Film as literature, or the Truffaldian Malaise

This chapter looks at L’Homme qui aimait les femmes (1977) as a privileged instance of the self-effacing, obliquely disruptive, reflexive aesthetics that characterizes Truffaut’s cinema, by means of an intermedial approach. Although an original story, written by Truffaut in collaboration with Suzanne Schiffman and Michel Fermaud, the film’s subject is the writing of a book containing the protagonist’s story. More importantly, its mode of address presents this story as literature, through a complex network of flashbacks and voiceover narrations that comment on and make sense of the fragmentary present-tense action scenes. As well as a film, this method resulted in an actual novel, or cinéroman, this time authored exclusively by the director under the same title of L’Homme qui aimait les femmes, thus giving material form to the literary aim of the cinematic enterprise: a book.

Physicality, difference, and the challenge of representation: Werner Herzog in the Light of the new waves

This chapter looks into the gap between presentational realism and the representation of physical experience in Werner Herzog's work so as to retrieve the indexical trace – or the absolute materiality of death. To that end, it draws links between Herzog and other directors akin to realism in its various forms, including surrealism. In particular, it focuses on François Truffaut and Glauber Rocha, representing respectively the Nouvelle Vague and the Cinema Novo, whose works had a decisive weight on Herzog’s aesthetic choices to the point of originating distinct phases of his outputs. The analyses, though restricted to a small number of films, intends to re-evaluate Herzog’s position within, and contribution to, film history.

Going global: the Brazilian scripted film

This article departs from the assumption that a certain section of world cinema, usually defined as ‘independent’, has been evolving on the basis of good scripts. Between the late 1980s and early 90s, there has been a boom of new cinemas in the world, such as the new Iranian, Taiwanese, Japanese, Mexican, Argentine and Brazilian cinemas. A significant part of this production shows a renewed interest in local and national peculiarities of their respective countries, going against the grain of globalisation and its typical cultural dilution. Most of these films are also engaged in reassessing narrative cinema, as a kind of reaction against the deconstructive work carried out by postmodern cinema of the 1980s.Recent new cinemas are supported by a combination of local and international resources, derived from public and private sponsors at home, and funding agencies, festivals and TV channels abroad. In most cases funds are granted after the film script has been analysed and approved by commissions of experts. The New Brazilian Cinema, or cinema da retomada as it is locally called, has been enormously affected by this scheme, which has even caused a ‘script boom’ in Brazil in the past decade. The chapter examins the results of this process.

Storytelling in song: television music, narrative and allusion in 'The O.C.'

Television’s long-form storytelling has the potential to allow the rippling of music across episodes and seasons in interesting ways. In the integration of narrative, music and meaning found in The O.C. (Fox, FOX 2003-7), popular song’s allusive and referential qualities are drawn upon to particularly televisual ends. At times embracing its ‘disruptive’ presence, at others suturing popular music into narrative, at times doing both at once. With television studies largely lacking theories of music, this chapter draws on film music theory and close textual analysis to analyse some of the programme's music moments in detail. In particular it considers the series-spanning use of Jeff Buckley’s cover of ‘Hallelujah’ (and its subsequent oppressive presence across multiple televisual texts), the end of episode musical montage and the use of recurring song fragments as theme within single episodes. In doing so it highlights music's role in the fragmentation and flow of the television aesthetic and popular song’s structural presence in television narrative. Illustrating the multiplicity of popular song’s use in television, these moments demonstrate song’s ability to provide narrative commentary, yet also make particular use of what Ian Garwood describes as the ability of ‘a non-diegetic song to exceed the emotional range displayed by diegetic characters’ (2003:115), to ‘speak’ for characters or to their feelings, contributing to both teen TV’s melodramatic affect and narrative expression.

The Haptic Aesthetic in Samuel Beckett's Drama

In their sparse and isolated spaces, Samuel Beckett's figures imagine the touch of a lost love or dream of the comfort and care that the hands of a dear one might bring. Applying philosophical writings that feature sensation, particularly touch, this study examines how Beckett's later work for stage and screen dramatizes moments of contact between self and self, self and world, and self and other. With implications for how gender and ethics can be approached within Beckett's aesthetic, this study explores the employment of haptic imagery as an alternative to certain dominant codes of visual representation.

The look: style, technology and televisuality in the New Who

This chapter explores the distinctive qualities of the Matt Smith era Doctor Who, focusing on how dramatic emphases are connected with emphases on visual style, and how this depends on the programme's production methods and technologies. Doctor Who was first made in the 1960s era of live, studio-based, multi-camera television with monochrome pictures. However, as technical innovations like colour filming, stereo sound, CGI and post-production effects technology have been routinely introduced into the programme, and now High Definition (HD) cameras, they have given Doctor Who’s creators new ways of making visually distinctive narratives. Indeed, it has been argued that since the 1980s television drama has become increasingly like cinema in its production methods and aesthetic aims. Viewers’ ability to view the programme on high-specification TV sets, and to record and repeat episodes using digital media, also encourage attention to visual style in television as much as in cinema. The chapter evaluates how these new circumstances affect what Doctor Who has become and engages with arguments that visual style has been allowed to override characterisation and story in the current Doctor Who. The chapter refers to specific episodes, and frames the analysis with reference to earlier years in Doctor Who’s long history. For example, visual spectacle using green-screen and CGI can function as a set-piece (at the opening or ending of an episode) but can also work ‘invisibly’ to render a setting realistically. Shooting on location using HD cameras provides a rich and detailed image texture, but also highlights mistakes and especially problems of lighting. The reduction of Doctor Who’s budget has led to Steven Moffat’s episodes relying less on visual extravagance, connecting back both to Russell T. Davies’s concern to show off the BBC’s investment in the series but also to reference British traditions of gritty and intimate social drama. Pressures to capitalise on Doctor Who as a branded product are the final aspect of the chapter’s analysis, where the role of Moffat as ‘showrunner’ links him to an American (not British) style of television production where the preservation of format and brand values give him unusual power over the look of the series.

Effort and affect: engaging with film performance

In order to consider our emotional and physical involvement with film this chapter explores the rapport between camera and performer and how this impacts on the construction of engagement, drawing on critical approaches across the disciplines of film, dance and philosophy to describe our spatial, emotional and sensuous relationship to characters and bodies on-screen. Concern with the relationship between what is happening on screen and the shaping of our engagement is developed through attention to the effort of a particular performance, using close analysis to make sense of the affect invited by qualities of movement and how they are presented in moment from Rosemary’s Baby (Polanski, 1968).

Access and excess in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Much is made of the viscerally disturbing qualities embedded in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre - human bodies are traumatised, mutilated and distorted – and the way these are matched by close and often intense access to the performers involved. Graphic violence focused on the body specifically indicates the film as a key contemporary horror text. Yet, for all this closeness to the performers, it soon becomes clear in undertaking close-analysis of the film that access to them is equally characterised by extreme distance, both spatially and cognitively. The issue of distance is particularly striking, not least because of its ramifications on engagement, which throws up various aesthetic and methodological questions concerning performers’ expressive authenticity. This article considers the lack of access to performance in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, paying particular attention to how this fits in with contemporaneous presentations of performance more generally, as seen in films such as Junior Bonner (Sam Peckinpah, 1972). As part of this investigation I consider the affect of such a severe disruption to access on engagement with, and discussion of, performance. At the heart of this investigation lie methodological considerations of the place of performance analysis in the post-studio period. How can we perceive anything of a character’s interior life, and therefore engage with performers who we fundamentally lack access to? Does such an apparently significant difference in the way performers and their embodiment is treated mean that they can even be thought of as delivering a performance?