice Chéreau filmed several explicit sex scenes, including one that depicts the heroine, Claire, fellating her lover. Kerry Fox, the actress who played Claire, said she was drawn to the part precisely because “I felt the way that sex was represented [in traditional cinema] was very false. It is not an artist’s duty to shock. Shock might be a by-product but it is an artist’s duty to portray reality. It’s about encouraging people to understand others in a way they haven’t before.”

Back in Barcelona, the ashtray on Virginie Despentes’s living room table is half full of crumpled cigarette butts. As I leave, she is powdering her face with a small mirrored compact in preparation for the photograph. Despentes is, as she admits, a contradictory mass of different characteristics. She can be angry and yet she can be sweet; tough yet fragile; she can decry enforced femininity and yet she can care enough to put on make-up for a photograph. She is, like her characters, a woman of multiple facets. For all the controversy generated by the new wave of French feminism, maybe this is what lies at its heart: the permission for women to be themselves, however conflicted they might be and however uneasily it sits with conventional notions of what it is to be female. It is the permission, perhaps, for a woman to be more King Kong than Kate Moss.

King Kong Theory is published by Serpent’s Tail

–from http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/jan/18/french-feminism-despentes-catherine-millet
 

Paris intellectuals make case for porn

Film festival’s X-rated action is ‘by and for women’

Lizzy Davies in Paris

The Observer, Sunday 12 October 2008

It could only happen in the country that gave us Emmanuelle, Monica Bellucci in an anal rape scene and twoyoung actresses romping through a hyper-violent bad-girl road movie with real-life sex and a title so rude it could not be advertised on buses.

A group of French intellectuals has now gone one step further in the quest to integrate hardcore erotica into mainstream cinema by holding Paris’s first alternative pornographic film festival: a no-holds-barred celebration of X-rated action that organisers say showcases a new wave of progressive porn that not only titillates but empowers.

Gone, for the most part, are mechanical character portrayals and cringe-worthy storylines; gone, too, are films made by – and solely for – men. On show at the Brady cinema for the past three days have been dozens of productions catering to both genders and every sexual preference. With names such as Deep, Strap-on Motel and Post-Apocalyptic Cowgirls they may sound like the same old material, but those in the know claim they are revolutionary.

‘There’s a new culture of pornography emerging,’ said Maxime Cervulle, the academic who is co-organising the festival in between lecturing at the University of Paris. ‘It’s not only about breaking away from the clichés of porn – of macho sexuality, bad plots and zero aesthetic appeal – but also changing the way people are portrayed in pornography: straight women, black women, lesbians, transsexuals and gay men.’

The most striking change ushered in by the new movement is its feminisation – almost half the films on show in Paris were made by and for women. Directors such as Catherine Corringer and Maria Beatty say they are responding to a rising interest among female audiences who are growing more aware of their own sexuality but are frustrated by the patriarchal world of erotica.

Marie-Hélène Bourcier, the other organiser of the festival, who is also a university lecturer, sees the festival as an important moment in the redressing of that gender imbalance. ‘I consider myself to be a feminist, but a pro-sex feminist,’ she said. ‘I don’t see any contradiction between certain kinds of pornography and feminism. For women it can be a sort of empowerment.’

With films such as Catherine Breillat’s Romance, an explicit study of female desire, Virginie Despentes’s notorious Baise-moi and Gaspar Noé’s disturbing Irréversible, critics claim mainstream French directors have been instrumental in pornography’s evolution, for better or worse.

The movies produced howls of outrage from many observers, both on account of their graphic content and questionable cinematic merit, but their influence has been undeniable. Even the more orthodox bastion of the small screen is getting in on the act, with television channel Canal+ teaming up with several French women actors and directors for a night of raunchy courts métrages later this month. It is all part of a desire, say the festival’s supporters, to nurture a pornography that reflects contemporary society more accurately.

‘I wanted to make films that would let women see themselves as they are,’ said Sophie Bramly, founder of website SecondSexe.com, which is co-ordinating the night. ‘Most women don’t recognise themselves in porn films – they’re too vulgar. And real feminine sexual pleasure is usually totally absent.’ While acknowledging the X-rated nature of the work, she refuses to describe them as ‘pornographic’. ‘These films are explicit. I don’t call them pornographic because pornography belongs to men,’ she said.

Bourcier, buoyant from the success of the festival, has no such linguistic qualms. For her the words do not matter as much as their socio-political purpose – to ‘reaffirm the populist character’ of the genre and to make it something people can identify with.

‘Pornography is a marginalised but populist genre and in this sense it is a reflection of social tensions,’ said Cervulle. ‘When minorities take part in this socially popular form of expression, they have the chance to break free of the dominant cultural force.’

–from http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/oct/12/france-festivals