{"title":"New realism: contemporary British cinema","authors":"N. Morris","doi":"10.1080/17411548.2022.2073769","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"symbolic for the entire crisis of white masculinity. Just like the white male protagonists of the films analysed in previous chapters, these ‘angry old men,’ having been abandoned by the malfunctioning or withdrawing modern state, feel that ‘the world has changed and is no longer accommodating, comfortable or home-like’ (250) for them. On the one hand, the films in this batch – Tyrannosaur (Paddy Considine, 2011), I, Daniel Blake (Ken Loach, 2016) and En man som heter Ove/A Man Called Ove (Hannes Holm, 2015) – still display potentially damaging aspects of masculinity, while also suggesting more productive channels of resentment and frustration – but only via women who are willing to help. In a talk about the book, Kalmár pointed to its cover. At first glance, a homogeneous reddish-brown, a solid colour taken for granted and unmarked by any possible meaning attribution; but if observed more carefully, it turns out that the cover mimics the rich, multilayered texture of a rusty piece of iron, a leftover of a decaying, post-industrial society, giving a complex and powerful metaphor for understanding the situation of white men in crisis. ‘This rust remains with us,’ Kalmár contended, referring to the fact that new solutions are still needed for coping with the new questions regarding white masculinity, but also hinting at the un-postness of the title’s ‘post-crisis’ expression. The crisis has just begun and we are by no means through it. Even though it seems like a permanent state now, we are just beginning to make sense of what this new episteme might entail for us. That is why Kalmár is hesitant to draw solid conclusions at the end of his work. Instead, he mentions a few trends in European culture and film that might be able to characterise this new world order, but none of them would suggest that it is possible to find final answers. According to Kalmár, post-crisis Europe is characterised by a hostility towards historical metanarratives, and closely related to it, he identifies a new wave of more informed heroism in films, and also as a response to the first claim, ‘a new tendency of post-crisis European films to turn their attention back to the European self’ (264). One thing is certain, though: intellectuals and professional readers of (European) culture are going to play a central role and have a huge responsibility in making sense of what Kalmár convincingly argues is indeed a new paradigm. For the sake of white men – and everyone else, too.","PeriodicalId":42089,"journal":{"name":"Studies in European Cinema","volume":"20 1","pages":"218 - 221"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2000,"publicationDate":"2022-05-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"2","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Studies in European Cinema","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.1080/17411548.2022.2073769","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"0","JCRName":"FILM, RADIO, TELEVISION","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 2
Abstract
symbolic for the entire crisis of white masculinity. Just like the white male protagonists of the films analysed in previous chapters, these ‘angry old men,’ having been abandoned by the malfunctioning or withdrawing modern state, feel that ‘the world has changed and is no longer accommodating, comfortable or home-like’ (250) for them. On the one hand, the films in this batch – Tyrannosaur (Paddy Considine, 2011), I, Daniel Blake (Ken Loach, 2016) and En man som heter Ove/A Man Called Ove (Hannes Holm, 2015) – still display potentially damaging aspects of masculinity, while also suggesting more productive channels of resentment and frustration – but only via women who are willing to help. In a talk about the book, Kalmár pointed to its cover. At first glance, a homogeneous reddish-brown, a solid colour taken for granted and unmarked by any possible meaning attribution; but if observed more carefully, it turns out that the cover mimics the rich, multilayered texture of a rusty piece of iron, a leftover of a decaying, post-industrial society, giving a complex and powerful metaphor for understanding the situation of white men in crisis. ‘This rust remains with us,’ Kalmár contended, referring to the fact that new solutions are still needed for coping with the new questions regarding white masculinity, but also hinting at the un-postness of the title’s ‘post-crisis’ expression. The crisis has just begun and we are by no means through it. Even though it seems like a permanent state now, we are just beginning to make sense of what this new episteme might entail for us. That is why Kalmár is hesitant to draw solid conclusions at the end of his work. Instead, he mentions a few trends in European culture and film that might be able to characterise this new world order, but none of them would suggest that it is possible to find final answers. According to Kalmár, post-crisis Europe is characterised by a hostility towards historical metanarratives, and closely related to it, he identifies a new wave of more informed heroism in films, and also as a response to the first claim, ‘a new tendency of post-crisis European films to turn their attention back to the European self’ (264). One thing is certain, though: intellectuals and professional readers of (European) culture are going to play a central role and have a huge responsibility in making sense of what Kalmár convincingly argues is indeed a new paradigm. For the sake of white men – and everyone else, too.