Articoli di riviste sul tema "Cinéma – Technique – Anthropologie"

This article explores the use of ethnofiction, a technique emerging from the field of visual anthropology, which blends documentary and fiction filmmaking for ethnographic purposes. From Imamura Shōhei’s A Man Vanishes (Ningen jōhatsu, 1967) to Hou Hsiao Hsien’s Cafe Lumieré (Kōhi jikō, 2003), Japanese cinema, including Japan-set and Japan-associated cinema, has employed ethnofiction filmmaking techniques to alternately exploit and circumvent the structural barriers to filmmaking found in everyday life. Yet the dominant understanding in Japanese visual ethnography positions ethnofiction as an imported genre, reaching Japan through Jean Rouch and French cinema-verité. Blending visual analysis of Imamura and Hou’s ethnofiction films with an auto-ethnographic account of my own experience of four years of visual anthropology in Kansai, I interrogate the organizational barriers constructed around geographical perception and genre definition to argue for ethnofiction as a filmmaking technique that simultaneously emerged in French cinema-verité and Japanese feature filmmaking of the 1960s. Blurring the boundaries between Japanese, French, and East Asian co-production films, and between documentary and fiction genres, allows us to understand ethnofiction as a truly global innovation, with certain regional specificities.

Abstract This essay revisits Samuel Beckett’s prose text The Lost Ones by situating it within the broader contexts of anthropology and documentary cinema. The period of its composition (1965–1970) coincides with Beckett’s concentrated work for, and direct involvement in, film and television, an experience that was also reflected in his drama and prose fiction. Reading the text’s narrative voice as adopting the technique of extradiegetic voice-over—the ‘voice of God,’ a common feature of classical documentaries—the essay explores Beckett’s critique of such a representational strategy.

Deploying concepts of professional memory and communities of practice, this article draws on interviews with two generations of film projectionists in Brno in the Czech Republic to investigate the profession of film projectionist as a phenomenon at the boundaries of memory studies, sociology, social anthropology and film history. From this standpoint, a study of cinema employees’ professional memory revises and refines the concept of cinema memory as examined from the cinemagoer’s perspective. The article sets out the key tropes of projectionists’ memories and discusses them in the context of the legal background, professional status, standards of good practice and relationships within the professional community. Analysing the conditions under which the professional identity of film projectionist has been formed, it takes into account the current obsolescence of traditional screening techniques and analyses the significance of film screening quality and the related perception of the projectionist as a creator of a screening as significant motifs in projectionists’ memories.

The article discusses the methodological problems one faces while working with the feature films in research on Soviet daily urban life. In the cultural anthropology of Soviet society, three methodological concerns should be highlighted. First, feature films are rarely thought of as providing reliable data and play marginal role in anthropological research. Second, the study of Soviet cultural politics in general and feature films in particular, requires bringing diverse disciplines in humanities in a synthesis. Third, the apparent lack of specific methodological guidelines for such analysis can be explained by the ongoing controversies in the theory of cinema and competing approaches to film studies. We found that although in the anthropology of Soviet society feature films are seen as an effective instrument of culture politics, there are but a few cases of studies focusing on feature films. At the same time the expressive potential of cinema and the viewer’s perceptions make films an important source for studying daily city life. On the one hand, the visual imagery of such films contains elements of urban life that are familiar to the viewer and thus provide a context that is understandable and intuitively legible. On the other hand, through the use of various dramatic and cinematographic techniques, certain norms of urban life are established in regard to daily practices, for instance, showcasing desirable images of urban dwellers. Therefore, analysis of feature films can shed light both on the reality of urban life and on its norms constructed in accordance with the goals of culture politics. In order to distinguish these two types of representations of urban living, it is necessary to take into account the conventions of the cinematic language evolved in different periods of Soviet history; the key points of culture policy; the actual social and economic opportunities enjoyed by Soviet urban dwellers. Therefore, findings in the field of film studies, culture studies and history of Soviet society provide the necessary context for the analysis of Soviet cinema as an anthropological source. Semiotics and deconstruction are among the main approaches to the study of elements of the cinematic language and mechanisms underlying the construction of ideological messages that these elements convey. In this study, we relied on protocol schemes developed by Helmut Korte as a methodological tool for film analysis.

The article substantiates the need for a comprehensive study of the processes of the formation of Soviet identity by means of cinema in the 1920–50s. The article analyses the possibilities of feature films as a special instrument of influence, as an important semantic technology that helped to consolidate the postulates and principles of a new era in the public consciousness, and to model an impeccable image of the country. Cinema constructed a new social reality, laid the basic values of the emerging Soviet reality, formulated a civilisational super-task, created ideal behavioural patterns, gave birth to socio-cultural stereotypes and guidelines that determined the worldview, ideological, political, economic, economic, aesthetic content of the new living space; all the said instead of reflection of numerous realities of the Soviet era. The article substantiates the choice of the chronological framework of the study and gives a historiographical analysis of the problem. It reveals the cross-cutting themes of the Soviet cinema of the 1920–50s, the period that influenced the formation of a new identity. It also formulates possible approaches to the scientific understanding of the proposed topic and outlines a circle of the most promising research tasks. In particular, it notes the need for a systematic study of the methods, techniques and forms of representation of Soviet reality and everyday life by cinema in its key sociocultural models (family, everyday life, school, work, leisure, holiday, etc.) and concepts (“peoples’ friendship”, “happy Soviet Motherland”, “labour feat”, “public enemy”, “proletarian solidarity”), which acquired the qualities of the life coordinates of a Soviet person and largely determined its world outlook. The conclusion is made about the complexity, multidimensionality and multi-level nature of the proposed topic, which covers different aspects of life – everyday, historical, ideological, socio-cultural, artistic and creative ones. The choice of an interdisciplinary approach is substantiated as the optimal methodological basis for research, which combines the cognitive arsenal of history, social philosophy, cultural anthropology and history of arts.

In the years following the emergence of the Black Lives Matter movement, American cinema was looking for a way to appropriately address the issue of police brutality against people of color. Filmmakers, often inspired by real-life events, began developing stories focused on the trauma of witnessing lethal police violence. Three films released in 2018 – Blindspotting (dir. Carlos López Estrada), Monsters and Men (dir. Reinaldo Marcus Green) and The Hate U Give (dir. George Tillman Jr.)– emphasize how the aftermath of such experiences affects young people of color and their communities. This article aims to explore the role of witness testimony in trauma-centered narratives and examine how the contemporary American cinema visualizes racial trauma. To achieve that, the films will be analyzed within the context of trauma studies, including theories regarding both individual and cultural trauma. Moreover, studies focused on the socialization of Black children will help demonstrate the transgenerational impact of trauma. All three films share common motifs: they represent the psychosomatic aspects of trauma through similar cinematic techniques and see value in witness testimony, even if it requires personal sacrifices from the protagonists. They also portray parents’ worry about their children’s future within a prejudiced system and the struggle to prepare them for it. All these issues have been previously addressed in the public and academic discourse and are now being reflected in cinema. Film proves to be a suitable medium for representing trauma of witnessing police brutality and cinema will most likely remain a vital part of the debate about dismantling racist systems for years to come.

Space and place are two complex concepts in literature. These can in turn affect the course of characters, situations and the plot of story. Presently in visual media, especially in movies; a relation between nature and surroundings can be traced. Both nature and surroundings influence each other. Malayalam cinema is going through many different paths which are always open for study. Each movie in it is incomparable in plot, techniques and narration. A relation between surroundings and characters can always be drawn. Keith H. Basso is an important cultural anthropologist who found a noticeable connection between nature and human beings. Nature always creates mystery and wonder. Nature always has a great influence in the human evolution and culture formation. Tagore’s ‘The Religion of Forest’ says the link between forest and ancient Indian culture. In the same essay, Tagore represents the European belief on nature as a war between good and evil. ‘IyobintePustham’ is analysed in both these views. The forest depicted in the movie can be interpreted as a provider and protector to its character. In another sense, it mirrors the goodness and the evils in the mind of characters. Forest is an important archetype in human history and culture.

At the turn of the 1930s, the Soviet film industry actively released documentary films about life of remote regions of the country, giving its audience an opportunity to make virtual trips across the “sixth part of the Earth.” This phenomenon had a political background: unification of leading creative and scientific forces for creation of the screen image of a multi-structured, multinational, and successfully developing socialist country within the frameworks of state project “Cinema Atlas of the USSR.” The article is to introduce into scientific use an archival documentary “Jews on the Earth” (1927) directed by Abram Room, a film telling about the state program for Jewish settlement of the northern Circum-Pontic region. The socio-political, cultural, and ideological context of its creation is analyzed. The study draws on little-known visual and textual archives, as well as on data of the Soviet periodicals and excerpts from the screenwriter V.B. Shklovsky’s theoretical heritage. Due to specifics of silent cinema, the film “Jews on the Earth” is a kind of cinematic text, consisting of approximately equal number of alternating film frames and text credits written by Vladimir Mayakovsky and Lily Brick. The film story is a sequence of episodes describing agrarization of the Jewish population, its “exodus” from the destroyed miasteczkos to the fertile southern lands. In the course of the research, it becomes obvious that this film is an example of the propaganda films describing the success of early Soviet colonization projects. The method used by Abram Room when working on the “Jews on the Earth” was a creative combination of the documentary and feature film techniques, allowing the film not just to convey dry information, but also to highlight socio-cultural context of the events. The film’s significance was in its contribution to the visual chronicle of the Soviet colonization and to the development of the myth of existence of the Jewish community in the USSR. It is concluded that this film, even overcoming the frameworks of purely propagandistic narration and becoming an outstanding phenomenon of cinematographic art, remains a significant example of the visual anthropology of the Soviet period, as well as a multilayered historical source that has not lost its relevance for modern scientific study.

The author analyzes the monograph “Utopian discourse in Russian culture of the late 19th – 21st century. Literature. Painting. Cinema”. The review determines the position of this book in modern science of projective models of the future. A key aspect is the continuity of previous studies on the category of utopia, and above all, B. F. Egorov, whose memory the book is dedicated to. The transition of modern art beyond the utopian genre is noticed. This confirms the appropriateness of the discursive technique. The author emphasizes the relevance of the traditional conversation about environmental problems and expresses bewilderment at the disregard by Western philologists of Russian fiction and scientific literature. As an unquestionable advantage of the monograph, its modern anthropological approach to the psychological details of private narrative utopias is noted.

The film industry has been hit hard by the Covid-19 pandemic. The number of moviegoers continues to shrink, and now more films are shown via streaming or on-demand platforms. Drive-In Cinema is presented to provide entertainment for watching movies in the car to the public as well as helping filmmakers in Indonesia. Drive-In Cinema itself is an activity of watching movies in the car. This Drive-In cinema activity was initially not popular enough in Indonesia but has been popular in several countries. The researcher raised the issue of the drive-in cinema's marketing public relations strategy in building the company's brand image. In this case, PR marketing carried out by the Senja Alam Sutra Drive-In company, Tangerang, is to be known to the public. This study uses qualitative research methods with descriptive study methods. Data is collected by using interviews, observation, and documentation techniques. The results show that: first, the pull strategy used by Drive-In Senja is to collaborate with the mass media and actively use social media to publish engaging content. Second, the push strategy is to hold promos and get benefits from content creator followers. Third, the passing strategy used is by collaborating with MSMEs. Industri perfilman terpukul karena pandemi Covid-19. Jumlah penonton bioskop terus menyusut dan kini penayangan film lebih banyak melalui streaming atau platform on demand. Bioskop Drive-In dihadirkan dengan tujuan memberikan hiburan menonton film di dalam mobil kepada masyarakat sekaligus membantu pelaku usaha perfilman di Indonesia. Bioskop Drive-In sendiri merupakan aktivitas menonton film di dalam mobil. Aktivitas bioskop Drive- In ini awalnya belum cukup popular di Indonesia, namun sudah popular beberapa negara. Peneliti mengangkat persoalan bagaimana strategi marketing public relations bioskop drive- in dalam membangun brand image perusahaan. Dalam hal ini, marketing PR yang dilakukan perusahaan Drive-In Senja Alam Sutra, Tangerang, agar lebih dikenal masyarakat. Penelitian ini menggunakan metode penelitian kualitatif dengan metode studi deskriptif. Pengumpulan data dilakukan dengan teknik wawancara, observasi dan dokumentasi. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa: pertama, pull strategy yang digunakan Drive-In Senja adalah bekerja sama dengan media massa dan aktif menggunakan media sosial sebagai publikasi konten menarik. Kedua, push strategy yang digunakan adalah mengadakan promo-promo dan mendapatkan keuntungan dari pengikut content creator. Ketiga, pass strategy yang digunakan adalah dengan berkolaborasi bersama UMKM.

Relevance. This article examines the multifaceted influence of a cinematic work on the real life of the viewer. It is impossible to imagine your leisure time without watching any movie or TV series today. Our research focuses on the fact that the whole cinema is not only entertainment, it has a serious impact on the human psyche. At the time of such leisure, a person acquires certain value orientations, social attitudes and interests are formed, life plans and behaviors are constructed. The purpose is to assess the degree of influence of film serials on mass consciousness in modern society. Objectives: to analyze a modern multi-part cinematic work from the point of view of the formation of moral values among the younger generation; to characterize the phenomenon of a film series as a multi-part cinematic work; to characterize the phenomenon of the film series as an element of mass culture; to assess the influence of mass culture on the viewer's consciousness; to consider the phenomenon of a television series as a means of psychological influence on the recipient, and to determine the psychological mechanisms used by the communicator. Methodology. In the process of working on the study, mainly structural-diachronic, historical-biographical, hermeneutic methods, and the method of system analysis were used. Results. The results they can be used in the course of the educational process when considering issues in various courses on anthropology, philosophy of history, philosophy of culture, etc. Conclusions. In the course of the study , the following conclusions were made: watching multi-part cinematic works gives young people an idea of certain types of human behavior in society; a multi-part cinematic work or a multi-part film, we can say that this type of spectacle became the basis for the creation of a film series, its predecessor, which is why now the series is defined through the concept of a TV movie; a television series is one of the means of psychological influence through the techniques of compensatrony, identity, adaptation and counter-adaptation.

Creating films is a risky business that requires a profound understanding of audience motivation and strategies to bring them to the cinemas. In the digital era, electronic word of mouth (e-WoM) as a means to exchanging information on social media, particularly through platforms like X, plays a key role in influencing film ticket purchase decisions. e-WoM activities on X, such as tweets and retweets, serve as crucial indicators of a film's popularity. However, it is essential to note that popularity on social media is not always positive. This motivates the aim of this research, which focuses on examining the influence of e-WoM on X on the decision to purchase tickets of film "Oppenheimer." The study was conducted among the followers of @moviemenfes as the research population, with a sample size of 100 followers chosen through nonprobability sampling (specifically, purposive sampling) methods. Data were gathered through the questionnaires distribution to the sample, and data analysis was assisted by using SPSS 27th version, employing techniques such as validity testing, normality testing, reliability testing, T-test, F-test, simple linear regression analysis, Pearson's correlation test, and linearity test. The research findings indicate that e-WoM significantly influences the decision to purchase tickets for the film "Oppenheimer". Membuat film merupakan bisnis berisiko yang membutuhkan pemahaman mendalam terhadap motivasi penonton dan strategi untuk membawa mereka ke bioskop. Dalam era digital, electronic word of mouth (e-WoM) sebagai metode pertukaran informasi di media sosial, terutama melalui platform seperti X memainkan peran kunci dalam memengaruhi keputusan pembelian tiket film. Aktivitas e-WoM di X, seperti tweet, retweet, dan lainnya, menjadi penanda penting popularitas suatu film, namun perlu dicermati bahwa popularitas di media sosial tidak selalu bersifat positif, sehingga mendorong penelitian ini untuk melihat pengaruh e-WoM pada platform X terhadap keputusan pembelian tiket film "Oppenheimer". Penelitian dilakukan pada para pengikut @moviemenfes sebagai populasi penelitian, dengan jumlah sampel sebanyak 100 pengikut yang dipilih melalui metode pengambilan sampe non-probabilitas (khususnya purposive sampling). Data dikumpulkan melalui penyebaran kuesioner terhadap sampel dan proses analisis data dikerjakan menggunakan aplikasi SPSS versi 27 dengan menggunakan teknik uji validitas, uji normalitas, uji reliabilitas, uji T, uji F, uji regresi linear sederhana, uji korelasi Pearson's, dan uji linearitas. Temuan dari penelitian menunjukkan bahwa e-WoM memiliki pengaruh yang signifikan pada keputusan pembelian tiket film "Oppenheimer".

The article examined the emergence and evolution of approaches within the classical model of visual-anthropological research, known as "objective realism," which is closely associated with ethnographic cinema. The study investigated the origin of ethnographic cinema, the first theoretical programs in anthropology, and cinematographic experiences. The main aspects of Vertov's "Cine Eye" theory were explored in the context of objectivism and philosophical ideas of positivism that formed the foundation of visual-anthropological investigations in the early twentieth century. The article considered Bazin's theory of the cinematograph of reality, attempted to implement visualization without an image consistently, and led to utopian ideas within the framework of visual anthropological theory. The principle of the "detached observer" and the technique of autochthonous interpretations, exemplified by the works of Mead and Bateson, were also analyzed, ultimately forming the classical model in visual-anthropological research. The study entailed a thorough literature review and analysis of primary sources to understand the evolution of visual anthropology's approaches. The findings suggested that the classical model of visual-anthropological research, which emphasized detached observation and autochthonous interpretations, had influenced ethnographic cinema and visual anthropology. The results presented could be used to inform and develop the methodology of future visual-anthropological research. The research implications were significant for visual anthropologists and filmmakers alike, as they provided a historical and theoretical grounding for the practice of ethnographic cinema and visual anthropology, contributing to the further development of this field.

Indian films, both mainstream Bollywood (Hindi cinema) and regional films have captured issues related to caste, class and gender disparities, and have enabled directors/producers to experiment with techniques so as to challenge stereotypical representations. Tamil cinema in this context has gone through a sea change in its representation of the subaltern class. From being silent and passive sufferers, the characters on screen now raise to speak for their community and assert their identity. This article explores the representation of Dalits on visual platform and how contemporary filmmakers seek to challenge and demystify the established narratives/canon. The article further analyses the recent Tamil cinema titled Karnan (April 2021) which challenges dominant ideologies that perpetuates discrimination, objectification, exclusion and silence to sustain its power. Using the Mahabharata mythical characters and employing cinematic techniques, the film resists and subverts dominant perception which aims to silence the other.

In recent days, Tamil cinema has reached a wide range in marketing and popularity across the globe, gaining attention around the world through its style and techniques. Critics and researchers highlight and celebrate the recent changes in Tamil cinema as the ‘New Wave’. It readies to change gears in the aspects of theme, narration and choice of portraying the characters. Tamil cinema became a medium to express the voice of suppressed people. Directors pinpoint issues such as identity crisis, domestic violence and political ideologies. The issues and problems of subaltern people were totally neglected in Tamil cinema, but now they reflect reality. Witness is one of the movies on that list that discusses the pain of manual scavengers. The movie is not an emotional drama; rather, it questions society from different perspectives. It depicts the lives, sufferings and struggles of manual scavengers. The film not only raises questions but also serves as an answer to tangible questions. This paper discusses and highlights the literary works that mainly torched out the problems of manual scavengers in the present and past.

The mediatization of the public sphere leads to the intensification of the processes of intercultural interaction, which increases interest in new formats for reflecting the characteristics of the cultural and spiritual development of a person, one of which is ethnic documentary cinema. It allows you to widely represent the national cultures of different nations, immerse yourself in the world of a foreign culture, to reduce the degree of uncertainty arising from a foreign culture, to facilitate communication between ethnic groups. A functional and meaningful analysis of ethno-documentary films created by filmmakers of the Republic of Tatarstan in 2017-2019 allowed us to determine the features of the ethno-documentary genre. These include: the close connection of ethnic cinema with the development of academic anthropology and the need for a visual reflection of the life and culture of ethnic groups; focus on intercultural communication; the formation of the image of an ethnos on the basis of "internal observation", that is, the ability to be inside events and cultural traditions, which allows you to get away from distorting the picture. Considering the multinational aspect of the development of ethno-documentary in the Republic of Tatarstan, it was emphasized that one of the most important tasks of filmmakers in this context is to preserve the national image and identity, develop tolerance, strengthen interethnic harmony, foster respect for the culture, traditions and customs of different nationalities. The ethnic component of the documentary cinema of Tatarstan involves the historical reflection of national traditions inherent in a particular people, with an emphasis on reflecting in reality the original way of life, life, national and cultural traditions. The ethno-documentary of the Republic of Tatarstan is in a state of deep renewal, which is associated with the spread of the festival movement in Tatarstan, in particular, the work of the Kazan International Muslim Film Festival, which allows the formation of national reserves of ethno-documentary and gives impetus to the development of Tatarstan documentary films. We should talk about the special aesthetics of films, which largely borders on the principles of arthouse cinema, but fits into the mainstream of young Tatarstan cinema. It is based on the techniques of chronicling, films have a primarily social orientation in the spirit of “cinema-direct” (“direct cinema”), the Tatar alternative and performance. One of the leading functions of ethno-documentary is the communicative function, along with the integrative and research. Their implementation contributes to the comprehensive reflection of the national traditions of the Tatar people and peoples living in the Republic of Tatarstan.

На материале этнографического кинодокумента «Страна гольдов» классика советского кино, Амо Бек-Назарова, в статье проводится рассмотрение направления художественной документалистики как примера визуально-антропологических опытов в СССР на рубеже 1920-х – 1930-х гг. Анализируя архивные данные, дневники режиссера и свидетельства современников, автор статьи прослеживает эволюцию упомянутого кинопроекта в связи с параллельными процессами в политике и кинематографе. В изучаемый период кинематографисты СССР апробировали различные форматы визуализации этничности, конструируя советский миф об освобожденных революцией народностях нового Союза, в чем нуждалось партийное руководство. Основываясь на показательном примере творчества режиссера Амо Бек-Назарова, в статье прослеживается использование возможностей этнографического кино как ресурса по созданию эффективных для внедрения в общественный оборот экранных образов: традиционного бытования (образ «темного прошлого») и нововведений социализма (образ «светлого будущего»). Коль скоро фильм «Страна гольдов» представляет собой своеобразный кино-текст, состоящий из примерно равнозначного количества перемежающихся в повествовании кинокадров и текстовых титров, то методом анализа фильма явилась его исследовательская расшифровка – «перевод» в текстовый формат. В статье анализируется потенциал кино как формы визуальной антропологии, и фильма как многокомпонентного исторического источника, отображающего на экране культуру снимаемого и снимающего, отражающего силуэты культуры и идеологии своего времени. Делаются выводы о фильме «Страна гольдов» как многослойном историческом киноисточнике и о творческой методологии режиссера по сочетанию документальных и художественных приемов в процессе этно-кинематографической работы, как актуальной для изучения и использования в современной визуально-антропологической практике.Based on the material of the ethnographic documentary «Country of Golds» by the classic of Soviet cinema, Amo Bek-Nazarov, the article considers the direction of artistic documentary as an example of visual and anthropological experiments in the USSR at the turn of the 1920–1930s. Analyzing archival data, director’s diaries, and contemporary testimonies, the author traces the evolution of the mentioned film project in connection with parallel processes in politics and cinema. In the period under study, Soviet filmmakers tested various visualization formats of ethnicity, constructing the Soviet myth of the peoples of the new Union freed by the revolution, which the party leadership needed. Based on an illustrative example of the work of director Amo Bek-Nazarov, the article traces the use of the capabilities of ethnographic cinema as a resource for creating effective on-screen images for traditional use: traditional life (the image of the «dark past») and innovations of socialism (the image of the «bright future»). As soon as the film «Country of Golds» is a kind of film text, consisting of approximately the same number of film frames and text captions alternating in the narrative, the method of analysis of the film was its research decoding – «translation» into text format. The article analyzes the potential of the cinema as a form of visual anthropology, and the film as a multicomponent historical source that displays the culture of the film being shot and shot, reflecting the silhouettes of culture and ideology of its time. Conclusions are drawn about the film «Country of Golds» as a multi-layered historical cinema source, and about the director’s creative methodology for combining documentary and artistic techniques in the process of ethno-cinematic work, as relevant for study and use in modern visual anthropological practice.

Introduction Many examinations of magic and witchcraft in film and television focus on the gender dynamics depicted and what these can reveal about attitudes to women and power in the eras in which they were made. For example, Campbell, in Cheerfully Empowered: The Witch-Wife in Twentieth Century Literature, Television and Film draws from scholarship such as Greene's Bell, Book and Camera, Gibson's Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, and Murphy's The Suburban Gothic in American Popular Culture to suggest connections between witch-wife narratives and societal responses to feminism. Campbell explores both the allure and fear of powerful women, who are often tamed (or partially tamed) by marriage in these stories. These perspectives provide important insights into cultural imaginings of witches, and this paper aims to use anthropological perspectives to further analyse rituals, spells, and cosmologies of screen stories of magic and witchcraft, asking how these narratives have engaged with witchcraft trials, symbols of women as witches, and rituals and myths invoking goddesses. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a television series that ran for seven seasons (1997-2003), focusses on a young woman, The Slayer, who vanquishes vampires. As Abbott (1) explains, the vampires in seasons one and two are ruled by a particularly old and powerful vampire, The Master, and use prophetic language and ancient rituals. When Buffy kills The Master, the vampiric threat evolves with the character of Spike, a much younger vampire who kills The Master's successor, The Anointed One, calling for “a little less ritual and a little more fun” ('School Hard'). This scene is important to Abbott's thesis that what makes Buffy the Vampire Slayer such an effective television program is that the evil that she battles is not a product of an ancient world but the product of the real world itself. Buffy has used the past four years to painstakingly dismantle and rebuild the conventions of the vampire genre and work toward gradually disembedding the vampire/slayer dichotomy from religious ritual and superstition … what we describe as ‘evil’ is a natural product of the modern world. (Abbott 5) While distinguishing the series from earlier books and films is important, I suggest that, nonetheless, ritual and magic remain central to numerous plots in the series. Moreover, Child argues that Buffy the Vampire Slayer disrupts the male gaze of classical Hollywood films as theorised by Mulvey, not only by making the central action hero a young woman, but by offering rich, complex, and developmental narrative arcs for other characters such as Willow: a quiet fellow student at Buffy's school who initially uses her research skills with books, computers, and science to help the group. Willow’s access to knowledge about magic through Buffy's Watcher, Giles, and his library, together with her growing experience fighting with demons, leads her to teach herself witchcraft, and she and her growing magical powers, including the ability to conjure Greek goddesses such as Hecate and Diana, become central to multiple storylines in the series (Krzywinska). Corcoran, who explores teen witches in American popular culture in some depth, reflects on Willow's changes and developments in the context of problematic 'post-feminist' films of 1990s. Corcoran suggests these films offer viewers tropes of empowerment in the form of the 'makeover' of witch characters, who transform, but often in individualised ways that elude more fundamental questions of societal structures of race, class, and gender. Offering one of the most fluid and hybrid examples, Willow not only embraces magic as a conduit for power and self-expression but, as the seasons progress, she occupies a host of identificatory categories. Moving from shy high school 'geek' to trainee witch, from empowered sorceress to dark avenger, Willow regularly makes herself over in accordance with her fluctuating selfhood (Corcoran). Corcoran also notes how Willow's character brings together skills in both science and witchcraft in ways that echo world views of early modern Europe. This connects her apparently distinct selves and, I suggest, also demonstrates how the show engages with magic as real within its internal cosmology. Fairy Tale Witches This liberating, fluid, and transformative depiction of witches is not, however, the only one. Early in season one, the show reflects tropes of witchcraft found in fairy tale and fantasy films such as Snow White and The Wizard of Oz. Both films are deeply ambivalent in their portraits of fascinating powerful witches, who are, however, also defined by being old, ugly, and/or deeply jealous of and threatening towards younger women (Zipes). The episode “Witch” reproduces these patriarchal rivalries, as the witch of the episode title is the mother of a classmate of Buffy, called Amy, who has used magic to swap bodies with her daughter in an attempt to recapture her lost glory as a famous cheerleader. There are debates around the symbolism of witches and crones, especially those in fairytales, and whether they can be re-purposed. For example, Rountree in 'The New Witch of the West' and Embracing the Witch and the Goddess has conducted interviews and participant observation with feminist witches in New Zealand who use both goddess and witch symbols in their ritual practice and feminist understandings of themselves and society. By embracing both the witch and the goddess, feminist witches disrupt what they regard as false divisions and dichotomies between these symbols and the pressures of the divided self that they argue have been imposed upon women by patriarchy. In these conceptions, the crone is not only a negative symbol, but can be re-evaluated as one of three aspects of the goddess (maiden, mother, and crone), depicting the cycles of all life and also enabling women to embrace the darker aspects of their own natures and emotions (Greenwood; Rountree 'New Witch'; Walker). Witch Trials That said, Germaine, examining witches in folk horror films such as The Witch and The Wicker Man, advises caution about witch images. Drawing from Hutton's The Witch, she explores grotesque images of the witch from the early modern witch trials, arguing that horror cinema can subvert older ideas about witches, but it also reveals their continued power. Indeed, horror cinema has forged the witch into a deeply ambiguous figure that proves problematic for feminism and its project to subvert or otherwise destabilize misogynist symbols. (Germaine 22) Purkiss's examination of early modern witchcraft trials in The Witch in History also questions many assumptions about the period. Contrary to Rountree's 'The New Witch of the West' (222), Purkiss argues that there is no evidence to suggest that healing and midwifery were central concerns of witch hunters, nor were those accused of witchcraft in this period regarded as particularly sexually liberated or lesbian. Moreover, the famous Malleus Maleficarum, a text that is “still the main source for the view that witch-hunting was woman-hunting” was, in fact, disdained by many early modern authorities (Purkiss 7-8). Rather, rivalries and social tensions in communities combined with broader societal politics to generate accusations: a picture that is more in line with Stewart and Strathern's cross-cultural study, Witchcraft, Sorcery, Rumors and Gossip, of the relationship between witchcraft and gossip. In the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “Gingerbread”, Amy has matured and has begun to engage with magic herself, as has Willow. The witch trial of the episode is not, however, triggered by this, but is rather initiated by Buffy and her mother finding the bodies of two dead children. Buffy's mother Joyce quickly escalates from understandable concern to a full-on assault on magical practice and knowledge as she founds MOO (Mothers Opposed to the Occult), who raid school lockers, confiscate books from the school library, and eventually try to burn them and Buffy, Willow, and Amy. The episode evokes fairy tales because the 'big bad' is a monster who disguises itself as Hansel and Gretel. As Giles explains, fairy tales can sometimes be real, and in this case, the monster feeds a community its worst fears and thrives off the hatred and chaos that ensues. However, his references to European Wicca covens are somewhat misleading. Hutton, in The Triumph of the Moon, explains that Wicca was founded in the 1950s in England by Gerald Gardner, and claims it to be a continuation of older pagan witch traditions that have largely been discredited. The episode therefore tries to combine a comment on the irrationality and dangers of witch hunts while also suggesting that (within the cosmology of the show) magic is real. Buffy's confrontation with her mother illustrates this. Furious about the confiscation of the library's occult collection, Buffy argues that without the knowledge they contain, young people are not more protected, but rather rendered defenceless, arguing that “maybe next time the world gets sucked into hell, I won't be able to stop it because the anti-hell-sucking book isn't on the approved reading list!” Thus, she simultaneously makes a general point about knowledge as a defence against the evils of the world, while also emphasising how magic is not merely symbolic for her and her friends, but a real, practical, problem and a combatant tool. Spells Spells take considerable skill and practice to master as they are linked to strong emotions but also need mental focus and clarity. Willow's learning curve as a witch is an important illustrator of this principle, as her spells do not always do what she had intended, or rather, she is not always wise to her own intentions. These ideas are also found in anthropological examples (Greenwood). Malinowski, an anthropologist of the Trobriand Islands, theorised that spells and magical objects have their origins in gestures and words that express the emotional states and intentions of the spellcaster. Over time, these became refined and codified in a society, becoming traditional spells that can amplify, focus, and direct the magician's will (Malinowski). In the episode “Witch”, Giles demonstrates the relationship between spells and intention as, casting a spell to reverse Amy's mother's switching of their bodies, he shouts in a commanding voice 'Release!' Willow also hones skills of concentration and directing her will through the practice of pencil floating, a seemingly small magical technique that nonetheless saves her life when she is captured by enemies and narrowly escapes being bitten by a vampire by floating a pencil and staking him with it in the episode “Choices”. The pencil is also used in another episode to illustrate the importance of focus and emotional balance. Willow explains to Buffy that she is honing these skills as she gently spins a pencil in the air, but as the conversation turns to Faith (a rogue Slayer who has hurt Willow's friends), she is distracted and the pencil spins wildly out of control before flying into a tree (“Dopplegangland”). In another example, Willow tries to conjure lights that will guide her out of difficulty in a haunted house, but, unable to make up her mind about where the lights should take her, she is plagued by them multiplying and spinning in multiple directions like a swarm of insects, thereby acting as an illustrator of her refracted metal state (“Fear Itself”). The series also explores the often comical consequences when love spells are cast with unclear motives. In the episode “Bewitched Bothered and Bewildered”, Buffy's friend Xander persuades Amy to cast a love spell on Cordelia who has just broken up with him. Amy warns him that for love spells, the intention should be pure, and is worried that Xander only wants revenge on Cordelia. Predictably, the spell goes wrong, as Cordelia is immune to Xander but every other woman that comes into proximity with him is overcome with obsession for him. Fleeing hordes of women, Xander and Cordelia have the space to talk, and impressed with his efforts to try to win her back, Cordelia rekindles the relationship, defying her traditional friendship circle. In this way, the spell both does not and does work, perhaps because, although Xander thinks he wants Cordelia to be enchanted, in fact what he really wants is her genuine affection and respect. Another example of spells going amiss is in the episode “Something Blue”, when Willow responds to a break-up by reverting to magic. Despondent over her boyfriend Oz leaving town, she wants to accelerate her grieving process and heal more quickly, and casts a spell to have her will be done in order to try to make that happen. The spell, however, does not work as expected but manifests her words about other things when she speaks with passion, rendering Giles blind when she says he does not see (meaning he does not understand her plight), and in another instance of the literal interpretation of Willow’s word choices causes Buffy and the vampire Spike to stop fighting, fall in love, and become an engaged couple. The episode therefore suggests the power of words to manifest unconscious intentions. Words may also, in the Buffyverse, have power in themselves. Overbey and Preston-Matto explore the power of words in the series, using the episode “Superstar” in which Xander speaks some Latin words in front of an open book that responds by spontaneously bursting into flames. They argue that the materiality of language in Buffy the Vampire Slayer [means that] words and utterances have palpable power and their rules must be respected if they are to be wielded as weapons in the fight against evil. (Overbey and Preston Matto 73) However, in drawing upon Searle's Speech Acts they emphasise the relationship between speech acts and meaning, but there are also examples that the sounds in themselves are efficacious, even if the speaker does not understand them – for example, when Willow tries to do the ritual to restore Angel’s soul to him and explains to Oz that it does not matter if he understands the related chant as long as he says it (“Becoming part 2”). The idea that words in themselves have power is also present in the work of Stoller, an ethnographer and magical apprentice to Songhay sorcerers living in the Republic of Niger. He documents a complex and very personal engagement with magic that he found fascinating but dangerous, giving him new powers but also subjecting him to magical attacks (Stoller and Olkes). This experience helped to cultivate his interest in the often under-reported sensuous aspects of anthropology, including the power of sound in spells, which he argues has an energy that goes beyond what the word represents. Moreover, skilled magicians can 'hear' things happening to the subtle essence of a person during rituals (Stoller). Seeing Other Realities Sight is also key to numerous magical practices. Greenwood, for example, has done participant observation with UK witches, including training in the arts of visualisation. Linked to general health benefits of meditation and imaginative play, such practices are also thought to connect adepts to 'other worlds' and their associated powers (Greenwood). Later seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer also depict skills in meditation and concentration, such as in the episode “No Place Like Home”, in which Buffy, worried about her sick mother, uses a spell supposedly created by a French sixteenth-century sorcerer called 'pull the curtain back' to try to see if her mother’s illness is caused by a spell. She uses incense and a ritual circle of sand to put herself into a trance and in that altered state of consciousness sees that her sister, Dawn, was not born to her mother, but has been placed into her family by magic. In another example, in the episode “Who are You?”, Willow has begun a relationship with fellow witch Tara and wants to introduce her to Buffy. However, the rogue Slayer, Faith, has escaped and switched bodies with Buffy, and Tara realises that something is wrong. She suggests doing a spell with Willow to investigate by seeing beyond the physical world and travelling to the nether realm using astral projection. This rather beautiful scene has been interpreted as a symbolic depiction of their sexual relationship (Gibson), but it is also suggesting that, within the context of the series, alternate dimensions, and spells to transport practitioners there, are not purely symbolic. Conclusion The idea that magic, monsters, and demons in the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer act to some extent as metaphors for the challenges that young people face growing up in America is well known (Little). While this is certainly true, at least some of the multiple examples of magic in the series have clear resemblances to witchcraft in numerous social worlds. This depth is potentially exciting for viewers, but it also makes the show's more negative and ambiguous tropes more troubling. Willow and Tara's relationship can be interpreted as showing their independence and rejection of patriarchy, but Willow identifying as lesbian later in the series obscures her earlier relationships with men and her potential identification as bi-sexual, suggesting a need on the part of the show's writers to “contain her metamorphic selfhood” (Corcoran 158-159). Moreover, the identity of lesbians as witches in a vampire narrative is fraught with potentially homophobic associations and stereotypes (Wilts), and one of the few positive depictions of a lesbian relationship on television was ruined by the brutal murder of the Tara character and Willow's subsequent out-of-control magical rampage, bringing the storyline back in line with murderous clichés (Wilts; Gibson). Furthermore, storylines where Willow cannot control her powers, or they are seen as an addiction to evil, make an uncomfortable comment on women and power more generally: a point which Corcoran highlights in relation to Nancy's story in The Craft. Ultimately, representations of magic and witchcraft are representations of power, and this makes them highly significant for societal understandings of power relations, particularly given the complex relationships between witch-hunting and misogyny. The symbols of woman-as-witch have been re-appropriated by fans of witch narratives and feminists, and perhaps most intriguingly, by people who regard magical power as not only symbolic power but as a way to tap into subtle forces and other worlds. Buffy the Vampire Slayer offers something to all of these groups, but all too often reverts to patriarchal tropes. Audiences (some of whom may be magicians) await what film and television witches come next. 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London: Bloomsbury, 2023. “Choices.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 3, episode 19. Mutant Enemy Productions, 1999. Corcoran, Miranda. Teen Witches: Witchcraft and Adolescence in American Popular Culture. Cardiff: U of Wales P, 2022. The Craft. Dir. by Andrew Fleming. Columbia Pictures, 1996. “Dopplegangland.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 3, episode 16. Mutant Enemy Productions, 1999. “Fear Itself.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 4, episode 4. Mutant Enemy Productions, 1999. Germaine, Choé. “’Witches, ‘Bitches’ or Feminist Trailblazers? The Witch in Folk Horror Cinema.” Revenant (4 Mar. 2019): 22-42. Gibson, Marion. Witchcraft Myths in American Culture. Oxon: Routledge, 2007. “Gingerbread.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 3, episode 11. Mutant Enemy Productions, 1999. Greene, Heather. Bell, Book, and Camera: A Critical History of Witches in American Film and TV. Jefferson: McFarland and Company, 2018. Greenwood, Susan. Magic, Witchcraft, and the Otherworld: An Anthropology. Oxford: Berg, 2000. Hutton, Ronald. The Triumph of the Moon: A History of Modern Pagan Witchcraft. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1999. ———. The Witch: A History of Fear from Ancient Times to the Present. New Haven: Yale UP, 2017. Krzywinska, Tanya. “Hubble-Bubble, Herbs and Grimoires: Magic, Manicheanism, and Witchcraft in Buffy.” Fighting the Forces: What’s at Stake in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Eds. Rhonda V. Wilcox and David Lavery. Lanham, NY: Rowman & Littlefield, 2002. Little, Tracy. “High School Is Hell: Metaphor Made Literal in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy: Fear and Trembling in Sunnydale. Ed. James B. South. Chicago: Open Court, 2003. Malinowski, Bronislaw. “Magic, Science and Religion.” Magic, Science and Religion and Other Essays. London: Souvenir Press, 1982 [1925]. 17-92. 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Searle, John R. Speech Acts: An Essay in the Philosophy of Language. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1970. “Something Blue.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 4, episode 9. Mutant Enemy Productions, 1999. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Dir. by David Hand, Perce Pearce, William Cottrell, Larry Morey, Wilfred Jackson, and Ben Sharpsteen. Walt Disney, 1937. Stoller, Paul. The Taste of Ethnographic Things: The Senses in Anthropology. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P. Stoller, Paul, and Cheryl Olkes. In Sorcery’s Shadow: A Memoir of Apprenticeship among the Songhay of Niger. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987. Stewart, Pamela J., and Andrew Strathern. Witchcraft, Sorcery, Rumors and Gossip. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2004. “Superstar.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Created by Joss Whedon. Season 4, episode 17. Mutant Enemy Productions, 2000. The Wicker Man. Dir. by Robin Hardy. British Lion Film Corporation, 1973. The Witch. Dir. by Robert Eggers. A24, 2015 The Wizard of Oz. Dir. 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The Virtual and the Physical A wide range of ritual practices have accompanied the ‘rise of the network society’. This is witnessed in the secular and non-secular magic and mysticism that is endemic in contemporary science fiction, in war-chalking, in new forms of compulsion, neurosis and addiction, or just in the everyday use of networked technologies. Such ritual practices are often only seen as interesting diversions or attachments to the main social issues involved in networking. Indeed, some might see these diversions precisely as attempts to cope with the network society, or even to flee from its apparent technicity and reassert identity against the network (Castells). Yet many of these ritual activities suggest complex ritual engagements with the network. What happens when we consider these ‘diversions’ as central to the ongoing dynamic of networks – technical and social?I shall not be providing an anthropology of these ritual activities. Neither shall I be documenting case studies of the shamanistic, the mystical, neuroses, and so on, as all these find their accommodations with the network society. I shall only, via the work of philosopher of anthropology José Gil, give reasons for the importance of the understanding of ritual to a more general understanding of networks. For networks bring together not just copper wires, Ethernet, optic fibre and electromagnetic radiation, but also other fibres (such sinew and neurons), and other radiations (such as affects, the chemicals and hormones of the nervous system). Ritual is at the heart of this ‘bringing together’. Following Gil, I will suggest that rituals do not just facilitate network operations, they also translate and transform networks in the process. For Gil, ritual space 'has a symbolically overloaded, polysemic topography' (80) in which every site (paralleling neurons in the brain or points in the P2P network) is 'overdetermined'. This allows an over-riding of linear 'technical causality' with ritual ‘magic’, something akin to the over-riding of logical theories of cognition with theories of emergence and the superpositionality of potentials throughout the circuits of the brain or network. Within this superpositionality, symbolism is not so much a series of meanings as a series of actions. Symbols, as enacted in rituals (or in the firing of the patterns of the brain, the movement of packets through Internet), 'designate realities, they set forces into motion, they are "in the present"' (81). Gil also points out that these ritual acts are accompanied by 'particularly intense affective experience' (81). When signs are not focussed directly upon the production of meaning, but are over-determined in ritual, this is 'in order that powerful energies are released that will become the main power source for the cure'. Indeed, in ritual there is a 'regime of energies' along with the 'regimes of signs'. Moreover, the meshing of the two suggests that either term is probably inadequate to explain what is occurring. Signs form constellations of forces that partner other constellations of forces (including other signs), 'separating' or 'condensing' energy fluxes' (82), or enabling 'translation' between them (and between signs as forces). Both the flow of these forces and their translations are, of course, seldom ‘smooth’. There is rather a constant re-writing – or in the context of networks, better, re-wiring – of shifting, contingent and contesting networks of forces. The constant heterogeneous flow of forces only adds to both the intensity of networks and the drive towards more forms of active ‘translation’ found in the proliferation of rituals within networks. It is in this dialogics of intensity and translation that we find the politics of networks. This is a politics that is far from being a politics of pure information. Returning to Gil, it is not only that signs translate forces on behalf of the body. I would add that it is not only the technical nodes in general (and signs are precisely technical nodes) that translate these forces on behalf of the body. The body is itself the crucial 'operator translating signs [and forces] in the ritual'. With this devaluing of symbolic processing qua symbols (so long crucial to so many of the myths and sciences of cognition and information), the brain becomes participant in (though not director of) this bodily translation of signs - and the forces assembled and disassembled. Through, and as, networks of assembled and disassembled forces, brain/body relations and distributions are assembled and disassembled within the concatenation of brain, body and world that is technics. This occurs over the time of evolution but equally over the time of the formations of habits, in the body in general, or as weights of connection between neurons or nodes in the network. It is partnered in the formation of socio-technical evolutions, specific socio-technical assemblages and the weights according to connections between these assemblages. Of course, the more networked things are, the faster the weights of connection change. The network takes the ritual place of the gods. As Gil writes, 'the gods can do what people can't do. They can make energy circulate freely, since they embody both loose and overcoded energy, the loosest and most overcoded of all' (84). This is why we still find magic - or at least something that is effectively like magic - at the heart of any exercise of power. Indeed, the ambiguity of the relations between ‘secular’ and variations of ‘spiritualist’ magic have long been an under-recognised part of media/technological development (as recently documented with regard to the nineteenth century development of the cinema and the entertainment industries in general by Simon During, or in Chris Chesher’s notion of computers as ‘invocational media’). This is not so much a question of metaphysics versus a more directly materialist approach to technical power as a question of directing forces by the necessary means. In order for 'action to have effects…words must release forces in the body; these forces must react directly on the organs' (143). Indeed, Gil claims that it is only with the notion of 'magical-symbolic thought' that we can resolve some of the ambiguities surrounding the material operation of forces and signs, where cultural analysis quite contradictorily seems at one time to assume the priority of one, and at another time the other. Gil points out that ritual magic is precisely that which works at the border between power and discourse, force and sign. This is not an unintelligible border. Even at its apparently most disorganized in terms of its philosophical or scientific coherence (in ritual ecstasy for example), ritual magic is in reality extremely organised (although an organisation of forces and translations rather than one of stable states). As Gil writes, even the 'gestures, words, or cries of the possessed are coded' (137). Indeed, the codes involved are precisely those of possession, but of a possession by networks rather than of them (thus the legal and commercial confusion surrounding file-sharing and so on, in that networks may be undone, but they cannot be possessed). Yet if those subject to ritual – or to networks – are coded, this is not initially within a semiotic structure but within a structure of active transformations. Therefore, 'magical words are action' (84) and ritual (the rituals of science and materialist metaphysics as much as 'primitive' ritual) is an 'actual activity' (137). In ritual there is 'more than a text, more than a semiotic structure [and more than information or communication]…one had to keep in mind the link that unites forces to signs, and the investment of energy that the body imposes on symbols'. Gil's conceptual envelope for this 'more than text' is 'infralanguage'. The 'infralanguage is the [real but] abstract body' (136). I would suggest that this ‘infralanguage’ is also, at least in part, the body registering its immersion in technics – a registration that occurs before cognition, before communication. Or, it is the body – considered in the posthuman sense as any dynamic assemblage. Infralanguage is the assumed of networked engagement, perhaps the libidinal condition of the network (science fiction is clear on this – why else the fascination with plugging leads into our heads and closing our eyes to enter a different world – a different libidinal economy). Like a posture or a series of movements in rituals, infralangage is 'both learned and given' as it translates 'codes and contexts'. Moreover, as here we are talking about a networked learning (and perhaps a dynamic archive as ‘given’), we are not just talking about human learning, or the distribution of weights within the network of the brain, but also about the way that there is a distribution of weights across nodes between brain, body and world – across networks. Particularly important here are 'abstract rhythms' (Felix Guattari has labelled these 'refrains') as these are basic elements of processual structure that can cross codes and contexts, bring them together, translate them in, we could say, polyrhythms, syncopation or simple rhythmic transformation and variation. It is perhaps no wonder that computer games and music have been so central to the expansion of networks – both deal intensely with these rhythmic transformations of codes and posture at the interface of the networks of technics, brain and body. Infralanguage works with codes, bodies, the organs of the body and with a 'complicity' between 'bodily forms and the form of things'. Fibre meets fibre. The shifting investments and assemblages of the body meet a network cast precisely as the enhanced ability of technics (including technics as the human) to shift and reassemble its own investments. Again it is important to note that these investments never come together smoothly – not even, perhaps, into Baudrillard’s smooth if vapid ‘ecstasy of communication’. Rather the constant reconstitution and reassemblage of investments only adds to the intensification of the drive towards connection – and further reassemblage, translation of heterogeneous and contesting aspects of these investments. Thus reassemblage – in a parallel to ‘real-time’ media’s ongoing reformulation of time – is ongoing within networks, as the intensification of connection brought about by enhanced networking constantly reconfigures networks themselves. Infralanguage only gains more importance. It performs the necessary work with the 'condensation of energy on an exfoliated surface' (exfoliation is the opening of the body into spaces as it structurally and dynamically couples with them). Within networks surfaces are exfoliating in more and more complexity. In this ongoing reorganization there is a surprising immanence to networked cognition, situated perhaps in what Pierre Lévy has called ‘collective intelligence’. This is a technically enabled - but not technically delimited - reorganisation of cognitive forces within a heterogeneous collectivity. Lévy’s work possesses the advantage of demonstrating that, although the flow of networks is always in flux, always ‘political’, this in itself contains the positive political potential of intensity and heterogeneity. In these multi-directional flows, the collective intelligence that could emerge (but it would always be a struggle) would be a ‘fractal’ collectivity of: ‘macrosocieties, transindividual psyches of small groups, individuals, intra-individual modules (zones of the brain, unconscious ‘complexes’), agencies which traverse intra-individual modules that move between different people (sexual relations, complementary neuroses)’ (107-108). For Lévy, ‘the collective hypercortex contains … a living psychism, a sort of dynamic hypertext traversing the tensions and energies of affective qualities, conflicts, etc’. In this networked cognition, that beyond the brain seems to take up many of the functions often ascribed to the brain. And the thought that eludes the individual - the thought that for the individual is famously withdrawing in time and space even as it appears - does not elude the network or the activity of ritual magic as a working with these networks. Gil notes that in ritual, …thought coincides with being… time and space do not impede the grasping of the thing in itself - because, on the contrary, they [time and space] are organized in such as manner that they can be transformed by appropriate techniques and at the same time remain linked to their normal perception—in order to create from it the conditions of possibility and the formal framework for knowledge of the absolute. (84) What is this knowledge of the absolute through 'magic words' and rituals? It relates to 'the possibility of capturing the free forces that traverse bodies' (85). In other words, the absolute is reworked immanence rather than a totality that is given once and for all. Throughout his book Cyberculture, Lévy calls this the ethic of ‘universality without totalization’ – global coverage that is receptive to every local difference. Feedback and autopoiesis - crucial terms within many investigations of the cognitive and informational - become the very affective substance of ritual techno-magic. For Gil, ritual autopoiesis addresses the famous 'failure to understand how to know the "thing in itself"' as per Kant. For Gil, this failure is in fact a 'negative proof' of 'the success of magical-symbolic thought in capturing fleeting time in the links of its spatial representations, making it a recurrent or a cyclic system'. Perhaps it is a matter of loving the network through ritual at the junction of perceptual and world, spaces and affective or cognitive fields. I mean ‘loving’ in the sense taken up by John Scannell in M/C when he remarks that ‘graffiti writers love the city more than you ever will’. All acts of love are drenched in ritual (such as graffiti writing) because all acts of love are intense translations of forces. Perhaps those who embrace the network through ritual show others the way. Hackers, war-chalkers, technopagans utopians, perceptual experimentalists, the new techno-neurotics – all these are willing to explore the affective, intensity of the new rituals. All ‘love’ the network with all the difficulties and complexity that love implies. For them, the network is not just an information or communications conduit, but a partner in ritual becoming. Works Cited Baudrillard, Jean (1988) “L’Extase de la Communication” trans. Bernard Schutze and Caroline Schutze, in Mediamatic 3, 2:81-5. Castells, Manuel (2000) The Rise of the Network Society 2nd Edition, Oxford:Blackwell. Chesher, Chris (1996) ‘CD-ROM Multimedia's Identity Crisis’ in Media International Australia 81, August. During, Simon (2002) Modern Enchantments: The Cultural Power of Secular Magic, Cambridge MA:Harvard University Press. Gil, José (1998) Metamorphoses of the Body, trans. Stephen Muecke Minneapolis:University of Minnesota Press. Lévy, Pierre (1995) Qu’est-ce que le virtuel? La Decouverte:Paris. Lévy, Pierre (2001) Cyberculture, trans. Robert Bononno Minneapolis:University of Minnesota Press. Scannell, John (2002) 'Becoming-City: Why Graffiti Writers Love the City More than You Ever Will' in M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, 2 < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/becoming.php> (accessed June 12th, 2002). Links http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/becoming.html Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Murphie, Andrew. "When Fibre Meets Fibre " M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0308/04-fibremeetsfibre.php>. APA Style Murphie, A. (2003, Aug 26). When Fibre Meets Fibre . M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0308/04-fibremeetsfibre.php>

In his directorial debut, The Man with the Iron Fists (2012), RZA not only evokes the textual borrowing techniques he has utilised as a hip-hop producer, but also reflects the influence of filmmaker Quentin Tarantino, who has built a career upon acknowledging mainstream and cult film histories through mise-en-scene, editing, and deft characterisation. The Man with the Iron Fists was originally to coincide with Tarantino’s rebel slave narrative Django Unchained (2012), which Tarantino has discussed openly as commentary regarding race in contemporary America. In 2011, Variety reported that RZA had joined the cast of Tarantino’s anticipated Django Unchained, playing “Thaddeus, a violent slave working on a Mississippi plantation” (Sneider, “Rza Joins ‘Django Unchained’ Cast”). Django Unchained follows Tarantino’s pattern of generic and trope mixology, combining elements of the Western, blaxploitation, and buddy/road film. He famously stated: “[If] my work has anything it's that I'm taking this from this and that from that and mixing them together… I steal from everything. Great artists steal; they don't do homages” (“The Directors of Our Lifetime: In Their Own Words”). He sutures iconography from multiple films in numerous genres to form new texts that stand alone, albeit as amalgamations of references. In considering meanings attached particularly to exploitation films, this article addresses the significance of combining influences within The Man with the Iron Fists and Tarantino’s Django Unchained, and the ideological threads that emerge in fusing exploitation film aesthetics. Ultimately, these films provide a convergence not only of texts, but also of the collective identities associated with and built upon those texts, feats made possible through the filmmakers’ use of pastiche. Pastiche in Identity Formation as Subversive A reflection of the postmodern tendency towards appropriation and borrowing, pastiche is often considered less meaningful than its counterpart, parody. Fredric Jameson suggests that though pastiche and parody share commonalities (most notably the mimicry of style and mannerisms), they do so to different effects. Jameson asserts that parody mimics in an effort to mock the idiosyncrasies within a text, whereas pastiche is “neutral parody” of “dead styles” (114). In short, as Susan Hayward writes, “In its uninventiveness, pastiche is but a shadow of its former thing” (302). For Jameson, the most ubiquitous form of pastiche is the nostalgia film, which attempts to recapture the essence of the past. As examples, he points to the George Lucas films American Graffiti (1973), which is staged in the United States of the 1950s, and Star Wars (1977), which reflects the serials of the 1930s-1950s (114-115). Though scholars such as Jameson and Hayward are contemptuous of pastiche, a growing number see its potential for the subversion and critique that the aforementioned suggest it lacks. For instance, Sarah Smith reminds us that pastiche films engage in “complicitous critique”: the films maintain the trappings of original texts, yet do so in order to advance critique (209). For Smith and other scholars, such as Judith Butler and Richard Dyer, Jameson’s criticism of pastiche is dismissive, for while these scholars largely agree that pastiche is a form of mimicry in which the distance between original and copy is minimal, they recognise that a space still exists for it to be critical. Smith writes: “[W]hile there may be greater distance between the parody and its target text than there is between the pastiche and the text it imitates, a prescribed degree of distance is not a prerequisite for critical engagement with the ur-text” (210). In this regard, fidelity to the original texts is not only required but to be revered, for these likenesses to the original “act as a guarantee of the critique of those origins and provide an opportunity for the filmmaker to position [himself or herself] in relation to them” (Smith 211). Essentially, pastiche is a useful technique in which to construct hybrid identities. Keri E. Iyall Smith suggests that hybrid identities emerge from “a reflexive relationship between local and global” (3). According to popular music scholar Brett Lashua, hybrid identities “make and re-make culture through appropriating the cultural ‘raw materials’ of life in order to construct meaning in their own specific cultural localities. In a sense, they are ‘sampling’ from broader popular culture and reworking what they can take into their own specific local cultures” (“The Arts of the Remix: Ethnography and Rap”). As will be evidenced here, Tarantino utilises pastiche as an unabashed genre poacher; similarly, as a self-avowed Tarantino student and hip-hop producer known for his sampling acumen, RZA invokes pastiche to reflect mastery of his craft and a hybridised identity his multifaceted persona. Plagiarism, Poaching, and Pastiche: Tarantino Blurs Boundaries As a filmmaker, Tarantino is known for indulging in excess: violence, language, and aesthetics. Edward Gallafent characterised the director’s work as having a preoccupation with settings and journeys, violence (both emotional and physical), complicated chronological structures, and dissatisfying conclusions (3-4). Additionally, pieces of Tarantino’s cinematic fandom are inserted into his own films. Academic and popular critics continually note Tarantino’s rise as an obsessive video store clerk turned respected and eccentric auteur. Tarantino’s authorship lies mostly in his ability to borrow (or in his words, steal) narrative arcs, characterisations, and camera work from other filmmakers, and use them in ways that feel innovative and different from those past works. It is not that he borrows generally from movements, films, and filmmakers, but that he conscientiously lifts segments from works to incorporate into his text. In Postmodern Hollywood: What’s New in Film and Why It Makes Us Feel So Strange, Keith M. Booker contends that Tarantino’s work often straddles lines between simplistic reference for reference’s sake and meditations upon the roles of cinema (90). Booker dismisses claims for the latter, citing Tarantino’s unwillingness to contextualise the references in Pulp Fiction, such that the film is best described not an act of citation so much as a break with the historical. Tarantino’s lack of reverence provides him freedom to intermingle texts and tropes to fit his goals as a filmmaker, rather than working within the confines of generic narratives. Each film feels both apart and distinct from genre categories. Jackie Brown, for example, has many of the traits attached to blaxploitation, from its focus on drug culture, the casting of Pam Grier who gained status playing female leads in blaxploitation films, and extreme violence. Tarantino’s use of humour throughout, particular in his treatment of character types, plot twists, and self-aware musical cues distances the film from easy characterisation. It is, but isn’t. What is gained is a remediated conception of cinematic reality. The fictions created in films of the past are noted in Tarantino’s play with tropes. His mixes produce an extreme form of mediated reality – one that is full of excess, highly exaggerated, and completely composed of stolen frameworks. Tarantino continues his generic play in Django Unchained. While much of it does borrow heavily from 1960s and 1970s Western filmmakers like Leone, Corbucci, and Peckinpah (the significance of desolate landscapes, long takes, extreme violence), it also incorporates strands of buddy cop (partners with different backgrounds working together to correct wrongs), early blaxploitation (Broomhilda’s last name is von Shaft suggesting that she is an ancestor of blaxploitation icon John Shaft, the characterisation of Django as black antihero enacting revenge on white racists in power), and kung fu (revenge narrative, in addition to the extensive training moments between Dr. Schultz and Django). The familiar elements highlight the transgressions of genre adherence. The comfort of the western genre and its tropes eases the audience, only for Tarantino to incorporate those elements from outside the genre to spark interest, to shock, to remind audiences of the mediated reality onscreen. Tarantino has been criticised for his lack of depth and understanding regarding women and people of colour, despite his attempts to provide various leading and supporting roles for both. Django Unchained was particularly criticised for Tarantino’s use of the term nigger - over 100 instances in the film. Tarantino defended his decision by claiming historical accuracy, poetic license, and his desire to confront audiences with various levels of racism. Many, including Spike Lee, disagreed, arguing Tarantino had no claim to making a film about slavery. Lee stated through Twitter: “American Slavery Was Not A Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western. It Was A Holocaust. My Ancestors Are Slaves. Stolen From Africa. I Will Honor Them” (“Spike Lee on Django Unchained: Filmmaker Calls Movie ‘Disrespectful’”). Not only does Lee evoke the tragedy of the American slave trade and the significance of race within contemporary filmmaking, but he uses genre to underscore what he perceives is Tarantino’s lack of reverence to the issue of slavery and its aftermath in American culture. Django Unchained is both physically and emotionally brutal. The world created by Tarantino is culturally messy, as Italian composers rub elbows with black hip-hop artists, actors from films’ referenced in Django Unchained interact with new types of heroes. The amounts of references, people, and spectacles in his films have created a brand that is both hyperaware, but often critiqued as ambivalent. This is due in part to the perception of Tarantino as a filmmaker with no filter. His brand as a filmmaker is action ordered, excessive, and injected with his own fandom. He is an ultimate poacher of texts and it is this aesthetic, which has also made him a fan favourite amongst young cinephiles. Not only does he embrace the amount of play film offers, but he takes the familiar and makes it strange. The worlds he creates are hazier, darker, and unstable. Creating such a world in Django Unchained provides a lot of potential for reading race in film and American culture. He and his defenders have discussed this film as an “honest” portrayal of the effects of slavery and racial tension in the United States. This is also the world which acts as context for RZA’s The Man with the Iron Fists. Though a reference abandoned in Django Unchained, the connection between both films and both filmmakers pleasure in pastiche provide further insight to connections between film and race. Doing the Knowledge: RZA Pays Homage As a filmmaker, RZA utilises Tarantino’s filmmaking brand techniques to build his own homage and add to the body of kung-fu films. Doing so furnishes him the opportunity to rehash and reform narratives and tropes in ways that change familiar narrative structures and plot devices. In creating a film which relies on cinematic allusions to kung fu, RZA—as a fan, practitioner, and author—reconfigures kung fu from being an exploitative genre and reshapes its potential for representational empowerment. While Tarantino considers himself an unabashed thief of genre tropes, RZA envisions himself more as a student who pays homage to masters—among whom he includes Tarantino. Indeed, in an interview with MTV, RZA refers to Tarantino as his Sifu (a Chinese term for master or teacher) and credits him not only for teaching RZA about filmmaking, but also for providing him with his blessing to make his first feature length film (Downey, “RZA Recalls Learning from ‘The Master’ Quentin Tarantino”). RZA implies that mastery of one’s craft comes from incorporating influences while creating original work, not theft. For instance, he states that the Pink Blossom brothel—the locus for most of the action in the film—was inspired by the House of Blue Leaves restaurant, which functions in a similar capacity in Tarantino’s Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (“RZA Talks Sampling of Kung Fu Films for Movie & The Difference Between Biting vs. Influence”). Hip-hop is an art form in which its practitioners “partake of a discursive universe where skill at appropriating the fragments of a rapidly-changing world with verbal grace and dexterity is constituted as knowledge” (Potter 21). This knowledge draws upon not only the contemporary moment but also the larger body of recorded music and sound, both of which it “re-reads and Signifies upon through a complex set of strategies, including samplin’, cuttin’ (pastiche), and freestylin’ (improvisation)” (Potter 22). As an artist who came of age in hip-hop’s formative years and whose formal recording career began at the latter half of hip-hop’s Golden Age (often considered 1986-1993), RZA is a particularly adept cutter and sampler – indeed, as a sampler, RZA is often considered a master. While RZA’s samples run the gamut of the musical spectrum, he is especially known for sampling obscure, often indeterminable jazz and soul tracks. Imani Perry suggests that this measure of fidelity to the past is borne out of hip-hop’s ideological respect for ancestors and its inherent sense of nostalgia (54). Hallmarks of RZA’s sampling repertoire include dialog and sound effects from equally obscure kung fu films. RZA attributes his sampling of kung fu to an affinity for these films established in his youth after viewing noteworthy examples such as The 36th Chamber of Shaolin (1978) and Five Deadly Venoms (1978). These films have become a key aspect of his identity and everyday life (Gross, “RZA’s Edge: The RZA’s Guide to Kung Fu Films”). He speaks of his decision to make kung fu dialog an integral part of Wu-Tang Clan’s first album Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers): “My fantasy was to make a one-hour movie that people were just going to listen to. They would hear my movie and see it in their minds. I’d read comic books like that, with sonic effects and kung fu voices in my head. That makes it more exciting so I try to create music in the same way” (Gross, ““RZA’s Edge: The RZA’s Guide to Kung Fu Films”). Much like Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) and his other musical endeavours, The Man with the Iron Fists serves as further evidence of RZA’s hybrid identity., which sociologist Keri E. Iyall Smith suggests emerges from “a reflexive relationship between local and global” (3). According to popular music scholar Brett Lashua, hybrid identities “make and re-make culture through appropriating the cultural ‘raw materials’ of life in order to construct meaning in their own specific cultural localities. In a sense, they are ‘sampling’ from broader popular culture and reworking what they can take into their own specific local cultures” (“The Arts of the Remix: Ethnography and Rap”). The most overt instance of RZA’s hybridity is in regards to names, many of which are derived from the Gordon Liu film Shaolin and Wu-Tang (1983), in which the competing martial arts schools come together to fight a common foe. The film is the basis not only for the name of RZA’s group (Wu-Tang Clan) but also for the names of individual members (for instance, Master Killer—after the series to which the film belongs) and the group’s home base of Staten Island, New York, which they frequently refer to as “Shaolin.” The Man with the Iron Fists is another extension of this hybrid identity. Kung fu has long had meaning for African Americans particularly because these films frequently “focus narratively on either the triumph of the ‘little guy’ or ‘underdog’ or the nobility of the struggle to recognise humanity and virtue in all people, or some combination of both” (Ongiri 35). As evidence, Amy Obugo Ongiri points to films such as The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, a film about a peasant who learns martial arts at the Shaolin temple in order to avenge his family’s murder by the Manchu rulers (Ongiri 35). RZA reifies this notion in a GQ interview, where he speaks about The 36th Chamber of Shaolin specifically, noting its theme of rebellion against government oppression having relevance to his life as an African American (Pappademus, “This Movie Is Rated Wu”). RZA appropriates the humble origins of the peasant San Te (Gordon Liu), the protagonist of The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, in Thaddeus (whom RZA plays in the film), whose journey to saviour of Jungle Village begins with his being a slave in America. Indeed, one might argue that RZA’s construction of and role as Thaddeus is the ultimate realisation of the hybrid identity he has developed since becoming a popular recording artist. Just as Tarantino’s acting in his own films often reflects his identity as genre splicer and convention breaker (particularly since they are often self-referential), RZA’s portrayal of Thaddeus—as an African American, as a martial artist, and as a “conscious” human being—reflects the narrative RZA has constructed about his own life. Conclusion The same amount of play Tarantino has with conventions, particularly in characterisations and notions of heroism, is present in RZA’s Man with the Iron Fists. Both filmmakers poach from their favourite films and genres in order to create interpretations that feel both familiar and new. RZA follows Tarantino’s aesthetic of borrowing scenes directly from other films. Both filmmakers poach from films for their own devices, but in those mash-ups open up avenues for genre critique and identity formation. Tarantino is right to say that they are not solely homages, as homages honour the films in which they borrow. Tarantino and RZA do more through their poaching to stretch the boundaries of genres and films’ abilities to communicate with audiences. References “The Directors of Our Lifetime: In Their Own Words.” Empire Online. N.d. 8 May 2013 ‹http://www.empireonline.com/magazine/250/directors-of-our-lifetime/5.asp›. Booker, Keith M. Postmodern Hollywood: What’s New in Film and Why It Makes Us Feel So Strange. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2007. Downey, Ryan J. “RZA Recalls Learning from ‘The Master’ Quentin Tarantino.” MTV. 30 August 2012. 14 July 2013 ‹http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1692872/rza-man-with-the-iron-fists-quentin-tarantino.jhtml›. Gallefent, Edward. Quentin Tarantino. London: Longman. 2005. Gross, Jason. “RZA’s Edge: The RZA’s Guide to Kung Fu Films.” Film Comment. N.d. 5 June 2013 ‹http://www.filmcomment.com/article/rzas-edge-the-rzas-guide-to-kung-fu-films›. Iyall Smith, Keri E. “Hybrid Identities: Theoretical Examinations.” Hybrid Identities: Theoretical and Empirical Examinations. Ed. Keri E. Iyall Smith and Patricia Leavy. Leiden: Brill, 2008. 3-12. Jameson, Fredric. “Postmodernism and Consumer Society.” Postmodern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. London: Pluto, 1985. 111-125. Lashua, Brett. “The Arts of the Remix: Ethnography and Rap.” Anthropology Matters 8.2 (2006). 6 June 2013 ‹http://www.anthropologymatters.com›. “The Man with the Iron Fists – Who in the Cast Can F-U Up?” IronFistsMovie 21 Sep. 2012. YouTube. 8 May 2013 ‹http://youtu.be/bhJOQZFJfqA›. Pappademus, Alex. “This Movie Is Rated Wu.” GQ Nov. 2012. 6 June 2013 ‹http://www.gq.com/entertainment/movies-and-tv/201211/the-rza-man-with-the-iron-fists-wu-tang-clan›. Perry, Imani. Prophets of the Hood: Politics and Poetics in Hip Hop. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2004. Potter, Russell. Spectacular Vernaculars: Hip-Hop and the Politics of Postmodernism. Albany, NY: SUNY P, 1995. “RZA Talks Sampling of Kung Fu Films for Movie & The Difference between Biting vs. Influence.” The Well Versed. 2 Nov. 2012. 5 June 2013 ‹http://thewellversed.com/2012/11/02/video-rza-talks-sampling-of-kung-fu-films-for-movie-the-difference-between-biting-vs-influence/›. Smith, Sarah. “Lip and Love: Subversive Repetition in the Pastiche Films of Tracey Moffat.” Screen 49.2 (Summer 2008): 209-215. Snedier, Jeff. “Rza Joins 'Django Unchained' Cast.” Variety 2 Nov. 2011. 14 June 2013 ‹http://variety.com/2011/film/news/rza-joins-django-unchained-cast-1118045503/›. “Spike Lee on Django Unchained: Filmmaker Calls Movie ‘Disrespectful.’” Huffington Post 24 Dec. 2012. 14 June 2013 ‹http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/23/spike-lee-django-unchained-movie-disrespectful_n_2356729.html›. Wu-Tang Clan. Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). Loud, 1993. Filmography The 36th Chamber of Shaolin. Dir. Chia-Liang Lui. Perf. Chia Hui Lui, Lieh Lo, Chia Yung Lui. Shaw Brothers, 1978. Django Unchained. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Perf. Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Christoph Waltz. Miramax, 2012. Five Deadly Venoms. Dir. Cheh Chang. Perf. Sheng Chiang, Philip Kwok, Feng Lu. Shaw Brothers, 1978. Jackie Brown. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Perf. Pam Grier, Samuel L. Jackson, Robert Forster. Miramax, 1997. Kill Bill: Vol. 1. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Perf. Uma Thurman, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah. Miramax, 2003. The Man with the Iron Fists. Dir. RZA. Perf. RZA, Russell Crowe, Lucy Liu. Arcade Pictures, 2012. Pulp Fiction. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Perf. John Travolta, Uma Thurman, Samuel L. Jackson. Miramax, 1994. Shaolin and Wu-Tang. Dir. Chiu Hui Liu. Perf. Chiu Hui Liu, Adam Cheng, Li Ching.

Introduction: Socialism – from Eternal Reality to Passing DreamThe Year of Revolutions in 1989 presaged the end of the Cold War. For many people, it must have felt like the end of the Twentieth Century, and the 1990s a period of waiting for the Millennium. However, the 1990s was, in fact, a period of profound transformation in the post-Socialist world.In early representations of Socialism’s end, a dominant narrative was that of collapse. Dramatic events, such as the dismantling of the Berlin Wall in Germany enabled representation of the end as an unexpected moment. Senses of unexpectedness rested on erstwhile perceptions of Socialism as eternal.In contrast, the 1990s came to be a decade of revision in which thinking switched from considering Socialism’s persistence to asking, “why it went wrong?” I explore this question in relation to former-Yugoslavia. In brief, the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) was replaced through the early 1990s by six independent nation states: Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia. Kosovo came much later. In the states that were significantly ethnically mixed, the break-up was accompanied by violence. Bosnia in the 1990s will be remembered for an important contribution to the lexicon of ideas – ethnic cleansing.Revisionist historicising of the former-Yugoslavia in the 1990s was led by the scholarly community. By and large, it discredited the Ancient Ethnic Hatreds (AEH) thesis commonly held by nationalists, simplistic media commentators and many Western politicians. The AEH thesis held that Socialism’s end was a consequence of the up-swelling of primordial (natural) ethnic tensions. Conversely, the scholarly community tended to view Socialism’s failure as an outcome of systemic economic and political deficiencies in the SFRY, and that these deficiencies were also, in fact the root cause of those ethnic tensions. And, it was argued that had such deficiencies been addressed earlier Socialism may have survived and fulfilled its promise of eternity (Verdery).A third significant perspective which emerged through the 1990s was that the collapse of Socialism was an outcome of the up-swelling of, if not primordial ethnic tensions then, at least repressed historical memories of ethnic tensions, especially of the internecine violence engendered locally by Nazi and Italian Fascist forces in WWII. This perspective was particularly en vogue within the unusually rich arts scene in former-Yugoslavia. Its leading exponent was Slovenian avant-garde rock band Laibach.In this article, I consider Laibach’s career and methods. For background the article draws substantially on Alexei Monroe’s excellent biography of Laibach, Interrogation Machine: Laibach and NSK (2005). However, as I indicate below, my interpretation diverges very significantly from Monroe’s. Laibach’s most significant body of work is the cover versions of Western pop songs it recorded in the middle part of its career. Using a technique that has been labelled retroquotation (Monroe), it subtly transforms the lyrical content, and radically transforms the musical arrangement of pop songs, thereby rendering them what might be described as martial anthems. The clearest illustration of the process is Laibach’s version of Opus’s one hit wonder “Live is Life”, which is retitled as “Life is Life” (Laibach 1987).Conventional scholarly interpretations of Laibach’s method (including Monroe’s) present it as entailing the uncovering of repressed forms of individual and collective totalitarian consciousness. I outline these ideas, but supplement them with an alternative interpretation. I argue that in the cover version stage of its career, Laibach switched its attention from seeking to uncover repressed totalitarianism towards uncovering repressed memories of ethnic tension, especially from WWII. Furthermore, I argue that its creative medium of Western pop music is especially important in this regard. On the bases of ethnographic fieldwork conducted in Bosnia (University of Melbourne Human Ethics project 1544213.1), and of a reading of SFRY’s geopolitical history, I demonstrate that for many people, Western popular cultural forms came to represent the quintessence of what it was to be Yugoslav. In this context, Laibach’s retroquotation of Western pop music is akin to a broader cultural practice in the post-SFRY era in which symbols of the West were iconoclastically transformed. Such transformation served to reveal a public secret (Taussig) of repressed historic ethnic enmity within the very heart of things that were regarded as quintessentially and pan-ethnically Yugoslav. And, in so doing, this delegitimised memory of SFRY ever having been a properly functioning entity. In this way, Laibach contributed significantly to a broader process in which perceptions of Socialist Yugoslavia came to be rendered less as a reality with the potential for eternity than a passing dream.What Is Laibach and What Does It Do?Originally of the industrial rock genre, Laibach has evolved through numerous other genres including orchestral rock, choral rock and techno. It is not, however, a rock group in any conventional sense. Laibach is the musical section of a tripartite unit named Neue Slowenische Kunst (NSK) which also encompasses the fine arts collective Irwin and a variety of theatre groups.Laibach was the name by which the Slovenian capital Ljubljana was known under the Austrian Habsburg Empire and then Nazi occupation in WWII. The choice of name hints at a central purpose of Laibach and NSK in general, to explore the relationship between art and ideology, especially under conditions of totalitarianism. In what follows, I describe how Laibach go about doing this.Laibach’s central method is eclecticism, by which symbols of the various ideological regimes that are its and the NSK’s subject matter are intentionally juxtaposed. Eclecticism of this kind was characteristic of the postmodern aesthetics typical of the 1990s. Furthermore, and counterintuitively perhaps, postmodernism was as much a condition of the Socialist East as it was the Capitalist West. As Mikhail N. Epstein argues, “Totalitarianism itself may be viewed as a specific postmodern model that came to replace the modernist ideological stance elaborated in earlier Marxism” (102). However, Western and Eastern postmodernisms were fundamentally different. In particular, while the former was largely playful, ironicising and depoliticised, the latter, which Laibach and NSK may be regarded as being illustrative of, involved placing in opposition to one another competing and antithetical aesthetic, political and social regimes, “without the contradictions being fully resolved” (Monroe 54).The performance of unresolved contradictions in Laibach’s work fulfils three principal functions. It works to (1) reveal hidden underlying connections between competing ideological systems, and between art and power more generally. This is evident in Life is Life. The video combines symbols of Slovenian romantic nationalism (stags and majestic rural landscapes) with Nazism and militarism (uniforms, bodily postures and a martial musical arrangement). Furthermore, it presents images of the graves of victims of internecine violence in WWII. The video is a reminder to Slovenian viewers of a discomforting public secret within their nation’s history. While Germany is commonly viewed as a principal oppressor of Slovenian nationalism, the rural peasantry, who are represented as embodying Slovenian nationalism most, were also the most willing collaborators in imperialist processes of Germanicisation. The second purpose of the performance of unresolved contradictions in Laibach’s work is to (2) engender senses of the alienation, especially as experienced by the subjects of totalitarian regimes. Laibach’s approach in this regard is quite different to that of punk, whose concern with alienation - symbolised by safety pins and chains - was largely celebratory of the alienated condition. Rather, Laibach took a lead from seminal industrial rock bands such as Einstürzende Neubauten and Throbbing Gristle (see, for example, Walls of Sound (Throbbing Gristle 2004)), whose sound one fan accurately describes as akin to, “the creation of the universe by an angry titan/God and a machine apocalypse all rolled into one” (rateyourmusic.com). Certainly, Laibach’s shows can be uncomfortable experiences too, involving not only clashing symbols and images, but also the dissonant sounds of, for example, martial music, feedback, recordings of the political speeches of totalitarian leaders and barking dogs, all played at eardrum-breaking high volumes. The purpose of this is to provide, as Laibach state: “a ritualized demonstration of political force” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 44). In short, more than simply celebrating the experience of totalitarian alienation, Laibach’s intention is to reproduce that very alienation.More than performatively representing tyranny, and thereby senses of totalitarian alienation, Laibach and NSK set out to embody it themselves. In particular, and contra the forms of liberal humanism that were hegemonic at the peak of their career in the 1990s, their organisation was developed as a model of totalitarian collectivism in which the individual is always subjugated. This is illustrated in the Onanigram (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst), which, mimicking the complexities of the SFRY in its most totalitarian dispensation, maps out in labyrinthine detail the institutional structure of NSK. Behaviour is governed by a Constitution that states explicitly that NSK is a group in which, “each individual is subordinated to the whole” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 273). Lest this collectivism be misconceived as little more than a show, the case of Tomaž Hostnik is instructive. The original lead singer of Laibach, Hostnik committed ritual suicide by hanging himself from a hayrack, a key symbol of Slovenian nationalism. Initially, rather than mourning his loss, the other members of Laibach posthumously disenfranchised him (“threw him out of the band”), presumably for his act of individual will that was collectively unsanctioned.Laibach and the NSK’s collectivism also have spiritual overtones. The Onanigram presents an Immanent Consistent Spirit, a kind of geist that holds the collective together. NSK claim: “Only God can subdue LAIBACH. People and things never can” (NSK, Neue Slowenische Kunst 289). Furthermore, such rhetorical bombast was matched in aspiration. Most famously, in one of the first instances of a micro-nation, NSK went on to establish itself as a global and virtual non-territorial state, replete with a recruitment drive, passports and anthem, written and performed by Laibach of course. Laibach’s CareerLaibach’s career can be divided into three overlapping parts. The first is its career as a political provocateur, beginning from the inception of the band in 1980 and continuing through to the present. The band’s performances have touched the raw nerves of several political actors. As suggested above, Laibach offended Slovenian nationalists. The band offended the SFRY, especially when in its stage backdrop it juxtaposed images of a penis with Marshal Josip Broz “Tito”, founding President of the SFRY. Above all, it offended libertarians who viewed the band’s exploitation of totalitarian aesthetics as a route to evoking repressed totalitarian energies in its audiences.In a sense the libertarians were correct, for Laibach were quite explicit in representing a third function of their performance of unresolved contradictions as being to (3) evoke repressed totalitarian energies. However, as Žižek demonstrates in his essay “Why Are Laibach and NSK Not Fascists”, Laibach’s intent in this regard is counter-totalitarian. Laibach engage in what amounts to a “psychoanalytic cure” for totalitarianism, which consists of four envisaged stages. The consumers of Laibach’s works and performances go through a process of over-identification with totalitarianism, leading through the experience of alienation to, in turn, disidentification and an eventual overcoming of that totalitarian alienation. The Žižekian interpretation of the four stages has, however been subjected to critique, particularly by Deleuzian scholars, and especially for its psychoanalytic emphasis on the transformation of individual (un)consciousness (i.e. the cerebral rather than bodily). Instead, such scholars prefer a schizoanalytic interpretation which presents the cure as, respectively collective (Monroe 45-50) and somatic (Goddard). Laibach’s works and pronouncements display, often awareness of such abstract theoretical ideas. However, they also display attentiveness to the concrete realities of socio-political context. This was reflected especially in the 1990s, when its focus seemed to shift from the matter of totalitarianism to the overriding issue of the day in Laibach’s homeland – ethnic conflict. For example, echoing the discourse of Truth and Reconciliation emanating from post-Apartheid South Africa in the early 1990s, Laibach argued that its work is “based on the premise that traumas affecting the present and the future can be healed only by returning to the initial conflicts” (NSK Padiglione).In the early 1990s era of post-socialist violent ethnic nationalism, statements such as this rendered Laibach a darling of anti-nationalism, both within civil society and in what came to be known pejoratively as the Yugonostagic, i.e. pro-SFRY left. Its darling status was cemented further by actions such as performing a concert to celebrate the end of the Bosnian war in 1996, and because its ideological mask began to slip. Most famously, when asked by a music journalist the standard question of what the band’s main influences were, rather than citing other musicians Laibach stated: “Tito, Tito and Tito.” Herein lies the third phase of Laibach’s career, dating from the mid-1990s to the present, which has been marked by critical recognition and mainstream acceptance, and in contrasting domains. Notably, in 2012 Laibach was invited to perform at the Tate Modern in London. Then, entering the belly of what is arguably the most totalitarian of totalitarian beasts in 2015, it became the first rock band to perform live in North Korea.The middle part in Laibach’s career was between 1987 and 1996. This was when its work consisted mostly of covers of mainstream Western pop songs by, amongst others Opus, Queen, The Rolling Stones, and, in The Final Countdown (1986), Swedish ‘big hair’ rockers. It also covered entire albums, including a version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar. No doubt mindful of John Lennon’s claim that his band was more popular than the Messiah himself, Laibach covered the Beatles’ final album Let It Be (1970). Highlighting the perilous hidden connections between apparently benign and fascistic forms of sedentarism, lead singer Milan Fras’ snarling delivery of the refrain “Get Back to where you once belong” renders the hit single from that album less a story of homecoming than a sinister warning to immigrants and ethnic others who are out of place.This career middle stage invoked critique. However, commonplace suggestions that Laibach could be characterised as embodying Retromania, a derivative musical trend typical of the 1990s that has been lambasted for its de-politicisation and a musical conservatism enabled by new sampling technologies that afforded a forensic documentary precision that prohibits creative distortion (Reynolds), are misplaced. Several scholars highlight Laibach’s ceaseless attention to musical creativity in the pursuit of political subversiveness. For example, for Monroe, the cover version was a means for Laibach to continue its exploration of the connections between art and ideology, of illuminating the connections between competing ideological systems and of evoking repressed totalitarian energies, only now within Western forms of entertainment in which ideological power structures are less visible than in overt totalitarian propaganda. However, what often seems to escape intellectualist interpretations presented by scholars such as Žižek, Goddard and (albeit to a lesser extent) Monroe is the importance of the concrete specificities of the context that Laibach worked in in the 1990s – i.e. homeland ethno-nationalist politics – and, especially, their medium – i.e. Western pop music.The Meaning and Meaningfulness of Western Popular Culture in Former YugoslaviaThe Laibach covers were merely one of many celebrations of Western popular culture that emerged in pre- and post-socialist Yugoslavia. The most curious of these was the building of statues of icons of screen and stage. These include statues of Tarzan, Bob Marley, Rocky Balboa and, most famously, martial arts cinema legend Bruce Lee in the Bosnian city of Mostar.The pop monuments were often erected as symbols of peace in contexts of ethnic-national violence. Each was an ethnic hybrid. With the exception of original Tarzan Johnny Weismuller — an ethnic-German American immigrant from Serbia — none was remotely connected to the competing ethnic-national groups. Thus, it was surprising when these pop monuments became targets for iconoclasm. This was especially surprising because, in contrast, both the new ethnic-national monuments that were built and the old Socialist pan-Yugoslav monuments that remained in all their concrete and steel obduracy in and through the 1990s were left largely untouched.The work of Simon Harrison may give us some insight into this curious situation. Harrison questions the commonplace assumption that the strength of enmity between ethnic groups is related to their cultural dissimilarity — in short, the bigger the difference the bigger the biffo. By that logic, the new ethnic-national monuments erected in the post-SFRY era ought to have been vandalised. Conversely, however, Harrison argues that enmity may be more an outcome of similarity, at least when that similarity is torn asunder by other kinds of division. This is so because ownership of previously shared and precious symbols of identity appears to be seen as subjected to appropriation by ones’ erstwhile comrades who are newly othered in such moments.This is, indeed, exactly what happened in post-socialist former-Yugoslavia. Yugoslavs were rendered now as ethnic-nationals: Bosniaks (Muslims), Croats and Serbs in the case of Bosnia. In the process, the erection of obviously non-ethnic-national monuments by, now inevitably ethnic-national subjects was perceived widely as appropriation – “the Croats [the monument in Mostar was sculpted by Croatian artist Ivan Fijolić] are stealing our Bruce Lee,” as one of my Bosnian-Serb informants exclaimed angrily.However, this begs the question: Why would symbols of Western popular culture evoke the kinds of emotions that result in iconoclasm more so than other ethnically non-reducible ones such as those of the Partisans that are celebrated in the old Socialist pan-Yugoslav monuments? The answer lies in the geopolitical history of the SFRY. The Yugoslav-Soviet Union split in 1956 forced the SFRY to develop ever-stronger ties with the West. The effects of this became quotidian, especially as people travelled more or less freely across international borders and consumed the products of Western Capitalism. Many of the things they consumed became deeply meaningful. Notably, barely anybody above a certain age does not reminisce fondly about the moment when participation in martial arts became a nationwide craze following the success of Bruce Lee’s films in the golden (1970s-80s) years of Western-bankrolled Yugoslav prosperity.Likewise, almost everyone above a certain age recalls the balmy summer of 1985, whose happy zeitgeist seemed to be summed up perfectly by Austrian band Opus’s song “Live is Life” (1985). This tune became popular in Yugoslavia due to its apparently feelgood message about the joys of attending live rock performances. In a sense, these moments and the consumption of things “Western” in general came to symbolise everything that was good about Yugoslavia and, indeed to define what it was to be Yugoslavs, especially in comparison to their isolated and materially deprived socialist comrades in the Warsaw Pact countries.However, iconoclastic acts are more than mere emotional responses to offensive instances of cultural appropriation. As Michael Taussig describes, iconoclasm reveals the public secrets that the monuments it targets conceal. SFRY’s great public secret, known especially to those people old enough to have experienced the inter-ethnic violence of WWII, was ethnic division and the state’s deceit of the historic normalcy of pan-Yugoslav identification. The secret was maintained by a formal state policy of forgetting. For example, the wording on monuments in sites of inter-ethnic violence in WWII is commonly of the variety: “here lie the victims in Yugoslavia’s struggle against imperialist forces and their internal quislings.” Said quislings were, of course, actually Serbs, Croats, and Muslims (i.e. fellow Yugoslavs), but those ethnic nomenclatures were almost never used.In contrast, in a context where Western popular cultural forms came to define the very essence of what it was to be Yugoslav, the iconoclasm of Western pop monuments, and the retroquotation of Western pop songs revealed the repressed deceit and the public secret of the reality of inter-ethnic tension at the heart of that which was regarded as quintessentially Yugoslav. In this way, the memory of Yugoslavia ever having been a properly functioning entity was delegitimised. Consequently, Laibach and their kind served to render the apparent reality of the Yugoslav ideal as little more than a dream. ReferencesEpstein, Mikhail N. After the Future: The Paradoxes of Postmodernism and Contemporary Russian Culture. Amherst: U of Massachusettes P, 1995.Goddard, Michael. “We Are Time: Laibach/NSK, Retro-Avant-Gardism and Machinic Repetition,” Angelaki: Journal of the Theoretical Humanities 11 (2006): 45-53.Harrison, Simon. “Identity as a Scarce Resource.” Social Anthropology 7 (1999): 239–251.Monroe, Alexei. Interrogation Machine: Laibach and NSK. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2005.NSK. Neue Slowenische Kunst. Ljubljana: NSK, 1986.NSK. Padiglione NSK. Ljubljana: Moderna Galerija, 1993.rateyourmusic.com. 2018. 3 Sep. 2018 <https://rateyourmusic.com/artist/throbbing-gristle>.Reynolds, Simon. Retromania: Pop Culture’s Addiction to Its Own Past. London: Faber and Faber, 2011.Taussig, Michael. Defacement: Public Secrecy and the Labor of the Negative. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999.Verdery, Katherine. What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next? Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.Žižek, Slavoj. “Why Are Laibach and NSK Not Fascists?” 3 Sep. 2018 <www.nskstate.com/appendix/articles/why_are_laibach.php.>