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by Meabh Aine Broderick Picture this:
A young child hunkers down in the velvet chairs of a dimly lit theatre, her miniature figure barely filling half the large space. She sits patiently, popcorn in hand, waiting to be plunged into darkness. No sooner do the lights go down than a spectacle of colour and sound erupts onto the screen. Before her eyes, she sees a world beyond imagination unfold. A powerful woman dominates the screen, fighting the bad guys alongside her team. In her ear she hears the voice of a woman in a lab coat sitting at a computer, frantically analysing the screens. Meanwhile, the action cuts to a hospital where a mother operates on her injured son. When the lights go up, she offers a sideways glance to her mother and feels a sense of familiarity between her and the characters she had seen on screen. As she skips out to the car holding her mother’s hand, she feels like she could take on the world and be whoever she wants to be. That child is me, but her experience is something I could only dream of. For me, the doctors, scientists and heroes were replaced by princesses and damsels in distress. As it faded to black and the credits rolled, I began to scan the room for a real-life incarnation of the figures on screen, to no avail. When I returned home, wanting nothing more than to be like the women I had just come to know, I stood in front of the mirror, desperately searching for ways in which I could transform myself to achieve this goal. While this may seem like a bleak outlook on the experiences of a young, naïve child, I know that everyone can identify with it in one way or another. Ever since I was a young girl, I have dreamed of being a part of the wonderful world of film. However, this dream has always been shadowed by a series of unattainable goals that I felt must be achieved before I could do anything else. They are not random or irrational. They have been subconsciously forced upon me from the very first time I sat through a film and have stuck with me until this very day. Films have the ability to teach us and can leave a lasting impression. Unfortunately, they can also leave a nasty mark. For me, films have led me to believe that in order to succeed in life, I must look and act a certain way. That there are a limited number of roles I can fill in life and that the highest praise I can ever get will always end with the words, “for a girl.” While I have learned that the real world has a little more to offer, a part of me can never shake these feelings that have lingered in me since childhood. Representation of women in film is severely lacking when compared to what we see of men. Positive representations are even fewer and farther between. The Geena Davis Institute of Gender in Media has undertaken several studies to analyse the inequality that currently exists in the film industry. The results offer a clear explanation for the way women, including myself, feel about their position in the world. In an analysis of Family Films, it was revealed that only 13% of films featured a balanced or slightly female centric cast. This means that growing up, young women have very little opportunity to find and relate to characters on screen. To add to this, even within this lack of representation, it has been found that female characters are far more likely to be hypersexualised and valued for their beauty than male characters. While R-rated films emphasised thinness in its female characters, G-rated films heavily featured women with tiny waists and unrealistic body types. In the same study of family films, it was found that only 20.3% of female characters were employed while male characters occupied 79.7% of all jobs. This means that women of all ages are constantly being fed ideas about what they should look like and what professional roles they can fill in an ideal world. However, my ideal world looks a lot different. In today’s world, films that feature a predominantly female cast or a female director garner a heavy amount of praise for their inclusivity and equality. Featuring a woman of size 12 is considered revolutionary and a diverse cast is deemed extraordinary. However, while this is well deserved, films that do not offer this are not chastised. When watching a film, the average audience member does not bat an eyelid when the credits roll and only one female name appears for every ten males. For this is the norm. We have grown to accept and even expect this so much that when a film strays from this and goes out of its way to embrace equality, we are taken aback. But why should it be considered a feat in filmmaking to do something that should have been happening since the very beginning? I am not belittling the achievements of those who have embraced equality and diversity up until now, because in the current climate of the film industry it really is something to be proud of. However, in my dream world, every billboard and poster we see features one woman for every man. Every heroine is just as powerful as any hero on screen. Everybody tall or small, young or old, man or woman can see themselves represented on screen. I dream of a world where we do not commend films for achieving this because why should we expect anything less?
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By Eoin Robert Shortiss In the world we live in today, a surprising amount of information is conveyed through fictional television and film, whether it is a hospital drama trying to capture the symptoms of a certain disease or sci-fi film attempting to describe the insides of a supercomputer. Believe it or not, sometimes these portrayals fail to present the things they talk about accurately. As viewers, you cannot fully blame directors or actors for this, as they clearly do not have the time to study up on a full science for every single production they are involved in. That being said, it can create widespread misconceptions, as I believe it has with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD as it is more commonly known, is something that I have had the unfortunate experience of seeing affect someone I care about. I have watched it take apart all things secure in someone’s life, and leave them haunted by their worst fears, forcing them to do physically and mentally strenuous rituals to keep those fears away. Left untreated, it can be very damaging, and leave someone plagued with crippling fear and anxiety on an everyday basis. After witnessing it affect someone I know personally, I gathered my own horrific definition, and assumed that was how the rest of the world saw it. I quickly learned, however, that to the outside world OCD was not the big scary disorder that I thought it was. Rather, it was used as an adjective to describe a disposition to be neat, as in, “I’m so OCD about open doors,” or, “I’m really OCD when it comes to cleaning my bedroom.” I am not at all bothered by the usage of it this way--I actually find it kind of fun. What I am curious about, however, is seeing how it originated, and seeing how film and television have reinforced these narratives in the past. To do this, I will analyse several examples of film and TV that portray characters confirmed to have the disorder, and see if they are in fact closely linked to the common perceptions the public have of the disorder. These stereotypes are what I have gathered to be the public’s interpretation of someone with OCD: a good, righteous person who is content when they are impeccably neat and tidy, has a habit of doing several actions multiple times, and are terrified of disorganisation or messes, particularly germs. To clarify, I am not intending to offend anyone with the disorder in writing this, nor am I claiming any of the portrayals in my examples are entirely incorrect--OCD manifests itself differently in everyone. I simply wish to examine how films may have had a hand in creating the general misconception that all manifestations appear in mostly the same way. The first portrayal I will tackle is arguably the most standout of all the examples I will list in terms of popularity. This is, of course, the TV show Monk. Monk is a TV show that I can vividly remember watching growing up. It revolves around a man named Adrian Monk (commonly referred to as Monk) with a strong form of OCD working for the San Francisco Police Department on murder cases. As this is a long TV show, boasting many seasons, I just viewed the first two episodes as I figured this would be where the vast majority of setup for the character would take place. It seems I was right, as these episodes had more than enough detail to allow an analysis. Though I believe Monk leans far too heavily towards stereotypes, it still has some positives that need to be noted. The most unique part of this portrayal is in how it makes reference to triggers for OCD that can worsen the disorder for those who have it. It is made clear in the first episode that the protagonist had his OCD become far more problematic after the sudden death of his wife. This is accurate, as the death of a loved one can indeed be a trigger that brings out more severe OCD, along with many other stressful or traumatic events. OCD is also shown as serious in Monk, in how the viewer learns that it has cost the protagonist his job working for the police. This is a very good aspect of the show, as it shows the potential for OCD to be disruptive to someone’s life, which is often not expected of it. I also appreciate how Monk’s OCD causes him to stand out in public in some scenes, as happens to many people with the disorder who are forced to do their rituals in public. The most humorous example of this when Monk attends a reading for children at a library to question a woman who is connected to his murder case. Monk dramatically interrupts this reading due to his disgust of witnessing a child pick his nose, clearly triggering his fear of messes and/or germs. A piece from the first scene of the first episode touches on another unique aspect of OCD, which has earned it the title of “The Doubting Disease.” Sufferers of OCD tend to be more prone to doubt, most often about aspects of themselves. Monk is investigating a crime scene, and finds himself doubting that the stove in his house was turned off properly. He is reassured by his carer that the stove is, in fact, off, but he is still fixated on the thought and this doubt distracts him from staying fully focused on the job at hand. I find it very innovative that the show added this, whether it was intentional or not. Monk could be seen as the worst of all my examples for showing the stereotypical manifestations of OCD, however. Monk loves cleaning, organising, and is terrified of germs. He enjoys symmetry and things being neat as well. As far as the rituals he does to try and manage his OCD, these episodes show them as primarily being touching objects repeatedly. This is actually one of the rituals that I personally have seen, so obviously there is some accuracy to this manifestation. However, as the scope of possible rituals is infinite, and as I have seen this ritual several times before on screens, this show choosing to display this ritual is no way innovative or new. From what I have seen of the show, there is absolutely nothing new in terms of OCD’s manifestation that hasn’t been seen before, which greatly impacts my opinion of its portrayal overall. Though not awful, the form of OCD shown in Monk certainly falls short in displaying any of the physical elements of the disorder, and therefore can be seen as feeding into the general stereotype. As Good As It Gets (James L. Brooks, 1997) is a movie that revolves around several characters, each with their own story and struggles. One of these characters, Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson) is a famous author diagnosed with OCD, who lives a mostly isolated life in his apartment. As far as the positives seen in this portrayal of the disorder, the best aspect of it by far is how Melvin’s OCD is made take a backseat to the narrative. When compared to other works where OCD is displayed, a large portion of the story, if not the entire story itself, is focused on how that character deals and learns to cope with living with the disorder. By making OCD appear as just another feature of Melvin, I believe it captures what it’s like for those forced to live with the disorder. It is not at the forefront of their minds all the time, but rather it is something that they just deal with, as everyone else does their own burdens. On top of this, Melvin is made out time and time again to be an incredibly rude and inconsiderate man, disposing of the “virtuous do-gooder” stereotype I mentioned before. However, though these representations go against the misconceptions of the public, Melvin’s rituals to keep the OCD in check most certainly do not. His perfectly organised medicine cabinet fulfils the organisation stereotype, all the while his excessive hand washing habits perfectly capture the paralysing fear of germs people with OCD are believed to have. We also see him repeating various actions multiple times, in him locking and unlocking the door and turning on and off the lights, which is again another stereotypical ritual. As far as originality goes for showcasing rituals, they seem to have used every stereotype they could find. In reality however, the rituals that people do because of OCD stem from fears. A ritual could be any action at all, it all depends on what someone is afraid of. For example, Melvin locking the door multiple times could be a sign of him being afraid of someone breaking in because he did not lock the door properly. Melvin’s rituals, though very possible for people with OCD, fail to showcase the element of fear involved and seem more like uninspired stereotypes rather than attempting to show the potential for variety with these rituals. Matchstick Men (Ridley Scott, 2003) tells the tale of a professional con-man, Roy Waller (Nicholas Cage), whose life is turned upside-down when he discovers he has a teenage daughter named Angela (Alison Lohman), who is eager to become a part of his life. Roy suffers from OCD, and watching him juggle his obsessive behaviour while keeping up his dishonest profession is a fascinating dynamic in this film. The portrayal of OCD is this film is strong in multiple aspects. Firstly, Roy’s OCD is shown as actually being problematic to him. It gets in the way of his job, it is annoyingly time consuming, and the movie is very clear in showing the amount of distress it brings with it. Roy is a very good example of someone who actually suffers from the disorder, which is exactly what happens to those unfortunate enough to be diagnosed. OCD can easily be perceived as beneficial, what with all you see about being very hygienic and incredibly organised, but it is rare that the condition itself is viewed as such by someone who has it. I also praise Matchstick Men for being creative in how the disorder manifests itself in Roy. Multiple times throughout the film, when someone swears in front of Roy, it visibly bothers him, and he requests that they stop using that kind of language. Though this is a vague detail, I believe it is intentionally made to look out of place, given that Roy himself is a con artist who should at the very least be used to this kind of talk. I believe his irrational dislike to these words stems from OCD. Though it is impossible tell for sure, all of the fears and thoughts that come from OCD are naturally irrational, and Roy’s hatred for bad language could very well be one of them. I also have to give the movie credit for being the first example of OCD on a screen I have seen that managed to accurately show obsessive thinking, a huge part of the disorder for anyone who suffers from it. Someone with an obsessive compulsive mind can frequently get stuck on a thought, particularly one which cause pain or discomfort, and can dwell on it in a process often referred to as ruminating. When talking to a therapist about his OCD, Roy manages to verbally communicate one of these obsessional loops his mind went on when cleaning his carpet. His thought process ends exactly where it began, causing an eternal loop that perfectly demonstrates ruminating in a mind with OCD. As good a job as this film did with capturing the disorder, the usual tropes sadly remain. Roy is impeccably organised, as seen when his daughter goes through his house, and finds every item stored away neatly. On top of this, he demonstrates the usual fear of germs in his excessive stockpile of disinfectants, and his extreme cleaning sprees. Matchstick Men is more adventurous in showing Roy’s OCD, and I feel it certainly pays off in terms of realism, capturing what most depictions don’t even come close to. That being said, it still relies on the ‘old reliables’ of cleaning and organisation to get its message across. All other aspects of the disorder that I pinpointed, such as the ruminating and his dislike of swearing, could easily go unnoticed to a regular viewer. All in all, though innovative, the unseen elements of OCD they showed took a backseat to the stereotypes in this film, which I only managed to notice after specifically looking for them, and this really leaves their portrayal not much better than your average stereotypical view. Scrubs (NBC-ABC, 2001-2010), a hospital comedy which I hold in incredibly high regard, also made an attempt to portray OCD in its episode, “My Catalyst.” In this episode a visiting professor, Dr. Kevin Casey, arrives at the hospital: a man who has both specialties of a medical attending and surgeon, all while suffering from pretty severe OCD. All things considered, this was a very good portrayal of the disorder. The first thing that really stood out was the attempt it made to show what all the previous examples I have discussed failed to grasp: rituals. Upon introducing the character, he is immediately attempting, and failing, to complete one of his rituals, chastising himself in saying, “How hard can it be for me to step in here left foot first and simultaneously exhale as my right foot plants?” This immediately shows the complications that are often associated with these rituals. He is not washing his hands, or closing a door, but rather walking into a building. By doing this ritual, though a fear may not necessarily be the driving force behind it, he may simply be doing it to make the action “feel right.” Why doing it a certain way makes it “right” is unexplainable even for those with the disorder, but regardless, it is certainly innovative that they showed this aspect of rituals in particular. The frustration he shows towards himself is again creative for a portrayal, as this is often the case for someone who can’t complete their rituals correctly, getting them stuck, often on a simple errand. This is most evident at the end of the piece, where he finds himself washing his hands repeatedly post-surgery, with nothing but rage being shown at how he just cannot seem to stop doing it. This example of OCD is also innovative in how Dr. Casey refers to obtaining his talents as a doctor, by doing all of his studies “over and over.” Though this is another reference to a repeated action, a stereotype I have faulted before. I have never seen it be applied to reading or work related activities in any manifestation yet, so this is certainly unique. For negatives, the condition finds itself steering into a few stereotypes. One of these is in the usage of a few standard rituals, in him washing his hands or turning the light switch on and off, but as I have previously stated, these rituals are entirely possible; the only problem is that this depiction reinforces the idea that this is common among all people with the disorder. The bigger problem with this portrayal however is in the way the disorder is treated as an advantage. Granted, what Dr. Casey refers to is entirely possible: being forced to do the same study repeatedly as you find it very difficult to stop, thereby forcing you to learn the material well. What this fails to capture, however, is how problematic this behaviour would have been in reality. If he found himself spending all of his spare time re-reading the same few pages of his textbooks, he would have had no time for any other work of his, not to mention any breaks, or even the slightest hint of a social life. Painting the disorder in this light adds to the idea that it can be beneficial to those who have it, which many people who suffer from it would disagree with vehemently. Overall, this portrayal was very well executed and innovative, but in painting the disorder in a positive light, it reinforces one of the most inaccurate stereotypes, wounding its realism a considerable amount. From what I have examined, it is clear that the public’s perception of OCD and how it is portrayed in film and TV are at the very least closely connected. I believe that if TV and film were not the original creator of the stereotype, it certainly is vital in keeping it alive. Painting the disorder the way it is portrayed today, as something that turns people into “neat freaks,” though harmless on the surface, could lead to it being passed off by the public as something minor and inconsequential. I do also believe however that it being repeatedly added to narratives is something that is raising awareness of its existence as a disorder, which should help educate those who think it is nothing more than what I described in my opening. I hope that these depictions grow more accurate as time passes, and are one day able to properly capture what it means to live with the disorder.
By Eoin Robert Shortiss In my mind, the perfect film industry revolves around one thing: ideas. They can come from anyone, and I believe they have the ability to change people’s lives forever. Film is one of the best and most approachable mediums to convey these ideas to people. I believe the perfect film industry is one that is fueled by many different perspectives, and which allows the most powerful and meaningful ideas to be expressed freely.
My first ideal image of film industry is one where those behind the creation of films are appropriately protected by freedom of speech. In a world where there is seemingly an ever-growing “outrage culture” on the internet, any form of artistic expression that strays from the norm could be seen as controversial or offensive towards some group. This attitude is one that greatly stains the art of filmmaking. Creativity is infinite, and with it comes infinite concepts and ideas that can inspire or change the lives of thousands. Nobody should stifle this creativity for fear of certain films causing disturbance among the public. We have seen time and time again the effect film has on society, my favourite example being the major increase in navy recruitment sign-ups after the film Top Gun (1986) was released. The right film could change the minds of millions for the better. We cannot afford to let anything stand in the way of this. Freedom of speech is invaluable. The second aspect of my ideal film industry would be one that has widespread equality. Of course, a non-discriminatory system which allows a large variety of people from different communities, with varying religious beliefs, etc. would be amazing. Firstly, this would promote equal opportunities for all, as well as inspiring and educating many on the similarities between people, no matter what their background. More important, however, is that it expands the scope of ideas being poured into the film industry. Any oppressed or impoverished group in this world are those who have not yet had the opportunity to express their ideas appropriately are perhaps the ones that need access to the film industry the most. They have messages that have not been heard yet. The more brains we have behind creating different forms of art through film, the more the film industry will be able to intrigue and inspire people all over the world for the better. Finally, I believe the ideal film industry would be one that fully allows the arts to thrive without limits. As I have already said, I truly believe the right idea can change the world. A film industry that has more freedom in it would be the most efficient way of allowing ideas such as these to take hold. There are many ways to do this, such as having good quality of equipment be more affordable for new filmmakers, and making it simpler for films that simply cannot get equal publicity to be seen by the public. I would also like it to be easier and cheaper for filmmakers to get permission to film on the locations they decide on. A film industry with less limits on those working in it is one that would surely flourish more than it already is. By John Finbarr McGarr The film industry is, after all, an industry; meaning its top priority is to make money. Without money, Hollywood would not exist. So, the most sure-fire way of making a profit is to market films that have been proven to be popular with audiences. This comes in the form of sequels, casting popular actors and reboots of old franchises.
But none of these techniques are as shameless and transparent as the remake-- taking a pre-existing movie and just making it again. Reboots do not cross the same line as remakes, as they somewhat act as sequels, in the hope of restarting the franchise. Remakes, on the other hand, act as though the original is irrelevant, and that the world needs a newer, more updated version. The biggest offender at the moment is Disney, since it is now going through an “anti-renaissance” of remaking all of its old properties. All of their new remakes are huge step downs in quality from the original animated films. The over-reliance on CGI has resulted in characters that were once cut and lovable, becoming creepy and unnerving. Just compare the Robin Williams Genie to the Will Smith Genie. The cartoony style allowed the old Disney characters to be expressive and energetic, but the new 3-D CGI characters look like the antagonists from a horror film. Obviously, Disney knows that a brand new 2019 retelling of Aladdin (1992) is going to rake in much more money than if they just re-released the classic version. Another equally offensive trend at Hollywood is the English-language remake. Films like Oldboy (2003) have had the misfortune to have been remade for western audiences. Aside from being absolutely incompetent in terms of writing, directing and editing, the English 2013 remake of Oldboy acts as a barrier to foreign film. There is an entire world of film outside of Hollywood, and films like Oldboy act as gateways to introduce western audiences to foreign films, due to how accessible and appealing it is. The English language remake prevents this from happening by offering a more inferior alternative for western audiences to watch, just so that they do not have to read subtitles. However, being a remake does not make the film inherently bad. In the film The Thing From Another World (1951), the characters unite together in order to fight off the titular villain. However, in the remake, The Thing (1982), John Carpenter took the film in a new direction; by having the characters grow divided and lose their trust in one another, due to the Thing’s shapeshifting abilities. By doing this, he made a new story entirely and allowing audiences to have different viewing experiences when watching both films. Sometimes, being a remake enhances the film’s quality. It is rare for a director to remake their own film, but that didn’t stop Michael Haneke from remaking his German-language film Funny Games (1997), which acts a satire of modern horror films and the audiences that watch these movies. In Funny Games (2008), the same criticisms are made, but the fact that he remade it, shot-for-shot, adds to the critique of the lazy, workman-like process of the Hollywood horror industry. This makes the concept of remakes are a little more complicated than the simple idea of them bastardizing the original. It has been proven that Hollywood remakes can be of quality, with films like True Grit (2010), The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) and The Departed (2006), with the latter even winning the best picture award at the Academy Awards. But then the concept of a remake gets blurred with films like Heart of Darkness (1993) and The Revenant (2015). Heart of Darkness is based off of the 1899 novella of the same name, which was previously adapted into the more famous Apocalypse Now (1979). It could be argued that Heart of Darkness is a remake of Apocalypse Now, but another way to look at it is that Heart of Darkness is a re-adaptation of the source material. A similar problem arises with the story of Hugh Glass, whose story was adapted into Man in the Wilderness (1971), which was then adapted into a 2002 novel by Michael Punke, later being adapted into The Revenant (2015). Again, it could be argued that The Revenant is a remake of Man in the Wilderness, but another argument could be made that The Revenant is more of an adaptation of the novel. While Hollywood is trying its best to make as much profit as possible through remakes, there are many cases in which a remake proves to be of quality. Remakes can be seen as no different than the adaptation of books and television series into films. They should be thought less of a “copy and paste” job and more of a reinterpretation. While remakes can be offensive and shameless, with the right director and writer, a remake of a film can stand up to the original - the film industry needs to learn more from directors like; John Carpenter, Michael Haneke, the Coen Brothers, David Fincher and Martin Scorsese. By Kane Simon Geary O'Keeffe The explosion of Irish media representation in the last ten years is readily apparent. Just last year, Irish produced film The Favourite (2018) swept awards ceremonies. As well as that, Cartoon Saloon has become an internationally successful animation powerhouse. While this relatively recent rise in worldwide attention toward the Irish entertainment industry is more than welcome, it has also served to highlight some of the issues of representation that said industry faces in our country. With more eyes on our visual media than ever before, it has never been more important to focus on how we as a people are represented on screen to this international audience. Unfortunately, throughout the last ten years or so, the depictions of the Irish people in our own mainstream media have had a damaging effect on our image, as we are often relegated to roles such as criminals and other forms of ‘crook.’ These negative depictions of the Irish people, coupled with our tendencies to accentuate the portrayal of our negative stereotypes on screen, means that while we as a nation might certainly be on the rise with our presence on screens around the world, we are still far off from an ideal industry. Inclusivity is an extremely important part of portraying a nation’s people on screen. While it’s great to see many depictions of our working class on screen, since Love/Hate (2010-2014) became a huge hit at the beginning of the decade, the dominating image of Irish people on our screens has shifted to include a criminal element to that working class image. The depiction of the Irish as a criminal people has become more and more prominent in the years since Love/ Hate’s release. The success of Films and T.V shows such as The Young Offenders (2016), Cardboard Gangsters (2017), Michael Inside (2017), and Between The Canals (2010) have brought this damaging image of the Irish as a people who seem to take pride in a criminal identity into the spotlight. The fact that many of these are distributed internationally by Netflix only ensures that this starts to become the more prominent image of the Irish people in the minds of international viewers. Many if not all of these films and shows have predominantly Irish production crews, so it is even more unfortunate to see that this issue of representation is being perpetuated by ourselves. It may be an attempt from us as a country to break away from the ever popular image of the rural, devoutly religious villagers that still permeates our culture, but this extreme flip from one side of the coin to the other is having equally damaging effects on the depiction of ourselves as a people. Even characters in shows that have become international phenomena like Peaky Blinders and Mrs Brown’s Boys have included Irish characters that are defined by their willingness to commit crimes and live a less than desirable, and often illegal, lifestyle. If we are to grow as a people towards an ideal film industry in Ireland, it may be a good idea, as well as our own responsibility, to show modern international audiences that we are more than organised drug dealers and criminals, and instead strive to bring more facets of our proud and multi-layered culture to the screen. The issue with our own representations on screen does not end with our gravitation towards this prominent criminal image. The Irish as a people have faced issues in recent years with distancing ourselves away from the negative stereotypes that we are commonly associated with. The ever present Irish mammy, the fighting alcoholic (although the image of alcohol pretty much stretches across all depictions of the Irish), and the ‘Holy Joe.’ These stereotypes often cast us as a conservative nation, stuck in the past. However, as our recent referenda have shown, this is far from the case, as Ireland is often seen to be at the forefront of international social progress.
This position is not adequately shown on our screens, as our media tends to cling instead to these dated and damaging stereotypes. Mrs Brown’s Boys once again comes to mind as one of the more famous examples of this in practice. The controlling image of the ‘mammy’ forms the fulcrum around which the show revolves. Mrs Brown herself is problematic in that she represents a time of conforming to traditional gender roles that is best left in the past. Her supporting cast is equally problematic. Not only do we have Buster, who once again becomes the embodiment of this new ‘urban criminal’ type. We have the holier-than-thou ‘Father Damian’ and Mrs Brown’s own son Trevor, another priest. The show also relegates its only queer characters, Ruairi and Deano, to stock stereotypes whose only function is to be the butt of jokes, often in poor taste. Mrs Brown’s Boys is far from the only culprit here. Films produced in our own country, such as Grabbers (2012), in which Irish islanders can only keep hungry monsters at bay through consuming dangerous amounts of alcohol, and The Guard (2011), in which the central character, Brendan Gleason’s titular guard, declares that “racism is part of my culture,” continue to portray us in a less than desirable light. While at times, the utilisation of these damaging images is part of a comedic attempt at self parody, often it only serves to add to the depictions of problematic stereotypes that will continue to shape how international viewers perceive the Irish people. As part of the oncoming journey towards our ideal film industry, it is essential that we as a people become more aware of these negative stereotypes and controlling images, and instead take this opportunity to show our country and our people for what they are and will continue to be: a center for inclusion and social progress. I hope to see our screens become a place where Ireland is shown as an island firmly rooted in the future, instead of the past. By Maire Murphy Opening your eyes, you find yourself looking in the mirror. You blink, and your reflection mimics, you allow yourself to be as you are, and your reflection copies, without hesitation.
Turning on your screen, you catch a glimpse of your reflection again- except this time it looks slightly different; a little taller, nose minorly longer, no birthmark between the freckles on your cheek. But there it is, staring back at you; a version of yourself only separated from you in minor surface incontinuities, sharing your dreams, your values, the realities of your life; blinking with you, reflecting you. You can see yourself, you hear your voice speak to you, and to me, this is the ideal film industry. Without wanting to seem cliché, I truly believe there really is no end to the degree of power in representation. With the recent pushes towards a more diverse variety of character types in the film industry, we see a broader range of voices reaching larger audiences, sparking a conversation on representation, and what inherently makes good representation. Whilst these strides have been far larger recently than they have been historically, we still have so much further to go in accurately telling every story. In my ideal film industry, representation would not come in the form of a token character, thrown in to promote the modern, progressive views of the creator. It is not the character added to gain a show a positive media image, but rather the character that has been researched, the character you invest time into trying to represent accurately, a character speaking to the real people who see themselves in it. It is the character written by the people who feel its impact the most, or the character written by the person who has taken the time to learn how that character would act, free of stereotypes, full of life. Good representation is not about destroying everything about the modern film industry; it is about incorporating in more diverse voices, about allowing the space for new narratives. In my ideal film industry, the people recruited behind the scenes would be an accurate representation of a real society; allowing different voices to provide new understanding and perspective. When one begins to argue that the people who are likely to succeed in an industry are swayed to a certain demographic, people begin to put up walls of defense. It can make people who fit that demographic feel uncomfortable, because of their wishes and dreams of succeeding in the profession, or irked, because the media often blames the lack of off and on-screen representation on them. To criticise all in that demographic is to miss the point of representation: it is not about getting rid of those whom cultural and ethnic reasons have previously favoured, but opening up the discussion on how improvement could be made with better diversity behind the lens. With statistics from most national film boards, we see the progress we have made in increasing the range of stories that reach media attention, and in who is likely to get a position in the film industry. But we can also see how far we have to go in allowing more diverse representation, and the only way to move forward with this topic is to discuss it. Seeing oneself onscreen is an incredible and healing thing for so many, as they are finally able to see their reflection represented, their stories told, a space to grieve the hardships they share with the characters and to celebrate the obstacles overcome to get there. It can change how people view others; opening their eyes to new perspectives, and it can change how we view ourselves, allowing us the space to accept our differences as a positive thing. It is for these reasons that my ideal film industry is a place of equal opportunity for all. Representation is powerful, and necessary in creating the films of tomorrow. It redefines what it is to be normal, and what it is to be human, and paves a new future for storytelling. By Adam Barry Murphy In a perfect world…
There would be more opportunities for films that aren’t superheroes punching each other, And easier access for beginner filmmakers, Equal opportunities for people of all denominations, Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 play indefinitely in cinemas… …but this is not a perfect world. By Kane Simon Geary O'Keeffe As with almost all forms of art, film as a medium enables us to view how the world around us impacts the cultural products of any given time. From social changes to political agendas, film as art holds a mirror to many facets of society, both past and present. This mirror often allows us to look back on films that were shaped by the society of their time, permitting us to observe just how instrumental ideologies and politics are in moulding films as they are being produced. During a recent viewing of the action classic, Top Gun, I was startled to find just how poorly the film has aged as a result of it’s being a product of its time. More specifically, a direct product of president Ronald Reagan’s political and economic ideology. I was shocked to find the film, one so successful upon its release, to be one that has become, in my opinion, almost unwatchable to today’s audience. To further understand how such a highly talked about classic of action cinema has aged so poorly, I had to look back to the political climate in which the film came about. Released in the summer of 1986, Top Gun, directed by Tony Scott, was introduced to the world at the height of president Reagan’s eight year stretch as president. The America of the time was still very much engaged in a flag waving competition with Russia as a result of the ongoing Cold War. Reagan’s political ideology was one that carried with it a strong sense of patriotism, and belief in the power of the military. At the same time, his economic ideology was one that called for a sense of individualism, as long as that individualism also lined up with the beliefs of the government at that time. Each of these ideologies are exemplified perfectly within Top Gun, and can be seen most obviously as being personified by the central character, Maverick, played by a then 24 year old Tom Cruise. Maverick as a character stands for all that is good in Reagan’s America, and as such, the audience is taught to admire him. He is a handsome, charming, exciting fighter pilot. Also, he is patriotic as they come. Equally important, however, is the fact that Maverick is a rebel, not one to follow the rules. At first glance this may seem to instill a sense of individualism in the character, but upon further observation we can see that this sense of rebelliousness and arrogance in Maverick dissolves in the face of authority. This all sums up to make Maverick an archetype of Reagan’s ideal citizen. An individual, but one whose ideals line up with the beliefs and ideologies of their government. The influence of Reagan’s ideology in Top Gun is not only limited to its main character. It is also evident in the film’s imagery, and its use of semiotics to instill these ideals in the viewer. This is most easily identifiable during the film’s opening credit montage. Here the mise en scène consists of many elegant shots of aircraft taking off and being tended to by military personnel, who are shot in an equally graceful fashion. What is most notable about this sequence, however, is that all of these figures, as well as their planes, are presented in these opening shots are silhouettes. They are shown without distinguishing features. This is utilised to convey to the audience that these elegant personnel could be anybody. From the first four minutes, Top Gun is conveying to its audience the sense that “this could be you!” These shots also serve to highlight a sense of symbiosis between the person and their aircraft, further cementing these pro-military ideals. These pro-military ideals are not just limited to theory in regards to Top Gun. It is well-documented that this would become one of the first films to establish a military entertainment complex that is still very prevalent in today’s blockbuster landscape. This complex works by means of providing inexpensive access to military resources for film productions. As a result of this, the military then gains considerable influence over that film’s script, ensuring the film aligns with government policies and does not paint either the military, or the pentagon, in a negative light. As explained definitively by Robert Anderson, the Navy’s Hollywood point person, to PBS in 2006: “If you want full cooperation from the Navy, we have a considerable amount of power, because it’s our ships, it’s our cooperation, and until the script is in a form that we can approve, then the production doesn’t go forward.” Top Gun remains a landmark example of this system at work. The production crew of the film was granted unrestricted access to aircraft for only 1.8 million dollars, a meager amount considering the multi million dollar budgets of blockbuster films, 15 million dollars in this specific case. In exchange for this, the military was given a weighty influence over the script, and as such, made many changes,cementing that the film would support the dominant patriotic, pro military, Reaganist ideology of the mid 1980s. One such change was in regards to Charlie Blackwood, played by Kelly McGillis. Her character, who eventually becomes Maverick’s love interest in the film, was originally written as an airforce officer. However, due to romantic relationships between military personnel being prohibited, she was rewritten at the request of said military and was instead introduced in the film as a civilian contractor to the Navy. Other changes include the switch of Goose’s death from a mid-air collision to an ejection sequence, as the navy were unhappy with the depiction of pilots crashing. The military entertainment complex not only ensured that Top Gun would become a more direct product of Reagan’s militarist politics, but it also established a relationship between Hollywood and the Pentagon that continues today, with their continued influence seen throughout the 21st century.This has resulted in the production of relatively few anti war films, and an abundance of blockbusters that glorify the military, with examples that include films such as Black Hawk Down, the Transformers franchise, and Zero Dark Thirty. Ultimately, these ideological factors lead to Top Gun becoming a huge financial success at the time of its release. With its depiction of Reaganist ideals, the film resonated with audiences who were living amongst these ideologies at the time and ultimately earned almost 357 million dollars worldwide, the equivalent to of 816 million dollars today. This significant box office haul would be in line with today’s major studio releases, such as the blockbusters released by Marvel Studios.
This financial success is notable as the film was not particularly well received by critics. During my viewing I found that it is not difficult to see why, with the film practically bursting at the seams with cliches and tropes, not to mention it’s frustrating overuse of Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” and Kenny Loggins’ “Highway To The Danger Zone” from the movie’s soundtrack. Ultimately, I found that the central cause of Top Gun’s failure to resonate with today’s audience is that we no longer live in the period of Reaganist ideology that permeated every layer of the film. The political landscape has experienced drastic changes in the decades since the film’s release. As such, the link between the film and its audience has become disjointed, hence, the film has aged poorly in the eyes of the modern audience who simply are not imbued with the same ideals as those who first watched this action staple. While I cannot remove Top Gun from the pantheon of classic Hollywood action films, I do think that a re-evaluation is in order, as where my parents may jump in excitement at the very mention of Mr Cruise’s “Need for Speed,” I will sit back, curling in fear of the next cringeworthy piece of dialogue, or the dreaded opening notes of “Take My Breath Away” as they come to take yet another two hours of my life to thirty year-old Reagan town. I just hope the planned sequel (once again starring Cruise, as he just….does not go away) does not subject itself to the same shortcomings that have tarnished the original since its days in theaters. By Kane Simon Geary O'Keeffe Stieg Larsson’s posthumously released crime novel The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo introduced readers to one of the most intriguing characters in modern fiction when it released Lisbeth Salander, goth superhacker, unto the masses. Her enigmatic personality pulled audiences through a wringer of violence and intrigue over the course of the book’s story. Fans did not have to wait long for two major film adaptations to follow closely behind Salander’s blood soaked trail: 2009’s depiction, directed by Niels Arden Oplev, and 2011’s version, brought to the screen by David Fincher. While the book’s narrative remains mostly intact across both cinematic adaptations, key changes and creative choices led to many of the story’s characters and themes taking on new shapes. In this piece I will take a closer look at Salander herself, and her relationship with our other protagonist, Mikael Blomkvist, from the two distinct viewpoints of Oplev and Fincher. I will be looking at how these directors, as well as the actors they worked with, created vastly different interpretations of key moments of the book’s plot, along with our tattooed protagonist. I also intend to observe how the variations between these key moments in these two versions of the story explore the book’s feminist themes, such as empowerment through violence, in ways that help to form three very distinct works of fictions, all within the same envelope of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It can easily be argued that the characters of Larsson’s novel greatly outshine its story. The complex characters of Blomkvist and Salander flourish amidst the backdrop of a relatively by the numbers ‘whodunnit’ case. This is a testament to the strength of these personalities and their relationship with each other. This relationship is a key example of how elements of character can be lost or warped upon translation to the big screen. The blueprint of Blomkvist and Salander’s strangers-turned-colleagues-turned-lovers relationship remains concrete between Oplev and Fincher’s takes on the text. However, the distinctions between the two serve to form very different interpretations of our titular anti heroine. Larsson notes Salander’s distant approach to her relationships towards others, stating that she has an “attitude [that] encouraged neither trust nor friendship” (p.45) This note plays heavily in Fincher’s remake. Rooney Mara brings to life a woman trapped in her own web: before we meet her she has no personal relationships outside of her male guardian, the only man she feels safe around. This is notable in that, despite their supposedly close friendship, their interactions are limited to chess games, a game based on methodical thinking alone, leaving no room for bonds outside of the mind. This completely detached depiction of Salander extends to her blossoming relationship with Blomkvist. Despite Blomkvist’s respect for her privacy and his admiration towards her, such as when he states ‘I’d be overjoyed if my memory was what yours is’ (p.390) their relationship remains purely sexual. Her stoic, hardened character pulls the audience into seeing her as nothing short of badass as she exacts revenge on the crooked men that find their way into her life. This can be seen in the the violent degradation of her second guardian and rapist, Bjurman. Bjurman is everything Salander has fought against during the course of her entire lifetime, a man of power who sadistically abuses his status to manipulate and abuse women. Salander’s bloody revenge against the man that savagely raped her allows Fincher to establish her as an unrelenting symbol of empowerment through violence. Mara’s Salander is purely methodical--she rarely shows even a slight sign of weakness in her steel gaze across the almost 3 hour film. We never hear her say how she’s feeling, and this contributes to the enigma that makes this portrayal so endearing. The same cannot be said for the character seen in Oplevs’ version, famously brought to life by Noomi Rapace. Rapace’s salander is far less mysterious, and as a result, far less powerful on screen. She gives up this power as she openly discusses her feelings at certain moments. This can be seen when she admits her feelings for Blomkvist to her mother, seen when she acknowledges that “there is someone” that she has feelings for. This open conversation about her feelings later extends to a public display of affection, in the form of a kiss between her and her colleague-turned-lover in their last encounter, which leads to her running in embarrassment. This serves to draw the audience away from her hardened, violent demeanour. We immediately see her as young girl, embarrassed at the thought of falling for the successful, womanising older man. Not only is this a classic trope of ‘lesser’ genres, such as the romantic comedy, but it damages the notion of her ever becoming a force for female empowerment. She falls in love with the very same kind of man that brutally took advantage of her in the past. These actions significantly dampen her acts of strength, such as when she exacts revenge on Bjurman, and serves to paint a much less powerful character. A young girl who, while more human, fails to become the strong concrete example of radical empowerment that is her American counterpart. The definitive moment that solidifies this distinction between Mara and Rapace occurs during the final moments of Fincher’s film. Fincher decides that Salander is at her most potent when she is saying nothing at all. He chooses to convey her inner turmoils and feelings through subtle but meaningful actions, keeping her stoic demeanour intact while humanizing her. In his film’s last scene, we watch Salander as she prepares to surprise Blomkvist with a gift. As she buys him said gift, the shop worker notes that Blomkvist must be a good ‘friend.’ Just a few minutes later, Salander drives to Blomkvist’s home, watching from a distance as she discovers him walking away with another woman. Salander then proceeds to toss the gift into a skip, before driving away as if nothing happened. This small action allows Fincher to define many aspects of her character, all while creating a wholly satisfying ending. The tossing of the gift into the skip reveals to the audience that Salander does in fact harbour feelings for this man. It allows us to see that she can be hurt like any other woman can. Simultaneously, Fincher’s direction shows us that his Salander is not somebody who will ever become a victim again. Her nonchalantly tossing her gift, as well as her feelings, away at the mere prospect of being emotionally hurt by Blomvkist satisfyingly leaves us with a character that, while human, stays true to the strong, no nonsense persona that we find so enticing as an audience.
Fincher and Oplev both take creative liberties in regards to the various subplots and relationships. In particular, the presence of two of Blomkvist’s love interests, Cecilia Vanger and and Erika Berger. It is easy to see that both directors wanted to keep the light on Salander, even if that meant blurring other noteworthy female characters into the background. Fincher is less to blame for this, as he does bring Robin Wright Penn’s talents in to portray Erika in his version, allowing the audience to have a glimpse at her decisive and authoritative role as Millenium Magazine’s editor, albeit in a limited role. Meanwhile, neither character is present for more than a quick glimpse in the Swedish adaptation. While at first glance, both movies appear to be stylistically similar, upon a deeper examination it is easy to see the drastically different approaches each of the filmmakers have taken in regards to their productions. This is particularly evident in the soundtracks of these adaptations. Fincher brings back Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, his award winning collaborators from The Social Network (2014) to compose his film. The result is a dense, three hour long tracklist brimming with industrial synths and creepy synthetic tones. Reznor, known for creating complex electronic soundscapes with his band, Nine Inch Nails, manages to wrap many of the story’s thematic beats in his work. This can be seen in tracks such as “An Itch,” which captures the distorted moans and screams of women, buried under intense percussion. This can also be observed in his industrial rock cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” as he utilizes a wailing female vocalist, Karen O, while also shrouding her screams in blasts of techno and distorted guitar, leading the listener through a battle of a voice aching to be heard amidst the dominating sonic backdrop of Reznor’s design. Jacob Groth, composer of Oplev’s film, takes a much more traditional approach to his composition. The track “For Harriet” utilises orchestral layers and strings to create a cathartically positive swell, as Groth attempts to convey the film’s theme of familial strength over time. His spare use of electronic instrumentation works well for creating moments of tension when needed, but overall it pales in comparison to Reznor’s artfully dense score, and fails at capturing the film’s more central themes in the way that is present in the American film. It has been shown, therefore, that while both the Swedish and American adaptations of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo seem woefully similar on the surface, many of the subtle differences present in each visual representation conjure up dramatically different renditions of The titular character, and as a result tackle the idea of female empowerment through violence in radically different ways. I find that Fincher better conveys Salander as a concrete example of this idea, through both her own actions and her relationship with Blomkvist. In contrast, Oplev’s film features a Salander that undermines her own empowering revenge quest by falling into the role of a lovelorn and embarrassed young girl. Neglect of female side characters and plots are also present across both adaptations. Overall I consider Fincher’s film the superior work as he better represented the core facets of Lisbeth’s character and relationships as presented in Larsson’s book, as well as more consistently depicting the story’s key feminist themes. |
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