Monday 27 January 2014

Kentucker Audley - What's The Point of Cinema?




KENTUCKER AUDLEY -


"I make movies to document the personalities and relationships of those around me. 

What I get out of watching movies is a pure mystery, which I like to preserve."

Filmography

Director - 
Team Picture (2007)
Holy Land (2010)
Open Five (2010)
Open Five 2 (2012)

Actor (Selected) -
Marriage Material (2012)
V/H/S (2012)
Sun Don't Shine (2012)
Ain't Them Bodies Saints (2013)

NOBUDGE - NoBudge is an online screening venue & hub for true indie films. It was started in February 2011 by filmmaker Kentucker Audley to premiere & compile true indie films.



Friday 24 January 2014

Anti-War films and The Wolf of Wall Street

After reading the fantastically written and studied article by Tyler Sage on BrightLights Film about The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), and if it condemns or promotes the rash behaviour of its protagonists, I couldn't help wonder about the comparison used by him in regards to anti-war films. He lists a number of films that are supposedly ‘anti-war’, focusing on Apocalypse Now (1979), Platoon (1986) and Full Metal Jacket (1987). It discusses the idea that by demonstrating war in itself, they are in essence glorifying it, no matter how brutal the images that are shown are. He pulls an example from Tony Swofford and how these films demonstrate the ‘magic brutality’ of war. Sage extends this to The Wolf of Wall Street where the ‘magic of excess’ is shown. In simple terms, how can it be ‘anti-anything’, when it looks so great and is so much fun to watch?
However, it seems to me that Sage, as well as Swofford are aware that this is not always the case. Sage quotes Swofford in his memoir, Jarhead,

 "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson in Omaha or San Francisco or Manhattan . . . watch the films and weep and decide once and for all that war is inhuman and terrible," while at the same time, "Corporal Johnson at Camp Pendleton and Sergeant Johnson at Travis Air Force base . . . and Lance Corporal Swofford at Twentynine Palms Marine Corps Base watch the same films and are excited by them, because the magic brutality of the films celebrates the terrible and despicable beauty of their fighting skills."

Swofford acknowledges the paradox of this (and films in general), in that two people can watch the same film and get two different versions. Whereas as one is repulsed by the images, someone else is just as likely to find it exciting and wish to replicate. You are just as likely to be for it, as against it.

I do feel that there are films that are generally seen as ‘anti-war’, but become explicitly ‘pro-war’ by demonstrating it as glorious and heroic. Saving Private Ryan (1998) is perhaps the best example of this, with its infamous extended opening on the beaches. Spielberg shows the brutality, but shows it as heroic, as ‘us vs. them’, ‘good vs. bad’. It’s almost impossible not to want to join those men on the beaches. This, for me, makes it a failure in its aims. In contrast, a film from the same year, The Thin Red Line (1998), is able to show the brutality of war, without giving into the same traps as Saving Private Ryan. We instead see the inner-conflict within those taking part, and how it destroys them, as well as everything around them. These are what separates good cinema from bad cinema, intending to send a message, and sending it in a clear and correct manner. Saving Private Ryan by sticking to structure muddles its message, whereas The Thin Red Line by using muddling voiceovers and scenes has a clear and structured messaged. War will always be controversial and provoke innate response both for and against it, and money (and therefore power) provokes the same kind of extreme reactions.


The Wolf of Wall Street completes a trio of films from 2013 that deal with excessive natures (specifically of that in America), and how money corrupts. The Bling Ring and Pain and Gain look at this in contrasting ways, with Pain and Gain being more along the same lines as The Wolf of Wall Street in its chaotic nature, matching its extreme topic with extreme displays on-screen. All three have been met with mixed responses in a certain manner, suggesting similar conflicts with the audience when discussing greed. The Wolf of Wall Street examines corruption at its most extreme and ugliness. The Wolf of Wall Street is played for laughs, Jordan Belfort is such a disgusting person, and with Scorsese ramping everything up, it’s almost impossible not to see the humour involved. We are shown the absolutely ridiculousness of these men who can get whatever they want, but we are always laughing at them, not with them. These are terrible people who are guilty of greed at its most extreme. Scenes of Di Caprio crawling to his car are incredibly well done and made, but who truly wants to be in that state? Criticising the ending, questioning if Belfort ‘got what he deserved’ seem even stranger. Well the answer is obvious, he didn't, but do any of these men, both then, and now get what they deserve for exploitation? Scorsese shows us what is wrong with capitalism, where a person can get off with mass-fraud with limited punishment, in a fairly comfortable environment. By making the film into almost a farce, Scorsese however makes this idea more accessible than perhaps other attempts to demonstrate the same idea in a more obvious way. Many reviewers seem to be struggle with the blurring of lines between enjoying and appreciating the film, but not agreeing with the characters actions. By enjoying (or not enjoying) you are not agreeing (or disagreeing) with what a film is saying. Criticising 12 Years a Slave (2013) for poorly sending its message does not mean you condone slavery, nor does enjoying The Wolf of Wall Street mean you like Jordan Belfort.


Where I do feel The Wolf of Wall Street does let itself down is in terms of its near complete dismissal of women. Its main female roles are purely sex objects, and the surrounding roles are often objectified. The clearest example of this is during one of Belfort’s speeches, in which he points out a female member of staff who had been in the company since the start. However this is the first time we have seen her, or even mentioned. She is wholly ignored, perhaps because Scorsese felt that women had no place within this pumped up environment. Does this however make the film sexiest? Again, no, but it does give it a massive blind spot that needs to be addressed by film critics when discussing the film.

Or, perhaps I am just a greedy sexiest pig, because I loved every moment of The Wolf of Wall Street.

Monday 20 January 2014

Black Cinema and Gaining Recognition

12 Years a Slave (2013) is a fantastically powerful work, one that has deservedly-so been gaining acclaim from critics and the average cinema-goer. It has also gained a heap of nominations at this year’s Oscars, leading to the discussion of ‘will Steve McQueen be the first black director to win?’[1]. After watching the film, and being a huge admirer of the previous two McQueen feature films, I couldn’t help but wonder why this film has led to McQueen making a massive jump into the mainstream conciseness. Hunger (2008) and Shame (2011) are as equally compelling and creative as 12 Years a Slave, yet received none of the same adulation in the mainstream (both did however do fantastically well with critics and on the festival circuit). All three films seem to deal with taboo subjects, Hunger with IRA hunger strikes, Shame with sex addiction, 12 Years a Slave with slavery. All three deal with issues of the body, all have scenes and structures that stray from the norm and all three maintain a visual beauty to them.
The main difference is clear however, 12 Years a Slave deals purely with a ‘black-persons history’. It can be called a ‘black story’, and located as ‘black cinema’. Whereas the other two are ‘raceless’[2], 12 Years a Slave can be specifically sold as a black film by a black director. This may seem counter-intuitive in the fact that if it is a ‘black film’, then how can it become the norm in a white mainstream. But slavery is something white people can feel sympathy for, being able to stand from afar and say “Yes, what terrible things happen to black people!”, feel satisfied and then leave the cinema. By watching 12 Years a Slave, the vastly white majority of Oscar voters (94% are white, 77% male. 2% are black[3]) can show that they do care about black people. It can be argued therefore that there is almost a taboo about criticising a film such as 12 Years a Slave. If you criticise the film, are you therefore saying you don’t care about the treatment of people during slavery? Of course not, but with the rise of White Guilt[4], white people are often weary of race-related comments. Add to this a lot of old white men man panicking over their voting cards, then we are bound to get some strange voting. This almost makes the voting hollow. If the white voters can find a film in which they can seem to prove they actually do care about black people, then they can feel satisfied.

We can see this kind of view with previous nominees. If we look at the two previous black director nominees, Boyz N The Hood (1991) by John Singleton and Precious (2009) by Lee Daniels, we can see similar themes where white people can say “Oh what terrible things are happening!”. Boyz N The Hood allows old white men to not only seem ‘cool’ and ‘hip’, but to also show they care about the ‘young street urchin’ who can’t help themselves. Precious allows them to feel sorry for the stupid, ugly, fat black girl who is riddled with disease and cannot look after her own child. With the help of a white support team however, she can pull through! Both help fulfil negative black stereotypes, while simultaneously giving the white audience the satisfaction of feeling they care and want to help these poor people. Lee Daniels presents an interesting case to support this. The Paperboy (2012) is a non-race specific, and was ignored by the mainstream (despite star-names being involved). However his follow-up to that, Lee Daniels’ The Butler (2013), this time a race specific film, become one of the biggest financial hits of 2013 (it did however miss out on Oscar nominations despite gaining awards elsewhere. Perhaps one black film a year is enough?).

This is repeated in Best Picture nominees, and those with black producers. In addition to the three mentioned, we also have The Colour Purple (1985) that talks of slavery and poverty. The Blind Side (2009) with a stupid black man who makes it to the NFL thanks to his white adoptive Mother, and finally Django Unchained (2012) with Tarantino blaxploitation riff on slavery. Again, all are able to fit into a race-specific frame work, which limits black people into only a few select stories, that of poverty and slavery.

This is not to say that any of these films are bad. I would say that out of those mentioned, only The Blind Side is overtly racist and poor. Nor do I feel these films intend to re-enforce negative (or any) stereotypes, but what they do do, is reaffirm the limited number of stories that can be had for films involving black people. This does not mean that story on slavery is any less important or valued because of this.  Although a Best Director win at this year’s Oscars for McQueen would be a fantastic leap for black directors, it will not really break any ‘glass-ceiling’ for black directors. Until a black director makes a film that cannot be identified as being black, and wins major awards for it, are we truly making progression in terms of where non-white film-makers are in Hollywood and the mainstream.



[1] http://www.theguardian.com/culture/2014/jan/17/steve-mcqueen-first-black-director-oscar
[2] Raceless in the terms that white characters are seen as the norm. More reading can be done on this with the essay by Peggy McIntosh and ‘White Privilege’. http://www.amptoons.com/blog/files/mcintosh.html
[3] http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/movies/academy/la-et-unmasking-oscar-academy-project-html,0,7473284.htmlstory#axzz2qw13rmVH
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_guilt

Friday 3 January 2014

Watching films from other cultures, and can we truly understand? Specifically focusing on the two feature films of Djibril Diop Mambéty.

One of the main reasons I enjoy cinema is that it opens doors to any corner of the world I wish to see. I can be transported into regions that I may never visit, and see people I could never even imagine. Each national cinema is unique to that culture, to its own national/regional stories and symbolism. Because of this however, how can the outsider ever truly understand or appreciates a film that comes from a place they have no knowledge of. How much does the outsider miss? Do they see a completely different film to those of the films native country? Do we even want to see the reality of a country, or rather a blurred view of the exotic?

Edward Saïd, in his book Orientalism[1], wrote in his post-colonialism book how the West imposes certain values and stereotypes on cultures (specifically focusing on the Middle East), both enforcing negative, and romanticised versions. Western Cinema (focusing specifically of that of American and Western European) has inevitably fallen for this short-hand trap, and continually does so. Najat Z. J Dajani’s thesis, Arabs in Hollywood: Orientalism in Film [2] not only presents a fantastic filmography of a number of offending films, but also a fantastic background to a number of case studies and how these views have changed and developed over-time. Sadly however, his work only focuses on the same group as Saïd, and hints at a potential for redemption by Hollywood. However, this was stunted in post-9/11 Hollywood where the Arab would quickly become less exotic, and more demonised. When foreigners are shown in Western films, they are often reduced to these ‘oriental’ ideas.
Foreign made films find it notoriously hard to find audiences in the Western world. However, when one does break through, they often find themselves fulfilling a kind of self-prophecy, as they meet certain stereotypes. We can continue to see such representations of other broad ethnic groups, both negative and romanticised in many foreign made films. The ‘Gesiha’ female East Asian (You Only Live Twice (1967), Memoirs of a Gesiha (2005)) , or ninja male, in a Wuxia film, (The Karate Kid (1984), The Last Samurai (2003))is just one example. If we look at the most successful 50 foreign language films at the Hollywood Box Office[3], 8 are from East Asia, 6 of which are Wuxia. The most successful of not only this group, but of any group is Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) directed by Ang Lee. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon became an incredibly successful film, featuring plenty of fighting scenes, Gesihas and old Chinese buildings. It can be seen as a blend of all of the East Asian stereotypes in one, epic film, a perfect storm of unintentional orientalism that had the West foaming. It perfectly fits into the prism of a Western view of that culture, and therefore the impressive film-making becomes recognised, rather than mistrusted or dismissed. This doesn’t diminish the work of Lee, but rather provides an example of how the West is only willing to accept certain films that fulfil certain viewpoints. As an audience from the West, we automatically impose Western ideas and symbolism onto these films, even when they are not intended for that purpose. When these are missing however, we are likely to quickly dismiss, or become weary of film or film-maker.

Senegalese film-maker, Djibril Diop Mambéty, provides an interesting example of how films can only be successful when they are easier to digest through Western views and symbolism. Mambéty made only two feature length films, Touki Bouki (1973), and Hyénes (1992). Touki Bouki became the far more successful film of the pair, picking up awards at Cannes, as well as entering in at 52 in Empire magazines top 100 non-English language films[4]. But what is interesting is the reasons why it is considered to be so great. The Empire magazine entry alone states that the film is “shot through with French New Wave fizz that flies in the face of conventional African cinema”[5], and that it is a “hybrid of French style and African subject matter”[6]. Apart from the massive generalisation made by Empire, implying that the whole of Africa shares the same influences and problems (a similar statement would never be made in respect to Europe, or Asia), these statements clearly suggest that the film is important because it looks European. Touki Bouki goes hand-in-hand with French New Wave. The reason for this is simple, and understandable, it gives the audience a reference point when watching the film. It provides a place to enter, and understand what they are watching.  When we see quick jump-cuts and frenzied editing, instead of being confused, we can say, “ah, yes, Godard did this as well”. We automatically bring it back into our culture, and elevate it above what we do not attempt to understand.

Hyénes on the other-hand, is a far less successful film in terms of its canonical place in film history. Hyénes is a slower-paced film, and is clearly less reliant on the French New Wave influences. This however removes the entry point that Touki Bouki has, and is therefore rather hidden beneath this monolith of African cinema. Writing on Hyénes is far more limited because of this. Hyénes is a simple story of how money, love and greed can change anyone for the worse. A well-respected future mayor, Dramaan (Mansour Diouf) suddenly finds his life threatened when an extremely wealthy ex-lover returns home and places a bounty on his head. Richard Porton’s review is quick to attempt to position it with a Western entry point, by saying (and again, generalising a whole continental cinema) that “Contemporary African films have been preoccupied with two interlocking themes: the painful legacy of a colonialist past and a concomitant ambivalence towards Western modernity”[7]. Although this is a clearly unavoidable issue the film is attempting to deal with, Porton ignores altogether many more interesting themes and ideas that Mambéty uses.

One of the few interviews with Mambéty, done by N. Frank Ukadike, provides an interesting outlook by Mambéty on how cinema is viewed. Ukadike asks why one of the bodyguards is Asian; Mambéty says that “The point is not that she is Asian. The point is that everyone in Colobane--everyone everywhere--lives within a system of power that embraces the West”[8]Mambéty also continues throughout to try press the point that Hyénes is a human film, rather than a specific type of film representing a specific group.

To make Hyènes even more continental, we borrowed elephants from the Masai of Kenya, hyenas from Uganda, and people from Senegal. And to make it global, we borrowed somebody from Japan, and carnival scenes from the annual Carnival of Humanity of the French Communist Party in Paris. All of these are intended to open the horizons, to make the film universal. The film depicts a human drama. My task was to identify the enemy of humankind: money, the International Monetary Fund, and the World Bank. I think my target is clear.
While Hyènes tells a human story to the whole world, I also wanted to pay homage to the beauty of Africa when I made the film.”[9]

This flies in the face of the Western view that a film of this nature could only be a response to internal problems faced by those in Senegal or Africa. Mambéty has instead intended to make a global film, rather than one that pleases Western critics through images of the ‘Oriental’.  When Mambéty is later on asked about the potential of co-financial productions with European and African film companies, Mambéty reply is clear “I don't want to talk about Europe. Let's talk about making films in Africa. Europe is not important for me.”[10] With Hyénes, Mambéty shuns the views of the ‘Oriental’, and embraces the human. This perhaps could be seen as a threatening stand-point, as it shows Africans not needing help of the superior West, but rather attempting to mutually help each other. We cannot look down anymore, but rather look eye-to-eye.

Whether this patronising view, the view of the ‘Oriental’ will change in the near future is extremely doubtful. While Western film critics continue to dismiss films that they do not understand, rather than attempting to learn what certain types of symbolism may mean, or embracing new regional styles of film-making, it is extremely unlikely that a highly successful film will emerge from a smaller country and enter mainstream Western consciousness. However, living in an age where it is incredibly easy to discover at access films from anywhere, there is room for the tide to slowly change, and for undiscovered films, both from the past and present, to be found, and appreciated on the level it deserves. Maybe we can never understand completely a film made on the other side of the Earth, but that doesn’t mean we cannot appreciate it and enjoy.

DANNY MOLTRASI



[1] Orientalism by Edward Saïd (Published 1978)
[2] Arabs in Hollywood: Orientalism in Film by Najat Z.J Dajani (Published 2000) https://circle.ubc.ca/bitstream/handle/2429/10580/ubc_2000-0378.pdf?sequence=1
[5] Ibid
[6] Ibid
[9] Ibid
[10] Ibid