Back from the Void, with ‘Touki Bouki’

Well, it’s only been 8 months. I’ve seen many movies and written nothing about any of them. I hope to start working through my backlog soon. Some movies that may show up in the annals here are The Ward, Megan is Missing, The Human Centipede (still waiting to see the sequal), and The Devil Inside.

This post, however, is somewhat different than my normal rambling. It is a short essay (five pages) that I wrote for my students about the Mambety film Touki Bouki. I wrote this as a homework assignment for myself after being asked by my class to a) make sense of the movie, and b) provide some guidance for how to approach a film. The class is English 110, Intro to Film Studies, and so my goal was to foreground technical terms, show how those terms are employed to make meaning, and illustrate how the political aspects of a film can start to be drawn simply by examining its construction. My essay by no means touches on every aspect of the film, but I believe it introduces main talking points, and achieves the modest goals I set for myself. I am publishing it here so that my students can have access to it, and so that maybe those who have not seen the film will be motivated to do so.

Senegalese writer/director Djibril Diop Mambéty’s 1973 classic Touki Bouki is notable across Africa and around the world as a tour-de-force that both uses and challenges Western film expectations with a particular voice of the director’s native culture. To be sure, despite Touki Bouki’s simple story and ‘road movie’ guise, Mambéty employs the politically charged techniques of analytical editing, repetitious sound motifs, and cinema verité style cinematography to challenge Western standards of narrative cohesion and express the tensions overhanging post-colonial Senegal. Likewise, it employs these mechanisms to challenge Western ideals of the progress and inherent goodness in modernity and modernization. For the rest of this piece, I will briefly outline some ways that editing, sound, and narrative choices work to complicate this film in ways reminiscent of the French New Wave and the New Hollywood styles, but which because of its documentary nature and strictly African point of view, stay true to Mambéty’s desire to make a truly African film style.

In short, the film is about a young couple, Mory and Anta, who dream of leaving a post-colonial Senegal to go to Paris. Anta is a student at the local university, and by all accounts (but only those revealed by others) she is interested in feminism, Russian socialism, and the American hippie movement. Mory seems to be a drifter who has no real goals, nor is he able to successfully follow through with any plans he does hatch. For Mory, Paris is the where anyone who is anyone lives. This is signaled several times through the sound motif of Josephine Baker’s song ‘Paris, Paris, Paris’ as well as through Mony’s dialogue espousing the greatness of the city to which he has never been, and to which his best connection seems only to be a bombastic view touted by French products like the Baker song itself. Paris is a long way off, though, because the couple does not have enough money to sail from their home city of Dakar. The film follows their various plans for obtaining their travelling funds. They eventually steal some expensive clothes and a car from a man who wants to take Mory as a lover, and make it to the ship. Anta boards, but Mory becomes stricken with fear at the possibility that France may not truly be the way out of his stagnant and disillusioned life. He runs for his life, literally running back to the heart of the city in which he grew up, leaving Anta to sail by herself.

Mambéty wastes no time in playing with the audience’s expectations, employing a poignant scene of cows being slaughtered (a visual motif that he repeats throughout the film with both cows and goats) shot in a cinema verité style. This real-life footage of cows being herded and slaughtered by hand is a shocking intro to the movie. However, Mambéty then ups the ante: he uses a montage edit to restart the movie and introduce us to Mory, our would-be hero, riding a motorcycle with a cow’s skull and long horns strapped to the front. Narratively, this edit works to create two beginnings, and two different sets of ideals. First, there is a matter-of-fact presentation of a traditional cow-herding group doing their job without mechanical aid. A young boy is seen riding one of the cows across an open plain; this boy is set in direct contrast to Mory after the edit because the cow horns are still there, but they are mounted on a motorcycle in an almost ironic fashion. Stylistically, this edit changes from the cinema verité style to an obviously staged scene with Mory riding his bike, a move which again contrasts the traditional world with that of modernity; handiwork and physical labor is juxtaposed with mechanized transportation and filmmaking.

Perhaps the most complex scene in the film in terms of both style and meaning is the scene near the beginning of the film in which Mory and Anta decide that they must leave Dakar. The film employs complex analytical editing, distorted semi-diegetic sound, and disorienting temporal shifts that confuse the viewer and throw the rest of film’s events into question. The scene begins with Mory being kidnapped and tied to a truck by a group of young men who, moments earlier, had verbally accosted Anta. When Mory shows up looking for Anta at her university, the men in the truck pull him off his motorcycle and tie him to the back of the truck. The scene then crosscuts to Anta returning to her home and asking her Aunt, a sorceress, where Mory is. The audience at this point assumes that Mory has been kidnapped and that Aunt Oumy will have not seen him. Instead, she says in a sarcastic way that he has jumped off the cliffs to avoid having to pay her for the rice he bought from her. Anta is unsure of whether her aunt it serious or not, and begins running to see where Mory is.

It is at this point that the scene, already confusing because of the unfulfilled crosscut between Mory being kidnapped and Aunt Oumy implying that he is at the ocean cliffs nearby, is thrown into a sequence of complex montage editing that further distorts the temporal aspects of the plot. The shots that are edited in repetition include two men killing and bleeding a goat, Aunt Oumy skinning that goat, Aunt Oumy disparaging Mory and laughing hysterically, Anta running down the coast to look for Mory, shots of Mory’s motorcycle sitting at the edge of a cliff by the ocean, Anta disrobing and kneeling down on the ground below camera view, large birds circling in the sky, waves crashing violently over rocks, and Anta’s hand on the sissy bar of Mory’s motocycle. This complex editing imparts feelings of tension and terror that Mory has died. It also mixes the verité style of the goat being slaughtered (reminiscent of the opening scene with the cows), the birds flying overhead, and the ocean waves, with the rest of the narrative film. Anta’s repeated running down the stairs confuses the temporal progression of the film begging the questions whether this scene has happened before or after Mory was kidnapped, a plot point to which we never return. The scene also reinforces the focus the traditional family structure, Aunt Oumy’s role as caregiver and spiritual leader, and the close connections to nature. Like the Russian formalists to which this scene is indebted, the sequence is visually haunting, narratively confusing, and politically impactful.

The sound for this sequence includes Auny Oumy’s terrifying laugh, the distorted and echoed cries of the birds, the sound of the waves, a bell, and, later, the sounds of what seems like Anta sobbing, but is in fact the sounds of her orgasm. Most of the sound begins a synchronous diegetic sound, but often sounds carry from one shot to the next and many are mechanically distorted and repeated. This makes the line between diegetic and non-diegetic a blurry one, and helps to mimic the confusion brought on by the cinematographic changes in the sequence as well as the montage style editing. Narratively, the sound is happening at times that seem to have nothing to do with each other, yet it is also all happening simultaneously. The narrative confusion set up by the crosscutting and montage of the sequence is only further obfuscated by the sound structure.

The techniques used in this scene are employed again at the end of the film. As Mory runs away from the boat, now unsure about whether Paris is truly the place of dreams, the montage style editing returns and we get glimpses of the opening slaughterhouse scene intercut with people boarding the boat and Mory running from the docks. Here, the opening slaughterhouse scene also takes on new meaning. While on the one hand, the march of the cows to the slaughter is likened to the boarding passengers eager for Paris, the audience cannot help but think about the opening juxtaposition which seemed to accept the slaughter as a matter of fact way of life for a group of traditional farmers. In both senses, Mory seems to be running from the West, running from modernization, and running back to a Dakar that, while not glorious like Baker’s version of France, is still the city where he feels he belongs. As the audience watches the boat leave the harbor, assuming that Anta is beginning her new adventure while Mory returns to his life in Dakar, the scene cuts back to one that the audience has scene before. It is a high angle shot of the coast cliffs, with Mory and Anta relaxing in the sun after having made love. This shot is the one that ends the complex montage sequence detailed above, and is the scene in which the two decide that they should go to Paris if they can get the money. With this shot, it is clear that the two never had any of the adventures that made up the rest of the film, and instead simply daydreamed them all. This move further complicates the timeline of events surrounding Mory’s kidnapping and Anta’s discovery of him at the coast, while putting into question all of the events of the film. The film fittingly ends where it begins, with the young boy riding a cow leading his family’s herd to the slaughterhouse. Life, it seems, will go on in Dakar whether Mory and Anta stay or leave, and the old way of doing things will coexist, no  matter how tenuously, with the pressures of modernity from the Western world.

Mambéty’s goal for Touki Bouki, and indeed for all of his films, was to construct a specifically African film language that represented and respected the people of his country and his continent. He wished to complicate the simplicity of the classic Hollywood style, and by employing the techniques of montage editing, stylized sound motifs, and complicated narrative structures he was able to craft a film that challenges Western ideals about filmmaking and social progress, while at the same time making a visually striking and complexly textured filmic experience.

‘Bridesmaids’

I have yet to see Bridesmaids. But I don’t think I have to see it to write about it. Kelli Marshall has already made the move from the reviews of the first week to meta-commentary. (Also, see her post for a great round up of the first reviews.) Her commentary, which I think is right on target, will no doubt be joined by other commentary soon. (I tweeted early on that I wondered if Bridesmaids would be a sounding point of feminist film crit. for years to come – I doubt now that it will be; but, I think a few more pages have yet to be written.) To add my late two cents to the pot, I’d like to pick up on some of the hysteria that Ms. Marshall indicates surround the film.

If the hype around the film is to be believed, all women (or those who support women in comedic roles) have a duty to see Bridesmaids because if the movie does not do well, another female-lead comedy will never make it past the waste-basket in the tiniest of offices in the tiniest of production companies. This movie is THE movie that will prove if women can lead in the gross-out genre traditionally dominated by doltish men and eye candy women (or in comedies in general).

It seems as thought the hysteria paid off, in one way or another. The film has done quite well. Either every woman who could, did go see the movie, or guys decided it might be worth it and forked over a few sheckles, too. It seems that *most* find the film funny (even though it is clear that the fat-girl-is-funny and whitewashing trends of most film is glaringly present and obvious), and male and female reviews have responded positively. This is great news, and hopefully its success, coupled with productive criticism, will lead to more funny female leads in more movies of all genres, not just gross-out flicks.

But I wonder if all the hype hasn’t done some damage besides putting pressure on this one movie, and in turn putting pressure on all women to support the film even if they don’t like it, just so that they can hope to see more leading ladies down the road. I wonder if the press for this movie hasn’t done what so many individual films have done to strong, singular female leads in the past: make them super women, larger than life, so completely unreal that no woman can identify with them. Angelina Jolie is a great example of an actress who plays this character over and over, as so many of her films feature her defying the laws of physics and society. Bridesmaids, clearly, does focus on ‘regular’ women. It was written by women about interactions that women have. It makes its effort to create real women with real lives. But the marketing for the film completely obliterates this reality. Instead, the women get subsumed by the marketing and hype, the hysteria explodes, and the film screams ‘I AM THE FILM THAT WILL CHANGE EVERYTHING’.

‘Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I will fail, and take my stars with me. I may change the rules for the future, or further solidify those that are already in place. Either way, I am larger than life. I am different from every other gross-out movie. I defy the laws of marketing (after all, women are not funny).’

If Bridesmaids works, like it seems that it has, I am not convinced that female stars for the gross-out (or any other comedy) will start flooding the screen. It won’t matter if the characters are normal or extraordinary. It won’t matter if the Adam Sandler or Kevin Smith camps think they can one-up Apatow at his own game. It won’t matter because Bridesmaids is not normal; it can’t relate to other movies. I am guessing other production companies won’t want try their hand at copying Bridesmaids’ success because they will always be held in comparison, measured against Apatow’s yardstick (and we all know how little men like to measure if they think the ruler will be a bit short on their end). The film has been isolated, removed from circulation. Just like a non-white mother of four can’t relate to S.A.L.T or Mrs. Smith, I fear that Bridesmaids has been marketed in a way that makes it so larger-than-life that it will forever stand as an aberration, not a trail-blazer.

Future commentary to come, once I get off my duff and head on down to a theater near me.

Water for Elephants – a.k.a my tears

Well, I did it. I saw Water for Elephants. And I cried. And I’m not too proud to admit it. I am also not to proud to admit that I am not sure that I can ‘analyze’ the film. And frankly, I think that is okay, because it actually means the film its job really well. That is, the film is a hardcore melodrama designed to distract us from the war (oh wait, Bin Laden is dead – so that’s all over with, right?) and whatever else might be bothering us.

‘So, what the hell am I going to wright about this movie?’ I kept asking myself. ‘I guess I have to write about the elephant. Or, perhaps I should write about the totally creepy family dynamic set up in the film.’ Oh, wait, its the same thing.

(Spoiler Alert! – maybe) The über-condensed plot of the film is that August (Christoph Waltz) owns a failing circus. His star performer and wife (in that order, I think) is Marlena (Reese Witherspoon). They acquire an elephant (Rosie) that the newly orphaned veterinary student Jacob (Robert Pattinson) is hired to train. August is a violent drunk, abusing Marlena, Jacob, and the animals. Marlena and Jacob fall in love, drama ensues, and they live happily ever after-ish.

Basically, the dynamic that arises is that Jacob and Rosie become the children stuck in the middle of the abusive marriage of parents Marlena and August. Jacob, the strapping young lad who is coming into his own is the older son. He’s too old to be beaten by dad, but not old enough to defend anyone around him with any effectiveness. (To be fair, August does have hired goons to help him carry out his brutality.) He is also asked several times to be the messenger between the parents, his desire to belong and have a meaningful life tempered and confused by his drive to do what he knows is right. Rosie, then, becomes the little sister. Terrorized for years, she lives in the shadows of her family’s abuse, relying on her ineffectual older brother and mother to rescue her from a position they themselves cannot overcome.

Setting aside the fact that Jacob falls in love with his surrogate mother, I guess I am a little bothered by the fact that once August has gone too far and is killing Marlena, Rosie steps in and saves her by bludgeoning her ‘father’ with a metal stake. Well, okay, that’s not what bothers me. In fact I was relieved to see it happen so the awful scene could end. What bother me is that the only strong female character who stands up for herself and ends the abuse is an elephant. The movie works hard to keep both Jacob and Marlena non-violent and as sympathetic as possible. But… the bastard had it coming, and no one would have blamed Jacob if he had used August’s bull hook (oh, hey Freud) to bludgeon his ‘dad’ when he had the chance. Or if Marlena had slit his throat while he slept one off. Instead, the powerful female figure turns out to be Rosie. Its great that she is the daughter in this family dynamic, but she’s also an elephant. So, how to read this?

I guess I see it one of two ways. Maybe it is that animals have a better sense of right and wrong than people do, and they don’t let all those confusing emotions (*cough* melodrama) deter them from what needs to happen. After all, good people allow melodrama to lull their passions and dull their sensitivity to the real world, right? Or maybe, no matter how deserving daddy or hubby is of being impaled on his own bull hook, we still have problems with seeing mommy swing that hook for keeps. (It does seem okay, though, to have her prance around and flaunt her nubile body for a couple of hours – after all, Marlena doesn’t have children, so she can still be a sex doll.) The movie makes sure to not have us equate it with a circus version of Day of the Woman; Marlena would never spit on someone’s grave. Instead, the strong female character is turned into an elephant, safely distancing us from confronting that icky question of whether its okay for the abused wife to defend herself.

I actually enjoyed the movie quite a bit. I think the acting is the bees knees, and it made me want to see Waltz in a comedic role in which his humor is not all misogynistically (or Nazi-ingly) dark. But that darn elephant sends me mixed signals. I love that she stood up for herself and the ‘goodies.’ But I also would like to have seen Marlena at least help with the bludgeoning and show that you can still be sexy, loved, desired, and happy even if you did happen to kill the bastard who was abusing you for 15 years.

Thoughts on HANNA

I went to see Hanna last night with Cassie, and my first thoughts were that I liked it but did not know specifically why. I am still not sure that I know why, but some of my initial impressions follow.

 

First off, the generational gap between Hanna (Saoirse Ronan) and Marissa (Cate Blanchett) can be explored in terms of a disconnect between mothers and daughter that has been explored in the last few years by feminist writers. Marissa, when asked by Hanna’s grandmother about whether she has children of her own, responds, ‘I made certain choices,’ with a look of stoic pain in her eyes. She gave up motherhood to be a powerful CIA agent, and the movie is as much about her attempts to come to terms with this fact than with anything that Hanna is doing. Marissa listens to tapes of Hanna’s mother talking about motherhood as a way of living out a vicarious motherhood. Marissa craves motherhood, and while she maintains a stoic facade while among the men in the CIA, it is clear from the scenes in which she is alone that she wants to find Hanna not to kill her, but to mother her. This desire connects her to Hanna, but also creates a clear generational rift between the two. Marissa is constricted by her work, her personal rules, and her past; one might say the same about Hanna, but for all the strictures of her upbringing, Hanna maintains a freedom and innocence that one gets the feeling Marissa never had. Marissa gave up motherhood, but Hanna did not completely give up her childhood.

Roger Ebert notes that Blanchett allows little ‘humanity’ into her character, and that it serves the role well ( http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110406/REVIEWS/110409995/1001/reviews ). I am not sure that I agree with this statement, especially if by ‘humanity’ he means ‘emotion’. Blanchett is horrifically stoic when placed within the male world of the CIA. However, I think that Blanchett’s ability to allow a deep pain to show through the facade when she is alone is overlooked in Ebert’s review. In fact, raw emotion is all that motivates Marissa’s quest to capture Hanna and kill her father, Erik (Eric Bana); neither poses a threat of any kind to US security or the population at large. Instead, she is driven by her emotions to try to cover up the incidents surrounding the death of Hanna’s mother, what role Erik played within the CIA, or how/why Hanna has come to be such a deadly weapon. She goes to even greater lengths to conceal the extent to which she craves the emotional connection of motherhood that her ‘choices’ drove her to forgo.

Ebert notices the resemblance between Hanna and Marissa, and indicates that Hanna might in fact be Marissa’s daughter. I think that this is an astute observation, and not simply because of the casting/makeup choices. I think that the pain that Blanchett paints on the face of Marissa is the pain that Hanna’s grandmother accuses Marissa of never being able to know: The pain a mother feels when she loses her daughter. The implication does not preclude my statements above. Instead, it bolsters the deep emotional rift between the two women. Blanchett falters under the weight of Hanna being so close yet so far, and Hanna falters in a world in which motherhood is little more than a fairytale.

 

I have to comment on the lesbian moments brought up in the film. At one point, Hanna’s only friend, a 14-year-old Brit ditz named Sophie (Jessica Barden), comments, ‘I think I’d like to be a lesbian, but not one of those lesbians that looks like a man. I’d probably just want to hold hands, and I’d probably marry a man’ (my paraphrase from memory). When we hear this line, it seems like a throw away line from a 14 year old girl who knows nothing of anything and spouts off about it all. But once the two go on a double date with two young Spanish boys, and Hanna nearly kills her date after her tries to kiss her (consensually), the promise of lesbian love seems more feasible. The two girls retire to their camping tent, tell each other secrets, exchange a friendship bracelet, and Hanna kisses Sophie. This is the former’s first kiss, and it seals the film’s concern for how women can reach out to other women for emotional support, be it through motherhood or sexuality.

 

All in all, I think that the film deals with the pain felt when women are disconnected by male agency (and agents), and shows glimpses of hope for ways of reconciling that violence. Although Marissa dies and she and Hanna know each other in a supportive capacity, I think that their tale is a warning. Hanna’s first words  (to a deer she has shot with a bow and arrow) and her last (to Marissa whom she has also shot with an arrow) is ‘I just missed your heart.’ Hanna just missed my heart, also, but overall I think that it is a visually and aurally powerful film that carries positive messages for women, even if they are hidden behind the icy mask of Blanchett and Ronan.