One of the consequences for Orson Welles of working in Europe was that
it took a long time, often years, for him to complete a film once begun,
and, because he was subject to constraints imposed by a lack of funding,
these productions had a ‘make-do’ quality to them, not exactly improvisation so much as resourcefulness. When costumes did not materialise
for a scene in Othello (1952) because they had not been paid for, Welles
shot the scene in a Turkish bath where costumes were not necessary.
Similarly, studio set-ups were often not available to him
This book explores a number of Alan Moore's works in various forms, including comics, performance, short prose and the novel, and presents a scholarly study of these texts. It offers additional readings to argue for a politically charged sense of Moore's position within the Gothic tradition, investigates surreal Englishness in The Bojeffries Saga, and discusses the doppelganger in Swamp Thing and From Hell. Radical environmental activism can be conceived as a Gothic politics invoking the malevolent spectre of a cataclysmic eco-apocalypse. The book presents Christian W. Schneider's treatment of the apocalyptic in Watchmen and a reassessment of the significance of liminality from the Gothic tradition in V for Vendetta. It explores the relationship between Moore's work and broader textual traditions, placing particular emphasis on the political and cultural significance of intertextual relationships and adaptations. A historically sensitive reading of From Hell connects Moore's concern with the urban environment to his engagement with a range of historical discourses. The book elucidates Moore's treatment of the superhero in relation to key Gothic novels such as The Castle of Otranto and presents an analysis of the nexus of group politics and survival in Watchmen. The book also engages in Moore's theories of art, magic, resurrections, and spirits in its discourse A Small Killing, A Disease of Language, and the Voice of the Fire. It also explores the insight that his adaptations of H.P. Lovecraft, which are laced with heterocosms and bricolage, can yield for broader understandings of his forays into the occult.
is always a risk that the individual will
fall back on one of the two other poles, either attempting to subscribe
entirely to individualist–universal values or, on the contrary, remaining
within the realm of the community (Wieviorka 1993a). So it is possible
to identify three main themes which characterise this deﬁnition of subjectivity: the notion of unstable identity, the theme of innovation or creativity (also present in the sense of bricolage identitaire or Roger Bastide’s
sociologie du bricolage and Lapeyronnie’s construction de soi) and the notion
Heterocosms and bricolage in Moore’s recent reworkings of Lovecraft
Matthew J.A. Green
to Lovecraft in the form of a standalone short story. 3
The violence inherent in bricolage is
mirrored, 4 in
Lovecraft’s work, by representations of forces capable not
only of violating bodies, but of bursting through the very fabric of
time and space; the only hope resides in a careful negotiation of
textual bodies – either the careful curtailing of knowledge
Edwards has argued against the ‘totalising rhetoric’ of Daniel’s critical template. 12 Edwards’s Derridean-influenced article usefully sets Carey’s text off against Murray Bail’s post-modern play in Homesickness (1980) and Holden’s Performance (1988) and examines Carey’s post-modern exploration of construction and bricolage particularly through a focus on language and writing. Margaret Harris has made interesting intertexual analogies with George Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss 13 to demonstrate the post-modern qualities of Oscar and Lucinda , while Wenche
Air-raid sirens were tested, weaponstraining began and trenches were dug at a leisurely
pace. 11 People seemed more interested in
the activities of former mission-school boys in the Cabinet and Churchill’s fisticuffs
with U Saw in London. 12
The mood in Mandalay changed abruptly in December
1941. The bricolage of fear, cynicism and nervous anticipation gave way to blind panic. The
mood was heightened by the sight of European refugees packing into Wesley Church for prayer
and carol-singing. 13 White strangers
history into a pure and irreducible eternity, remote from its former spatial and personal meaning.
By accessing eternity in this way, bombsites became a refuge for those who wanted to escape from modernity, and so a theme of conflict with modernism often characterises the cultural examples in this chapter. Modernism, with its enthusiasm for bricolage and fragment, seemed to have predicted the ruinscape of the 1940s, but I would argue that, as a way of looking at the world, it was put under strain by the sudden actualisation of its metaphors. In
This book consists of 50 categories arranged in alphabetical order centred on film modernism. Each category, though autonomous, interacts, intersects, juxtaposes with the others, entering into a dialogue with them and in so doing creates connections, illuminations, associations and rhymes which may not have arisen in a more conventional framework. The categories refer to particular films and directors that raise questions related to modernism, and, inevitably thereby to classicism. The book is more in the way of questions and speculations than answers and conclusions. Its intention is to stimulate not simply by the substance of what is said, but by the way it is said and structured. Most attention is given to the works of Michelangelo Antonioni, Bernardo Bertolucci, John Ford, Jean-Luc Godard, Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock, João César Monteiro, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Nicholas Ray, Alain Resnais, Roberto Rossellini, Luchino Visconti and Orson Welles. The apparent arbitrary order and openness of the book, based as it is on the alphabet is indebted to Jean-Luc Godard’s interrogation of History and of film history especially true in his stunning Histoire(s) du cinema.
This book discusses Shakespeare’s deployment of French material within genres
whose dominant Italian models and affinities might seem to leave little scope
for French ones. It proposes specific, and unsuspected, points of contact but
also a broad tendency to draw on French intertexts, both dramatic and
non-dramatic, to inflect comic forms in potentially tragic directions. The
resulting tensions within the genre are evident from the earliest comedies to
the latest tragicomedies (or ‘romances’). An introduction establishes the French
inflection of Italian modes and models, beginning with The Taming of the Shrew,
as a compositional paradigm and the basis for an intertextual critical approach.
Next, A Midsummer Night’s Dream is related to three French intertexts
highlighting, respectively, its use of pastoral dramatic convention, its
colouration by the histoire tragique and its parodic dramatisation of the
Pyramus and Thisbe story. The third chapter interrogates the ‘French’ settings
found in the romantic comedies, while the fourth applies French intertexts to
three middle-to-late comedies as experiments in tragicomedy. Finally, the
distinctive form given tragicomedy (or ‘romance’) in Shakespeare’s late
production is set against the evolution of tragicomedy in France and related to
French intertexts that shed new light on the generic synthesis achieved—and the
degree of bricolage employed in achieving it.
Madchester may have been born at the Haçienda in the summer of 1988, but the city had been in creative ferment for almost a decade prior to the rise of Acid House. The End-of-the-Century Party is the definitive account of a generational shift in popular music and youth culture, what it meant and what it led to. First published right after the Second Summer of Love, it tells the story of the transition from New Pop to the Political Pop of the mid-1980s and its deviant offspring, Post-Political Pop. Resisting contemporary proclamations about the end of youth culture and the rise of a new, right-leaning conformism, the book draws on interviews with DJs, record company bosses, musicians, producers and fans to outline a clear transition in pop thinking, a move from an obsession with style, packaging and synthetic sounds to content, socially conscious lyrics and a new authenticity. This edition is framed by a prologue by Tara Brabazon, which asks how we can reclaim the spirit, energy and authenticity of Madchester for a post-youth, post-pop generation. It is illustrated with iconic photographs by Kevin Cummins.