Showing posts with label Aggressification. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aggressification. Show all posts

15 June 2008

Some thoughts about movie violence

Some time ago, I posted something about the extremes to which certain kinds of sadistic violence are now being taken in some horror movies, in response to which Gracchi at Westminster Wisdom commented that violence can be essential to the purpose of a movie. I thought it might be worth taking the debate a little further, and the following exchange with Gracchi ensued.
Fabian: The problem I have with films such as Michael Haneke's (e.g. Funny Games) is not exactly violence in the usual sense of that word, but a kind of aggression by the author against the audience. I think you see something similar in much contemporary art and theatre - a desire to be in-yer-face, and to challenge the audience not to be offended, but without anything else very interesting being generated in the mind of the viewer. I found the following comment from MattM on your post interesting.

“I think that the way in which violence is portrayed is the key issue (for me at least). I have no problem with honest depictions: brutal, ugly, painful, etc. but find glamorised violence (as in most mainstream action movies) slightly disturbing - no scene with people being injured or killed should seem "cool". Violence hurts. Watching violence should hurt as well.”

In some ways I think the exact opposite of this. I think the violence in (e.g.) Bonnie & Clyde, where it's to some extent stylised, is much more tolerable than the violence in torture porn movies, where it's highly realistic. I find some Tarantino movies offensive, not because he glamorises violence, but because he realistically shows sadism and suffering, and presents it as amusing. I think 'realism' is an overrated quality in movies - in my opinion movies can't be, and to some extent shouldn't try to be, about reality.

Gracchi: I can see your point about the torture porn movies- I think they are repugnant and I had for a moment to think why I think they are repugnant. It is in part because of their nihilism- their lack of any purpose, this is violence for the sake of being violent often and that doesn't interest me and I suspect doesn't interest you. But in reality that isn't where we are debating, I think what you are getting at here is that sometimes reality can be too horrifying to represent. And I agree with you if your point is that there are some realities that some people- kids most importantly shouldn't see. But adults...

I'm not sure about this. I suppose the interesting film to analyse from this perspective is Downfall where you see any number of shocking violent images- and it is on films like Downfall, Casino and Goodfellas that I would rest my case. Downfall is a really interesting movie- from the point of view that if you want to understand what happened in 1945 in Berlin you can't really do without a hell of a lot of violence- and if you want to understand what happened you have to imagine a great deal of violence which got there. Strip out the violence and Downfall can't really say as much about the Nazi regime and the destruction that they caused as it did. As a historian, I always find the written word to be quite antiseptic- understanding that 2,000 people were killed at Drogheda doesn't mean anything, seeing it on a screen means a great deal more. Cinema enables us to capture barbarity.

I suppose there is the argument that language should not represent reality- and cinema after all is another form of language (a particularly emotive and effective form but still a form of language) and that we should represent the world by analogy. I suppose I have a single problem with that and it’s like my problem with the difference between the words “100 people died” and the camera showing you 100 people dying, between the concept of the Germans abandoning the wounded within hospitals and actually seeing those abandoned played by actors on a movie screen, it’s antiseptic. Analogy takes out the meaning, it drains the communication of its force and therefore it means that we don't understand it as completely as we should. We can never say grapple with the immensity of the horrors of war, but seeing them can make us understand for a millisecond something of why war is horrible.

In a sense I share Orwell's worries, we should not sanitise communication for fear of the lack of meaning that a sanitised communication has. In his essay on politics and the English language, Orwell I think got to something rather important- that words need to communicate and the success of communication lies in realism- as soon as you dilute that realism you do not lead us to understand, you lead us to misunderstand reality.

Fabian: ‘Realism’, in the sense of ‘correspondence with real experience’ is a rather elusive quality in movies. I think you know it when you see it, and it doesn’t necessarily have much to do with how much is shown. Blair Witch Project is horror but a fairly ‘realistic’ movie, whereas Oliver Stone's JFK feels like fantasy even if all the facts represented in it are true. One important thing is that movies are shot from the point of view of an individual observer; they are therefore incapable of generating objectivity in the way a history book could. I think that realism in cinema isn’t about showing everything there is to be shown, and leaving things out isn’t necessarily suppression. The question is, would an observer in that position choose to investigate in detail e.g. the gore of an injury? Probably not, unless they’re depraved, so unless you have some worthy goal (e.g. to rub in how terrible Nazism was) the effect of doing so will be to make the viewer become a voyeur against their will.

I haven’t managed to sit through Downfall though I’ve tried, because it seems a rather boringly grim film, and doesn’t give me interesting perspectives on Nazism, but I suspect that the horror you refer to would probably not bother me that much. I find it much more disturbing when realistic suffering is inserted into movies that are essentially pure entertainment – Kill Bill, Hostel, even Pan’s Labyrinth.

I wouldn’t ever say* about anything that people (even children) “shouldn’t see it”. What I might say to individual film makers or artists is, “I question your motivation in showing this”, in the way that someone else might say “I think you should think twice before showing movies which portray Muslims as objectionable”. With regard to children, I am critical of the opposite ideology, the one which says it’s good for them to be exposed to ‘reality’ so we should encourage showing them the more unpleasant aspects, supposedly as preparation for real life.

If you want to have an effect on your audience – e.g. make them feel the horrors of Nazism – I don’t believe you need to get explicit. That is one of the wonders of the language of cinema, that devices often work better than literalness. Though perhaps you do need to get more explicit nowadays, and that is a problem with using that sort of realism – you re-educate the audience and change the standards, and then everyone has to talk in the same language, subtlety no longer works. But before the standards were shifted, it was possible to generate horror without gore, eroticism without showing the mechanics of sex, and so on. So I don’t agree that “analogy takes out the meaning”.

When you talk about “sanitising communication”, you seem to be assuming a starting point of explicit violence, and implying my position as being one of wanting to remove those elements. It seems to me a false dichotomy that one either has to approve of explicitness, or endorse censorship. I would express the issue the other way round: I see people like Eli Roth, Tarantino or Haneke as wanting to aggressify communication. I regard the insertion of explicitness, which has become a fashion that seems to affect all sorts of visual products, not just movies – TV soaps, contemporary art, museum exhibitions – as an expression of hostility towards the audience.
* * * * *



So-called 'realism' (in movies etc.) is a form of aggression against those members of the audience who find its presentations offensive. However, the aggression is 'legitimised' by reference to the fact that the sensibilities being offended can be regarded as bourgeois.

The point is not to make people more aware of reality, but to make them feel hopeless and degraded. A dejected person is more likely to surrender to the collective, and is therefore more useful to mediocracy.


(*) Some thoughts on the issue of censorship here.

21 November 2007

Where will you (the audience) draw the line?

Will you draw it here?

As Josh begs for his life, Vlasák slashes his Achilles tendons with a scapel and allows him to leave. Unable to walk, Josh tries crawling to freedom, before the Dutchman drags him back into the cell and kills him.

As Paxton begs for his life in German, the client gags Paxton and saws off two of Paxton's fingers with a chainsaw ... Paxton follows Vlasák to a public restroom, where he cuts off two of the man's fingers, bludgeons his face into the toilet bowl and slits his throat as he begs for his life.

Eli Roth ... peppily refers to a scene ... in which a businessman directs a blowtorch on the eye of a bound female victim until it dangles uselessly from its socket, as the 'eye-gasm'. *

Or here?

Liz ... manages to escape by cutting the cable ties that bind her hands together, and as night falls she discovers Mick torturing Kristy by shooting at her, tormenting her and sexually abusing her.
Liz ... gets into a car and attempts to start it but Taylor announces himself with a sinister chuckle and stabs her through the driver's seat with a huge knife. He then cuts off some of her fingers, severs her spinal cord (making what Mick calls "a head on a stick") and tortures her to reveal the location of Kristy.

Or maybe here?

Tenia brutally rapes Marcus's girlfriend Alex and puts her into a coma. ... This scene is filmed using a single, unbroken take, lasting nine minutes. After Tenia rapes Alex, he repeatedly punches and kicks at her head and stomach.

Or possibly here?

The shocking sequences in Eastern Promises, which centres on the Russian mafia in London, include one in which a knife is twisted repeatedly and gleefully into a man’s eye and two showing victims having their throats cut in graphic detail.

I don't see why audiences would ever draw the line. If the mediocratic elite (film directors, critics, official censors) tell them it's okay, why should the audience question this?

We have of course the usual rationalisations of pseudo-iconoclasm:
'challenge', 'radical', 'confronting', 'risk-taking', and so forth.

When, during filming, the actor playing the most sadistic of the psychos [in Robert Zombie's The Devil's Rejects] became traumatized by what he had to do, Zombie reportedly told him, “Art is not safe.” **

“Scenes that make people turn away are part of the fun of going to movies,” said the British Board of Film Classification in defence of allowing Eastern Promises to screen without cuts.

The ethos of making pain, suffering and torture acceptable entertainment isn't confined to the more obviously shocking horror movies. Recently I watched Pan's Labyrinth, thinking it would be an amusing mix of political history and magical realism. In fact, at least half the point of it seemed to be to show torture and sadism.

Displaying the goriness of injuries full-on has become a standard feature of even the most innocuous dramas. Torchwood and Cranford are two recent examples where we were shown more of this than necessary. I am guessing here, but I imagine a two-fold rationale is being employed: the ideological one (it is 'real'), and the one about demand (it boosts viewing figures).

It is hard to believe that watching this kind of material does not have some effect on people's attitudes. It's easy to scoff at the idea that it encourages people to imitate the behaviour of the fictional psychopaths. While it may not make anyone commit murders who wouldn't have done so anyway, it may encourage those who do murder to behave more callously towards their victims. More to the point, it may make ordinary people feel less inhibited about behaving sadistically in everyday situations, towards (say) their spouses, or their elderly parents.

Perhaps the prevalence of these movies is part of the reason why many in the West nowadays seem to feel more relaxed about contemplating the use of torture in interrogation.



* Daily Telegraph
** David Edelstein

Update
More thoughts on movie violence, from Westminster Wisdom

11 September 2007

Making torture seem enjoyable



Jonathan Coe in the Observer on offerings at the Edinburgh Film Festival, highlighting the gratuitous sadism which appears to be becoming a standard feature of contemporary cinema:

I'm now sitting watching a man struggle as he is held down and his arms are repeatedly punctured with a staple gun. I avert my eyes and look down at the floor while the air continues to ring with his screams of agony. Not long ago, I saw one of his eyes being gouged out with an oyster knife. But I've been through worse. Two days before this, it was a man being tied to his chair while a deranged woman hammered nails into his fingers and smashed his kneecaps with a sledgehammer. ...

On Sunday, it was 'Extraordinary Rendition', Jim Threapleton's debut feature about a college lecturer who is abducted by the CIA and spirited off to a remote detention centre until a confession has been tortured out of him. I seem to remember some fingernail agony in this one, although again I had my eyes closed for most of the time. ...

A mediocracy prides itself on its unshockability. Torture, unusual types of sex, bodily fluids, decapitation, painful death — such things are deemed acceptable material for representations, and one is expected to be able to stomach them.

So-called 'realism' is a form of aggression against those members of the audience who find its presentations offensive. However, the aggression is 'legitimised' by reference to the fact that the sensibilities being offended can be regarded as bourgeois. The point is not to make people more aware of reality, but to make them feel hopeless and degraded. A dejected person is more likely to surrender to the collective, and is therefore more useful to mediocracy.

10 September 2007

Making torture seem acceptable


The old inhibitions against torture are slowly being worn away. (With the help of certain blogs that should know better.) According to the Independent, "Britain intervened last month in a case before the European Court of Human Rights which, if it goes Whitehall's way, would make torture at least excusable if not forgivable."

Liberty has been on the case. But as Shami Chakrabarti points out, the erosion of resistance to the idea of torture is not confined to the legal arena. We find it culturally too — in, of all places, the Harry Potter books. Although I found the early Potter books a nice antidote to the grimness and degradation that passes for 'realism' in much contemporary children's literature, I thought I detected a creeping note of mediocracy as the series went on. In Order of the Phoenix, the psychological theme seems to be: Harry gets stroppy, impatient with normal procedure; demands drastic action, immediate social change, "why don't you people do something?" A bit like Tony Blair banging the table and demanding to know why he cannot just rewrite the legislation to solve the latest crisis. Attributable to mere teenage moodiness? Possibly, though Rowling makes little attempt to suggest there is anything wrong with Harry's reactions.

In Deathly Hallows, this pressure to shift the moral and legal boundaries continues. The Crucio curse is equivalent to torture, and its application would normally earn the culprit a life sentence in the nightmare prison of Azkaban. Previously, Harry had failed in his attempt to use it, which seemed to be linked to his essentially non-malicious personality, and it was all presented as a fairly big deal. In the latest book, however, the debate appears to have moved on. Harry successfully applies the curse as a punishment for spitting, and little fuss is made about it.

Potter is hiding under his cloak of invisibility when Amycus, a minor henchman of the arch evildoer Voldemort, makes the mistake of spitting on one of the hero's favourite teachers at Hogwarts, Professor Minerva McGonagall. Incensed, Harry casts the Crucio curse again, and this time it works.

McGonagall's reaction?

"... Potter, that was foolish!"
"He spat at you," said Harry.
"Potter, I – that was very – very gallant of you – but don't you realise –?"
"Yeah, I do."

And with that, the matter is dropped.

I'm with Ms Chakrabarti on this. Torture should never be presented as acceptable, not even in books, and certainly not in children's books.

14 June 2007

Sadism as postmodern entertainment



I have never watched The Sopranos. (A) because I don't enjoy watching violence, and (B) because I consider the whole crime-as-sexy-and-amusing ethos phoney. To the extent there are real people who commit acts of the kind portrayed in this genre (see e.g. Guy Ritchie and imitators) I very much doubt they are sexy or amusing characters — unless you have very warped definitions of 'sexy' or 'amusing'.

However, this comment (from the head of an online investment service) surprised me, as I hadn't realised the programme was quite so explicit in its portrayal of in-yer-face brutality.
[Tuesday's action on Wall Street] reminded me of the last episode of The Sopranos, probably the most savagely violent TV series ever created. I stopped watching it three, four, five years ago when four or five thugs took one of their own out on a boat and filled him full of holes. Just before the first shot, the ill-fated hoodlum pleaded, "Please don't shoot me in the face."

In this widely feted and praised last episode (which I decided to watch), an anonymous figure walked up to one of the family hooligans and shot him in the head. The assassin dashed to his car and sped away. In the meantime, the car the dead man had stepped out of began to roll. It rolled over the dead man's head pointlessly, thereby achieving an all-time-high of putrid taste on TV. (At least they didn't show the squoosh.) One of the pedestrian onlookers got the point across by throwing up.
If this is a taste of what the programme is like, I'm astonished. One anticipates this kind of stuff by now in X-rated gangster movies, but in a mainstream drama programme? In which we are expected to semi-indentify with the criminals? And this is the series which Damian Whitworth described as "the greatest TV show ever made" in yesterday's Times? (Good old Times, keeping well up with the latest mediocratic trends.)

Perhaps some readers find the programme entertaining, and think I am being squeamish. I dare say it is possible for most people to reach a point where they stop finding a given level of horror shocking. Personally, however, I doubt that it's desirable to become desensitised to things that would once have made one feel sick, unless one is a surgeon or a soldier.

Also in yesterday's Times, the case of a woman set alight in a country lane and left to die an agonising death. Of course there is nothing new in people wanting to kill other people, but I do wonder whether the inventive styles now employed for doing so owe anything to the sadism-as-amusement concept exploited so effectively by Quentin Tarantino and others.

Update
More waxing lyrical about The Sopranos from The Times, this time from Ben Macintyre. It's both Shakespearean and Dickensian, apparently.
"Like Shakespeare, David Chase, the creator of the series, revelled in food and sex, bawdy jokes, cruel satire and vivid metaphor. The perfect hit, says Uncle Junior, should be “as silent as a mouse pissing on cotton”. The Sopranos demanded and deserved to be treated as high art. But if the programme’s ambitions were Shakespearean, its detail was Dickensian ..."