21/11/2010

Avant-garde, or just plain bizarre?

Had to do a presentation this Monday gone all about avant-garde cinema which, I shall openly admit, has never appealed to me in the slightest, on account of it's sheer weirdness.  However, as one quarter of Group A (for awesome, duhhh), I thought that we should really make an effort on this one.  I mean, our last attempt was pretty shite, and it was for South's module.  I think he was suitably impressed - mainly by me, natch - so here's hoping you, dear readers, are equally mesmorised by my thoughts.  Feel free to comment on the contrary, I can take it.

What is 'Avant-garde'?

The term avant-garde is said to have originated in the late 15th century to mean 'vanguard' or 'advance guard', and was adopted by the arts at the beginning of the 1800s to signify innovation and experimentation.  The French Socialist thinker, Henri de Saint-Simon, was credited with first using the expression in this way (quelle surprise, it's always the French), as he believed that artists, along with industrialists and scientists, had the social power to lead society:


It is we, artists, who will serve you as avant garde: the power of the arts is in fact most immediate and most rapid: when we wish to spread new ideas among men, we inscribe them on marble or on canvas;... and in that way above all we exert an electric and victorious influence. (Saint-Simon, qtd. in Hobbs, 1997:4)
I'm now going to take a gigantic, TARDIS-like leap forward through time and space to the 1990s; when Spice Girls ruled the world, Furbies and Tamagotchis were IN (I never owned either), and a little chap called Michael O'Pray was writing about the British when Spice Girls ruled the world, Furbies and Tamagotchis were IN (I never owned either), and a little chap called Michael O'Pray was writing about the British avant-garde film in, funnily enough, The British Avant-Garde Film 1926 to 1995.  Now, O'Pray has done a little summary of all the decades, from the 1920s and 30s, to the 1980s, when the film, A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985); the focus of this 'ere blog post, was made.  For the purposes of this blog, the patience of its readers, and the willpower of its writer, I'm only gonna concentrate on the 1980s, but if you wish to know more, please cast your gaze over the reference list below. 

Ok, so O'Pray suggests that avant-garde cinema has always been used as a means of capturing and safeguarding snippets of everyday life, particularly by such 'minority' groups as: scientists, politicians, pornographers (minority?  Really?), and advertisers.  Thus, films belonging to the avant-garde movement are regularly influenced by the above marginal sections of society and, although censorship prevents unnaceptable material leaking into and affecting the flow of money that mainstream cinema accrues, this restraint has never been total.  Indeed, avant-garde films are generally made in opposition to the popular, and are often screened in churches, clubs and galleries; basically anywhere that isn't a cinema, so their, at times, contraversial content seems to duck below the radar. 
The link between avant-garde cinema and the other arts continues further, as many of its film-makers, such as Greenaway, Jarman and Brakhage, began their careers as art students, at a time when modernism was the dogs' danglies, and their films regularly addressed issues raised in painting.

In terms of the British avant-garde movement, centred around the London Film-makers' Co-operation (LFMC) the 1980s saw many influences and changes:

  • The impact of the women's, punk and Black independant film-making movements.
  • A new, younger breed of film-makers returning to an 'underground' ideal; the opposition and confrontation of the established ideologies of the older generation, like punk's rejection of mainstream music.
  • The influx of 'Super-8' film-makers - those who chose to shoot in the rather amateurish, low-budget Super-8 filmstock, instead of the conventional and high-quality 16mm.
  • The birth of Channel 4 in 1982, who promised to support innovative work, and was an important source of funding for films of the avant-garde, thanks to commisioning editor, Rod Stoneman.  However, while the channel screened documentaries on such fillm-makers as Jeff Keen, which served to broaden the spectatorship, the restrictions of broadcast TV made some directors sceptical of its value.
A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)

*SPOILERS*

Moving on then, to the above film, which I suggest you watch before you read the rest of this post; it might make it bit easier to understand.  Might.

I won't bore you with a synopsis; a) because the film has several narratives from which the viewer is supposed to chose from, and far from me to dictate how others should understand it (or not) and b), because I think that, in some cases, the provision of a synopsis suggests that the writer is lazy (it's a good filler), and assumes the reader is fairly dim - surely if you're researching the context of a film, you're gonna know the basic plot, right?  So I'm just gonna get straight to the nitty-gritty.

On the 24th of April, 1997, the director of A Zed and Two Noughts, Peter Greenaway, gave a lecture on his style of film-making, stating that his aim was one of 'maximum ambiguity' (qtd in Petrolle, 2008:159).  Petrolle goes on to say that Greenaway's films interrogate knowledge by their self-consciousness, unremmiting theoreticism, ambiguity, and pluralistic, perverse nature.

In Greenaway's DVD introduction, he suggests that A Zed and Two Noughts, or Z00, should be read as three seperate films: on twin-ship, ecology - the world as a zoo - and cinema as a manipulation of light (nothing ground-breakingly new there then).  He cites Jean-Luc Godard, of the French New Wave strand of film-makers and critics, who said that the 17th century Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer, was the first cinematographer, as he made 'extraordinary manipulation essentially of the product of light' (DVD intro, 2003).  Greenaway was fascinated by Vermeer, calling him 'invisible', and wanted to create a character for him.  He also resurrects Hannicus Van Meegeren, another Dutch painter, this time from the 20th century, who became famous (infamous?) for his forgery of a number of Vermeer's.  He was arrested about 12 years later, you'll all be relieved to know.

What has all this got to do with Z00?  Well, the film constantly references Vermeer's works, as I hope the following images demonstrate:

The Girl with the Red Hat - 1665-67
Venus de Milo and Van Meegeren in A Zed and Two Noughts - 35:37

The Music Lesson - 1662-65
A Zed and Two Noughts film poster
These allegorical referrals provide the viewer with a means of interpreting and understanding this otherwise super-complex film.  As Greenaway himself said, in a 1991 Cineaste interview:
I would like my movies to work the way Dutch paintings did, on literal and metaphorical levels.  If you've got that as a premise it's no problem at all to find all the information that ought to go in the frame - all the cultural allegorical material. (qtd. in Petrolle, 2008:160).
Allegory, according to Madsen, is all about the focus on interpretation, and how bloody difficult it can be to make sense of things.  With allegory at its heart, Z00 reminds us of the desire to understand, and it places a great importance on the perception and production of meaning.   Understanding paintings, for example, can be very subjective; the artist may well be trying to convey a certain message, but the viewer will draw their own conclusions - sometimes based on their age, gender, ethnicity, moral values and so on.  In Dutch paintings, such as Vermeer's, meaning is situated between a realistic representation, and the symbolic sum of coded objects - often hidden as household items, spatial relations and characters.   Consequently, a painting's hidden meanings and suggestions can be easily overlooked, and Z00 plays on this by constantly throwing the viewer red-herrings and random, misleading clues to follow.  Vermeer's paintings require the viewer to reflect on their nature, purpose and signifying strategies, and Z00 asks the same.  The Music Lesson (above) in particular evokes self-reflexivity, by depicting a mirror reflecting an easel.  The above film poster mirrors this (pun intended), by showing camera tripods in a frame behind Greenaway; connoting the extreme self-reflexivity of cinema too.

It came up in Monday's seminar that the characters in Z00 are so flaming odd, that no-one could identify with them.  I would argue though, that we're not supposed to identify, or even like, the film's collection of nutters.  Rather, they serve a purpose, as images to interpret; like Venus de Milo (see above), who is commissioned by Van Meegeren to make a dress for another character, Alba Bewick, who allegedly resembles the women of Vermeer's paintings, namely The Music Lesson and The Concert.  So, you see, the characters in Z00 all fit together to form certain meanings and ideas for the reader to work out.  Granted, they're still proper weird. 

The film is also about twin-ship, and the phenomena of coincidence.  The two protagonists, twin brothers Oswald and Oliver (the two 0s?), both lose their wives simultaneously in a car crash.  The car, driven by Alba Bewick (Buick is a car manufacturer), crashes into a swan (what else?) on Swan's Way (of course), and the brothers (both zoologists) become totally obsessed with trying to sort these coincidences into sorm form of narrative, in order to make sense of this bizarre trgedy.  The brothers' quest for answers parallels our own search for details within the film, that will enable us to make sense of the plot.  This duality signifies th process of producing meaning; the attempt to locate, and then connect, a series of events, from which to tell a coherent story.

Obviously, if you'v seen the film then you'll know it's not that straightforward to understand (understatement much?!), due to the numerous red-herrings and dead ends. While McHoul and Wills (not Prince Wills') accuse Z00 of being pretentious and vacuous (cited in Petrolle, 2008:163), Petrolle argues that the film's refusal to completely satisfy our thirst for knowledge does not make it devoid of positive content.  Instead, the disturbance of wanting to know something, yet not quite being able to figure it out, mirrors life's biggest mysteries - the origins and meaning of life - and this is epitomised nicely by the lovely David Attenborough's Life on Earth films, which Oliver is seen avidly watching.  This, according to Petrolle, highlights the limitations of the human mind, and our uncertainties about such questions as the meaning of life are reflected in the art of textual interpretation that is required when viewing this film. 

Finally, because poor Oswald and Oscar are unable to create an understandable narrative, they end up committing a double suicide (shoulda gone to Bad Wolf Bay).  But even this attempt to make death meaningful fails, as the camera set up to record the event malfunctions, once more paralleling the viewer's interpretation of the film; we are unable to construct any logical meaning. 

A Zed and Two Noughts makes us aware of our longing to completely understand the world around us which, if this were possible, would mean that there would be no room for ambiguity.  As Petrolle says:

'Z00 suggests that it is possible, necessary, and sometimes even fun to live with ambivalence.' (2008:174)

That's it folks.  Hope that was an enlightening experience.  I'm still nowhere near a fan of the avant-garde, and I think Z00 is one of the most bizarre films I've ever seen, but at least I can now see that it was trying to make a point, rather than just being random for the sake of it.

BW xxx

References:

A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)

Dictionary.com (2010) 'avant-garde',  Dictionary.com LLC [online].  Available from: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/avant-garde (Accessed November 20, 2010).

Hobbs, S. D. (1997) 'The Avant-Garde and The Culture of The Future', in: The End of The American Avant Garde: American Social Experience Series, New York University Press: New York.

O'Pray, M. (2008) 'Introduction', in: The British Avant-Garde Film 1926 to 1995, Luton University Press: Luton.

Tate Online Glossary (2010) 'Avant-Garde', (c) Tate London [online].  Available from:  http://www.tate.org.uk/collections/glossary/definition.jsp?entryId=38 (Accessed November 20, 2010).

Petrolle, J. (2008) 'Z is for Zebra, Zoo, Zed, and Zygote, or Is It Possible to Live With Ambivalence?', in: Alemany-Galway, M. & Willoquet-Maricondi, P. (eds.) Peter Greenaway's Postmodern/Poststucturalist Cinema, The Scarecrow Press: Lanham/Toronto/Plymouth, p.159-176.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please feel free to comment, I welcome both positive and negative feedback. However, due to some recent weirdness, I now moderate all comments, so any abusive, threatening, or offensive comments will not be shown.