narration was less his
than the consequence of his means, less an intervention than a recording,
and by that fact (or illusion) Muybridge gained his fame.
Muybridge’s images were not
projected but printed in a book. Each page was a study of a particular
movement or action, all the elements simultaneously present at a glance
rather than consecutively as in a projected film strip, each effacing the
their protagonists to smithereens, prodding them towards reassemblage in
radically new environs, pulling them in and out of familiar and deeply
unfamiliar frames, experimenting constantly with the all-pervasive prodding
of change. Ozon’s cinema prior to Angel has, above all, been a
cinema concerned with the recording of the metamorphoses wrought in human
life by the intervention of forces beyond human control. His camera is often
fascinating decade for the film archivist.
Technically speaking there was a lot going on: the end of the nitrate
era, the development of wide-screen and novelty formats, the increasing
use of colour, advances in sound recording technology, lighter more
portable 16mm camera equipment, the coming of television. I am
concentrating on the holdings of the British Film Institute’s
National Film and TV Archive
design and costume planning; on music scoring and
recording. By not shooting unnecessary scenes, or camera angles within
scenes, filming days could be reduced to a minimum. This unusual production
method is of particular interest because it involves editorial matters that
are directly concerned with dramatic structure.
Pépé le Moko is a French film, stylishly
directed by Julien Duvivier and featuring Jean Gabin in the title role
documentary film-making which was most directly
influenced by what happened in May 1968.
Documentary film-making in France in the 1960s had been
dominated by cinéma-vérité – the recording of
everyday life and events – as in Jean Rouch’s Chronique
d’un été (1961) and Chris Marker’s Le Joli
Mai (1963). This style was gradually supplanted by more formally
experimental and politically-motivated forms of
Film sound merits study because it is an essential component of cinema. This book considers the ways in which one might come to terms with the materiality of film sound, both beyond and in relation to its semiotic or significatory dimensions. It discusses Michel Chion's proposal that any critical engagement with the film's materiality must be informed by the idea that what people term as 'the film' is marked by a relationship between sound and image. Running alongside the significatory is a parallel universe of materiality, with ways of knowing sound, and ways of registering sonic presences. Between the First and Second World Wars a series of experimental concrete sound mirrors was constructed to serve as an early warning system against airborne attack from mainland Europe. John Smith's work engages directly in a destabilisation of the model of sound-image relations that informs much of classical film practice. The book focuses on optical crackle and ground noise as sounds which signal just a sense of the past, and on the quality of compression that contributes to the sonic signature of older film soundtracks. The materiality of the strange sounds of electronica can be sounded by considering the ways in which tensions between the radical potential of noise, cinesonic codes, and the processes of history weave through the cinesonic text. Whitney Brothers' Five Film Exercises are of particular relevance to a study of the cinesonic. Cartoon sound begins with violence, or rather its threat, as evidenced by the Warner Bros. cartoons.
This book is a study of documentary series such as Michael Apted's world-famous Seven Up films that set out to trace the life-journeys of individuals from their earliest schooldays till they are fully grown adults. In addition to Seven Up, the book provides extended accounts of the two other best known longitudinal series to have been produced in the last three or four decades. It includes Winifred and Barbara Junge's The Children of Golzow and Swedish director Rainer Hartleb's The Children of Jordbro. The book first examines some of the principal generic features of long docs and considers the highly significant role that particular institutions have had on their production, promotion and dissemination. It then explores a study of how the individual works originated, with a special emphasis on the nurturing role of particular institutions. The book also explores the affinities that long docs have with soap opera texts, which have similar aspirations to neverendingness. Both long docs and soaps rely on an episodic mode of delivery and both seek to persuade their audience that they are attempting to chronicle real-time developments. Finally, the book explores the variety of ways in which long doc filmmakers contrive to bring their work to a satisfactory conclusion.
the science fiction animations.
In some ways the construction of performance in Final
Fantasy was not dissimilar to the reconstruction of Bacon’s
performance in Hollow Man: both Hollow Man’s substituted
performance via digital mapping and the extensive use of ‘motion
capture’ 6 in the creation of
characters in Final Fantasy relied initially on the recording of
human performance. The difference
overlap different techniques and styles either successively or in a single
scene and sometimes within a single shot (depth of field and focal distortions in the attempted suicide of Susan in Citizen Kane). Second is
the use of shot sequences and excessively detailed montage sequences,
for example the opening of Touch of Evil and its close that create a gap
between sounds and images (they have different references, different
rhythms and seem to inhabit different spaces as in the scene of the
recording by Vargas of Quinlan’s dialogue with Menzies in Touch of
. The interplay between audiences and performers in
comedy is demonstrated by the shooting style of many television sitcoms,
which garner a real audience to watch the recording, re-creating the
theatrical experience within a television studio. This audience is seen as
so vital to the comic performance that its oral responses are recorded, resulting in the
laugh track which accompanies many sitcoms. It is significant that many