C is for Cinema, but that is admittedly too broad of a subject, so I will narrow it down to the time in which, for most, cinephilia begins: childhood. I am around five years old. I am with my sister, or my mother. The movie is High School Musical. I don’t remember the plot, as the hour-and-thirty-eight-minute film was too long for me to control my attention span. However, this movie is my first experience escaping from my living room and joining the world on the screen in my living room. I am a part of every dance routine, and I am even on the court dribbling the basketball with Troy Bolton and the Wildcats. Every longing gaze Troy aimed at Gabriella is not for her, but for me, a five-year-old who has now discovered the feeling of a celebrity crush. I am fascinated by the movement on, and of, the screen.[i] This movement of dance and music affects me. I am forced to care deeply about a cast of characters for the first time in my life. Maybe C should be for connection. Connection is the catalyst of cinephilia.
D is going to be for Documentary. The documentary is a format that desires to find authenticity. Documentaries provide a unique opportunity for connection, because they are focused on real people with real stories. Stories We Tell (Sarah Polley, 2012) a documentary in which the director explores the memories and mysteries of her family, and more specifically, the relationship between her father and mother, experiments with the form of the documentary and our preconceived notions about what a documentary should be. Polley intertwines interviews of her family members, a collection of home videos, old photographs, and narration from her father in order to make a collage of connection. When it is made obvious that some of the home videos of the Polley family are not genuine, but instead re-enacted performances by actors, it made me reflect on what the documentary demands of us. Because of its form, the audience expects every piece of information presented in a documentary to be authentic and truthful. However, this is not the case in Stories We Tell, which instead is an attempt to connect pieces of perspective into an entire narrative.
E could be for Epstein, but Essayer is a better fit.Essayer translates in English as to try or attempt. It isthe French word that inspired the English word essay, so, therefore, I guess, E is also for essay. Stories We Tell directed by Sarah Polley expands on the essayistic qualities found in the documentary film. Instead of erasing all the scenes of her subjects laughing or restarting a take, Polley leaves those in, because they are examples of the people attempting to grasp a way to tell the story. The most defining quality of an essay, after all, is to attempt. In the beginning of the film the director asks each person she’s interviewing, “Can you describe the whole story from the beginning until now in your own words?” She is met with pauses and laughs, as these people attempt ways to answer her question. Even the way the camera cuts to the next person quickly, not leaving enough time for a full answer or context for the viewer to understand what this story will be about, shows an attempt and the process of trying to bring the stories together, to create a full narrative. This is what is so significant about this film: the attempt to bring in multiple perspectives and formal elements into the story to create one cohesive unit. It can be argued whether or not the final product accomplishes this goal, but the attempt in itself is what gives the film an essay-like quality. An attempt, however, does not ensure satisfaction or more importantly connection.
F is for Feelings, and the first feeling that comes to mind when I reflect on my viewing experience of No Home Movie: Frustration. This frustration is amplified right now as I try to figure out what to write about this movie which, to be frank, I found incredibly flat. In the middle of seemingly nowhere, a tree sways in the whipping, whistling wind. I sit restless and uncomfortable in my seat. I pick and pick and pick at the back of my hand, anxious for action on the screen.[ii] As more and more time went on, I stopped searching for analytical significance in this scene and allowed myself to get hypnotized by the back-and-forth movement of the trees and the ambient noise of the wind. It was almost like a lullaby, and my mind craved more action. For four minutes, I had not been stimulated by the film and fought the urge to fall asleep. I am frustrated because, as a film major, I expect myself to find tremendous depth in every viewing. However with No Home Movie, I have no deep analysis. Only that I found it quite simple and uninteresting. But maybe that is the point. Real life, although interesting at times, is more often than not plain and simple. Instead of yearning for action, I start to notice the finer details in the long takes. The oranges sat beside a microwave oven. The green kitchen tiles lined up on the wall, clashing with the patterned wallpaper on the wall beside it. As I notice the metallic kitchen table is reminiscent of something you would find at a hometown diner, I stop to reflect upon why the director would add a long take with no people but just the view of a kitchen into her film. To get a deeper understanding of who these characters are as people? To allow the viewer to join the diegetic world as their own character? Maybe to force us to calm our ever-present need for stimulation. To appreciate the simple things in life. I know that there is beauty in things that are plain and simple, but maybe I am still learning how to appreciate this simplicity in film. I find it hard to connect to director Chantal Ackerman in this film. Therefore circling back to the beginning, C should be for Challenge.
Author Biography
Kailyn Shepherd is a student at Amherst College, where she majors in Film and Media Studies. She is interested in using film theory to develop an understanding of how culture shapes the world we live in.
[i] Baldwin, James. “Congo Square.” The Devil Finds Work: An Essay, Vintage Books, 1976, p. 19.
[ii] Inspired by Sarraute, Nathalie. Tropisms. Translated by Maria Jolas. New Directions, 2015.
