1. Introduction Since the conception of film in the late 19th to early 20th century, the categorization of film as an art form continues to be a prevalent topic of discourse among scholars. Film, in its most fundamental sense, desires a certain appeal to mass audiences for economic return. The necessity of commodification, thus, limits the perceived value of film, marking it as a low-brow and popular good rather than a high-brow and academic work of art. Acclaimed German director Werner Herzog calls film “not the art of scholars, but of illiterates.” While his films are often labeled as “artsy,” Herzog strongly denies categorization of his films as art. For Herzog, this identification is superfluous and useless, detracting from the real utility of film as a form of entertainment. While Herzog and other conservatives reject film’s potential as a high art form—a criticism unaccepted by many cinephiles and film scholars—this line between high and low art is not as clear as they would like to believe. In fact, as UCLA Professor Johanna Drucker shows in her essay “Sweet Dreams: Contemporary Art and Complicity,” the line is often blurred and unclear, especially among contemporary and modern art. She writes, “The value of fine art, after all, was never that it was ‘better’ in any transcendent sense, but that it had a capacity to create interest and sustain imaginative life” (Drucker 106). Here, Drucker proffers a definition for fine art, a definition she later supports through analysis of contemporary works by artists who present pornographic figures in various, imaginative ways. She argues that these genres, typically associated with low art or even no art form at all, may in fact “create interest and sustain imaginative life,” a conclusion that clearly challenges Herzog’s claim. Drucker’s argument, when placed within the context of film, only confirms the ability for films to achieve fine art status. Other influential scholars have found similar conclusion. Specifically, the works of acclaimed Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu[1] bring the topic of art and film into conversation. Ozu’s works highlight a tendency towards artistry, a desire to transform daily life and mundane conversations into a digestible art form that he called film. As Bard College Professor Ian Buruma writes: “Ozu's genius was to lift an essentially middlebrow genre to the level of high art, without losing the broad, natural audience for family dramas. He managed to please both the Japanese masses and intellectual cinephiles… Plot was never the main point for Ozu” (Buruma). Here, Buruma identifies both the need for commodification—a key recognition of film as a public good—and the elevation of film genre to “the level of high art.” Ozu, through his innovative focus on character and the ordinary Japanese family, creates an imaginative piece of art that blends the realist tendencies of high art during the early 20th century with the medium of film. When speaking of Ozu, American film theorist and historian David Bordwell has the highest appraisal and respect. His appraisal originates with Ozu’s engagement with the art world and, specifically, Ozu’s unique approach to film presentation and style that brands his works as artful. When speaking about Ozu and his contemporaries, Bordwell writes: “In brief, these filmmakers become engaging, even entertaining, when we realize that they are to some extent shifting our involvement from characters and situations to the manner of presentation. Not narrative but narration is what engages us” (Bordwell & Thompson). Bordwell argues that directors like Ozu focus on film narration, or in other words, film style as a means to present characters, situations, and narrative. For Bordwell, this is the most intriguing element of Ozu’s films; they have the ability to use cinematic technique as a mode of expression. The technique is then an individual character in dialogue with the rest of the film’s aspects. Ozu’s style of filming, thus, becomes an integral part of the function, meaning, and intent behind his films, enabling readings of his film to exist on another level much like how art requires and even demands this academic discourse. Drucker, with her definition of fine art, would undeniably support Ozu’s use of film as an artistic aestheticization[2] of Japanese family life. Yasujiro Ozu and film directors alike support the idea of film as a form of fine art or as a medium that attempts to and strives to achieve this status. As the aforementioned paragraph identifies, Ozu’s obsession with narrative through narration highlights his objective to create meaning out of his films, a common trend among artists and directors. American painter Louis Lozowick identifies this trend as a “double function” of art, the ultimate goal of an artist: “A composition is most effective when its elements are used in a double function: associative, establishing contact with concrete objects of the real word and aesthetic, serving to create plastic values… this is perhaps as high a goal as any artist might hope to attain” (Lozowick 19). Lozowick argues that a painting, or in this case a film, must have or hope to attain both associative and aesthetic[3] qualities—associative, in that the objects within the composition, image, or film can be relatable to real experiences, objects, and characters, and aesthetic, in that these objects can derive meaning. It is the latter, the ability of artwork to have metaphorical value, that enables an artwork to have acclaim and be granted fine art status. In film, objects are extended beyond the canvas and can pertain to, as Buruma identifies, the narration or film style and technique that form the important themes and metaphors. 2. Christmas in August This double function is what makes Hur Jin-ho’s Christmas in August (1998) particularly compelling and striking. This film embodies many aspects of Ozu’s film style and transforms them, using photographic qualities to produce a new masterpiece, resembling a new art form. It captures and moves the audience not only because of its real and tangible narrative, but also because of its genius cinematic presentation, highlighting its metaphorical value as a film striving and succeeding to be recognized as a form of fine art—a photograph—with a cohesive message about the limitations of youthful love. This paper, through analysis of Hur Jin-ho’s Christmas in August (1998), will articulate a case for the aforementioned claim in order to show the qualities and characteristics of Jin-ho’s film that makes it both compelling and intriguing. It will first identify major film techniques and then turn to textual analysis in order to dissect each scene and its role in the film. Analysis will include a focus on certain “objects” or cinematic stylizations within specific scenes that allow viewers to derive meaning out of these techniques. Finally, this paper will push the readers to consider Jin-ho’s film as an art form—a compilation of photographs—that may or may not go beyond the confines of Drucker’s definition of fine art. 3. Framing Director Hur Jin-ho uses the framing of his scenes in order to grant his film a photographic quality. Prevalent within much of the storyline, photography represents a critical aspect of Jin-ho’s commentary on life as well as the method in which he chooses to capture the daily life of his characters. His shots are often playfully composed in order to invoke a certain reflection on photography. For Jung-won, the main protagonist of the film, photography captures moments of life that can be preserved, even memorialized. Throughout much of the film, Jung-won and his lover Da-rim are framed by wooden panels, windows, and doorways; it is as if these characters are preserved in their moment of joy or that Jin-ho purposefully wants viewers to remember these moments. Associatively, these moments are easily identifiable as experiences of love, happiness, and joy. Metaphorically, Jin-ho calls for a preservation of these moments. In one particular scene in the beginning portion of the film, the camera captures a smiling Da-rim framed by the wooden posts of Jung-won’s camera shop. Here, this image embodies the youthfulness of both these characters; it is as if this is a memory that Jung-won never wants to forget, an experience which he wants to keep forever in his heart—it is this purity and simplicity that is captured by the camera’s lens and it is these same qualities that Jin-ho aestheticizes in his film. This one scene is repeated again and again throughout the course of the film, so much that the two protagonists and their uncanny relationship become a reflection of youthful love. Other elements of the photograph and the frame also reveal a similar reading about the preservation of childhood. In another scene, Jung-won and his sister are seen spitting watermelon seeds off their back porch, a childhood experience that brings back memories about Jung-won’s elementary school affection for another girl. Both Jung-won and his sister are framed by the wooden posts of his home; this simplistic depiction is like a sibling photograph, a candid image of a moment of pure joy and siblinghood. While his sister has grown up and gone her separate ways, this scene shows viewers the extent of her familial love and the care she has for her brother, a moment which Jin-ho urges viewers to remember. 4. Filming through Lenses Most importantly, a photograph is what it is not only because of its frame but also the lens it utilizes. In this respect, Jin-ho attempts to experiment with the idea of the gaze, changing camera perspectives in order to reflect the gaze of the camera. In this sense, much of this film is captured through a lens of some kind, as if the film itself was an embodiment of photography. Jung-won constantly looks through his window, searching for Da-rim. His gaze is met by a curious, youthful Da-rim, who also similarly looks through the glass at Jung-won. The camera shoots these scenes through a glass window, scenes that are often framed by wooden posts. With these two techniques in conjunction, Jin-ho further emphasizes the relationship between film and photography. The director, thus, urges the audience to critically view his film as an artistic representation of daily life, an aestheticized perspective on love and life. The lens, then, serves as another technique utilized by Jin-ho in order to preserve the moments of the film that define Jung-won’s character as well as the experiences of value and purpose. Filming through lens, however, may indicate a deeper reading on the presence of photography within Jin-ho’s film. Jung-won, for instance, washes his window as his elementary school lover sits inside his shop waiting to speak with him. She is obscured, however, by the water trickling down from the window, a distorted image that clearly indicates a fragmented relationship between these two figures. This moment represents a stylistic element of Jin-ho’s film that directs viewers towards the importance of photography in shaping the purpose of his film. While the lens may similarly represent a metaphorical memorialization and preservation of youth and childhood, it can also represent a distortion or inability of the protagonist to truly experience the images he captures. In other words, the youthful love, the times of joy, and the excitement of life are only fleeting and transient moments of Jung-won’s life; they reflect a sadness and even abject resignation towards Jung-won’s situation, showing the limitation or impossibility for Jung-won to love Da-rim. These moments are echoed by others like them. In two important scenes, Jin-ho films through the eye of an actual camera. The resulting image is either blurred or reversed, clearly indicating that the perspective is through another camera. These scenes have obvious metaphorical value. For instance, Jung-won’s funeral photograph as well as Da-rim’s photograph are both captured this way and can be seen as a preservation of happiness or, more extremely, the inability for Jung-won to hold onto that happiness and thus the need for him to memorialize those moments. Both of these readings seem to complicate Jin-ho’s film, a complication that intrigues and compels his audience. Thus, by shooting scenes through different lenses, Jin-ho is able to create a deeper dimension in which to look at his film, making it both interesting and substantial. 5. Long Takes and an Unmoving Camera Jin-ho goes even further to mimic the idea of the photograph by using long takes and a still camera with relatively little movement within the shot. These still images allow for reflection and digestion of the scene and its slow pace presses viewers to consider each individual image as meaningful and noteworthy. In one scene, Jung-won sits with Da-rim as they wait on the photographs to finish printing. During this time, the camera is completely still throughout their dialogue, eye-level with both protagonist. While the camera does not seem to be doing anything unique or special, and while it stays stagnant throughout the whole one minute sequence, the camera in fact accentuates each object within the room, allowing viewers to dissect and read into the meaning behind the two protagonist’s dialogue, the fan, the couch, their body language, the clock, and the portraits behind them. As with photographs, paintings, and other forms of fine art, the objects within the medium of art often derive meaning and purpose. This was Jin-ho’s ultimate aim and, as Drucker claims, is the “high goal” of all fine art. The clock, for instance, is constantly heard in the background and seen in the foreground. It reminds the viewers that time is ticking away and that these precious moments, although preserved in memory and photograph, are fleeting and passing experiences for Jung-won—that his love for Da-rim is only momentary; time will never stop—it will never reverse. The clock is both the fairest and the most unfair object within Jin-ho’s film. Through Jin-ho’s slow camera and long takes, the clock is highlighted and accentuated, stamping each scene with a reminder that time will continue running no matter the human circumstances. Images and sequences like these, the stills and photographic-like quality of Jin-ho’s films, push viewers to think, to reflect, and to consider the meaning behind the objects within his images. These mundane day-to-day objects become meaningful and even important to Jin-ho’s narrative, pieces of Jung-won’s life that are precious and invaluable. 6. Film as Photography Jin-ho, through his use of different cinematic techniques and focuses, enables viewers to look at film in a different way. In many respects, Jin-ho celebrates photography and uses it as a powerful tool of expression in his film that enhances both the images and the meaning behind his narrative. While this film both creates interest and has the ability to sustain imaginative life, it seems to work on a completely different dimension. His film no longer represents a viewing of one image or one still. It is a culmination and incorporation of many images, many paintings, and many photographs that, together, mean something much greater in proportion than a single piece of fine art. The imaginary boundaries of his work are limitless and boundless; his film is a masterpiece because of his ability to blend the cinematic with the photographic—the art world with the popular world. Jin-ho’s film is thus not only a celebration of photography, but also a celebration and appraisal of film. It fights against Herzog and “film-haters.” It fights against Drucker and her too general, too broad definition of fine art. It even fights against cinephiles who blindly cast all films as achieving fine art status. Jin-ho goes beyond all expectations, reaches beyond the realist mode of Ozu’s work, and makes Christmas in August (1998) a work of art in and of itself—an art that stretches and flexes in order to encompass many pieces and many parts. 7. Concluding Remarks The aestheticization of daily life in Jin-ho’s work, whether it is through framing, different lenses, or other cinematic techniques, succeeds in granting this film metaphorical value. These themes and metaphors running through his film make his work compelling and intriguing. In the end, the techniques work in tandem with the metaphors they invoke and succeed in creating a work of art, an album of photographs that say something deep about youth love: that love is something pure, simple, and yet fleeting; it is something capturable, yet escapable. Jung-won is a character within a photograph, a timeless figure that will always be preserved in memory. His love, although ultimately unrealized, is captured through touching interactions with objects of all kinds—interactions with even the camera and the film itself. Film and the camera then become personified characters that allow us to remember and even relive the moments we may never live to experience again. Works Cited Bordwell, David, and Kristin Thompson. "Observations on Film Art." David Bordwell's Website on Cinema. University of Wisconsin, n.d. Web. 12 May 2014. Buruma, Ian. "Yasujiro Ozu: An Artist of the Unhurried World." The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, 09 Jan. 2010. Web. 12 May 2014. Christmas in August. Dir. Hur Jin-ho. Perf. Suk-kyu Han and Eun-ha Shim. 1998. DVD. Drucker, Johanna. Sweet Dreams: Contemporary Art and Complicity. Chicago: U Of Chicago, 2005. Print. Lozowick, Louis. "The Americanization of Art." Machine-Age Exposition Catalogue. N.p.: n.p., 1927. 18-19. Print. [1] This Japanese director was hailed for his portrayal of daily life and was acclaimed for his use of film as a realist tool of expression. Because of this, he earned much appraisal from the Western world. His style of long, slow takes has affected many modern filmmakers. [2] Here, aestheticization of Japanese family life means a form of beautification of life that makes his films not only real and representative of the real, but pleasing in both their style and composition. [3] Here, the aesthetic qualities are the characteristics and objects within paintings that derive meaning. In other words, they are representative of the metaphorical value of paintings in provoking thought, wonder, and conversation. This aspect is extremely crucial in understanding the double function of a work of art and will be important in understanding Jin-ho’s film.
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The idea of the American Dream is embedded within the Declaration of Independence, a crucial document within American history that prescribes each citizen the right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” These inalienable rights grant citizens the freedom to pursue prosperity, happiness, and success through hard work and perseverance. As defined by James Truslow Adams in 1931, the American Dream is the fulfillment of this ability to achieve both external and internal gratification from a life in the United States. Whether it is upward social mobility or uplift, America is regarded as a place where equality in opportunity and society is exercised as the moral and political basis of the nation. While the existence of the American Dream seemed promising and even achievable in America’s history, many modern-day scholars tell a different story. With multiple financial crises looming over America’s shoulders over the last couple decades, the dream seems to be all but a myth. Specifically, 1980s America marked a period in time when the United States was facing huge uncertainties regarding its relationship with the Soviet Union conflict as well as a severe economic recession. With more than 10% of Americans unemployed, the early 80s was identified as the largest recession since the Great Depression. The American Dream seemed lost within the rubble of post-war America. Art provides a unique glimpse within history through cultural, social, and political perspectives and, in this case, a unique view on the American Dream and its continuation in modern America. It serves as a projection of opinions and thoughts onto a canvas, photograph, or other medium of expression, directing viewers and audiences to sustain political thought. Lozowick writes: “A composition is most effective when its elements are used in a double function: associative, establishing contact with concrete objects of the real word and aesthetic, serving to create plastic values” (Lozowick 19) Here, Lozowick identifies art’s dual function; that is, art maintains a certain contact with the real world while serving and sustaining an imaginative purpose—having a creative and social value. Art, thus, serves to use such identifications with the real world as a means to make an argument about reality through an aestheticized production. Art and the associated discourses are then inextricably linked to one another as integral pieces of history that can be unraveled to expose truths that may be hidden within cultural works. Eric Fischl puts Lozowick’s idea of a double function to work in his 1986 oil painting “The Black Sea.” In this painting, Fischl explores the ambiguities behind the American Dream. While on the surface Fischl’s work seems to glorify the existence of leisure, extravagance, and freedom, a patriotic representation of post-war America and a supportive claim for the existence of the American Dream, upon closer inspection, it actually provides a more cynical picture on America, concluding that the American Dream only exists in the realm of fantasy and that the identity of America is nothing more than a façade that covers it’s true “nakedness” or materiality. The title of Fischl’s painting, “The Black Sea,” provides a first look at Fischl’s argument. Here, the adjective “black” can be seen as both literal and metaphorical. In its most literal sense, the Black Sea is a body of water north of the Mediterranean Sea bordered by many European countries and modern-day Russia. It received its name due to its violent tendencies to swallow sailors in its dark stormy waters. Metaphorically, the color black is usually associated with death, scars, and forms of emptiness. It is a color of darkness and death, both key ideas associated with its literal identification. The title starkly differs from the painting’s picturesque portrayal of leisure. The irony involved in the discrepancy between the actual depiction in the painting and its title emphasize that America and the American Dream is in fact blackened, scarred, and more extremely, all but dead. The violent storm of the Cold War and economic crisis has all but swept away any life that attempts to sustain itself within the frame of the painting. The violent nature indicated by the painting’s title also resonates with Fischl’s unique style of presentation. Fischl focuses less on the detail of his subject matter but rather on the overall composition of his piece. In his painting, the people’s facial expressions and the miscellaneous leisurely items are obscured and unclear. While the subjects are not completely emotionless and are clear enough to associate with real world objects, viewers struggle to determine Fischl’s artistic meaning with a merely direct confrontation of his work. Fischl, thus, invites viewers to read into the ambiguity of these faces and objects. Its unclear quality and the aforementioned title place this painting within the context of Cold War America, highlighting the confusing and often chaotic times that defined that period. Even more extremely, Fischl’s brush stroke may be viewed as a purposeful effort to obscure his subjects—an explicit act by the author to blur the identities of his subjects. This reading, alongside the idea of blackness, proffers a similar conclusion that the idea of the American Dream is in fact separated from the identities of the subjects within the painting. That is, the hazy style of painting points to the inability for the individuals to fulfill the American Dream. In addition to the presentation of his painting, the composition and construction of his painting also adds another level of complication to Fischl’s message. His painting is in actuality two individual pieces that overlap over one another. His art, then, is more than just a two-dimensional piece of work; the canvas extends into the viewer’s space, providing motion and a sense of time through space. This effect brings the subjects within his work to life and directly juxtaposes his painting with another closely related industry of art: film. His painting is thus a storyboard and can be read as a record of time, a chronological capture of motion that heightens his claim that the American Dream may have disappeared through time. When analyzing the subject matter of Fischl’s work, however, these images and their metaphorical reincarnation yield a disconcerting response in the viewers. Fischl paints a picture of a naked man and woman at the beach, seemingly tanning their bodies as they enjoy a water and soda. The man is seen stroking the woman’s body as she lies on what looks to be a foam pad covered with a towel. The woman dons a fancy pair of sunglasses and is seen beside a single black high heel. On the right side, the same naked woman is seen lying on the beach with nothing but her sunglasses, staring back at herself and the man beside her. At first glance, this painting seems to showcase the American Dream at its finest. Nudity, here, is a liberating act of freedom and the fancy heels, glasses, and pads clearly place the woman and man within the context of leisure. Upon closer inspection, however, viewers are forced to consider the implications of the woman on the right. Her gaze can be interpreted in two ways. First, her gaze can be one of remembrance. That is, the two paintings are composed in chronological order, indicating that the woman somehow loses and is stripped of everything that makes her activity one of leisure. This reading matches Fischl’s compositional style and presentation of his painting. The subject is naked and alone, scorching and burning from the sun’s hot rays. This image, thus, highlights the effect of downward social mobility. Several questions come to light when forming this conclusion: Who is the man beside her? What kind of relations do they have? Fischl gives us clues that, although ambiguous, give room for multiple interpretations. He does, however, point to a more erotic and dark reading. That is, the man may have indeed raped the woman and taken her belongings. Society, especially in a time of economic and political turmoil, grants no room for this woman to fulfill the American Dream and rapes individuals unto they are forced to give up everything they have. While this is only one reading, an alternative reading may suggest that her gaze is indeed one of longing. The composition separates herself from the picturesque ideal of the American Dream; the woman was and will never be that woman in the left painting because she and the man himself are only a figment of her imagination. Although she desires such a life of affection, leisure, and money, this life only exists in her fantasies. Regardless of the viewer’s interpretation, the conclusion seems to be the same: Fischl concludes that in a society marred by an uncertain political and economic climate, individuals are unable to achieve the American Dream. “The Black Sea” is a cultural reflection of a point in United States history filled with many questions regarding the future. Fischl remarks on the absence of social mobility during this time and highlights the prevalence of immorality through his nude figures. The lack of clarity, both politically and socially, of the United States can be seen through not only the painting’s title, but also its presentation, composition, and subject matter. The painting, however, offers an additional clue that may dispel the American Dream and its existence altogether. That is, even in the left fantastical image, the woman is still incomplete; she is not seen with clothes and only has one heel. Perhaps, Fischl is claiming that the American Dream, from its beginnings, was never a reality and was always a work of the imagination, a myth that is swallowed up by “The Black Sea.” Works Cited Fischl, Eric. The Black Sea. 1986. Oil. Princeton Museum of Art, Princeton University. Lozowick, Louis. "The Americanization of Art." Machine-Age Exposition Catalogue. N.p.: n.p., 1927. 18-19. Print. |
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September 2014
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