2/8/2019 0 Comments review: 'Inside Out'I’ve been meaning to see Inside Out for absolutely ages. I’d heard so many people talk about it; ruminate over the characters and I was intrigued by the sound of its plot. Somehow, it took four more years for me to sit down to view it. Either way, I’m glad I did.
To give a rough overview, Inside Out follows the life of Riley, an 11-year-old girl with a happy life until her parents move her across the country to a new town. There is an operating system inside her mind where ‘people’ represent different emotions. There’s Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Anger and Fear. They all switch to take control over Riley’s emotions, and therefore actions, at different moments throughout the film. It acts as the physical representation of the mind. I really do admire the writing of Inside Out. It gives a depth to the film that isn’t present in most animated films, or in most films in fact. It had me thinking a lot about psychology and the brain and how emotions control us. Sometimes we don’t understand why we act the way we do and this film is an attempt to explain this; that how we deal with our emotions affects the way we face the world. Keeping them under control keeps your real personality intact. The dominant emotions inside the parent’s heads are particularly interesting to me. In the mother’s, sadness is in control. In the father’s, anger is in control. The contrast between this and the confidence of Joy in Riley shows that as we get older, we don’t just change physically or think differently, but we feel differently. And a lot of the time we feel more negatively. The journey to get Joy back into Riley’s body, as a result, reflects what we should be doing as adults too. When Riley moves house, adulthood arrives sooner than expected, and that is why her emotions negatively alter. She has to find her way back to those childlike feelings. As adults, we must do the same; we must find that ease of happiness that we lost when we stopped being a child. The film uses Riley’s story as a metaphor for our journey for personal growth as adults too. The ending is particularly important in representing this theme of personal growth, since Joy and Sadness combine themselves to send off a ball of memory that is both happy and sad. To embrace the cliché, the moral of the story is that you cannot have one or the other. The characters spend majority of the film trying to get Joy back into the control centre; however, ironically, the joy of Joy returning would not have been so great if it weren’t for Sadness controlling Riley in between. Sadness is actually my favourite because of this; I feel a lot for her character, but she cannot help being sad. We, as humans, cannot help feeling sad either. Instead, we should accept it so that one day the happiness will consume it and use it to fuel better memories. Joy and Sadness remain as friends and this is how we should tackle difficult times in our own life – for every sad memory, we have many great ones. There are so many ways to unpick and analyse Inside Out – far more than I’ve explored here. I think this film is really interesting to watch, especially if you like thinking about how the mind works and how emotions affect us. There is often an internal war that creates conflict between emotions and actions – evident in Riley’s life – but it is ultimately overcome by the practice of control and understanding. To understand Riley’s mind is only the start to understanding your own. Alice Davies.
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I’m a huge fan of Black Mirror, so to unexpectedly come across not a new episode but a new interactive film was an exciting moment. Surrounding myself in just the right atmosphere so that I felt immersed but not too terrified for my life, I spent all afternoon watching it.
What I love so much about Bandersnatch is that it has similar vibes to past Black Mirror episodes, and yet it is taken to a whole new level. The idea of an interactive film is already exciting in itself, but of course, the writer Charlie Brooker could not fail to make this more than just a simple choice game. It becomes more of a choice game that reaches out to life as a whole; that makes the watcher question their own choices in their own life, not just in the film. I found that once I’d reached one of the endings, Netflix allowed me to go back and make different choices to see different endings. I like that this was possible without watching the entire film again. It also makes for a wider analysis of the film; if alternate realities exist, there is not only one ending. We can try and reach an outcome in our life but it’s inevitably futile, since we reach all different possible conclusions in the amalgamation of our realities. There was one ending of Bandersnatch where a woman watches Stefan on a computer. That “inception” of controlling the controller really sums up the purpose of the film: we are stuck in a maze where there is no way of knowing what is controllable or what constitutes an “ending”. Is there even a concept called an “ending”? It seems that the film’s lack of a “real” ending answers this; there is no solution. And in that, we are left questioning in attempt to gain control for the rest of time. We are simply powerless. It is interesting how Stefan’s vast and abstract thinking is outwardly deemed as madness by his Father, as if madness is this solution we jump to when we don’t understand. There is a certain kind of madness to Stefan’s contemplation of being controlled; however, there is equally nothing to prove that we have full control of our lives. Without a level of madness, nothing can be created (similar to the video game itself). Black Mirror is something that accepts and appreciates madness in a way no other TV show really does. None of us can comprehend the world, therefore aren’t we all mad? In this respect, the writing of Bandersnatch is nothing short of phenomenal. The acting and cinematography allow the writing to shine in its best light and just about everything works for me. Black Mirror never fails to create an atmosphere unlike any other and I always find myself completely immersed in the world that it brings to TV. After watching Bandersnatch, I’m not sure I’ll be able to think straight for at least 24 hours, but only in the best way possible. Alice Davies 12/7/2018 0 Comments The Horror of horror part 2I previously looked at the way the new Halloween took the unknown and made it known, depriving the movie of its horror. So when it takes away the fear of the unknown that unsettles humans, is the horror always lost? Take an original horror from 2018 such as Hereditary. Although a divisive movie it has still earned a reputation by many as one of the best horrors in recent years. It uses the genre of horror in its most effective way, by making the horror an extension of the internal struggles of the characters. For me Hereditary isn’t just about grief or mental health, it’s about unresolved issues within a family and a family’s inability to communicate, which in the end is what destroys them. These themes are reflected in the possession of the family. For some, the ending may seem too definitive. The family is possessed by the demon Paimon who is explained at times by books and the character of Joan at the end. Although it could be argued if this side of the film is actually real it is still presented with clear answers at times. For me, as much as I still enjoyed this side of the story, it didn’t scare or disturb me as much as the devastation of the family, such as the mother’s screams after the death of her daughter, or the brother’s shock reaction of the death as he leaves his sister’s body for his mother to find. It is both extremely personal and relatable on some level. If you’ve ever broken anything at home and then just left it for your parents to find as you wait on tender hooks for the reaction, then the brother’s reaction feels like this only on a much more tragic level. So it’s when the unknown shrouds the film where it is most effective, when we see the family break apart in awful ways whilst strange pagan symbols and weird spectral figures surround them (and are undisclosed at first) fills the movie with a sense of unease, as it is both entirely relatable but also slightly strange.
I’d like to bring it back now to a current horror movie that has ties to a classic horror like Halloween. Recently Luca Guadagino released his reboot/’companion piece’ of Suspiria. Although not classed as a sequel like Halloween it still takes the original and tries to reshape it for a new age. Despite being very different in style it still reflects the way horror works and tries to scare us. The original Suspiria was a haunting nightmare. Dario Argento shot his movie in neon colours, contrasting between blues and reds. Elaborate murder scenes were staged alongside invasive music as a plot about witchcraft that is never entirely explained bubbles underneath. There are probably views on what the horror represents, but Argento’s movie is more of an immersive experience that draws you into the nightmare world that is always one step away from reality. It does this all through its visuals, always showing not telling. When Susie arrives, walking through what would normally be a mundane airport lobby, the mixture of camera, lights and music makes everything nightmarish. By making the mundane haunting it gives us a feeling that something dark is always hidden underneath the surface and nowhere is safe. Even if the plot or themes go over your head (despite them not being central anyway) it’s visuals immerse you into the world. This is what makes it so haunting, it scares you by presenting a world that can’t always be explained, just like nightmares. With Guadagino’s new movie he emphasises the major themes throughout. In the background of the original there are hints of Germany’s guilt as a nation but nothing is ever truly explicit. Guadagino pushes this theme along with ideas of abuses of power and even motherhood. At times in the film the horror may be lost because by making this movie an hour longer it fills this time with dialogue that can feel very preachy at times as it drills in the themes, telling us most of the time rather than showing. So at times we aren’t immersed in a nightmare world because of the prominent thematic context. But then Guadagino is doing what most successful horrors do, taking issues and ideas and reflecting that in the horror. And once the horror is unleashed it does become disturbing, because although it is halted by the exposition it uses the themes to great effect. The ideas of motherhood with the witches weave into the abuse of power because they are only using the students for their own gain. Also, the witchcraft area is also an unexplained supernatural part, that causes awful gore and pain for the characters we have followed. It’s here where the film succeeds. It’s not as expressionist or nightmarish as the original, where the original used certain themes as subtext it’s horror was in its atmosphere. The new version suffers greatly though from people telling us the plot and themes, it doesn’t work on the cinematic level of the original that tells its story and horror visually. Once again telling and being explicit is not as scary as being ambiguous and keeping the audience in some sort of unknown. Horror then seems to work when it follows one of the golden rules of filmmaking and writing, show don’t tell because when we are told as an audience, everything becomes clear. Once things are clear there’s no room for the fear of the unknown which is something that unnerves most people. Maybe this isn’t the way horror works for you, perhaps when things are explained it makes it more real for you and scarier. But horror can also be relatable whilst also being shrouded in the unknown. Maybe the new version of Suspiria disturbed you more so than the original because by making the larger themes central it meant you could relate and see the horror in the real world. Or maybe you enjoy horror where there are gaps left for you to fill in, because that could be scarier than a movie full of explanations. Written by Reed Chapman 12/3/2018 0 Comments The horror of horrorThere are two possible ways you can be horrified at horror movies. On the one hand there is the genuine terror you feel when watching a successful horror that truly gets under your skin, and either gives you that burst of fear either in the moment or that lingering disturbing thought that stays with you once you’ve left the theatre or room. On the other hand, there is the horror of watching a bad and ineffective horror that leaves you empty and undisturbed because the movie has failed to scare you.
I’m not one to speak negatively about movies often and at times I don’t like to because I still respect the film, but contrary it seems to popular opinion I really didn’t enjoy the new Halloween. It fell into the latter of my two ways of being horrified at horror. But I don’t want this to be an attack on Halloween because once I saw it it made me begin to mull over why the movie didn’t work for me and what does work for me in horror. I recalled the horror movies of 2018 such as Halloween, Suspiria and Hereditary and thought they would be good examples of trying to explain where they succeeded in being successful horror, whilst also looking at some classics like the original Halloween and original Suspiria to try and present the differences in the way horror can be successful. A lot of what we fear is unseen, the unknown and the ambiguous. A loud noise in the middle of the night scares us just because it is unexpected and happens at a time when the darkness limits our sight. Horror then is something that is lacking and can’t be explained. If there is an absence somewhere that we don’t understand it is something that scares us. The original Halloween used the character of Michael Myers to represent an evil in the world. He is something that can’t be explained by psychologists, which is only briefly spoken about in the original by doctor Loomis. Michael then is something no one can control or understand in his motives, which makes him scary. With Michael’s escape for the first 2/3 of the movie he is almost a spectral figure, watching the people of Haddonfield. Most of the shots of him are seen in the distance, mainly from Laurie Strode’s perspective, as he watches her in class, or amongst bedsheets on the washing line in her garden. When it is from his perspective we never see his face, only his body, which creates a creeping dread as he follows schoolkids and other young people around. He becomes a boogeyman, his horror conveyed through the camera work of making him a haunting figure along with Dr Loomis’ speech on his unexplained evil. The new Halloween, for me, lost all these idea and themes. At the end of the original, Michael is shot and falls from a window. When they look for him he has vanished. As this boogeyman and figure of evil, it represents how this evil in the world cannot die and it will forever be out there killing. And that’s scary, the ending isn’t resolute and the suggestion of the continuation of violence is scary. So a nature of a sequel, as there have been many, maybe doesn’t work from this point anyway. So, with the 2018 sequel it seemed the filmmakers may understand this as they have scrapped all the other sequels. But they still don’t get what makes Michael Myers scary, despite many critics feeling they have. The reality of seeing the continuing evil isn’t as scary as the suggestion of the original. Michael Myers, as he’s become so popular in our culture now, is represented as such in the movie. There are lengthy dialogue scenes with two journalists who open the movie along with monologues by Michael’s new psychologist that beat this idea of evil to death. It’s extremely heavy handed and makes this unexplainable idea seem quite explainable now. He is just pure evil, but in a way that is fascinating and iconic which movies seem to revel in making cool. The camera work used to show Michael also seems to lose what makes him scary. To begin with, we still don’t see his face but once he gets his mask, and his knife the filmmakers make such a big deal out of these scenes Michael almost becomes this cool villain like in some sort of comic book. He almost becomes some sort of myth. Put this alongside the numerous murders he commits, where he is seen constantly throughout so there is never any fear of where he is, the movie becomes an action/thriller where Michal isn’t scary, he’s just there. Even in the climax as characters hide in the basement we see all of Michael’s movements above so we know exactly where he is, he is never unseen so there is never any suspense. The filmmakers still seem to respect the original and understand Michael’s unbiased killing but the way this is filmed makes Michael a villain that is present too much, his evil is explained and the unknown side of the horror movie is lost. It was a failure of the film for me as I felt the beginning of the film had clunky, heavy-handed, telling not showing dialogue that made me want the horror to begin. But when it did, I was still unmoved. Perhaps this was to do with me finding the characters unbearable so there was nothing to fear. But also Michael never scared me, and as a boogeyman encompassing an evil in the world that can’t be killed, he should. The unknown that makes horror scary is seen in many of the classic or successful horrors. The original Exorcist has an unspecified demon, but represents an evil in the world that is an extension of why Father Karras has a crisis of faith. This theme is central to the movie and is only successful in the ambiguity of evil. The following Exorcist sequels seek to answer what the demon was, completely ruining the ideas presented in the first. Freddy Krueger in Nightmare on Elm Street is given some backstory, but is still an extension of nightmares that are unexplainable in themselves. Even taking another slasher such as the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the character of Leatherface and his surrounding family are never given motive, they just seem crazy and it’s the lack of exposition that makes them scarier. Once again ruined by many sequels delving into unwanted backstory. Even a character such as Hannibal Lecter is scarier when his character’s evil is left to the imagination. For much of Silence of the Lambs there is a barrier between him and Starling. But his crimes, which are briefly spoken of surround him in his prison, and his scariness is projected just through his speech and working his way into characters’ minds, making him uncontrollable, even when he is supposedly controlled and incarcerated. With the book and movie Hannibal Rising, his backstory is given, making him more relatable and human and the air of the unknown is lost. So when something becomes completely understood and explainable does this make horror lose its horror? I will explore this question further by looking at two recent horrors; Hereditary and Suspiria along with the original Suspiria from 1977. Written by Reed Chapman Right now we are living in a golden age of streaming services, for £7.99 a month just one streaming service can offer multiple accounts and an endless selection of film and television to choose from. However, the age of sharing accounts and piggybacking off your parents or housemates will soon come to an end. In true capitalist form, the wheels are already I motion to make services like Netflix and Amazon Prime more profitable for the companies and worse for us. On the dawn of Disney launching their own streaming service, it becomes clear that soon the public will be paying much more money across multiple streaming sites, to still receive the same or fewer titles.
When considering the current form of streaming services like Netflix, a lot of what we see is made, produced and distributed within this one company. However, there are also countless options - network TV shows, old movies, independent productions, or movies that have just finished their theatrical release. A study from 2017 found that licenced content (Not produced by the distributor) made up 80% of what people watch. Services like Netflix and Amazon pay to licence this content from the studios, and this is a big part of their business, but this is also beneficial to the studios, because if they want their work to be seen, then they need to go to where the viewers are. Streaming is becoming the new superpower, just last year Netflix gained 30 million new subscribers, a trend which corresponds with the fact that broadcast TV is reporting less and fewer viewers every year. Next year Disney plans to launch their own streaming service, a direct competitor to Netflix, and although they have taken their time to jump onto the streaming band-waggon, they have so much popular content that there is no doubt that they won't have fans lining up to subscribe. Disney owns Pixar, Marvel, 20th Century Fox, and Lucas Films, some of the biggest and most popular studios, and when Disney launch their new service, it would be a safe bet to assume that these titles will be pulled from all other services. What does this mean?It seems like every studio or production house is leaning into the undoubted popularity of streaming as the new major distribution method. This means that more and more studios are vertically integrating their services, thus making less and less third-party content available to licence across other services. If you want to follow all the movies and shows that you love, then people will be forced to pay for every service, which could soon mean that viewers are subscribing to five or more services, and that may be a low estimate! I would argue that Netflix is getting themselves ready for this major hit. Have you been noticing more and more Netflix originals lately? That is because Netflix is betting that even if you can't find the latest Marvel film or Disney show, you will still stick around to watch shows like Stranger Things and BoJack Horseman. They are building their library to make themselves to valuable to lose. This seems to remind me of the vertical integration that took place during the Hollywood golden age, studios were involved during every step of the filmmaking process, a process which became so exclusive and limiting that there were only five major studios producing popular content. Vertical integration means that the public is loosing out, we are unable to find or have access to new and original content, and studios may become lazy, reproducing the same narratives, directors and actors because they know that they are too powerful to lose. Streaming may soon be heading in a dark direction, but can anything be done to stop it? Alex Smith 11/1/2018 0 Comments Review : Indignation (2016)I would describe this movie as a combination of beauty and sadness. "Indignation" talks about delicate issues like sexual expression (related to women) and atheism on a conservative society that hang on to tradition. In this case, the movie is set on the north american society in the early 50's. The two main characters are in a constantly fight between their believes and the values of a classic society
The director was very precise setting up the atmosphere for the movie. It looks old and really classic almost in every way I could imagine. In fact, I was very surprised to know that this was the debut film of James Schamus. Nevertheless, his long career as a producer makes here the difference and the movie looks incredible. And sometimes, I have to say that this film even reminds me to the fantastic "Carol" (2015), and that's saying something On the other hand, the acting is extremely good. Logan Lerman and Sarah Gadon are fantastic and they carry without any problem the weight of such complex characters. I love both of them as a couple too, they seem so natural together, filled with a palpable vulnerability that made me anxious about their situation, thus capturing the essence of their characters to perfection. As you can see, I liked "Indignation", in fact, I liked it a lot. It's a pitty that this film isn't getting much attention because it's fantastic. It talks about really important issues that we can see reflected in our current society. I found it extremely intesting and I love a lot scenes from it like a 20 minutes conversation between Logan Lerman and the College's principal. Try to watch it, and just enjoy one of the best Philip Roth's adaptions ever brought to screen. Victor Salmerón 11/1/2018 0 Comments 2018/2019 flog!Hello film lovers! This is the first of UEA’s Film-making societies 2018/2019 weekly film blog. We will explore anything film related and want to see anything and everything you have to offer; be it a review, essay, a piece of academic work, commentary on the current state of the film-making industry, or even a video essay!
This has been a year of ups and downs in the film-making world, politics, issues of representation and movements such as ‘Me Too’ are shaping and changing the way the industry works and as a result changing the way films are being made. We can't wait to see what you guys have in store for us! Thanks for reading! Alex 3/19/2018 0 Comments The Felicitous Indian Princess: Representations Of Native American Women In HollywoodHollywood has in the last century become the main cradle of cultural discourse; therefore, when it persistently illustrates a certain image of a race of people audiences begin to develop a false sense of reality. Searching the words ‘Native American’ on the Internet presents multiple images of stoic, indigenous men in headdresses and buckskin clothing. Indeed, these are some Native Americans, however, they are Native Americans from the past, perfectly encapsulating how the Native image has been crafted to illustrate the people belong to an extinct civilization, even up to the twenty-first century. Native Americans are often seen as a culture belonging to America’s history, one that was alive during the Frontier-era, and has now all but vanished.[1] Reigniting the seemingly abandoned discussion of the performance of Native American culture through white Eurocentric minds so determined to maintain racial supremacy, will open up a discussion on issues of identity and representation, as well as the exaggerated performance of whiteness and using the Native American female’s body to maintain the socio-political structure controlled by white Hollywood. The issue of Native American identity can be a controversial and incredibly complicated topic, with a whole plethora of issues. However this particular blog post will focus on Hollywood’s creation of a Native American identity to fit the needs of the white man.
In examining Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans we must also delve into the American mindset. The most crucial aspect of ‘Americanness’ dates back to the formation of the American nation. ‘Manifest destiny’ was a term coined around the mid 19th century to explain the white settlers’ goal in the New World. Merk and Merk argue that, “…it meant expansion, prearranged by Heaven, over an area not clearly defined. In some minds it meant expansion over the region to the Pacific; in others, over the North American continent.”[2] It formed the roots of the settlers apparent holy ‘right’ to conquer the new land. Along with the new world came the Indigenous “savages” of the Americas. Some may associate the primitive world with barbarism and savagery, however, the uniqueness of the Native American people to the settlers was illustrated in the form of a romanticized superlative. The idealisation of the primitive world lies in our subconscious desire to return to a place were “these fortunate people possessed just those virtues so many commentators found lacking in their own times: sexual innocence… peaceful simplicity… and vigorous minds unsullied by the wiles, complexities, and sophistication of modern civilization.”[3] Perhaps this is why white Americans romanticized the Indigenous culture. However, the conquering of the land was not enough: the white settlers strived for a deeper physical connection. The Native American people, indigenous to the land, were thus seen as a way to tie a spiritual knot, and this manifested itself in the form of the Native American woman. Figures like Pocahontas, although over time becoming a construct of white conservative ideals, illustrated how whites thought of conforming Native Americans. She “became a mark of “authentic” Americanness, a way for colonials and their descendants to prove their deep and mythical connection to the new continent.”[4] Examining Native American women in films will, therefore, allow for a deeper understanding into these fears. Firstly, it is a subject that is often overlooked, or briefly touched upon. Native American studies within film often focus on Native Americans as a collective culture rather than individual nations (even though there were lots of different ‘tribes’ speaking hundreds of different languages, but that’s an issue for another time), or on Indigenous men. The female’s role in Hollywood is rarely observed in such detail, and perhaps this is because in the early half of the twentieth century, Native female roles were minimal, so one would (maybe) be forgiven for loosing them to the pages of history. However, it is extremely important to examine the female character in greater detail as, more often than not, the Hollywood Native female is a symbol for the social and political fears of the period. Inevitable Assimilation The new land is an anthropomorphized version of the Native female body, untouched by civilization and a virgin in the hands of modernity. Hollywood’s representation of Native American women involves the ideology of acquiescent assimilation and the desire to progress into a ‘civilized’ white world. The subconscious desire to maintain racial supremacy can be seen, across Hollywood films of the fifties, through the white characters’ interaction with ethnic minorities. African American characters, for instance, are either degraded and shown as simple minded, or become the white man’s ‘side-kick’. Audrey Foster eloquently explains the history of crafting an American whiteness through identity separation, and in turn subjugation of non- white races.[5] Interestingly, however, she fails to examine how Native identity is not only being separated from the modern world, but how the culture has no place in it. Native Americans, especially Native female characters, are shown as either preventing America’s transition into the modern world, a white world, or they are shown to assimilate into white culture, parting with their Native heritage. Unlike the white relationship with the African American character, the Native American must either reject their culture or be destroyed by the modern world. Broken Arrow’s (famously known as the first big film that sympathetically portrayed the Native Americans), Sonseeharay and her relationship with the white hero, Jeffords, was judiciously crafted to appease the conservative audiences of fifties America. Because of Sonseeharay’s “innate whiteness” and desire for assimilation into white society,[6] it was accepted that she was a ‘good’ Indian, and therefore worthy of Jefford’s affection and acceptance into white culture. Furthermore, her gentle and conservative persona, and fairly light skin, made it easier for her transition. Sonseeharay is an easy pill to swallow for white audiences because of her apparent whiteness and social status. Pocahontas is unequivocally the most famous Native American in the world. Today her name is known throughout Europe, thanks to the eponymous Disney movie, and she is most associated with Native American culture. She is the epitome of the Hollywood Indian - a Native American image constructed through the eyes of white, Eurocentric Christians. Although she is depicted as a noble princess, “according to legend, she had selflessly thrown herself across Captain Smith’s body [a white settler], saving his life while defying her father and forsaking her own people. She had converted to Christianity, married John Rolfe [another white settler], and taken a Christian name, Rebecca, a woman who, in Genesis, ‘was the literal mother of two nations…’”[7] she was the mediator between the two conflicting cultures and also the “…idealized woman as the essential link to Virginia’s [and by extend America’s] aboriginal-and mythical-past.”[7] The “essential link” the Native woman has, further illustrates the view of Indigenous women, as the cementing factor for the white man, to truly have a connection with the new land. In this sense, settlers indoctrinated themselves into thinking that although they were conquerors of the land, they could not truly be bound to it unless they united with Mother Nature: in this case Mother Nature is the Native American woman. So, have depictions of Native American people improved in recent years? Films of the nineties sought to set the record straight, and show “realistic” images of the Native American. However, in Elise Marubbio’s words, it illustrated instead “revisionist disillusion”, resulting in “the social ruptures of an era when the past national mythic identities and the ideologies of the western became antithetical to the nation’s racial and cultural diversity.”[6] However in recent years Native American characters in films are a rare sight, perhaps it is because Hollywood is now under scrutiny from the Internet and social media. These platforms scrutinise racist and unauthentic portrayals of minority races and cultures, since society has developed to become more aware of cultural appropriation and sexism. Feasibly, Hollywood is therefore afraid of offending, and in turn loosing, its appeal and value. Nonetheless, rather than deciding to remove Native American people from film altogether, would it not be more ethical to allow for Indigenous voices to be heard in Hollywood? Instead of non-Native filmmakers claiming to portray “realistic” images of the Native American people, give the people their own power to tell their own stories; authentic and true. Thanks for reading! Tulsi Behl Fabulous Tudor towns, beautiful gowns and bejeweled, elaborate crowns are just some of the things I adore about British period dramas. There’s just something so magical about the past- perhaps because I am dying to dress in an outrageously lavish Georgian dress, or I want Mr. Darcy or King Arthur to whisk me away on his valiant steed. And I’m not the only one, the majority of British audiences love watching them too, churning out brilliant films like A Dangerous Method and The Imitation Game. However I have begun to notice, most probably because I am now a lot older than I was when I watched the majority of these period dramas, is that there is a huge lack of BAME (Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic) characters in them. Now I know what you may be thinking- “Everyone was white in the old days”, and though in Britain there was a far less multi-cultural community there were still a heck of a lot of “non-white” people living in Britain. And this has been going on for some time- thousands of years in fact. There is a lot of space to write in BAME characters and still be “historically accurate”.
Naturally, BAME actors are seeking work elsewhere, to the detriment of British film, and so, much like the Brain Drain of the Cold War, our talent is leaving in search of something better. The world is changing, globalization and the Internet means that not only are we far more accepting of each others cultures and races, but multiculturalism is a part of our lives, and shouldn’t film be reflecting the world we currently live in? However, in recent years there have been a few more period dramas involving BAME characters, my favorite being Belle. And Victoria & Abdul does follow the relationship of Queen Victoria with an Indian servant- so hey there are non- Caucasians in period dramas, though I think it would be for the best if it’s at all possible for filmmakers to not look on colonization as a beloved memory. BAME people had roles other than servants, as pointed out in Gretchen Gerzina’s classic book Black London, and if you still remain desperate to include colonization in your film, romanticizing it is probably not the smartest move considering the calls from Elizabeth I to remove black people from England and the kidnapping of black people to send them to the West Indies. Now I’m not saying we should create BAME characters just for the sake of ticking the ‘token’ box, there are stories that don’t have BAME characters, however if we could invest more of our time in stories being told from people with different life experiences, then that would not only make for an evenhanded storytelling domain, but it would bring period dramas into the beautifully multi- ethnic world we live in today. Thanks for reading! Tulsi Behl Awards season is coming to a close, with its biggest event happening tomorrow night. The Oscars comes after the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs and lesser known award shows including the American Society of Cinematographers Awards and the Independent Spirit Awards. Whilst there is a lot of hype around these, perhaps more in their specific filmmaking communities, they function largely as a predictor for the Oscars.
The Hollywood Reporter recently released an article unleashing Oscar voting secrets, with some voters saying they would not vote for Get Out because it ‘played the race card’ or films like Darkest Hour because, despite personally liking the film, it doesn’t stand a great chance of winning. It’s general knowledge that a small, elite circle of filmmakers votes on the Oscars, and in recent years they winners have become somewhat predictable. With box office data easily accessed online, constant streams of articles on films and controversies flooding Twitter, we know who the frontrunners are already. Last year’s Best Picture mishap was a welcome, but somewhat disastrous, surprise. Yes, La La Land had its merits, but for me had nothing on Moonlight. It felt somewhat flat (though I do listen to a few of the songs fairly often), and in comparison, Moonlight was an incredibly nuanced and emotional look at a relatively untouched topic. The raucous applause from the audience demonstrated that the attendees got what they wanted, and Moonlight certainly deserved the win. But does this mean that people outside the filmmaking community care, or that filmmakers themselves should aspire to an Oscar win? Awards shows, like anything else, have their devoted fans, but a quick google reveals that there are some very opinionated Oscar haters out there. And they have a point. For those of us in the UK, the Oscars won’t air until about 1AM, and it’s just quicker to google the winners the next morning, maybe have a look at a few speeches. Personally, I enjoy predicting winners and discussing why some films will or won’t win, regardless of whether I think it’s deserved or not, and I especially love discussing why I think the voting process needs a complete overhaul (hint: old white guys still run the show), but after the wins are announced, I’ll forget about it until the next award season. The Oscars still has its importance in the filmmaking world, otherwise it would have fallen out of fashion long ago. Perhaps it’s the glamour of it all, the emotional speeches and watching background reactions that pulls in a wider audience. It is still an extremely high honour to have won an Oscar, especially if that Oscar is Best Actor/Actress or Best Picture. Following the Oscars, Variety will have an interview with the winner of Best Picture, the Guardian will be flooded with strong opinion columns on who should have won and the Daily Mail will slam women for daring to have breasts. But after the high fades, do we really remember the Oscars? Do we immediately go out to buy the winning film, or are the events put to rest in the recesses of our minds, only to be awakened on a pub trivia night? What we do remember is how the film made us feel. I wanted so desperately for Moonlight to win Best Picture because of how it made me feel, and the impact it would have on black and gay filmmakers in the years to come. The Oscars should seek to inspire and learn to take risks with its nomination choices. Yes, we’re seeing more female led and directed films being nominated, but this doesn’t mean anything until we give the underrepresented more voting power and credit, until more funds are allocated to poorer schools to give young creatives a chance. The Academy needs to look outside of its elite circle and consider the impact it can have on the next generation of filmmakers. It needs to acknowledge that it is time to move forward, and what better time than now? Let me know your Oscar predictions, why you’ll be watching it, why you won’t be or why you absolutely despise awards season in general. Thanks for reading! Ayeshah Lalloo |
written by society membersA place for society members to discuss debates going on in Hollywood, their personal favourites, and anything else related to all things film! Archives
February 2019
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