Thursday 28 November 2013

Gravity, The Earth Child, and Exhausting the Planet

Gravity (2013) was recently released to outstanding reviews after its premier at the Venice Film Festival. Directed by Alfonso Cuaron, the film tells the story of survival during a catastrophic disaster in space, however themes of rebirth are also explicitly clear. Gravity however, is also a warning of the excessive use and destruction of materials on planet Earth. By relocating into space, Cuaron has developed a story that perfectly demonstrates the seemingly inevitable self-destruction of mankind through use of vital fossil fuels and a lack of care of Earth.

Very early into our introduction to the character of Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), we are shown her devotion to her work. She seems unimpressed by the views of Earth, despite Matthew Kowalski (George Clooney) encouraging her to relax and enjoy them. Things quickly change however, as new filters through of the domino effect from the self-destruction of a Russian satellite that has gone terribly wrong. Stone finds her life in threat due to a lack of consideration for the outcomes of a seemingly meaningless piece of destruction. Ryan Stone can be seen as a twin representation, one of Mankind, and the other of Nature. Within Stone, these things should be intertwined rather than conflicting ideologies, however she has slowly moved away from these ideas due to her loss of focus on the beauty of nature. However the fact remains that they are still inside her, the decision to name her Stone is a simple tool to signify her link with Earth, naming her after a core material to Earth. What the self-destruction of the satellite does to Stone, is place her in immediate danger and starts the process of her re-evaluating what’s important. She is suddenly sent spinning out into space, and on the verge of death, or, the threat of extinction, due to the space junk (an analogy to waste and rubbish on Earth and its danger to nature). This act of self-destruction, committed by humans, changes Stone and begins a re-birthing process that makes her question the very nature of her life, and therefore, of mankind.

The most explicit sign of the start of re-birthing is shown when Stone curls up into a foetal position within the Space Station, slowly floating as the scale of everything starts to dawn on her. These capsules and space stations throughout Gravity become to signify the only place where we can exist outside of Earth. They become wombs for Stone, where there is a constant source of oxygen to breath. If we take Stone to be representative of mankind, we can see parallels to that of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1969), in a similar way that the Star Child represents the next state of human evolution and a higher understanding of its surroundings. However instead of expanding our horizons, Cuaron has mankind returning to Earth and becoming closer to nature. Stone struggles to come to terms with this during her re-birthing process, especially in relation to the hollow death of her young child. She has seen the violence of nature, and the randomness of its violence, so how can she become part of nature again? This random violence and destruction however is compared to the same violence that mankind inflicts upon itself, that nearly killed Stone as well. Stone begins the process of understanding that by living with nature, rather than against it, there is hope.

Stone eventually finds her way onto the Soyuz. She however soon discovers that there is no fuel left to power it. Stone has literally run out of fuel to power her home, or if we return to the Mankind analogy, we have run out of fossil fuels. The excessive use and exploitation of Earth has taken Stone to the point where there is seemingly no return, and again Stone is able to see how Mankind has been more than happy to exploit Earth for its own needs. She is left, stuck, floating in Space with little hope for survival. Just as her Oxygen, the most vital resource of all, is about to run out, Stone has a vision of a returning Kowalski who refocuses her. This can be viewed as a vision from a higher being, a message to give Stone hope. Kowalski is able to guide her to safety, just like many visions have guided people in the stories of the Bible. With this new determination, and the vision of Kowalski, Stone is able to crash land her pod into a small lake on Earth.


Stone is in the final process of her rebirth, her capsule crashing into a small lake. As she leaves the safety of the vessel, or the womb, she has to crawl out of the water just like the very first creatures to leave the water for land millions of years ago. As she feels the muddy Earth in her hands for the first time in what seems forever, she is able to fully appreciate all of the beauty of Earth, and its importance to human survival. Stone, or Mankind, is finally intertwined again with nature. The re-birthing process has been completed. Stone has seen the dangers of waste, the violent nature of mankind that threatens each other, the inevitable problems of exhausting fossil fuels. She has returned metaphorical to the womb in order to survive and relearn what it means to be human. She has evolved, not as the Star Child, but as the Earth Child.

DANNY MOLTRASI

Monday 18 November 2013

New British Cinema - Post 2000 Cinema in Great Britain

‘British’ and ‘Cinema’ are incompatible – Truffaut

Great British cinema has endured a rather up and down history. Although seen as light-weight and predictable in themes (social-realism after social-realism), it has produced some of the most respected directors in cinema history, stretching throughout the cinematic story. Chaplin, Hitchcock, Loach, Leigh, Roeg, Scott, are just a few of that have stood-out for various reasons, and often their shadows have loomed large over British cinema, making others unable to escape their work. These names, however, are normally the exception to the rule. British cinema has historically not been considered on a par with others on a global scale. Often the poor-relation in European cinema, it has looked westwards towards Hollywood, rather than eastwards towards mainland Europe. This influence is understandable, a shared language and similar culture has meant it is a far more accessible form of cinema to understand to the average cinema-goer. It would be easier to watch the latest American film, than the newest Italian one. This has been exacerbated by a fear of mainland Europe from Britain, which can be tracked through historical wars for hundreds of years. This unavoidable influence can be seen in the shocking statistic that only 7 European countries (which includes the likes of Monaco and the Vatican) have escaped attack from Britain[1]. Distrust of the European is an inbuilt fear within British culture that however has been slowly eroded in the post-WW2 era. This has perhaps culminated with the joining of the E.U in 1973 (although it has frequently faced opposition, including a proposed referendum on the matter in the near future), which has led to the opening of boarders within the E.U, and the growth of globalisation. Naturally, closer neighbours such as France and Spain are bound to influence from Western Europe where the ease of travel and tourism has meant many British citizens have frequently visited. The playful and challenging natures of their national cinemas have gradually left its footprints on British cinema. Just like this influence from the West, rise of immigration from Eastern Europe, increasingly that of Poland and Romania, has been also taken on the slower-paced nature of Eastern Europe. The influences of directors such as Puiu or Mungiu are clear to see in the works of Andrea Arnold, for example. This slow shift towards Europe, and away from isolation (and America) has had a slow knock-on effect on British cinema as well. While this by no means is saying that Hollywood is irrelevant to British cinema (far from it), we are now looking at change of view, from where before the British watched Europe through mistrust, it is now watched for direction.



The 2000s in Great Britain represented a great shift in view, specifically towards that of America. Post-9/11 and the outcome (or lack of) of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq focused a lot of animosity to America. Statistics such as 41% of the British population saying they ‘mistrusted’ America, or 40% using ‘bully’ to describe the country[2], are regularly pumped out by the media. This ‘mistrust’ inevitably spreads into forms of media and art, and an irrational avoiding of works that have come before from America. This, alongside the growth of accessibility of more obscure European (as well as other) cinema, leads to an expected influence upon the film-makers that have developed their works during post-2000s. The ease of which people are able to find foreign films through DVDs, both released within Britain, as well as those imported, have meant that it is just as easy to watch a film by Tarkovsky, as it is to watch a film by Coppola.

Finally, the failure of New Labour, and the arts cuts that followed during the recessions, has forced filmmakers to become more creative with their works. With supporting money becoming harder to obtain, films are forced to stand-out from the crowd, and thus forced to challenge expectations. British cinema has found itself at its most creative, just like many national cinemas, when it has faced some of its hardest times to gain support.
These combining factors have created a melting pot for Britain to create some of its most interesting and challenging films, as well as most interesting filmmakers, in its history. Since the end of the 2000s, British cinema has entered into a golden era that has encompassed many different types of film, ones that have reached across to America, but also towards Europe. What separates these filmmakers is not only the fact they are far more European than those of the past, but also the sheer numbers of filmmakers who are now creating pieces that are respected by their peers. Whereas in the past, a few may make it, now a whole host are continuing to break through year on year. Each director that is to be mentioned in this piece is only touched upon within the respect of what is their most important work within this wave, however each director has a deep and interesting catalogue of films that can almost equally be considered. Many directors that are extremely important figures as well have not been mentioned, but their films will be noted additionally to this piece with an accompanying list of films[3].

The First Seeds
Although extremely early in the growth of New British Cinema, 2000 saw two key films appear, key for conflicting reasons. Memento (2000) by Christopher Nolan, a joint citizen of the United States and Great Britain, received acclaim at its premier at the Venice Film Festival. It became a film that managed to jump the independent boundary in America, and become a part of American culture of the 2000s. The story-telling method used by Nolan, one that is far removed from that of traditional Hollywood mainstream, seems far more European than most American independent hits. With the success of Memento, Nolan was given the chance to delve deeper into American cinema, while being able to maintain a form of distance from it due to his close affiliation with Great Britain. What Memento showed, as well as the subsequent success of the Batman films, is the ability to move into the Hollywood mainstream, while maintaining a strong voice. Nolan, more than anyone in recent years, has managed to harness his position in Hollywood to use their power and money to demonstrate that audiences can handle new and changeling ideas. This leap from independent filmmaker to Hollywood director, although peaking in the 90s American cinema, was arguably taken to a new level by Nolan, as would later be seen with Inception (2010), a form of companion piece to Memento.

Just over a week afterwards the other key British film of 2000 was released, Sexy Beast (2000). The debut feature by Jonathan Glazer, takes a tired British format, the London gangster flick, takes a regular gangster actor, Ray Winstone, and relocates it to Spain. What grows from this is a stylish picture that stands out from the traditional dark and grungy gangster film that became the calling-card for many British film makers. Glazer plays with genre expectations, not through subverting, but through embracing and using them in fresh and creative ways. The sunburnt skin of Winstone is something that is not uncommonly seen on the beaches in Spain, as tourist from Britain regularly flock to the Spanish coasts during the summer. Sexy Beast is one of the first to replicate this common holiday image. British cinema had become far too comfortable churning similar types of films that it had become associated with. The cheeky-chappy East End gangster guy, or the social-realism cinema of Ken Loach. These comfortable expectations became limiting to filmmakers who felt this type of film was to be aspired to, rather than to challenge. Sexy Beast uses the expectations of the gangster film, and gives them a new lease of life. Playing with genre without mocking has become a regular theme in New British Cinema, fully embraced by one of the best directors to come out of Great Britain, Edgar Wright.


Shaun of the Dead (2004) was the first feature by Wright, and the first of his ‘Cornetto trilogy’, followed by Hot Fuzz (2007) and The Worlds End (2013), all of which were met with critical acclaim. Wright’s visual playfulness which is supported by regular cast members, engages and plays with genre. Wright is self-schooled with American genre films, but relocates them to Great Britain for comical effect. Shaun of the Dead takes the zombie film, and relocates it to the Winchester Pub, where survivors fight off zombies with cricket bats while dancing to Queen. Hot Fuzz takes the action flick to rural Gloucestershire, where Hollywood obsessed cops fight the mundane, and finally The Worlds End taking on the alien invasion, alongside the commercialisation of British culture and it being water downed by American. Wright though, is also clearly educated in European cinema, regular mixing it with the more obvious American influence. The ‘Cornetto’ idea itself is a play on the ‘Three Colours’ trilogy of Kieslowski, which helps connects the three films. He is just as happy to play on this influence, as he is to play with the likes of Evil Dead II (1987). Wright is perhaps the most visually distinctive filmmaker working in Britain today, and his wide film knowledge that pulls references from America and Europe, while using Great Britain as the mixing pot, gives his work a unique style.

These three films show the seeds in which British cinema started to expand, by influencing Hollywood, by reaching towards Europe, as well as the merger of the two. Each film represents the start of these three strands, which started to fully blossom towards the end of the 2000s.

Festival Recognition
2008 saw a shift in tone in British cinema with, Hunger (2008), by Steve McQueen. A former artist, who had experimented with short films, Hunger was shown at the 2008 Cannes Film Festival in the Un Certain Regard section, where McQueen won the Camera D’or for best debut feature by a director. Hunger pushed away traditional narrative and instead focused on the hunger strike mainly through the use of visuals. This shunning, and its end result is undeniable European in style, and undeniable successful in doing so. McQueen has said that he “could never make American movies”[4], and his free-wheeling style of narrative and technique supports this statement. Leaving film school in America, because “they wouldn’t let you throw the camera up in the air”[5] is a strong shift away from the tradition look of British cinema, which while often willing to follow characters around dirty streets, has been scared to push and experiment with limitations. His comfort in showing the human body in all of its beauty and ugliness, something which can be seen as well in the follow up, Shame (2011), is none too dissimilar to much the French New Wave, where the body has never been a taboo. This has traditionally been the case in Great Britain, where modesty must be kept at all times. McQueen has become, alongside Wright, the outstanding figure in modern British cinema, remaining uniquely British, embracing European style, while projecting onto America. Recognition for a new British director had been extremely rare on the European mainland, and to receive it at the most prestigious of festivals kicked off a stream of British films that were picked up at festivals.
Fish Tank (2009), the second feature film of Andrea Arnold, followed a similar path of McQueen. Showing at Cannes, and winning the Prix du Jury prize (a prize she also won for debut feature, Red Road (2006)), Fish Tank takes the average social realism film, and adds the wondering camera and looseness of European cinema into the council estates of Britain. Similar to Sexy Beast, Fish Tank takes a tired staple of British cinema and adds a refreshing feel to it. Symbolism is embraced, rather than grimy back-alleys, and an admiration for nature which is contrasted to the ‘concert jungle’ of the estate. Her follow-up feature, Wuthering Heights (2011) is an incredible bare-bones adaptation of the Emily Bronte novel. Previous adaptations had taken on a literary approach, attempting to stick as close to the novel as possible. Arnold however takes a Malickan approach to the novel, using little dialogue and uses nature to re-tell the story. Wuthering Heights could be Days of Heaven(1978) if it was relocated to Yorkshire. Her revisionism of a key British text ignores all that has come before it, and rather allows for the cinematic language to take over. Her willingness to use silence and wondering camera work, supported by DoP Robbie Ryan, creates a fresh style that embraces the Yorkshire Moors for all of its ugliness and beauty. Arnold herself has become a regular on festival juries, including working for Cannes in 2012, and Venice in 2013, and a regular feature on the European film circuit.


The Arbor (2010) takes another culturally important text from British history, and implants a creative and unique spin on it. The Arbor is a documentary by Clio Bernard, which uses actors to mime over the voices of people involved in the life of play write, Andrea Dunbar and her time in Bradford. Dunbar, who wrote Rita, Sue and Bob Too, is used to show the dangers of life in poverty as well as racism that can often be bred from it. Bernard is clearly interested in representing the life of the marginalised, as can be seen with her follow-up feature The Selfish Giant (2013), but just as with Andrea Arnold, she is willing to embrace new ways for British cinema to represent the council estates of Great Britain.

Steps into Hollywood – Off Kilter Mainstream

Christopher Nolan and Edgar Wright, perhaps the two directors from the wave of British directors most versed in American cinema, are unsurprisingly the two that have made greatest inroads into American cinema. Inception, the £100million project awed audiences and won a number of plaudits for its refusal to dumb itself down, a common complaint of Hollywood blockbusters. Released as the big summer film of 2010, Inception is refreshing in simple fact it’s a big budget film, made for adults, and rather than shying away from the complexities of Memento, he runs with its idea and transforms them into a big budget puzzle. The more thought-out blockbuster, films such as Prometheus (2012) or Gravity (2013), may not have been able to happen with Inception taking the first leap. The influence of Inception is still reverberating around Hollywood, and looks set to be continued with his next project, Interstellar (2014).


Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010) in many ways is the anti-Nolan film, however, and influence on Hollywood is a lot less great, but is a unique take on the comic book film. Nolan changed how the comic film was made with his Batman trilogy, he took on an extremely serious tone, and located it into the real world, a style that would be replicated in most comic book films that followed. Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs. the World however would go and celebrate the comic book in all of its glory. Its over-the-top humour, mixture of comic book and video game references, and the non-stop action, Wright maintains a constant onslaught on the audience. Although not as widely well received in America as within Britain, it did secure him the directing duties for Marvel’s newest feature, Ant Man, due out in 2015. Marvel has grown into one of the most powerful studios in the American system, and entrusting Wright to front one of their films can be seen as his integration into the American system. The work of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, however suggest that there is little chance of him losing his distinctive style in order to win American audiences over. Scott Pilgrim vs. The World draws many of its influences from the computer games world, one of which is dominated by Japan and America. Wright is extremely versed within this language just as much as that of cinema’s, and is sure to be seen as one of the first directors to openly display this influence in cinema.

Perhaps one of the strangest examples of the British cinema in Hollywood is the fantastic Les Misérables (2012), by Tom Hooper. The follow-up to his extremely Hollywood-friendly The Kings Speech (2010), Les Misérable is a strange, challenging, and eclectic piece of cinema that refuses to limit itself in order to please audiences. In many similar ways to Nolan and Inception, Hooper used his Hollywood pulling power that he gained after winning Best Director at the Oscars for The Kings Speech[6] , in order to go even bigger with his next project. Les Misérables is unashamedly big, brash, and European in style, with its subject matter, and themes. The extremely successful musical has never translated well onto the screen due to this size, but Hooper manages to keep a hold of all the strings in the story, and fills it with his distinctive composition of images. The influences of Fellini and his encompassing compositions of life in Italy run in a similar way to how Hooper shows the rich and poor in early 1800s Paris. At the core of all of this however, Hooper maintains a strong, emotional pull that as soon as it has hold of the audience, refuses to let go. Despite its Oscar nominations, Les Misérables was unsurprisingly better received on the continent than in America. Much bewilderment was met by many who were expecting a far more easy-going The Kings Speech follow-up, which follows the more traditional lines of British cinema. However, what was produced was arguably the best films from Great Britain of 2012.

2013,Beyond and the Others– The Strange and the Unexpected.
Reaching the conclusion of 2013, the original set of directors who started to come into the limelight in the late 2000s have continued to make challenging films, with directors crisscrossing between acceptance in Hollywood, many of whom maintain their distinctive styles, while others continue genre revisionism. By returning to two of the key directors in the wave, Steve McQueen and Jonathan Glazer, we can see exactly how far British cinema has come in a short space of time.

The Oscars, even in Great Britain, has been seen as the pinnacle of filmmaking. Britain has not been unaccustomed to winning the prestigious Best Picture, or Best Director (9 directors in total) awards. These films have nearly always been the stereotypic British film that shows off its regal-ness, or by someone who has been assimilated into American cinema[7]. However, Steve McQueen newest feature, 12 Years a Slave (2013) takes an incredible sensitive subject, slavery in America, and examines it in great detail. Whereas a more recent example of slavery in America, Django Unchained (2012), attempted to retell its history, 12 Years a Slave shows it in all of its gory-detail, without the distancing nature that Django Unchained creates through its use of humour and comedy. A Brit coming in as an outsider[8] to examine has created a strange reaction in American media, perhaps most controversially seen in an article by actor James Franco, “Funny that McQueen and many of his actors are non-Americans telling America history. Not that he shouldn’t, but it’s funny to think about it” [9]contains hints of an uneasiness of an outsider portraying American history in such a brutal way. By taking on such a negative story of American history, McQueen demonstrates the newfound self-confidence that is currently evident in modern British cinema. In the past, British directors were stuck in a routine of costume dramas and gangster flicks, McQueen has paved the way to a more challenging type of cinema. McQueen has managed to show a progression however in his work, which has surprisingly seen him accepted into the mainstream conciseness of America. His previous feature, Shame, was discussed as an outsider for awards season, though was unsurprisingly ignored. A film with hardcore sex and unabashed showing of the human body was always extremely unlikely to get approval from Hollywood, dealing with a subject matter typically European. 12 Years a Slave, however, has managed to avoid this same fate, dealing with a topic that undeniably intertwined with American history. It has managed to receive award recognition for its style and approach, winning the People’s Choice Award at the Toronto Film Festival, thus making it almost a shoe-in for Best Film and Director Nominations at the least. McQueen, perhaps one of the most European-like directors to come out of Britain, has become one of the most unlikely to become accepted into the Hollywood world. McQueen has managed to force his way purely through the quality of his films, rather than then through its subject matter. He has taken on topics that are extremely un-commercial, but allowed himself the freedom to explore such themes.



Where McQueen has moved towards Hollywood acceptance, Glazer has moved away from Hollywood, with his latest and third feature, Under the Skin (2013). Starring A-lister Scarlett Johansson, Under the Skin switches the gender role of the male gaze, and places Johansson in Scotland as an alien who preys on hitchhikers. The slow, strange pace and subject matter has received reviews that have stretched from it being referred to as a masterpiece, while others call it “laughably bad”[10]. Met with a split of cheers and boos at the Venice Film Festival, reviewer Xan Brooks commented in his five star review that “When a strange and unclassifiable beast walks into the world, the public has a tendency to split down the middle. One camp is beguiled and the other repulsed”[11]. This type of controversial film has been an all too rare phenomenon in British cinema, nearly always more comfortable aiming shooting for the middle, rather than taking the risk to aim high and failing. Glazer has seemingly taken on the idea of genre revisionism again, as seen in Sexy Beast, and given a fresh lease of life.

The films discussed only represent a small section of filmmakers who have had a major influence in British cinema, and I have ignored many purely due to the sheer amount of directors. Ben Wheatley, clearly influenced by Edgar Wright (who produced Wheatley’s third feature, Sightseers (2012)) and his mixtures of violence and mergers of genre have sparked the low-budget scene in Britain. Another disciple of Wright, Joe Cornish, also demonstrated similar themes with his mixture of sci-fi and the London estate in Attack the Block (2011). Richard Ayoade has displayed his love for the French New Wave in his debut Submarine (2010) and Russian literature with The Double (2013). Lynne Ramsey throughout the 2000s has been at the end of critical praise, most recently with the adaptation of the extremely successful novel, We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011). A seemingly never ending stream of directors seem to be cropping up at regular intervals within British shores, each offering fresh takes on tired genres, new influences from Europe, and in general, really good films.

DANNY MOLTRASI




[6] It should be noted that 2010 had Inception and The Kings Speech as its two most award pictures at the Oscars
[7] One notable recent exception is Slumdog Millionaire (2008) by Danny Boyle, whose fusion of Bollywood and MTV sensibilities won out in a fairly weak year.
[8] McQueen has spent time studying and living in America, but does see himself as British.

Thursday 14 November 2013

Modern North Korean Cinema and Constructed Realism.

North Korea is often viewed in two ways. A joke nation that is too big for its own boots, as can be seen in Team America: World Police (Parker, 2005). The other is the ‘Hermit Kingdom’, with people becoming obsessed by its quirks and ‘otherworldliness’, an exotic outpost that can never be understood. This latter view is enhanced by the fact that there are very few images coming from inside the country itself, and all of those are completely controlled by the government. The images that do come out are often of no interest to the media, mostly of important people looking at not so important things (check out http://kimjongillookingatthings.tumblr.com/ if this is the kind of thing you’re interested in...). But every so often, when a major news event occurs in North Korea, we are shown video from inside the nation.


The image above is taken from scenes after the death of Kim Jong-il, and pictures just like these, of women, men and children weeping openly and hysterically spread around the globe. They were however met with a great deal of suspicion (and rightly so), for they feel staged, the people completely aware that the camera is there. They are weeping, but there seem to be no tears, arguably nothing more than actors in another North Korean production. After recently re-watching these videos, I asked myself, how can we see some truth from North Korea?

Perhaps the obvious way would be to visit, but these visits are controlled short tours around Pyongyang. Having known someone who has been able to visit, although interesting, it was clear that he was unable to learn anything new from this visit, and instead was only able to see run-of-the-mill propaganda images. You could read some of the interesting books writing by people who have managed to escape, such as The Aquariums of Pyongyang or Escape from Camp 14, which are some of the handful of accounts that come from North Koreans themselves, and are fantastic books. These however are always only done in hindsight of people who are no longer living there. However, the only way to get a current image of North Korean society is through the distorted lens of the Kim family.

Cinema plays an important role in North Korean society, with many towns and cities having a local cinema ready to show new Korean films, or the occasional Soviet film. We are given some idea of its popularity in Nothing To Envy, as we are told how two young lovers originally met during the opening of a film, however the large crowd between them meant they could not speak to each other. These screenings present the chance for the government to reaffirm its ideology to its population, not too dissimilar to other totalitarian governments. However, as with many other things in North Korea, the level of control and censorship is at such an extreme level, that it is almost useless to compare it to other governments or societies. Compared to the Soviet Union for example, although censorship did exist, directors had a relatively free reign on their own films. Each film (or song, or meal, or school lesson among most things) made in North Korea must be explicitly in honour of Kim Il-Sung, Kim Jong-il, and now Kim Jong-un. This stifles much creativity, and films often drift into telling the audience how fantastic the leaders are, but we are still able to get some insight into North Korea.

A brief history runs as strangely as anything else in North Korean history. Kim Il-Sung has been credited with writing Kotpanum Chonio (Ik-kyu and Hak, 1972), as well as Kim Jong-il receiving production credits on Han Nyeohaksaengeui Ilgi/The Schoolgirl’s Dairy (In-hak, 2006). Perhaps the most notorious North Korean film however, is Pulgasari/Bulgasari (Sang-ok, 1985). Director, Sang-ok and his wife, both whom are South Korean, were kidnapped by the North Korean authorities in order to make films in North Korea. Kim Jong-il, also known as a great fan of film[1], wrote an essay for the film-makers of North Korea, entitled The Cinema and Directing[2] in which he shares his opinions on how cinema should be. Interestingly, Jong-il mentions about maintaining realism, providing an example of an instance of a film where he says that they are “destroy[ing] the realism of the production and, further, adversely affect people’s education”.[3] This requirement for true realism is a struggle however, as can be seen when watching a North Korean film, and contrasting it with what we do know about the country, especially of life outside of Pyongyang. This could be given the paradoxically term constructed realism, where a set of conditions are given to a director by a producer (in this case, Kim Jong-il) who wants to demonstrate an ideological view of where s/he comes from, a distorted utopian reality. What could be argued is that these constructed realism showing North Korea as perfect and faultless, is no different to many average Hollywood films produced about America (Independence Day (1994), Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) just a pair of many examples) . Despite these constructed reality films however, there are still moments of genuine truth, that shows the audience some of realistic moments, however these are nearly always cut short.
The Schoolgirl’s Dairy opens with a startling shot that wouldn’t be out of place in many European art films, following a young girl from behind as she walks down a path from school. What is just as interesting is the fact her schoolbag is a Mickey Mouse bag, an American (or, The Imperialist Enemy) hero. Here shows a small infiltration of Western culture that one would suspect that North Korea would rather keep under-wraps, although interestingly enough, this is not the only occasion Mickey Mouse has been to North Korea[4]. We also have a slightly different moment, where an emotional moment shows another piece of flair by In-Hak. Upon being informed that his wife has cancer, the camera begins to swirl around the Father, and the image becomes a white bright image. We then see his daughter trying to talk to him, but instead of her voice, we hear melancholy music.



Her walking down the dusty paths home from school, camera slightly jerky, or the camera swirling around the Father, are some of the few moments of seemingly spontaneity, in an otherwise almost exclusively controlled style of directing from In-Hak. These moments do occur, but almost always conclude with the camera finally settling in a still position to focus on the characters. This can be read as the continued stifling of the North Korean regime on forms of creativity and spontaneity. These moments are so few and far between, that they become standout instances in an otherwise extremely ‘paint-by-numbers’ film.

The poverty stricken, starving people that we know about in North Korea, are replaced by green gardens full of vegetables, bright clothes, smiling Mothers, and expectedly so. These are the propaganda images that are important for the sustainability of the Juche ideology, but have become so uncommon, that they become fake ideas of the reality of North Korea. In Nothing To Envy, we are told of the residents of Chongjin, in the North East of the country. A formally powerfully influential city is reduced to men and children sitting in train stations, literally starving to death awaiting trains that never arrive, hoping to illegally travel to a new city in the search of food. These children, dressed in rags, would barely recognise these bright images shown in The Schoolgirl’s Dairy.

On The Green Carpet (Kwang-il Jon, Chang-bom Rim, 2001), is based around a Mass Gymnastic Event, one of the great spectacles that can be seen in North Korea.  The film was made in the immediate aftermath of the height of the Korean famine, while the country was (and, still is), recovering from mass starvation due to miss-management of food supplies alongside extreme flooding. This, although never discussed, can be seen in short moments of truth that can reveal deeper meanings. An example of this can be seen when the children, during a picnic, are told of the benefits of basic food produce such as rice and wheat and how to squeeze it all into one meal. This is hidden under a veil of everyone eating abundantly however, with the children having plenty to eat during their picnic, as well as the family having plates of food and full glasses of beer. We are shown the reality that the North Korean population want to be given, where food is plentiful, but there is an occasionally subtle acknowledgement that they need to make do with what they have, even if this amount is greatly exaggerated. How the people eat is the reality North Korea want, fake and constructed to fulfil what the North Korean people are told.


The children, and the audience, are reminded that “the children have nothing to envy in the world”. Ironically, ‘Nothing to Envy’ is also the title of the book by Barbara Demick looking at the real lives of those living in North Korea. Maybe the most important theme in the film is the mutual love between Kim Jong-il and the children of North Korea, who are constantly told how much Kim Jong-il cares for them, for example being told things such as his desire to give his coat to all the children who were out in the rain during a performance he saw. The children, who take part in the performance group we follow, are told they are the planets orbiting the sun, which represents Kim Jong-il, and they must protect him. We see in a flashback, the coach of the group demanding to perform in a show for Kim Jong-il despite his Mother dying the same morning. Brainwashing of the young children is a vital component of maintaining power for the Kim family, with them being taught of their heroic deeds from their very first days at school. These stories are again, far from the truth, but are told so often, children have no choice but to believe it. Who are they to question if Kim il-Sung really did defeat armies by himself, or that Kim Jong-il does not need to urinate, when it is told to them from day one? These constructed realities spill into real life, and slowly become the truth for these children to carry into adulthood. There is a blurring of reality and fake that is started from birth. What the North Korean people see in real life is not the truth, but rather what they read in the newspapers and see in their infrequent cinema visits is.

One of the few films from North Korea that deals with the outsider visiting the country is The Country I Saw (Ko Hak Rim and Jon Hong Sok, 1988) which is about a Japanese visitor to the country. The notion of dealing with the outsider presents a confusing ideology that often contradicts itself, both wanting to invite them in for monetary gains, but also fearful of outside influence. Predictably, eventually the Japanese visitor is amazed by North Korea and wants to stay. He is given free health care (we are supposed to believe that wooden teeth are an amazing medical treatment!), plenty of food, the normally all too rare tractors are commonly seen, as well as becoming fully aware of the horrors that the Japanese inflicted upon the Korean people during the war, despite the Korean peoples defiance. What is most interesting about this film is that it is consciously aware of the outsider, looking in. The film comes across as a tourism advert, attempting to bring in non-North Koreans (interestingly enough, leading tour group Koryo Tours was set up only a few years after the film had its release[5]). We are shown how main character Takahashi Minoru is allowed to freely visit the country, telling his guides on a whim what he wishes to do and where to go. This is clearly in confliction with the reality of visiting the country, which are often blighted by strict tours of certain places, limited availability to take photos and constantly being confronted with dead-ends. However, what tourists and immigrants did bring was an influx of foreign currency. The country was becoming desperately short of hard currency around the late 80s, and money that was coming in, mostly from Japan, was helping to keep the country on its feet. What we can see in The Country I Saw, is some of first attempts of the government inviting some kind of investment into North Korea by selling the idea of it being the perfect homeland. Whereas normally the cinema of North Korea is used to reaffirm the ‘constructed realism’ to the North Korean audience, we are also given ‘constructed realism’ for the outsider looking in. This however is contradicted throughout due to the deep-seated mistrust of the foreigner, especially the Japanese.

We know that the treatment of Japanese inside North Korea, or even those with links to Japanese people, is never as friendly as that shown in The Country I Saw. In The Aquariums of Pyongyang, as well as Nothing To Envy, we receive accounts of those who had travelled from Japan to North Korea during the recovery after the Korean War. Kang Chol-Hwan tells us of the suspicion that automatically attaches to those people, and this family history of his was the sole reason for him to be sent to Yodok concentration camp. Despite his family choosing to come back to North Korea, his grandfather was arrested for treason, and under the three generations of punishment he was sent to a camp too. During The Country I Saw, we are often shown and reminded the treatment that the Koreans received at the hands of the Japanese occupiers, as well as the current Japanese population being shown as arrogant and dismissive of the North Korean population. Although the film is attempting to draw in supporters of North Korea, it is not going to ignore the ‘threat’ from Japan. This ‘imaginary threat’ helps to support the state of war that North Korea continually force-feds its population, to help keep the population on side of with the government. By constructing this reality, and maintaining it through its cinema, the population remain fearful of the foreign invasion, and continue to mistrust the outsider.

Images from these films however are shown up when compared with the short instagram videos taken by David Guttenfield, the Associated Press chief Asia photographer. Guttenfield was able to take some film footage while in North Korea, a rare glimpse taken by an outsider. Instead of plentiful fields, we see endless, empty roads http://instagram.com/p/cDEIq1Aw94/ . Instead of bustling cities, we see the infamous power cuts that constantly trouble life, even in the city of Pyongyang http://instagram.com/p/b_Fl2SAw6Z/ . The most powerful video however may be the simple, short video of two ice cream sellers shyly giggling to each other http://instagram.com/p/cuxaAHgwz9/ . A simple, human reaction to being filmed, is able to give us a true human emotion, perhaps the closest thing to realism that Kim Jong-il desired in his manifesto. Through this short video, we are reminded that no matter how different a place we may come from, basic human nature remains intact.

By blurring the boundaries of reality and fiction, North Korean cinema and government have managed to create a new type of realism cinema that perpetrates certain ideas that they wish to become ‘reality’. By continually telling the public lies, they eventually become reality. How can you tell the difference between real and fake, when you seem to be the only one outside your household who see’s starvation and poverty? The North Korean government are able to construct their own reality through fear, which they are able to reinforce through cinema, just like Hollywood is able to reinforce racial or gender stereotypes through its films. Watching North Korean as an outsider however, as the non-intended audience who are strangely more aware of the situation, are able to reel out moments of ‘true reality’, albeit it tiny chunks. If we tell the people to cry for our leader, eventually, the people will cry.
DANNY MOLTRASI

What's The Point of Cinema?

Film was originally a novelty entertainment, used to shock and thrill audiences in small, dark rooms in the late 1800s. Audience members would giggle and gossip as they left the room, thrilled by seeing the latest Lumière or Méliès, discussing what they had witnessed, before quickly moving onto the next piece of cheap entertainment. As the 21st century begins to grow into itself, has cinema moved on from this? Is Lumière and the audience of the 1800s any different to Michael Bay and the audience of the 2000s? And perhaps more importantly, does it even matter?

Cinema is often referred to as the newest art form, a form that allows, and actively encourages collaboration. However it stands in a fairly unique position in the art world, in that it is more commonly seen as a form of cheap entertainment that is easily dismissed by the average cinema-goer, rather than something to be considered and discussed, ala a painting, or a piece of theatre. Everyone has their own favourite film, or favourite actor, whereas fewer people of the general public would be able to name their favourite painter, or favourite sculptor. This accessibility has become both a blessing and a curse in the development of cinema, where it seems to be eternally stuck in limbo, between mass-entertainment, and respectability that is often associated with the art world.  People are put off by the term, ‘art-film’, whereas a similar term does not even exist for other ‘art’ forms. Why has this become a dirty word for cinema? And how can cinema use this ability to enter public consciousness for a more important cultural reason, rather than just for a bit of fun?
There will be no clear answers here. However what there will be is a place to talk of all cinema, high and low brow, Western and Eastern cinema, and everything in-between on an equal footing.What’s the Point of Cinema? Is looking to create a platform where nothing is higher than something else, and global cinema is represented on equal terms.