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The subject of this paper is a recent comic movie version of Dante's "Comedy": a 2007 puppet and toy theatre adaptation of the "Inferno" directed by Sean Meredith. It is certainly not the first time that Dante and his theatre of hell appear in this kind of environment. Mickey Mouse has followed Dante's footsteps and very recently a weird bunch of prehistoric animals went a similar path: in part three of the blockbuster "Ice Age" (2009), a new, lippy guide character named Buck uses several Dante quotes and the whole strange voyage can be described as a Dantesque descent into dinosaur hell. In the following pages Ronald de Rooy argues that Meredith's version of Dante's "Inferno" is not only funny and entertaining, but that it is also surprisingly innovative if we compare it to other literature and movies which project Dante's hell or parts of it onto the modern metropolis.
'Perhaps the sodomites should be written out of Dante's "Inferno"', Jarman wrote in his journal on 1 August 1990: 'I'll offer myself as the ghostwriter.' What does he mean by 'ghostwriter' here? How queer is this odd speech-act? What is he offering to do to the homophobic landscape of the "Inferno", that forbiddingly sealed textual prison, with his Hollywood pitchman's casual bid to 'write out' the sodomites as if they were a slight embarrassment to the divine justice system? Is he speaking in jest as a writer of gay satires and sacrilegious memoirs, or in deadly earnest as an activist who had renounced the middle-class pretensions and frivolities of the pre-AIDS gay world? [...] Jarman counters the trope of homosexual theft visually with the triumphant figure of Man with Snake. The Dantesque merging of snake and thief is replaced by an erotic dance in which the gilded youth raises his phallic partner above his head and seductively kisses it on the mouth. Whereas Dante would have us notice the grotesque parody of the Trinity played out in the seventh bolgia - with the unchanging Puccio as God the Father, the two-natured Agnello-Cianfa as Christ, and the fume-veiled Buoso receiving his forked tongue from the serpent Francesco in a demonic replay of the gift of tongues from the Spirit - Jarman clears away all overdetermined theological meanings to revel in the purely aesthetic impact of the phallic dancer. All the ghosts from Dante's snakepit are conjured away in the film and replaced with the solid presence of a single gorgeously spotlit male body. Ghostwriting Dante, for Jarman, meant more than a mere appropriation of homoerotic scenes from the "Inferno" into his screenplay. It meant a complete reimagining of their aesthetic significance within the filmscape of his Dantean transformations.
The 1935 Fox Films "Dante's Inferno" (directed by Harry Lachman) traces the rise and fall of an entrepreneur. Its protagonist, Jim Carter (played by Spencer Tracy), begins the story as a stoker on a cruise liner. The narrative opens with a burst of flames from the ship's boiler, and the ensuing scene goes on to show the protagonist competing at shovelling coal for a bet in the sweltering engine-room. Interspersed are shots of the superstructure directly above with a number of elegant and vapid passengers following the game below. This initial sequence thus concisely conveys the main features of the film's social agenda through imagery that anticipates that of two of its later 'infernal' sequences. [...] Spectacular admonition and concern about the ruthless pursuit of wealth are the main features which link this "Inferno" of the thirties to the one that had appeared some six hundred years earlier. Wealth and avarice were, of course, demonstrably serious concerns for Dante: as Peter Armour, for example, has shown, there is a recurrent and pervasive concern with money, its meaning, and its misuse throughout the "Commedia". So it is not surprising that the "Inferno" should also have been appropriated by social critics some hundred years before the 1935 Hollywood fable. [...] Some of the narrative and visual patterns in "Dante's Inferno" imply an uneasy underlying vision of the movie industry and its practices. Other productions, publicity, and journalism of the time reinforce suggestions of such a metafictional approach to movies, morality, and the market in the 1935 "Dante's Inferno".
This paper focuses on the Heimat (home) metaphor of the Pit Bull bitch in Yilmaz Arslan's Brudermord/Fratricide (2005), a film about Turkish migrants in Germany. Updating the genre for a world of fluid boundaries, this is a Heimatfilm of the German margin. Arslan's film self-reflexively posits transnational Heimat film as a possible bridge between "Others", as a means to facilitate conversations which might decrease the violence of the present dog eat dog world of the margin the film portrays.
The following list includes all traceable films of at least 30 minutes length, which explicitly address the current financial, economic and debt crisis as a main topic and have been available in English or German via European cinemas, television stations, or the internet. This includes dubbed or subtitled versions of films produced in other languages. The film descriptions mostly come from the films’ or television stations’ websites or other marketing material, so they are not necessarily objective (although often informative).
The list is based on an extensive internet search but nevertheless will probably be incomplete and sometimes imprecise. For instance, there is virtually no information about how often the cinema films have actually been shown in theaters; many of them may have been shown just a few times. There are lots of interesting shorter films like The Financial Crisis (Session I–V) (Denmark 2009, Superflex) or RSA Animate: Crises of Capitalism (GB 2010, RSA/David Harvey). Those short films are not listed here, but often they can be easily found and watched online.
In the first years of cinematography, the exhibitors mostly used magic lantern slides to project films titles before the film’s projection. In Europe and in the United States, around 1902–1903, motion pictures started to be sold with edited titles on films, and edited subtitles on multi shot films. From around 1907, as the length and number of shots, subtitles and words increased, there was a kind of competition between the subtitle and the lecturer to explain the films to the audiences. In the transitional period – 1907–1916 –, the trade press and scenario manuals constantly debated subtitle usefulness and limits. On one hand the dream of cinematography as a universal language was incompatible with this device, and the strong ideal of the titleless film advocated that moving pictures should tell stories by themselves, without the aid of any external narration, like theatre plays. On the other hand, there were more realistic approaches: subtitles were unavoidable, as they were essential to make a film understandable. The main recommendation, however, was to use them very sparingly, and only when it was absolutely necessary, because they might spoil suspense by giving a summary of the action in advance, they were also considered to have an adverse impact on the “reality effect”, to be exterior to the story and to interrupt the flow of images. Despite the reluctances and ambivalences towards it, as the industry organized itself in the 1910’s the subtitle was retooled, and became conventional and largely used for the construction of the classical narrative film.
Seymour Chatman (born 1928) is an American film and literary critic, a professor emeritus of rhetoric at the University of California, Berkeley. He is one of the most significant figures of American narratology, being regarded as a prominent representative of its Structuralist or "classic" branch. Among his works are not only some analyses of Antonionis‘s films, his narratological books and articles – especially on problems of perspectivity – found much interest in filmtheoretical research.
As the exilic experience, initiated in 587 B.C.E., continued over millennia, no one has been able to settle the question of what it means to be a diaspora Jew. Are those who actively participate in non-Jewish life still in a position to claim the heritage of Israel? And what about Jews who actively seek assimilation and renounce their roots altogether: are they still Jews in spite of themselves? Authors, from Joseph Roth to Sholom Aleichem to Chaim Potok, have tried to deal with this issue in light of different diaspora circumstances. One of the most recent perspectives on Jewish identity comes to us through "Sunshine", a powerful film by the Hungarian director Istvan Szabó (1999). Szabó, who wrote the screenplay with Israel Horowitz, tells the story of several generations in one Hungarian Jewish family: the Sonnenscheins. Living at the turn of the twentieth century, the patriarch of the Sonnenschein clan is Emmanuel, a successful distiller who seems to have found a balance between the two exilic extremes: neither complete assimilation, nor a retreat from gentile society.
Since the fall of the Wall, a new era of East German literature has emerged. This genre of literature exists even though East Germany’s borders dissolved over a decade and half ago and is challenging the way we think about the former German Democratic Republic. East German author Thomas Brussig is pivotal in this new genre of literature. His novels Helden wie wir (1995), Am kürzeren Ende der Sonnenallee (1999) and Leander Haußmann’s cinematic adaptation, Sonnenallee (1999), confront the negative associations and stereotypes connected with East Germany to deconstruct how formal history has portrayed its past and its citizens. Brussig’s texts take a completely different approach to remembering the GDR, which simultaneously challenges history’s dominant perspective as well as the Ostalgie phenomenon. Through his texts’ recollection, Brussig subverts the East German state in hindsight and begins the construction of a new mythology with which to associate former East Germany.
In this paper I tried to demonstrate that the British films depicting football hooliganism could be viewed as glorifying violence. A considerably great number of scenes and a great amount of time devoted to the presentation of violence, together with the unpunished, painless and heroic aspects of such presentations are just one side of the glorifying coin. The other side is occupied with the deeper meaning of particular scenes or the general overtones of the films which seem to develop a tendency to present a hooligan firm as a family-like community that offers happiness and produces a strong feeling of belonging and solidarity that adds spice to the boring working or middle class life. Violent confrontations are depicted as a source of pleasurable emotional arousal that surpass other forms of enjoyment. Moreover, confronting other hooligans helps hooligans to construct hard masculine identity based on physical prowess. Finally, being a good fighter is a fast track to earning a reputation that provides hooligans with a sense of power and importance. Real hooligans starring in the films, thus potentially encouraging viewers to become “wannabe warriors”, is also of great importance. However, the way the audiences react to the on-screen presentation of violence with all its aspects is a topic for much broader research.
German Expressionist cinema is a movement that began in 1919. Expressionist film is marked by distinct visual features and performance styles that rebel against prior realist art movements. More than 20 years prior to the Expressionist movement, Sigmund Frued published "The Interpretation of Dreams" in 1899, a ground breaking study that links dreams to unconcious impulses. This thesis argues that the unexplained dream - like imagery found in two Expressionist films, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920) and Dr. Mabus, the Gambler (Fritz Lang, 1922) - can be seen in terms of Freud's model of dreaming.
This thesis examines three made-for-television ‘Event Movies’ from the German production company teamWorx, made between 2006 and 2007 – Dresden (2006), Nicht alle waren Mörder (2006) and Die Flucht (2007) – within the context of contemporary debates of ‘Vergangenheitsbewältigung’ or ‘coming to terms with the past’ in Germany. It will deal with specific debates in memory of the National Socialist past, namely representations of Germans as victims of the Second World War and memory of the Holocaust. Although in recent years the importance of teamWorx’s television films has begun to be acknowledged by scholars in both Germany and the UK, this thesis represents the first attempt to analyse these three Event Movies as a unit and to explore in-depth the teamWorx company and its attitudes to historical film. As such, two interviews will be relied on throughout this thesis, with chairman of the board Nico Hofmann and Die Flucht’s director Kai Wessel. In order to place the films within the context of contemporary debates on memory of the Nazi past in Germany, the thesis will undertake a filmic analysis of the Event Movies, supported by both the intentions of the filmmakers and critical responses in the contemporary press. Of primary importance for the thesis will be the twin concerns of the authenticity of teamWorx’s productions, as claimed by the filmmakers and the Event Movies’ borrowing of filmmaking devices from Hollywood genres, in particular the melodrama. Following this analysis it will be asked to what extent the Event Movies affect and reflect contemporary debates on the legacy of National Socialism and how these films contribute to the normalisation of the Nazi past in Germany.
Representations of the reasons and actions of terrorists have appeared in German literature tracing back to the age of Sturm und Drang of the 18th century, most notably in Heinrich von Kleist's Michael Kohlhaas and Friedrich Schiller's Die Räuber, and more recently since the radical actions of the Red Army Faction during the late 1960s and early 1970s, such as in Uli Edel's film, The Baader Meinhof Complex. By referring to Walter Benjamin's system of natural law and positive law, which provides definitions of differing codes of ethics with relation to state laws and personal ethics, one should be able to understand that Michael Kohlhaas, Karl Moor, and the members of the RAF are indeed represented as terrorists. However, their actions and motives are not without an internal ethics, which conflicts with that of their respective state-sanctioned authorities. This thesis reveals the similarities and differences in motives, methods, and use of violence in Schiller, Kleist, and representations of the RAF and explores how the turn to terrorism can arise from a logical realization that ideologies of state law do not align with the personal sense of justice and law of the individual.
Krzysztof Zanussi has been an increasingly major figure on the European film scene for the past decade, and today his reputation is beginning to spread throughout America. Critic Roger Ebert has called him "the best living maker of films about ideas" and his presence is constantly demanded by a growing list of American film festivals. The Museum of Fine Arts is most pleased to present the first major American retrospective of this important artist's work in film.
Walter Salles is probably the most widely known Brazilian director and producer. This article offers a portrait of his work over the last two decades as part of the cinematic and cultural changes that took place in Brazil. It starts with a historical overview of Brazilian film history and will then take a closer look at the films directed by Salles and his activities as producer. By looking at the evolution of the Brazilian film industry in the last ten to fifteen years in terms of market structures as well as aesthetic qualities, two major references become apparent: the more (but not only) commercial oriented productions of Globo Filmes, which often meet public taste and rely on a well-proven television language; second, the movies of Walter Salles as well as the films produced by Videofilmes, a company run and founded in 1987 by him and his brother, the documentarist João Moreira Salles. Videofilmes not only fosters many of the somewhat marginal, smaller film projects, but also serves as support for more artistically orientated movies.
Hollywood musicals combine two distinctive features: narrative and musical numbers, also referred to as “the real and the expressive” (Telotte 1980a, 4). These two equally important parts of any successful musical have to harmonize such that both seem appropriate in each scene and, ideally, supportive of each other. As musical numbers are traditionally seen as a “source of a tension” (ibid., 2) within the narrative, harmonization is not easy to achieve, and different directors as well as different sub-genres of the film musical have found different ways to deal with this tension. In this work, I will discuss two methods of integrating musical numbers into the plot of Hollywood musicals: the stage-worlds and the world-stages. While the former entails a certain kind of storyline, the latter refers to the setting of single numbers within the plot.
At the beginning of every story of murder there is always a body. If the murderer is a serial killer, there is, of course, more than one. More importantly, the bodies left by the serial killer are not likely to be intact and whole. What he leaves behind and what we, the audience, will get to see is the body in pieces, dismembered, scattered. A series of snapshots, partial views, and close-ups, inflicting cold sharp shocks, is all we may glimpse: the head of Benjamin Raspail floating in a jar of formaldehyde in The Silence of the Lambs, a finger removed by the serial killer from his landlord’s hand in Kalifornia, a ziploc bag of fingers recovered from a flooded drainpipe in When The Bough Breaks, a surgically severed hand used to leave misleading fingerprints on a wall at a crime scene in Seven.
On the following pages you will meet a strange cast of characters: field slaves from Mississippi, steel bands from Trinidad, sheriffs from Puerto Rieo. Mexican campesinos and senioritas, and, of course, the European musical stars who performed these American stereotypes in one of the most disparaged genres of German cinema, the 1950s West German revue film.