La música a la ciutat de Girona (1888-1985)

La tesi és una investigació histórica que presenta el fet musical a la ciutat de Girona, i inclou una paronòmica general de la història musical de les principals poblacions de les seves comarques: Olot, Figueres, Banyoles. ripoll, La Bisbal d'Empordà, Sant Feliu de Guíxols, etc. Està organitzada metodològicament en un marc cronològic i una metodologia positivista, intentant reflexar la verdadera història de la música a la ciutat de Girona amb tots i cadascun dels seus personatges i les seves institucions. La recerca s'emmarca al voltant de les corrents artístiques i polítiques de cada moment: Modernisme, Noucentisme, República, Guerra Civil, Franquisme i Democràcia. De cadascuna d'ella s'ha investigat sobre les orquestres, les cobles i les sardanes, els grups de música de cambra, la música en els cafès, la música en la intimitat de les cases particulars, el desenvolupament laboral de la professió musical a travès de la història del Sindicat i la Mútua de Músics, les sales de ball, els cinemes amb música en directe, els crítics musicals, etc. La recerca porta a la conclusió final de què l'època de millor esplendor, de més qualitat i també quantitat de música a la ciutat i comarques, i que ha viscut un millor ambient musical en tota la història, és el període que va des de principis del segle XX fins a l'esclat de la Guerra Civil (1900-1936)

La política sobre la població refugiada durant la Guerra Civil 1936-1939

El desplaçament forçós de les persones no combatents ha estat un tret intrínsec al llarg dels conflictes que han sacsejat la història de la humanitat. La forma més comuna en què s'ha manifestat ha estat la de les deportacions i la de les evacuacions de les zones de guerra. Les primeres ja les podem constatar en nombrosos episodis bíblics o durant la construcció del vell imperi romà. Tanmateix, ha estat a la nostra època quan les deportacions han tingut un abast més dissortat. D'una banda l'anomenada "neteja ètnica" ha implicat, com a primer pas abans de l'extermini d'una comunitat, el seu trasllat a guetos i el posterior desplaçament als camps de concentració. Tals foren els casos de les minories jueva i gitana sota el terror nazi. D'altra banda, hem pogut veure la deportació de col·lectius socials com a càstig per mantenir una determinada actitud davant el poder; el paradigma més tràgic ha estat la dels kulaks de l'antiga Unió Soviètica durant la dictadura estalinista. Finalment, en aquests moments, estem assistint als Balcans a l'enquistament d'un conflicte una de les causes del qual fou la pretensió de crear espais ètnics "purs", per a la qual cosa s'ha obligat la comunitat minoritària a fugir a un altre territori amb la pressió de les armes. La guerra civil de 1936-1939 és el primer conflicte europeu en què apareix la necessitat de traslladar un gran nombre de persones davant del perill que representen els combats. El fet de produir-se en una guerra civil en ple segle XX li dóna una dimensió pròpia, i també que els governs hagin de dissenyar i aplicar unes polítiques d'assistència, de les quals, tal com ja s'ha dit, no existien precedents.

A utopia no Cinema Brasileiro: matrizes, nostalgia, distopias

This book studies the ressurgence of the utopian gesture in Brazilian Cinema from the mid-1990s onwards, as well as its variations and negations. The analysis identifies trajectories of rise and fall, which reflect oscillations in the political scenario, and includes a retrospective look at utopian traditions of the Brazilian cinematic past, in turn derived from the nation's foundational myths. At the same time, it considers the ways in which recent Brazilian film production transcends Cinema Novo's national project to interacts with modern, postmodern and commercial cinemas of the world, thus benefiting from and contributing to a new transnational cinematic aesthetics.

Back to the margins in search of the core: "Foreign Land"'s geography of exclusion

The crisis of the national project in the early 1990s, caused by a short-lived but disastrous government, led Brazilian art cinema, for the first time, to look at itself as periphery and re-approach the old colonial center, Portugal. Terra estrangeira/Foreign Land (Walter Salles & Daniela Thomas, Brazil/Portugal, 1995), a film about Brazilian exiles in Portugal, is the best illustration of this perspective shift which provides a new sense of Brazil’s scale and position within a global context. Shot mainly on location in São Paulo, Lisbon and Cape Verde, it promotes the encounter of Lusophone peoples who find a common ground in their marginal situation. Rather than as a former empire, Portugal is defined by its situation at the edge of Europe and by beliefs such as Sebastianism, whose origins go back to the time when the country was dominated by Spain. As a result, notions of “core” or “center” are devolved to the realm of myth. The film’s carefully crafted dialogue combines Brazilian, Portuguese and Creole linguistic peculiarities into a common dialect of exclusion, while language puns trigger visual rhymes which refer back to the Cinema Novo (the Brazilian New Wave) repertoire and restage the imaginary of the discovery turned into unfulfilled utopia. The main characters also acquire historical resonances, as they are depicted as descendants of Iberian conquistadors turned into smugglers of precious stones in the present. Their activities define a circuit of international exchange which resonates with that of globalized cinema, a realm in which Foreign Land, made up of citations and homage to other cinemas, tries to retrieve a sense of belonging.

Rumo a uma definição positiva de world cinema

However common it has become, the term World Cinema still lacks a proper, positive definition. Despite its all-encompassing, democratic vocation, it is not usually employed to mean cinema worldwide. On the contrary, the usual way of defining it is restrictive and negative, as ‘the non-Hollywood cinema’. Needless to say, negation here translates a positive intention to turn difference from the dominant model into a virtue to be rescued from an unequal competition. However, it unwittingly sanctions the American way of looking at the world, according to which Hollywood is the centre and all other cinemas are the periphery. As an alternative to this model, this chapter proposes: • World Cinema is simply the cinema of the world. It has no centre. It is not the other, but it is us. It has no beginning and no end, but is a global process. World Cinema, as the world itself, is circulation. • World Cinema is not a discipline, but a method, a way of cutting across film history according to waves of relevant films and movements, thus creating flexible geographies. • As a positive, inclusive, democratic concept, World Cinema allows all sorts of theoretical approaches, provided they are not based on the binary perspective.

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.

Back to the margins in search of the core: foreign land's geography of exclusion

The crisis of the national project in the early 1990s, caused by a short-lived but disastrous government, led Brazilian art cinema, for the first time, to look at itself as periphery and re-approach the old colonial centre, Portugal. Terra estrangeira/Foreign Land (Walter Salles & Daniela Thomas, Brazil/Portugal, 1995), a film about Brazilian exiles in Portugal, is the best illustration of this perspective shift aimed at providing a new sense of Brazil’s scale and position within a global context. Shot mainly on location in São Paulo, Lisbon and Cape Verde, it promotes the encounter of Lusophone peoples who find a common ground in their marginal situation. Even Portugal is defined by its location at the edge of Europe and by beliefs such as Sebastianism, whose origins go back to the time when the country was dominated by Spain. As a result, notions of ‘core’ or ‘centre’ are devolved to the realm of myth. The film’s carefully crafted dialogues combine Brazilian, Portuguese and Creole linguistic peculiarities into a common dialect of exclusion, while language puns trigger visual rhymes which refer back to the Cinema Novo (the Brazilian New Wave) repertoire and restage the imaginary of the discovery turned into unfulfilled utopia. The main characters also acquire historical resonances, as they are depicted as descendants of Iberian conquistadors turned into smugglers of precious stones in the present. Their activities define a circuit of international exchange which resonates with that of globalized cinema, a realm in which Foreign Land, made up of citations and homage to other cinemas, tries to retrieve a sense of belonging.

'Eden Cinema' by Marguerite Duras

Duras’s theatre work has been profoundly neglected by UK theatre academics and practitioners, and Eden Cinema has almost no performance history in Britain. My project asked three interconnected research questions: how developing the performance contributes to understanding Duras’s theatre and specifically Eden Cinema’s problems of performability; how multimedia performance emphasising mediated sound and the live body reconfigures memory, autobiography, storytelling, gender and racial identity; how to locate a performance style appropriate for Durasian narratives of displacement and death which reflect the discontinuous and mutable form of Duras’s ‘texte/film/théâtre’. Drawing on my research interests in gender, post-colonial hybridity and performed deconstruction, I focused my staging decisions on the discontinuities and ambivalences of the text. I addressed performability by avoiding the temptation to resolve the strange ellipses in the text and instead evoked the text’s imperfect and fragmented memories, and its uncertain spatial and temporal locations, by means of a fluid theatrical form. The mise-en-scène represented imagined and remembered spaces simultaneously, and co-existing historical moments. The performance style counterpointed live and mediated action and audio-visual forms. A complex through-composed soundscape, comprising voice-over, sound and music, became a key means for evoking overlapping temporalities, interconnected narratives and fragmented memories that were dispersed across the performance. The disempowerment of the mother figure and the silent indigenous servant in the text was demonstrated through their spatial centrality but physical stillness. The servant’s colonial subaltern identity was paralleled and linked with the mother’s disenfranchisement through their proxemic relationships. I elicited a performance style which evoked ‘characters’, whose being was deferred across different regimes of reality and who ‘haunted’ the stage rather than inhabited it. I developed the project further in the additional written outcomes and presentations, and the subsequent performance of Savannah Bay where problems of performability intensify until embodiment is almost erased except via voice.

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.

Non-cinema: the location of politics in film

Philosophy has repeatedly denied cinema in order to grant it artistic status. Adorno, for example, defined an ‘uncinematic’ element in the negation of movement in modern cinema, ‘which constitutes its artistic character’. Similarly, Lyotard defended an ‘acinema’, which rather than selecting and excluding movements through editing, accepts what is ‘fortuitous, dirty, confused, unclear, poorly framed, overexposed’. In his Handbook of Inaesthetics, Badiou embraces a similar idea, by describing cinema as an ‘impure circulation’ that incorporates the other arts. Resonating with Bazin and his defence of ‘impure cinema’, that is, of cinema’s interbreeding with other arts, Badiou seems to agree with him also in identifying the uncinematic as the location of the Real. This article will investigate the particular impurities of cinema that drive it beyond the specificities of the medium and into the realm of the other arts and the reality of life itself. Privileged examples will be drawn from various moments in film history and geography, starting with the analysis of two films by Jafar Panahi: This Is Not a Film (In film nist, 2011), whose anti-cinema stance in announced in its own title; and The Mirror (Aineh, 1997), another relentless exercise in self-negation. It goes on to examine Kenji Mizoguchi’s deconstruction of cinematic acting in his exploration of the geidomono genre (films about theatre actors) in The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums (Zangigku monogatari, 1939), and culminates in the conjuring of the physical experience of death through the systematic demolition of film genres in The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer et al., 2012).

Mobile phone etiquette: a cross-national comparison

As a social medium, mobile telephony permits ubiquitous communication. This has led to concerns about the intrusiveness of the medium, which in turn has seen the development of a social etiquette governing mobile phone use. This study of Australian and US tertiary students showed that there was widespread but not universal agreement that usage was inappropriate in places of worship, classrooms and libraries or while driving a car. Australians were more tolerant of mobile usage than Americans in most situations, apart from driving. SMS was more broadly tolerated, including in class and in cinemas.

Genre, gender and interpretation of movie trailers an exploratory study

Commercial movies cost tens of millions to make. Because they are now released on thousands of screens simultaneously, movie trailers are a major and necessary method of intensively promoting movies before they disappear from cinemas forever. Yet there is a paucity of research about how potential audiences react to these trailers. This study aimed at exploring consumers’ interpretations of movie trailers. Nineteen in-depth interviews were the means of data collection, using nine trailers for yet to be released movies from the romance/drama, action, comedy and thriller categories. Genre provided a focus for exploring consumers’ interpretations of movie trailers. Evaluative judgments of movies came first as a result of the value of genre to the consumer and then as a result of content which conveyed the movie would be involving relative to past movie experiences. Interpretations about the target audience for a movie were also influenced by assumptions that genre preferences differ according to gender. The findings pose implications for the construction of movie trailers.

50 years of underground filmmaking in Melbourne: program 3

Program 3 of the 50 years of underground filmmaking in Melbourne, curated by Bill Mousoulis. A collection of John Cumming's films, including: Obsession, Recognition, and Sabotage. John also screened and discussed excerpts from some of his other works. The whole session was followed by discussion

Twice born : Dionysos films and the establishment of Greek film circuit in Australia

From the late 1940s until the late 1970s Melbourne was home to a dynamic Greek cinema circuit made up of some 30 different inner-city and suburban venues operated by a handful of vertically integrated exhibition/distribution businesses. Dionysos Films was amongst the first Greek film exhibition/distribution companies to form in Australia and from 1949 until 1956 it operated with little significant competition, establishing the parameters for a diasporic Greek film circuit that stretched across regional and metropolitan Australia and into New Zealand. This article measures the shadow cast by Dionysos Films (and its charismatic proprietor Stathis Raftopoulos) over the history of Antipodean Greek film experiences and the implications that this neglected aspect of Australian and Greek film history has for our understanding of the national cinemas in both countries.