Aesthetical and narrative uses of the trench in the Hollywood cinema of 1918-1930

Throughout history of painting, the representation of landscape has been considered a laboratory for the human gaze on the world. The First World War and its new approach to the battlefield altered deeply the classical forms of representation, and replaced them with a mechanised and fragmentary vision, which was related with the development of photography and cinema. As Vicente J. Benet has analysed, Hollywod cinema used these deep changes in its filmic versions of the conflict, although it organised them following a narrative logic. In this text we intend to study how the battlefield and, particularly, the trench, are inserted in this logic of the history of landscape painting. We do so through some Hollywood films from the period 1918-1930. Firstly, we approach the trench as a composition value which can structure the image and guide the camera movement. In the second place, we study how it creates a dialog between its inside, melodrama scenery, and the outside, battlefield and danger. In both cases, we conclude that the trench as a form and as a narrative element plays a structuring and integrative role with the storytelling logic.

The social life of ruins: sites of memory and the politics of a Zimbabwean periphery

This article explores conflicts over a series of ruins located within Zimbabwe's flagship National Park. The relics have long been regarded as sacred places by local African communities evicted from their vicinity, and have come to be seen as their ethnic heritage. Local intellectuals' promotion of this heritage was an important aspect of a defensive mobilization of cultural difference on the part of a marginalized minority group. I explore both indigenous and colonial ideas about the ruins, the different social movements with which they have been associated and the changing social life they have given the stone relics. Although African and European ideas sometimes came into violent confrontation - as in the context of colonial era evictions - there were also mutual influences in emergent ideas about tribe, heritage and history. The article engages with Pierre Nora's notion of 'sites of memory', which has usefully drawn attention to the way in which ideas of the past are rooted and reproduced in representations of particular places. But it criticizes Nora's tendency to romanticize pre-modern 'memory', suppress narrative and depoliticize traditional connections with the past. Thus, the article highlights the historicity of traditional means of relating to the past, highlighting the often bitter and divisive politics of traditional ritual, myth, kinship, descent and 'being first'. It also emphasizes the entanglement of modern and traditional ideas, inadequately captured by Nora's implied opposition between history and memory. (c) 2005 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.

Flatpack revolution

The project consists of a trilogy of films and a live performance. The Future trilogy takes IKEA riot of 2005 as the starting point for a speculative history of a fictional future, culminating in a choreographed re-enactment of the original event. Shot on 16mm and 8mm film, the series explores the possibility of collective action emerging from the capitalist relations inherent in the consumer riot. The live performance No Haus Like Bau, staged at the HAU 1 theatre in Berlin for the 5th Berlin Biennale, continues this research into re-enactment and post-1989 politics by dramatizing the rise and fall of the soviet union as a neo-Constructivist mime using a stage set made of flatpack furniture. Using the aesthetics of Modernism and the avant garde, from Constructivist and Futurist constumes to biomechanics and Bauhaus theatre theory, the project transposes early twentieth century utopian ideology to a present day setting where mass uprisings are motivated by cheap commodities. These explorations of consumerism and revolution have been widely exhibited internationally and supported by Film London, Arts Council England, Collective Gallery and the Berlin Biennale. The Future Trilogy formed the basis of a solo exhibition at the Te Tuhi Art Centre in Auckland, New Zealand and was screened as part of the Signal and Noise media art festival in Vancouver, as well as other exhibitions and screenings including “Roll it to Me” at Collective Gallery, Edinburgh, and Apocatopia, Castlefield Gallery, Manchester.

Epic Sea Battle at Night: a Revolutionary Play with the Economic Thinking of Milton Friedman

The play Epic Sea Battle at Night was originally staged in 1967, to commemorate two of China’s People’s Liberation Army’s military triumphs over the Taiwanese navy two years previously. Produced at the height of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, the play is an example of the exploitation of the arts as an ideological instrument, celebrating military heroism and political conviction. Stills from the play were included in, China Pictorial 11, an English language propaganda pamphlet that was distributed to Western Imperialists in order to educate them in Maoist policy. Today, these images are clear representations of ideology. More than forty years after the Cultural Revolution, the ideology under which we live, neo-liberal late-capitalism, deliberately shirks from such blatant displays of propaganda. We have supposedly the freedom to believe whatever we like in a post-ideological age, and yet core beliefs about meritocracy, individualism and competitiveness frequently go unchallenged. By juxtaposing the visual language of ideology with the text of the capitalist manifesto, the re-enactment of a scene from Epic Sea Battle at Night harnesses the aesthetics of the past so as to allow us to reconsider the alleged neutrality of the present. The design of the stage, the positioning of the actors, costumes and props of the current production closely resembled those documented in China Pictorial 11, yet the actors’ monologues belong to a completely different context. No less heroic and utopian in tone than the speech given by the political instructor of gunboat 874 in the original play, the capitalist manifesto was an attempt to give a concrete language to the shapeless ideology of the present, and to force the invisible currents that govern life today, in China as in the West, to the surface. Neither a lecture on neo-liberal economics, nor a theatrical performance of a narrative, the piece appropriated the format of the propaganda play to re-evaluate the relationship between art and politics now.

No Haus Like Bau

The project consists of a live performance taking the 2005 IKEA riot as the starting point for a speculative history of a fictional future, culminating in a choreographed re-enactment of the original event. It is accompanied by a film series explores the possibility of collective action emerging from the capitalist relations inherent in the consumer riot. The performance, staged at the Berlin Biennale, continues this research into re-enactment and post-1989 politics, using a stage set made of flatpack furniture. Using the aesthetics of Modernism and the avant garde, the project transposes early twentieth century utopian ideology to a present day setting where mass uprisings are motivated by cheap commodities. By re-evaluating biomechanics and Bauhaus theatre theory, these explorations of consumerism and revolution propose that the mechanized movement developed in conjunction with industrial labour survives as a historical re-enactment in the wake of manufacturing work in the west. In the absence of a visual language apt to the contemporary, No Haus Like Bau uses re-enactment as a retrogarde tactic. Its purpose on the one hand is to invoke trajectories for alternate futures that never materialized at an originary moment. On the other hand, the clash of past forms with present content serves to accentuate the historical changes that have thrown into question these forms. Rather than reflecting the present, the projection of the past into a fictional future aims to destabilize the dominant narrative that suggests the current configuration of art, politics and human nature has always been this way. The project has been widely exhibited internationally and supported by Film London and Arts Council England. A theoretical essay on re-enactment as a strategy for performance has been published in Art Papers and in Memory [MIT]. The project also formed the basis of a solo exhibition at Te Tuhi Art Centre, Auckland.

Cultural policy and cultural politics in Revolutionary Cuba: re-reading the 'Palabras a los intelectuales' (Words to the Intellectuals)

This article re-reads Fidel Castro's speech to Cuban artists and intellectuals at the Biblioteca Nacional José Martí (National Library) in June 1961. Despite extensive discussion of its famous extract, the speech has rarely been examined in depth. This article thus analyses the entire speech, situating it within its co-text and its context and examining its multiple functions, offering as it does an insight into the social and educational implications of cultural revolution in Cuba and the inevitable tensions inherent in these. The article evaluates the negotiations in the text in the light of their relevance to contemporary cultural debates in Cuba.

The politics of slowness and the traps of modernity

This chapter re-evaluates the diachronic, evolutionist model that establishes the Second World War as a watershed between classical and modern cinemas, and ‘modernity’ as the political project of ‘slow cinema’. I will start by historicising the connection between cinematic speed and modernity, going on to survey the veritable obsession with the modern that continues to beset film studies despite the vagueness and contradictions inherent in the term. I will then attempt to clarify what is really at stake within the modern-classical debate by analysing two canonical examples of Japanese cinema, drawn from the geidomono genre (films on the lives of theatre actors), Kenji Mizoguchi’s Story of the Late Chrysanthemums (Zangiku monogatari, 1939) and Yasujiro Ozu’s Floating Weeds (Ukigusa, 1954), with a view to investigating the role of the long take or, conversely, classical editing, in the production or otherwise of a supposed ‘slow modernity’. By resorting to Ozu and Mizoguchi, I hope to demonstrate that the best narrative films in the world have always combined a ‘classical’ quest for perfection with the ‘modern’ doubt of its existence, hence the futility of classifying cinema in general according to an evolutionary and Eurocentric model based on the classical-modern binary. Rather than on a confusing politics of the modern, I will draw on Bazin’s prophetic insight of ‘impure cinema’, a concept he forged in defence of literary and theatrical screen adaptations. Anticipating by more than half a century the media convergence on which the near totality of our audiovisual experience is currently based, ‘impure cinema’ will give me the opportunity to focus on the confluence of film and theatre in these Mizoguchi and Ozu films as the site of a productive crisis where established genres dissolve into self-reflexive stasis, ambiguity of expression and the revelation of the reality of the film medium, all of which, I argue, are more reliable indicators of a film’s political programme than historical teleology. At the end of the journey, some answers may emerge to whether the combination of the long take and the long shot are sufficient to account for a film’s ‘slowness’ and whether ‘slow’ is indeed the best concept to signify resistance to the destructive pace of capitalism.