KALEIDOSCOPE JAZZ CHAIR

‘Kaleidoscope Jazz Chair’ can foremost be described as an experimental film, one which plays with technique, aesthetics and representation. For instance Eames’s iconic fiberglass chairs are artistically presented through a kaleidoscope as well as technically represented through stop-motion cinematography (which effectively produces the appearance of animated chairs dancing in and around the film frame). The film essentially has two parts, with the first showing fast moving images of chairs, objects and materials; and the second part showing Eames’s office, of which projects images dissolving into a sequence of stop-motion shots of Charles and Ray seated in multi-coloured chairs. Chairs first appear in a coded way and then take on a life of their own in that they become animated or mechanised. For instance, we observe the objects assembling themselves, (much like ‘people’), and we have them appear, reappear, self-stack, order and reorder themselves throughout the films sequence. This is all created through the effect of stop-motion cinematography (one aspect of the film which I found to be most interesting). In defining stop motion cinematography, dictionary.com states that it is essentially an ‘effect’ carried out while shooting, in which “the performers stop their motion and the camera is stopped while an object or performer is added to or removed from the scene, with camera movement and action then resumed for the remainder of the scene of which is often used to create an illusion of sudden appearance or disappearance of persons or objects”. Series of objects are broken down into decorative patterns in this short film, and as each frame is spliced against one another what is ultimately produced is frame by frame presentation of still shots, that when filmed in rapid succession gives fluidity to space, time and motion and consequently gives the illusory appearance of movement with the chairs.

Another interesting aspect in ‘Kaleidoscope Jazz Chair’ is its interest in the ‘sublime’, and of sublimity in the domestic space. In Senses of Cinema Jean Epstein’s theory of de-familiarisation and the sublime seems most fitting to my perspective of the presence of the ‘sublime’ in Eames’s film. Epstein notes that in the process of de-familiarisation what occurs is the object of attention seems to change ‘form’ under the steady and cautious gaze of the spectator. Epstein argues that the object “…reveals anew it’s moral character, it’s human and living expression when reproduced cinematically”. Here Epstein’s concept revolved around seeing an everyday occurrence brought to focus through representation, thus drawing attention to those objects or acts that are ordinarily taken for granted because of their associations with the banal (e.g. just like those associations commonly made with office furniture such as the chair). My suggestion here is that the redesigning and re-represented of the chair, of which has been both animated and aesthetically ‘tweaked’ through e.g. experimentation with tonal variations, allow the Eames’s in this film, to illuminate this idea of ‘cinematic representation’ (as one which has the power to elevate the subject or object out of the realm of the banal and ordinary). For instance, although the images of chairs start of in 1950’s and 1960’s primary colours, these are soon dominated by the presence of secondary colours which begin to emerge. These bright colours become interspersed in the sequence highlighting a moment where the ‘domestic’ or past attitudes towards the ‘domestic’ (as a prosaic space) is transformed and portrayed as that which is ‘infinitely transformable’, (for it has now entered the realm of the sublime).

For some reason i am unable to put up my references-- but dictionary.com has the 'stop-motion' defintion, and the Senses of Cinema article entitled "Sublime Moments" has Epsteins quote. My Apologies!

MAN WITH A MOVIE CAMERA

Dziga Vertov can be regarded as a pioneer of Database Cinema, with his film ‘Man with a Movie Camera’ being an earlier representation of this form. The film is shot like a ‘documentary’ (recording and exploring visual phenomena that unfolds before the camera). Furthermore, the structure of the film reflects ‘database cinema’ (in that images of city life are collected, selected and assembled in an un-conventional way, that goes beyond simple human navigation through physical space). We can identify the film as being experimental in form (which implies a certain rigidity, uncertainty exisiting, in regard to shots), and as one which offers an alternative model to narrative, established by the beginning title that states the film as being created “Without a scenario” e.g. which implies that the film does not have any ‘one’ particular location, character or plot, and the film is not ‘scene’ based, (although things still happen in spaces).

From the opening sequence we are provided with a framework for the workings of the film, (that is a tripartite structure based on three orientations of the camera). First we have the man with the camera (cameraman filming material for his film), then images of the ‘recorded’ (shots of an audience watching the completed film in the theatre), and finally that which has been captured on film (the actual film which projects collected shots from street life in Russian cities, which, unlike the first two sections of the film, is structured chronologically, presenting the movement of cities from day to night). I’d like to suggest that what is made most explicit by Vertov’s ‘Man with a Movie Camera’ is the relationship between cinema and everyday life. In this, Vertov’s inclusion of the cinematic apparatus in his sequences supports this idea, and indicates the camera and or the cinema as belonging in the space of the ‘everyday’. Through the Kino-Eye (cinema-eye) he records life as it is (that is, without the presence of the camera), and life unaware (life surprised, provoked and energised by the presence of the camera). Furthermore, through the film we observe Vertov’s interest in the everyday with his artistic inter-splicing of images of visual phenomena e.g. life, death, work, love, birth, movement, happiness, melancholic moments, emergency etc.

Another aspect of the film which is most interesting is its self reflexive nature. It is here that the following screen titles “A record on celluloid in 6 reels” has relevance. This, I would like to suggest, can be interpreted as an instruction for viewers to think toward rather than away from materiality. This highlights the self reflective nature of the film, in that the viewer is now able to identify themselves within the filmmaking process. What can be taken from this is that the film is the archetype of the reflexive mode, for it takes into account the viewer’s knowledge of filmmaking techniques and the editing processes, thereby presenting the cinematic reality as something which exists as separate from our own ( through the camera lens, the ‘Kino-Eye’), but formed from our own. In essence, the film presents itself as a representation of reality rather than actual reality by showing the actual editing process of the film, with editors cutting the film and splicing it together.

BERLIN: SYMPHONY OF A GREAT CITY

Rutmann’s 'Symphony of a Great City' captures everyday life in the city of Berlin (that is tracing the city and its people from morning, to peak hour, to work, holiday and nightlife). What is made most explicit by each of these segments is that Berlin is a city in constant motion, a city where mobility is the key to its ultimate functioning. Just as the word ‘Symphony’ implies an orchestra or an ensemble of various parts that interact with one another to produce or create a ‘whole’, the film characterises Berlin city as ‘Symphonic’ by nature in that what is produced is an aesthetic experience conveyed through the dynamic expression of the city in motion; revealing the interaction of parts of the city that make up a ‘whole’.

One could suggest upon viewing Rutmann’s film that it is a portrayal of how life changed with the industrial revolution where perhaps the most poignant and or central motif is that of the train. In fact, the opening railway scene can be viewed as an ‘organising image’ with the image of the train as being an omnipresent image of modernity. The railway here can be regarded as a concise image of the impact of modernist technology on the individual body and consciousness, whereby the traditional ways of life have been replaced by uncontrollable change and effectively creates ‘shock’ upon the senses. This is visually communicated or produced by Rutmann through employment of a frenetic editing sequence which collates images of trains and captures their movement as they rush past and toward the viewer.

Another important observation of the film is that it is highly melancholic in nature, and in this, the issue of self-estrangement and consequently the figure of the 'flaneur' becomes highly pervasive. In the film, buildings often appear to engulf the images of people that are usually overlooked or dwarfed. What becomes evident is that the cityscape is void of people and if anything, machines appear to have more autonomy (as is evidenced by the factory sequence where machines fill the film frame and people are most frequently disembodied e.g. with only their hands in focus). As we reach the Peak hour sequence however the urban crowd becomes more prevalent and it is here we can suggest that the camera begins to embody the persona of the ‘flaneur’ (an aimless wanderer). This is because the camera appears to make no attempt to embody the crowd and retains a detached position from what’s essentially ‘going on’. This is most evident during the peak hour sequence, where we are confronted with the continuous flow of bodies and the random nature of images. Within this scene there is no particular subject of interest, rather a random confrontation of fleeting images that have no particular connection other than being apart of the ‘everyday’. In this light, the city conduces alienation and the closest one could get, to obtain a private experience of the city, is to enter the urban landscape perhaps in the most advantageous position of the flaneur who has the ability to experience the city at its most transitory. Through such sequences, we can begin to see that the film is preoccupied with modernity and urban spaces, and it is here that the urban angles and the urban crowd become a subject of importance.

PICCADILLY

Lights, camera, action! The spectacle that is 'Piccadilly' unfolds from the outset of the film, as viewers are thrown into the hub of London and are immersed in the experience of the cinematic city which is marked by the constant flow of bodies and traffic, the transitory, ephemeral signs, bright neon lights and the intensity of the entertainment district. Furthermore, as the film progresses we begin to see how each setting and character are ultimately being showcased for their theatrical and or cinematic qualities (e.g. as we move from the Piccadilly club which is introduced by an upbeat dance sequence, to the chaotic kitchen and the dancing scullery maid, to backstage melodrama, to the ladies dressing rooms, to the Limehouse district and so on).

As each element appears to be on show, what is produced and ultimately conveyed throughout the course of the film is an existing tension between private and public space. For instance, we can view the ladies cloak room scene as being representative of a kind of quasi-private space that is full of motility (a space described by bodies moving around). Public and private tension is also communicated through Gilda Gray’s character Mabel who maintains a highly theatrical presence throughout, which is made evident by her costumes which make her appear as if on stage at all times and always being in the public’s view or in the eye of the spectator. The confusion between private and public realms is even highlighted by the characters themselves whom appear confused by signage. For example people begin to question if Piccadilly is a club, dialog through inter-titles is as follows “Do clubs have electric signs? Of course it isn’t a club… they call it a club and so everybody wants to come into it”. It is here we have an instance where signage appears to break desire creating a confusion between private and public space, of which can be regarded as stemming from the realization that they are within a crowd yet still apart of something which is desirably exclusive.

Another aspect of the film that i found particularly interesting is Anna May Wong’s character Shosho, and her appeal as a cinematic subject. Although acting is most often ‘non-naturalistic’ within these silent films (e.g. evident during dance scenes or in the cloak room where viewers are confronted with bodies that move mechanically and appear ‘ornamental’ by nature), one can suggest that Anna Mai Wong’s character ‘Shosho’ challenges such an idea. This is perhaps most expressed within the kitchen dance scene. It is here that the film reaches its most intense moment, where it no longer presents images of multiple bodies (as seen in e.g. the cloak room which is a space described by bodies moving around and bodies replicated through mirroring), but a singular, subjective presence is introduced and characters become individualised. The camera further explicates this subjective nature as it follows or traces Shosho’s fluid and delicate body movements, and pans around the room to reveal other individuals whom appear fixated or almost in a trance by her dancing. Furthermore, the camera and the film’s audio shows a deep oriental affection with her character which is highlighted by a change in music which can be identified as being Asian or oriental in nature.

Hello everyone!