In Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, the banks have taken over
Gekko’s job. I was shocked when I went back to this in 2010. In
Wall Street, Gekko had been the outsider, the inside trader guy,
the thief, the blackmailer –and that’s what the banks do now. In
the old days the banks would never have done that, it was considered immoral, but by 2010 the whole thing had shifted because of
By the time Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps hit cinemas in
September 2010, banking, the financial markets and capitalism in
general had all
picture called A Date with a Dream (1948). That
was our first break, as it were, into the movie business. We
were pretty green at that time, so we used our own money, which
we probably would have been forced to do, because, coming out of
the army, we had no reputation to fall back on. So we financed
it ourselves; I think the film cost about just under
Money, Commerce, Language, and the Horror of Modernity in ‘The Isle of Voices’
Money, not merely as subject in literature but also in its very form and function, exhibits qualities of spectral evanescence, fetishised power over the imagination, and the uncontrollable transgression of boundaries and limits, which closely parallel the concerns and anxieties of Gothic literature. Yet it is in the writings of economic theorists and commentators on market society like Adam Smith and Karl Marx that these Gothic anxieties about money are most clearly articulated. Stevensons short story ‘The Isle of Voices’, read in the context of his comments on money in his other writings, is one of the few fictional texts which uses these properties of money to create what might be called a ‘financial Gothic’ narrative, which nevertheless has insights and implications for the narratives of capitalist modernity in general.
Throughout the nineteenth century, the term ‘uncomfortable houses’ was used to describe properties where restless spirits made life unpleasant for any living persons who tried to claim these supernatural residences as their own. This article uses the idea of ‘uncomfortable houses’ to examine how this ghostly discomfort related to larger cultural issues of economics and class in Victorian Britain. Authors such as Charlotte Riddell and Margaret Oliphant used the haunted house story as a means of social critique which commented on the financial problems facing many lower- and middle-class Victorians. Their stories focus on the moral development of the protagonists and reconciliation through the figure of the ghost, ultimately giving readers the happy endings that many male-authored ghost stories lack. Riddell‘s ‘The Old House in Vauxhall Walk’ and ‘Walnut-Tree House’ and Oliphant‘s ‘The Open Door’ serve as important examples of this ‘suburban Gothic’ literature.
Towards a Theory for African Cinema is an English translation of a talk given in
French by the Tunisian filmmaker and critic Férid Boughedir (1944–) at a conference
on international cinema, which took place in Montreal in 1974. In his presentation
Boughedir discusses the vocation of the African filmmaker, who must avoid succumbing
to the escapism and entertainment values of Western cinema and instead strive to
reflect the contradictions and tensions of the colonised African identity, while
promoting a revitalisation of African culture. Drawing on the example of the 1968
film Mandabi (The Money Order) by the Senegalese director Sembène Ousmane, Boughedir
conceptualises a form of cinema which resists the influences of both Hollywood and
auteur film and awakens viewers, instead of putting them to sleep. Boughedir‘s source
text is preceded by a translator‘s introduction, which situates his talk within
contemporary film studies.
Gender, Money and Property in the Ghost Stories of Charlotte Riddell
This article explores Riddells representational strategies around gender: in particular her male narrators and her female characters made monstrous by money. It argues that Riddell, conscious of social prohibitions on financial knowledge in women, employs male protagonists to subversive effect, installing in her stories a feminine wisdom about the judicious use of wealth. Her narratives identify the Gothic potential of money to dehumanise, foregrounding the culpability of economic arrangements in many of the horrors of her society. While they contain pronounced elements of social critique, they ultimately however defend late-Victorian capitalism by proff ering exemplars of the ethical financial practice by which moneys action is to be kept benign.
This book charts and analyses the work of Oliver Stone – arguably one of the foremost political filmmakers in Hollywood during the last thirty years. Drawing on previously unseen production files from Oliver Stone’s personal archives and hours of interviews both with Stone and a range of present and former associates within the industry, the book employs a thematic structure to explore Stone’s life and work in terms of war, politics, money, love and corporations. This allows the authors both to provide a synthesis of earlier and later film work as well as locate that work within Stone’s developing critique of government. The book explores the development of aesthetic changes in Stone’s filmmaking and locates those changes within ongoing academic debates about the relationship between film and history as well as wider debates about Hollywood and the film industry. All of this is explored with detailed reference to the films themselves and related to a set of wider concerns that Stone has sought to grapple with -the American Century, exceptionalism and the American Dream, global empire, government surveillance and corporate accountability. The book concludes with a perspective on Stone’s ‘brand’ as not just an auteur and commercially viable independent filmmaker but as an activist arguing for a very distinct kind of American exceptionalism that seeks a positive role for the US globally whilst eschewing military adventurism.
Film noir derives essentially from popular noir literature: the writings
of Raymond Chandler, James M. Cain, Dashiell Hammett and others.
It is the reverse of the American dream whose promises of happiness,
prosperity and security are confronted by a sordid reality conditioned by
money and the amorality of it, weighed down at every level by cynicism,
despair, violence, murder and hopelessness.
Film noir is essentially a style, a night-time film where shadows and
murky greys predominate. Dim reflections and shimmering electric
lights create an unstable
symbol to those who might see their way to
making big money out of the long history of privation and poverty of
so many working people. He is also a reminder that many
working-class pleasures have been illicit, and that the majority of
working-class people have proved much more adept at learning to play
the system rather than to transform it. 3
polemical cinematic angst in
Hollywood. Stone followed World Trade Center with his third presidential biopic, W. about George W. Bush in 2008, followed by a
reprise of Gordon Gekko in Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010),
and a tour around the perils of drug dealing in Savages (2012). All
three films had things to say about their subject matter, but all did
so with noticeably more muted polemics than supporters and critics alike had expected.
Indeed, Stone’s career since the turn of the millennium suggests
a director less easily defined than his convenient monikers