For the purpose of the comparative nature of parts of the film, I’ve split the film into specific sections.
Part 1-Beginning (majestic, beautiful nature) to first train scene we encounter (music speeds up) Part 2-Train scene (fast music) to slower music (woman seemingly screaming into her hands) Part 3-Slower music to end
1. There was a definite pattern in Fricke’s opening scenes. How did the cinematic techniques used in Part I of the film (long shot, usually from dutch angle→ followed by a medium or close shot filmed at eye-level→followed by a shot of an individual (close up) followed by a panning shot of humans) suggest meaning to the film? What was he trying to suggest about the connection between nature and human interaction in the first part? What about the second part? Third part?
2. How does the use of diagetic and non-diagetic sound shift and change throughout the film? In what ways did the audio track influence your interpretation of the film? In what ways do the movement (pacing) of the audio and visual tracks work together to establish context and develop meaning? 2a. What is symbolic about the image we see before we the first time we hear the fast-paced music in the film (man with the tattoo on his back)? How does that reflect on the previous section (part 1)?
3. How did the editing techniques play an important role in your interpretation of the film?
4. In what ways did the film incorporate symbols, perspective, tone/mood, motif, etc? What cinematic nuances and choices were made to help you distinguish these AND the theme or overall purpose of the film? 4a. How does this film come full-circle in its presentation? How does it not? What does this suggest about the author’s purpose? Does this film in any way contextualize the people and places presented or comment on humanity as a whole? Were there any techniques that remained consistent throughout? Did the movie have any sort of resolution?
5. Ok, I know I cheated by posting about 20 questions disguised as four. I’d also really like to know this: What did you think about the film?
To me, this film seems very much like a film with subtitles. My husband drags me to some foreign film when I would much rather see a blockbuster, and I end up not even noticing the subtitles about five minutes into the film. Even though Baraka lacked dialogue, I still felt that an unspoken narration was powerful.
If I can start with the last question (since there is quite a list there! :D), my main feeling coming out of the film was an ache to travel. I haven't traveled beyond a few hundred miles from home in my life, and while I'm saving to do so one day, that day seems a long way off. The amazing, National-Geographic-Calendar landscapes were breathtaking on their own, without considering their place in the narrative. And the scenes of the different types of worship made me feel particularly privileged-- how many people get to see that sight in their lives, even on film?
In terms of perspective, I felt a separation of shots between the intimate and those wider in scale (that pattern you mentioned in the first question). We saw these amazing long, helicopter shots panning over incredible landscapes, and then in the next scene we transitioned to intimate close-ups, even looking deep into a few subject's eyes. (Even the monkeys! The monkeys relaxing in the hot springs really made me happy.) Similar to the contrast in scope we saw in Miles Above when we transitioned from the shot of Earth from space to the microscopic slides of ants. I feel like that this is one of a series of contrast the director/editors used to create a sense of story.
Another "contrast" would be the different sorts of "civilization" we see primarily in the middle part of the film. After a series of nature-dominated scenes in Asia, Africa, and Australia, we move to a factory setting. There's this gorgeous shot of a late, where the sky and reflection of the sky become confused as the camera flies over the water. It's this image of serenity, eternity. And then in the next moment, we see a chainsaw ripping through a tree in the rain-forest. We see a series of scenes of human "development" scarring the landscape, mining, the cigarette factory that cuts to an Asian businessman smoking one. For me, it fostered a real sense of connection.
Overall, I enjoyed the film because I was prepared to treat the movie as a poem. However, it generally doesn't take an hour and a half to read a single poem, so it was a little different to go so long without any dialogue.
It's interesting that you compared those contrasting scenes to Miles Above. This is something that I hadn't even thought of.
Continuing with that thought-we talked a bit in class for Miles Above about the disconnect between the different people in the film. I read Baraka as a statement on personal connection with nature as well as that "disconnect" between nature and its inhabitants. Fiction films seem to portray these similar ideas. (I keep coming back to movies like Avatar, or children's films like Pocahontas and The Lion King.) These films are so much more direct in what they WANT you to glean from viewing it. However,
I noticed the audio of the chainsaw (and close-up on the saw itself), then the long shot of the tree crashing down, tumbling into other trees, also. It's almost as if the director was saying "Here, we see birds in their natural habitat being disturbed. Why, you ask? Well, I'll show you-look at how this chainsaw is ripping apart this tree. Don't think it's all that bad? (I mean, after all, we need to use the wood.) Well, look at how much destruction just ONE TREE and ONE HUMAN with a chainsaw can cause. Do you REALLY need to copy ALL of those papers?"
Also, the tattoo on the man's back-it looked so much like the painted faces of the men and women in the earlier part of the film. To me, it occurred as a clear transition between those completely in touch with/functioning as "one with nature" and those completely disconnected. I appreciated it in the same way that one gets a tattoo in Chinese script, thinking it means something like "change and progress", when it actually means "coins" or "money". I believe it clearly symbolized the connection that most people BELIEVE they have with nature because they appreciate its beauty and majesty, but then have no problem tossing a cigarette butt or plastic bag on the ground. So, the transition occurs when the audio track is starting to speed up, plus this close up on the man's back.
Did anyone read it differently? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on the purpose of that clip. One thing I think we can all agree on is that each track, camera angle, editing technique, etc was used purposefully and in conjunction with all of the others to create the story.
Courtney, I liked your comparison to the scene in Miles Above. I never thought of that. You also made me think of something when you mentioned your desire to travel. I have not done a great deal of traveling, but when I have, it has often been the most unexpected things that were special. A couple of years ago my husband and I went to the Rocky Mountains. They were breathtaking in their beauty, as was Mt. Rushmore and other landmarks we saw, but the moments I most remember about that week had to do with the little cottage we stayed at, and the deer that came to our front lawn every morning. It was just a humble little cabin in an RV park in S. Dakota, nowhere near any mountains, but every morning at dawn I stook outside in my robe with a mug of strong black coffee, watching the deer, sometimes a mother and fawn, standing right by our Subaru. I still feel happy whenever I remember those solitary mornings in the early mist, alone with the deer (and the RVs!). It was so wonderful! And so it made me think that all the splendor of the exotic places we saw in the film are not exotic to the people who live there - they are just home. Most of those people have probably never been anywhere else. Their serenity comes from within. I, too, loved the white monkey with the wise gaze, so content just sitting in the water. Many individuals were shown in peaceful activity - praying, meditating, carrying baskets of food in a calm, intentional way. And then there was the man in the subway whose head was bobbing because he looked exhausted and was falling asleep. Meditation energizes, exhaustion is draining. All of this reminded me of the saying, "Wherever you go, there you are."
You have posed a lot of thought-provoking questions. Like the seemingly random images in a poetic documentary, my thoughts are coming at me randomly.
Baraka means blessing. The film itself felt like a blessing, a gift. Startling, disturbing, beautiful images and sounds that stay with you. The film pulled the viewer in; there was a sense of being in the water, among the people, in the clouds.
The diegetic sounds of water rushing, birds singing, insects chirping, the wind blowing through the mountains all blended with the soundtrack, which at times sounded like chanting, bell ringing, screaming, sirens, and thunder and that was often indistinguishable from the diegetic sounds.
The low-angle shots of monuments and temples suggested reverence. The Dutch-angle shots of the jet slicing through the cityscape and the airplane cemetery felt disturbing. The homeless people were shot at eye level: we are they, they are we.
I was struck by the similarity of rituals among the religious ceremonies: bowing to a divinity, the wearing of like garb, worshiping in groups, dancing, chanting, waving of arms (not unlike the Serpent Handlers in the Appalachians). We are more alike than different. Also the lighting of candles, which reminded me of the Buddhist saying, “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.”
Creatures appeared in flocks: flocks of birds, flocks of deer, flocks of dead airplanes, flocks of worshipers, flocks of prostitutes.
The absence of narrative (spoken or subtitled) is in itself a motif. To explain would have been to detract from the message of the vastness of our shared existence on this planet and the things that connect and disconnect us.
In this film, ocean waves crash on rocks, clouds resemble waves, mud streams through waterfalls (while a rainbow blesses it), and birds who are flying appear to be swimming. We flinch at baby chicks on a conveyor belt but barely blink at humans funneled into the subway station or packed into an assembly line. Things are not always as they appear and yet these things, too, are real.
Caitlin, I'm so glad you mentioned the scenes with the ducks and the subways. That's the scene that probably stuck with me the most throughout the film. Since Dr. Shea mentioned paying attention to the way that certain scenes are edited together, I tried to observe that in particular, but it was most meaningful to me in that scene. Every time a duck was crushed or tossed my heart ached, but the movement of people crammed in a subway seems normal. And finally, the grow-up Chickens crammed into the cages as a "normal" part of our food industry. It might've seemed insignificant by itself, but I felt compelled to really notice my emotional response to those few scenes.
Wow, Cathy! So much of what you shared had to do with the majesty of the shots and visual and audio tracks.
I really like what you wrote about "flocks". We see flocks of animals, people, chicks, prostitutes, etc. One thing that I find particularly interesting about this is how the "flocks" are interacting with each other. The people on the subway are juxtaposed with the chicks on the conveyor belt. It's almost as if you expect that people would be more interconnected, but everyone just seems to be shuffling around. They don't have any real connection to each other. I don't know why this is so surprising to me. I've been on the subways of major cities, and I recognize how disconnected everyone is. No one talks to anyone and just shuffles about their day. It's even more apparent in society with the advent of technology-people sleep, listen to music, play on their phones, read their Kindles, etc. I'm personally interested in this idea because I had an experience last weekend while traveling back from Philly to Lancaster on the train. The train was packed, so I sat down next to someone I didn't know, who was just sitting in his seat, not really focused on anything in particular. My husband often says that I can make a friend at a funeral because I want to talk to and connect with everyone I meet. I tried to strike up a conversation with this gentleman, but after a few failed attempts and grunt-like replies on his end, he put his headphones on and opened up the pamphlet about "What to do if the train crashes". (Incidentally, there was a gentleman two seats ahead who struck up a conversation with the person next to him, and ended up talking to her the entire ride to Lancaster.)
Now, I understand that not everyone is as open and chatty with anyone and everyone they meet. Maybe he was shy. Maybe he didn't care what I had to say. Maybe he was annoyed that I took up the seat where his bag was sitting. Regardless, I just feel this constant need to connect with people, as if "dealing with/understanding/making sense of life" is one of the few great equalizers in humanity. We may have different experiences, different values, different goals and lifestyles, but how can we come to understand each other, grow as people, and truly appreciate what others have to give without at least listening to them?
So, diatribe aside, what kind of statement did the flocks present? Well, a few phrases that come to mind: "We're only as strong as our weakest link", or the idea that we need to work together in order to function as a team (birds), or the idea that together we can accomplish great things (worshipers), or we need to protect each other (deer), or "Hey, even though this is a tough lot in life/situation in life, this is our common ground. We're in this together, in a way." (prostitutes) Shouldn't we be taking a hint from these first "flocks" that we're presented with instead of trying to disconnect from everything? I think most humans crave connection, in some way or another, but it's becoming increasingly unnatural and awkward to be able to have a real conversation with someone without an agenda.
To me this film felt like more of an experience than a story, and the editing of the film is what made this experience so powerful. I agree that the film can be divided into the three parts that were listed above. I didn’t know what to expect from the documentary, so when it started out serene I thought that it may continue that way for the rest of the film. The scene with the tree being cut down caught me by surprise and my tranquility quickly escalated to tension. I think that if the film were to begin with the busy subways, chicks on conveyor belts, and impoverished areas it would not have the same affect as transitioning from the majestic beginning in part 1 to the fast paced images in part 2.
In regard to the comment about the tattoo, I too believe that it symbolized the connection that people think they have with their roots. The tattoo seemed like an nostalgic piece of something that once was.
I felt that the chicks and subway scene was the most powerful part of the entire film. The entire film was one huge statement, I believe, but that part was the blunt answer to the question at hand. And that question is: what happened to society? The comparison of the chicks to the people is distinct because it shows the shift of society. I see this, too, in the tattoo the man had. That tattoo says to me: this is all I have time for, now. Not actually practicing or living a life that tattoo represents, rather that the man knows his past and accepts it, but still lives in the modern world. He is a part of a global society that focuses on piling into a subway before looking at the life their ancestors lived. It's an interesting contrast and open to interpretation because of the presentation of the film. No dialogue and little music allows the audience to focus on what they see at that moment, compare to the next scene, and see just what the filmmaker is trying to do.
This film was such a great example of a poetic documentary because I felt that I could watch it a hundred times and find some new interpretation with each viewing. I took copious amounts of notes and I still don't think I wrote down as much as I wanted to.
What I took away from the film is that we are not so different from each other as we think we are. Every society have their rituals and they are very similar to the rituals of cultures spread out throughout the world. The medium shots of the Indonesian Fire Dance really struck me. I thought about pairing that scene with shots from a football game and asking the question, "What's the difference?"
I also noticed the textures and colors the filmmaker captured. Is the filmmaker making a statement about the textures and colors of the world and their beauties? After the scenes of the fire dance we cut to various landscape scenes from the west to the cave dwellings and cave drawings to the African dances. After these scenes the movie takes a bit of a turn. Then we move to the strip mines and burning fields and the production side of life. I labeled this part of my notes as "What humans are capable of doing to each other."
Overall, I think this film shows how connected people are to each other and we don't even realize it or we choose not to.
Maybe it's just me, but this film felt like a comment on the degeneration of humanity, nature, and connectedness due to industrialized "civilization". I recognize that much of this interpretation is due to my own personal perspective, but I also think there was an undeniable comparison between humans, nature, and life in vastly different contexts and that there is a definitive vicinity of meaning intended by the filmmaker. The first part of the film was beautiful and mesmerizing, and I felt peaceful and wished to be so connected to Earth and life and others as all of these "uncivilized 'others'". As soon as the film shifted focus to factories, cities, slums, and subways, I was tense. And I agree with Paula in that scene about the chicks being one of the most powerful scenes of the entire film; that scene was horrible and brilliant. I think the chicks and the people on the subway speak deliberately to the brutality of our modern society on our bodies, our humanity, and our souls and our complacency to it. Those chicks were tossed and poked and clicked and moved along on their predetermined path so quickly that there could have been no contemplation about what was really happening to them. I think this is just as true for the people on the subway and the bustling city streets (like the aerial view scene of the city intersection in hyper-speed, where the sidewalk seems to be puking swarms of people every few seconds).
Also, I think sound played a huge role in this documentary, especially since there was no dialogue. Music seemed to primarily dictate the mood and tone of the scenes it played over, while diagetic sound was injected at specific points to create emphasis and, I think, an intentional rawness. It was almost as if to say, "Sure, I can take stunning scenes and put powerful music behind it to make you feel a certain way. But this right here is REAL, this will affect you even more just by being shown." It allowed the captured film to speak for itself and to seem loud simply because there was not music over it like there was over the rest of the film.
I can't even begin to dissect the visuals in this film. The whole thing was beautifully shot and wonderfully edited together. I can only imagine how daunting of a task it was to be in the editing room with all of this incredible footage, trying to piece it together and create such an encompassing message.
Ashley I would have to agree with you. I felt how the film maker took us from beautiful, natural, untouched nature to chaotic society; he was showing us how humans can destroy something that was once beautiful. I feel like he used different scenes as a contrast of what we have now and the beauty before. The film maker showed us the breakdown in society from the nature all the way down to the ugliest parts of society. The pictures through nature were majestic and slow, but through the city was fast paced as if we do not take the time to enjoy it. But with the view he showed who would enjoy it. This poetic form allowed me to come up with my own conclusions, without feeling like I was persuaded whether I really was or not.
For the purpose of the comparative nature of parts of the film, I’ve split the film into specific sections.
ReplyDeletePart 1-Beginning (majestic, beautiful nature) to first train scene we encounter (music speeds up)
Part 2-Train scene (fast music) to slower music (woman seemingly screaming into her hands)
Part 3-Slower music to end
1. There was a definite pattern in Fricke’s opening scenes. How did the cinematic techniques used in Part I of the film (long shot, usually from dutch angle→ followed by a medium or close shot filmed at eye-level→followed by a shot of an individual (close up) followed by a panning shot of humans) suggest meaning to the film? What was he trying to suggest about the connection between nature and human interaction in the first part? What about the second part? Third part?
2. How does the use of diagetic and non-diagetic sound shift and change throughout the film? In what ways did the audio track influence your interpretation of the film? In what ways do the movement (pacing) of the audio and visual tracks work together to establish context and develop meaning?
2a. What is symbolic about the image we see before we the first time we hear
the fast-paced music in the film (man with the tattoo on his back)? How does
that reflect on the previous section (part 1)?
3. How did the editing techniques play an important role in your interpretation of the film?
4. In what ways did the film incorporate symbols, perspective, tone/mood, motif, etc? What cinematic nuances and choices were made to help you distinguish these AND the theme or overall purpose of the film?
4a. How does this film come full-circle in its presentation? How does it not? What does this suggest about the author’s purpose? Does this film in any way contextualize the people and places presented or comment on humanity as a whole? Were there any techniques that remained consistent throughout? Did the movie have any sort of resolution?
5. Ok, I know I cheated by posting about 20 questions disguised as four. I’d also really like to know this: What did you think about the film?
To me, this film seems very much like a film with subtitles. My husband drags me to some foreign film when I would much rather see a blockbuster, and I end up not even noticing the subtitles about five minutes into the film. Even though Baraka lacked dialogue, I still felt that an unspoken narration was powerful.
If I can start with the last question (since there is quite a list there! :D), my main feeling coming out of the film was an ache to travel. I haven't traveled beyond a few hundred miles from home in my life, and while I'm saving to do so one day, that day seems a long way off. The amazing, National-Geographic-Calendar landscapes were breathtaking on their own, without considering their place in the narrative. And the scenes of the different types of worship made me feel particularly privileged-- how many people get to see that sight in their lives, even on film?
DeleteIn terms of perspective, I felt a separation of shots between the intimate and those wider in scale (that pattern you mentioned in the first question). We saw these amazing long, helicopter shots panning over incredible landscapes, and then in the next scene we transitioned to intimate close-ups, even looking deep into a few subject's eyes. (Even the monkeys! The monkeys relaxing in the hot springs really made me happy.) Similar to the contrast in scope we saw in Miles Above when we transitioned from the shot of Earth from space to the microscopic slides of ants. I feel like that this is one of a series of contrast the director/editors used to create a sense of story.
Another "contrast" would be the different sorts of "civilization" we see primarily in the middle part of the film. After a series of nature-dominated scenes in Asia, Africa, and Australia, we move to a factory setting. There's this gorgeous shot of a late, where the sky and reflection of the sky become confused as the camera flies over the water. It's this image of serenity, eternity. And then in the next moment, we see a chainsaw ripping through a tree in the rain-forest. We see a series of scenes of human "development" scarring the landscape, mining, the cigarette factory that cuts to an Asian businessman smoking one. For me, it fostered a real sense of connection.
Overall, I enjoyed the film because I was prepared to treat the movie as a poem. However, it generally doesn't take an hour and a half to read a single poem, so it was a little different to go so long without any dialogue.
It's interesting that you compared those contrasting scenes to Miles Above. This is something that I hadn't even thought of.
DeleteContinuing with that thought-we talked a bit in class for Miles Above about the disconnect between the different people in the film. I read Baraka as a statement on personal connection with nature as well as that "disconnect" between nature and its inhabitants. Fiction films seem to portray these similar ideas. (I keep coming back to movies like Avatar, or children's films like Pocahontas and The Lion King.) These films are so much more direct in what they WANT you to glean from viewing it. However,
I noticed the audio of the chainsaw (and close-up on the saw itself), then the long shot of the tree crashing down, tumbling into other trees, also. It's almost as if the director was saying "Here, we see birds in their natural habitat being disturbed. Why, you ask? Well, I'll show you-look at how this chainsaw is ripping apart this tree. Don't think it's all that bad? (I mean, after all, we need to use the wood.) Well, look at how much destruction just ONE TREE and ONE HUMAN with a chainsaw can cause. Do you REALLY need to copy ALL of those papers?"
Also, the tattoo on the man's back-it looked so much like the painted faces of the men and women in the earlier part of the film. To me, it occurred as a clear transition between those completely in touch with/functioning as "one with nature" and those completely disconnected. I appreciated it in the same way that one gets a tattoo in Chinese script, thinking it means something like "change and progress", when it actually means "coins" or "money". I believe it clearly symbolized the connection that most people BELIEVE they have with nature because they appreciate its beauty and majesty, but then have no problem tossing a cigarette butt or plastic bag on the ground. So, the transition occurs when the audio track is starting to speed up, plus this close up on the man's back.
Did anyone read it differently? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on the purpose of that clip. One thing I think we can all agree on is that each track, camera angle, editing technique, etc was used purposefully and in conjunction with all of the others to create the story.
Courtney, I liked your comparison to the scene in Miles Above. I never thought of that. You also made me think of something when you mentioned your desire to travel. I have not done a great deal of traveling, but when I have, it has often been the most unexpected things that were special. A couple of years ago my husband and I went to the Rocky Mountains. They were breathtaking in their beauty, as was Mt. Rushmore and other landmarks we saw, but the moments I most remember about that week had to do with the little cottage we stayed at, and the deer that came to our front lawn every morning. It was just a humble little cabin in an RV park in S. Dakota, nowhere near any mountains, but every morning at dawn I stook outside in my robe with a mug of strong black coffee, watching the deer, sometimes a mother and fawn, standing right by our Subaru. I still feel happy whenever I remember those solitary mornings in the early mist, alone with the deer (and the RVs!). It was so wonderful! And so it made me think that all the splendor of the exotic places we saw in the film are not exotic to the people who live there - they are just home. Most of those people have probably never been anywhere else. Their serenity comes from within. I, too, loved the white monkey with the wise gaze, so content just sitting in the water. Many individuals were shown in peaceful activity - praying, meditating, carrying baskets of food in a calm, intentional way. And then there was the man in the subway whose head was bobbing because he looked exhausted and was falling asleep. Meditation energizes, exhaustion is draining. All of this reminded me of the saying, "Wherever you go, there you are."
DeleteYou have posed a lot of thought-provoking questions. Like the seemingly random images in a poetic documentary, my thoughts are coming at me randomly.
ReplyDeleteBaraka means blessing. The film itself felt like a blessing, a gift. Startling, disturbing, beautiful images and sounds that stay with you. The film pulled the viewer in; there was a sense of being in the water, among the people, in the clouds.
The diegetic sounds of water rushing, birds singing, insects chirping, the wind blowing through the mountains all blended with the soundtrack, which at times sounded like chanting, bell ringing, screaming, sirens, and thunder and that was often indistinguishable from the diegetic sounds.
The low-angle shots of monuments and temples suggested reverence. The Dutch-angle shots of the jet slicing through the cityscape and the airplane cemetery felt disturbing. The homeless people were shot at eye level: we are they, they are we.
I was struck by the similarity of rituals among the religious ceremonies: bowing to a divinity, the wearing of like garb, worshiping in groups, dancing, chanting, waving of arms (not unlike the Serpent Handlers in the Appalachians). We are more alike than different. Also the lighting of candles, which reminded me of the Buddhist saying, “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.”
Creatures appeared in flocks: flocks of birds, flocks of deer, flocks of dead airplanes, flocks of worshipers, flocks of prostitutes.
The absence of narrative (spoken or subtitled) is in itself a motif. To explain would have been to detract from the message of the vastness of our shared existence on this planet and the things that connect and disconnect us.
In this film, ocean waves crash on rocks, clouds resemble waves, mud streams through waterfalls (while a rainbow blesses it), and birds who are flying appear to be swimming. We flinch at baby chicks on a conveyor belt but barely blink at humans funneled into the subway station or packed into an assembly line. Things are not always as they appear and yet these things, too, are real.
Caitlin, I'm so glad you mentioned the scenes with the ducks and the subways. That's the scene that probably stuck with me the most throughout the film. Since Dr. Shea mentioned paying attention to the way that certain scenes are edited together, I tried to observe that in particular, but it was most meaningful to me in that scene. Every time a duck was crushed or tossed my heart ached, but the movement of people crammed in a subway seems normal. And finally, the grow-up Chickens crammed into the cages as a "normal" part of our food industry. It might've seemed insignificant by itself, but I felt compelled to really notice my emotional response to those few scenes.
DeleteWow, Cathy! So much of what you shared had to do with the majesty of the shots and visual and audio tracks.
DeleteI really like what you wrote about "flocks". We see flocks of animals, people, chicks, prostitutes, etc. One thing that I find particularly interesting about this is how the "flocks" are interacting with each other. The people on the subway are juxtaposed with the chicks on the conveyor belt. It's almost as if you expect that people would be more interconnected, but everyone just seems to be shuffling around. They don't have any real connection to each other. I don't know why this is so surprising to me. I've been on the subways of major cities, and I recognize how disconnected everyone is. No one talks to anyone and just shuffles about their day. It's even more apparent in society with the advent of technology-people sleep, listen to music, play on their phones, read their Kindles, etc. I'm personally interested in this idea because I had an experience last weekend while traveling back from Philly to Lancaster on the train. The train was packed, so I sat down next to someone I didn't know, who was just sitting in his seat, not really focused on anything in particular. My husband often says that I can make a friend at a funeral because I want to talk to and connect with everyone I meet. I tried to strike up a conversation with this gentleman, but after a few failed attempts and grunt-like replies on his end, he put his headphones on and opened up the pamphlet about "What to do if the train crashes". (Incidentally, there was a gentleman two seats ahead who struck up a conversation with the person next to him, and ended up talking to her the entire ride to Lancaster.)
Now, I understand that not everyone is as open and chatty with anyone and everyone they meet. Maybe he was shy. Maybe he didn't care what I had to say. Maybe he was annoyed that I took up the seat where his bag was sitting. Regardless, I just feel this constant need to connect with people, as if "dealing with/understanding/making sense of life" is one of the few great equalizers in humanity. We may have different experiences, different values, different goals and lifestyles, but how can we come to understand each other, grow as people, and truly appreciate what others have to give without at least listening to them?
So, diatribe aside, what kind of statement did the flocks present? Well, a few phrases that come to mind: "We're only as strong as our weakest link", or the idea that we need to work together in order to function as a team (birds), or the idea that together we can accomplish great things (worshipers), or we need to protect each other (deer), or "Hey, even though this is a tough lot in life/situation in life, this is our common ground. We're in this together, in a way." (prostitutes) Shouldn't we be taking a hint from these first "flocks" that we're presented with instead of trying to disconnect from everything? I think most humans crave connection, in some way or another, but it's becoming increasingly unnatural and awkward to be able to have a real conversation with someone without an agenda.
To me this film felt like more of an experience than a story, and the editing of the film is what made this experience so powerful. I agree that the film can be divided into the three parts that were listed above. I didn’t know what to expect from the documentary, so when it started out serene I thought that it may continue that way for the rest of the film. The scene with the tree being cut down caught me by surprise and my tranquility quickly escalated to tension. I think that if the film were to begin with the busy subways, chicks on conveyor belts, and impoverished areas it would not have the same affect as transitioning from the majestic beginning in part 1 to the fast paced images in part 2.
ReplyDeleteIn regard to the comment about the tattoo, I too believe that it symbolized the connection that people think they have with their roots. The tattoo seemed like an nostalgic piece of something that once was.
I felt that the chicks and subway scene was the most powerful part of the entire film. The entire film was one huge statement, I believe, but that part was the blunt answer to the question at hand. And that question is: what happened to society? The comparison of the chicks to the people is distinct because it shows the shift of society. I see this, too, in the tattoo the man had. That tattoo says to me: this is all I have time for, now. Not actually practicing or living a life that tattoo represents, rather that the man knows his past and accepts it, but still lives in the modern world. He is a part of a global society that focuses on piling into a subway before looking at the life their ancestors lived. It's an interesting contrast and open to interpretation because of the presentation of the film. No dialogue and little music allows the audience to focus on what they see at that moment, compare to the next scene, and see just what the filmmaker is trying to do.
ReplyDeleteThis film was such a great example of a poetic documentary because I felt that I could watch it a hundred times and find some new interpretation with each viewing. I took copious amounts of notes and I still don't think I wrote down as much as I wanted to.
ReplyDeleteWhat I took away from the film is that we are not so different from each other as we think we are. Every society have their rituals and they are very similar to the rituals of cultures spread out throughout the world. The medium shots of the Indonesian Fire Dance really struck me. I thought about pairing that scene with shots from a football game and asking the question, "What's the difference?"
I also noticed the textures and colors the filmmaker captured. Is the filmmaker making a statement about the textures and colors of the world and their beauties? After the scenes of the fire dance we cut to various landscape scenes from the west to the cave dwellings and cave drawings to the African dances. After these scenes the movie takes a bit of a turn. Then we move to the strip mines and burning fields and the production side of life. I labeled this part of my notes as "What humans are capable of doing to each other."
Overall, I think this film shows how connected people are to each other and we don't even realize it or we choose not to.
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ReplyDeleteMaybe it's just me, but this film felt like a comment on the degeneration of humanity, nature, and connectedness due to industrialized "civilization". I recognize that much of this interpretation is due to my own personal perspective, but I also think there was an undeniable comparison between humans, nature, and life in vastly different contexts and that there is a definitive vicinity of meaning intended by the filmmaker. The first part of the film was beautiful and mesmerizing, and I felt peaceful and wished to be so connected to Earth and life and others as all of these "uncivilized 'others'". As soon as the film shifted focus to factories, cities, slums, and subways, I was tense. And I agree with Paula in that scene about the chicks being one of the most powerful scenes of the entire film; that scene was horrible and brilliant. I think the chicks and the people on the subway speak deliberately to the brutality of our modern society on our bodies, our humanity, and our souls and our complacency to it. Those chicks were tossed and poked and clicked and moved along on their predetermined path so quickly that there could have been no contemplation about what was really happening to them. I think this is just as true for the people on the subway and the bustling city streets (like the aerial view scene of the city intersection in hyper-speed, where the sidewalk seems to be puking swarms of people every few seconds).
ReplyDeleteAlso, I think sound played a huge role in this documentary, especially since there was no dialogue. Music seemed to primarily dictate the mood and tone of the scenes it played over, while diagetic sound was injected at specific points to create emphasis and, I think, an intentional rawness. It was almost as if to say, "Sure, I can take stunning scenes and put powerful music behind it to make you feel a certain way. But this right here is REAL, this will affect you even more just by being shown." It allowed the captured film to speak for itself and to seem loud simply because there was not music over it like there was over the rest of the film.
I can't even begin to dissect the visuals in this film. The whole thing was beautifully shot and wonderfully edited together. I can only imagine how daunting of a task it was to be in the editing room with all of this incredible footage, trying to piece it together and create such an encompassing message.
Ashley I would have to agree with you. I felt how the film maker took us from beautiful, natural, untouched nature to chaotic society; he was showing us how humans can destroy something that was once beautiful. I feel like he used different scenes as a contrast of what we have now and the beauty before. The film maker showed us the breakdown in society from the nature all the way down to the ugliest parts of society. The pictures through nature were majestic and slow, but through the city was fast paced as if we do not take the time to enjoy it. But with the view he showed who would enjoy it. This poetic form allowed me to come up with my own conclusions, without feeling like I was persuaded whether I really was or not.
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