Tuesday, February 15, 2011

4'33"

I tried.  I really did.  But I cannot get into John Cage.

Sorry.

Intertextuality in Pastiche film

Right now I'm reading Fredric Jameson's Postmodernism, specifically the section on the rise of pastiche.  Pastiche film--meaning parody's apolitical successor, including nostalgia films--is a remarkable indicator of where we are in the postmodern era.  I'm reminded of the past decade's popular but critically panned "movie movies" that "satirized" (using the word loosely) elements of genre films.  Films like "Scary Movie" seem to suffer from attention-deficit disorder, leaping from one pop culture reference to the next without stopping to make any sort of subjective commentary.  Although one would be hard pressed to find any cinematic merit in such films, these new parodies do show evidence of postmodern sensibilities, most of all a playful attitude and a heightened intertextuality.  Without a basic knowledge of the genre being spoofed and recent tabloid news, the viewer is unable to appreciate the jokes.  However, unlike the intertextual nature of period films or earlier parodies (such as Blazing Saddles) which require a thorough knowledge of a specific genre or past era, these films depend on a shallow awareness of an array of subjects.  I'm not sure what this means for the future of pastiche; it's possible that this apolitical quilt of spoofs will continue to devolve into smaller and smaller parts, but this is a grim prospect.  Jameson echoes this pessimistic sentiment: "For with the collapse of the high-modernist ideology of style . . . the producers of culture have nowhere to turn but to the past."  This carries almost apocalyptic undertones for me; I don't think  I can stand another spastic movie movie.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Cameras that act like cameras: the pseudo-reflexive Truman Show

At the moment I'm watching The Truman Show, which I've seen more times than I can count.  Peter Weir's 1998 film follows Truman Burbank as he is born and raised, unaware, in a TV-set world.  What's interesting to me this time around is the hybrid camera technique, alternating between narrative and documentary styles.  About a third of the film's shots are framed from the perspective of "hidden cameras" that document Truman's artificial world and broadcast it.  These cameras often hide behind objects in the foreground or simulate the POV of shirt buttons, car radios, or other actors' hidden-camera POVs.

Although there's something to be said about inserting documentary camera angles into a narrative film, I was caught by the idea that this camera style is almost, but not quite, reflexive.  Unlike a film like Fight Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, or Godard's Pierrot le Fou, in which characters will stare into the camera and address the viewer directly, the actor-characters of The Truman Show (with the exception of Truman, the only inhabitant of his world who is not an actor or extra) address a fictional viewer when they acknowledge the camera, whether it be to advertise a product or, when Truman escapes, to speak to the crew monitoring the live feed.  It's almost as if the film creates a false fourth wall in order to break it.

What's distinctly postmodern about this concept is the way that the camera does not commit entirely to this style.  Like 2009's District 9, this film hybridizes narrative and fiction in a playful way, cut with comedy.  Although some political message can be construed from the film (a criticism of America's obsession with TV culture, perhaps--especially interesting because this was made just before the advent of reality television shows) the message is not overt.  Jim Carrey's comedic performance as the goofy but pensive Truman, full of slapstick and his famous rubber-face expression, make the dense, multi-layer plot digestible.