This book explores representations of queer migrant Muslims in international
literature and film from the 1980s to the present. It brings together a variety
of contemporary writers and filmmakers of Muslim heritage engaged in vindicating
same-sex desire from several Western locations. The book approaches queer
Muslims as figures forced to negotiate their identities according to the
expectations of the West and of their migrant Muslim communities. It coins the
concept of queer micropolitical disorientation via the work of Gilles Deleuze
and Félix Guattari, Sara Ahmed and Gayatri Gopinath. The author argues that
depictions of queer Muslims in the West disorganise the social categories that
make up contemporary Western societies. The study covers three main themes:
queer desire across racial and national borders; Islamic femininities and
masculinities; and the queer Muslim self in time and place. These thematic
clusters examine the nuances of artistic depictions of queer Muslims’ mundane
challenges to Western Islamophobia and Islamicate heteronormativity. Written in
a scholarly but accessible style, this is a timely contribution to the
controversial topic of Islam and homosexuality, forging understanding about the
dissident position of Muslims who contravene heteronormative values and their
equivocal political position in the West.
Claire Denis' first film, Chocolat, was a deceptively gentle family
chronicle set in colonial Africa. She focuses on ordinary people, men and women,
black and white, homosexuals and heterosexuals, whom displacement and difference
have set apart, relegated to the outskirts of society and to the margins of
representation. In her films, the perception of the Other is always complex and
ambiguous. This book outlines the multi-faceted, poetic vision of the
contemporary world that emerges through Denis' filmmaking to date and to
bring to light its main thematic, temporal, spatial and stylistic implications.
The analysis presented focuses on her fictional feature films, which form the
main body of her work and have generally become easily accessible in video or
DVD format. In her first feature, Chocolat, the director's early
experiences made her sensitive to oppression and misappropriation, exile and
racism, alienation and transgression. Location and space emphasise a sense of
displacement and function as metaphors for the process of potential exclusion of
the individual (body) from society. But the metaphor also evokes an inner sense
of exile and longing, a feeling of foreignness that is played out at the level
of the individual and of the individual's body through relations of desire,
fear and rejection. Denis' work stands apart from a tradition of screenplay
and dialogue-based cinema that defines much of France's auteur as well as
of its popular production. Denis' work has an echo of a wide range of
contemporary thought and the traces of influential aesthetic and genre
There have been vigorous debates about the condition and prospects of auteur cinema in France over the last decade, debates that seem mostly to have gone unreported in anglophone criticism of francophone cinema. But these have been paralleled by a revival of international debate about the status of the auteur: in their extended chapter on auteur cinema added to the second edition of Cook's The Cinema Book, Pam Cook and Mieke Bernink observe that this was definitely underway by 1995. This book summarises the development of auteurism as a field up to the 1990s, drawing particularly on Wright Wexman's historical overview. Georges Méliès was the first auteur. Following the advent of structuralism and structuralist approaches to narrative and communication in the mid 1960s, a type of auteurism was born that preserved a focus on authorship. The book presents an account of the development of Olivier Assayas' career, and explores this idea of what one might call 'catastrophe cinema'. Jacques Audiard's work reflects several dominant preoccupations of contemporary French cinema, such as an engagement with realism (the phenomenon of the 'new new wave') and the interrogation of the construction of (cultural) memory. The book then discusses the films of the Dardenne brothers and their documentaries. Michael Haneke's films can be read as a series of polemical correctives to the morally questionable viewing practices. An introduction to Ozon's films that revolve around the centrality of queer desire to his cinema, and the continual performative transformations of identity worked within it, is presented.
work and engage its spectators.
Shakespeare both taps and derides our unquenchable desire for stories. Even
as we know that we are being mocked, we continue to fall prey to their
power. The metafictional framework of V.O.S. fulfils a comparable
function: rather than spoil our fun or distance us from its fictional
world(s), it appeals to us even more strongly by advocating the ultimate
inability of the frame-breaking devices
This book explores the diverse literary, film and visionary creations of the polymathic and influential British artist Clive Barker. It presents groundbreaking essays that critically reevaluate Barker's oeuvre. These include in-depth analyses of his celebrated and lesser known novels, short stories, theme park designs, screen and comic book adaptations, film direction and production, sketches and book illustrations, as well as responses to his material from critics and fan communities. The book examines Barker's earlier fiction and its place within British horror fiction and socio-cultural contexts. Selected tales from the Books of Blood are exemplary in their response to the frustrations and political radicalism of the 1980s British cultural anxieties. Aiming to rally those who stand defiant of Thatcher's polarising vision of neoliberal British conservatism, Weaveworld is revealed to be a savage indictment of 1980s British politics. The book explores Barker's transition from author to filmmaker, and how his vision was translated, captured, and occasionally compromised in its adaptation from page to the screen. Barker's work contains features which can be potentially read as feminine and queer, positioning them within traditions of the Gothic, the melodrama and the fantastic. The book examines Barker's works, especially Hellraiser, Nightbreed, and Lord of Illusions, through the critical lenses of queer culture, desire, and brand recognition. It considers Barker's complex and multi-layered marks in the field, exploring and re-evaluating his works, focusing on Tortured Souls and Mister B. Gone's new myths of the flesh'.
is not merely
a question of chronology. A decade before Joyce’s novel, George
Moore’s The Lake (1905) wove an anti-clerical critique of Irish Catholicism into a narrative of self-discovery through the honest acknowledgement of sexual desire. The novel begins with a parish priest in the
west of Ireland, Father Gogarty, condemning from the pulpit the local
teacher, Rose Leicester, who has become pregnant while unmarried. On
hearing this condemnation she immediately leaves and makes her way
to England. Through his correspondence with Rose over the subsequent
Gender (and) politics in Colombian women’s documentary
the national: in Chircales and La Sierra either desire
for a woman (in the former) or woman’s desire (in the latter)
becomes bound up with desired versions of the nation, constituting a
major discursive shift.
The films’ self-positioning within discourses of
materialism and feminism is a crucial issue in a region where the
rhetoric and visual strategies of the New Latin American Cinema (of
acts and actors go to
work. Part of my immediate attachment to the text derives from its depiction of
the desiring, desired, aging female subject (and the temporarily objectified male).
Here, however, I am focused on the effects the play’s dramaturgy has on my
conviction that thinking is doing and doing, thinking.2 More, playwright and
audience are tightly coupled, locked in a mutually reflective embrace. This
text calls me to attend to my own practice as a creative responder, sometimes
called ‘critic’. If artists are implicated in the making of the world, in the
This book is a collection of essays that offers a new lens through which to examine Spain's cinematic production following the decades of isolation imposed by the Franco regime. The films analysed span a period of some 40 years that have been crucial in the development of Spain, Spanish democracy and Spanish cinema. The book offers a new lens to examine Spain's cinematic production following the decades of isolation imposed by the Franco regime. The figure of the auteur jostles for attention alongside other features of film, ranging from genre, intertexuality and ethics, to filmic language and aesthetics. At the heart of this project lies an examination of the ways in which established auteurs and younger generations of filmmakers have harnessed cinematic language towards a commentary on the nation-state and the politics of historical and cultural memory. The films discussed in the book encompass different genres, both popular and more select arthouse fare, and are made in different languages: English, Basque, Castilian, Catalan, and French. Regarded universally as a classic of Spanish arthouse cinema, El espíritu de la colmena/The Spirit of the Beehive has attracted a wealth of critical attention which has focused on political, historical, psychological and formal aspects of Víctor Erice's co-authored film-text. Luis Bunuel's Cet obscur objet du désir/That Obscure Object of Desire, Catalan filmmaker Ventura Pons' Ocana. Retrat Intermitent/Ocana. An Intermittent Portrait, Francisco Franco's El Dorado, Víctor Erice's El sol del membrillo/The Quince Tree Sun, and Julio Medem's Vacas/Cows are some films that are discussed.
inevitability of a lack or an
excess – in other words, the impossibility of certainty – does not mean
abandoning hope, or giving up on dreams altogether.
EDKINS 9781526119032 PRINT.indd 214
A problem arises, Lauren Berlant tells us, when what we are
holding on to, what we desire, is actually what is holding us back.
She points to the example of a violent relationship, where we know
it is doing us harm, destroying us even, but yet we cannot give up on
it – because we cannot see ourselves surviving without it. She calls