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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.
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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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