Here are my thoughts on
some of the various elements that go into making and responding to a work of
art. First, we can cover what drives a narrative or what could be called a
narrative if we’re talking about a more pure art form such as music or
sculpture. Then we can delve into some specific elements that I want to talk
about. Hopefully, you have also thought about these things and will have
something to say in response.
Plot Driven
I’m not so sure there is such a thing as an
entirely plot-driven story. If you don’t care about the characters, or the
subject, then who cares what happens? We’ll get back to this very shortly.
Also, there is much to be said about the difference between linear and
non-linear narrative. But I’m not the one to say it.
Character Driven
One question which is very easy to ask when
watching a film or looking at any work of art is “Do we relate to it? Do we
identify with it or with certain elements in it?” Perhaps we relate to a
character because we recognize ourselves or perhaps we just sympathize because
the character is sympathetic, as one human to another. Perhaps the character is
just plain interesting for purely psychological or intellectual reasons, whether
we truly identify with them or not.
o Helium
– cute, unconditional love, innocence, round, small shape
o Meat Wad –
cute unconditional love, innocence, round, small shape
Is there a pattern here?
If Eyes Wide Shut fails, perhaps it is
because Tom Cruise’s character is not developed properly. I am unwilling to
assign blame to Kubrick. It is Tom Cruise’s fault. With his iconic looks and
impeccable personal hygiene, how could I possibly get beyond that?
The Usual Suspects was superficially
character driven, but ultimately not. The performances were memorable and
distinct—Benicio del Toro, William Baldwin, Kevin Spacey. But they were really
just caricatures that we cannot relate to on a deep, emotional level. And so it
is with most cartoons. Like Tarantino’s films. Story, action and mood drive the
narrative. But do you really care? Pete Postlelthwaite’s character was pretty
damn intriguing though I have to admit what with that indescribable accent and
all. Damn intriguing.
I would like to see a video game which allows
you to combine various characters from different films and watch them
interact. I would like to see Julia Roberts (her same character as all
her films) attempt to convince Humphrey Bogart that he should stay in an order
pizza. I would like to see other things.
Raw Emotion / Depth
I believe sometimes character identification
can be manifest in a more symbolic or universal way as opposed to a direct concern for specific characters. For example,
in Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love, human beings cannot connect
because they are unable to express themselves fully, perhaps because they are
repressed. Now be honest. Do you really feel so much for Tony Leung as you do
for just the situation itself? As I watch, my heart rather skips right past the
person on the screen and goes straight to grieving for all mankind. For my own
lost chances. Maggie Cheung suffers. Tony suffers. But we suffer the most
because we are totally robbed of seeing Maggie Cheung naked. No doubt,
characters are important in this film. But you could see both characters as
one, and representative of all who suffer. You need more, don’t you?
The Wild Bunch. Basically a story
about a group of men who could or would not change. And they were selfish, and
rotten. But ultimately they were able to redeem themselves as martyrs for a
larger cause. Again, we have the individual characters that drive the film. But
again, it’s more the underlying motives and stereotypes that we are really
responding to. Angel, the martyr for a good cause, right from the
beginning. Ernest Borgnine, the outlaw with a firm moral backbone (sort of half
way between Angel and the others), and then the others. Sure, we are
involved with the team and their actions, but we don’t truly identify with the
individual characters. It’s more what they represent. It’s more the
archetypical theme of how circumstances can lead men to transcend their own base
nature. By the end we are rather more excited
by the glory than concerned with their fate as individuals. At least
that’s how I see it.
Nature Driven
Sometimes artistic imagery seems rooted to
patterns in nature which perhaps appeal to us on a very subconscious level. The
number of petals on a flower, for example. This is kind of like the idea that
the Greeks did well to recognize certain natural patterns. The architecture of
Palladio, for instance. And why should we bother to build anything else? And
Homer. And so on. It’s all already been done. I think there is something to
this commonly repeated notion, but I will need help explaining it more fully. Probably
I will need more examples. Probably from Justin.
Chuang Tzu
and Hui Tzu were strolling along the dam of the
Hui Tzu said, “You’re not a fish—how do you know what fish enjoy?”
Chuang Tzu said, “You’re not I, so how do you know I don’t know what fish
enjoy?”
Hui Tzu said, “I’m not you, so I certainly don’t know what you know. On the other
hand, you’re certainly not a fish—so that still proves you don’t know what fish
enjoy!”
Chuang Tzu said, “Let’s go back to your original question, please. You asked me
how I know what fish enjoy—so you already knew I knew when you asked the
question. I know it by standing here beside the Hao.”
This idea of tapping into natural rhythms can
perhaps lead us to a discussion of the business of timing. Timing is nothing if
not the harnessing of subconscious rhythms, rooted in the biological or natural
makeup. The fact that you can appreciate music without even thinking about it.
That you can just know if it’s right or wrong, even if you’re an idiot or a
child. Pretty much proves it. We look to Road Runner for confirmation. The
timing of each fall. The timing of each gag. This is all the proof we need, to
know that when art taps into this current, art does well for itself.
“This would concord with the thesis of Benedetto Croce; already
Pater in 1877 had affirmed that all arts aspire to the state of music, which is
pure form. Music, states of happiness, mythology, faces belabored by time,
certain twilights and certain places try to tell us something, or have said
something we should not have missed, or are about to say something, or this
imminence of a revelation which does not occur is, perhaps, the aesthetic
phenomenon.” – JLB
The subconscious is smarter than people are
aware.
Coherence
The idea of coherence holds that nothing in a
work should be unrelated in any way. Everything should be related. Unrelated
parts are an opportunity cost. Anything which does not contribute to the
overall meaning of the work is merely a distraction and a
detraction.
Authenticity
Authenticity is related to the idea of
coherence in that if something is inauthentic it does not truly cohere to the
rest of the work, assuming there is at least some authenticity in it. For any
failure, it then becomes a question of how obvious or how contrived. Peter
Weir’s film The Last Wave (1979), for
example, spends a lot of time in atmospheric transition sequences from one
scene to another, such as when Richard Chamberlain drives his Volvo to the
weird and eerie music. Music which powerfully conveys the strange and ominous
weather patterns which haunt and shape the film’s narrative. That would be a
success. In Hitchcock’s The Trouble With
Harry (1955), the wonderful Bernard Herrmann score blankets everything in a
frisky Autumnal tone which perfectly suits Shirley McLain, John Forsythe’s and
basically the entire rest of the cast’s demeanour. Yes. And then we have
Coldplay popping up in Igby Goes Down
(2002) for no obvious reason other than it sounds groovy. Tacked on. The notion
of referentiality could also be discussed in the same way. Whether
or not it serves or does not serve the overall coherence of the work.
Originality
This is generally taken for granted to be a
desirable thing, but I feel that presumption should be challenged or at least
discussed. If an artist does something better than it’s ever been done before,
isn’t that worth more than doing something new and stupid. Nobody has ever
killed themselves by X method. Great. Have at it, genius. But seriously. Should
an artist who pioneers something new be praised unconditionally? Or is that
person merely fulfilling his role in an inevitable process of evolution—as
dictated by the circumstances? Sort of like filling in the blanks on a
timeline. If one person doesn't think of it, someone else will, if not today,
then tomorrow. This may be more relevant to concept-based art versus pure
expression of self. Or perhaps the way to look at is whether the artist is
trying to fit into the timeline, or influence a new direction in art or
something along those lines, instead of just doing what feels right, without
regard to the surrounding world. I think this issue ties in with the question
of whether a work of art can be fully appreciated with little or no context or
whether it requires a lot of explaining in order to excite the viewer. A little
explaining is okay. But a lot? In any case, I think it’s fair to say
originality is generally a positive thing from the audience’s perspective
because it provides a sense of awakening and avoids stagnation and boredom. I suspect it may
just be that simple.
Style vs. Content?
Okay this is a tough one. And perennial.
People will never stop loving to argue about this. Even now if you listen
carefully, you will hear the dulcet tones, of people
fighting over this one. I will try my best to shed some light, but I promise it
will be insufficient.
“Yes. My tastes and disgusts have influenced my ten-year long work
on Eugene Onegin. In translating its 5500 lines into English I had to decide
between rhyme and reason—and I chose reason.” – Nabokov
But let’s pretend Russians have nothing to
teach us, for just a second. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Lenny Bruce
or not, but I love listening to him talk. But more than one college professor
has argued that Bruce is not so much funny as he is proof that comedy is merely
timing and not truly humor. I personally think it depends. I think it is valid
to say comedy is a constructed artifice of timing, which can make you laugh
even at things which are not funny. But I also think some comedians really are
humorous. Woody Allen and Lenny Bruce are two examples. I think the way to make
the determination is whether you still find a joke funny after your initial
impulse to laugh has faded. And that doesn’t mean the jokes have to be funny
when written out. That’s as unfair as saying a
translated poem is no good. Because they are designed to be said with a certain
feeling and in a certain context. You would have to be able to read a joke and
grasp the humor as a musician might read a sheet of music. A highly specialized
ability. But even so, if you can laugh at the joke and on further reflection
feel neither used nor manipulated, then I say it was funny.
Imagination
For me personally, imagination is certainly
one of the most enjoyable and involving aspects of art. It draws me in. And I
don’t think one needs an overdeveloped sense of imagination either. I think
most times it’s fairly innate.
“If you give people nothingness, they can ponder what can be
achieved from that nothingness.” – Tadao Ando
“I don’t usually give out
advice or recipes, but you must let the person looking at the photograph go
some of the way to finishing it. You should offer them a seed that will grow
and open up their minds.” – Robert Doisneau, Paris 1987
Getting the audience to imagine. To fill in
the blanks. Horror movies are all about this. I feel the amount to
which you can make your audience imagine horror is more important than just
having a lot of suspense. Let’s talk about music.
o Radiohead – skipped note
o The Meters – skipped note
o Csokolom – skipped
note
An alternative rock band from the now, soul
funk from the 70s, and a modern day Hungarian quartet all have in common the
skillful use the skipped note.
Suspense
Sure, of course. It kind of relates to both
the idea of imagination and that of timing. But it doesn’t really have to fit
any natural pattern and you don’t really have to have much imagination to be
affected by it. I think everyone has a good conception of what suspense is.
It’s rather like a tactic in my view. It can be used justly or unjustly, as a
tool of manipulation. Or perhaps it’s just a matter of how much is too much. It
all depends. Maybe I’ll have something more intelligent to say about this another time.
Contrast
Contrast is an effective element in any work
of art. For one thing it gets your attention. It takes many forms. I don’t need
to explain what contrast is, I hope, other than to offer some examples for your
enjoyment. I will provide actual links for all of these at some point. One example
is the occurrence of humanity or civility in the face of inhumanity or chaos:
happens all the time in Kubrick where it is a source of satire, Dr. Strangelove, or bitter irony, Barry Lyndon, the flower plant in the
window in The Grand Illusion. In the
flash production Strindberg and Helium we have silly matched with over-the-top
melodrama. A winning combination. Torture and transcription in Terry Gilliam’s
The infusion of retro elements in a futuristic
setting fuels the emotional power of such films as Godard’s Alphaville, Kubrick’s 2001, Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner and David Lynch’s Dune. Donald Barthelme’s works abound with bona fide
anachronism and flagrant juxtaposition. My lord. It’s awesome. Hayao
Miyazaki? Yes. Black and white? In film and in photos. I never left it.
Artist’s Compendium: You can’t go
wrong if you do art based on these assumptions.
o
things change, but not that much
o
everyone has something to hide
o
nobody ever really grows up
April 2007
