Lovers At Every Table, Spies In Every Corner

I am currently enrolled in a class in which we study the famous collaborations that occurred between choreographers (Graham, Balanchine), artists (Picasso, Noguchi), designers (Chanel), dancers, and so on in dance history. Our class has spent a great deal of time focusing on the dynamics between those involved in the creation of a production, and perhaps this is why I feel so inclined to comment on the interesting collaboration that occurred between director Hector Babenco and writer Manuel Puig. "Kiss of the Spider Woman,"a multi-faceted novel about two men, Valentin, a dedicated political activist, Molina, a romantic homosexual, both forced to share the same jail cell, seemed to me an unlikely candidate for a film adaptation. It relies on literary tools to tell the story that could not be reproduced on film; for example, Puig has chosen to include a number of lengthy footnotes that would not be appropriate in a movie. In order to create a successful film from the story, it would be nesscesary to cut a number of elements, and so it does not surprise me that Puig was unhappy with the outcome of the adaptation. What does surprise me is his involvement in the film.

It is my understanding that traditionally most authors remain relatively uninvolved in the production process, however, as we discussed in class, Puig was actively involved. While the film was considered to be a success (it was the first independent movie nominated for an oscar and actor William Hurt, who played Molina, won best actor) Puig was openly dissatisfied with the outcome. He calls the film "a hodge podge without the slightest subtlty." I later learned that Hurt too was unhappy with Babenco and that actress Sonia Braga (Leni Lamaisa, Marta, Spider Woman) only accepted her role after he had agreed to expand it.

While it is nearly impossible to have a flawless collaboration between two individuals, let alone an entire cast, from what I have learned in my other class, it seems that the best productions are the result of fairly harmonious relationships. Yet here we have two headstrong individuals with discordant visions that were still able to create something successful. It is clear from Puig's statements that he feels his vision for the "Kiss of the Spider Woman" was not executed properly, which leads me to believe that while he certainly had a hand in the production process, the final say belonged to Babenco. It seems that while the book belonged to Puig, the film clearly belonged to Babenco.

Babenco must have had a great deal of respect for Puig, or at least his writing, to have chosen to create a film from his novel and Puig clearly had a vested interest in the adaptation, however this initial respect must have faded once the process began. I speculate that this dissagreement may have been rooted in the audiences Babenco and Puig are accustomed to targeting their material towards. As an author, Puig is used to writing for a well-informed, literate audience, while Babenco is used to the cinema crowd. It is clear through his lack of "subtlty" that Babenco relies on easily perceptible and sometimes obvious visuals, which no doubt directly clash with Puig's intended abiguity.

In my opinion, the film could have benifitted from a more balanced collaboration. I think this would have rid the movie from moments of over-explicitness, however in order to achieve this balance a mediating third party would have been nessicary and would have most likely further complicated the process.

Arachnophobia

There is much that can be said about Manuel Puig's novel Kiss Of The Spider Woman, so it is no surprise that our discussion in class last Friday was a fruitful one. Though many interesting opinions were brought to the discussion, there is one specific conversation that has stuck with me. For the majority of this novel, Molina, a homosexual window dresser, recounts different movies, some real, others of Molina's own invention, to his jail cell mate, Valentin. Our teacher asserted that perhaps the movie would have been stronger if instead of incorporating both real and invented movie plots, Puig had chosen to include all pre-existing films.

On the one hand, I feel that this choice could have been a strong one. It would have provided the reader with more points of reference, further allowing them to visualize the scenes he was describing. I can also understand how this choice could easily be perceived as less of a choice and more of the only option that was available to him. Because every film is a metaphor for Molina, Valentine, or the relationship and situation they share, it would have been easier for Puig to invent a film than to find one that perfectly matched the point he hoped to convey through that particular plot.

However, it is my belief that Puig's choice to include both kinds of movie plots in his novel was an conscious one and one that greatly benefited the story. By choosing to include both, Puig is taking Molina's character to new heights and giving his reader a more thorough understanding of his character. What motivates Molina? What kind of person does it take to be able to invent these plots? How does Molina navigate He poses both questions to his reader, imploring them to look deeper into Molina's core. Because Puig has managed to successfully create such a complex novel, I seriously doubt that he was not in control enough to ensure that every decision he made in this novel was a conscious one.

After Watching Memorias del Subdesarrollo

Having now seen Tomas Guiterrez's "Memories of Underdevelopment," I can now understand why it was this film that ushered in the new age of Cuban cinema. This 1968 film about a bourgeois intellectual alienated by the Cuban revolution is, by far, my favorite of all the movies we have screened in class. Its masterful mix of unusual documentary footage, still photographic images, and invasive filming methods are not only impressive from a visual standpoint, they catalog the complex contradictions of the protagonist's loyalty to the revolution and narrate the class divide in ways spoken narrative could not.

This is not to say that the spoken narrative, as told by Sergio, does not merrit equal praise. The stream of consciousness style manages to be cohesive while still maintaining an abstract quality. He begins his story by saying, "For years I wanted to find time to write or keep a diary. Have I anything to say?" The contradictory nature of this thought perfectly embodies Sergio as a character and immediately struck me as possessing some deeper meaning. Many of his thoughts have a conflicted nature about them. For example, he imangines baptizing Elena in a highly explicit way. He is visualizing a purifying ritual in a sexual manner, therefore corrupting it.

He lives in an untethered society, a monotonous "cardboard city" in which he struggles to identify with anything. He feels that he is developed man lost in an underdeveolped society. The idea of underdevelopment, as the title suggests, is clearly a driving force behind this film. Throughout the movie I found myself questioning to what extent this conflict of a developed individual vs. the underdeveloped population surrounding him was imagined. Was his isolation the result of his developed state or his inaction? The conclusion I came to by the end of the film was the latter of the two. It seemed to me that his inaction, the general apathy that the viewed the world around him was the reason for his departure from society. It is easy to see why he became intolerant of the world surrounding him. Povery was in abundance and the upper class was blissfully turning a blind eye. The infrastructure has become corrupt and is collapsing from within. However, despite Sergio's disapproval, he does nothing to change what he feels is unjust. In fact, he removes himself from that world completely, which, in its own way, is equally injust.

Getting Caught Up: "The Spider's Stratagem"

Today I found myself stranded at the Wilton, Connecticut train station for two hours. I had just nearly missed the train and was the only person left at the station. It was 5:45. The next train would be arriving at 9:30. After finishing the free real estate and parenting literature, fifteen minutes into my wait, I found myself staring blankly at the tracks which eventually triggered memories of our most recent in-class film, Bertolucci's "The Spider's Strategem." The specific scene playing in my head was the scene in which the main character discovers he is trapped in the maddening town of Tara. He sits alone at the station and observes the weeds that had grown over the tracks and realizes that he had been waiting for a train that would never come. A similar thought occurred to me.

I greatly enjoyed "The Spider's Stratagem." While I can't say I'm usually offended by a film's departure from its hypotext, I was pleased by Bertolucci's fidelity to The Theme of the Traitor and the Hero. Because of its narrative distance and brevity, I found Borges' story to be emotionally detached from Ryan. This, of course, was intentional and necessary in order to preserve the ambiguity of the story, however, I was delighted to see the story told from a more intimate perspective. I felt that despite the changes in location and historical background, he film helped bring a sense of clarity to the short story. A visually stunning piece of cinema, "The Spider's Stratagem” showcased Bertolucci's immense filmmaking capabilities. His images were captivating and while they possessed a traditional beauty, I thought his style was highly innovative.