Between Screen and Reality

What is the relationship between cinema and reality – between a location being filmed and an actual location? And how does this relationship facilitate and improve our understanding of our surroundings, ourselves and the nature of cinema as such? These were the underlying questions throughout the course, and it managed to indeed open my eyes to my surroundings more: to see the different layers that a place is made up of, the different and often conflicting connotations that a single location can carry. In my opinion, being able to present on location underlined this and was very appropriate to the overarching topic, even though presentations on location brought problems with them that were beyond our power, such as sudden construction works or, in the case of my group, events (conventions) being organised at the exact same time as the presentations took place – which made planning the presentations a lot harder of course.

Nevertheless, I did enjoy the fieldwork a lot. Having studied film and other media for a long time, location-sensitive research was a welcome addition to my previous studies that had been only focused on the finished product instead of the larger processes (social, historical, etc.) around it. I especially welcomed the free loan of the iPads during this course; apart from being a good study aid in general (when it came to reading texts for the course and so on), the use of 4G enabled us to watch our relevant clips actually on location. Of course nowadays most of us have smartphones that we could have used for this, but size sometimes does matter, and being able to compare the shots directly with the surroundings enabled us to detect differences and techniques that we would have surely missed otherwise. Figuring out from what perspective a certain shot was filmed and why added a new layer of meaning, the practical one: after all, when it comes to small details, we rarely notice them when doing research ‘the normal way.’

In ‘Modesty Blaise’, this mirror has been moved from the other side of the canal to this one – we assumed it was in order to show both the planting of the bomb and the reflection of the approaching boat at the same time.

What I did miss during this course was a more extensive theoretical framework, or rather engaging in discourse with the material and discuss in class, rather than having lectures without discussions. Although the lectures were relevant as well to contextualise the material and give additional information, more sessions like the literature session, in which we were able to discuss in small groups, would have been convenient. On the other hand, of course, there was the time issue because we also had to be able to do our fieldwork, so it is understandable that there weren’t that many opportunities for this. It was also interesting to read other people’s blog posts, although sometimes (especially with such a large amount of people) this could get a little chaotic. Some guidelines regarding the blog posts would have been helpful in the beginning, too – especially for the people who did not take the Crossmedial Exhibitions course, like me. While personally sticking to actually writing a ‘blog post’ (meaning, keeping it within 500-1000 words), many other people wrote small essays, and it did not become clear which format was preferable. For a blog like this to be truly representative, there should be coherence in such aspects as well, as I’ve learned from the years of maintaining my personal blog.

All in all, the course was a welcome addition to my studies and added a fresh perspective to my research in other areas as well. Furthermore, it was quite in sync with a course that I took for the Research Master, which made it easier to understand both courses because space was approached from a different perspective.

Samantha Schäfer

How can film comment on locality?

As I have repeatedly mentioned before, film has a large role in commenting on and shaping the perceptions of a specific location – a city, a building, anything really on top of which we can add layers and layers of narratives – the real ones that we create through everyday life, and those narratives that are consciously placed there by film makers. As an extension of my last blog post and in preparation of our final presentation, I have looked a little more extensively at the interesting phenomenon of Amsterdamned in comparison with its American predecessor Puppet on a Chain. 

Making unique use of Amsterdam: the canal system in ‘Amsterdamned’

What do places mean – do they have a certain inherent quality that leads to a certain interpretation, a certain view of something, or are they always at the mercy of a director? In our first presentation, we have looked at how Modesty Blaise and Ciske de Rat use the same space differently; with the RAI in our second presentation, we looked at how it presents itself by alluding to the cliché qualities of Amsterdam presenting the beautiful tourist view, which mostly includes the use of bikes along the canals, the typically Dutch architecture, and so forth. But is there more to these places than them being picturesque to foreigners, and possibly locals as well?

Picturesque ambition becomes the norm: a comparative view on Oudezijds Kolk and the RAI

Now that the first city walk is over and everybody has recovered from the horrid weather, it is of course time for some self-reflection and a cheerful, hopefully less rainy outlook on next week’s presentation. 

The Red Light District: a world of contrasts

Our group is researching the area of the Oudezijds Voorburgwal/Achterburgwal and Oudezijds Kolk – all fairly straightforward location once you’ve understood the words, I suppose. In particular, we’re focusing on the beautiful site of the Oudezijds Kolk, where, amongst others, the films Ciske de Rat (the story of a poor street child in the city of Amsterdam) and Modesty Blaise, a comedy spy-fi film.

Historically, this area is quite important and certainly carries this ‘special something’ that outsiders usually connect with Amsterdam. The Oudezijds Kolk specifically has been used since the Middle Ages to give protection against high tide and to refresh the water in the canals. And then, we also have the notorious Red Light District that Amsterdam is so well-known for; it has been in existence since the 14^th century and has had its ups and downs in history. Its proximity to the harbour encouraged prostitution, and for a while the district was of such reputation that priests and married men were forbidden to enter it at all. Gambling houses over time turned into brothels and nowadays, prostitution has been regulated for two centuries, with the Red Light District mainly featuring window prostitution as prostitution is technically tolerated, but now allowed on the streets.

The area is full of contrasts and is very famous for this as well: on the one hand, you have anything mischievous that you could desire: brothels, sex shops, coffee shops, bars, and on the other you have listed buildings, abbeys, privately rented apartments, the Oude Kerk and generally beautiful, old architecture that certainly carries the charm of a picturesque Amsterdam, with its canals and house boats and so forth. This typical Amsterdam feeling is probably what makes this location such an attractive one for filming purposes. In our presentation we will show how the Oudezijds Kolk has been used in two very different ways: in a sad black-and-white setting that, when watched against this particular background, not only shows how little the location has changed in general, but also how much has been changed with only little changes. The world of Ciske de Rat seems to be still under construction and has now been completed from the rubbles; Modesty Blaise, on the other hand, focuses on the location as merely a beautiful, picturesque tourist location for one of the numerous trips across the canals. Perhaps, then, the location itself would be interchangeable for this last one as long as it remains an attractive tourist location based on water. For Ciske de Rat, the insider (but maybe also in some sense the stranger within the city), the significance of a certain location is obviously much stronger here.

Samantha Schäfer

Living in the Horror City: How Cinema Makes Us Paranoid

All my blog posts here ultimately seem to revolve around what the cinematic city – the way it’s used, the way it’s represented in media – does to us, the people living in the (or a) city. Significant for this notion is David Clarke’s observation, following Baudrillard, that cinema is not a constant on the screen, but fluid: it leaks out of the screen and therefore moves beyond the moment of the cinematic experience. It is because of this that he points out, “[i]f many of us have […] experienced that sudden, strange feeling whilst walking through the set of a film, this is undeniably a part of the cinema” (3). How, then, do the current developments in cinema fit in with this? There is an undeniable trend towards darker views of the world, dystopian approaches; indeed, dystopia is becoming more and more popular especially in young adult fiction, as the recent adaptations of The Hunger Games trilogy or the only just released first instalment of the Divergent trilogy show. Like most trends, this is closely related to society as well and teen’s fascination with dystopia depends on their experiences with all kinds of media in this media-dependent age: “In dystopian fiction, the world has gone radically astray at some point in the future, as authors extrapolate on current social, political, or economic trends. These novels provide teens with a look at a future they may suspect is nearly upon them, perhaps validating their worst fears” (Serafini 147). So dystopia is, in the end, only an extrapolation of current issues, current fears; therefore it’s useful to have a look at what is currently going on (in cinema and society) to figure out where that fear comes from, and how it relates to our experience of the cinematic city.

Two notions became very significant in this context in the literature that I focused on so far: the notion of the stranger and the city of horror. According to Charlotte Brunson, the city discourse may focus on specific cities, but thereby it also brings them together, making all our cities alike. Typical tropes include (amongst many others) a melancholic mood, the situationist ‘dérive’, traces of material history (in the physical states of buildings for instance), and maybe most importantly, being alone in a crowd. This is what she suggests links to the new ‘flaneur’ of the 21^st century: he is indeed, instead of a stranger coming to the city, a stranger within the city, “someone who is already there, a man of the crowd” (Brunsdon 223). This then coincides with the enormous anonymity that many people experience and at times love, at times despise about the big modern cities.

What, then, is popular in cinema and television these days? Apart from the clear trend to dystopian fiction discussed above, what we get wherever we look, no matter what channel we switch to, is criminal fiction – in films and numerous sometimes exchangeable TV series, and so forth. According to James Sanders and focusing on the representation of New York, the crime film and the corresponding ‘horror city’ have undergone numerous changes closely related to current societal issues at that time. For instance in The Naked City (1948), killing was supposed to be a rare event; although there is crime in the city, ordinary life goes on as usual and happy as ever. By the 70s, though, “not even the most vigorous police initiative can redeem the city. Crime is worse than ever […] while the police have grown almost as dangerous as the criminals themselves” (370). With the interplay of cinema and reality constantly influencing each other both ways, this sentiment partly corresponded to the realities of New York as well, especially when filmmakers started to focus on specific ‘bad’ neighbourhoods rather than the city as a whole, oftentimes displaying much more blood, gore and violence than actually necessary; a new kind of genre is born.

What does this mean nowadays? If cinema (and indeed, also television) leaks out of the screen and into our streets, it is no surprise that we may feel more and more unsafe and paranoid in our respective homes. Although maybe not as paranoid as people may be displayed in films, isolating themselves from the rest of the world out of fear what might happen to them in their own neighbourhoods, the universality and anonymity of the cinematic city as well as the abundance of crime fiction available may take their toll. My recent binge-watching of Criminal Minds and the appalling suspects that are dealt with there may have temporarily turned my vision to the potential danger in seemingly harmless strangers on the street, and in the popularity of many other such programmes, we may have lost count of what specific city is the focus of CSI nowadays (Miami, New York, Vegas, what’s next?) While some shows (like Castle) introduce fun interesting characters to create a new group dynamic, generally they all seem to be rather interchangeable. If my father is unable to tell me which of those shows he watched the other night, it’s not about bad memory, it’s about them being ultimately the same even when focusing on a specific city. We need to remember, then, to watch something unrealistic every once in a while; something fantastic that reminds us that the world is not all dark, and that the neighbour’s cat is not going to kill you once you step onto the lawn. 

S. Schäfer

Literature Cited

Brunsdon, Charlotte, ‘The Attractions of the Cinematic City’, Screen 53:3, Autumn 2012, 209-227.

Clarke, David B., ‘Introduction. Previewing the Cinematic City’, in: Clarke, D.B., The Cinematic City, London 2002, pp. 1-18.

Sanders, James, ‘Chapter 13: Nighttown. The Dark Side of the City’, in: The Celluloid Skyline. New York and the Movies, New York 2002, pp. 366-398.

Serafini, Frank, and J. Blasingame. ‘The Changing Face of the Novel’, The Reading Teacher 66 (2012) 2, pp. 145-147.

Being everywhere and nowhere: Stuck in the ‘post-war city symphony condition’?

The city symphony, as we have learned, does not focus on the individual at all; the protagonist is the city, all-present, somewhat omniscient; a giant being that works as a machine; this holds especially true for the post-war city symphonies which portray cities in decay. Except for a few exceptions, individuals are neglected, and humans are rather portrayed in mechanical, functional masses rather than beings with feelings, dreams, plans. Any spark of individualism is drowned by the overtowering structures or the modern city. Nowadays, with the technological innovations that disconnect us even more from our surroundings and each other than before, this feels to be more true than ever; people as slaves to their surroundings and machines.

The zombie comedy Shaun of the Dead (2004) shows how people are disconnected from each other and their surroundings so much that they can hardly be distinguished from actual zombies.

Caught inside a film: how films can change our perception of home

The articles we have read so far all make very valid points; about how films can present a city in various ways, drawing from outsider as well as insider perspectives for instance, thereby showing a certain image to the outside world. Indeed, we have learned that cities might even change the way they represent themselves based on the views conveyed by films. This probably comes closest to my question here, but again mainly refers to the city’s portrayal for the sake of tourism and so forth. But how can those perspectives intended for outsiders change the way that we perceive the city we live in? Because we really don’t need to see a representation of the city we walk every day – or do we?