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| R.O.C. (40 plus one) by Julião Sarmento (2011) |
- Originally published in Now Then Issue#45, December 2011;
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| R.O.C. (40 plus one) by Julião Sarmento (2011) |
Therefore,
Censorship by third parties – that would’ve had nothing to do with the creative
process of the work in question – should have absolutely no place.
It’s unavoidable
that some will formulate, express and explore with better intentions than
others.
It’s the old
issue of Integrity in Art. But, not even the work of those who seek to exploit
and/or are devoid of discernment or talent should have to endure such
‘involuntary circumcisions’.
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| R.O.C. (40 plus one) by Julião Sarmento (2011) |
No one has the
right to stop someone else’s form of expression from being known to the rest of
the world. No one should be allowed or be given the power to dictate what can
or cannot be said or seen.
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| R.O.C. (40 plus one) by Julião Sarmento (2011) |
We’re all, by
default, recipients of what is put out there. Taste and interests may vary,
but, in principle, our right to experience, digest and even be offended by
unsavoury or challenging material should be unquestionable.
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| La Bête (1975) by Walerian Borowczyk |
A film which
succeeds in what it set out to express has, above all, to convince the viewer.
By convincing it may very well influence. Such influence can be on a
philosophical level, but also in the ways in which it can appeal to the
viewer’s personal morals and orientations.
In the Censor’s
mind, this is one tiny step away from corrupting. But, the way I see it, such
view is more like a giant, patronising, condescending leap that assumes an
awful lot about us and truly,
in fact, doesn’t want to encourage free thinking.
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| La Bête (1975) by Walerian Borowczyk |
Going back to the filmmaker’s perspective, it is very tempting to think of the Censor as someone with utter contempt for the efforts of artists. Yet, with this article, I’m setting out to present a democratic dissection of Censorship. This is why, unlike the old British Board of Film Censors’ practice of ‘cutting things out’, I’m choosing to splice in ‘evidence’ that may very well undermine my most fundamental points...
BBFC Evidence # 1
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| The Killing of Sister George (1968) by Robert Aldrich |
To the
exasperation of many, he would quite candidly express his biases and
predilections to do with art cinema, going even as far as to say that he
understood that part of the artist’s duty is to shock and provoke - that he
knew that ‘the artist is often ahead of their time’ and therefore he would
always encourage filmmakers to work in partnership with him. That way, he could
continue to simultaneously fulfill the core aspect of his duties: to protect the
British public.
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| The Killing of Sister George (1968) by Robert Aldrich |
Well... Sex, apparently.
Through the
years, the BBFC has enabled mainstream cinema to ‘get away with’, for instance,
a lot of violence. The problem is always when depictions of sex are thrown into
the equation.
The grounds on
which the Board determines if a film is suitable for consumption vary, but one
doesn’t need to look hard to spot sex as a key ingredient.
There seems to
be a self-perception in British Society which is informed by strict parameters
of what is decent. This moral-abiding trait is at the root of the BBFC and
other historical moralistic crusaders, with their attempts to dictate what is ‘proper’
and condemn what lies in its periphery...
Salò or The 120 Days of Sodom (1975), the last
film by the renowned Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini, was originally
submitted to the BBFC by its American distributors, United Artists, in January
1976.
In a nutshell,
the film is an extreme metaphor of what a totalitarian state can do to its
children. It explores such notion through transposing the Marquis de Sade novel
to a claustrophobic community where fascist figures of an older generation
indulge in the ritualised torture and degradation of a large group of
youngsters. Crucial to the impact that the film continues to have is not just
its slow-paced realistic depiction of the acts, but the adoption of the Circles
of Hell from Dante’s Inferno to its basic structure.
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| Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975) by Pier Paolo Pasolini |
BBFC Evidence #
2
Salò was to be
screened for the first time in Britain at the Old Compton St cinema club in 1977,
where it was viewed by members only, uncut and, crucially, without a BBFC
certificate.
When
the authorities raided the cinema and confiscated the print, the owners, who
were then facing legal action under the offence of common law indecency, tried
to appeal in an unexpected way.
In
their defence, they clarified that it was only after the advice of the Secretary
of the BBFC, James Ferman, that they decided to screen the film uncut.
So,
here’s what actually happened the year before: United Artists simply assumed
that cuts, no matter how extensive, would be enough to attain a certificate,
but James Ferman stood his ground, arguing that any form of editing would
undeniably 'destroy the film's purpose by making the horrors less revolting,
and therefore more acceptable'.
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| Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975) by Pier Paolo Pasolini |
This is a very rare case of a Censor
protecting the vision and ultimate intention of a filmmaker, by refusing to
excise a single frame from their work. By stepping forward in its defence the
following year - approaching the Deputy Director of Public Prosecutions and
exposing the legal action as one big embarrassment - Ferman was to make film
history.
What this most vilified figure of
British Cinema would become most known for though was his crusade against what
were to be labelled video nasties in the 1980’s.
The advent of Home Entertainment
delivered an onslaught of unregulated violence, gore and sex, which Ferman saw
his mission to curtail.
Crowning such titles (at least from the
perspective of cultural identity this article pursues) is Straw Dogs - Sam
Peckinpah’s 1971 masterpiece about a young couple’s descent into tribal
protection of territory in a downward spiral of violence set in rural England.
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| Straw Dogs (1971) by Sam Peckinpah |
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| Straw Dogs (1971) by Sam Peckinpah |
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| Straw Dogs (1971) by Sam Peckinpah |
The
key to what Peckinpah’s film expresses is ultimately the ‘discomfort’ a large
section of the British people feel around foreigners. Where I say discomfort,
some would say suspicion – which in turn is what leads the locals in Straw Dogs
to reject the American husband of one of their own.
Since
those panicky days, Straw Dogs has then been re-released uncut on the big
screen and is now available on various formats of Home Entertainment, with a
lot of its troubled history included as additional extra material for
cinephiles.
There
is a 1976 film that was not so much outright banned, but conveniently ignored
and was for decades unavailable to buy in the UK.
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| The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea (1976) by Lewis John Carlino |
If the boy can
be seen to be a young Norman Bates (spying on his mother through a hole in the
wall, as she seems to summon her future lover through masturbation and later
succumbs to his advances with sheer abandonment) and Kristofferson a perfect embodiment
of foreign masculinity, the strict hierarchy of the gang of schoolboys (with their
weariness towards change) can only be perceived as an extreme, unsettling
metaphor for British society.
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| The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea (1976) by Lewis John Carlino |
It’s the reserve
and general emotional containment that fuel my characters’ behaviour as they
wander through a modern world which has been carved by force onto the natural
one.
This is most
apparent in my 2006 feature film Antlers of Reason, where such disengagement
steps up a gear – when allied to murky psychological tapestries.
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| Antlers of Reason (2006) by João Paulo Simões |
Soon after its
completion, Antlers of Reason attained a limited distribution in cinema clubs
across the US. Back then, my views on the exploitation of artistic work were
certainly more ‘anarchic’, so I also placed the entire film online - available
to download for free and broken into reels on Youtube (which was still in its
infancy).
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| Antlers of Reason (2006) by João Paulo Simões |
What I know for
a fact, by having seen just a sample of the hate emails sent our way, is that
these raised voices were definitely singing the Evangelical Christian tune.
In America, it
only takes a few of those to be influential enough for you not to stand a
chance. So the already limited distribution was cancelled, radio shows stopped
talking about it and three of the reels which were streaming online to
thousands of hits per day were removed.
As a struggling,
independent filmmaker my only possible source of an answer was Youtube, but
this ‘most democratic of online hosts’ went from being generic in their replies
to apologising in a way which seemed to say: ‘Don’t ask any more questions.’
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| Antlers of Reason (2006) by João Paulo Simões |
The Antlers of
Reason narrative revolves around a progressively destructive affair between a support
worker and her client – an inarticulate foreigner on the fringes of society. At
a certain point, she’s seen falling asleep whilst waiting for him and her dream
(or flashback) portrays a less consensual sexual encounter between them.
As it’s been
noted, she’s never seen to wake from her dream, but moments later, does get up,
clearly bruised inside, on the spot where the ‘rough’ encounter took place and
the narrative then proceeds.
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| Antlers of Reason (2006) by João Paulo Simões |
What is clear is
that hardcore Christians don’t do shades of grey...
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
The film’s
sexual violence and moral obscenity has been initially rejected by the BBFC,
which banned it outright, but that decision was recently reversed, when its UK
Distributors, Eureka Entertainment, ordered to remove a total of 2 minutes and
37 seconds.
These cuts seem
to have been applied on the aspects of the content that most concerned the
BBFC: graphic imagery of a character’s teeth being removed with a hammer, of
the killing of a newborn baby, etc, etc.
It is very clear
to read in the director’s own words, that these scenes were designed as an
invitation to that initial UK ban. It makes for a great marketing calling card
– when violence and gore have been so easily incorporated into the mainstream
via such films as the Saw and Hostel series.
He created the perfect
bait and the BBFC gobbled it... There are still ways of seeing the uncut
version, but I am choosing to exercise a personal ban on the grounds of: lack
of time, everything about it looking pretty contrived and the director being
called Tom Six.
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
ANTICHRIST
- Originally published in Now Then Issue#18, September 2009;
As a filmmaker who has
encountered a certain degree of controversy and a considerable amount of moral
judgement in my own work, I went into the screening of Antichrist really wanting to empathise with it.
It is impossible for a number of
reasons, but none of them related to the aspects the film has most been
attacked for. The real sex, the excruciating torture, the maiming of male
genitals followed by the penis ejaculating blood and the shocking
clitoridectomy in extreme close-up could all still be there - with even more
intensity, if needed be, and serving pretty much the same purposes.
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
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| Antichrist (2009) by Lars von Trier |
The final dedication to filmmaker
Andrei Tarkovsky is the ultimate offense and a definite embarrassment. It does
not legitimise such immature piece of filmmaking.
THE MATTER OF HYPE (VOLUME II):
NYMPHOMANIAC.
- Originally published in Now Then Issue#75, June 2014;
There’s one thing someone should’ve said
to Lars Von Trier - and not just before he made his latest film, Nymphomaniac.
This should’ve been said to little pre-pubescent Lars, who undoubtedly amused
and entertained grown-ups with his cleverness: you’re not as funny as you think
you are.
Like its director, Nymphomaniac is a
film which seems to think it’s a lot of things – among them, funny – but it’s
not...
I thought long, but not very hard, whether
I should watch it at all (let alone write about it). His utterly pointless
Antichrist (2009) still casts a long shadow and, seriously, running at 4 hours
of length, I wasn’t sure I could afford the commitment. Yet, the film had
already found its way to these pages, as it served as a template for previous
dissection of the current nature (and matter) of hype (NT#66).
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| Nymphomaniac (2013) by Lars von Trier |
In a smart manipulation of film forums
and social media alike, they released a sneak preview of each of the film’s
chapters every month - in a countdown to the premiere. Amidst the patchiness of
aesthetics, tone and intention was what seemed to be a gem: a glimpse into
Chapter 7, entitled The Mirror.
As someone who takes Cinema (and its
history) seriously, I cringed at yet another reference to the finest filmmaker
that ever lived (Andrei Tarkovsky), but the content did surprise me.
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| Nymphomaniac (2013) by Lars von Trier |
The understanding of the cinematic potential
of the character’s circumstances seemed remarkable and brought to mind Von
Trier’s once impressive incisiveness.
But, that, together with a well-edited
Official Trailer, were to become nothing but unfulfilled promises in what
turned out to be an overlong, hopelessly weak film...
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| Nymphomaniac (2013) by Lars von Trier |
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| Nymphomaniac - Director's Cut (2013) by Lars von Trier |
Some jumped on the apparent unapologetic
feminism at the core of the film and have used it to validate it. Others can’t
get over the fact that for an over-hyped film about sex, there’s not that much
of it in sight at all...
So what is actually wrong with it?
The previous aforementioned Filmreel
reference to the film noted that ‘the only truly commendable quality of
Nymphomaniac is its (..) identification with Von Trier’s finest trait: not
caring in the slightest for what we think.’
Having seen it, I can now say that for
something which appears not to care, the film does try, desperately and
throughout, to convince us.
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| Nymphomaniac (2013) by Lars von Trier |
And that’s problem number two, right
there: for a film which takes a literary structure, Nymphomaniac is too
literal. Whilst sections of the dialogue flow well enough through some great
acting, the constant trivia and self-analysis (which hints perhaps at a vague,
but never fully realised, post-modernistic angle) results in the most contrived
of narrative devices.
But there’s more.
Self-reference is only interesting if it
helps a given film in some capacity. Here, it’s used either out of arrogance
(the distinction between anti-Zionist and anti-Semitic being an obvious dig at
the Cannes reactions to director’s previous remarks about Hitler) or personal
vanity (nods at previous works in the shape of child neglect or red PVC shorts
over fishnet tights).
The use of music is appalling. Not even
bringing Bach into the equation (in the film’s only decent analogy - between
the protagonist’s apparently random activities and the composer’s cerebral
polyphony), rescues or elevates the half-baked material.
As for the ludicrous ending, well, the
reliance on a pun – connecting the narrative to the lyrics of a popular song –
is something you would find in a bad student film.
EGOYAN AND ME.
- Originally published in Now Then Issue#83, February 2015;
‘When all this is over, there’s nothing
of me that you will be able claim as yours...’
This is not a direct quote. These words
are a thought, easily formulated by any survivor of a psychological or physical
ordeal. It’s a refusal to remain a victim. It’s inner strength’s own private
statement - not to allow the rest of one’s existence to be dictated by the
singularity of an event or circumstances.
It was with a confident smile that I
offered a version of this thought to my academic experience.
Overall, my film education was far from
traumatic, but I remember clearly the all-encompassing sense of disenchantment,
the disappointment with the lack of genuine stimulation of one’s talent and the
absolute outrage when witnessing my grades being lowered for not seeking a
specific tutor’s approval.
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| Psalter Lane Campus - Photograph by Jon Barton@v-graphics |
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| The Adjuster (1991) by Atom Egoyan |
Slow pace was in perfect harmony with
the gradual reveal of intentions in his completely character-driven films. With
great recognition, I would also witness, film after film, his sobriety of tone and
precise aesthetics – akin to David Cronenberg’s (a fellow cerebral Canadian) –
and his understanding of the cinematic potential of the opacity of the human
face – of which Michelangelo Antonioni (who redefined Modern Cinema) was master.
But, above all, I would recognise something a lot less tangible...
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| Exotica (1994) by Atom Egoyan |
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| The Sweet Hereafter (1997) by Atom Egoyan |
Despite being rich in details that I
admired and appreciated for being quintessential Egoyan, the aspects connecting
the much-disputed Armenian genocide of 1915 at Turkish hands with fictionalised
personal trajectories were uncomfortably heavy-handled. The lack of subtlety
which punctuated the film throughout was evidence of a director being too close
to the material.
Then along came 2005’s Where the Truth
Lies, the campiness of which sealed my unconscious farewell to his work. Almost
ten years would go by, with his subsequent films being glimpsed from afar. Until
now...
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| The Captive (2014) by Atom Egoyan |
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| The Captive (2014) by Atom Egoyan |
So, what are the reasons for its poor reception?
From the booing at the last Cannes Film
Festival to the general consensus of most reviews, the film has taken a serious
beating - which does not correspond to the undeniable quality of filmmaking displayed.
The only two so-called justifications
for this could have something to do with, firstly, the fact that Dennis
Villeneuve’s delayed release of the similarly-themed Prisoners (2013)
overlapped with its appearance; and, second but more importantly, with an
audience’s perception.
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| The Captive (2014) by Atom Egoyan |
Why is The Captive great for me?
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| The Captive (2014) by Atom Egoyan |
The very familiar fascination with the
procedural, the well-observed human behaviour leading to questionable methods
under duress and the perfect understanding of grief – it’s all there.
As the narrative moves back and forth in
time, echoes of his best previous films made me smile – like a re-acquaintance
with the special traits of an old friend.
The new policeman joining the task force
having to gaze upon unseen imagery of child abuse and torture is not unlike the
customs officer in Exotica, who’s taught to read people from behind a one-way
mirror. The cold assessment of grief and trauma evokes The Adjuster. The
placing of it against the blank backdrop of a snowy landscape is straight from
The Sweet Hereafter. And, from the same film, also comes the paradoxical
nurturing of the artistic talent of a girl (on the brink of womanhood), on the
part of her abuser.
The acting is so perfectly-tuned – from
Kevin Durand’s terrifying presence to Mireille Enos’s powerhouse of barely
contained emotion – that, in the non-verbal finale, there’s a thought you can
clearly read on a face made less opaque: ‘There’s nothing of me that you are
able claim as yours...’
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| The Captive (2014) by Atom Egoyan |
TACTILE THOUGHTS.
- Originally published in Now Then Issue#81, December 2014;
If you’re a parent, you worry. And for
the rest of your life, apparently...
If, like me, you’re a father working in
the visual arts, the digital age poses a myriad of conflicting questions – for
which definite answers are few and far between.
There is, nonetheless, an issue that has
been recently formulated in my mind. This is my attempt at some sort of
answer...
1.0. Voyeurism
Much to the discomfort of many, my film
output tends to emphasise the unquestionable voyeuristic nature of Cinema. It’s
not quite or just a matter of seeking complicity with the viewer, within
contexts which would otherwise shock or challenge. If I had to put it
figuratively, it’s like the film basically ‘slows down where it is and takes a good
look at itself’.
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| Victim (2011) by João Paulo Simões |
An audience’s engagement is a fragile
thing and, in the eyes of many, I’m already stretching it thin. But, one
fundamental truth remains: no art form should remain complacent with what
became established as its primary function.
Enter the dirty word Entertainment and
its ‘recent’ bastard child - the popular/populist device that is 3D.
Bringing the illusion of that third dimension
to the foreground is a ridiculous gimmick that makes children of us all.
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| Adieu au Langage 3D (2014) by Jean-Luc Godard |
3D is designed to function as an
immediate satisfaction that is merely sensorial. Steroids for the senses, which
tease a non-existent interactivity, but that, nonetheless are detrimental to
imagination and curiosity.
But, one could argue that this is a
reflection of the era we’re living in. Instant gratification through digital
accessibility... The ever growing interactivity of video games... Technology
made tactile with immediate responses on tablets and other mobile devices...
All a few taps of the index finger away. And the much demonised – but surely
dangerous playground that is – the Internet, offering the ability to share so
much and experience so little...
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| Tomás Briar's World in Minecraft |
Voyeurism is still going strong, but it
has transmuted itself into a playfulness that removes vast layers of depth from
the imagination. It’s not that children and teenagers of today are genetically
lacking something my generation thrived on. It’s the fact that fantasy appears
before their eyes on demand; that the healthy and truly creative exercise of
feeding the mind through the gaze, with greater physical detachment is no more.
2.0. To Be Streamed
Streaming - the epic feature-length horror
project I’m developing for release in 2016 - is an extreme ode to the spiritual
death of voyeurism. It’s a kaleidoscopic, futuristic and multi-stranded film
that encompasses all of the above concerns and more. Yet, to make it current it
needs to be brutal, horrific and explicit – all ingredients to which we’ve been
desensitised (in the shape of beheadings gone viral, of religious-motivated
atrocities made easily replaceable on newsfeeds or of ‘cell phone leaks’ exposing
celebrities as weary, vulnerable and imperfect as anyone else).
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| Streaming (2017) by João Paulo Simões |
The film places it in direct parallel
with a digital generation’s common inability to be aware of the manipulation
they’re suffering.
3.0. Cinema as Memory
Yet, the crucial aspect of Streaming is embodied
in its central character.
Phalanx is a man turned omniscient
conscience, whose ulterior motives remain a mystery. He’s the piece of software
few know the name of; the necessary evil for a larger structure to function.
And he’s also presented as someone who lives simultaneously in the Past,
Present and Future.
This is a supernatural, but vastly
important trait, which will guide us in the deeper understanding of what the
film has to say.
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| Streaming (2017) by João Paulo Simões |
My view is that this is currently being
more than challenged. It’s being corrupted by technological devices that have
nothing to do with the art itself.
The actual fabric of an art form is
being tampered with. And generations are being born into it – with the innate
assumption that Cinema is there to serve them...