This film was very intense, I had no idea what to expect when watching it. It was in another language, about a family reunion, and seemed like the perfect set up for a murder mystery film. And them that huge bomb dropped at dinner, that Christian’s father had raped, molested, and sexually abused him and his twin sister when they were young. I remember looking around class during this part of the film and seeing other people doing the same thing in shock and amazement. That changed the whole film from then on out, and everything was much more dark, whereas before it almost passed as a light-hearted comedy. Kinda like that family reunion no one wants to go to. I love my family, but I wouldn’t enjoy having one of them singing a long, sad song while I’m waiting for my food. I liked the film a lot and I noticed that it was made in the Vow of Chastity manner of Dogme 95.

I could not disagree more with the “Vow of Chastity” and it’s rules. In the reading they say “film is dead, and needs Resurrection.” I can’t think of a faster way to kill off an entire art form than to make all films in that manner. This particular film was not boring and was made this way, but calling for all films to be this way is absolutely absurd, for many reasons. For one thing, it is possible to make something that is realistic without those rules, just because you have lighting and sound added in does not make the film less real, if anything it can make it more real by taking away from poor audio and poor video quality.  Secondly, people do not go to the movies to see things that are pure reality and have nothing new to offer them. Film is an escape, and making films in this manner I personally think would get, well, boring.  I’m not saying all films should be made by Michael Bay (poor guy gets so much crap, but he makes movies for teenagers, whatever) but there is nothing wrong with adding effects to achieve realism, or to add to a film. With this rule thousands of the best films ever made would not have been “allowed,” I know they were not calling for a total overhaul of film, but I think there rules were too strict. Very often it is the unreal that makes a film better (the CGI in Jurassic Park looks real, and is the main reason people went to see that movie… and the soundtrack to many films are there best qualities.)

Nick Tassoni

I found myself feeling anxious as Helene and the hotel receptionist looked around the room of Helene’s deceased sister, with Helene commenting that she felt her presence in the room. The Vow of Chasity stipulates that “the film must not contain any superficial action” (UFT 113). Vinterberg is able to conjure discomfort in the viewer without the help of an animated apparition, or otherwise fabricated fabricated figure simply through suggestion. He suggests that a spirit is present through the handheld overhead shots of Helene stepping into the bathroom. Similarly, during Christian’s dream sequence, Vinterberg skates around creating a superficial scene by grounding it in reality, i.e. the incessant ringing of the phone in the hotel room. Again, in Christian’s dream, his sister is not a computer generated ghost, but is instead made to look like an apparition with only the flame of a lighter to illuminate her face. Deren nods to Vinterberg’s techniques when she describes how the absence of an actor in cinema (unlike in theatre–where the presence of an actor is a necessity) can contribute to a greater sense of reality for the viewer (CV 66).

This convention of The Vow of Chastity, although seemingly limiting, still offers immense creativity on the part of the filmmaker. Vinterberg’s suggestion of a spirit, through the exploration of the deceased’s former bedroom, or her appearance in a dream, achieves expressive qualities that even the best CGI cannot match.

As I watched The Celebration (1998), I felt like an outsider looking in. There were shots that almost reminded me of surveillance video. When Helene and her friend were lifting the white sheets off of the furniture in her dead sisters room, the shot was from upper ceiling corner. It just seemed like we weren’t actually there, but rather watching from a far. I started to think maybe the shot was supposed to be from the perspective of the dead sister. It was her room when a lot of these sort of shots were used, so maybe it was because she was looking in on them.

The directors Vow of Chastity says that, “My supreme goal is to force the truth out of my characters and settings. I swear to do so by all means available and at the cost of any good taste and any aesthetic considerations”(690-1). The film was truthful and showed the reality because it followed the ten rules.  However, because of the jump cuts and dramatic change of shots, I was very aware of the camera. I am not sure if that is because I was there to analyze the film, but the sense of reality and truthfulness seemed to slip away because of that awareness.

Well, if I have any one thing to say about The Celebration (1998) is that it made me more uncomfortable than perhaps any other film. Of course, the subject matter is highly uncomfortable, and that was certainly a major part of my reaction, but the Vow of Chastity made it far moreso. Going through the ten rules, it seems that the film follows all of them

Shooting must be done on location: I can’t say for sure on this one. It was a mansion in the woods. No location more broadly is really given, but the mansion certainly seemed to be real. As far as Deren’s controlled accident is concerned, this gave the film a firm grounding in reality and lent truth to the actions.

Sound must not be produced apart from images: Again, I can’t be sure since they could have had excellent editors make it seem like everything was natural, but everything sounded natural. Birds chirping, people talking, realistic sounds of cars on the road and fists hitting flesh. Knowing that this film was done with this rule in mind, every punch and slap and crash was definitely just as painful as it sounded.

The camera must be handheld: While not all of the shots were done with cameras in hands, as some were clearly from mounted cameras, any moving shots had a shaky-cam quality. The whole thing felt voyeuristic because of that. Like Helene’s boyfriend, we are not part of this family. We don’t even speak the language. We just came in at this seemingly random point in this family’s life and saw it fall apart under heavy circumstances. The handheld camera made me feel like I shouldn’t be there for this private family event.

Film must be in colour – special lighting is not permitted: The film was in color, and the fact that everything seemed to be half in shadows indicated to me that there was no special lighting added in. Again, this added to the feeling that I was watching something real happening, not a film, which made the action that much more uncomfortable.

Optical work and filters are forbidden: It could be that any editing was done brilliantly, but the only editing I noticed at all aside from transitions were a few cuts within scenes.

The film must not contain any superficial action: No one died, all of the violence felt naturally evoked given the characterization of the participants, and every hit looked and sounded completely real. As mentioned with the sound, this made me that much more uncomfortable, as now not only are these seemingly real characters being hurt, I know the actors are actually being struck, as well.

Temporal and geographical alienation are forbidden: There were no temporal references, really, aside from perhaps the datedness of Christian’s cell phone and the style of cars. If it weren’t for the cell phone, I don’t think I would have been able to tell when exactly the film takes place. With the phones, I can believe that it was the late 1990’s, and certainly no later than the early 2000’s. This also kept the film close because these kinds of things absolutely happen. Michael’s racism and sexism exist. People sexually abuse their children. It is absolutely a modern and relevant issue, if not incredibly prominent.

Genre movies are not acceptable: Frankly, I have trouble identifying a genre for this movie aside from “drama.” There weren’t many indicators of well-known patterns for me to follow, so every event was a surprise.

The film format must be Academy 35mm: The film wasn’t made digitally, that much I can tell from the quality and cigarette burns at the cuts. I can’t say what exact film it was made on, but I have no trouble accepting that this was it.

The director must not be credited: I didn’t see all of the credits, and didn’t think to take note of what I did. I know Vinterberg made the film, but I don’t know if he was credited in the film itself.

In sum, this film took an outrageously uncomfortable and completely plausible concept and pushed it on us in a style that made it feel like we were watching real people go through this and that we shouldn’t be watching them. It was immersive and real, much moreso than many of the other “realistic” films I know.

I don’t know about anyone else, but after our discussion in class today and looking over the text on performative documentary once more, I can’t help but think of the popular site Humans of New York. Performative documentary seeks to showcase the subjectivity and emotion that certain individuals or groups feel. While I haven’t seen Paris is Burning, I can gather from what was said in class that the purpose of the documentary was to shed light onto an otherwise marginalized group of people (cross-dressers living in New York). I think this desire to highlight individuals and their unique experiences is at the heart of performative documentary. In the article, Nichols writes: “though sharing the preference for the local, the concrete, and the evocative, performative documentary also generally insists on the dialectical relationship between precisely this kind of richly and fully evoked specificity and overarching conceptual categories such as exile, racism, sexism, or homophobia.” What is so special and different about performative documentary is the desire to shed light on otherwise marginalized groups that do not necessarily fit into the “master narrative” of history. Furthermore, this style of documentary comes at a time when technology is more readily accessible to the masses. In the 1980s and 1990s, people could start affording cameras and using them; at this moment in time, there was less of a reliance on those who dictate the master narrative to also produce the films that reinforce the master narrative.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call the work that Humans of New York produces performative documentary in and of itself; I’m sure there are problems there in terms of the different theories behind photographs vs. films. However, I do see a lot of parallels between the two. Both possess a desire to showcase marginalized groups and give a glimpse into their subjectivity. Overall, HONY gives a smaller look into the subjectivity of those photographed. But, at its strongest, the captions of the photos have emotional stories of one’s past or one’s aspirations. HONY seems to, in part, seek to challenge the master picture (or narrative) that people have of New York and instead demonstrate how diverse New York actually is.

Also similarly to performative documentary, as was mentioned in class, the subjectivity lies in both what is being presented and how a viewer interprets the images. Certainly looking at the comments on images, one can see how the viewer is given the freedom to draw their own conclusions on the stories presented before them. We as the viewers are not usually shown the question that the person I asked, nor are we always shown everything they say; sometimes we are only given a line or two from the subject of the photo, and are left to draw our own conclusions about what they mean. Like performative documentaries, this can lead to multiple interpretations given our own perspectives and biases.

Upon reading chapter 6 of UFT, I found a newfound interest and respect for realism filmmakers/artists/performers. There is a great story in the book about Dustin Hoffman and Laurence Olivier filming Marathon man where Hoffman took the method, internal approach to create his character while Olivier took the external, histrionic theatrical approach to external acting. His response to Hoffman’s weird performance techniques was “Try acting, dear boy.”

I’m of two camps when it comes to realism. I don’t want to sound like a pretentious art-house loving cinema goer who refuses to support big-budget Hollywood material because it manipulates images and presents typical effects driven, popcorn fun. I love movies like that and often NEED them when I just want to escape and be entertained. But there are certain stories, subject matters, and projects that really need attention to realism and verisimilitude to succeed. Most Oscar films we see attempt the realism approach, which is why they are rewarded at the ceremony. A recent example, American Sniper, works because Eastwood wants to create images that reflect middle east warfare and Cooper trained 12 hours a day for months to truly transform into a believable Chris Kyle. Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List are two Spielberg examples of candid, realistic images exposing the rawness of the story far more than a commercial friendly approach to warfare or the horrors of World War II.

I’m looking forward to discussing realism in class. Most of my favorite performers are method actors. I prefer truthful, realistic performance style to over-the-top, theatrical delivery. Dicaprio, De Niro, and Nicholson are good modern examples of method actors who will go to great lengths to ensure accuracy in their performances. That’s why when I watch (certain) films of theirs, I am amazed at how they can transform themselves into these characters. That comes from within. For Dicaprio to go from a Rhodesian diamond smuggler to Jordan Belfort believably is nothing short of ridiculous.

After looking more in depth at Tzevtan Todorovs article, Structural Analysis of Narrative, I want to go back to the one of the topics of conversation on Monday about Henry James’ idea of a pure narrative and pure dialogue along with the idea that ” a novel is a living thing, all and continuous, like any other organism . . .” After reading the page from Henry James’ essay, The Art of Fiction, I slowly began to understand what he was trying to say.  I think what we as a class began to understand was that James believed that there are many different parts to a story, like an organism, and these parts all collaborate and constantly work together to maintain a state of homeostasis. Todorov believes differently and calls James’ statement a “dubious comparison between a work and a living thing.” Todorov is doubtful of this comparison because he thinks that parts (dialogue and description) of a novel do not necessarily need to exist in a pure state for them to be successful and for them to work as a story. Stories have the capability to be abstract and the success of these stories is not driven only by the fact of the incorporation or removal of pure aspects of a novel.

After screening Maqbool in class, it was evident that much was changed from the source material in order to fit the new locale of the Bombay underworld. The main adjustment I noticed was the dismissal of the supernatural. While we still got some nervous, guilty hallucinations from Maqbool, the characters of the witches were switched to crooked police officers. This is a necessary change because that type of supernatural, while easy to accept in a play, is going to be strange and out of place in a film like Maqbool. Often today, one of the main reasons for change and disloyalty to source material when following the process of adaptation is the inconsistency of what is believable and accepted in the source format to what is acceptable on screen.

A huge trend in today’s Hollywood system is the emergence of the comic book film. In the past five years we have seen both Marvel and DC release films based upon their popular comic book heroes. In the adaptation though, things have to be changed to account for the differences in what is believable in a comic book and what is believable in a film. Hugh Jackman has played the famous Wolverine character in seven films yet we have never seen him in the classic Wolverine blue and yellow costume. This is because that would look goofy and ridiculous on the screen. The costume would completely crash with everyone the character represents. It would completely take the audience out of the film.

Arguably the most famous, successful, and acclaimed comic book adaptation of our time is Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy. Nolan is praised for creating a world where it seems both realistic and believable that a superhero such as Batman could and does exist. He even brings back many characters from the comic books. Robin, Batman’s famous sidekick, makes an appearance in the final installment of the trilogy, yet he never appears in the famous red and green tights. He simply cannot because although that is seen as normal in the source material, The movie versions call for a dark and grittier surrounding and Robin simply cannot be showing up in a green speedo.

This all brings up the question of how we can find a rebellious antihero wearing a ridiculous yellow jumpsuit acceptable in a comic book but would disapprove of it in a film. You could argue that a comic book platform is not held to the same standards when it comes to realism. They may have certain rules that don’t have to be spoken such as the fact that heroes wear tights. A film universe, however, has to start from the beginning. It has to recreate the universe the comic book established but it has to do so at the realism standards that we expect from Hollywood blockbusters. We are often quick to jump at the main problem of adaptation being its inability to maintain the orginal prose of a novel or encapsulate all of the action of a longer source material that could never fit in the two hour constraint of a film. An overlooked “issue” with adaptation, however, could be this inconsistency of realistic expectations. This may not even be an issue as much as it is an argument for why we cannot judge a film against its source material. It is a further argument for how a film is an original piece of art and should not be compared to its source material but rather just said to be different.

As someone who’s never read or seen Macbeth I was not sure what to expect from an Indian remake. I enjoyed the film, and after reading a summary of the play it makes more sense than it did before. I got lost while watching the film once or twice, I never do well with subtitles. But after reading the summary I can see that the film followed the play rather closely.

Fidelity is an interesting concept, does retaining more from the original work make something more valuable? One example I always think of when thinking about adaptation and Fidelity is Harry Potter. The first two films follow the book almost exactly, but are they the best films? No!  The third is, and it cuts out from the book than the first two films did. So does Fidelity really matter? Could Maqbool have been more different from the original work and still have been a good film?

Another thing, something I brought up in class is what do we value more? An original work of art or an adaption? The movies this summer that most people are excited to see are adaptations, reboots, and sequels (Jurassic World, Star Wars episode VII, Avengers 2, Cinderella, Divergent 2, Fast and Furious 7, The Hunger Games, ect.) But some cool original films will be coming out too. Which are “better?”

I’d like to get some opinions on a question. Would Maqbool have been a better/worse film if it wasn’t adapted from Macbeth? I know it would be a different film, but would this have worked well as a standalone “mobster” movie?

Nick Tassoni

After reading the Stam piece on adaptation I immediately thought that anyone who chooses to adapt a film has to be truly confident in themselves because, as Stam points out, adaptations are lightning rods for criticism and judgement. Part of the reason this occurs is because when we as viewers watch film adaptations of a novel we judge it solely on whether the adaptation has remained faithful to the original and has preserved the essence of the story. This technique of judging a film adaptation may seem logical but if you analyze this process further it becomes clear that this method is flawed because in literature, “there is no such transferable core: a single novelistic text comprises a series of verbal signals that can generate a plethora of possible readings, including even readings of the narrative itself” (Corrigan 545).  Literary works are complex entities that cannot easily be characterized by one central theme or idea, which is why it is useless to judge an adaption solely on its infidelity to the original. Take Maqbool (2003) for example.  At the beginning of this film the director Vishal Bhardwaj states in the opening titles that Maqbool is based on Shakespeare’s version of Macbeth, which right off the bat causes the viewer to juxtapose the film with the story of Macbeth and judge it’s cinematic worth based on how closely the story arc sticks to the original Macbeth storyline. In the case of Maqbool the story retains many of the main elements of the story but the change of setting, shift in gender of characters from female witches to male police officers, and alterations to the dialogue. I viewed this as a strong cinematic choice because these alterations to the story of Macbeth serve to make the film more original, but many fans of Shakespeare who view this film would likely be incredibly critical of it because it doesn’t conform to the original storyline and therefore may even been seen as a failure. Herein lies the struggle of the adaptation: if you change too many elements of the story you are being unfaithful but if you adapt a text word-for-word you are viewed as unoriginal.

The struggle of the adaptation makes it very difficult for filmmakers to pull off a successful adaption because there is a overwhelming expectation that the film must stay true to the heart of the story, but what audiences sometimes struggle to understand is that when a book or play is translated onto the screen it becomes an entirely new art form and therefore such be regarded as a separate piece of work. Stam points this out on page 543 of his essay where he says, “an adaptation is automatically different and original due to the change of the medium”. I think if we as audience members were to view adaptations in this regard we would come to appreciate them more and be less critical because we wouldn’t bring preconceived notions to the film and would instead just judge it based on whether we think it is a good film that has told a compelling story.