Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.3.04
Daniel Torras i Segura
{"title":"Audiovisual Silence: A Lever for Narrative Change and Transition","authors":"Daniel Torras i Segura","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.3.04","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.3.04","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"43 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"136206391","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.3.01
Cynthia Baron
tanya silverman's “Automotive Associations in Post–New Wave Films by Czech Directors” examines the rich connotations that cars convey to generate a timely account of work by four significant Czech directors: Jiří Menzel (1938–2020) and Věra Chytilová (1929–2014), who worked exclusively in their home country, and Miloš Forman (1932–2018) and Ivan Passer (1933–2020), who exiled themselves following the Soviet invasion in 1968. In “Facing the End of the World: Take Shelter as Horror Ecocinema,” Katarzyna Paszkiewicz advances scholarship in the areas of genre studies, audience reception, and cultural engagement with climate change, through research that deftly integrates multiple threads of inquiry with nuanced analysis of visual and narrative elements in Jeff Nichols's 2011 acclaimed independent film. In “Audiovisual Silence: A Lever for Narrative Change and Transition,” Daniel Torras i Segura offers valuable insights for both scholars and practitioners in his ample illustration of why and how silence so often facilitates transitions or variations between scenes and effectively signals change within and between scenes. In “Documentary Film and the Flint Water Crisis: Incorporating the Sociological Imagination,” Cedric Taylor places documentary work in a new light through his thoughtful analysis of how public sociology principles grounded his approach to making Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis (2018) and to sharing it as an open-access resource.
{"title":"Editor's Introduction","authors":"Cynthia Baron","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.3.01","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.3.01","url":null,"abstract":"tanya silverman's “Automotive Associations in Post–New Wave Films by Czech Directors” examines the rich connotations that cars convey to generate a timely account of work by four significant Czech directors: Jiří Menzel (1938–2020) and Věra Chytilová (1929–2014), who worked exclusively in their home country, and Miloš Forman (1932–2018) and Ivan Passer (1933–2020), who exiled themselves following the Soviet invasion in 1968. In “Facing the End of the World: Take Shelter as Horror Ecocinema,” Katarzyna Paszkiewicz advances scholarship in the areas of genre studies, audience reception, and cultural engagement with climate change, through research that deftly integrates multiple threads of inquiry with nuanced analysis of visual and narrative elements in Jeff Nichols's 2011 acclaimed independent film. In “Audiovisual Silence: A Lever for Narrative Change and Transition,” Daniel Torras i Segura offers valuable insights for both scholars and practitioners in his ample illustration of why and how silence so often facilitates transitions or variations between scenes and effectively signals change within and between scenes. In “Documentary Film and the Flint Water Crisis: Incorporating the Sociological Imagination,” Cedric Taylor places documentary work in a new light through his thoughtful analysis of how public sociology principles grounded his approach to making Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis (2018) and to sharing it as an open-access resource.","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"39 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"136206377","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.3.03
Katarzyna Paszkiewicz
in one of the most dramatic scenes in Jeff Nichols's Take Shelter (2011), a film about a construction worker who begins to have nightmares involving an impending storm, the protagonist angrily turns over a table during a community gathering and unleashes a dreadful prophecy: “There is a storm comin’ like nothing you have ever seen. And not a one of you is prepared for it . . . . Sleep well in your beds. ’Cause if this thing comes true, there ain't gonna be any more.” For E. Ann Kaplan, who analyzed Take Shelter in her 2015 study of “climate trauma” in dystopian film and fiction, the protagonist is traumatized by something that has not yet taken place, and in this respect, she argues, he embodies “the cultural unconscious about global warming” (41). Since then, Take Shelter has often been discussed as part of the “cautionary tales around climate change” (Brereton 157) and what has been dubbed “cli-fi” (Craps 81), a category of films, novels, and other cultural forms whose dystopian scenarios are said to convey our increasing anxiety about the disastrous effects of the anthropogenic impact on the planet (Leikam and Leyda; Weik von Mossner).Take Shelter seems to adhere to the well-known narrative of a male hero struggling to protect his family from the planetary-scale catastrophe—what Joanna Zylinska calls, in reference to the apocalyptic visions of the Anthropocene, “the Armageddon for the White Man” (38). However, the film's consistent engagement with the conventions of the horror genre opens up space for unpacking heroic action and male anxiety in “end of the world” scenarios in new ways. For Agnes Woolley, Nichols's film dramatizes “the imaginative impasse often engendered by the environmental crisis” and suggests “alternative ways of knowing our environment to the empirical modes within which contemporary discourses of climate change tend to operate” (176). Toward the end of her article, Woolley briefly points to the film's generic instability, suggesting that even though Take Shelter does not directly belong to ecocinema, it may be read as such, because it helps “to reorient the way we view nature by attending to its materiality and determining power through the populist codes of conventional cinema” (189).Taking Woolley's observation as a starting point, an observation that reveals her somewhat ambivalent attitude toward what she sees as “the populist codes of conventional cinema,” this article provides a more detailed examination of genre to contend that the conventions of the horror film play a crucial role in Take Shelter's ecological attentiveness. In this sense, my central argument is that the film can be understood as what I dub here “horror ecocinema,” bringing together both the scholarship on ecocinema (MacDonald; Willoquet-Maricondi) and horror studies (Creed; Shaviro; Aldana Reyes). While at first glance Take Shelter would seem to elude simple classification as an eco-film or a horror film, I show how it compellingly addresses press
{"title":"Facing the End of the World: <i>Take Shelter</i> as Horror Ecocinema","authors":"Katarzyna Paszkiewicz","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.3.03","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.3.03","url":null,"abstract":"in one of the most dramatic scenes in Jeff Nichols's Take Shelter (2011), a film about a construction worker who begins to have nightmares involving an impending storm, the protagonist angrily turns over a table during a community gathering and unleashes a dreadful prophecy: “There is a storm comin’ like nothing you have ever seen. And not a one of you is prepared for it . . . . Sleep well in your beds. ’Cause if this thing comes true, there ain't gonna be any more.” For E. Ann Kaplan, who analyzed Take Shelter in her 2015 study of “climate trauma” in dystopian film and fiction, the protagonist is traumatized by something that has not yet taken place, and in this respect, she argues, he embodies “the cultural unconscious about global warming” (41). Since then, Take Shelter has often been discussed as part of the “cautionary tales around climate change” (Brereton 157) and what has been dubbed “cli-fi” (Craps 81), a category of films, novels, and other cultural forms whose dystopian scenarios are said to convey our increasing anxiety about the disastrous effects of the anthropogenic impact on the planet (Leikam and Leyda; Weik von Mossner).Take Shelter seems to adhere to the well-known narrative of a male hero struggling to protect his family from the planetary-scale catastrophe—what Joanna Zylinska calls, in reference to the apocalyptic visions of the Anthropocene, “the Armageddon for the White Man” (38). However, the film's consistent engagement with the conventions of the horror genre opens up space for unpacking heroic action and male anxiety in “end of the world” scenarios in new ways. For Agnes Woolley, Nichols's film dramatizes “the imaginative impasse often engendered by the environmental crisis” and suggests “alternative ways of knowing our environment to the empirical modes within which contemporary discourses of climate change tend to operate” (176). Toward the end of her article, Woolley briefly points to the film's generic instability, suggesting that even though Take Shelter does not directly belong to ecocinema, it may be read as such, because it helps “to reorient the way we view nature by attending to its materiality and determining power through the populist codes of conventional cinema” (189).Taking Woolley's observation as a starting point, an observation that reveals her somewhat ambivalent attitude toward what she sees as “the populist codes of conventional cinema,” this article provides a more detailed examination of genre to contend that the conventions of the horror film play a crucial role in Take Shelter's ecological attentiveness. In this sense, my central argument is that the film can be understood as what I dub here “horror ecocinema,” bringing together both the scholarship on ecocinema (MacDonald; Willoquet-Maricondi) and horror studies (Creed; Shaviro; Aldana Reyes). While at first glance Take Shelter would seem to elude simple classification as an eco-film or a horror film, I show how it compellingly addresses press","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"34 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"136206394","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.3.02
Tanya Silverman
from the release of political satires and psychedelic experiments to the receival of its first Academy Awards, Czechoslovakia in the 1960s gained international recognition as a wellspring of cinema from its end of the Iron Curtain. The Czech New Wave movement that coincided with the liberalized era of communism saw the beginnings of many local directors’ fruitful careers. Although the political repercussions of the 1968 Soviet invasion would terminate the New Wave, inhibit the possibilities for directors, and prompt several of them to immigrate to the West, the grave consequences could not curtail their creative drives. Some, such as Jiří Menzel (1938–2020) and Věra Chytilová (1929–2014), stayed to endure the repressive normalization period that ensued, while others, such as Miloš Forman (1932–2018) and Ivan Passer (1933–2020), moved to the United States to continue their careers. All four directors studied at the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague, also known as FAMU, and played prominent roles in the New Wave before continuing to make films from the 1970s into the 2000s. But beyond their initial commonalities, how is it possible to read their extensive, transatlantic oeuvres? How did all four directors employ cinema to express their reactions to the societal environments in which they lived and worked after the 1960s? Moreover, what sorts of parallels exist between their arguably disparate films?To formulate a comparative understanding of the post–New Wave filmographies of Menzel, Chytilová, Forman, and Passer, this article focuses on a specific material motif: the car. Beyond its basic association with transportation, the automobile connotes innumerable factors about existence in modern civilization: position in society, standard of living, terrestrial mobility, and the pursuit of property. In Cold War circumstances, competition between the blocs involved not only grand ideologies in conjunction with government mechanisms, but also denizens’ ways of life, with car availability and ownership serving as a metric for systems’ economic production and consumer standards. Considering cars in filmic texts as indicative of auteurs’ attitudes, this article explores the automotive motif qua societal status, individualism, capability, and space. It interprets directors’ reactions toward stimuli in their host countries’ communities through the ways that vehicles in films exemplify characters’ hierarchical rankings, point to private ownership versus group interests, affect the environments of places, or function as instruments that enable (or hinder) people's actions. All four directors deal with the complexities surrounding the symbolism of individual car ownership as a marker of social ascent and personal success. They also associate their characters with select car models to depict people's experiences with “normal” life in their respective countries, from the middle class in America to communities in late-communist Czechoslo
从政治讽刺片和迷幻实验片的发行到第一次获得奥斯卡奖，20世纪60年代的捷克斯洛伐克在铁幕结束后获得了国际认可，成为电影的发源地。捷克新浪潮运动恰逢共产主义自由化时代，许多当地导演开始了富有成效的职业生涯。尽管1968年苏联入侵的政治影响终止了新浪潮，抑制了导演的可能性，并促使他们中的一些人移民到西方，但严重的后果并没有削弱他们的创作动力。一些人，如Jiří Menzel(1938-2020)和v<e:1> ra chytilov<e:1>(1929-2014)，留下来忍受随后的镇压正常化时期，而其他人，如米洛什·福尔曼(1932-2018)和伊万·帕瑟(1933-2020)，移居美国继续他们的职业生涯。这四位导演都曾就读于布拉格表演艺术学院影视学院(FAMU)，在20世纪70年代至21世纪初继续拍摄电影之前，在新浪潮中扮演了重要角色。但是，除了他们最初的共同点之外，如何才能读懂他们广泛的跨大西洋作品呢?这四位导演是如何运用电影来表达他们对20世纪60年代以后生活和工作的社会环境的反应的?此外，这两部截然不同的电影之间又有什么相似之处呢?为了对门泽尔、奇蒂洛夫<e:1>、福尔曼和帕瑟的后新浪潮电影作品进行比较理解，本文将重点放在一个特定的材料主题上:汽车。除了与交通工具的基本联系之外，汽车还蕴含着现代文明中存在的无数因素:社会地位、生活水平、地面流动性和对财产的追求。在冷战环境下，集团之间的竞争不仅涉及与政府机制相结合的宏大意识形态，还涉及居民的生活方式，汽车的可用性和所有权是衡量系统经济生产和消费标准的指标。考虑到电影文本中的汽车是导演态度的象征，本文探讨了汽车作为社会地位、个人主义、能力和空间的主题。它解释了导演对东道国社区刺激的反应，通过电影中的交通工具来举例说明人物的等级排名，指出私人所有权与群体利益，影响地方环境，或作为促进(或阻碍)人们行动的工具。四位导演都探讨了个人拥有汽车作为社会地位上升和个人成功标志的复杂象征意义。他们还将自己的角色与选定的汽车模型联系在一起，以描绘人们在各自国家的“正常”生活经历，从美国的中产阶级到共产主义后期的捷克斯洛伐克社区。本文通过讨论汽车如何在他们的个人电影作品中发挥作用，然后提供考虑跨文化因素的比较评价，来研究四位电影制片人的后新浪潮职业生涯。该分析采用了后结构主义的导演理论，该理论认为，尽管无数的个性和因素影响着电影的制作，但最终是导演支配着艺术作品——这一原则尊重弗朗索瓦·特吕弗的基本前提，即将导演视为产品的主要创造者(Braudy and Cohen 156)。正如David Bordwell所说，“关于文本来源作者的假设是很难避免的……自中世纪释经以来，auctor, auctoritas, authenticus这一系列术语不可避免地将作者，权威和真实性联系在一起。导演理论在20世纪70年代通过后结构主义思想发展起来，它提出没有任何一种理论完全足以处理文本，而是强调理论的多样性和“围绕文本和文本内部的所有相关话语(口头和非口头)”，更不用说历史和文化背景了(Hayward 35-39)。本文充分承认捷克导演从文学中汲取灵感，并与不同地区和政治秩序的各类人员合作，阐述了导演作为回应不断变化的时空环境的社会评论员的角色。在他们的后新浪潮电影中，导演们在评论系统承诺与经验现实之间的不一致，以及人们如何回应他们在社会等级中的地位时，把汽车放在了重要的位置。作为捷克斯洛伐克新浪潮中最年轻的成员，Jiří门泽尔在FAMU与v<e:1> ra chytilov<e:1>在同一个班级学习。 Oldřich继续努力地迁就他好奇的儿子，无视他厚脸皮的女儿，但这并没有阻止她向前倾身子贬低他:“你说过没有特拉班特会超过你，爸爸。”由压缩棉花和玻璃纤维制成的——被视为社会主义落后的体现——东德的特拉班特在柏林墙倒塌后几乎没有继续生产(Berdahl 131-32)。在这个场景中，东方集团汽车品牌的最低点成为了讽刺的对象。尽管族长努力在他的家庭单位中建立一个愉快的秩序，但一个劣等的车型超过了他自己的。在门泽尔的作品《雪花花节》(Slavnosti sněženek, 1984)中，这种被嘲笑的“赛车纸板”再次作为关键道具出现在门泽尔的作品中。当两个角色在路边修理一辆坏掉的汽车时，司机听着他热情洋溢的朋友讲故事，这位朋友自称是特拉班特的“专家”。当他把他的特拉班特车开进沟里，或者在车里敲了200个鸡蛋，使它的臭味变得更糟时，这位兼乘客兼机械助理就会吹嘘他那辆有弹性的特拉班特车的可靠性。门泽尔生活在一个以消除阶级和物质差异为信条的社会中，他似乎注意到了系统性的失误，并在情境叙事中呈现出讽刺的观察。而《谁在找金子?》反对对公共利益的投资，雪花莲节承认汽车在常态化的日常存在中的常态，并在一个被认为是平等的社会中对汽车车型的等级进行了调侃。《雪花花节》改编自哈拉语，围绕着一个村庄展开，而《森林附近的隐居》则讽刺了正常化时代的俗套，在这种俗套中，布拉格人通过购买另一处住所——也就是chalupa(小屋)或chata(小屋)——来寻求乡村的庇护，将其作为一个空间，回归到原子化的私人生活中。然而，当城市人物在认为老农民的房主将会死去或搬走的印象下搬进老农民的住宅时，田园式的隔离就无法实现。相反，它们留在了现场。使社会困境进一步加剧的事实是，农村居民利用了租户使用四轮汽车的便利。Oldřich为他七十多岁的房东Komárek(约瑟夫·凯姆尔饰)提供帮助，以至于惹恼了vuzra以示抗议。在vuzra不在的一天早上，Komárek叫醒了Oldřich和他来访的同伴，邀请他们参加Ouměřic-a的社区宴会，几乎不加掩饰地请求搭车。Komárek向Ouměřic的宴会嘉宾介绍他的“布拉格人”。随着一位老人的嘲笑，轻蔑被放大了，这位老人很快被发现是Komárek 92岁的父亲，他指着并嘲笑来自首都的天真的客人。尽管是司机，Oldřich并没有因为他的个人移动能力而受到尊重，而是因为他容易被操纵而受到嘲笑。这种寻求隐居的现象成为笑话的素材，讲的是开着车的城里人是如何被简单而有策略的农村人欺骗的。在门泽尔的《我甜蜜的小村庄》(维斯尼<s:1>科姆<e:1> středisková， 1985)中，镇上的医生拥有一辆破旧的旧车，他一直依靠当地的卡车司机Pávek (Marián Labuda饰)来帮助启动。医生独自骑马到波西米亚的乡间，一边背诵怀旧的诗歌，这种消遣方式在不同的场合被删减了——比如，当他自己开车驶离公路，或者当他凝视着远处的山丘时，没有注意到他的车在滚动。这些咸菜需要Pávek和他的乘客Otík (János Bán)前来救援。在影片的结尾，这位医生滑稽而随意的拥有汽车的风格只会加速。就在他向Pávek和Otík展示了他闪亮的新红色Škoda之后，他立即将其撞向大门。这样的交通工具似乎意味着能力的提升，但在这部电影中，它强调了医生特有的笨拙。门泽尔对汽车操作员的戏谑嘲弄与导演对谦逊和不做作的野心的既定喜好不谋而合。这些人物的建构也与门泽尔表达的捷克民族性格不好战、“渺小而不英勇”的看法有关(Vid
{"title":"Automotive Associations in Post–New Wave Films by Czech Directors","authors":"Tanya Silverman","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.3.02","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.3.02","url":null,"abstract":"from the release of political satires and psychedelic experiments to the receival of its first Academy Awards, Czechoslovakia in the 1960s gained international recognition as a wellspring of cinema from its end of the Iron Curtain. The Czech New Wave movement that coincided with the liberalized era of communism saw the beginnings of many local directors’ fruitful careers. Although the political repercussions of the 1968 Soviet invasion would terminate the New Wave, inhibit the possibilities for directors, and prompt several of them to immigrate to the West, the grave consequences could not curtail their creative drives. Some, such as Jiří Menzel (1938–2020) and Věra Chytilová (1929–2014), stayed to endure the repressive normalization period that ensued, while others, such as Miloš Forman (1932–2018) and Ivan Passer (1933–2020), moved to the United States to continue their careers. All four directors studied at the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague, also known as FAMU, and played prominent roles in the New Wave before continuing to make films from the 1970s into the 2000s. But beyond their initial commonalities, how is it possible to read their extensive, transatlantic oeuvres? How did all four directors employ cinema to express their reactions to the societal environments in which they lived and worked after the 1960s? Moreover, what sorts of parallels exist between their arguably disparate films?To formulate a comparative understanding of the post–New Wave filmographies of Menzel, Chytilová, Forman, and Passer, this article focuses on a specific material motif: the car. Beyond its basic association with transportation, the automobile connotes innumerable factors about existence in modern civilization: position in society, standard of living, terrestrial mobility, and the pursuit of property. In Cold War circumstances, competition between the blocs involved not only grand ideologies in conjunction with government mechanisms, but also denizens’ ways of life, with car availability and ownership serving as a metric for systems’ economic production and consumer standards. Considering cars in filmic texts as indicative of auteurs’ attitudes, this article explores the automotive motif qua societal status, individualism, capability, and space. It interprets directors’ reactions toward stimuli in their host countries’ communities through the ways that vehicles in films exemplify characters’ hierarchical rankings, point to private ownership versus group interests, affect the environments of places, or function as instruments that enable (or hinder) people's actions. All four directors deal with the complexities surrounding the symbolism of individual car ownership as a marker of social ascent and personal success. They also associate their characters with select car models to depict people's experiences with “normal” life in their respective countries, from the middle class in America to communities in late-communist Czechoslo","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"48 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"136206378","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-10-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.3.05
Cedric Taylor
nor any drop to drink: flint's water crisis (2018) focuses on the ongoing water crisis in Flint, Michigan. As a cost-cutting measure, in 2014, the state switched Flint's water supply to the heavily polluted Flint River. Almost immediately, residents complained of the water's color, taste, and smell. Over the course of many months, they expressed concerns about rashes, hair and tooth loss, miscarriage, childhood developmental problems, and Legionnaire's disease. Belatedly, officials admitted that the water was contaminated. On January 2, 2016, the state of Michigan declared a state of emergency, which was followed by a federal state of emergency on January 16, 2016. As the crisis unfolded, the public was inundated with media images of protests, lead testing for children, and crowded water distribution sites. Today, Flint has largely dropped out of the headlines. However, the horrors faced by many residents remain. Punctuated by interviews that document the experiences of ordinary residents, Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis sheds light on how the failure of government and economic policy created the Flint water crisis. The film seeks to better understand why today in Flint, a city in the Great Lakes State, there is neither trust in governmental institutions nor any drop to drink.The film, which was my first foray into documentary filmmaking, was a collaboration with other faculty and staff at Central Michigan University. Daniel Bracken, one of the film's producers, had previously served as a producer at WCMU public television and produced eight episodes of the award-winning documentary series America from the Ground Up (2014–18). Eric Limarenko, associate professor in the School of Broadcast and Cinematic Arts, served as both producer and editor for the film. Donald Blubaugh, a student at Central Michigan University who would go on to work on the Discovery Channel's The Incredible Dr. Pol (2011–present), served as coproducer and as a camera operator for the documentary.Since its release in 2018, Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis has been screened across the United States and internationally in a variety of venues1 and has served as a launching point for difficult but important conversations about the true nature of American society.2 The film's open-access status3 represents a continued commitment to facilitating those critical conversations across diverse communities and among activists, educators, scientists, engineers, and all those who care deeply about social and environmental justice. During Q&A sessions that follow the screenings, I am invariably asked, primarily by fellow social scientists, “Why did you choose to make a film?” There is the precedent of anthropologists and sociologists utilizing documentary film as a research tool (Harris 63). However, many colleagues see my filmmaking as an educational and creative endeavor but not a traditional vehicle for sociological work. My responses to such queries and perceptions
也没有一滴水可以喝:弗林特的水危机(2018)关注的是密歇根州弗林特市正在发生的水危机。作为一项削减成本的措施，2014年，该州将弗林特的供水改为污染严重的弗林特河。居民们几乎立刻就开始抱怨水的颜色、味道和气味。在几个月的时间里，他们表达了对皮疹、脱发和牙齿脱落、流产、儿童发育问题和军团病的担忧。官员们后来才承认水受到了污染。2016年1月2日，密歇根州宣布进入紧急状态，随后于2016年1月16日宣布进入联邦紧急状态。随着危机的展开，公众被媒体铺天盖地的抗议、儿童铅检测和拥挤的供水站的图片所淹没。如今，弗林特基本上已经退出了新闻头条。然而，许多居民面临的恐惧仍然存在。《一滴也喝不了:弗林特的水危机》一书中穿插了对普通居民的采访，揭示了政府和经济政策的失败是如何造成弗林特水危机的。这部电影试图更好地理解为什么今天在弗林特，一个五大湖州的城市，既没有对政府机构的信任，也没有一滴饮料。这部电影是我第一次尝试拍摄纪录片，是与中密歇根大学的其他教职员工合作拍摄的。该片制片人之一丹尼尔·布拉肯(Daniel Bracken)此前曾在WCMU公共电视台担任制片人，并制作了8集获奖纪录片《America from the Ground Up》(2014-18)。广播与电影艺术学院副教授埃里克·利马连科(Eric Limarenko)担任了这部电影的制片人和剪辑师。唐纳德·布卢博(Donald Blubaugh)是中密歇根大学(Central Michigan University)的一名学生，后来参与了探索频道(Discovery Channel)的《不可思议的波尔博士》(2011年至今)，他担任了这部纪录片的联合制片人和摄像师。自2018年上映以来，《一滴也不能喝:弗林特的水危机》已经在美国和国际上的各种场所进行了放映，并成为了关于美国社会真实本质的艰难但重要对话的起点这部电影的开放获取地位代表了一种持续的承诺，即促进不同社区之间以及活动家、教育家、科学家、工程师和所有深切关注社会和环境正义的人之间的批判性对话。在放映后的问答环节中，我总是被问，主要是社会科学家同行，“你为什么选择拍电影?”人类学家和社会学家利用纪录片作为研究工具是有先例的(Harris 63)。然而，许多同事认为我的电影制作是一种教育和创造性的努力，而不是社会学工作的传统工具。我对这些问题和看法的回答是，纪录片制作是面向公众的社会学的重要组成部分，我作为社会学家的身份与我作为纪录片制片人的工作并没有分开。事实上，社会学背景塑造了我作为这部纪录片的编剧、导演和联合制片人的角色。本文通过对纪录片制作如何作为一种公共社会学形式的分析，进一步阐述了这些回应。此外，它还强调了具体的社会学视角和方法如何丰富纪录片，揭示了历史背景与个人生活之间的深刻联系。本文的第一部分解释了纪录片作为公共社会学的一种形式对传统学术活动的背离。第二部分介绍社会学家c·赖特·米尔斯的社会学想象概念;这是“对个人经历与更广泛的社会之间关系的生动意识”(米尔斯1)。社会学想象力是一种能力，可以看到个人的经历(米尔斯称之为“传记”)是如何被更大的社会背景(他称之为“历史”)所塑造或与之相互联系的(米尔斯6)。第二部分进一步解释了社会学想象力是如何塑造我在制作电影时的贡献的主题在全球化，新自由主义和种族主义的更广泛的背景下。在第三部分中，我讨论了解释性方法如何补充社会学想象力的使用，以欣赏个人如何在更大的社会背景下理解和驾驭他们的经历。本节讨论了如何使用解释方法中的技术，如照片引出，来理解弗林特居民的主观经验和观点。 当我获得终身教职并晋升为副教授时，我一直在与一种与广大公众的需求和关注脱节的感觉作斗争。我相信，社会学这门学科可以为社会上最紧迫的社会问题带来宝贵的见解，即使不能彻底改变世界，也有可能改革世界。然而，这些见解有多容易理解呢?社会学家从事的是对公众真正重要的工作，还是太多的人从事深奥的工作?这些问题把我推向了一个更面向公众的社会学，弥合了迈克尔·伯拉维(Michael Burawoy)所说的社会学精神(价值观、态度和信仰是社会学学科的核心)和“我们研究的世界”之间日益扩大的鸿沟。向公共社会学的转变意味着结合社会学的想象力来强调不平等对真实的个人、家庭和社区的影响。重要的是，它还意味着确定环境不公正的根源并制定有效的解决办法。环境正义涉及所有人在环境法律、法规和政策的制定、实施和执行方面的公平对待和有意义的参与，无论其种族、肤色、国籍或收入如何。这一定义承认，边缘化社区和弱势群体往往承受着不成比例的环境危害负担，例如污染、毒素和其他环境健康风险。当美国新闻媒体开始持续报道弗林特水危机时，很明显环境不公正已经发生了。弗林特居民从来没有参与过最终会使他们的社区暴露在受污染的水中的决定。此外，当居民要求采取行动时，各级政府都不屑一顾，行动迟缓(密歇根州，弗林特水咨询工作组最终报告4-8)。当媒体最终开始注意到这场危机时，最初很少有人质疑官方和专家关于水是安全的声明(杰克逊)。在最近记忆中最悲惨的公共卫生灾难之一的前线，弗林特居民从一开始就被忽视，在整个危机中都没有发言权。他们的环境和健康被资本和财政权宜之计所牺牲。尽管弗林特地区以外的一些媒体头条暗示了该市改用弗林特河作为水源后的水质问题和担忧，但没有对弗林特水危机产生的背景进行重大审查。随着这些事件的展开，很明显，面向公众的社会学应该超越肤浅的评估，阐明水危机背后的背景。出于几个原因，纪录片是关注弗林特水危机的公共社会学的理想载体。首先，纪录片为长期被边缘化的群体提供了一个平台，这些群体的声音被排除在主流媒体和公共话语之外。关于弗林特社区，关于水危机的性质和原因的主流叙述可能会受到挑战。其次，地理位置和社会距离较远的公众可以获得信息，以促进围绕水危机的性质、原因和后果进行更细致和更有见地的讨论，并在此过程中建立共鸣的桥梁(Billings 5)。第三，利用社会学想象力的纪录片可以推翻关于水危机的肤浅但占主导地位的叙述，并为变革行动提供动力和平台(Bacha)。因此，关于水危机的纪录片可以作为一种参与和参与的手段，社区领导人、活动家、政策制定者和其他利益攸关方可以围绕危机的原因展开对话，并采取集体行动。像许多其他社会问题纪录片一样，《一滴也不能喝:弗林特的水危机》利用个人故事来引起对手头上的人和问题的同情和/或情感联系。本节将介绍其中的三个故事。然而，融入主体故事也是运用社会学想象力的必要组成部分。本节将讨论在讲述一个更完整的故事的过程中，如何将个人故事与更广泛的社会问题联系起来。纪录片开头的三分钟传达了事件如何深刻地塑造了居民与水的关系。观众看到影片的主角伦德拉·布朗(Lendra Brown)在厨房里用微波炉加热塑料瓶装水，然后进入一间狭窄的浴室。老妇人笨拙地在一个小水池前徘徊，用温暖的瓶装水擦拭她的脸、手臂、躯干和腿。 影片中没有对白或旁白，但可以听到一条破旧的毛巾擦着她脱落的、有瑕疵的皮肤的声音。这个场景只有三分钟;然而，对于观众来说，这感觉就像永恒。当伦德拉发现她没有足够的水洗完澡时，单调的生活被打破了，她叫侄女用微波炉加热，再拿一些温暖的瓶装水来。在接下来的场景中，伦德拉在她的客厅里，用泡沫塑料碗准备自制的矿
{"title":"Documentary Film and the Flint Water Crisis: Incorporating the Sociological Imagination","authors":"Cedric Taylor","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.3.05","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.3.05","url":null,"abstract":"nor any drop to drink: flint's water crisis (2018) focuses on the ongoing water crisis in Flint, Michigan. As a cost-cutting measure, in 2014, the state switched Flint's water supply to the heavily polluted Flint River. Almost immediately, residents complained of the water's color, taste, and smell. Over the course of many months, they expressed concerns about rashes, hair and tooth loss, miscarriage, childhood developmental problems, and Legionnaire's disease. Belatedly, officials admitted that the water was contaminated. On January 2, 2016, the state of Michigan declared a state of emergency, which was followed by a federal state of emergency on January 16, 2016. As the crisis unfolded, the public was inundated with media images of protests, lead testing for children, and crowded water distribution sites. Today, Flint has largely dropped out of the headlines. However, the horrors faced by many residents remain. Punctuated by interviews that document the experiences of ordinary residents, Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis sheds light on how the failure of government and economic policy created the Flint water crisis. The film seeks to better understand why today in Flint, a city in the Great Lakes State, there is neither trust in governmental institutions nor any drop to drink.The film, which was my first foray into documentary filmmaking, was a collaboration with other faculty and staff at Central Michigan University. Daniel Bracken, one of the film's producers, had previously served as a producer at WCMU public television and produced eight episodes of the award-winning documentary series America from the Ground Up (2014–18). Eric Limarenko, associate professor in the School of Broadcast and Cinematic Arts, served as both producer and editor for the film. Donald Blubaugh, a student at Central Michigan University who would go on to work on the Discovery Channel's The Incredible Dr. Pol (2011–present), served as coproducer and as a camera operator for the documentary.Since its release in 2018, Nor Any Drop to Drink: Flint's Water Crisis has been screened across the United States and internationally in a variety of venues1 and has served as a launching point for difficult but important conversations about the true nature of American society.2 The film's open-access status3 represents a continued commitment to facilitating those critical conversations across diverse communities and among activists, educators, scientists, engineers, and all those who care deeply about social and environmental justice. During Q&A sessions that follow the screenings, I am invariably asked, primarily by fellow social scientists, “Why did you choose to make a film?” There is the precedent of anthropologists and sociologists utilizing documentary film as a research tool (Harris 63). However, many colleagues see my filmmaking as an educational and creative endeavor but not a traditional vehicle for sociological work. My responses to such queries and perceptions","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"70 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"136206376","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-07-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.2.03
N. Archer
“there shoulD Be a Cull on Posh aCtors.” This is an idea put forward by the English actor Steve Coogan, or to be more accurate, “Steve”: the fictionalized version of himself that he plays in Michael Winterbottom’s television series The Trip to Spain (Sky Atlantic 2017). Steve is listing, grudgingly, the number of old Etonians—former pupils of the exclusive and ancient English private school— taking lead roles in British and Hollywood film and television. Steve’s list includes actors such as Eddie Redmayne, Damien Lewis, and Tom Hiddleston and could also include, among others, Hugh Laurie and Dominic West. (Another British A-lister, Benedict Cumberbatch, attended Eton’s rival school, Harrow.) At a later point in the same series, Steve, speaking on the phone to his agent, rails against the idea that some other actor might take the role in a new film he has written for himself: for example, “Tom Hoddleston [sic]” or, as Steve then puts it, “some other posh twat.” While this outburst is technically coming from Steve, Coogan himself offers similar opinions in his 2015 autobiography, Easily Distracted. Here, one finds frequent references to the types of actors from whom Coogan distinguishes himself and whom he also perceives as having an unfair advantage in the screen-acting marketplace. Early on in his career, Coogan tells us, he came “into contact with an endless stream of people who were uber-confident and educated at Britain’s finest universities,” while Coogan himself was a “kid from a Manchester suburb who had failed English O-level not once, but twice” (18). Coogan’s self-narrative paints a picture of failed access to prestigious London drama schools such as the Central School of Speech and Drama and the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, both breeding grounds for future stage and screen stars. Although he secured a place in the theater course at what was then Manchester Polytechnic (now Manchester Metropolitan University), Coogan still claims to have been out of place, given that he did not “know anyone at the BBC,” and adds that he had not “been to fucking finishing school” but was “state-educated” (238–39). Despite this apparent adversity, Coogan has gone on to achieve household-name status in the UK and a degree of international celebrity as a movie actor, starring in films such as Around the World in 80 Days (Frank Coraci, 2004), Tropic Thunder (Ben Stiller, 2008), and, in his recent critically praised turn as Stan Laurel, Stan and Ollie (Jon S. Baird, 2018). Like the latter film, his various collaborations elsewhere with Michael Winterbottom have been characterized by performances of real-life figures: from Factory Records founder Tony Wilson in 24 Hour Party People (2002) to London erotica The Paradox of Steve Coogan: Performing Class in British Film Acting
{"title":"The Paradox of Steve Coogan: Performing Class in British Film Acting","authors":"N. Archer","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.2.03","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.2.03","url":null,"abstract":"“there shoulD Be a Cull on Posh aCtors.” This is an idea put forward by the English actor Steve Coogan, or to be more accurate, “Steve”: the fictionalized version of himself that he plays in Michael Winterbottom’s television series The Trip to Spain (Sky Atlantic 2017). Steve is listing, grudgingly, the number of old Etonians—former pupils of the exclusive and ancient English private school— taking lead roles in British and Hollywood film and television. Steve’s list includes actors such as Eddie Redmayne, Damien Lewis, and Tom Hiddleston and could also include, among others, Hugh Laurie and Dominic West. (Another British A-lister, Benedict Cumberbatch, attended Eton’s rival school, Harrow.) At a later point in the same series, Steve, speaking on the phone to his agent, rails against the idea that some other actor might take the role in a new film he has written for himself: for example, “Tom Hoddleston [sic]” or, as Steve then puts it, “some other posh twat.” While this outburst is technically coming from Steve, Coogan himself offers similar opinions in his 2015 autobiography, Easily Distracted. Here, one finds frequent references to the types of actors from whom Coogan distinguishes himself and whom he also perceives as having an unfair advantage in the screen-acting marketplace. Early on in his career, Coogan tells us, he came “into contact with an endless stream of people who were uber-confident and educated at Britain’s finest universities,” while Coogan himself was a “kid from a Manchester suburb who had failed English O-level not once, but twice” (18). Coogan’s self-narrative paints a picture of failed access to prestigious London drama schools such as the Central School of Speech and Drama and the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, both breeding grounds for future stage and screen stars. Although he secured a place in the theater course at what was then Manchester Polytechnic (now Manchester Metropolitan University), Coogan still claims to have been out of place, given that he did not “know anyone at the BBC,” and adds that he had not “been to fucking finishing school” but was “state-educated” (238–39). Despite this apparent adversity, Coogan has gone on to achieve household-name status in the UK and a degree of international celebrity as a movie actor, starring in films such as Around the World in 80 Days (Frank Coraci, 2004), Tropic Thunder (Ben Stiller, 2008), and, in his recent critically praised turn as Stan Laurel, Stan and Ollie (Jon S. Baird, 2018). Like the latter film, his various collaborations elsewhere with Michael Winterbottom have been characterized by performances of real-life figures: from Factory Records founder Tony Wilson in 24 Hour Party People (2002) to London erotica The Paradox of Steve Coogan: Performing Class in British Film Acting","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"75 1","pages":"18 - 29"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2023-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45489578","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-07-01DOI: 10.5406/19346018.75.2.01
C. Baron
{"title":"Editor’s Introduction","authors":"C. Baron","doi":"10.5406/19346018.75.2.01","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5406/19346018.75.2.01","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":43116,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF FILM AND VIDEO","volume":"75 1","pages":"3 - 3"},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2023-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45031235","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：