tag:theconversation.com,2011:/africa/topics/film-studies-25650/articlesFilm studies – The Conversation2020-04-05T20:04:26Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1349072020-04-05T20:04:26Z2020-04-05T20:04:26ZGreat time to try: 5½ ways to make movie masterpieces at home<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324822/original/file-20200402-23143-1civhql.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C1400%2C990&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Rear Window (1954)</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Being in isolation might be a great time to try something new. In <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/great-time-to-try-84901">this series</a>, we get the basics on hobbies and activities to start while you’re spending more time at home.</em> </p>
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<p>Isolation is a common theme in cinema: stranded on an island (<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0162222/">Cast Away</a>), in space (<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1454468/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Gravity</a> or <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3659388/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0">The Martian</a>), on a boat (<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0454876/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Life of Pi</a>), stuck in the desert (<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1542344/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">127 hours</a>), or simply confined to an apartment (<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047396/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0">Rear Window</a>). But what about when the filmmakers themselves are stranded?</p>
<p>Luckily, most of us are carrying sophisticated cameras in our pockets and have easy access to online film libraries and creative collaborators.</p>
<p>As <a href="https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199791286/obo-9780199791286-0052.xml">psychoanalytic approaches to filmmaking</a> reveal, our screens have a unique ability to see beyond reality. Our screens reach into the deepest depths of our desires, fantasies, and emotional landscapes. </p>
<p>Here are five approaches to filmmaking that can challenge our perception of the world, from the (dis)comfort of your own home:</p>
<h2>1. Video diary</h2>
<p>I’m not referring to the kind of YouTube vlogging that made <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/14/fashion/jenna-marbles.html">Jenna Marbles</a> a millionaire, nor the diary room confessional of Big Brother, but a visual rendition of expressive journal keeping. </p>
<p>Avant-garde filmmaker <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/news/postscript/my-debt-to-jonas-mekas">Jonas Mekas</a> pioneered the film diary in the 1960s by experimenting with the camera’s limits – incorrect exposure, disorderly movement, re-arranging time, and injecting a poetic voice. The challenge here is to portray your inner experience and not let the recording device simply “capture” it.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kzkzQExJ9rc?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Jonas Mekas – Always Beginning | TateShots.</span></figcaption>
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<p>If diaristic wanderings prove difficult, Gillian Leahy’s <a href="https://vimeo.com/ondemand/mylifewithoutsteve/179709856">My Life Without Steve</a> is a beautiful example of what can be achieved in a single apartment. The reflective narration from protagonist Liz guides us through emotional turmoil, memory, and theories of lost love. </p>
<p>Additionally, the meticulous still-life compositions by cinematographer Erika Addis, entirely restricted to the apartment space, offer an intimacy and familiarity beyond words: streetlights dancing on the water, a steaming kettle, floral wallpaper …</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324428/original/file-20200331-65495-zo0i7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Still image from My Life Without Steve (1986) directed by Gillian Leahy.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ronin Films</span></span>
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<h2>2. Location home</h2>
<p>Sometimes the location can be more significant than the person. This is certainly the case in films documenting imprisonment such as Berhouz Boochani’s experience of Manus Island detention centre in <a href="https://vimeo.com/230860000">Chauka, Please Tell Us The Time</a>, or Jafar Panahi’s discrete autobiography <a href="https://youtu.be/ajOgE_BPLVU">This Is Not A Film</a> recorded under house arrest in Iran. In 2015, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2415458/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Wolfpack</a> told the unusual tale of seven brothers confined to a New York apartment with Hollywood movies as their window onto the world. </p>
<p>Isolation offers an opportunity to interrogate the politics of home. The 1970s feminist movement gave rise to scathing critiques of gender-based domestic roles. Martha Rosler’s video art performance <a href="https://www.moma.org/collection/works/88937">Semiotics of the Kitchen</a> has inspired generations of classroom appropriations. The crude infomercial inspired performance undermine both the authority of the camera and the kitchen as a space of domination. </p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oDUDzSDA8q0?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Semiotics in the Kitchen (1975)</span></figcaption>
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<p>Chantal Akerman’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073198/">Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles</a>, also released in 1975, offers a less obvious subversion of domesticity. The protagonist is a single mother undertaking sex work as part of her daily routine to provide for her child. Rather than sensationalising prostitution, the camera respectfully captures the subtle gestures and emotions of the working mother.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ih3nBxjkBH8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.</span></figcaption>
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<h2>3. Online collaboration</h2>
<p>Collaborative media comes in many forms: participatory video, citizen media, user-generated and crowd-sourced content. </p>
<p>Collaborative approaches to filmmaking were pioneered by visual anthropologists attempting to accurately and ethically record foreign cultures. Handing the camera over was seen as a way to access insider knowledge. YouTube and Instagram could be considered large-scale collaborative media projects. More coherent and meaningful projects focus on a particular theme or creative parameter. </p>
<p>User-generated content (UGC) and fan-based creations have since become common to the genre, such as <a href="https://vimeo.com/15416762">The Johnny Cash Project</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/CB5ib4ouxes">Shrek Retold</a>, and <a href="https://vimeo.com/29174093">Man With A Movie Camera: The Global Remake</a>. </p>
<p>Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s <a href="https://hitrecord.org">HitRecord</a> is one of the most innovative UGC platforms with more than 750,000 contributors and the opportunity to get paid if the production makes money. By investing in personal contributions, the audience gains a sense of proprietorship over the project and boost distribution through their social networks.</p>
<p>The best examples of collaborative media are highly curated and elaborately produced. The National Film Board of Canada (NFB) and Katerina Cizek have produced a series of ambitious multimedia compilations under the <a href="http://highrise.nfb.ca">Highrise projects</a>. Of these projects, <a href="http://outmywindow.nfb.ca/#/outmywindow">Out My Window</a> is perhaps the most relevant to our current experience, featuring 13 participants from around the globe sharing personal stories from their highrise homes. </p>
<p>Collaborative media offers a multitude of voices to common themes and experiences. The trick to maintaining cohesion and continuity is to formulate detailed instructions for how to contribute.</p>
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<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/31376449" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Highrise / One Millionth Tower | National Film Board of Canada.</span></figcaption>
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<h2>4. Found footage</h2>
<p>Found footage documentaries are composed entirely from existing media. The recent surge in this genre such as <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt8760684/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0">Apollo 11</a>, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5433114/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Maradona</a>, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2870648/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2">Amy</a>, and <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7694570/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Final Quarter</a> about footballer Adam Goodes, all demonstrate that filmmakers need not touch a camera to produce a cinematic masterpiece. </p>
<p>While we may not individually be able to acquire rights to copyrighted material, most of us are unwittingly accumulating extensive media archives of our lives. The popular <a href="https://1se.co/">1 Second Everyday</a> app demonstrates how existing phone footage can be transformed into a revealing and enthralling sequence through rhythm-based montage.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lyx6O_WFJhU?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">1 Second Everyday.</span></figcaption>
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<h2>5. Machinima</h2>
<p><a href="https://voices.uchicago.edu/machinima/sample-page/">Machinima</a> (machine-cinema) is an innovative alternative to animation, in which detailed 3D graphics engines of computer games are used as cinematic stages. Most of the productions in this genre mimic mainstream comedy and action movies but there are a few examples of how the artform can interrogate our relationship to virtual worlds. </p>
<p>Nominated for the “Weird” category of the <a href="https://www.webbyawards.com/">Webby Awards</a> for online excellence, the narrator of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1tAmAFSc-YS63RrFMwkG0GuPVN70ku_G">Grand Theft Auto Pacifist</a> navigates the ultra-violent game world, understood as an extension of our lived society, in a hilarious experiment to see if he can exist peacefully.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nDRKbYNjRic?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Grand Theft Auto Pacifist.</span></figcaption>
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<p>But be warned, the first person I knew to go down the machinima path disappeared without a trace for two months, lost to the <a href="https://worldofwarcraft.com/en-gb/">World of Warcraft</a>.</p>
<h2>The ½ – since it’s not for everyone</h2>
<p>Lastly, my half recommendation. While not something I can recommend to students, during this difficult period of social distancing those of us fortunate enough to be isolated with loved ones might use the opportunity to master the elusive art of sexual desire … erotica. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=377&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=474&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=474&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/324476/original/file-20200401-66125-1puizri.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=474&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke in Nine ½ Weeks (1986)</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span>
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<p>Again, the camera need not be enslaved as a witness but can be recruited to explore the psychological and physical playing field of our desires.</p>
<p>And not all of your filmmaking need be shared around.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/134907/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Aaron Burton does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Budding filmmakers needn’t let isolation stand in the way of their cinematic dreams. Here are five and a half ways you can make movie magic at home.Aaron Burton, Lecturer in Media Arts, University of WollongongLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1222342019-08-28T14:41:23Z2019-08-28T14:41:23ZCan cinema survive in a golden age of serial TV?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289837/original/file-20190828-184240-156719n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/movie-theater-empty-auditorium-seats-364666118">Syda Productions/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>There are many reasons you might think cinema is going the way of the dinosaurs. With the popularity of long-play TV series booming, are films “too short” now to allow the kind of plot and character development that we have become used to? In our changing world of media, does the distinction between “TV series” and “film” even make sense?</p>
<p>In a recent class, when I asked my film studies students who had watched the set film for the week only a few hands went up – and my heart sank. Searching for an explanation, I asked who had watched the latest episode of the popular Netflix show <a href="https://theconversation.com/stranger-things-inventiveness-in-the-age-of-the-netflix-original-84340">Stranger Things</a>. Nearly every hand went up.</p>
<p>What does this anecdote reveal about changing viewing habits? Does the fact that even film students prefer the latest streaming series to the classic films set as coursework serve to illustrate the point that cinema is dying?</p>
<p>There is no doubt of the enormous appeal of the many long-form series readily available to subscribers of streamed content providers such as Netflix, Amazon Prime, HULU, iTunes, Google Play, and NowTV. Viewers can binge-watch or pace their way through their favourite show before algorithms point them to their next favourite show, in an endless addictive cycle of entertainment and sleep deprivation.</p>
<h2>Screen companions and virtual friends</h2>
<p>There are many reasons for the global popularity of streamed series. For one, their characters are often more diverse and interesting than many of those in mainstream Hollywood filmic fare. This is exemplified so well by shows such as <a href="http://theconversation.com/how-orange-is-the-new-black-raised-the-bar-behind-bars-78702">Orange is the New Black</a>, with a nearly all-female cast playing characters with diverse sexual orientations and ethnic and class backgrounds.</p>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=303&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=303&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=303&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=381&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=381&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289844/original/file-20190828-184202-1u5sjb6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=381&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">The cast of Orange is the New Black is bringing some diversity to our screens.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/download/confirm/1463461535?src=-1-4&size=huge_jpg">Editorial image/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Over the many hours of screen time, spanning many years in some cases, audiences become emotionally invested in characters’ stories. They become our screen companions and virtual friends. This has seen global fan bases emerge. These fans find kinship and a new kind of collective mourning when providers cancel their favourite show as seen with the devotees of the <a href="https://www.digitalspy.com/tv/ustv/a28618013/the-oa-fan-petition-season-3-axe/">The OA</a>. The size and influence of these groups has helped the success of campaigns like that of Sense8 fans, who fought for and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2017/jun/30/your-love-has-brought-sense8-back-to-life-cancelled-netflix-show-wins-two-hour-finale">won a finale</a> of their cancelled show. Similarly, <a href="https://themuse.jezebel.com/fans-saved-one-day-at-a-time-1835924491">the fans of One Day at a Time</a> helped it find its new home at cable network “Pop”. </p>
<p>The ultra long-play format of streamed series also allows time for extreme character development. The best known character evolution is perhaps that of Breaking Bad’s Walter White who makes a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdDfhe-0JS0">dramatic moral transformation</a> from school teacher to conflicted drug kingpin over the show’s 62-hour run-time.</p>
<h2>Hollywood cinema refuses to die</h2>
<p>But traditional Hollywood cinema refuses to die – as evidenced by the boom in <a href="https://theconversation.com/avengers-endgame-and-the-relentless-march-of-hollywood-franchise-movies-119130">franchise event cinema</a>. <a href="https://www.mpaa.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/MPAA-THEME-Report-2018.pdf">A recent report</a> from the Motion Picture Association of America reveals rising worldwide cinema ticket sales. The total takings at the box office topped US$41 billion – and the number of cinema screens worldwide increased by 7% (to 190,000 screens). The report states that “there is no question that in this ever complex world of media, theatres are vital to overall entertainment industry success”.</p>
<p>But cinema still has its place. It allows a fantasy-filled retreat for family and friend entertainment – an immersive experience without the distraction of mobile phones, knocks on the door or family members talking over important bits. Cinemas, film societies, or open-air screenings become spaces where we can put our political divisions aside and cheer collectively for heroes overcoming odds to save screen worlds.</p>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/289848/original/file-20190828-184192-1dcxpwh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/02-august-2018bucharest-romania-people-waiting-1148154302?src=-1-6">kitzzeh/Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>Blockbuster films may be thriving, but poetic art cinema has a more precarious place in the market and needs nurturing by cinephiles. Film director <a href="https://www.manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk/9780719097591/">Alejandro G. Iñárritu</a> (of The Revenant, Birdman, and Babel fame) recently <a href="https://variety.com/2019/film/global/alejandro-g-inarritu-on-the-need-to-preserve-poetry-in-cinema-1203305924/">spoke to Variety</a> about how our worlds are being closed in by streaming services managed by “algorithms designed to keep feeding people what they like”. He added: “the problem is that the algorithms are very smart but they are not creative, and they don’t know what people don’t know they like.” </p>
<p>We are in a golden age of streaming content and at-the-cinema-film. We just need to be guided by more than algorithms to see the treasures hiding away in this new era of excess and neglect.</p>
<h2>TV or film – what’s the difference?</h2>
<p>To complicate the arguments about the relative merits of TV series and film, distinctions between film and television are less clear than they ever have been. Many films (particularly those involving <a href="https://theconversation.com/will-the-superhero-films-ever-end-the-business-of-blockbuster-movie-franchises-78834">superheroes</a>) are no longer stand alone, but form part of a serial cinematic “Universe”.</p>
<p>Many TV series now consist of feature-length episodes. With a run-time of 151 minutes, we could ask whether the Sense8 finale was actually a Netflix film, rather than a single episode. And, does it even matter to viewers what we call it?</p>
<p>In a world where visual media is being increasingly viewed on tablets, mobile phones and laptops rather than in actual cinemas or on television sets perhaps the terms “cinema” and “television” no longer even make sense. This is an argument my co-editors and I <a href="https://dx.doi.org/10.1080/25785273.2019.1660067">make in a recent editorial</a> for the journal Transnational Screens.</p>
<p>A key point is that streaming platforms such as Amazon and Netflix do not stand in opposition to cinema. Instead they have consumed cinema, repackaged it and made it available to global audiences. Powerful voices <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/mar/04/netflix-steven-spielberg-streaming-films-versus-cinema">rail against the power</a> of such platforms, but they do enhance screen culture and make cinema more available to global audiences.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/122234/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Deborah Shaw does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Are our interests shifting away from film and towards TV series? As media changes, is there even a difference between TV and film?Deborah Shaw, Professor of Film and Screen Studies, University of PortsmouthLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/815832017-07-27T02:01:22Z2017-07-27T02:01:22ZGeorge Romero’s zombies will make Americans reflect on racial violence long after his death<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/179844/original/file-20170726-29425-a9c4no.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Annual 2010 zombie march in Madrid, an homage to George A. Romero.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo/Paul White</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>“What’s your zombie apocalypse survival plan?” </p>
<p>The question invites the liveliest discussions of the semester. I teach a course on social movements in fiction and film at West Virginia University, where I also conduct research on <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/politics-and-gender/article/racializing-gender-public-opinion-at-the-intersection/E97F06AF207D264FDE550A864A0EEB1E">race</a> and <a href="https://t.co/tMn93l5VQU">gender</a> politics in the United States. </p>
<p>George Romero’s first film, “Night of the Living Dead,” is on the syllabus. The film was groundbreaking in its use of horror as political critique. Half a century later, Romero’s films are still in conversation with racial politics in the United States, and Romero’s recent death calls for reflection on his legacy as a filmmaker. </p>
<h2>Disquieted times</h2>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=581&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=581&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=581&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/180242/original/file-20170728-17792-1r05vqr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=730&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Newark, N.J. Rioting erupted in the predominantly black area of Newark’s central ward in July 1967.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo</span></span>
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<p>Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, an English professor and <a href="https://www.upress.umn.edu/book-division/books/monster-theory">monster theorist</a> at George Washington University, <a href="https://www.academia.edu/3999660/Undead_A_Zombie_Oriented_Ontology_">notes</a> that “Like all monsters, zombies are metaphors for that which disquiets their generative times.”</p>
<p>Romero shot “Night of the Living Dead” in 1967, when Americans’ attention was focused on powerful televised images of race riots in cities like Newark and Detroit, and on the Vietnam War, the likes of which were <a href="http://yearofthelivingdead.com/">new to broadcast news</a>. Romero reimagined scores of bleeding faces, twisted in rage or vacant from trauma, as the zombie hoard. He filtered public anger and anxieties through the hoard, reflecting what many viewed as liberals’ rage and disappointment over a lack of real social change and others saw as conservatives’ fear over disruptions in race relations and traditional family structures. This is the utility of the zombie as a political metaphor – it’s flexible; there is room enough for all our fears.</p>
<p>In “Night of the Living Dead,” an unlikely cross-section of people are cornered in a farmhouse by a zombie hoard. They struggle with each other and against the zombies to survive the night. At the end of the film, black protagonist Ben Huss is the sole survivor. He emerges from the basement at daybreak, only to be mistaken for a zombie and shot by an all-white militia. The militiamen congratulate each other and remark that Huss is “another one for the fire.” They never realize their terrible error. Perhaps they are inclined to see Huss as a threat to begin with, because he is black.</p>
<p>At the start of Romero’s next film, “Dawn of the Dead,” in which another unlikely bunch faces off against zombies in a shopping mall, police surround a public housing building. One officer remarks on the unfairness of putting blacks and Hispanics in these “big-ass fancy hotels” and proceeds to shoot residents indiscriminately, not distinguishing between the living and the undead. </p>
<p>The officers are shooting to restore the “natural order” in which the dead stay dead. But their actions also restore the prevailing social order and the institutions that create and reinforce racial inequality.</p>
<h2>Zombie revival</h2>
<p>In my class, I connect these scenes of dehumanization to contemporary racial politics, using them as a springboard for conversations about racially motivated police violence and the Black Lives Matter movement. These discussions focus on the zombie as a dehumanized creature.</p>
<p>In returning from the dead, zombies lose their human essence – their agency, critical reasoning capacities, empathy and language. As Cohen <a href="https://www.academia.edu/3999660/Undead_A_Zombie_Oriented_Ontology_">writes,</a> “Zombies are a collective, a swarm. They do not own individualizing stories. They do not have personalities. They eat. They kill. They shamble. They suffer and they cause suffering. They are dirty, stinking, and poorly dressed. They are indifferent to their own decay.” Zombies retain a human form, but lose their individuality and are dehumanized in their reanimation.</p>
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<span class="caption">Film director George A. Romero in Mexico City in 2011.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo/Marco Ugarte</span></span>
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<p>Minority victims of police shootings are often portrayed in the media as dangerous, animalistic and even monstrous – meaning they too are <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2014/08/11/339592009/people-wonder-if-they-gunned-me-down-what-photo-would-media-use">stripped of their basic humanity</a>. <a href="http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1207/s15327957pspr1003_4">Social psychologists</a> argue that perceptions of humanity are a critical part of social cognition – the way we process or think about other people and social settings. When we see people or groups as less than human, predictable consequences arise. Romero’s films tune us in to our own potential for dehumanization.</p>
<h2>Zombie psychology</h2>
<p><a href="http://www.annualreviews.org/doi/abs/10.1146/annurev-psych-010213-115045?journalCode=psych">Dehumanization</a> relaxes our moral restrictions on doing harm to others and ultimately facilitates <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0022103112002284">violence</a> against them. When people see members of a group as an undifferentiated “hoard,” they’re susceptible to the same error as the militiamen in “Night of the Living Dead.” When they couple dehumanization with hatred, resentment or fear, they become like the resentful police officer in “Dawn of the Dead.” Dehumanization of black Americans underpins the violence perpetrated against them in Romero’s films and in America today.</p>
<p>Dehumanization isn’t confined to police violence. <a href="http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0146167216675334">New research</a> shows that dehumanization of Muslims and Hispanics underlies support for restrictive immigration policies and a border wall. It also undercuts support for aid to refugees. </p>
<p>In my own research, I show that political candidates are often dehumanized in <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/monkey-cage/wp/2016/10/31/here-are-3-insights-into-why-some-people-think-trump-is-a-monster/?utm_term=.1a8eea6a8fbb">political discourse</a> and <a href="https://qdr.syr.edu/discover/browse/QDR:10079">campaign imagery</a>. This work suggests that monsters plague our elections and governance processes more broadly.</p>
<p>Romero will be best remembered for giving the zombie a place in mainstream American culture, but he also gave us a warning about human psychology and critical insights into racial politics in the U.S. For this reason, his work will continue to have a revered place on my syllabus.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/81583/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Erin C. Cassese does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Romero’s ‘Night of the Living Dead’ and ‘Dawn of the Dead’ will be remembered among the first films to use horror as a form of political critique.Erin C. Cassese, Associate Professor of Political Science, West Virginia UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/678372016-10-30T19:08:56Z2016-10-30T19:08:56ZHalloween films: the good, the bad and the truly scary<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/143609/original/image-20161028-11256-1e5b422.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Brad Loree in Halloween: Resurrection (2002)</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Dimension Films/idmb</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>If you are sick of children knocking on your door and demanding lollies and if you don’t feel like dressing up in a sexy or grotesque costume tonight, here are some Halloween films to help you ward off evil spirits. Unsurprisingly, most are in the horror genre. </p>
<p>The obvious “go-tos” are the films from the eponymous franchise, John Carpenter’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077651/">Halloween</a> of 1978 and its seven sequels and two remakes. The majority of these films, however, are unwatchable; mostly boring and sometimes unpleasant.</p>
<p>By far the best two films are Carpenter’s original and its in-name only sequel, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085636/fullcredits?ref_=tt_ov_st_sm">Halloween III: Season of the Witch</a> (1982): the only one of the series that doesn’t feature lethal, masked maniac Michael Myers.</p>
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<span class="caption">Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween.</span>
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<p>Carpenter’s first film is, contrary to popular belief, a carefully measured and effectively manipulative slow burn. The film unfolds in what feels like close to real time, following the actions of heroine Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) as she and her group of friends are picked off one by one by the killer. </p>
<p>It is, of course, notorious as one of the earlier American “slasher” films – a sub-genre that virtually began with Italian auteur Mario Bava’s answers to Hitchcock, films like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064904/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Hatchet for the Honeymoon</a> (1970) and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067656/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Twitch of the Death Nerve</a> (1971) – and remains one of the most profitable and influential independent films to this day.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077651/?ref_=nv_sr_1">Halloween</a> offers a brilliant, post-Vietnam War examination of the potential horror simultaneously germinated in, emerging from, and entering the American small town. Carpenter seems to recognise, and clearly develop, the macabre potential of small town life.</p>
<p>Rob Zombie attempted to reanimate the franchise with his remake in 2007. Although Zombie has made a couple of worthwhile films – <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0395584/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Devil’s Rejects</a> is easily his best – his take on Halloween is a complete dud. Whereas Carpenter depicts Michael Myers as the personification of evil, Zombie tries to psychologise Myers, making the film about his inner development as an abused child institutionalised from a young age.</p>
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<p>Carpenter’s approach is much more aesthetically satisfying than Zombie’s hokey attempt at psychological realism, which completely nullifies the far-more horrifying potential of the idea of Myers as the emergence of evil lurking within the heart of the good, the everyday, the ordinary. </p>
<p>And even though evil doesn’t exist in the real world, it can be an exciting, compelling concept around which to build and structure art. Films like Halloween (and Wes Craven’s later <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087800/?ref_=nv_sr_1">A Nightmare on Elm Street</a>) offer a layered, culturally rich critique of American suburban conformity – and Zombie’s psychologising of Myers radically shifts this emphasis away from the socio-cultural towards the personal and the private.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085636/?ref_=nv_sr_5">Halloween III: Season of the Witch</a>, which was produced, but not directed by, Carpenter, is one of the weirder films in the cinematic archive. It oscillates between moments of supernatural terror, repellent violence, and the science-fiction uncanny – a heady blend for a horror film. The basic plot follows Dr Dan Challis (Tom Atkins) as he stumbles upon a conspiracy in Santa Mira, a small coastal Californian town. To say much more about it would spoil what is a shockingly bizarre story.</p>
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<p>Suffice to say, it combines several strands that each in itself could constitute an entire feature film: the nightmare of being a stranger in a small, hostile town; the uncanny terror of the computer age; a diabolical plot to kill the world’s children; and weird supernatural magic harking back to the Druids (Stonehenge even rates a mention). As well as Carpenter stalwart Atkins, it features screen legend Dan O’Herlihy – best known for his roles in Fail Safe, Robocop and Twin Peaks – in a brilliant turn as an evil toymaker.</p>
<p>The only other films from the series worth watching are <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120694/?ref_=nv_sr_1">Halloween: H2O</a> (1998), a hip, post-grunge entry in the series, and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0220506/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Halloween: Resurrection</a> (2002), which introduces Myers to reality TV…</p>
<h2>Other tricky treats</h2>
<p>There are, of course, many other horror films set on or around Halloween.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092112/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2">Trick or Treat</a> (1986), the first film directed by well-known character actor Charles Martin Smith, is one of the best. The story follows Eddie (Marc Price), a disaffected high school metal head, as he resurrects recently immolated rock-god Sammi Curr (Tony Fields) by playing Curr’s latest record in reverse. </p>
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<p>Curr appears in demonic form and proceeds to wipe out Eddie’s class mates – friends and bullies alike – and wreak general havoc around town. The first rate 80s metal soundtrack and cameos by Ozzie Osbourne and Gene Simmons are sure to give anyone nostalgic for the 80s a kick.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094886/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Clownhouse </a>(1989) is also worth checking out. It’s set just before Halloween, and takes place mostly inside a single house as a young boy and his brothers are mercilessly terrorised by escaped lunatics dressed up as clowns.</p>
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<p>This intense horror thriller became the subject of a great deal of controversy when Victor Salva, the film’s writer and director, was charged with the sexual abuse of the film’s 12-year old star, Nathan Forrest Winters. It was released on VHS in 1990 – I still remember its creepy cover from video store shelves – but its release to DVD in 2003 was cancelled due to controversy around Salva’s charge. Salva has, since Clownhouse (<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/mar/29/actors-warned-to-avoid-paedophile-director-victor-salva-jeepers-creepers-3">and his time in prison</a>) made a few notable films – <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114168/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Powder</a> (1995) with Jeff Goldblum, and the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0263488/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Jeepers Creepers</a> (2001, 2003) films.</p>
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<p>Some other films to consider: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0095484/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Lady in White</a> (1988) is an excellent supernatural thriller-cum-nostalgia film about a spooky ghost haunting a kid after he is locked in a school cupboard on Halloween night; <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090021/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2">Silver Bullet</a> (1985) is a solid werewolf film based on a Stephen King story which culminates on Halloween; <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0113449/?ref_=fn_al_tt_6">Jack-O</a> (1995) is a prime piece of low budget nuttiness produced by the master of straight to video schlock, Fred Olen Ray; and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093624/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Night of the Demons</a> (1988) is a trashy but enjoyable Halloween film.</p>
<p>If you are not in the mood for such intense horror, there are many comedies, horror comedies – and of course TV specials – set around Halloween, including the inimitable but irritating family film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0107120/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Hocus Pocus</a> (1993), and the refreshingly ridiculous stoner comedy <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0138510/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Idle Hands</a> (1999).</p>
<p>There you have it – some of the myriad Halloween films that you once could have found on the shelves of your local video store.</p>
<p>Good luck keeping the demons away, and please don’t put any razor blades in apples.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/67837/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Spooky ghosts, rampaging rock gods, an escaped killer dressed as a clown: Halloween has inspired an array of creepy cinematic classics. Here’s our list of those to watch - and avoid.Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Media Studies, University of Notre Dame AustraliaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/615782016-06-26T19:59:19Z2016-06-26T19:59:19ZLife lessons from the editing suite of Paul Cox<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/127993/original/image-20160624-30244-xljdkv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Filmmaker Paul Cox pictured with actor David Wenham in 2012.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Julian Smith/AAP</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>I was introduced to Paul Cox at his home office in Albert Park in 2006. I felt nervous as hell as I was ushered through the dark and musty corridors filled with ancient camera gear. I immediately recognised the posters on the walls and they brought back fond memories of sneaking out of bed late at night to watch films on SBS as a teenager.</p>
<p>The first Paul Cox film I stumbled upon was <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0441774/">Lonely Hearts</a> (1982) and I distinctly remember being surprised by how different it was. It seemed so alien and foreign, but also deeply familiar and personal: the actors and the locations … But I was strangely confronted by how emotional the film was. </p>
<p>In Australia, nobody likes a sook and we try to keep our mouths shut when it comes to expressing ourselves, but Paul’s films felt like a reaction against the emotionally restrained Australian caricature. They had a distinct European sensibility which was a heartfelt plea for us to witness all things beautiful before they pass us by … just like meeting the man himself, as I was about to discover.</p>
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<h2>A sculpture inside a block of wood</h2>
<p>As I walked into his office, led by our mutual friend, the actor and editor <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aden_Young">Aden Young</a>, Paul got up from his desk and shook my hand with both of his, repeating my name as if it was some kind of relief to finally have met me – as though these two paths were destined to cross.</p>
<p>Our conversation centred on films, love, art and our mutual hatred for the Grand Prix, held annually in Albert Park. It was a profound experience which I have witnessed with others many times since. Paul had the ability to make whomever he was meeting feel like the most important person in the world – two lost kindred spirits finding common ground in a mad, mad world.</p>
<p>This first meeting took place just before I embarked upon my final year at the VCA Film School. Aden needed me to replace him for a few months as Paul’s editor. </p>
<p>For the next four months, I worked on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1297299/?ref_=fn_al_tt_6">Salvation</a>, a film starring Wendy Hughes as a TV evangelist. Juggling it between classes at the VCA, I had my very own “one on one” film school with Paul. It was an experience that changed me as a storyteller.</p>
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<p>During the edit, I was always looking to make brash decisions and to cut and hack into the film by playing Tetris with the movie clips on Final Cut, the digital editing software we used.</p>
<p>But Paul’s background was with splicing and taping actual film negatives, so every decision was considered and thoughtful. He worked away at the film as though it was a sculpture waiting to be discovered inside a block of wood. He was always cautious not to make a cut too deep for fear it might damage the end product. </p>
<p>That level of patience – and faith that the work will reveal itself – will always stay with me. Working as Paul’s editor, I was basically acting as his translator for the “machine”, as he called it – the digital technology that eluded him. </p>
<p>He made little progress in understanding computers or digital editing and protested fiercely against them. There were many times that Paul took out his frustrations in the edit room, cursing and growling at how ridiculous the process had become. The computer represented everything that Paul felt had gone wrong with the world, and with cinema. He was frustrated with the embrace of quick cuts and the lack of heart, intimacy and truth that had come from the MTV generation of filmmakers. </p>
<h2>A crew of loyal creatives</h2>
<p>Paul’s films were his art and his soul, so he refused to compromise or to make a film that wasn’t for himself: a true auteur in every sense and, sadly, not so much a dying breed in Australia, more of an anomaly.</p>
<p>Apart from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0208854/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1">Rolf De Heer</a>, I can’t think of an Australian filmmaker who can compare with Paul’s body of work. This country rarely celebrates filmmakers who put their heart on their sleeve or take risks to occasionally fail and unashamedly explore the melodramatic and absurd nature of being human.</p>
<p>We struggle with that third act and rarely do we completely “go there” out of fear of being cut down or being ridiculed for being too emotional or arrogant. Remember, nobody likes a sook, mate.</p>
<p>It’s a deep-rooted problem that we have with our cultural identity: if we’re not an English colony or an American fanboy/girl, then what are we? The caricatures of Paul Hogan, Chips Rafferty and Steve Irwin paint only a tiny glimpse of the whole picture. And it’s a dated one, a very masculine and stoic view of the country that wouldn’t dare cry or declare love for their fellow man, woman, piece of music or art. </p>
<p>But Cox and De Heer, born elsewhere yet having lived here long enough to truly understand the place, were able to transcend these existential limitations.</p>
<p>As payment for my hours on Salvation, Paul generously gave me half the budget for my VCA graduating short film, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1336250/?ref_=nm_knf_t4">Hell’s Gates</a> (2008). He also introduced me to my future producer Maggie Miles with whom I ended up making Hell’s Gates, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1361843/?ref_=nm_knf_t1">Van Diemen’s Land</a> (2009) and Fog, a chapter of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2322641/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Turning</a> films.</p>
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<p>It was Paul who saw Hell’s Gates and recommended that I bypass the traditional funding routes and just go out there and make the feature. Much like he made his films. He said: “You made the 20-minute short for less than 20,000, go out there and make the feature for 80.” </p>
<p>It was his words that inspired Oscar Redding and me to push forward, get a bank loan, beg friends and family for money and make Van Diemen’s Land. Maggie, Oscar and I made that feature for A$260,000. So potentially, without Paul, we may not have a Van Diemen’s Land. </p>
<p>Paul worked outside the system and by his own rules, earning a reputation in the industry for achieving low budgets by working with dedicated crews who shared his passion.</p>
<p>Paul’s trick to keeping the budget low was having a tiny crew of loyal creatives. For example, Chris Haywood, who acted in many of his films, would also often cater, clapper load, art direct, do make-up or whatever else was needed.</p>
<h2>Sanity and creative expression</h2>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=1109&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=1109&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=1109&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1394&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1394&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/128000/original/image-20160624-30263-aeai3o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1394&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Nijinsky: The Diaries of Vaslav Nijinsky (2001).</span>
</figcaption>
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<p>Overseas, Paul had <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/23/movies/paul-cox-independent-filmmaker-who-explored-postmodern-life-dies-at-76.html?_r=0">recognition at all the major festivals</a> and enjoyed a close relationship with Roger Ebert – <a href="http://www.rogerebert.com/balder-and-dash/paul-cox-1940---2016">who thought Paul was the bee’s knees</a>. Understandably, as the three films that Paul directed in the early ‘80s, back to back, are some of the finest ever produced in this country: <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084264/?ref_=fn_al_tt_3">Lonely Hearts</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085893/">Man Of Flowers</a> (1983) and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087765/">My First Wife</a> (1984).</p>
<p>For those who say he never regained such genius, I urge you to watch <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0103282/">A Woman’s Tale</a> (1991), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094269/?ref_=nm_flmg_dr_18">Vincent</a> (1987), <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0295480/">Nijinsky</a> (2001) and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1978459/?ref_=nm_flmg_dr_4">Kaluapapa Heaven</a> (2007). You can watch any film by Paul and feel like you’re having a heartfelt and honest discussion with the man, regardless of whether they are “successful” films or not.</p>
<p>One of my favourite films, Nijinsky was an exploration of the mind of a brilliant genius. Paul gained insight into Nijinsky’s diaries in a way no other artist could. </p>
<p>You can see that he identifies with the madman. He feels the battle between sanity, creative expression, passion and just plainly being human. Nijinsky said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You will understand me when you see me dance. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>I know Paul identified deeply with that quote. His films were an attempt to share a glimpse into the way he saw the world.</p>
<p>I wonder if the reason we don’t celebrate Paul Cox in the ranks of other “new wave” filmmakers such as Schepisi, Weir, Armstrong, Beresford etc etc is because his success wasn’t validated by making films in Hollywood. It’s often the case here and part of the cultural cringe. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2321549/">The Babadook</a> (2014) needed to be a success elsewhere before we embraced it here.</p>
<h2>Like breathing</h2>
<p>Making films was like breathing for Paul and he made one almost every year. The lack of recognition in Australia has been sad, but I feel it helped drive him. His obsession with Vincent Van Gogh always made so much sense to me.</p>
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<p>If he had more success and money then he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Paul gathered enough money together to buy a corner block in Albert Park in the early '80s and it became his sanctuary. He slowly rented out sections to keep himself afloat. He never craved an extravagant life.</p>
<p>If he had more money then maybe he would have simply paid us even more. Sounds ridiculous, as he wasn’t a saint, but he valued other artists so much. I spoke with Rob Menzies the other day, who played the lead opposite Isabelle Huppert in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090784/">Cactus</a> (1986). He said even though he was paid a touch above union rates for the film, he was called into the office and handed an envelope by Paul with over A$5,000 in it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We came in under budget, merry Christmas.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I ended up editing/co-editing Paul’s last three films – if it wasn’t for him I would still be paying off my half of the Van Diemens’ Land loan. I spent many months in those dark rooms and I considered him a mentor and a close friend.</p>
<p>We laughed ourselves silly, wept together at the beauty of the world and cursed passionately at the injustices within it. He always said, “We have to love each other and care for each other, everything else is just fucking bullshit, you know?” Trust me, it sounds much more profound in Paul’s accent and raspy old-man voice.</p>
<p>But I was fascinated by how closely related his anger and passion were. He would be brought to tears about the violence in the world and how people should appreciate art and love more deeply, and then in the same breath call someone a “fucking c…”.</p>
<p>The contradictions made him even more human and relatable. He was as flawed as the rest of us … but he was the most passionate person I have ever met. So driven, stubborn, generous and warm. We who worked with him all loved him deeply for it and will always carry him around in our hearts.</p>
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<p>But most of all, I’ll never forget being that film school student, sitting next to an old Steinbeck in the caged editing room below the stairs, watching the actors of Salvation walk past the barred window … Wendy Hughes, Barry Humphries, Kym Gyngell, Chris Haywood, Bud Tingwell, Terry Norris and Julia Blake to name a few.</p>
<p>The beautiful Wendy convinced me on my first day to come upstairs and eat some of Paul’s famous “Albert Park Chicken”, a chicken breast plonked on a roasted sweet potato.</p>
<p>Amongst the walls of clocks, knick-knacks and framed photos of crew from the dozens of films Paul made sat Paul, Aden, Wendy, Chris, TLJ (the actor and producer Tony Llewellyn-Jones), the DOP Ian Jones and soundy James Currie. I pulled a seat at the table and thought I was the luckiest film student alive.</p>
<p>Many of my heroes of Australian cinema sat there and laughed at anecdotes from making old films past – the very films I’d snuck out to watch on SBS. The very house I sat in was a production studio or location for many of these films and it was drenched in a history that I hoped to be a part of.</p>
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<p>I could almost imagine Paul’s dear friend, the Man Of Flowers himself, Norman Kaye, or the great John Hargreaves or the writer Bob Ellis sitting there with us. I’m so lucky to have sat at that table as there may not be many like it in the future. Sadly, not many filmmakers will be able to afford a house with room for a table.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/61578/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jonathan auf der Heide does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Editing a movie beside the late, great Paul Cox was like attending ‘a one on one’ film school. The growling auteur was a brilliantly stubborn man, who treated film with reverence and wore his heart on his sleeve.Jonathan auf der Heide, Lecturer , The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/601702016-05-31T05:21:04Z2016-05-31T05:21:04ZVIDEO: The five greatest Scorsese scenes – episode #5 Goodfellas<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/124410/original/image-20160529-879-1l4xg38.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Still from Goodfellas, 1990</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Martin Scorsese is widely considered to be one of the best living film directors. As a major retrospective of his work opens at ACMI, film scholar Bruce Isaacs dissects five classic Scorsese scenes.</p>
<p>In episode five, Isaacs analyses two related but very different scenes: the famous Copacabana <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steadicam">Steadicam</a> tracking shot from Goodfellas (1990) and the digital tracking shot from the opening scene in Hugo (2011).</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Goodfellas, 1990.</span></figcaption>
</figure><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/60170/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bruce Isaacs does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Bruce Isaacs analyses two related but very different scenes: the famous Copacabana tracking shot from Goodfellas (1990) and the opening scene in Hugo (2011).Bruce Isaacs, Senior Lecturer in Film Studies, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/599882016-05-30T04:29:43Z2016-05-30T04:29:43ZVIDEO: The five greatest Scorsese scenes – episode #4 Raging Bull<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/123915/original/image-20160525-25226-1f8usmq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Still from Raging Bull, 1980</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Martin Scorsese is widely considered to be one of the best living film directors. As a major retrospective of his work opens at ACMI, film scholar Bruce Isaacs dissects five classic Scorsese scenes.</p>
<p>In episode four, Isaacs analyses an intense and emotionally charged scene from Raging Bull, 1980.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Raging Bull, 1980.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<hr>
<p>View episode one: <a href="https://theconversation.com/video-the-five-greatest-scorsese-scenes-episode-1-59816">Who’s That Knocking At My Door?</a></p>
<p>View episode two: <a href="https://theconversation.com/video-the-five-greatest-scorsese-scenes-episode-2-59960">Mean Streets</a></p>
<p>View episode three: <a href="https://theconversation.com/video-the-five-greatest-scorsese-scenes-episode-3-taxi-driver-59985">Taxi Driver</a></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/59988/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bruce Isaacs does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Bruce Isaacs looks at an intense and emotionally charged scene from the 1980 classic, Raging Bull.Bruce Isaacs, Senior Lecturer in Film Studies, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/573352016-04-06T02:19:07Z2016-04-06T02:19:07ZThe Walking Dead: why that final point-of-view shot tells us nothing<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117579/original/image-20160406-29010-16y59zy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Fans are not happy with the end of the Walking Dead season finale. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AMC</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Spoilers ahead for the end of The Walking Dead season six.</em></p>
<p>The very last scene in this week’s episode of The Walking Dead is more than a little harrowing for fans of this zombie apocalypse drama.</p>
<p>One of the long-standing main characters of the close-knit group of survivors, led by the series protagonist Rick Grimes (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0511088/">Andrew Lincoln</a>), is violently bludgeoned to death. The final scene is worthy of a Tarantino movie, as Rick’s newly introduced nemesis, Negan (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0604742/">Jeffrey Dean Morgan</a>), menacingly chooses which of the regular crew he is to kill.</p>
<p>The final shot of the episode – and the season – is from the point of view of Negan’s victim as his barbed wire-wound baseball bat “Lucile” is brought down with full force on top of our collective head. </p>
<p>We don’t know whose point of view we are sharing, as our vision blurs, blood streaks over our eyes, and more violent blows blank the screen, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnT7nYbCSvM">Sopranos-style</a>.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The final scene of the final episode of season six.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This final shot leaves fans with a big question: which character did Negan kill? In usual cliffhanger style, we won’t know until season seven airs, likely in October this year.</p>
<p>It also raises another question: how can a shot from one particular character’s subjective point of view, tell us absolutely nothing? “We” have just experienced a violent death of another through their eyes, but why do we feel so disconnected from their fate when we see from their point of view?</p>
<p>The point of view shot, or “POV shot”, is a long-established convention in TV and cinema, and it has perplexed film theorists for decades.</p>
<p>Maria Pramaggiore and Tom Wallis say in <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12261733-film">Film: A Critical Introduction</a> (2005) that the function of a POV shot is to:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>help to explain the way characters experience the world, validate character interpretations of events, and provide information about motivation.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It seems obvious that the POV shot sets up our identification with on-screen characters. And, as philosophy of film professor <a href="https://www.st-andrews.ac.uk/philosophy/dept/staffprofiles/?staffid=100">Berys Gaut</a> says: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>the success or failure of a film partly depends on whether this identification occurs, and that the quality and strength of emotional responses depends on identification.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This idea of identifying with a character’s perspective is often called “central imagining”, a term coined in the 1980s by British philosopher <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/news/2003/nov/05/guardianobituaries.booksobituaries">Richard Wollheim</a>. When we centrally imagine, we imaginatively adopt the internal position of another person.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117578/original/image-20160406-28950-omfpgb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Lucille’, the baseball bat of the Walking Dead villain Negan.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AMC</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But do POV shots actually do this? Do they allow us to identify emotionally with the point of view we share?</p>
<p>Another film theorist, <a href="http://sensesofcinema.com/2001/film-critics/carroll/">Noël Carroll</a>, argues that for that to happen, the POV shot is not enough, and we must see from the outside as well.</p>
<p>Think here of the climactic scene of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0073195/">Jaws</a> (1975). Our identification with the emotional states of Chief Brody (Roy Scheider) is generated by a rapid cycling through POV shots (including both of Brody and, interestingly, the shark), as well as reaction shots and external shots of the scene.</p>
<p>The final shot of the shark alive – just before Brody shoots the compressed air cylinder that blows it up – is from Brody’s point of view, before switching to a reaction shot of Brody as he says “smile you son-of-a b…” and discharges the fatal shot.</p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The climax of Jaws (1975) used POV and reaction shots to build tension.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Seen through Brody’s point of view alone, and John Williams’s Academy Award-winning score notwithstanding, the audience would have little information about his emotional response to the shark as it approaches him/us. In his reaction shot, we see his face contorting in desperation, fear and anger – and that’s what hooks us in emotionally.</p>
<p>Noël Carroll argues that these reaction and POV shots are dependent upon each other, because the reaction shot:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>uses the character’s face to give us information about her emotional state with respect to what she sees. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>To portray a character’s inner state, and not just their visual perspective, the audience must see them from the outside, seeing their face and emotional cues.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=855&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1074&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1074&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/117571/original/image-20160406-29002-13zcld5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1074&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lady in the Lake (1947).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">MGM</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In fact, it’s quite rare for any movie to show us only the protagonist’s point of view in one continuous POV shot. Some notable examples are Robert Montgomery’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0039545/">Lady in the Lake </a>(1947), Alexander Sokurov’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0318034/">Russian Ark</a> (2002) and Gaspar Noé’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1191111/">Enter the Void</a> (2010).</p>
<p>But each of these films struggles to find ways to convey the emotional state of the person through whose eyes we see. Russian Ark and Enter the Void attempt to do this by allowing us to hear the internal thoughts of the protagonist.</p>
<p>Both Russian Ark and Enter the Void also use the POV shot to convey the experience of the protagonist’s moment of death. So, it’s interesting that The Walking Dead adopts a POV shot to convey the death of a favourite character.</p>
<p>However, many film theorists agree that the POV-only shot, without a reaction shot, actually stifles any empathetic connection we might form in sharing that point of view. One of the editors of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/565060.Philosophy_of_Film_and_Motion_Pictures">Philosophy of Film and Motion Pictures</a> (2005) Jinhee Choi wrote: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Emotional engagement with characters requires more than mere perceptual alignment with them and it is achieved in conjunction with other factors within the narrative. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Without those other factors – seeing character reactions or the larger scene – we simply can’t hitch a ride inside a character’s head.</p>
<p>The season finale’s director, Greg Nicotero, is a veteran of zombie horror – he worked on special effects for George A Romero’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088993/">Day of the Dead</a> (1985). Perhaps he was challenged with an impossible task: to portray the harrowing death of a main character in a way that allows us, the audience, to identify with them, while not giving away the cliffhanger.</p>
<p>We won’t even know whose pain we were meant to feel until later this year. Ouch.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/57335/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kit Messham-Muir does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Spoiler warning for the season six finale of The Walking Dead. We talk point-of-view shots and the visual language of empathy.Kit Messham-Muir, Senior Lecturer in Art History and Theory, University of NewcastleLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/556352016-03-09T00:32:41Z2016-03-09T00:32:41ZExplainer: the exciting new genre of the audio-visual film essay<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/114373/original/image-20160308-22120-1d57ivx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A still from Mirrors of Bergman, a profoundly moving audio-visual essay.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Vimeo.</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>During March, the renowned film scholar Adrian Martin and the film critic Cristina Álvarez López are conducting a series of public workshops and lectures on a new and exciting phenomenon of digital film culture: the audio-visual essay.</p>
<p>Barely ten years old, the audio-visual genre has generated thousands of international works. The growing number of forums for it, such as <a href="https://vimeo.com/groups/audiovisualcy">AUDIOVISUALCY</a>, which contains more than 1,000 essays, demonstrate the scale and diversity of this new genre.</p>
<p>Audio-visual essayists intensively re-edit and recombine images and sounds from preexisting film, TV and digital works. </p>
<p>Coinciding with the rise of YouTube since 2005, the format was first embraced most enthusiastically by film fans, who could pay homage to their favourite works by capturing the thematic preoccupations of a director or the peculiarity of an actor’s performance.</p>
<p>Such analyses and homages might privilege particular scenes, gestures or looks – that kiss between Kim Novak and James Stewart in Hitchcock’s <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052357/">Vertigo</a> (1958) or the cigarette that Humphrey Bogart lights, again and again, in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0037382/">To Have and To Have Not</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0033870/">The Maltese Falcon</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038355/">The Big Sleep</a>.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=985&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=985&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/114371/original/image-20160308-22126-1pbchde.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=985&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Humphrey Bogart and that cigarette.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Flickr</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But the new creative and critical potential of the audio-visual essay was also gradually appreciated by film critics, cinema scholars and educators.</p>
<p>Many universities now offer courses on audio-visual practice. Several online film-studies journals, along with the educational blog <a href="http://filmstudiesforfree.blogspot.com.au">Film Studies for Free</a>, publish curated sections dedicated to audio-visual criticism.</p>
<p>Since critical and theoretical writing on cinema developed in the early 20th century, there have been three elements to the standard film studies “toolkit”: plot summary; vivid, descriptions of film style; and static, single-shot illustrations extracted from the film. </p>
<p>Single-frame illustration technique was perfected in the 1970s as a methodology of “frame by frame” analysis. It put together sequences of consecutive frames to “get closer” to nuances of facial expression, degrees of movement or interplay of light and shadow. </p>
<p>The emergence of VHS tapes and, later, of DVD allowed greater access to film material, as well as – in the case of DVD – information in the form of commentaries, featurettes, cuts and out-takes.</p>
<p>But it was only with the development of non-linear, video-editing programs (allowing you to dismantle the original footage, even separating image and sound) that it became possible not only to demonstrate and comment on certain features of the film, but to transform it. </p>
<p>Thus digital technology allowed scholars and critics to engage with screen material in a way that was impossible for the most of the 20th century – by directly working on the film’s moving image and sound.</p>
<p>This has led to the development of an innovative performative practice that generates new types of insight, particularly in relation to the way a film evokes feeling and emotion.</p>
<p>Some audio-visual essays relate to a film-maker’s themes or elements of style, such as visual motifs, recurrent settings, or a specificity of framing.</p>
<p>Adrian Martin and Cristina López’s essay <a href="https://vimeo.com/73447335">Melville Variations</a> astutely identifies a number of props used by the French director of the “noir” era Jean-Pierre Melville, including guns, phones, fedora hats, white gloves, and black and white tiles. It assembles them into a visual montage accompanied by a soundtrack of the signature tune of Le Samourai by François de Roubaux. </p>
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<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/73447335" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Other audio-visual essays are more theoretically oriented, often combining visual excerpts with textual commentaries. Catherine Grant’s work shows how feminist issues, <a href="https://vimeo.com/47245082">queer</a> issues or interest in <a href="https://vimeo.com/119051190">the body</a> and affect can be explored through video-graphic work. </p>
<figure>
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<p>Another audio-visual essayist, working under the name of KOGONADA, demonstrates how film history can be illuminated by illustrating the differences between Italian approaches to film-making after WWII and Hollywood cinema of the classical era.</p>
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<iframe src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/68514760" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="" mozallowfullscreen="" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>A third group of audio-visual essays tries to do something entirely different – taking the original footage as a point of departure for a deeply reflective, poetic and creative transformation. </p>
<p>What happens if we trace how Ingmar Bergman treats the motif of female characters looking into mirrors in various films and superimpose on these excerpts a reading of Sylvia Plath’s poem The Mirror? KOGONADA’s Mirrors of Bergman is a profoundly moving work that pays homage simultaneously to both Bergman and Plath.</p>
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<p>The proliferation of audio-visual essays has prompted various interest groups to pose some anxious questions. </p>
<p>How are we supposed to understand authorship under these new conditions? What is the relative impact of the original author versus the producer of the audio-visual essay? </p>
<p>What about respect for the original work and its integrity or cohesion, which essayists feel increasingly free to cut and splice, dismantle and recombine? </p>
<p>There are also complex questions about fair use or fair dealing for non-commercial, scholarly and critical purposes and contexts.</p>
<p>The audio-visual essay has also been met with confronting questions within the academy. Is it really a form of film criticism and theorising or is it just a testimony to the fan’s imaginative play – not much different from mash-ups or remixes? </p>
<p>There is still considerable resistance to the genre from a large group of scholars who believe that film analysis should remain what it has been for decades: writing that is grounded in methodologies and infused with theoretical concepts, and only invoking the film material as “evidence”. </p>
<p>Another camp believes that the most productive use of the audio-visual essay format for scholarly purposes is one that combines it with more traditional textual explanation, reflection or commentary. </p>
<p>While these debates will no doubt rage for a while yet, we can be sure of one thing: the rise of the audio-visual essay is now unstoppable.</p>
<p>Its rich and varied artefacts are testimony to the fertility of the encounter between passion for cinema, digital technologies and the tradition of film scholarship within screen studies. </p>
<p><br>
<em>Adrian Martin and Cristina Álvarez López will be giving a public lecture, <a href="http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/film-tv/news/">Hitting the Target: Hou Hsiao-hsien Style</a>, at Monash University on March 15, 5pm to 7pm.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/55635/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Julia Vassilieva is receiving ARC funding for a project exploring cinema and the brain.</span></em></p>Digital technology has transformed the work of cinema scholars, spawning a rich and poetic critical form.Julia Vassilieva, ARC DECRA Research Fellow in Film and Screen Studies, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.