Category Archives: art

When the paratext is more interesting than the text

Exploitation Poster Art (2005) – Dave Kehr, Tony Nourmand, Graham Marsh [Amazon.com] [FR] [DE] [UK]

Horror Poster Art (2004) – Tony Nourmand, Graham Marsh [Amazon.com] [FR] [DE] [UK]

Science Fiction Poster Art (2004) – Christopher Frayling, Tony Nourmand, Graham Marsh [Amazon.com] [FR] [DE] [UK]

In Europe, publisher Taschen have teamed up with Nourmand/Marsh, to publish a series of film poster books. Available in Belgium at a price of 13 Euros, they are a bargain. Some of the accompanying text of these lovingly produced coffee table books was written by American film critic Dave Kehr (Exploitation poster art) and British art historian Christopher Frayling (Science-fiction poster art). The posters are masterpieces of visual innuendo, offering, in most cases, far more that the films actually delivered. And that is what I meant in my title about the paratext being more interesting than the text.

Jean Painlevé

Via Invisible Cinema comes this announcement of a special curated by Valeria Mogilevich entitled Nouvelle Vague: Submerged Scientific Films & Firefly Cinema: Somewhere not Here? screened at the Anthology Film Archives. One of the films shown is the one pictured below, which I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in a double bill with Georges Franju’s 1949 The Blood of the Beasts at the Antwerp film museum. The 1934 The Sea Horse is scored by French impressionist composer Darius Milhaud, as are some of his others.

The Sea Horse (1934) – Jean Painlevé

Jean Painlevé (1902-1989) was the director of more than two hundred science and nature films and an early champion of the genre. Advocating the credo “science is fiction,” Painlevé scandalized the scientific world with a cinema designed to entertain as well as edify. He portrayed sea horses, vampire bats, and fanworms as endowed with human traits – the erotic, the comical, and the savage – and in the process won over the circle of Surrealists and avant-gardists he befriended, among them the filmmakers Sergei Eisenstein, Jean Vigo, and Luis Buñuel.

The poetics of Fritz Freleng

Girish asks:

“Why is it that acts that would horrify us in real life instead evoke in us shameless, uncontainable joy when encountered in a cartoon?”

Girish’s post is part of the Friz Freleng Blog-A-Thon by Brian Darr at Hell On Frisco Bay.

The first person to have tried to answer Girish’s question was Aristotle in Poetics when he said (I am providing two alternative translations):

  • Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. –sourced here. [Aug 2005]
  • for we enjoy looking at accurate likenesses of things which are themselves painful to see, obscene beasts, for instance, and corpses. –sourced here. [Aug 2005]

Poetics () – Aristotle

More on Freleng:

Isadore “Friz” Freleng (1906–1995) was an animator, cartoonist, director, and producer best known for his work on the Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies series of cartoons from Warner Bros. He introduced and/or developed several of the studio’s biggest stars, including Porky Pig, Tweety Bird, Sylvester the cat, Yosemite Sam (to whom he was said to bear more than a passing resemblance) and Speedy Gonzales. He was a contemporary of the better known Tex Avery.

The theme of this post reminds me of an article at Wikipedia, called cartoon physics and maybe by analogy there is also such a thing as cartoon psychology, in other words the psychological realism (and here and here) of Hollywood?

Free Music Festival XXXIII

I went to the 18th edition of the Free Music Festival at the Singel in Antwerp where I saw Marc Ducret (guitar) & Scorpène Horrible (video performance).

The surprise of the evening was the Italian band Zu accompanied by Mats Gustafsson, although I left when my ears started to hurt after a prolonged electronic noise interlude.

Free Music Festival is an initiative of Fred Van Hove, a free jazz musician best known for his collaborations with Peter Brötzmann.

Cache (2005) – Michael Haneke

Cache (Hidden) (2005) – Michael Haneke

[Amazon.com] [FR] [DE] [UK]

I saw Caché, a 2005 French language film by one of my favourite directors Michael Haneke. In the extras Haneke explains why he made this film. He wanted to work with Daniel Auteuil (Sade), who he hadn’t worked with before. He wanted to write a film where an adult was confronted with something he had done when a child and he wanted to write about the Paris massacre of 1961, when 200 peaceful Algerian demonstrators were killed by the police by being driven into the river Seine.

The level of psychological realism is very high which does not give a very optimistic film, but as Haneke explains: “it is far more enjoyable to work with me than to view a film by me.” That’s why the film has a feelgood factor of about 0/10.

The film does not give any answers, we never know who sent the tapes. Haneke: “I like the audience to finish the film; novels evoke images, cinema steals them, I am constantly looking for ways to give that power back to the spectator.” (transcription mine).

Some films, says Haneke, have had “a profound influence on my mental health and stability.” He mentions Paolini’s Salò (1975) as one such film and explains that some people even speak of cinema in terms of pre- and post-Salò.

He quotes Robert Bresson and Tarkovsky as two directors who have destabilized him in the same way.

What I found most satisfying in the film is the realism and especially the pacing, the film is slow but the rhythm is excellent.

Haneke in the blogosphere:

Girish as quality qualifier: (method used: Google: Girish+Haneke): Girish on Code Unknown, CultureSpace on Code Unknown, LongPauses on Code Unknown, The Evening Class on Code Unknown, Jim Emerson on the opening sequence of Caché.

It would seem that Girish works well as a quality qualifier 😉

One more quote by Jim Emerson:

“It may be a recent film, but I don’t think it’s too early to canonize Michael Haneke’s “Caché” opening shot as one of the greats. Haneke’s first image prepares the viewer for his film’s astounding distortion of the cinematic lens.

A static shot of a house at the end of a Parisian street during early morning seems perfectly banal, as Daniel Auteuil’s character walks over to his car. But then, in voice-over, Binoche and Auteuil begin to discuss the workings of the shot — they didn’t see the camera, so how was this footage created? One of them comments that the shot is too clear to be shot through glass (i.e. hidden in someone’s car).” —Jim Emerson

Using “K-punk” as quality qualifier (method used: Google: Girish+Haneke): gives the following results: Steven Shaviro on Caché

Steven somehow contradicts Haneke’s intention of leaving interpretation up to the viewer saying:

“What’s great about the film is that it produces affective blockage on every level. It doesn’t offer the viewer (or the characters) any way out. The protagonists, Georges (Daniel Auteuil) and Anne (Juliette Binoche), are intellectual yuppies just like the target audience of the film, just like me.”

Steven’s review leads a political analysis by Armond White, who curiously forgets to add the é in Caché:

” Besides, Caché isn’t exciting anyway. When critics praise it, they’re congratulating their own bland sense of titillation; going along with Haneke’s thesis that mere recognition of the West’s guilt (in this film’s case, France’s lingering self-reproach over the Algerian Occupation from the ‘50s to the ‘60s) is tantamount to intellectual and moral progress.” —Armond White

Update [Aug 21 2006]

On my first viewing I had missed the final scene and somebody at notcoming.org describes it as:

Pierrot and Majid’s son (I don’t believe the film provides him an actual first name) do meet up on the front steps of the school in the final shot. Their inaudible discussion [for which Haneke had provided a dialog, but refused to reveal it in the extras on my version of the DVD] appears to be fairly amicable.

Conclusion:

The question of who sent the tapes is open to interpretation. Majid and his son both deny involvement. There is a cryptic last scene (as the credits roll) of Pierrot and Majid’s son interacting in front of Pierrot’s school. Haneke has said in interviews that he wrote a dialogue for that scene but he will never reveal the contents of that dialogue.

Missed: Undercover Surrealism

April 1929, first edition of Documents

Undercover Surrealism explores the ’subversive climate’ of the dark undercurrent within Surrealism in the late 1920’s spearheaded by Georges Bataille. The exhibition draws together work by Picasso, Miro, Masson, Giacometti as well as imagery from the magazine Bataille edited from 1929 to 1930 called DOCUMENTS :

“..a shocking and bizarre juxtaposition of art, ethnography, archaeology and popular culture in such a way that overturned conventional notions of ‘primitive’ and ‘ideal’. Bataille described himself as Surrealism’s ‘enemy from within’… ”

The exhibition ran at the Hayward Gallery till the 30th July 2006.

Via Desert and Sea

Robert Benayoun

 

Robert Benayoun, photocredit unidentified
Image source here

Érotique du surréalisme (1965|1978) – Robert Benayoun
[Amazon.com]
[FR] [DE] [UK]

Robert Benayoun wrote in the tradition of Ado Kyrou, Eric Losfeld, Joseph-Marie Lo Duca and Jean-Pierre Bouyxou, with an absolute disregard for the perceived boundaries between low and high culture. If you follow the source link of the photograph, there is a Spanish article on Benayoun’s work Érotique du surréalisme.

Regarding the publishing house of Eric Losfeld, Éditions Le Terrain Vague, I’ve always wondered if there were German and British equivalents of it. In the United States houses such as Grove Press come to mind, but I know of no equivalents in Germany or the UK.

Don and Dreams

PCL linkdump has a trailer (listen to those drums) from the 1978 film Don and via Greencine comes the Google video of Man Ray and Hans Richter’s Dreams that Money Can Buy.

More on Dreams and the people who made a new soundtrack for it:

“This is a Story of Dreams mixed with Reality”.

When Marek first showed me Hans Richter’s film ‘Dreams that Money Can Buy” as a potential project, I knew from this introductory salvo that I was in. It’s a difficult, deeply flawed film in many ways but it is also remarkable, extraordinary, ground-breaking, massively influential, comic and poignant in turns. It says things about Surrealism, film, art, the American Dream, dreaming in general and the emergence of therapy-practitioners as the new priestly elite, that hadn’t been said before – and possibly haven’t since. It captures the mysterious, confusing, meaningless-meaningfulness of Dreaming in a way that few films have – apart from perhaps David Lynch’s work – and it’s obviously no coincidence that Lynch himself has declared it as a major influence. —theclerkenwellkid

Dreams That Money Can Buy (1947) – Man Ray, Hans Richter

I wrote this summary on Wikipedia, feel free to contribute:

Dreams That Money Can Buy is a 1947 American experimental feature color film written, produced, and directed by surrealist artist and dada film-theorist Hans Richter.

Collaborators included Max Ernst, Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, Alexander Calder, Darius Milhaud and Fernand Léger.


It won a special prize at the 1947 Venice Film Festival.

 

See also: surrealism in film

Lunacy: new Svankmajer

David Hudson at greencine reports on a new film by Jan Švankmajer.

Here is the trailer.

Wikipedia has this:

Lunacy, also known as Sílení is a 2005 film by Jan Švankmajer. The film is loosely based on two short stories by Edgar Allan Poe and inspired by the works of the Marquis de Sade.

And here is a sample of Švankmajer’s sculptural work:

Beethoven by Arcimboldo (1993) – Jan Švankmajer
image sourced here.

Aug 2006 update: The Evening Class has two excellent posts: one with YouTube footage here and one on Lunacy here.

I love moss

Detail of a photograph of some mossy stones, at Kylen, nr. Osby.

Detail of a photograph of mossy fallen branches, at Kylen, nr. Osby.

I love moss, my daughters know this well. Il Giornale Nuovo posted some photos of mossy trunks of which he writes:

Unlike the woods around Aickman’s Kurhus, these were clearly seldom traversed, being crossed here and there by old, low stone walls, by felled, mossy trunks, or blocked with thickets. Even so, it wasn’t hard for me to feel a faint something of that transcendence he hints at, as I stopped to admire a sunlit clearing after squeezing through mushroomy, spiderwebbed undergrowth.

I also love ferns. When I was reading Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard a couple of weeks ago I learned that if you burn the fronds of ferns and dissolve its ashes in water and let that water evaporate, you get a pattern of ferns at the bottom of the glass. I picked some ferns three weeks ago and burnt them two weeks ago. The water is evaporating but it is still too early to say whether the experiment will succeed.

To round this post off, an illustration of mosses by Ernst Haeckel:

Muscinae from Ernst Haeckel’s Kunstformen der Natur (Artforms of Nature) of 1904.