Death of the Author

In his essay "Death of the Author", Roland Barthes argues that the author is not the important part of understanding a writing.  It is instead the reader who is crucial to the interpretation, as it is only theirs that matters.  He asks to carefully remove the author from his work, as not to limit our interpretive abilities.  He states that a text's meaning "does not in its origins, but in its destination".  This means that it is not the author's styles and continuity between projects that we should critique writing on, but that we should think about what it means to us as readers.

The western film is known for the classic ride-into-the-sunset ending, which “My Darling Clementine” twists so subtly, but so interestingly. From the title of the movie to the character’s interactions throughout, we can fairly assume that Wyatt and Clementine end up together. In most of his movies, Ford would have set them towards the sunset on the same horse. Instead, they share their love for each other – ever so delicately – and then Wyatt simply kisses her and leaves. At first glance, this seems cold for Wyatt to do, especially after we have seen his humanistic greatness throughout the film. With context, however, this ending becomes more profound and reasoned. Before this film was made, Ford served in the military during World War II. Wyatt’s departure can be mirrored to Ford’s goodbye to Hollywood before the war; while they are both riding away to do their duties, they will undoubtedly return to the thing that they love and, especially in Ford’s case, we know how powerfully they reappear.

I have recently been reading the novel Trainspotting and I am just blown away by how unique of book it is.  Firstly, the way it is written to mimic Scottish dialects is a challenging aspect, but I have never read anything like it.  The book changes perspective many times, which really changes the way that we see these characters as a whole.  For example, many of the different narrators love Rents, arguably the main character so far but really, who knows at this point in the book.  Anyways, these narrators' love is not shared by all.  One of his sober friends who narrates a chapter, for example, hates his fucking guts.  I am so far engrossed by the book and I strongly recommend it but be warned: it is not your average book, in a formal or thematic sense.

Raised By Indians: Last of the Mohicans

The article "Raised By Indians", by Keith Phipps, accurately describes why the film worked and was a success, and where improper filmmaking methods could have sunk the movie.  He explains that research and liberties taken from source material have established "Last of the Mohicans" as a film that is both believable and enthralling.  He adds that, obviously so, the performance of Daniel Day-Lewis made the movie what it was: a respectful portrayal of Native American life.  Daniel's performance gives the Hawkeye character a perfect human sensibility, a blend of the "best" of two very different cultures.  He guides us through the film, helping us to make sense between the violence.  With Natives killing Natives, white people killing other whites, and both cultures clashing at the same time, it is a godsend to have a character like Hawkeye.  He helps us understand where our allegiances as a viewer should be placed within the film, as with all of the violence, it is otherwise unclear.  The internal cultural symbiosis of Hawkeye helps us to make sense of the bloody story.

This brief scene from Ford's "The Searchers" gives us more insight into the white-man-turned-native character.  In this instance, we have a female who was forcefully taken from her culture and thrown into marriage with a Comanche leader.  As with Hawkeye, she is loyal to "her people" and will not leave them at any costs.  In Debbie's case, this is rather shocking considering the way that she has been treated by Scar.  I don't think that John Ford, in a rare misstep, handled this scene properly.  She was cold to her brother's loving concern; at one point she razzes her brother for not coming to rescue her, and here he was in front of her.  After Martin and Ethan's journey, mixed with our knowledge of her savage mistreatment, I was shocked with the way that she responded.  I was expecting a hug and kisses and an immediate ride into the sunset.  I have tried to justify this scene by reasoning with myself that she was brainwashed, in a sense, but it does not seem like an accurate representation.  More precisely, it is a rare Ford substitution of drama for realism.

I have just finished reading "The Amalgamation Polka", the fourth and final book, to date, written by Stephen Wright (not the comedian, guys).  The novel concerns Liberty Fish, the son of two abolitionists living in New York, and follows him through his young life, into his time as a Union soldier, and his eventual desertion to visit his estranged grandparents, who own a plantation in Carolina.  The book is very much like Wright's other works, surreal, sublime, and expository road novels with a great deal of attention to feelings and truths, rather than to plot.  As with all of his other works, Wright has included here another overwhelmingly long chapter that pays homage to Conrad's "Heart of Darkness".  While I am very desensitized to Wright's signature homage to this process of "going native", this one seemed so fresh and full of characterization.  I do not want to give too many details, as it is such a rewarding passage to read, if you can make it through.  I can say that Wright's novels usually end up saying something grand, in a sublime manner, concerning the meaning of life.  And with this novel, for the first time, I have wholly understood his literary intentions.                     

Shadow of a Doubt and Stoker

In Danny King's writings on "Shadow of a Doubt" and "Stoker", he proposes that while the films contain many direct similarities, the latter is takes it one step further, to a place where Hitchcock's film did not dare go.  While "Stoker" might seem like a remake of "Shadow of a Doubt", it is more of a follow-up, as it takes all of the core themes and pushes them to the limit, such as incest and the concept of vampirism.  I thought that the poetic misinterpretation of Hitchcock's film by the filmmakers of "Stoker" was spot on.  They paid a loyal homage to the themes in "Shadow of a Doubt", but "Stoker" took it a few steps further, seeing many of those themes to their end.  I wonder had Hitchcock made his film today, if it would be more like "Stoker" and his very own "Psycho", two films with dark themes that are actually explored onscreen.  As with most other Hitchcock films, "Shadow of a Doubt" leaves a lot left to imagine.

"Rear Window" is one of Hitchcock's many acclaimed thrillers.  In this film, our protagonist is a photographer who, for the time being, is confined to a wheelchair.  As boredom gets the better of him, he starts snooping on a suspicious neighbor, and his paranoia of this man grows the more that he watches him.  In the scene above, Jeff's girlfriend is searching the place for evidence that Thorwald, the neighbor, killed his wife.  The action of the scene plays out at a distance, with us getting the view from Jeff's position.  This gives us the spine-chilling effect of helplessness, like Jeff feels, and we are possibly going to be voyeurs of a murder.  We can hardly see what is going on in Thorwald's apartment, and we can hear nothing.  The clip ends with Thorwald looking up at Jeff with total understanding of what he has been doing.  This is a harrowing, suspenseful scene, not with respect to the plot, but with respect to the helpless and in-the-dark-feeling themes.

This past weekend, I saw "Gravity", a sci-fi space drama directed by Alfonso Cuaron and starring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney.  The duo are astronauts working on the Hubble Telescope, when a chain reaction of events result in massive, high-speed clouds of debris that destroy their shuttle.  After an unfortunate tangle, Kowalski is gone, and Stone is left to navigate through space to find an improbable sanctuary.  A striking feature of the film is its use of 3D technology.  I am not usually a fan, but this movie used the added depth to great advantage, the vastness of outer space invoking desperation and awe.  This effect, mixed with the minimalistic use of sound and score, has an intense feeling upon us as viewers, almost leaving us short of breath.  As I said, I do not adore special effects, and this movie relies on them greatly.  Yet the way in which they are used here, along with two terrific performances, creates a film that is altogether horrifying and beautiful.

Jesse James, the Bourgeois Bandit: The Transformation of a Popular Hero

Christopher Anderson's essay about the famous outlaw examines the ways alike and dissimilar in which Jesse James has been portrayed through the years in cinema.  He thinks that the first James movie was a tragedy, whereas the second was a farce.  This contrasts drastically the Andrew Dominik film, which is rather an intense, multi-layered character study, exploring the coward Robert Ford just as deeply as the outlaw.  Anderson believes that a historical film, such as these, cannot contain elements of comedy, tragedy, irony, and romance, which, ironically, are all present in Dominik's take on the tale.  This revision of the notorious bandit, with its long runtime, was able to explore all of these themes of Jesse and Robert's lives.  These immortalized characters, believe it or not, were once real people, who ran the whole gamut of human life.  These men had their laughs and their love, and their fair share of tragedy as well.  I think had Anderson written this essay after watching Dominik's film, that many of his points would need to be revised.

This scene above, from Ford's "The Quiet Man", is a great example of the style of humor that John Ford employs in his films.  We have two inebriated characters who begin a foolish fight in a pub and then take to the streets, fighting through the village.  At one point, they even stop for another drink.  While many of Ford's films have a heavy, dramatic climax in which the protagonist finds a resolution, "The Quiet Man" has a climax laden with levity, from the goofy start to the fight to the pause to get some more beer.  With all of the films John Ford has directed, it is easy to overlook this gem, which is very different than those in his Western repertoire.

I recently watched the film "Breathless", director Jean-Luc Godard's first film.  It is about a young criminal Frenchman who models himself after Hollywood characters.  After killing a police officer, he hides out with his American girlfriend.  She betrays him and tells the police, who end up killing him in the streets.  The way this film shows how cinema affects our lives is intriguing.  Michel, the protagonist, takes his look from Humphrey Bogart, and he even quotes lines from older movies when he speaks.  He shows no remorse for his slaying of the officer, giving him a morally desensitized demeanor.  This film is possibly the first to explore some of the negative effects of cinema upon its viewers.      

The Catholic Imagination of John Ford

In "The Nationalization of the Catholic Imagination: The Westerns of John Ford", Anthony Burke Smith explains that the catholic imagination of western cinema focuses on the social dislocation of communities and individuals in those communities.  He adds that these films can be related to social disruptions of the time, such as depression, war, and postwar cultural struggles.  This social dislocation is integral in the films of John Ford.  In "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, for example, Stoddard is pulled from the East and dumped into the Wild West, and the film details his struggle to resolve his place in the community.  The community is resolving its own displacement, which manifests in the form of outlaw Liberty Valence.  Both Stoddard and the community find support around them to help them through their adjustments.  Tom Donaphin acts as the savior for Stoddard, whereas Stoddard is the savior of the community.  Through these men, the community rids itself of Liberty Valence, but more importantly, learns a lot about itself and the ways of the West.

In "Drums Along the Mohawk", when Lana and Gil first arrive back at the homestead, they are treated to the presence of Blue Back.  Gil is outside when Blue Back steps into the doorway and severely scares Lana.  She screams and flails about until Gil strikes her across the face.  With this scene, we are given a heavy-handed example of the social dislocation typical of Ford films.  We have a rich city girl coming to the frontier littered with danger and adversity, mostly in the form of the Native American.  With this scene, we get another Ford protagonist who is trying to find her way in a tumultuous community.  While many Ford films are set during the Indian Wars, this flick finds home in the American Revolution, which further extends the reach of his broad catholic imagination.

Recently, I have been reading "Meditations in Green", by Stephen Wright.  It is series of closely connected vignettes concerning a man named Griffin.  The novel cuts from his time as a Field Researcher for the Army during the Vietnam War to his present residence in a nameless metropolis, most likely New York City.  The book is funny and sometimes psychedelic, while remaining profound.  The thing of most intrigue in the story is the perception of the war.  Most of the characters were not foot soldiers, and rather stayed inside all day and analyzed war data.  They would spend a lot of time doing nothing, just smoking reefer and sitting on the roof of the compound.  Many of them, including Griffin, eventually turned to smoking heroin, leaving some badly addicted.  But in the end, this cast of characters can't get enough of Vietnam.  They love the life and never want to go back to the states, which I find fascinating.