Reconceptualising British landscapes through the lens of children’s cinema
Fantasy, fallacy and allusion:
reconceptualising British landscapes
through the lens of children’s cinema
The British Landscape, more than almost any other, save perhaps that of the
Netherlands, has been shaped by humans. The countryside is a fabrication, an artifice, reinvented every so many years or generations to match and mirror the latest
currents in farming, industry, road building or the rush of people to and from the
city. Even seemingly unchanged landscapes, like those of the Lake District, are not
exactly still. Once, before
This book explores the relationship between allusion and the uncanny in literature. An unexpected echo or quotation in a new text can be compared to the sudden appearance of a ghost or mysterious double, the reanimation of a corpse or the discovery of an ancient ruin hidden in a modern city. This study identifies moments where this affinity between allusion and the uncanny is used by writers to generate a particular textual charge, where uncanny elements are used to flag patterns of allusion and to point to the haunting presence of an earlier work. The book traces the subtle patterns of connection between texts centuries, even millennia apart, from Greek tragedy and Latin epic, through the plays of Shakespeare and the Victorian novel, to contemporary film, fiction and poetry. Each chapter takes a different uncanny motif as its focus: doubles, ruins, reanimation, ghosts and journeys to the underworld.
The Allusive Languages of Myth, Fairy Tale and Monstrosity in The Falconer
This essay examines how Alice Thompson‘s novel, The Falconer (2008), creates a richly allusive Gothic weave by analysing its symbolic languages of myth, nature, and monstrosity, and how it reimagines and reinterprets other modes and texts associated with the Gothic, namely Du Maurier‘s Rebecca and the Bluebeard fairy tale, as well as Scottish ballad tradition and popular fairy belief. Mirroring the trope of metamorphosis which thematically and stylistically informs the novel, the essay also explores how these allusively poetic uses of Gothic become politicised in the portrayal of German Nazism and of traumatic historical memory.
An important theme in current studies of environmental representation is the
inadequacy of many narratological and stylistic techniques for registering
ecological complexity. This article argues that, in the case of cinema, water
constitutes an especially vivid example of an allusive natural subject, and it
examines the means by which one film, The Bay (Barry Levinson,
2012), manages to confront that challenge. It pays particular attention to
The Bay’s treatment of animal life, and its
acknowledgement of water’s infrastructural currency. The article draws on
the writings of ecocritical literary theorist Timothy Morton and media historian
and theorist John Durham Peters.
For educated poets and readers in the Renaissance, classical literature was as familiar and accessible as the work of their compatriots and contemporaries – often more so. Their creative response to it was not a matter of dry scholarship or inert imitation, but rather of engagement in an ancient and lively conversation which was still unfolding, both in the modern languages and in new Latin verse. This volume seeks to recapture that sense of intimacy and immediacy, as scholars from both sides of the modern disciplinary divide come together to eavesdrop on the conversations conducted through allusion and intertextual play in works from Petrarch to Milton and beyond, and offer their perspectives on the intermingling of ancient and modern strains in the reception of the classical past and its poetry. The essays include illuminating discussions of Ariosto, Du Bellay, Spenser, Marlowe, the anonymous drama Caesars Revenge, Shakespeare and Marvell, and look forward to the grand retrospect of Shelley’s ‘Adonais’. Together, they help us to understand how poets across the ages have thought about their relation to their predecessors, and about their own contributions to what Shelley would call ‘that great poem, which all poets… have built up since the beginning of the world’.
This article considers the allusions to classical statuary in Matthew G. Lewis’s
novel The Monk (1796) and his Journal of a West India
Proprietor Kept during a Residence in the Island of Jamaica (1816).
Drawing on John Barrell’s account of civic discourse on the fine arts after
Shaftesbury, I explain and contextualise the centrality of the Venus de’ Medici
statue to Lewis’s representations of male desire and male virtue. Images of
Venus, both in The Monk and in the Journal,
function as tests of civic virtue and articulate the conditions of Lewis’s
entitlement to hold and govern slaves in Jamaica. Lewis’s colonial inheritance
underpins the narratives of desire in The Monk, and inflects
his authorship more generally.
Pablo Corro‘s 2014 book Retóricas del cine chileno (Rhetorics of Chilean Cinema) is a
wide-ranging examination of the style and concerns that have come to characterise
Chilean film-making from the 1950s to the present day. Corro demonstrates how ideas
of national cinema are always to some extent dependent on transnational currents of
cinematic ideas and techniques, as well as on local political contexts. The chapter
presented here, Weak Poetics, adapts Gianni Vattimo‘s notion of weak thought to
discuss the growing attention paid by Chilean films to the mundane, the everyday and
the intimate. Corro‘s dense, allusive writing skilfully mirrors the films he
describes, in which meaning is fragmented and dispersed into glimpsed appearances and
acousmatic sounds. Corros historicisation of this fracturing of meaning allows the
cinema of the everyday to be understood not as a retreat from politics, but as a
recasting of the grounds on which it might occur.
I will read John Winthrop‘s Model of Christian Charity against and through Edgar Allan Poe‘s poem ‘The City in the Sea’. Winthrop and Poe both localize a ‘city’ to represent an extreme form of society. The koine Greek of Matthew 5 uses the word polis to describe a ‘city on a hill’. Christ says this city must not be hidden, but rather should shine so that the world may see it. The New Testament‘s merging of ‘politics’ and ‘city’ in the word polis makes it unsurprising that many Anglophone writers invoke ‘city’ in a title or phrase when making political innuendoes. Winthrop was a devotee of scripture, and Poe knew Greek, so their allusions to a representative human city are fraught with cultural meaning. To contextualize and compare their particular evocations of the city metaphor, I incorporate the theories of Edward Said and present cross-references to Eugène Delacroix, the prophecies of Ezekiel, and Shelley‘s poem ‘Ozymandias’. The Holy Land is at once fixed in the exotic Middle East yet necessary for America‘s quotidian social mores. Winthrop and Poe romanticize, appropriate, and exploit Middle Eastern symbolism. The interesting twist, however, is that Poe Orientalizes Winthrop‘s city on a hill, and in so doing, he Orientalizes Winthrop, and perhaps America‘s own religious fanaticism.
Though pointedly raising its literary pedigree with allusions to ‘high’ literature from Percy‘s RELIQUES to Spensers FAIRIE QUEENE, Coleridge‘s ‘Christabel’ (1799-1801) still draws heavily on the very Gothic fiction of the 1790s that he condemns as ‘low’ writing in reviews of the same period. Especially Gothic is this poems alter-ego relationship between the title character and the vampiric Geraldine. This peculiar use of echoes extends the many jibes of this period that blame the many literary changes of this time (including a mass-produced effulgence of printed writing and a frightening blurring of genres) on the Gothic as a kind of scapegoat for the cultural upheaval of this era. The Gothic is, in fact, a site for what Kristeva calls ‘abjection’: the cultural ‘throwing off’ of intermingled contradictions,into a symbolic realm that seems blatantly fictional and remote. As such a site, the Gothic in ‘Christabel’ haunts the poem with unresolved cultural quandaries that finally contribute to its unfinished, fragmentary nature. One such quandary is what is abjected in the Gothic relationship of the heroine and Geraldine: the irresolution at the time about the nature and potentials of woman.
What is film remaking? Which films are remakes of other films? How does remaking
differ from other types of repetition, such as quotation, allusion, adaptation? How
is remaking different from the cinemas ability to repeat and replay the same film
through reissue, redistribution and re-viewing? These are questions which have seldom
been asked, let alone satisfactorily answered. This article refers to books and
essays dealing directly with ‘film remakes’ and the concept of ‘remaking film’, from
Michael B. Druxman‘s Make It Again, Sam (1975) to Horton and McDougal‘s Play It
Again, Sam (1998) and Forrest and Koo‘s’ Dead Ringers: The Remake in Theory and
Practice (2002). In addition, this article draws upon Rick Altman‘s Film/Genre,
developing from that book the idea that, although film remakes (like film genres) are
often ‘located’ in either authors or texts or audiences, they are in fact not located
in any single place but depend upon a network of historically variable relationships.
Accordingly this discussion falls into three sections: the first, remaking as
industrial category, deals with issues of production, including industry (commerce)
and authors (intention); the second, remaking as textual category, considers texts
(plots and structures) and taxonomies; and the third, remaking as critical category,
deals with issues of reception, including audiences (recognition) and institutions