154 resultados para Writers and cinema
Resumo:
This report, written for the Australian Film Commission (now Screen Australia) is the first major study of the development and role of studio complexes in the spread of film production around the world. The report is divided in to five chapters. First, it examines policy-making around studios, including government support for new facilities around the world. Second, it situates the phenomenon of the contemporary studio complex within the international production ecology. Third, it provides examples of the three types of studio complex: production precinct; cinema city; and media city. Fourth, it describes the networks of production that sustain studios. And fifth it explores the place of the studio in the relationship between 'local' and international production.
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Teachers in the Pacific region have often signalled the need for more locally produced information texts in both the vernacular and English, to engage their readers with local content and to support literacy development across the curriculum. The Information Text Awareness Project (ITAP), initially informed by the work of Nea Stewart-Dore, has provided a means to address this need through supporting local teachers to write their own information texts. The article reports on the impact of an ITAP workshop carried out in Nadi, Fiji in 2012. Nine teacher volunteers from the project trialled the use of the texts in their classrooms with positive results in relation to student learning and belief in themselves as writers.
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Written at a time of significant changes for women and for women writers in Queensland, Australia, Jay Verney's A Mortality Tale (1994), privileges women's experiences of place and seeks to redeem the feminine from its entrapment in masculine stories/discourses of self and place. This chapter draws on Julia Kristeva's conceptualisation of the semiotic as a way of reading Verney's witty and reflective re-articulation of phallocentric orderings of spatiality and gender.
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This article provides an account of one of Australia's great literary hoaxes - the Demidenko affair. In particular, it focuses upon the accusations that Helen Darville plagiarised a number of historical and literary texts in her novel, The Hand That Signed The Paper. This article considers how the dispute was interpreted in three different contexts - the literary community, the legal system, and the media. Part 1 examines how writers, publishers, and editors understood the controversy in terms of the aesthetics and ethics of plagiarism. Part 2 details how lawyers framed the discussion in light of economic rights and moral rights under copyright law. Part 3 deals with the media attention upon the personalities and politics of the scandal. The conclusion charts the competition between these various communities over who should resolve the dispute.
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I approached the editorial prompt as an opportunity to work through some of the concerns driving my current research on creative labor in emergent or ‘peripheral’ media hubs, centers of production activity outside established media capitals that are nevertheless increasingly integrated into a global production apparatus. It builds from my research on the role that film, television and digital media production have played in the economic and cultural strategies of Glasgow, Scotland, and extends the focus on media work to other locations, including Prague and Budapest. I am particularly drawn to the spatial dynamics at play in these locations and how local producers, writers, directors and crew negotiate a sense of place and creative identity against the flows and counter-flows of capital and culture. This means not only asking questions about the growing ensemble of people, places, firms and policies that make international productions possible, but also studying the more quotidian relationships between media workers and the locations (both near and far) where they now find work. I do not see these tasks as unrelated. On the one hand, such queries underscore how international production depends on a growing constellation of interchangeable parts and is facilitated by various actors whose agendas may or may not converge. On the other hand, these questions also betray an even more complicated dynamic, a process that is shifting the spatial orientation of both location and labor around uneven and contested scales. As local industries reimagine themselves as global players, media practitioners are caught up in a new geography of creative labor: not only are personnel finding it increasingly necessary to hop from place to place to follow the work, but also place itself is changing, as locations morph into nebulous amalgamations of tax rebates, subsidized facilities, production services and (when it still matters) natural beauty.
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Theodor Adorno was opposed to the cinema because he felt it was too close to reality, and ipso facto an extension of ideological Capital, as he wrote in 1944 in Dialectic of Enlightenment. What troubled Adorno was the iconic nature of cinema – the semiotic category invented by C. S. Peirce where the signifier (sign) does not merely signify, in the arbitrary capacity attested by Saussure, but mimics the formal-visual qualities of its referent. Iconicity finds its perfect example in the film’s ingenuous surface illusion of an unmediated reality – its genealogy (the iconic), since classical antiquity, lay in the Greek term eikōn which meant “image,” to refer to the ancient portrait statues of victorious athletes which were thought to bear a direct similitude with their parent divinities. For the postwar, Hollywood-film spectator, Adorno said, “the world outside is an extension of the film he has just left,” because realism is a precise instrument for the manipulation of the mass spectator by the culture industry, for which the filmic image is an advertisement for the world unedited. Mimesis, or the reproduction of reality, is a “mere reproduction of the economic base.” It is precisely film’s iconicity, then, its “realist aesthetic . . . [that] makes it inseparable from its commodity character.”...
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This investigation combined musicality and theatricality in the creation of four shows: Bear with Me, The Empty City, Gentlemen Songsters and Warmwaters. Led by creative practice, the research identified four polyvalences that characterise Composed Theatre, a transformational artistic domain which offers distinct challenges for performance makers. These include tensions and resolutions between compositional and theatrical thinking; music and words; setlist and script; and finally persona and character. The research finds that these interplays not only lend Composed Theatre its distinct qualities, but offer a potential set of balances to strike for writers, performers, composers and musicians who mix music and theatre in intermedial performance.
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Synopsis and critique of Australian film in animation, comedy, and drama genres.
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This chapter will examine how transnational film making allows national and iconic stories to shift outside their imposed national boundaries, freeing them from “nation building” constraints and predetermined ideological motivations. Each interpretation creates one more dimension to the story’s complexity and hybridity assuring its continuance and relevance into the future. Each new film version, and in the case of iconic stories, each new transnational film version, breathes new energy and life into the stories and also stops monolithic ownership of them. What is also of interest in this chapter is the judgement cast upon each of the retelling and adaptations of these iconic stories. Every adaptation is weighed up and judged against a mythic ideal, and as such, each always falls short of imagined expectations. But in a paradoxical fashion, it is this failure to capture that provides the impetus for the story’s future retellings.
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In recent decades, there has been a strong call by writers in education for alternative forms of leadership and management that are human centred and that value social cohesion, fairness, and democratic practices. Referred to by names such as transformative leadership (Shields, 2013) and ethical leadership (Starratt, 1996), those promoting these types of leadership argue for the use of “power as a moral force for the common good” (Duignan, 2007, p.12). In this chapter, our interest lies with managers in universities and how they use power in ethical and unethical ways. We consider some macro forces (e.g., globalisation, neo-liberal policies) that have impacted universities, making it difficult for managers to promote socially just and equitable practices. In particular, we examine the influence of managerialism—the application of private sector practices to the public sector—where the role of manager is not to question current practices, but to conform to performance targets, and to ensure compliance (O’Brien & Down, 2002). To come to an understanding of what might constitute ethical practices, we refer to the field of micropolitics as a way to help illuminate current practice and point to more positive ways of working.
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The zombie has long been regarded as a “fundamentally American creation” (Bishop 2010) and a western monster representing the fears and anxieties of Western society. Since the renaissance of the zombie movie in the early 2000s, a subsequent surge in international production has seen the release of movies from Norway, Cuba, Pakistan and Thailand to name a few. Although Japanese zombie movies have been far more visible for Western cult audiences than in mainstream markets, Japanese cinema has emerged as one of the more prolific producers of zombie films outside of Anglophone or Western European countries in recent years. Films such as Helldriver (2010), Zombie TV (2013), Versus (2000), Tokyo Zombie (2005), Happiness of the Katakuris (2001) and anime television series High School of the Dead (2010) have generated varying degrees of popularity and critical attention internationally. At first glance Japanese zombie films, with musical zombie interludes, undead yakuza henchmen and revenge-seeking yūrei zombies, appear fundamentally different to their Western counterparts. Yet, on closer examination, the Japanese zombie movie could be regarded as a hybrid and intertextual generic form drawing on syntactic conventions at the core of a universal zombie sub-genre established by Western filmmaking traditions, while also distilling culturally specific tropes unique to various Japanese horror cinema sub-genres. Most importantly, the Japanese zombie film extracts, emphasises and revises particular conventions and motifs common within Western zombie films that are particularly relevant to Japanese audiences. This chapter investigates the cultural resonance of key generic motifs identifiable in the Japanese zombie film. It establishes a production context and the influence of Japanese horror cinema on style and thematic concerns. It then examines the function of prominent narrative conventions, namely: the source, outbreak and spread of infection; mutation and the representation of the monster; and the inclusion of supernatural and religious motifs.
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As an art form, film has arguably always functioned as a stronghold for memory. Memories unfold in the stories told on screen, and remain preserved in the experiences of the audience viewing the film, at a particular time and place. The environment of a film festival further alters the viewing experience and its relationship to memory. The Brisbane International Film Festival (BIFF) was founded in 1992. After considerable disruption due to economic and socio-political changes, it took place for the last time in 2013. The change in BIFF’s leadership and programming agenda significantly impacted the festival’s image and its position on the wider festival circuit. Through an examination of cinema and memory) it will be argued that film festivals operate as (temporary) sites of memory, through the programming and screening of films, engagement with local audiences, and promotion of film culture. This specific and unique ‘festival memory’ inextricably links to the audience and the venue, and is curated by the festival programmers and staff, who carry a wealth of knowledge (not necessarily recorded), of past festivals, successes, and failures. The people involved, the festival staff and audience, act as caretakers of this ‘festival memory.’ This essay will therefore examine how the BIFF and its home, the Regent Theatre, have functioned as crucial ‘sites of memory’ for film and film culture in Brisbane, Australia.
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The rapid expansion of the international film festival circuit has included the loss of smaller, but well established festivals, often due to the perceived need for constant innovation and change. The Brisbane International Film Festival was founded in 1992. After considerable disruption to the festival’s leadership, programme and location due to economic and socio-political changes, it was held for the last time in 2013. Nafus and Anderson cite the term ‘lieux de memoire’, meaning ‘sites of memory’, as a place of “remembrance that exist(s) in a social world that constantly seeks to get ahead of itself, to “innovate” (Nafus and Anderson in Cefkin 2009, 141). The concept of ‘festival memory’ has not yet been explored in any depth, but such significant shifts in festivals such as BIFF are arguably sites where festival histories and identities, and film knowledge itself, can be irretrievably lost.