#i need all of you to watch the 1998 film small soldiers and then listen to the 2016-2019 podcast archive 81

[wizardlyghost]

hey look! it's dan archive81 from the podcast archive 81!

[sundaynightbombers-blog]

TONIGHT WE DINE IN THE BASEMENT; OR, IF A CGI WOLF IS KILLED WITH A REAL SPEAR, IS IT MURDER?

            Have you ever watched/read/listened to something you knew was bad, but did so purely because of how popular it is or was at some point? Ever gone on a disco bender to try and travel back to the seventies, mostly because you can afford only used records and not cocaine? Hosted a French new wave marathon because you keep hearing how wonderful Jean-Luc Godard is, despite him only having maybe three good movies? Gone to one of those hip small art galleries to see what’s new in modern art, except you don’t why that woman is birthing raw eggs?

            In this article, I’d like to detail my findings from a recent excursion into a cultural phenomenon years after the fact: I watched Zack Snyder’s 300.

            Background: 300 is based on a 1998 graphic novel by controversial-and-not-in-a-fun-way cartoonist Frank Miller (see Sin City and The Dark Knight Returns). The film, released in 2006, directed by Snyder, and starring Gerard Butler (who is not a terrible actor, let’s be real here), was in fact stupidly successful at the box office with an international gross of $456 million against its $60 million budget. However, critics were completely divided, and this days the film is considered not very good.

            Total disclosure, it is a bloated, tan-coloured, man sweat-flavoured lemon of a movie.

            But why was it such a big deal? Well, I think we can blame the 80s. Specifically, 1982’s Conan the Barbarian. See, Conan was also a massive success upon release, especially among young adult males, similar to 300. Both films were adaptations of successful works within geek culture at their respective times, both made by well-regarded creators, and the fan hype machine obviously had a role in both films being hits. But I think there might be something else, something more… sociological, going on.

            Consider: Both films feature a main character who embodies absolute masculinity. They both contain things like honour and respect, all amongst manly men, as emotional cores for the audience. These are films that explicitly tell male-orientated stories, something I’d argue rarely happens. A lot of films that’re made for male audiences are less blatant about it; there’ll sometimes be female love interests, themes and ideas that aren’t absolute in how they addressed from a men’s perspective, and are typically trying to appeal to wider audiences (usually). Movies are about making money at the end of the day, so they need to throw a wide net. These movies? Their net is shaped like a scrotum and carries enough testosterone to power a brigade of Interceptors down a highway.

            Now, it’s extremely easy to say that most films cater to male audiences, and I will not deny that. There is truth to it, but in the case of Conan the Barbarian and 300, these films are so grossly direct in who they’re trying to get to see them, it’s kind of amazing. Neither film came out at a time when their genre- swords and sandals- was popular, they were not Oscar bait or major blockbusters, and frankly should’ve seen minor success, let alone become flops. But no, these films soldiered on (literally) and ended up being cultural touchstones for their respective generations of men. They presented male-oriented stories in a way that appealed directly to them. They gave them characters that personified a sense of masculinity that, I would argue, young males secretly desired. They wanted father figures that, in their mind, could treat them like a real man treats his son. It gave them something they didn’t get.

            But is any of this a good thing? I dunno. I know some will say it isn’t, some will say (not quite as loudly) that it does, but frankly, I don’t think it really matters. Check it, Conan is now a mere cult film that only appeals to fans of Robert E. Howard or Arnold Schwarzenegger. 300 is basically a joke these days. A too-little-too-late sequel in 2014 confirmed that it had absolutely no staying power, Snyder’s career has gone on to achieve rather abysmal depths (side note: I feel Justice League is somewhat forgivable; he understandably and rightfully left due to a personal tragedy, and I think the film was doomed regardless of his involvement or not), and Frank Miller is seen as a senile old man who had a pretty racist/batshit-insane phase in the 2000s that completely ruined his winning streak. Hell, the graphic novel 300 has become his last masterwork. All that is left in the film’s wake are countless hours of ‘this is Sparta’ memes buried deep in the recesses of the internet, as well as a mediocre and forgotten PlayStation Portable beat-em-up.

            I want to end on a few small notes. Firstly, as much as I disliked 300 (no, really, it’s pretty godawful), I did get sucked into it at the end. When the 300 Spartans are dying on the battlefield, and Michael Fassbender grabs Gerard Butler’s hand, and they have an exchange expressing their mutual respect for each other, it kinda got me. The climax is effective, not gonna lie. Also, the blue screen work is sooooo fucking bad, it’s actually distracting.

            Finally, what about the book 300? Well, it’s not bad. I kinda dig it. The real kicker is that, Snyder recreated the graphic novel shot-for-shot, and in the process diminished the effectiveness of those scenes. You also see Frank Miller do what he does best one last time, which is made more sad as it makes you remember why Miller was so highly-regarded as an artist; 300 came right before the abysmal The Dark Knight Strikes Back, but it wouldn’t be until the immensely offensive Holy Terror that his reign would ultimately end. Basically, everything after this has never reached those heights in the 80s and 90s. This is his last masterwork, and it’s kind of a fitting one to end on. Didn’t give me much insight, but as a fan of comics it was not without merit.

            Too bad we got a shit movie out of it.

 ~M.C.

[belleforeman-blog]

Truth and objectivity in animated documentary

John Grierson described documentary as “the creative treatment of actuality” (Dirk Eitzen p82, 1995). Although this is a widely accepted definition, it is difficult to establish what constitutes “actuality”. As all representations of reality are reflections of a personal viewpoint or belief, and documentaries are often designed to portray a specific message, it could be argued that these depictions are in part fictional. To me, what constitutes a documentary is a representation of real events, people and locations, which tells the story of what actually happens, or has happened in reality. It is valid for a documentary to offer a perspective, interpretation or an argument of it’s subject, as this is a natural consequence of the nature of documentary. However, it is important that the filmmaker represents reality and does not reinterpret it. In this essay, I will explore whether animation follows or defies the fundamental values of truth and objectivity in documentary.

Paul Wells underlines the key issue of animated documentary, which is that the very nature of animation cannot be objective. ‘The very subjectivity involved in producing animation, [...] means that any aspiration towards suggesting reality in animation becomes difficult to execute. For example, the intention to create a ‘documentary’ in animation is inhibited by the fact that the medium cannot be objective’ (Paul Wells p27, 1998). He goes on to say that ‘the medium does enable the film-maker to more persuasively show subjective reality.’ This is a fundamental point. Indeed, suggesting reality through animation may be difficult, but it can be hugely beneficial when used to portray subjective matters. 

Animated documentaries consist of drawing and imagery that a camera literally cannot make, but this does not necessarily render them untruthful. Their content can still be about real people, real locations and real events. Slaves is an animated documentary about two Sudanese children, Abouk aged nine, and Machiek aged fifteen, who were kidnapped and enslaved by government backed militia in southern Sudan. David Aronowitsch and Hanna Heilborn made sensitive visuals that allow the children’s voices to be heard. The film begins with the interview set up, and as the interview progresses, the animation moves out of the room and the children’s terrible experiences are visualised. By establishing the film in the reality of the interview, the experiences of the children are more afflictive. This is highlighted when Abouk and Machiek talk about the abuses they witnessed, for example, of other children being ‘torn apart’ and thrown down a well. The sound recording is accurate and unedited. The typical background noises associated with an interview setup, such as the little sneezes, gives the audience a strong sense of how traumatic and true their experiences are. As a viewer, what you see is a subjective representation, but what you hear is a real child recounting a real experience. Rozenkrantz maintains that the inclusion of the actual recorded voice is critical to guarantee an animated documentary’s success. The success of Slaves is due to this, as it enables the viewer to trust the interviewee’s story. Rozenkrantz also claims that hearing the actual voice of the individual who the memories belong to, fills the gaps and provides credibility (Jonathon Rozenkrantz, 2011). In Slaves, the majority of the interview concerns the children’s memories of their past, of which no footage exists. The animation bridges the gap between the voices of the children and their memories, creating a deeper connection and understanding. Slaves is an exceptional piece of animation which highlights what animation can achieve in the field of nonfiction documentary.

Animation also enables consideration and control over movement. Animators can selectively exclude or add information. They can control the length of time the observer views information and the way it unfolds. Sometimes less is more, as a viewer will gain more from a documentary that is easy to digest and understand. This applies to Slaves, as when the children start to speak of their experiences, we are taken out of the room and into another landscape, where the scenes are not crowed or busy, allowing the children’s stories to come through clearly and making a bigger impact. Although this is not necessarily the case in Slaves, condensing information can result in the filmmaker’s truth being imposed onto the audience, as they may make the decision to leave out something significant which subtlety changes the story. The animators of Slaves have produced a slight shake of the frames, which mimics a camera wobble. This is a small touch, but it undoubtedly adds to the sense of reality. It could be argued that the content of solely voice-recorded interviews are more truthful than that of video-recorded interviews, as film crews and camera equipment can be intimidating to interviewees, who might not feel comfortable to speak openly of their experiences.

Animation can act as a substitute to live-action documentary. Substituting what cannot be captured through film. ‘Animated documentaries offer us an enhanced perspective on reality by presenting to us the world in a breadth and depth that live action alone cannot’ (Jeffrey Skoller, 2011). It can be a very effective tool when depicting the unseen, making the invisible visible. Examples of the unseen are subjective, internal psychological states, or the visualisation of events where no footage or only partial footage exists, such as memories, as demonstrated by Slaves. Although it may be easy to identify ways in which animation can be beneficial to documentary making, it can be challenging to bring this back in relation to truth. All documentaries are constructions, and the viewer discovers the ‘truth’ in a film through the director’s assembly of cinematic choices – choices that inevitably represent the filmmaker’s version of the truth (Peter Biesterfeld, 2016). Indeed, it might be helpful for an audience to see visuals of a subject, but this could potentially detract from the original message, as rather than the audience experiencing the ‘truth’, they are instead viewing the director or creator’s understanding or interpretation of the truth. Arguably, this question can be applied to live-action documentary. As Wolf Koenig stated, “every cut is a lie. Those two shots were never next to each other in time that way. But you're telling a lie in order to tell the truth” (Peter Biesterfeld, 2016). It could be said the animated documentaries are more ‘truthful’ than live-footage documentaries, as they are true to the editing process. No one thinks they are real. Whereas in live-action documentaries, particularly during scenes where the past has been reenacted, people may consider the documentary as untrustworthy. Animation however, asks us to see it for what it is, ‘a construct or representation,’ by introducing a certain transparency and self-consciousness to the mix’ (Beige Adams, 2009).

One of the main strengths of animation is its power to engage the audience. Often, an abstract representation of information is more appealing than a literal one. American filmmaker, Richard Robbins, believes real footage ‘impinges your ability to listen to the story’ (Beige Adams, 2009). As a society, we tend to disengage when presented with genuine footage of pain, suffering and violence.

‘Animation has emerged as an important practice in recent documentary, particularly those that examine life in wartime’ (Tess Takahashi, 2011). Waltz with Bashir is an animated documentary about the Lebanon war and dealing with trauma. The use of animation creates space from the photographic imagery that is necessary in order to observe and take in the information. For topics like trauma, animation seems suitable, as ‘the unconscious must become manifest. The invisible must become visible’ (Carlo Avventi, 2018). The filmmaker, Ari Folman’s experience shapes Waltz with Bashir. It is his attempt to make sense of his time as an Israeli soldier in the Lebanon war in 1982. It is centred around a series of conversations between Folman and other Israeli soldiers, who were in Lebanon on the night that three thousand Palestinian refugees were massacred by Christian militia. Twenty years on, after an old friend tells Folman of a recurring nightmare relating to the war, Folman realises that he has no recollection of his experiences during the war. Ari Folman had previously worked on more conventional, live-action documentaries, but for Waltz with Bashir, animation seemed fitting due to the nature of the content. Folman himself said, ‘with animation you can do anything’ (Carlo Avventi, 2008). The film weaves in and out of dreams, hallucinations and memories, of both his own and other veterans, and it makes it possible to visualise these subjective, internal thoughts. As each man tells his story to Folman, we are taken out of the setting of the conversation and into a frightening, dark landscape. ‘The freedom afforded by animation [..] allows Mr. Folman to blend grimly literal images with surreal flights of fantasy, humour and horror’ (A. O. Scott, 2008).

As in Slaves, the interpretation of the Lebanon war through animation was not a wholly aesthetic decision, ‘with its artificiality, the animation offers the necessary distance to be able to approach the images of such an event’ (Carlo Avventi, 2018). When a subject is too horrific, many people find it too hard to watch live-action, or choose not to watch it as a way of self-protection. Animation can be a useful tool to draw people in without being too gruesome. However, to gain a true understanding of a subject, it may be that the absolute reality needs to be seen. Animation could potentially act as a blanket. Viewers may use its clear subjectivity as a comfort that what they are seeing didn’t really happen. This psychological block is challenging to break. Maybe the most ‘truthful’ documentary is one that uses both animation and live-footage; for animation to slowly introduce an idea to the audience, without being too graphic, then to consolidate its reality, by showing real photographic images or footage. The subject’s reality is then inescapable. This way, the filmmaker is able to show their truth without causing viewers to disengage for reasons of self-protection. This is what Ali Folman did in his animated documentary, Waltz with Bashir. Just before the film finishes, the animation stops, and we are faced with horrifying footage of raw grief and real dead bodies. This indicates ‘just how far Mr. Folman is prepared to go, not in the service of shock for its own sake, but rather in his pursuit of clarity and truth’ (A. O. Scott, 2008). It is also his ‘way of acknowledging that imagination has its limits, and that even the most ambitious and serious work of art will come up short against the brutal facts of life’ (A. O. Scott, 2008). As the audience, when confronted with these graphic images, it is the stark contrast between this and the animation that allows the reality and pain to really hit hard. The live-action footage is the most distinguishable difference between Waltz with Bashir and Slaves and is certainly effective, but it does not necessarily make Waltz with Bashir more truthful. The unedited voice recording of the children’s stories in Slaves serves as a powerful truth.

All documentaries set out to teach us something about the world, and animation can take this further by pushing the boundaries of how and what we learn. There are many things in our world that simply cannot be observed literally. Animation can compensate for the restrictions of live-action. Slaves and Waltz with Bashir both demonstrate the benefits of using animation in documentary making. ‘It is clear that animation is not just a technique or technology, but a necessary mode of representation’ (Jeffrey Skoller, 2011). Indeed, the medium itself is not objective, but it’s ability to bring subjective meaning to life is formidable. In my opinion, if the content is based on real events, real people and real locations, animated documentaries do adhere to the conventional values of truth in reportage, and in some cases, animation can convey information with more success, particularly when describing subjective states. I believe there is just as much discourse with animated documentaries as live-action documentaries when questioning their ‘truth’. Though both are valid, animation is undoubtedly more truthful, as it is transparent to the way it is made, allowing the audience to be more thoughtful and creating a space to make their own judgment.

[yourclassygal]

Prince Philip Gaffs 

‘I declare this thing open, whatever it is.’ During a visit to Canada in 1969.

‘It looks like a tart’s bedroom,’ — on seeing plans for the Duke and Duchess of York’s house at Sunninghill Park in 1988.

To a driving instructor in Scotland, during a 1995 walkabout: ‘How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to get them through the test?’

Pointing at an old-fashioned fusebox in a factory near Edinburgh in 1999: ‘It looks as if it was put in by an Indian.’

In Kenya, in 1984, after accepting a small gift from a local woman: ‘You are a woman, aren’t you?’

In Australia, in 1992, when asked to stroke a Koala bear: ‘Oh no, I might catch some ghastly disease.’

‘You can’t have been here that long, you haven’t got a pot belly’ — to a Briton in Budapest, Hungary, in 1993.

‘Aren’t most of you descended from pirates?’ — to a resident of the Cayman Islands in 1994.

At a tree-planting ceremony in Hyde Park in 2011, the Queen met 16-year-old Army cadet Stephen Menary, who lost an arm and most of his sight in an IRA bomb attack. When the Queen asked him how much he could see, Philip interjected: ‘Not a lot, judging by the tie he’s wearing.’

‘You managed not to get eaten, then?’ — to a student who had been trekking in Papua New Guinea in 1998.

‘I wish he’d turn the microphone off’ — muttered at the Royal Variety Performance as he watched Sir Elton John perform, 2001.

‘You look like a suicide bomber,’ to a young female officer wearing a bullet-proof vest on Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, in 2002.

To young designer Stephen Judge in July 2009: ‘Well, you didn’t design your beard too well, did you?’

Addressing multi-ethnic Britain’s Got Talent winners Diversity, who are from London, in 2009: ‘Are you all one family?’

‘Children go to school because their parents don’t want them in the house’ — prompting giggles from Malala Yousafzai, who survived an assassination attempt by the Taliban after campaigning for the right of girls to go to school without fear — October 2013.

To the Queen at her coronation: ‘Where did you get that hat?’

On Princess Anne: ‘If it doesn’t fart or eat hay, she’s not interested.’

To disabled comedian Adam Hills, who has a prosthetic foot, in 2009: ‘You could smuggle a bottle of gin out of the country in that.’

He told Paraguay’s dictator General Alfredo Stroessner: ‘It’s a pleasure to be in a country that isn’t ruled by its people.’

Speaking to singer Tom Jones after the 1969 Royal Variety Performance: ‘What do you gargle with, pebbles?’

In 2010 he asked disabled mobility scooter rider David Miller, 60: ‘How many people have you knocked over this morning on that thing?’

After being told Madonna was singing the Die Another Day theme at the film’s world premiere at the Albert Hall in 2002 he asked her: ‘Are we going to need ear plugs?’

In Ghana in 1999 he asked an MP: ‘How many members of Parliament do you have?’ When told 200, he replied: ‘That’s about the right number. We have 650 and most of them are a complete bloody waste of time.’

Overheard in 2005 at Bristol University’s engineering facility, which had been closed so that he could officially open it: ‘It doesn’t look like much work goes on at this university.’

As he and the Queen walked down the aisle through a fog of holy smoke in a birthday service in a high church in 2004, he asked: ‘Is this a celebration or a cremation?’

After a meal of venison at Magdalen College, Oxford, in 2008, Philip spotted a herd of deer in the grounds and asked the bursar: ‘How many of those buggers did you have to shoot for lunch then?’

Then, on being told the supply had come from Kent he quipped: ‘Well, don’t tell Charles because he likes everyone to buy local!’

In 2008, to a soldier whose head had been injured by shrapnel from an explosive device packed with ball-bearings: ‘Does your head rattle?’

In 1955, when asked what he felt about his life: ‘I’d much rather have stayed in the Navy frankly.’

At a reception to honour Australians, Philip met the husband of Gill Hicks, who lost her legs in the July 2005 London bombings. ‘You’re not Australian!’ said Philip.

‘No, actually I’m not important, I’m just here because of my wife,’ he said. ‘Tell me about it!’ said the Prince.

On a 1961 visit to Sheffield’s Hallam University, he was shown a plastic dummy which talked, used in medical training. The dummy lay in bed saying: ‘I don’t feel well.’ Philip replied: ‘Frankly you don’t look well!’

To Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins in 2007: ‘How are your vocal cords?’ Miss Jenkins: ‘Fine thank you.' Philip replied: ‘No boils or warts on them yet?’

During the same walkabout in Kent in 2012 where he joked about being arrested for unzipping a woman’s dress, he spotted 90-year-old Barbara Dubery sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in a foil blanket to fend off the cold . . . and asked: ‘Are they going to put you in the oven next?’

At a Buckingham Palace dinner in 2011 Philip listened to tenor Russell Watson’s stirring rendition of Jerusalem.

As it ended he said: ‘Why do you need a bloody microphone? They could have heard you in outer space.’ He then turned to the singer’s partner Louise Harris and added: ‘You must go deaf listening to him all the time.’

During a 1991 visit to Swansea he met four local belly dancers and told them: ‘I thought Eastern women just sat around smoking pipes and eating sweets all day.’

On a visit to Hull in 2009 he met victims of bad floods, many of whom had lost their homes. Bidding farewell to council leader Carl Minns, he said: ‘Keep your head above water!’

At a G20 summit, the Queen asked of Italian leader Silvio Berlusconi: ‘Why does he talk so loudly?’ Philip replied: ‘He is Italian, my dear, how else would he sell his ice creams?’

‘Are you responsible for making people overweight in Crawley?’ — to the manager of a cake shop on a 2006 visit to the town.

At a 2008 Buckingham Palace reception he was introduced to Oscar-winning actress Cate Blanchett. Thinking she was a film technician he asked: ‘Do you know how to fix my broken DVD player? There’s a cord sticking out of the back and I don’t know where it goes.’

During a 2009 Buckingham Palace reception for British Indians, Philip glanced at business chief Atul Patel’s name badge — and remarked: ‘There’s a lot of your family in tonight!’

On a state visit to Britain in 2015, President Xi Jinping of China was shown some Chinese treasures from the Royal Collection. Philip told him: ‘You can’t claim any of them back — we check your luggage before you go!’

For a 2016 programme about the 60th anniversary of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award scheme, presenter Phillip Schofield performed a wing walk.

‘Why are you doing that?’ asked Philip. ‘Does someone not like you? Open your mouth up there and you’ll blow up like a balloon.’

He later introduced Schofield to a parachutist saying, ‘Meet a fellow idiot.’

At a Buckingham Palace reception to thank those involved in the Diamond Jubilee celebrations in 2012, Prince Philip met Conservative Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt.

‘Who are you?’ he asked. Hunt explained he was Health Secretary but that he’d been Culture Secretary during the Jubilee and Olympics. ‘Well they do move you people on a lot,’ said Philip, walking off.

In 2006 an official at a Canadian airport asked the Duke: ‘What was your flight like, Your Royal Highness?’ Philip: ‘Have you ever flown in a plane?’ Official: ‘Oh yes, Sir, many times.’ Philip: ‘Well, it was just like that.’

On a visit to open the headquarters of GB Airways at Gatwick Airport in 2000, Philip chatted to pilots and cabin crew and told them: ‘When you think of all the publicity about planes being dangerous to fly in, I wonder, why aren’t all of you dead?’

In 2009, a young man told him he’d worked with the Samaritans. He replied: ‘You didn’t try to commit suicide did you?’

As he sat with the Queen at the Royal Variety Show in 2014, watching a male stripper scene from The Full Monty, Philip told their biographer Gyles Brandreth: ‘Don’t worry, she’s been to Papua New Guinea and seen it all before!’

On a visit to the GCHQ building in Cheltenham in 2004, Labour MP Chris Mullin asked Philip about the modern design, saying: ‘Would Charles approve?’ ‘Charles who?’ replied the Duke.

His most infamous gaffe came in 1986 when he told a British student in China: ‘If you stay here much longer you’ll be slitty-eyed.’

In 2005, a female reporter asked him: ‘I wondered if you might like to talk to me?’ He replied: ‘You can carry on wondering.’

After meeting Gogglebox regulars Sandra Martin and Sandy Channer in 2016: ‘Well, I won’t be watching you, that’s for sure!’

In 2006, to comedian David Walliams after he swam the English Channel for Sport Relief: ‘Is this the nut who swam the channel?’ Turning to Walliams’s mother, he added: ‘Any more nuts in your family?’

AS the Queen opened a dental hospital in 2015 in Birmingham, Philip asked the crowd: ‘Are you all here to get your teeth done? We don’t want to jump the queue.’

At a 2014 reception for a disability charity, Philip saw ex-rugby player Alastair Hignell in a high-tech wheelchair that could be raised or lowered as required. He said: ‘That must be good for cocktail parties.’

He then told BBC disability correspondent Nikki Fox — who was in a normal mobility scooter: ‘You should get yourself one!’

Extracted from Prince Philip: Wise Words And Golden Gaffes by Phil Dampier and Ashley Roberts, published by Barzipan Publishing