Girls on Film: Suspiria & Shivers

Girls on Film 

Films in Focus: Shivers & Suspiria

(For a brief summaries of these films click here)

I must admit, I did have a problem with seeing some of the things that happened to the women in Shivers. Owing to the subject matter (the release of people's sexual inhibitions via venereal parasites) there was always going to be a sexually aggressive element to the film and although we know this is due to the assailants being out of control, it is still difficult to watch. However, in the closing act of the film the previously abused women were infected with the parasite and I began to feel differently about what I'd seen. When the men had their sexual inhibitions released they became neanderthal and brainless; when the women were infected it was more like a liberation. There are, to my mind, three notable women in the film who all start as secondary characters. Taking the character of Nurse Forsythe as an example; she begins as a perfectly average girlfriend to the one of the male leads. She shows affection when he wants, makes him dinner and does what he tells her - the whole humble female shebang. When infected, however, she becomes powerful and sexual as well as seemingly becoming the leader of the infected masses. The other two main females have a similar character arc.

Suspiria is interesting in terms of female interaction simply because it is almost devoid of males. There are three men in the film: one is blind, one is mute and the other is gay - Argento says this was because he wanted none of the men to interfere with the female interaction (probably not the most P.C. of statements but he said it not me!). His first major film, Bird with the Crystal Plumage, was unusual in that it featured a powerful and punishing female and because of this, a trend developed in subsequent Italian horror and mystery films. I suppose this popularity coupled with his own love of exploring female interaction meant that by the time he got to Suspiria, Argento could go ahead and have a film of females. And I must say, Suspiria is like looking at a kaleidoscope of the female psyche - personified, exaggerated, then bounced off one another. Most interestingly for me was the portrayal of old women. The Principal of the dance school is played by a sixty seven year old Joan Bennet - and she looks fabulous. Similarly, all the other older women are portrayed as strong or powerful - not always positively powerful admittedly but still, there isn't a fuddy-duddy pensioner in sight. 

What does this mean? Well, men are obsessed with women for one. Cronenberg seems to discuss men's fear of women's sexuality (which is also discussed in a film which is said to have taken some inspiration from Shivers: Alien). He also seems to be fairly self deprecating towards male sexuality - I would be interested to know how men feel about this. Argento does not seem so much afraid of female sexuality as enthralled by it. His work has followed a pattern of strong women and in an interview he said the large majority of his audience is women; this would suggest that while awful things do happen to women, the female members of the audience appreciate that its because he is trying to explore every facet of female reaction and not just glorify violence against women. I know this is how I felt. 

My feelings towards Cronenberg, on the other hand, are a little different. There were times when I felt he was excessive and made me feel uncomfortable, however the final act made me consider that this may have been intentional. He seems to want to show that subversive and perverse sexual behaviour is bred of repressed minds and in order to really hammer that through to the audience he exposes us to the very behaviour he would seem to be condemning. While I felt unsure at first, I came to realise there was intention behind it; so whereas I may not have appreciated it at the time - I understand it, and his intentions.

Even if someone has solid artistic intentions, is there a line that can be crossed? 

I would say, no.

Would you?

Suspiria & Shivers: Body Horror as a Device

"For me all art is subversive in someway … it's inevitable, then, that if you consider yourself a serious artist that you are going to bother people."

- David Cronenberg

I have long been fascinated with the use of gore and body horror in film. It's a device, like any other, but does its excessive nature actually stop people from appreciating the meaning behind it and what is that meaning? As I am most interested in the thoughts of people who either know little about or dislike the subject, so as to ensure I don't alienate people with nerdery, I am going to consider two films I have only just seen: Shivers and Suspiria. 

*SPOILERS!!*

Brief Summaries

Suspiria (1977, Dir. Dario Argento)

My Score: 9/10

A young American ballet dancer, Suzy, comes to a European ballet academy to train - her arrival coincides with some strange events culminating in the mysterious death of another student. Bizarre occurrences and noises continue and as her suspicion heightens there are more sudden deaths. Suzy works out that, while the staff say they leave the school during they night, their footsteps tell a different story. 

Shivers (1975, Dir. David Cronenberg)

My Score: 7/10

Set on a luxury island near Montreal, the onsite doctors have been experimenting with the use of parasites to take over from failing organs. It is discovered that one of the doctors has been secretly breeding a parasite to free people of their inhibitions. His test subject is unable to handle the sudden release and becomes wild and promiscuous - infecting several others. With the parasite taking hold, a cast of characters attempt to combat the hysteria while not loosing themselves to it as well. 

Body Horror

Firstly, it was exciting to see how different two horror films can get within only two years of each other. Shivers is like a time capsule of the 70s; Cronenberg reportedly drew on the realism in underground New York cinema when making this film. The characters are all conventional people living ordinary lives who have a parasitic catalyst thrown into their midst. Suspiria, on the other hand, is completely outlandish in almost all respects. The characters are exaggerated, the sets are mad, the lighting is invasive - but it works wonderfully and was a very exciting film for these reasons. 

It is difficult to say which is a better setting for body horror: realism encourages empathy whereas melodrama takes the viewer out of the story and possibly into a more speculative frame of mind. I think the differences between Suspiria and Shivers hark back to the discussion of Brechtian and Stanaslavski storytelling in an earlier film review. With regard to gore, I think a Brechtian style piece (i.e. Suspiria because the audience is constantly reminded it's a film) is able to display its intentions more clearly; however, I don't think one can value either style over the the other as it just comes down to personal taste. 

Right: let's get grisly. An ideal moment for comparison sprung out at me - not only was the violent act the same, it was even filmed in a similar way: a throat slitting in extreme close up. I have to say I was more repulsed by the one in Shivers, probably due to the realistic lighting and mundane setting. Although less disgusted by the shot in Suspiria, I felt a more heightened sense of fear because the lighting was so extreme and the music was so relentless and bizarre. It seemed to me that the melodrama in Suspiria made it an emotional experience whereas the realism in Shivers felt more like watching an autopsy. 

The differing use of blood was also of interest. While featuring some pretty horrific images of parasites and writhing innards, Cronenberg used blood relatively sparingly - I think this comes from trying to base the film in reality so masses of blood would have been out of place. Because of this, when blood was present it was all the more unsettling and it's presence increased towards the climax. Contrastingly, I think Suspiria may have hired the Hammer Horror effects team as the whole thing was awash with the most vibrant blood you've ever seen (funnily enough, the director Argento cited early John Ford and Disney animations as the inspiration for the lurid colours in Suspiria). I found that I became relatively desensitised to the blood as a result of this and it became more of an addition to the colour palette. Suspiria is red. Everything is red. RED. So the blood becomes one with that; for this reason I thought the film felt a lot more like an expressive painting than a narrative. Whereas I believe Cronenberg is trying to express an ideology, it felt like Argento's intention was purely to take us to an vivid emotional place - something he certainly achieves. Possibly this explains the differing use of blood: Cronenberg saves it for moments of significance to highlight his intentions, Argento uses is to keep the viewer in a heightened  state of emotion and fear. 

Two very different films, with very different intentions and yet these are expressed predominantly through the same device: body horror. I appreciate many people are immediately sceptical of any argument professing the intelligence behind any gore films but don't just listen to me: Shivers was funded by the Canadian Film Development Corporation, a government run organisation, and was also passed uncut by the BBFC (British Board of Film Censors) on its 1975 release. Argento has gone on the become a horror film legend and has influenced filmmakers even outside of the horror genre. 

Now, I will hold my hands up and admit that the barrage of mainstream, gory tripe being churned out at the moment is abominable; but those aren't the films I'm talking about. Any device used without a heart or intention falls flat. Personally, I feel just as cheated by a rom-com which is all goo and no heart as I do by a horror which is (albeit graphic and literal) goo and no heart. I appreciate that just as I will rarely be buzzing to watch a romance film, equally there are people who are never going to enjoy watching a gory film; but my intention is not to convert - only to hope people will understand the genre. The transient gore films of today only exist to capitalise on the masterpieces that have gone before it. And masterpieces they are.

Fancy getting intellectually gory?

- The Fly (1986, Dir. David Cronenberg)

- Inferno (1980, Dir. Dario Argento)

Fancy getting rip-roaringly gory?

- Braindead (1993, Dir. Peter Jackson)

- Evil Dead (1981, Dir. Sam Raimi) 

Rothkoca-cola

A friend asked for a painting based on a silly poem I wrote and I thought it might be interesting to record the process.

I wrote the poem because we were at a play rehearsal and someone asked us if we could get them a can of coke seeing we had a break. Naturally, we couldn't be bothered so I said I'd write a poem about a can of coke to give to them instead; as this would not involve moving.

Ode to a Can of Coke - Apologies for the poor opening rhyme, me and my friend both picked a word/phrase we wanted in the poem prior to writing it; why I chose "vending" I do not know! I thought her choice of "ring pull" was inspired.

Thirst. I feel your clutch impending.
Could you, machine, some sweet release be vending?
I await you, from your prison tumbling.
Soon shall I be at your ring pull,
Fumbling. 

Betrayal!
You knew, I was a naive and eager fool.
Alas!
Here stand I shamed; and in a foaming, fizzing pool. 

Too soon I yearned for your refreshment.
Why did I not let you stand?

A spiteful lesson learned - oh victor,
No more you'll see me falter.
Next time I'll choose a truer friend,
Pure and loyal,
Water. 

I thought I'd have a look at an artist for some inspiration and settled on Rothko - in particular some of pieces he did around 1948.

Other reference images:

Evolution of a Painting 1: Miller's Crossing

After watching Miller's Crossing I was struck by how well composed the shots were and was not surprised to find out that the cinematographer came to working in film though stills photography. 

Therefore, I thought I'd try painting one of my favourite shots which would be challenging for me because I don't paint realistically very often. 

I thought this would also be a good time to experiment with showing the evolution of a piece through gifs.

Let me know what you think!

Gif: Final:

Brazil & Pippin: Optimism vs Pesimism

Summary

I had and impromptu film night with some friends earlier this week. They hadn't seen Brazil or finished watching a recording of the stage show Pippin. So one evening we settled down to watch these two, apparently, completely unrelated pieces. Little did we know their themes were surprisingly parallel and we couldn't have picked a more complementary yet eclectic couple of DVDs if we'd tried. 

Brazil is a fantasy comedy/drama made by Terry Giliam. If you don't know, Gilliam was a member of the Monty Python team and after having watched Brazil you will realise who was responsible for the wackier moments in Python. We also watched Pippin - a musical written by Stephen Swartz, though Pippin is pretty far removed from what you'd expect from the man now famous for writing Wicked. Indeed, if my friend hadn't pointed out they were written by the same person I doubt I would have ever made the connection - well, without the help of Wikipedia at least.  

What I mean is, Pippin was very Brechtian i.e. often breaking the fourth wall, referring to the fact the people on stage were actors, abstract sets and costume etc. This was not only unlike the style of Wicked, but also unlike what one would expect from a Broadway musical - possibly this is why it wasn't a Broadway musical for very long. A shame, I feel, as it was an exciting and innovative piece. Though I must admit I have no problem with Brechtian storytelling whereas some people find it alienating (which is actually a Brechtian technique, but not everyones cup of tea). 

Brazil, on the other hand, does not break the fourth wall however prepare to suspend your disbelief: a lot. Conceptually, I love it. An industrial future blended with a look of the 1940s. I think this helps make the audience feel more at ease in this bizarre world as although it is set in a strange future, we can still see knitted jumpers and painted billboards that make us feel at home. And as for the cast; just think of every actor who's amazing and British then add Robert DeNiro and you won't be far wrong. 

Both well worth watching and I liked them very much.

The Icarus Factor*

SPOILERS!!!

We all felt both pieces were very ambiguous as to whether they were optimistic or pessimistic; as both portray arguments for both. It would seem the question they pose is: 

Is it better to burn brighter for a short time than to burn dimly for a long time?

In Brazil the protagonist, Sam Lowry, has dreams about a mysterious woman who he imagines himself slaying embodiments of 'the system' to be with. He discovers she is in fact a real woman, and gives up everything to be with her leaving destruction in his wake. He ultimately only gets to be with her for one night before everything collapses around them. 

Pippin, I would say, is more ambiguous. Whereas Brazil has other tangents, Pippin focuses entirely on the question of extraordinary vs. ordinary and the pros and cons of each. The protagonist, Pippin, sets out to find meaning in his life. He is torn between conformity and what he supposes to be freedom - which is embodied by the (awesomely fabulous!) Leading Player who encourages Pippin in bouts of self expression and rebellion. While Pippin's life is fast and exciting when pursuing brilliance he reports to still feel empty. This begs him to ask the question: can I feel freedom without being tied down to something? A good, if not scary, question. 

The conclusion I drew from Brazil is that Gilliam favours the route of freedom. Of letting go and pursuing the dream. However, he still gives the viewer ample chance to consider both sides as he does portray the repercussions of pursuing the unbridled lifestyle pretty horribly. Sam got his dream woman; but only for one night then he was left with nothing. Pippin abandoned his dream, now compromised he has found some solace but we are left feeling he is still unfulfilled.

I suppose they are asking us: is it worth it? And I think the answer to that can only come from the viewer. 

There was one optimist among us who felt that Pippin, in particular, showed that being 'normal' didn't mean failure and we can all find happiness regardless of whether we are conforming or chasing our dream. Us pessimists thought that they both showed that in the end, most of us have to give up our dreams to avoid self destruction - and that is sad. 

Devotion is admirable but history teaches us that it is not sustainable. Even is this is the life we would wish for, are any of us actually brave enough to choose it? But does our not choosing it lead to un-fulfilment, or is there more to life than being extraordinary?

What do you think?

Update! 

Just watched Phantom of the Opera which is about the same subject! I think my brain is subliminally seeking out this theme after writing this post. 

Christine, the leading lady has rival love interests. Raoul represents conformity and stability whereas the Phantom represents artistic freedom and passion. As I adore the stage show for the understandable struggle Christine goes through, choosing between these two equal yet contrasting men/life choices, I am therefore not sure about the 2004 film. The Phantom is turned into a physically attractive and much less twisted character which, I think, diminishes from the originally more personality and ideals based struggle. Plus the Christine in that film is so bland I don't think strength and inner turmoil comes through at all. 

Stick to the stage show. The debate is better.

*If you know where I got "The Icarus Factor" from then you are awesome! And you win this fun and appropriate fact: Ben Vereen plays the lead in Pippin but you call also see him playing Geordi La Forge's dad in ST: The Next Generation.

A pair of jeans die. A bag is born.

Rainy day and I needed to throw out some old clothes. Got to chucking a pair of jeans and decided I would solve my lack of bags problem too.

Double Indemnity: Cinemas and Film Noir

My Cinema Experience 

So, a few weeks ago I was excited to learn that the Abbeygate Picturehouse in Bury has a film noir season going. As I had only realised this the morning of the showing I called to make sure there would be tickets. I thought there surely would be but I was not expecting to be told not one ticket had sold. Considering how many people were at a screening of Terminator Salvation I was unfortunate enough to attend, also in Bury,  I was somewhat saddened for the Picturehouse and for great films.

I arrive at the ticket desk and was astounded by what else was on offer: selections of beer, cider, soft drinks, sweets, popcorn, ice cream and cake (yes, CAKE) that made me want to apologies for selling out to Cineworld so often. I moseyed on in to the screening - me and the four other people that showed - with a huge bag of popcorn and a Leffe to sit on one of the chairs, but then I realised they also had sofas so I sprawled on one of those instead.


I can't speak for any of the other Picturehouse theatres but all in all I was not only impressed, but disappointed so few people are utilising it - including myself! All I can say is that - before you rush to Cineworld for the latest thing, maybe have a look at whats on at an Arts/Picturehouse cinema near you. You'll probably find the film is better and that nine times out of ten you'll be surrounded by film lovers who won't talk or answer their phone - hurray. 

My only criticism is that on the way out, my fellow film watchers were talking about how Barbara Stanwyck's fringe didn't look too good. My fringe looks a bit like hers. Unimpressed.



Double Indemnity

For starters, I totally confused myself for the first half an hour of the film by having mixed up the meaning of double jeopardy and double indemnity. Double jeopardy is where you cannot try someone again for a murder they've been convicted of. This is not what this film is about; Stella wins the dopey points for that one.

Double indemnity, on the other hand, is where the benificiary of a life insurance policy gets paid double if the policy holder dies in an accident. Fred McMurray plays Walter, a single insurance salesman with all the confidence and wise cracks you could wish for. Barbara Stanwyck is similarly silver tongued as the femme fatale, Phyllis - a young nurse who married the widower of one of her patients and is now restless. Given that, I'm sure you can all work out the basic premise of the plot. The two leads are solid throughout and have wonderful exchanges of dialogue that, as an actor, would strike fear into me for its improbability - but they make it seem totally normal. I now intend to work the line 'do I laugh now, or wait 'til it gets funny?' into my normal life; that and 'I wonder if you wonder.' Brilliant.

What caught me by surprise were the supporting actors. Edward Robinson as Keyes, Walter's crotchety but secretly kind hearted boss, absolutely steals the show for me; so funny and great pace. His match lighting method genuinely inspired me to find out if I could buy some non-saftey matches when I don't even smoke. Also, an endearing performance from Jean Heather as Lola, Phyllis' step-daughter. This could have easily been, I think, a somewhat throwaway character be she makes it charming and memorable. 

SPOILERS!!!

As for the plot, if you haven't worked out by now - Phyllis and Walter plan to get an insurance policy taken out on her husband with her as the beneficiary. Walter resists until he realises how lucrative the plan could be if they can stage a perfect accident resulting in the double indemnity payout. However, they are in jeopardy (not double jeopardy mind!) because even if they do attempt the plot, Keyes is such a brilliant investigator and friend of Walter's they may not be able to get around him (Keyes - he unlocks things, geddit??). 

END OF SPOILERS!!!

What happens??? I'm not going to tell you!! Why: because its was really fantastic I want you all to see it and revel in the tension and the wise cracks. Really understated tension too, lets the audience do the work. Similar to Notorious in that way; the director trusts that he has furnished the audience with all the necessary information for them to grasp the significance of relatively small occurences. My favourite in Notorious being when a man goes to hold the leading lady's hand and she manages to evade it. Sounds like nothing but if you know what's behind it; I nearly leapt at the screen in panic.

Lastly, ironically, its got a cracking opening titles. Ominous music with equally ominous shadows - puts you into the mood of the piece in a heart beat, or at least it did on the big screen; give it two heart beats on the small screen. 

All in all I'm going to be uncharacteristically enthusiastic and say 9/10. It just made it to a nine because of all the lines I want to quote and Edward Robinson.


What does everyone else think about cinemas and film noir?

Films - A New Strand

'Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.'

- Beckett

Having some time to myself has led me to review my blog.

I read the first post.

I wanted to set myself a challenge. Something that would stretch me and broaden my mind and understanding, and I think I've done that. Not only do I want to continue my original challenge but I'd like to start a new one -

Films for 2012

Premise: This year, I will watch as many of the films I've been meaning to see for years and post my responses to them. These responses may take the form of reviews, debates or art - who knows. I hope this project will force me to watch outside my ordinary taste margins and hopefully inspire some debate. And, if you're really pro-active you can watch the films I'm watching too!

Here's the list so far -

Rosencratnz and Guilderstern are Dead

Tootsie

Zelig

Duck Soup

The Fly (Cronenberg)

Taxi Driver

12 Angry Men

Raging Bull

A Face in the Crowd

Hausu

Throne of Blood

The Godfather 2

And the ones I've already ticked off the list and will be posting about are -

The Third Man

Double Indemnity

Miller's Crossing

Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (1956)

I was inspired to do this after watching an ongoing web series in which someone watches the films they always meant to, and discusses them with a friend (the two people happen to be improv comedians so the whole experience is pretty fun, link!). They reminded me that films shouldn't just be watched and then forgotten; they should be enjoyed with people and talked about.

So, that's what I've been doing and will be doing for the rest of this year - alongside periodical art instalments. 

Have any films you think should be on my list? Let me know.

Make your own list and tell me about it. 

Films! 

Yay!

Acceptance - A Question.

On reviewing my completion of my Art course, I've felt confused as to the reception of my work.
On the one hand I received praise for my exhibition, from both friends and the general public - yet I feel somewhat panned by the professional artists. I have no bones with anyones opinions - I'll make that clear - but it has made me consider the importance of acceptance. Should we worry about the endorsement of our contemporaries if what we're doing brings enjoyment to the intended audience?

Ignoring ones contemporaries is: A - lonelier and B - riskier. While it can fuel uniqueness and purity of vision (remember the saying: a horse designed by committee would be a camel?), it can lead to producing indulgent and 'rudderless' work. Take Vincent Van Gogh, only sold one painting in his lifetime. Think how awful it would have been if he'd have given in to the trend and cast the sunflowers aside. And yet, there is always the fear of becoming the other - an American sitcom writer*. Churning out the same generic material thinking that you're writing Seinfeld when you're actually writing the 23rd season of Will and Grace. But the ratings are too good for you to realise its bile.

The crux of the negativity seemed to come from a feeling that I didn't make it abundantly clear to the viewer exactly what I wanted them to think. Interestingly, something along these lines came up in a Coen Brothers related discussion I had recently. I am the sort of person that likes to find meaning in things - in this case, the use of circles and a hat in The Hudsucker Proxy and Miller's Crossing, respectively. My friend, who has seen more Coen Brothers than I, has come to the conclusion that the Coen Brothers include apparently loaded symbols that aren't actually loaded at all. They mean nothing. But then I suppose that means everything. These signs that lead to nowhere could be their reflection of their belief in the unpredictability of the universe. Things happen because of random chain of events. A man keeps dropping his hat in Miller's Crossing. Is a a symbolic representation of his true self being temporarily exposed, or is it because his hat doesn't have a handy bit of elastic on it? Who knows. But more importantly: who cares?

Does what the artist intended the viewer to think mean anything, so long as their work provokes them to think something? To the Coen brothers, the circles in The Hudsucker Proxy could have had the most in-depth, symbolic subtext imaginable; or they could have meant nothing. Does either intention malign the, possibly contrary, meaning I took from them - I would say, no.

I have had the belief for some time that what I think about something is secondary to the fact that it made me think. I believe this is why I was not so desperate to funnel viewers into one outcome of experience. I even included a feedback board as part of the exhibition because I felt strongly that what a viewer thinks of something is as important as the thing itself. Will this make my work weak and transient: maybe, but not definitely. I think perhaps my real intention was to make people think and find their own meaning. It's not an original intention. Its a dangerously broad intention. But perhaps its a more exciting one than knowing the outcome of people seeing your work before you've even started.

I'm not sure what I think. What do you think?

*The 'American-ness' is referring to the sitcom. I have nothing against American writers.