Thursday, November 12, 2009

The Cutting Room Floor



The most recent film we have screened in class was "Pantaleon y Las Visitadores" directed by Francisco Lombardi and adapted from Mario Vargas Llosa's novel of the same title. I found the film to be entertaining. It was enjoyable although it seemed to shy away from the meat of the story, such as the political implications or the religious commentary, and eventually ended up focusing primarily on Pantoja's affair, making the second half of the movie far less enjoyable than the first. In my opinion, Columbiana's character, portrayed by soap opera actress Angie Cepeda, contributed to the deterioration of the film. Despite her insistence that there was more to her than Pantoja knew, her character seemed rather one-dimensional. She played the role of a sexually unexhausted "visitor" far more convincingly than she played her poignant moments, and while this helped preserve the light and humorous tone of the film, it was difficult for the audience to connect to her on any deeper level. Ultimately this made her death upsetting only because of the ramifications we knew it would have on Pantoja and not because we felt truly heartbroken over her untimely passing.


Something we haven't discussed much in class is the role that editing plays while comparing a novel to its adapted film. (By this I mean editing as in what footage ends up on the cutting room floor as opposed to the parts of the novel that aren't included in the script.) It hadn't occurred to me that there might be a longer version of the film in existence, however it was mentioned in class that there was a version that bordered on almost 3 hours or so. As mentioned in the similarly titled fatherblog "Screening The Latin American Novel,"  (http://screeningthelatinamericannovel.blogspot.com/) a 231 minute version cut entire scenes. One of these was a scene in which the women impregnated by the soldiers that raped them approach the army official and discuss marriage. He writes, "the need for the service is brought in a somewhat humorous but still more pointed manner." I completely agree with this statement.


It seems as though the editor chose parts of the film that he felt would appeal to a mainstream audience, such as the sexually suggestive or explicit scenes, and sacrificed parts of the film that would have added depth and clarity to the finished production. Finding a balance between the two is crucial to the success of any film and while almost every audience revels in sexuality in cinema, (whether they are offended or enthralled, sex sells..)I think it would have been possible to find a stronger combination of the two.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

A Special Take on the Special Service



I really enjoyed our in class discussion on the reading of Captain Pantoja and the Special Service by Mario Vargas Llosa. In disecting the novel, a comedic telling of the strange adventures of Captain Pantoja as he attempts to establish a prostitution ring to satiate sexual desires of the armed forces in the seemingly aphrodisiac Amazon jungle, the question of whether or not the story contains mysogonistic underones was posed. I found this particularly interesting because during my reading of the novel this thought had not even occurred to me.
In many ways it is a perfectly logical conclusion to arrive at. The women in Captain Pantoja's life consist of a wife and a mother, both of which are hardly sympathetic characters, and the prostitutes, who, obviously, are there to serve a singular purpose. It is understandable that many of my classmates felt that Mario Vargas Llosa was writing from a misogynistic point of view.
It is difficult for me to explain why I disagreed with this take on the novel because my reasons are more subtle than they are concrete and revolve primarily around the way in which I interpreted the story. The first thought that came to mind was that if the story had been less misogynistic, it would have been unsuccessful. In any story that involves the prostitution of women has the potential to be interpreted as being degrading towards women if only due to the nature of the business and, frankly, there would be no story without prostitution. Then I considered the roles of the mother and wife figures. If they were made out to be sympathetic characters the story would have been completely different and could not have possibly been a comedy.
Consider the alternative plotline:
Army men have been raping women and in a misinformed attempt to control them, prostitution is implemented. All of this is, of course, fully condoned by the army officials, however the operation must be secret and Captain Pantoja is left responsible. He stuggles to keep the true nature of his work a secret from those he loves most and gives his life to serve the army only to discover that he is ulatmately left utterly alone.
Obviously, a storyline that is not mysogonistic would not convey the humor and light-hearted nature that makes this novel such an enjoyable read. To say that this story expressed mysogynisitc views is to avert one's focus from (what I believe) was the author's intentions.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

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.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

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.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

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.

Friday, October 2, 2009

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.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Thoughts on "Tema del Traidor y del Heroe" by Jorge Luis Borges

Not unlike the narrator in Cortazar's Blowup, the narrator of "The Theme of the Traitor and the Hero"  feels the need to justify his telling of the story. Also similar to Cortazar's narrator, Borges' narrator's justification serves as a sort of validation of self. "The Theme of the Traitor and the Hero" illustrates Ryan's discovery of the secret truth behind his great-grandfather's assassination as he prepares to write his biography. His great-grandfather, Fergus Kilpatrick, was "a secret and glorious captain of conspirators...who perished on the eve of the glorious revolt which he had premeditated and dreamt of." The reader quickly learns the odd details behind Kilpatrick's untimely death: the conspirator was murdered in a theatre by a killer who has remained anonymous, in his pocket an envelope was found, still sealed, and in it, a letter warning Kilpatrick of his impending assassination, a mirror of the circumstances surrounding the death of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. To Ryan, these details reveal a "secret form of time" in which a sort of transmigration of souls has occurred. "Before having been Fergus Kilpatrick, Fergus Kilpatrick was Julius Caesar," Ryan suggests. Caught in a labyrinth of unanswered questions, Ryan finds his research has reached a standstill. "That history should have copied history was already sufficiently astonishing; that history should copy literature was inconceivable," he observes.

His investigation moves forward only after he comes upon a beggar who spoke with Kilpatrick on the day of his death and who uncharacteristically quotes "Macbeth." As history begins to unravel, Ryan learns that Kilpatrick had charged a co-conspirator James Nolan with the responsibility of finding a suspected traitor. Nolan later announces Kilpatrick as the traitor, presenting "irrefutable proof," and Kilpatrick is sentenced to death. Understanding the importance of Kilpatrick's image as a political leader, Nolan decides to take advantage of the situation by staging the death to appear as though his death was, in fact, committed by the government in response to his part in the revolution- a plan which Kilpatrick agreed to. His entire death was staged and went down in history just as Nolan had planned it. After uncovering this startling truth, Ryan is faced with the option of exposing his great-grandfather's story for what it was, though ultimately he decides to keep his heroic image intact and instead publishes a biography that agrees with Ireland's idolization of him.

Yet another story about truth versus perceived truth, I found this short story to be more interesting and certainly more cohesive (though the poor translation of Blowup probably accounts for that) than the last. I was immediately struck by the oddity of Kilpatrick indicting himself. The only explanation that I could come up with was the Kilpartick had planned it, not a difficult conclusion to come to, however I began to question the extent of Kilpatrick's foresight in the matter. So it seems that Kilpatrick chose James, knowing that he was capable of discovering, and revealing, him as the traitor. But what of the "irrefutable evidence?"

If Kilpatrick was truly the mastermind behind this, he must have planted the evidence himself, which means that he had to have had the foresight to predict that Nolan would uncover it, then condemn him to death and that Nolan would have the intellect and understanding to use Kilpatrick's death as political leverage to further the revolution. How plausible is this, I wonder. And was Nolan's literary inspiration a helpful coincidence? Or did Kilpatrick have the foreknowledge that Nolan was translating Julius Caesar? Could this have been what sparked the idea in the first place? Was it this play that taught him the power associated with this kind of death? I like to think of Kilpatrick as an all-knowing hero, who sacrificed himself for the country he loved. I think this is the end Ryan came to, as seen in his decision to preserve the heroic memory of his great grandfather forever.