Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Cinema verite”

The article presents the making of the first documentary film depicting the traumatic events of the anticommunist uprising in Poznań in June 1956 as well as the difficult fate of the documentary after it had been completed. Its authors, Tadeusz Litowczenko and Mirosław Kwieciński, composed their Poznań 1956 (1981) of two interwoven narrative lines. Archive photographs with off screen commentary make the first narrative line while cinema-verite-like interviews with the participants of historical events make the other. The film analysis is aimed to underline the formal means employed in the film to present the opposing sites of the conflict. It also focuses on the historical context from the times when film was being made in the so called ‘festival of Solidarity movement’ in the early 1980s.

<p>Artikel ini bertujuan untuk mendeskripsikan eksplorasi stilistik film <em>Keramat</em>. <em>Form</em> dan <em>style </em>dijadikan titik awal untuk mengetahui eksplorasi stilistik film. Informasi data diidentifikasi berdasarkan kesamaan dengan gerakan sinema yang mempengaruhinya. Subjektivitas sebagai pendekatan pada proses deskriptif dengan melakukan analisis interpretatif. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa <em>Cinema Verite</em> dan <em>Neorealisme Italia</em> mempengaruhi formula khas stilistik dalam film <em>Keramat, </em>terutama<em> </em>mendukung karakteristik <em>genre</em> horor meliputi: menciptakan efek menegangkan, menakutkan, dan teror, serta mewujudkan konsep realisme peristiwa yang difilmkan</p><p><strong>Kata kunci</strong>: film, <em>Keramat</em>, <em>form</em> dan <em>style</em>, stilistik, dan realisme</p><div> </div>

Resumo: Durante um bom tempo, ao discutir a linguagem cinematográfica, acreditou-se que o “olho mecânico” do cinema podia apagar a ilusão literária do estilo, do modo de contar. Bastava colocar uma câmera em uma rua e deixá-la filmando os passantes para criar uma espécie de relatório cinematográfico, de cinéma verité. A capacidade de narrar do cinema é certamente o que mais o aproxima da literatura, apesar de possuir linguagens e regras bem diferentes. Este trabalho, que é um estudo do filme Nelisita, narrativas Nyaneka, de Ruy Duarte de Carvalho, busca, primeiramente, observar o modo pelo qual o realizador recriou, em seu filme, o mito Nambalisita, narrado por Carlos Estermann na obra Cinquenta contos bantos do Sudoeste de Angola. Em seguida, aborda a representação da história, em que se inclui a análise de elementos como encenação, enquadramentos, trilha sonora e encadeamento. Tal análise objetiva elucidar a singularidade da linguagem estética utilizada por Carvalho para compor seu discurso cinematográfico, que é de valorização da resistência do mito dos ovakwanyama e de tudo o que ele representa do ponto de vista cultural para Angola

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.

The study examines the “personalness” of Hungarian creative documentary films, and compares this new kind of personalness to the one characteristic of Hungarian documentaries from the 1970s. Three traditions of Hungarian documentaries are distinguished: vérité-films, avant-guard experimental films, and tabloid cinema, adapting the heritage of direct cinéma. The argument offers a discussion of diverse interpretive conditions of personalness for each of the three trends. Films in the tabloid cinema tradition make up the decisive trend of Hungarian documentaries, offering a specific attempt at “novelification”, the introduction of a sociological sensitivity, an attempt at representing social relationships in an objective way, as well as an ambiguous flirting with forms of fiction films. With the rhetorical structuring of the theme, the countrapuntal and dialogical representation and diverse stylization techniques, contemporary documentaries shift the sociological perspective of the documentaries from the 1970s, and point to its frequently limiting nature. They change the point of departure of films close to or continuing the tradition of verité-films: the “singularity of the witness” in these films takes over the fiction of neutral/objective observation dominant in the films of the 1970s. As a result, the documentary nature of the film image is fundamentally rethought in these films.

Mentre il documentario tradizionale utilizza le immagini quali portatrici di realtà naturali - in una probatorietà che avviluppa il pensiero critico nell’illusione della pura referenzialità – il cinema di Gianikian e Ricci Lucchi apre all’idea che le immagini possano/debbano significare “ancora”. E “altro”. Se il cinema contemporaneo diviene progressivamente un giacimento di sguardi meticci le pratiche del riciclo di Gianikian e Ricci Lucchi godono di una esemplarietà unica. In essa l’analisi storico-filologica dei materiali di partenza è momento preliminare, non mero escamotage all’atto trasformativo. Origine, dispositivo, immagine, corpo sono termini in fibrillazione, piattaforme per ri-lanci ermeneutici di un’immaginazione storiografica in cui i film dimenticati ritrovano una verità contemporanea: la nuova possibilità di significazione esce dalla dimensione archeologica e indaga, e mostra, il processo che ha portato l’immagine a perdere valore. Per poi recuperarlo, facendo deflagrare nuove significazioni.

Mentre il documentario tradizionale utilizza le immagini quali portatrici di realtà naturali - in una probatorietà che avviluppa il pensiero critico nell’illusione della pura referenzialità – il cinema di Gianikian e Ricci Lucchi apre all’idea che le immagini possano/debbano significare “ancora”. E “altro”. Se il cinema contemporaneo diviene progressivamente un giacimento di sguardi meticci le pratiche del riciclo di Gianikian e Ricci Lucchi godono di una esemplarietà unica. In essa l’analisi storico-filologica dei materiali di partenza è momento preliminare, non mero escamotage all’atto trasformativo. Origine, dispositivo, immagine, corpo sono termini in fibrillazione, piattaforme per ri-lanci ermeneutici di un’immaginazione storiografica in cui i film dimenticati ritrovano una verità contemporanea: la nuova possibilità di significazione esce dalla dimensione archeologica e indaga, e mostra, il processo che ha portato l’immagine a perdere valore. Per poi recuperarlo, facendo deflagrare nuove significazioni.

Abstract In the late 1950s, a team of French-Canadian filmmakers at the National Film Board of Canada (NFB) began working in the new techniques of cinema verité (direct cinema). They focused their cameras on moments of everyday life, capturing folkloric elements of Québécois culture as well as sporting moments. One figure who appears in a number of productions is Maurice “The Rocket” Richard, star forward with the National Hockey League’s Montreal Canadiens and an iconic figure in French-Canadian society at a time when nationalist sentiments were bubbling to the surface. This paper examines two feature-length documentary films—Un jeu si simple (1964) and Peut-être Maurice Richard (1971)—as well as two short animated films—Mon numéro 9 en or (1972) and The Sweater (1980)—to consider The Rocket mediated through filmic images. It is about the myth as much as the man, seen through the filmmaker’s lens.

The title of my essay, invoking, as it does, the justifiably famous Japanese cinema verité production of Rashomon, might well strike a discordant note. My aim, however, is to clarify, not to confuse. The film describes a variety of eyewitnesses to a murder, each one of whom, infused with different motives, “saw” the event differently from the other eyewitnesses. This is little more than a modern-day version of Walter Lippmann's observations on the ideological, interest-laden nature of the formation of public opinion in modern society, but it serves us well in introducing the topic of this essay.What I am suggesting with respect to the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and what I hope to demonstrate, is that we are now experiencing a similar paradox in the sociology of knowledge.

This article studies Midi Z’s The Road to Mandalay (2016) as a cinematic representation of Deleuze’s ‘minor literature’. I argue that the film gives rise to collective utterances against social and economic hegemony, particularly in its portrayal of Burmese immigrant characters who, as Agamben’s ‘bare life’, are subject to the violence underlying the biopower of neo-liberalism. A diasporic Burmese Chinese, Midi Z adopts the convention of cinema verité and fictionalizes the social reality of the migrant Burmese community. The Road to Mandalay articulates the pathos of those who are deprived of civil rights and who, in their negotiation with the exploitation of global capitalism, manage to survive in an interstitial space. The article unpacks the way the film allegorizes such a struggle in moments of surrealist and transcendental visions.

Marceline Loridan-Ivens may be best known for her scene-stealing participation in Jean Rouch and Edgar Morin's cinema verité classic, Chronicle of a Summer (1961). However, as FQ contributing editor Joan Dupont makes manifestly clear in her evocative appreciation, Loridan-Ivens was a true force of nature; an actress, director, and writer who remained creatively active and productive throughout her long life. She was also a Holocaust survivor, who returned to her experiences in the camps through her writing and filmmaking but found a way for her trauma to coexist with an irrepressible zest for life. Through interviews with over eight of Loridan-Ivens closest friends and family members, Dupont creates a multiperspectival portrait of Loridan-Ivens, including her years of close collaboration with her life partner, director Joris Ivens.

This article analyses three fantasy sequences in contemporary Italian cinema about political terrorism in the period known as the anni di piombo (‘years of lead’). It argues that, faced with divided memories, ideologically-charged narratives of the past, political interference and the so-called Italian anomalies, film-makers have reacted by making the absence of resolution a question in its own right. The article identifies and analyses three specific approaches, each linked to a sequence from each film. The first sequence, ‘uno sfondo di verità’, focuses on Marco Tullio Giordana’s Romanzo di una strage, which navigates the absence of resolution, lamenting it but also exploiting it to force a particular version of events. The second sequence, ‘vado a dormire’, focuses on Marco Bellocchio’s Buongiorno, notte, which uses a dream sequence to fabricate a different resolution, but simultaneously underscore reality. The third sequence, ‘mea culpa’, analyses the invented confession scene in Paolo Sorrentino’s Il Divo, arguing that it employs ambiguity to find closure in imagination itself, rather than in an imagined truth. Through the micro-analyses of these texts, this article seeks to highlight a broader question about cinema’s relationship with ambiguity and mystery in modern Italian history.

Cet article vise à démontrer, à travers l’analyse croisée des deux films et de divers documents d’archives, que, davantage qu’une adaptation littéraire affichée de différents thèmes de Henry James, La chambre verte (François Truffaut, 1978) est avant tout le remake secret de Paradis perdu (Abel Gance, 1940). L’aveuglement des critiques à l’époque de la sortie du film de Truffaut invite à réfléchir à la question du secret qui, dans le sillage de la fameuse figure dans le tapis jamesienne, se fonde sur une dénégation truffaldienne et sert de pierre de touche à une ferveur cinéphile conçue sur le modèle du culte des morts mis en scène par les deux films. Ces convergences permettent de théoriser la part de la projection, au double sens de dispositif cinématographique et de processus psychique, dans l’élaboration du remake secret.

Quali e quante “Cose” hanno affollato la letteratura di fantascienza e il cinema di fantascienza, cominciando dal racconto lungo Who Goes There? di John W. Campbell e il primo film, La Cosa da un altro mondo, da esso ricavato da Christian Nyby e Howard Hawks rifatto poi da John Carpenter con il semplice titolo La Cosa? E come si arriva al quadro storico-politico dell’Italia degli anni Settanta passa attraverso il filtro della fantascienza? Perché ad esempio proprio l’Italia segnata dal potere mafioso (“Cosa Nostra”) e dal terrorismo diventa lo spazio funzionale privilegiato del «paradigma della Cosa», ossia del lacaniano «misterioso oggetto alieno non morto che cade dall’universo, un oggetto non umano ma tuttavia vivente e persino in grado di avere, spesso, una propria volontà maligna» (Žižek)? Il fantasma incombente di queste oscure, talvolta concomitanti “Cose” italiane, durature, insidiose, si manifesta in film come Perché si uccide un magistrato di Damiani, in cui il protagonista, giornalista e cineasta d’inchiesta si chiama appunto “Solaris”, come il romanzo di Lem. Si manifesta in Todo modo di Elio Petri, in Identificazione di una donna di Antonioni, infine in La Cosa di Nanni Moretti e Buongiorno, notte di Marco Bellocchio, dell’impossibilità allora come oggi di intercettare la verità fattuale, oggetto non identificato per eccellenza.

The trial of Adolf Eichmann, in 1961, is generally considered a turning point in the history of Holocaust memory because it brought the Holocaust into the public sphere for the first time as a discrete event on an international scale. In the same year, Jean Rouch and Edgar Morin's film Chronicle of a Summer appeared in France. While absent from scholarship on memory of the Nazi genocide for over forty years, Chronicle of a Summer contains a scene of Holocaust testimony that suggests the need to look beyond the Eichmann trial for alternative articulations of public Holocaust remembrance. This essay considers the juxtaposition in Chronicle of a Summer of Holocaust memory and the history of decolonization in order to rethink the “unique” place that the Holocaust has come to hold in discourses on extreme violence. The essay argues that a discourse of truth and testimony arose in French resistance to the Algerian war that shaped and was shaped by memory of the Nazi genocide.

Per l’opera di Carlo Bernari sono state coniate alcune definizioni che con felici metafore rappresentano l’attività dell’autore di Tre operai. Tra quelle che meglio convengono al suo primo romanzo, “incunabolo del neorealismo” è la più usata; meno comune, ma decisamente più inerente alla realtà dei fatti, è quella che fa riferimento alla costante, mai placata attività correttoria esercitata dall’autore fin dalle sue prime prove narrative. Per Tre operai in particolare, seguirne la genesi vuol dire entrare nella cosiddetta “officina dell’autore”, misurarne la lucidità nel togliere, nel modificare, nell’aggiungere, puntando alla massima chiarezza di una diagnosi storica e alla stretta osmosi fra verità documentale e “finzione” letteraria. Il saggio intende evidenziare le due componenti della scrittura di Bernari: l’elaborazione della realtà come rappresentazione del mondo e lo sperimentalismo stilistico ante litteram che ha portato lo scrittore non solo ad anticipare le tendenze stilistiche del secondo Novecento, a partire ovviamente dal neorealismo fino a toccare sperimentazioni neoavanguardiste, ma soprattutto, analizzando il presente, a presentire e diagnosticare crisi socio-ideologiche ancora aurorali. Nel primo caso, per valutare i meccanismi e la praxis dello scrittore, viene sviluppata l’analisi del passaggio e della trasformazione del proto-romanzo Gli stracci (1928–1930) nella versione finale di Tre operai pubblicata nel 1934, che anticipa di un decennio forme e contenuti neorealisti promossi da istanze ed esperienze del giovane scrittore nell’ambito di certe letture impegnate, in quello delle arti visive, il cinema in particolare, o a contatto, diretto o mediato, con i grandi movimenti culturali del primo Novecento. Ma se il romanzo d’esordio getta le basi di un genere che maturerà dieci anni dopo—il neorealismo—si vuole qui dimostrare il permanere nella copiosa e apparentemente versicolore produzione del sessantennio successivo di una coerenza di metodo, sottesa e perciò non sempre còlta dalla critica, e di una costante sollecitazione a percorrere nuove strade formali e ad affrontare problematiche diverse, sempre rispettando con rigore i diversi aspetti delle realtà in atto.

Статья посвящена рассмотрению культурной информации текста олонхо П. А. Ойунского «Нюргун Боотур Стремительный» в аспекте межъязыкового и межсемиотического видов перевода (в понимании Якобсона). Эпическое произведение является «сильным» текстом якутской культуры, о чем свидетельствуют популярность у носителей культуры и языка оригинала, устойчивый интерес ученых из различных областей гуманитарных знаний, высокий образовательный и культурный потенциал и регулярная переводимость средствами вербальных и невербальных семиотических систем. Тесная связь олонхо П. А. Ойунского (классического примера следования древней эпической традиции) с реальной жизнью и истинность описываемых событий делает воссозданный текст эпической литературы надежным историко-этнографическим источником информации о культуре и истории якутского народа.Важное место в информационном континууме олонхо принадлежит культурной памяти, которая представляет результат мифологизации и сакрализации прошлого, имеет коллективную природу и обеспечивает культурную идентичность коренного народа Якутии (Саха). Главной целью анализа является осмысление культурной памяти олонхо в трансязыковой и транскультурной перспективах, что способствует решению задач сохранения исторического опыта и воспоминаний якутов в текстах переводов и успешной межкультурной коммуникации. Методологической основой исследования стало понимание культурной памяти текста олонхо Ойунского как гиперединицы перевода, относительно которой принимается решение на перевод. Задачей перевода является воссоздание во вторичных текстах содержания эпического произведения, уникального культурного кода, а также помощь потенциальному читателю перевода в восприятии и понимании сложного культурного пространства олонхо. Особенности информации текста оригинала генерируют вариативность гипоединиц перевода и применение принципов ad hoc и ad libitum для их определения. Формальными носителями культурной информации и памяти и, соответственно, регулярными гипоединицами перевода являются культуронимы.Освоение текста олонхо, являющегося сложным культурным смыслом, и продолжение его «жизни» посредством невербальной семиотики, также определяют необходимость выделения единиц межсемиотического перевода. В музыке, танцах, кино и изобразительном искусстве как вторичных текстах вербального оригинала должна быть сохранена культурная память, что напрямую свидетельствует об универсальности данного вида культурной информации как единицы перевода эпической литературы. The article is devoted to the cultural information of P. A. Oyunsky olonkho “Nurgun Bootur the Swift” in the aspect of interlingual and intersemiotic types of translation (in Jakobsonean version). The epic work is a “strong” text of the Yakut culture, as evidenced by its popularity among the people of the original culture and language, the sustainable interest of scholars from various fields of humanities, its high educational and cultural potential and regular translatability by means of verbal and nonverbal semiotic systems. The close connection of the Oyunsky olonkho (classic example of following the ancient epic tradition) with the real life and the verity of the described events make the reconstructed piece of epic literature a reliable historical and ethnographic source of information about the culture and history of the Yakut people.An important place in the information continuum of olonkho belongs to the cultural memory, which is the result of mythologization and sacralization of the past, phenomenon of collective origin and ensures the cultural identity of the indigenous people of Yakutia (Sakha). The analysis main goal is to comprehend the cultural memory of olonkho in translingual and transcultural perspectives, which contributes to the task of preservation of the historical experience and memories of the Yakuts in the texts of translations and successful intercultural communication. The methodological basis of the research was the understanding of the cultural memory of Oyunsky olonkho text as hyperunit of translation, regarding which a decision for translation is made. The translation task is the recreation in secondary texts the content of an epic work, a unique cultural code, as well as assistance to a potential reader of translation in the perception and understanding of the olonkho complex cultural space. The peculiarities of the original text information generate the variability of the translation hypounits and the application of ad hoc and ad libitum principles for their determination. Culturonyms are considered to be the regular formal carries of cultural information and memory and, accordingly, hypounits of translation.The comprehension of olonkho text, which is a complex cultural sense, and the continuation of its “life” through nonverbal semiotics, also influence on the necessity of determination the units of intersemiotics translation. The cultural memory must be preserved in music, dance, cinema and pictorial arts as secondary texts of the verbal original, which directly demonstrates the universality of this type of cultural information as a unit of translation of epic literature.

THE 21st INTERNATIONAL ISTANBUL FILM FESTIVAL took place on 13-28 April 2002 and presented twelve films in the international competition with an overriding theme of the world of the art and the artist. From France, Ma femme est une actrice (My Wife is an Actress) by Yvan Attal explored the dilemmas of a sports writer whose wife was a famous actress. An actor in real life and married to a famous actress, Charlotte Gainsbourg (the daughter of actress /singer Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, the enfant terrible of the seventies music scene), Attal drew inspiration from his own experiences in this warm comedy about the fragile male ego. The fact that Charlotte played the leading role added a certain dimension of cinema verite to the film. From China, Zuotian (Quitting), the third feature of Zhang Yang (Shower, 1999) was a sensitive rendition of the harrowing experience of the late...

ABSTRAKPenyutradaraan karya film dokumenter potret ini ialah untuk memberikan gambaran kehidupan seorang mantan petinju nasional dan petarung Pencak Dor di Kediri bernama Michael ‘Speed’ Sigarlaki, memperkenalkan adanya tarung Pencak Dor kepada masyarakat sekaligus menberikan cerminan buruknya kualitas tinju di Indonesia.Objek penciptaan karya film dokumenter ini ialah tarung Pencak Dor Kediri dan Michael ‘Speed’ Sigarlaki. Karya ini dikemas menggunakan struktur bertutur tematis serta menerapkan gaya penceritaan cinema verite dan expository. Film Michael Speed banyak menggunakan handheld camera dan diegetic sound untuk merekam aktifitas subjeknya, subjek terkadang berbicara langsung ke arah kamera, dan di beberapa bagian digunakan juga metode wawancara untuk memperkuat informasi kepada penonton. Pembahasan mengenai kisah hidup Michael Speed dalam memperjuangkan eksistensinya di dunia tarung dikemas ke dalam karya tugas akhir berbentuk film dokumenter potret dengan judul karya ilmiah Eksistensi Mantan Petinju Nasional Sebagai Petarung Pencak Dor Kediri Melalui Film Dokumenter Potret “Michael Speed”. Perwujudan karya film dokumenter potret Michael Speed dikemas ke dalam 3 segmen pembahasan diantaranya, segmen 1 berisi pengenalan tarung Pencak Dor dan tokoh petarung bernama Michael Sigarlaki, segmen 2 membahas eksistensi serta konflik batin Michael Sigarlaki sebagai petarung Pencak Dor profesional, dan segmen 3 menjadi penutup yang menampilkan nilai-nilai humanisme dalam diri Michael Sigarlaki sebagai kepala keluarga. Kata kunci: Penyutradaraan; Dokumenter Potret; Eksistensi Petarung Pencak Dor Kediri Michael Speed ABSTRACTThe directing of this portrait documentary is to provide an overview of the life of a former national boxer and the Pencak Dor fighter in Kediri named Michael ' Speed ' Sigarlaki, introducing the existence of Pencak Dor to the community while giving the poor reflection of the quality of boxing in Indonesia.The object of the creation of this documentary film is fighting Pencak Dor Kediri and Michael ' Speed ' Sigarlaki. The work is packed using a thematic structure and applies storytelling-style cinema verite and expository. The Film Michael Speed used a lot of handheld cameras and diegetic sound to record the activities of his subjects, the subjects sometimes spoke directly towards the camera, and in some parts used also the interview method to reinforce the information to the audience. The discussion on the life story of Michael Speed in the fight for his existence in the world of fighting is packed into the work of the end-task in the form of portrait documentary with the title of former national boxer existence as a combatant Pencak Dor Kediri through the portrait documentary "Michael Speed". The embodiment of the portrait documentary film Michael Speed is packed into three discussion segments, segment 1 contains the introduction of Pencak Dor's fighting and the warrior figure Michael Sigarlaki, Segment 2 discusses the existence and inner conflict of Michael Sigarlaki as a professional Pencak Dor fighter, and Segment 3 is the cover showing the values of humanism in Michael Sigarlaki as the head of Key words: Direction; Documentary Portraits; "The existence of Pencak Dor Kediri Fighter Michael Speed"

Songs That Never End (2019) is a fascinating, compelling, and mesmerizing film. It focuses on seemingly small events inside small spaces to pose big questions about how people struggle with the hand that history has dealt them in a time of devastation, dispossession, and displacement. Filmed in cinema verité style, yet brilliantly shot, framed, and paced by director, camera operator, and interviewer Yehuda Sharim, Songs That Never End revolves around the everyday life experiences, events, injuries, and aspirations of an Iranian immigrant family living in a small apartment in Houston. Across nearly two hours of cinema, it sutures together a series of short scenes that convey chaos and unpredictability in the lives of these refugees who never find refuge, these exiles for whom exile never ends.

This article outlines the main discussions around punk aesthetics and the culture of commodification, tracing the methods of punk's canonization back to the two early films that have been considered within the documentary genre and described as ‘transparent’ mainly due to their low-budget conditions: The Punk Rock Movie (Don Letts, 1978) and The Blank Generation (Amos Poe and Ivan Král, 1976). As this ‘punk cinema’ canon stems from a larger standardization of punk history, this article firstly presents the criticisms around the dominant narratives in the discourse around punk and the role of subjectivity in their writing. Drawing from deconstructive perspectives that give room to think about the relationship between punk and representation beyond the canon, I look at the ignored aspects of early punk cinema that involve a reliance on the cinematic referential codes of the heteronormative gaze, echoing the media sensationalism of the time. The Punk Rock Movie’s overlooked cinematic engagement with the media representations of punk and The Blank Generation’s approximation to cinema verité are both analysed in relation to how they textually engage with the ‘immediacy’ of the environment. In this analysis, the abundance of concert and archive footage comes across as an overriding effect in the reception of the two films. Expanding on Stacy Thompson’s adoption of Roland Barthes’s textual analysis in theorizing punk cinema, this article reconnects with what is actually ‘self-reflexive’ about these films as well as aiming to uncover how their overshadowing sense of transparency is constructed.

"Ambush", the first episode of ER's fourth season began amid much publicity and excitement. The premiere, though scripted, was filmed 'live' using two handheld cameras and broadcast simultaneously across America's east coast. The episode was then rerecorded for the west coast. The effect of this new format was to capture an incredibly large audience, yet perhaps a more interesting effect was the blurring of the borders between fiction and reality on television. Indeed this episode superimposed documentary techniques onto a fictional genre, causing a lack of distinction. It is interesting to examine "Ambush" in terms of style, narrative and voice to determine the effects of the new format. "Ambush" adopts the camera techniques of cinema verité, a documentary style which emerged in the 1950s. The invention of the 16 mm handheld camera and synchronised sound meant that events could be filmed as they occurred, 'live' . The result of this new technology was shaky camera work, poor framing and focusing which suggested that the camera point of view was an immediate form of 'reality' (Kuhn 73). Since this time, the technology involved in the production of documentary has improved, enabling smoother camera work. Yet the general principles and overall style of cinema verité are still adopted. Kuhn (76) suggests that this camera style has become a naturalised set of codes, a substitute evidence for the 'truth'. ER uses cinema verité camera techniques in the construction of liveness and immediacy. Badly focused scenes and jolting camera shots abound. Yet this style is not jarring, it is strangely suited to the genre of medical television and in fact adds to the sense of momentum and character instability. However a more disturbing effect is also present. As the sense of 'reality' is heightened, the actors in the show who play doctors and nurses move closer to becoming social actors who are doctors and nurses -- the viewer can almost believe that George Clooney is really Doug Ross. One argument which may be posited against the construction of 'reality' in "Ambush" is the use of narrative. ER, though it uses open ended closure, seems to conform to Classical Hollywood narrative structure of goal orientated causality (Bordwell). The 'live' episode is no different. It may be argued that the use of narrative in this episode mitigates the effects of the construction of 'reality'. Yet this does not occur. The audience still understands this episode in terms of its sense of the here and now without being hindered by the scripted plot. Indeed Winston (118) suggests that logical causation is an inherent part of human behaviour and a diluted form of the Classical Hollywood narrative may be projected onto the documentary form without any adverse effects to the perception of reality. Thus it seems that this episode of ER closely follows the documentary form. Even ethical issues, such as the intervention of the filmmaker are considered when the camera operator questions a medical decision made by Dr. Kerry. However the audience is still conscious that this episode is firmly rooted in the realm of fiction. Perhaps this awareness is due to an underlying difference between the documentary and fictional forms -- voice (Nichols 166). Classical Hollywood realism places its emphasis on the process of achieving a goal through narrative, whereas documentary uses voice to produce an ideological argument about the social world (Nichols 166). In this episode, ER does little to form an overriding argument for the narrative. It is merely interested in the narrative goals of making patients better and helping characters overcome emotional struggles. Indeed argument is difficult to produce without voice. Voice, which constructs an argument, is woven into the text by the filmmaker who is often the camera operator. In a sense, ER appears to produce voice, the subjective perspective of the filmmaker. Yet the filmmakers -- two camera operators, Agi and Stuart Orton -- are fictional. Thus these people cannot really produce voice as they have no true perspective on the events and therefore cannot construct a 'real' argument. The true filmmakers are the writers of ER and they produce narrative, not voice. In conclusion, the 'live' episode of ER has transformed the boundaries of fiction by using a naturalised documentary style. This new form may be considered transgressive, "a flagrant flaunting of broken rules, smashed conventions, fragmented surfaces" (Martin 23). Admittedly some programmes such as Homicide: Life on the Street have been using a diluted form of this camera style for some time now. Shows such as these emphasise drama and action and the documentary form can heighten this sense of excitement and liveness, if not actuality. "Ambush" has epitomised this new transgressive form. Thus, even if it did not succeed in producing the true effects of 'reality', ER certainly attained new levels of TV fascination. In the words of one Internet writer: "Wow, that was interesting!" (Hollifield). References Bordwell, David. Narration in Fiction Film. U.S.A.: Wisconsin U.P., 1985. Hollifield, Scott. Summary/review of "Ambush", by Carol Flint. ER. 1997. 16 July 97 <http://www.digiserve.com/er/erambush.htm>. Kuhn, A. "The Camera I, Observations on Documentary." Screen 19.2 (1978): 71-83. Martin, Adrian. "Stretch TV." XPress: Popular Culture 1.1 (1985): 22-3. Nichols, Bill. Representing Reality: Issues and Concepts in Documentary. Indiana: Indiana U.P., 1991. Winston, Brian. Claiming the Real: The Documentary Film Revisited. London: British Film Institute, 1995. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Felicity Meakins. "Err, New Boundaries for Fiction?! ER's 'Live' Episode." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1.1 (1998). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9807/er.php>. Chicago style: Felicity Meakins, "Err, New Boundaries for Fiction?! ER's 'Live' Episode," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1, no. 1 (1998), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9807/er.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Felicity Meakins. (1998) Err, new boundaries for fiction?! ER's 'live' episode. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1(1). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9807/er.php> ([your date of access]).

Este trabalho tem como objetivo elaborar uma interface entre filosofia e cinema a partir de uma análise temática do filme "Negação" (2016) sob o viés do verbete Filosofia da História de Daniel Little (2016); o que faremos através de uma síntese da trama que envolve dois escritores: a professora Deborah Lipstadt, historiadora; e David Irving, autor negacionista do Holocausto. Utilizaremos como fontes a obra Negação, da Professora Lipstadt, bem como o bestseller Hitler’s War (1977), do Irving. Focaremos nos argumentos apresentados por Irving, quais sejam: Hitler não sabia da “Solução Final”, e quando soube tentou evitá-la; nenhuma pessoa foi executada nos campos de extermínio nazistas e, por fim, o que conhecemos como Holocausto não aconteceu. Os compararemos com três conceitos desenvolvidos por Little (2016) em seu verbete mencionado: o papel do historiador, os critérios de verificação que atestam suas "verdades" e a possibilidade de neutralidade na pesquisa, analisando o filme à luz da obra de ambos os autores. Concluímos que Irving se distancia do viés História da Filosofia e que sua argumentação é baseada em deturpações de documentos históricos, especulações infundadas e sua vontade pessoal de que fosse verdade. Palavras-chave: Historiografia, Negação do Holocausto, Antissemitismo. Historiography and Holocaust Denial: The Case Lipstadt vs. Irving Abstract: This work aims to elaborate an interface between historiography and cinematography based on a thematic analysis of the film "Negação" (2016) under the bias of the entry Philosophy of History by Daniel Little (2016); what we will do through a synthesis of the plot that involves two writers: professor Deborah Lipstadt, historian; and David Irving, author and Holocaust denialist. We will use as sources the book Negação (2017), by Professor Lipstadt, as well as the bestseller Hitler’s War (1977), by Irving. We will focus on the arguments presented by Irving, namely: Hitler did not know about the “Final Solution”, and when he did he tried to avoid it; no one was executed in the Nazi death camps and, finally, what we know as the Holocaust did not happen. We will compare them with three concepts developed by Little (2016) in his mentioned entry: the role of the historian, the verification criteria that attest to his "truths" and the possibility of neutrality in the research, analyzing the film in the light of the work of both authors . We conclude that Irving distances himself from the History of Philosophy bias and that his argument is based on misrepresentations of historical documents, unfounded speculations and his personal desire for it to be true. Keywords: Historiography, Holocaust Denial, Antisemitism.

Did you see the videos where the cat jumps in the box, attacks the printer or tries to leap from the snowy car? As the availability and popularity of watching videos on the Internet has risen rapidly in the last decade, so has the prevalence of cat videos. Although the cuteness of YouTube videos of cats might make them appear frivolous, in fact there is a significant irony at their heart: online cat videos enable corporate surveillance of viewers, yet viewers seem just as oblivious to this as the cats featured in the videos. Towards this end, I consider the distinguishing features of contemporary cat videos, focusing particularly on their narrative structure and mode of observation. I compare cat videos with the “Aesthetic of Astonishment” of early cinema and with dog videos, to explore the nexus of a spectatorship of thrills and feline performance. In particular, I highlight a unique characteristic of these videos: the cats’ unselfconsciousness. This, I argue, is rare in a consumer culture dominated by surveillance, where we are constantly aware of the potential for being watched. The unselfconsciousness of cats in online videos offers viewers two key pleasures: to imagine the possibility of freedom from surveillance, and to experience the power of administering surveillance as unproblematic. Ultimately, however, cat videos enable viewers to facilitate our own surveillance, and we do so with the gleeful abandon of a kitten jumping in a tissue box What Distinguishes Cat Videos? Cat videos have become so popular, that they generate millions of views on YouTube, and the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis now holds an annual Internet Cat Video Festival. If you are not already a fan of the genre, the Walker’s promotional videos for the festival (2013 and 2012) provide an entertaining introduction to the celebrities (Lil Bub, Grumpy Cat, and Henri), canon (dancing cats, surprised cat, and cat falling off counter), culture and commodities of online cat videos, despite repositioning them into a public exhibition context. Cats are often said to dominate the internet (Hepola), despite the surprise of Internet inventor Tim Berners-Lee. Domestic cats are currently the most popular pet in the world (Driscoll), however they are already outnumbered by smartphones. Cats have played various roles in our societies, cultures and imaginations since their domestication some 8-10,000 years ago (Driscoll). A potent social and cultural symbol in mythology, art and popular culture, the historical and cultural significance of cats is complex, shifting and often contradictory. They have made their way across geographic, cultural and class boundaries, and been associated with the sacred and the occult, femininity and fertility, monstrosity and domesticity (Driscoll, Rogers). Cats are figured as both inscrutable and bounteously polysemic. Current representations of cats, including these videos, seem to emphasise their sociability with humans, association with domestic space, independence and aloofness, and intelligence and secretiveness. I am interested in what distinguishes the pleasures of cat videos from other manifestations of cats in folklore and popular culture such as maneki-neko and fictional cats. Even within Internet culture, I’m focusing on live action cat videos, rather than lolcats, animated cats, or dog videos, though these are useful points of contrast. The Walker’s cat video primer also introduces us to the popular discourses accounting for the widespread appeal of these videos: cats have global reach beyond language, audiences can project their own thoughts and feelings onto cats, cats are cute, and they make people feel good. These discourses circulate in popular conversation, and are promoted by YouTube itself. These suggestions do not seem to account for the specific pleasures of cat videos, beyond the predominance of cats in culture more broadly. The cat videos popular on the Internet tend to feature several key characteristics. They are generated by users, shot on a mobile device such as a phone, and set in a domestic environment. They employ an observational mode, which Bill Nichols has described as a noninterventionist type of documentary film associated with traditions of direct cinema and cinema verite, where form and style yields to the profilmic event. In the spirit of their observational mode, cat videos feature minimal sound and language, negligible editing and short duration. As Leah Shafer notes, cat videos record, “’live’ events, they are mostly shot by ‘amateurs’ with access to emerging technologies, and they dramatize the familiar.” For example, the one-minute video Cat vs Printer comprises a single, hand-held shot observing the cat, and the action is underlined by the printer’s beep and the sounds created by the cat’s movements. The patterned wallpaper suggests a domestic location, and the presence of the cat itself symbolises domesticity. These features typically combine to produce impressions of universality, intimacy and spontaneity – impressions commonly labelled ‘cute’. The cat’s cuteness is also embodied in its confusion and surprise at the printer’s movements: it is a simpleton, and we can laugh at its lack of understanding of the basic appurtenances of the modern world. Cat videos present minimalist narratives, focused on an instant of spectacle. A typical cat video establishes a state of calm, then suddenly disrupts it. The cat is usually the active agent of change, though chance also frequently plays a significant role. The pervasiveness of this structure means that viewers familiar with the form may even anticipate a serendipitous event. The disruption prompts a surprising or comic effect for the viewer, and this is a key part of the video’s pleasure. For example, in Cat vs Printer, the establishing scenario is the cat intently watching the printer, a presumably quotidian scene, which escalates when the cat begins to smack the moving paper. The narrative climaxes in the final two seconds of the video, when the cat strikes the paper so hard that the printer tray bounces, and the surprised cat falls off its stool. The video ends abruptly. This disruption also takes the viewer by surprise (at least it does the first time you watch it). The terse ending, and lack of resolution or denouement, encourages the viewer to replay the video. The minimal narrative effectively builds expectation for a moment of surprise. These characteristics of style and form typify a popular body of work, though there is variation, and the millions of cat videos on YouTube might be best accounted for by various subgenres. The most popular cat videos seem to have the most sudden and striking disruptions as well as the most abrupt endings. They seem the most dramatic and spontaneous. There are also thousands of cat videos with minor disruptions, and some with brazenly staged events. Increasingly, there is obvious use of postproduction techniques, including editing and music. A growing preponderance of compilations attests to the videos’ “spreadability” (Jenkins, Ford, and Green). The conventional formal structure of these videos effectively homogenises the cat, as if there is a single cat performing in millions of videos. Indeed, YouTube comments often suggest a likeness between the cat represented in the video and the commenter’s own cat. In this sense, the cuteness so readily identified has an homogenising effect. It also has the effect of distinguishing cats as a species from other animals, as it confounds common conceptions of all (other) animals as fundamentally alike in their essential difference from the human (animal). Cat videos are often appreciated for what they reveal about cats in general, rather than for each cat’s individuality. In this way, cat videos symbolise a generic feline cuteness, rather than identify a particular cat as cute. The cats of YouTube act “as an allegory for all the cats of the earth, the felines that traverse myths and religions, literature and fables” (Derrida 374). Each cat swiping objects off shelves, stealing the bed of a dog, leaping onto a kitchen bench is the paradigmatic cat, the species exemplar. Mode of Spectatorship, Mode of Performance: Cat Videos, Film History and Dog Videos Cat videos share some common features with early cinema. In his analysis of the “Aesthetic of Astonishment,” which dominated films until about 1904, film historian Tom Gunning argues that the short, single shot films of this era are characterised by exciting audience curiosity and fulfilling it with visual shocks and thrills. It is easy to see how this might describe the experience of watching Cat vs Printer or Thomas Edison’s Electrocution of an Elephant from 1903. The thrill of revelation at the end of Cat vs Printer is more significant than the minimal narrative it completes, and the most popular videos seem to heighten this shock. Further, like a rainy afternoon spent clicking the play button on a sequence of YouTube’s suggested videos, these early short films were also viewed in variety format as a series of attractions. Indeed, as Leah Shafer notes, some of these early films even featured cats, such as Professor Welton’s Boxing Cats from 1894. Each film offered a moment of spectacle, which thrilled the modern viewer. Gunning argues that these early films are distinguished by a particular relationship between spectator and film. They display blatant exhibitionism, and address their viewer directly. This highlights the thrill of disruption: “The directness of this act of display allows an emphasis on the thrill itself – the immediate reaction of the viewer” (Gunning “Astonishment” 122). This is produced both within the staging of the film itself as players look directly at the camera, and by the mode of exhibition, where a showman primes the audience verbally for a moment of revelation. Importantly, Gunning argues that this mode of spectatorship differs from how viewers watch narrative films, which later came to dominate our film and television screens: “These early films explicitly acknowledge their spectator, seeming to reach outwards and confront. Contemplative absorption is impossible here” (“Astonishment” 123). Gunning’s emphasis on a particular mode of spectatorship is significant for our understanding of pet videos. His description of early cinema has numerous similarities with cat videos, to be sure, but seems to describe more precisely the mode of spectatorship engendered by typical dog videos. Dog videos are also popular online, and are marked by a mode of performance, where the dogs seem to present self-consciously for the camera. Dogs often appear to look at the camera directly, although they are probably actually reading the eyes of the camera operator. One of the most popular dog videos, Ultimate dog tease, features a dog who appears to look into the camera and engage in conversation with the camera operator. It has the same domestic setting, mobile camera and short duration as the typical cat video, but, unlike the cat attacking the printer, this dog is clearly aware of being watched. Like the exhibitionistic “Cinema of Attractions,” it is marked by “the recurring look at the camera by [canine] actors. This action which is later perceived as spoiling the realistic illusion of the cinema, is here undertaken with brio, establishing contact with the audience” (Gunning “Attractions” 64). Dog videos frequently feature dogs performing on command, such as the countless iterations of dogs fetching beverages from refrigerators, or at least behaving predictably, such as dogs jumping in the bath. Indeed, the scenario often seems to be set up, whereas cat videos more often seem to be captured fortuitously. The humour of dog videos often comes from the very predictability of their behaviour, such as repeatedly fetching or rolling in mud. In an ultimate performance of self-consciousness, dogs even seem to act out guilt and shame for their observers. Similarly, baby videos are also popular online and were popular in early cinema, and babies also tend to look at the camera directly, showing that they are aware of bring watched. This emphasis on exhibitionism and modes of spectatorship helps us hone in on the uniqueness of cat videos. Unlike the dogs of YouTube, cats typically seem unaware of their observers; they refuse to look at the camera and “display their visibility” (Gunning “Attractions,” 64). This fits with popular discourses of cats as independent and aloof, untrainable and untameable. Cat videos employ a unique mode of observation: we observe the cat, who is unencumbered by our scrutiny. Feline Performance in a World of Pervasive Surveillance This is an aesthetic of surveillance without inhibition, which heightens the impressions of immediacy and authenticity. The very existence of so many cat videos online is a consequence of camera ubiquity, where video cameras have become integrated with common communications devices. Thousands of cameras are constantly ready to capture these quotidian scenes, and feed the massive economy of user-generated content. Cat videos are obviously created and distributed by humans, a purposeful labour to produce entertainment for viewers. Cat videos are never simply a feline performance, but a performance of human interaction with the cat. The human act of observation is an active engagement with the other. Further, the act of recording is a performance of wielding the camera, and often also through image or voice. The cat video is a companion performance, which is part of an ongoing relationship between that human and that other animal. It carries strong associations with regimes of epistemological power and physical domination through histories of visual study, mastery and colonisation. The activity of the human creator seems to contrast with the behaviour of the cat in these videos, who appears unaware of being watched. The cats’ apparent uninhibited behaviour gives the viewer the illusion of voyeuristically catching a glimpse of a self-sufficient world. It carries connotations of authenticity, as the appearance of interaction and intervention is minimised, like the ideal of ‘fly on the wall’ documentary (Nichols). This lack of self-consciousness and sense of authenticity are key to their reception as ‘cute’ videos. Interestingly, one of the reasons that audiences may find this mode of observation so accessible and engaging, is because it heeds the conventions of the fourth wall in the dominant style of fiction film and television, which presents an hermetically sealed diegesis. This unselfconscious performance of cats in online videos is key, because it embodies a complex relationship with the surveillance that dominates contemporary culture. David Lyon describes surveillance as “any focused attention to personal details for the purposes of influence, management, or control” (“Everyday” 1) and Mark Andrejevic defines monitoring as “the collection of information, with or without the knowledge of users, that has actual or speculative economic value” (“Enclosure” 297). We live in an environment where social control is based on information, collected and crunched by governments, corporations, our peers, and ourselves. The rampancy of surveillance has increased in recent decades in a number of ways. Firstly, technological advances have made the recording, sorting and analysis of data more readily available. Although we might be particularly aware of the gaze of the camera when we stand in line at the supermarket checkout or have an iPhone pointed at our face, many surveillance technologies are hidden points of data collection, which track our grocery purchases, text messages to family and online viewing. Surveillance is increasingly mediated through digital technologies. Secondly, surveillance data is becoming increasingly privatised and monetised, so there is strengthening market demand for consumer information. Finally, surveillance was once associated chiefly with institutions of the state, or with corporations, but the process is increasingly “lateral,” involving peer-to-peer surveillance and self-surveillance in the realms of leisure and domestic life (Andrejevic “Enclosure,” 301). Cat videos occupy a fascinating position within this context of pervasive surveillance, and offer complex thrills for audiences. The Unselfconscious Pleasures of Cat Videos Unselfconsciousness of feline performance in cat videos invites contradictory pleasures. Firstly, cat videos offer viewers the fantasy of escaping surveillance. The disciplinary effect of surveillance means that we modify our behaviour based on a presumption of constant observation; we are managed and manipulated as much by ourselves as we are by others. This discipline is the defining condition of industrial society, as described by Foucault. In an age of traffic cameras, Big Brother, CCTV, the selfie pout, and Google Glass, modern subjects are oppressed by the weight of observation to constantly manage their personal performance. Unselfconsciousness is associated with privacy, intimacy, naivety and, increasingly, with impossibility. By allowing us to project onto the experience of their protagonists, cat videos invite us to imagine a world where we are not constantly aware of being watched, of being under surveillance by both human beings and technology. This projection is enabled by discourse, which constructs cats as independent and aloof, a libertarian ideal. It provides the potential for liberation from technologized social surveillance, and from the concomitant self-discipline of our docile bodies. The uninhibited performance of cats in online videos offers viewers the prospect that it is possible to live without the gaze of surveillance. Through cat videos, we celebrate the untameable. Cats model a liberated uninhibitedness viewers can only desire. The apparent unselfconsciousness of feline performance is analogous to Derrida’s conception of animal nakedness: the nudity of animals is significant, because it is a key feature which distinguishes them from humans, but at the same time there is no sense of the concept of nakedness outside of human culture. Similarly, a performance uninhibited by observation seems beyond humans in contemporary culture, and implies a freedom from social expectations, but there is also little suggestion that cats would act differently if they knew they were observed. We interpret cats’ independence as natural, and take pleasure in cats’ naturalness. This lack of inhibition is cute in the sense that it is attractive to the viewer, but also in the sense that it is naïve to imagine a world beyond surveillance, a freedom from being watched. Secondly, we take pleasure in the power of observing another. Surveillance is based on asymmetrical regimes of power, and the position of observer, recorder, collator is usually more powerful than the subject of their gaze. We enjoy the pleasure of wielding the unequal gaze, whether we hit the “record” button ourselves or just the “play” button. In this way, we celebrate our capacity to contain the cat, who has historically proven conceptually uncontainable. Yet, the cats’ unselfconsciousness means we can absolve ourselves of their exploitation. Looking back at the observer, or the camera, is often interpreted as a confrontational move. Cats in videos do not confront their viewer, do not resist the gaze thrown on them. They accept the role of subject without protest; they perform cuteness without resistance. We internalise the strategies of surveillance so deeply that we emulate its practices in our intimate relationships with domestic animals. Cats do not glare back at us, accusingly, as dogs do, to remind us we are exerting power over them. The lack of inhibition of cats in online videos means that we can exercise the power of surveillance without confronting the oppression this implies. Cat videos offer the illusion of watching the other without disturbing it, brandishing the weapon without acknowledging the violence of its impact. There is a logical tension between these dual pleasures of cat videos: we want to escape surveillance, while exerting it. The Work of Cat Videos in ‘Liquid Surveillance’ These contradictory pleasures in fact speak to the complicated nature of surveillance in the era of “produsage,” when the value chain of media has transformed along with traditional roles of production and consumption (Bruns). Christian Fuchs argues that the contemporary media environment has complicated the dynamics of surveillance, and blurred the lines between subject and object (304). We both create and consume cat videos; we are commodified as audience and sold on as data. YouTube is the most popular site for sharing cat videos, and a subsidiary of Google, the world’s most visited website and a company which makes billions of dollars from gathering, collating, storing, assessing, and trading our data. While we watch cat videos on YouTube, they are also harvesting information about our every click, collating it with our other online behaviour, targeting ads at us based on our specific profile, and also selling this data on to others. YouTube is, in fact, a key tool of what David Lyon calls “liquid surveillance” after the work of Zygmunt Bauman, because it participates in the reduction of millions of bodies into data circulating at the service of consumer society (Lyon “Liquid”). Your views of cats purring and pouncing are counted and monetised, you are profiled and targeted for further consumption. YouTube did not create the imbalance of power implied by these mechanisms of surveillance, but it is instrumental in automating, amplifying, and extending this power (Andrejevic “Lateral,” 396). Zygmunt Bauman argues that in consumer society we are increasingly seduced to willingly subject ourselves to surveillance (Lyon “Liquid”), and who better than the cute kitty to seduce us? Our increasingly active role in “produsage” media platforms such as YouTube enables us to perform what Andrejevic calls “the work of being watched” (“Work”). When we upload, play, view, like and comment on cat videos, we facilitate our own surveillance. We watch cat videos for the contradictory pleasures they offer us, as we navigate and negotiate the overwhelming surveillance of consumer society. Cat videos remind us of the perpetual possibility of observation, and suggest the prospect of escaping it. ReferencesAndrejevic, Mark. “The Work of Being Watched: Interactive Media and the Exploitation of Self-Disclosure.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 19.2 (2002): 230-248. Andrejevic, Mark. “The Discipline of Watching: Detection, Risk, and Lateral Surveillance.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 23.5 (2006): 391-407. Andrejevic, Mark. “Surveillance in the Digital Enclosure.” The Communication Review 10.4 (2007): 295-317. Berners-Lee, Tim. “Ask Me Anything.” Reddit, 12 March 2014. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/2091d4/i_am_tim_bernerslee_i_invented_the_www_25_years/cg0wpma›. Bruns, Axel. Blogs, Wikipedia, Second Life and Beyond: From Production to Produsage. New York: Peter Lang, 2008. Derrida, Jacques. The Animal That Therefore I Am. New York: Fordham University Press, 2008. Project MUSE, 4 Mar. 2014. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://muse.jhu.edu/›. Driscoll, Carlos A., et al. "The Taming of the Cat." Scientific American 300.6 (2009): 68-75. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Trans. Alan Sheridan. New York: Random House, 1995. Fuchs, Christian. “Web 2.0, Prosumption, and Surveillance.” Surveillance & Society 8.3 (2011): 288-309. Gunning, Tom. “An Aesthetic of Astonishment: Early Film and the Incredulous Spectator.” Viewing Positions: Ways of Seeing Film. Ed. Linda Williams. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 1995. 114-133. Gunning, Tom. "The Cinema of Attractions: Early Film, Its Spectator and the Avant-Garde." Wide Angle 8.3-4 (1986): 63-70. Hepola, Sarah. “The Internet Is Made of Kittens.” Salon, 11 Feb 2009. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://www.salon.com/2009/02/10/cat_internet/›. Jenkins, Henry, Sam Ford, and Joshua Green. Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Network Culture. New York: NYU Press, 2013. Lyon, David. “Liquid Surveillance: The Contribution of Zygmunt Bauman to Surveillance Studies.” International Political Sociology 4 (2010): 325–338 Lyon, David. “Surveillance, Power and Everyday Life.” In Robin Mansell et al., eds., Oxford Handbook of Information and Communication Technologies. Oxford: Oxford Handbooks, 2007. 449-472. 29 Apr. 2014 ‹http://www.sscqueens.org/sites/default/files/oxford_handbook.pdf›. Nichols, Bill. Introduction to Documentary. 2nd ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2010. Rogers, Katharine. The Cat and the Human Imagination: Feline Images from Bast to Garfield. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2001. Shafer, Leah. “I Can Haz an Internet Aesthetic?!? LOLCats and the Digital Marketplace.” Paper presented at the Northeast Popular/American Culture Association Conference, St. John Fisher College, Rochester, New York, 2012. 5 Mar. 2014 ‹http://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1094&context=nepca›.

IntroductionThe 2009 American film Trash Humpers, directed by Harmony Korine, was released at a time when the hipster had become a ubiquitous concept, entering into the common vernacular of numerous cultures throughout the world, and gaining significant press, social media and academic attention (see Žižek; Arsel and Thompson; Greif et al.; Stahl; Ouellette; Reeve; Schiermer; Maly and Varis). Trash Humpers emerged soon after the 2008 Global Financial Crisis triggered Occupy movements in numerous cities, aided by social media platforms, reported on by blogs such as Gawker, and stylized by multi-national youth-subculture brands such as Vice, American Apparel, Urban Outfitters and a plethora of localised variants.Korine’s film, which is made to resemble found VHS footage of old-aged vandals, epitomises the ironic, retro stylizations and “counterculture-meets-kitsch” aesthetics so familiar to hipster culture. As a creative stereotype from 1940s and ‘50s jazz and beatnik subcultures, the hipster re-emerged in the twenty-first century as a negative embodiment of alternative culture in the age of the Internet. As well as plumbing the recent past for things not yet incorporated into contemporary marketing mechanisms, the hipster also signifies the blurring of irony and authenticity. Such “outsiderness as insiderness” postures can be regarded as a continuation of the marginality-from-the-centre logic of cool capitalism that emerged after World War Two. Particularly between 2007 and 2015, the post-postmodern concept of the hipster was a resonant cultural trope in Western and non-Western cultures alike, coinciding with the normalisation of the new digital terrain and the establishment of mobile social media as an integral aspect of many people’s daily lives. While Korine’s 79-minute feature could be thought of as following in the schlocky footsteps of the likes of Rob Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects (2006), it is decidedly more arthouse, and more attuned to the influence of contemporary alternative media brands and independent film history alike – as if the love child of Jack Smith’s Flaming Creatures (1963) and Vice Video, the latter having been labelled as “devil-may-care hipsterism” (Carr). Upon release, Trash Humpers was described by Gene McHugh as “a mildly hip take on Jackass”; by Mike D’Angelo as “an empty hipster pose”; and by Aaron Hillis as either “the work of an insincere hipster or an eccentric provocateur”. Lacking any semblance of a conventional plot, Trash Humpers essentially revolves around four elderly-looking protagonists – three men and a woman – who document themselves with a low-quality video camera as they go about behaving badly in the suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee, where Korine still lives. They cackle eerily to themselves as they try to stave off boredom, masturbating frantically on rubbish bins, defecating and drinking alcohol in public, fellating foliage, smashing televisions, playing ten-pin bowling, lighting firecrackers and telling gay “hate” jokes to camera with no punchlines. In one purposefully undramatic scene half-way through the film, the humpers are shown in the aftermath of an attack on a man wearing a French maid’s outfit; he lies dead in a pool of blood on their kitchen floor with a hammer at his feet. The humpers are consummate “bad” performers in every sense of the term, and they are joined by a range of other, apparently lower-class, misfits with whom they stage tap dance routines and repetitively sing nursery-rhyme-styled raps such as: “make it, make it, don’t break it; make it, make it, don’t fake it; make it, make it, don’t take it”, which acts as a surrogate theme song for the film. Korine sometimes depicts his main characters on crutches or in a wheelchair, and a baby doll is never too far away from the action, as a silent and Surrealist witness to their weird, sinister and sometimes very funny exploits. The film cuts from scene to scene as if edited on a video recorder, utilising in-house VHS titling sequences, audio glitches and video static to create the sense that one is engaging voyeuristically with a found video document rather than a scripted movie. Mainstream AlternativesAs a viewer of Trash Humpers, one has to try hard to suspend disbelief if one is to see the humpers as genuine geriatric peeping Toms rather than as hipsters in old-man masks trying to be rebellious. However, as Korine’s earlier films such as Gummo (1997) attest, he clearly delights in blurring the line between failure and transcendence, or, in this case, between pretentious art-school bravado and authentic redneck ennui. As noted in a review by Jeannette Catsoulis, writing for the New York Times: “Much of this is just so much juvenile posturing, but every so often the screen freezes into something approximating beauty: a blurry, spaced-out, yellow-green landscape, as alien as an ancient photograph”. Korine has made a career out of generating this wavering uncertainty in his work, polarising audiences with a mix of critical, cinema-verité styles and cynical exploitations. His work has consistently revelled in ethical ambiguities, creating environments where teenagers take Ritalin for kicks, kill cats, wage war with their families and engage in acts of sexual deviancy – all of which are depicted with a photographer’s eye for the uncanny.The elusive and contradictory aspects of Korine’s work – at once ugly and beautiful, abstract and commercial, pessimistic and nostalgic – are evident not just in films such as Gummo, Julien Donkey Boy (1999) and Mister Lonely (2007) but also in his screenplay for Kids (1995), his performance-like appearances on The Tonight Show with David Letterman (1993-2015) and in publications such as A Crackup at the Race Riots (1998) and Pass the Bitch Chicken (2001). As well as these outputs, Korine is also a painter who is represented by Gagosian Gallery – one of the world’s leading art galleries – and he has directed numerous music videos, documentaries and commercials throughout his career. More than just update of the traditional figure of the auteur, Korine, instead, resembles a contemporary media artist whose avant-garde and grotesque treatments of Americana permeate almost everything he does. Korine wrote the screenplay for Kids when he was just 19, and subsequently built his reputation on the paradoxical mainstreaming of alternative culture in the 1990s. This is exemplified by the establishment of music and film genres such “alternative” and “independent”; the popularity of the slacker ethos attributed to Generation X; the increased visibility of alternative press zines; the birth of grunge in fashion and music; and the coining of “cool hunting” – a bottom-up market research phenomenon that aimed to discover new trends in urban subcultures for the purpose of mass marketing. Key to “alternative culture”, and its related categories such as “indie” and “arthouse”, is the idea of evoking artistic authenticity while covertly maintaining a parasitic relationship with the mainstream. As Holly Kruse notes in her account of the indie music scenes of the 1990s, which gained tremendous popularity in the wake of grunge bands such as Nirvana: without dominant, mainstream musics against which to react, independent music cannot be independent. Its existence depends upon dominant music structures and practices against which to define itself. Indie music has therefore been continually engaged in an economic and ideological struggle in which its ‘outsider’ status is re-examined, re-defined, and re-articulated to sets of musical practices. (Kruse 149)Alternative culture follows a similar, highly contentious, logic, appearing as a nebulous, authentic and artistic “other” whose exponents risk being entirely defined by the mainstream markets they profess to oppose. Kids was directed by the artist cum indie-director Larry Clark, who discovered Korine riding his skateboard with a group of friends in New York’s Washington Square in the early 1990s, before commissioning him to write a script. The then subcultural community of skating – which gained prominence in the 1990s amidst the increased visibility of “alternative sports” – provides an important backdrop to the film, which documents a group of disaffected New York teenagers at a time of the Aids crisis in America. Korine has been active in promoting the DIY ethos, creativity and anti-authoritarian branding of skate culture since this time – an industry that, in its attempts to maintain a non-mainstream profile while also being highly branded, has become emblematic of the category of “alternative culture”. Korine has undertaken commercial projects with an array skate-wear brands, but he is particularly associated with Supreme, a so-called “guerrilla fashion” label originating in 1994 that credits Clark and other 1990s indie darlings, and Korine cohorts, Chloë Sevigny and Terry Richardson, as former models and collaborators (Williams). The company is well known for its designer skateboard decks, its collaborations with prominent contemporary visual artists, its hip-hop branding and “inscrutable” web videos. It is also well known for its limited runs of new clothing lines, which help to stoke demand through one-offs – blending street-wear accessibility with the restricted-market and anti-authoritarian sensibility of avant-garde art.Of course, “alternative culture” poses a notorious conundrum for analysis, involving highly subjective demarcations of “mainstream” from “subversive” culture, not to mention “genuine subversion” from mere “corporate alternatives”. As Pierre Bourdieu has argued, the roots of alternative culture lie in the Western tradition of the avant-garde and the “aesthetic gaze” that developed in the nineteenth century (Field 36). In analysing the modernist notion of advanced cultural practice – where art is presented as an alternative to bourgeois academic taste and to the common realm of cultural commodities – Bourdieu proposed a distinction between two types of “fields”, or logics of cultural production. Alternative culture follows what Bourdieu called “the field of restricted production”, which adheres to “art for art’s sake” ideals, where audiences are targeted as if like-minded peers (Field 50). In contrast, the “field of large-scale production” reflects the commercial imperatives of mainstream culture, in which goods are produced for the general public at large. The latter field of large-scale production tends to service pre-established markets, operating in response to public demand. Furthermore, whereas success in the field of restricted production is often indirect, and latent – involving artists who create niche markets without making any concessions to those markets – success in the field of large-scale production is typically more immediate and quantifiable (Field 39). Here we can see that central to the branding of “alternative culture” is the perceived refusal to conform to popular taste and the logic of capitalism more generally is. As Supreme founder James Jebbia stated about his brand in a rare interview: “The less known the better” (Williams). On this, Bourdieu states that, in the field of restricted production, the fundamental principles of all ordinary economies are inversed to create a “loser wins” scenario (Field 39). Profit and cultural esteem become detrimental attributes in this context, potentially tainting the integrity and marginalisation on which alternative products depend. As one ironic hipster t-shirt puts it: “Nothing is any good if other people like it” (Diesel Sweeties).Trash HipstersIn abandoning linear narrative for rough assemblages of vignettes – or “moments” – recorded with an unsteady handheld camera, Trash Humpers positions itself in ironic opposition to mainstream filmmaking, refusing the narrative arcs and unwritten rules of Hollywood film, save for its opening and closing credits. Given Korine’s much publicized appreciation of cinema pioneers, we can understand Trash Humpers as paying homage to independent and DIY film history, including Jack Smith’s Flaming Creatures, William Eggleston’s Stranded in Canton (1973), Andy Warhol’s and Paul Morrissey’s Lonesome Cowboys (1967) and Trash (1970), and John Waters’s Pink Flamingos (1972), all of which jubilantly embraced the “bad” aesthetic of home movies. Posed as fantasized substitutions for mainstream movie-making, such works were also underwritten by the legitimacy of camp as a form of counter-culture critique, blurring parody and documentary to give voice to an array of non-mainstream and counter-cultural identities. The employment of camp in postmodern culture became known not merely as an aesthetic subversion of cultural mores but also as “a gesture of self-legitimation” (Derrida 290), its “failed seriousness” regarded as a critical response to the specific historical problem of being a “culturally over-saturated” subject (Sontag 288).The significant difference between Korine’s film and those of his 1970s-era forbears is precisely the attention he pays to the formal aspects of his medium, revelling in analogue editing glitches to the point of fetishism, in some cases lasting as long as the scenes themselves. Consciously working out-of-step with the media of his day, Trash Humpers in imbued with nostalgia from its very beginning. Whereas Smith, Eggleston, Warhol, Morrissey and Waters blurred fantasy and documentary in ways that raised the social and political identities of their subjects, Korine seems much more interested in “trash” as an aesthetic trope. In following this interest, he rightfully pays homage to the tropes of queer cinema, however, he conveniently leaves behind their underlying commentaries about (hetero-) normative culture. A sequence where the trash humpers visit a whorehouse and amuse themselves by smoking cigars and slapping the ample bottoms of prostitutes in G-strings confirms the heterosexual tenor of the film, which is reiterated throughout by numerous deadpan gay jokes and slurs.Trash Humpers can be understood precisely in terms of Korine’s desire to maintain the aesthetic imperatives of alternative culture, where formal experimentation and the subverting of mainstream genres can provide a certain amount of freedom from explicated meaning, and, in particular, from socio-political commentary. Bourdieu rightly points out how the pleasures of the aesthetic gaze often manifest themselves curiously as form of “deferred pleasure” (353) or “pleasure without enjoyment” (495), which corresponds to Immanuel Kant’s notion of the disinterested nature of aesthetic judgement. Aesthetic dispositions posed in the negative – as in the avant-garde artists who mined primitive and ugly cultural stereotypes – typically use as reference points “facile” or “vulgar” (393) working-class tropes that refer negatively to sensuous pleasure as their major criterion of judgment. For Bourdieu, the pleasures provided by the aesthetic gaze in such instances are not sensual pleasures so much as the pleasures of social distinction – signifying the author’s distance from taste as a form of gratification. Here, it is easy to see how the orgiastic central characters in Trash Humpers might be employed by Korine for a similar end-result. As noted by Jeremiah Kipp in a review of the film: “You don't ‘like’ a movie like Trash Humpers, but I’m very happy such films exist”. Propelled by aesthetic, rather than by social, questions of value, those that “get” the obscure works of alternative culture have a tendency to legitimize them on the basis of the high-degree of formal analysis skills they require. For Bourdieu, this obscures the fact that one’s aesthetic “‘eye’ is a product of history reproduced by education” – a privileged mode of looking, estranged from those unfamiliar with the internal logic of decoding presupposed by the very notion of “aesthetic enjoyment” (2).The rhetorical priority of alternative culture is, in Bourdieu’s terms, the “autonomous” perfection of the form rather than the “heteronomous” attempt to monopolise on it (Field 40). However, such distinctions are, in actuality, more nuanced than Bourdieu sometimes assumed. This is especially true in the context of global digital culture, which makes explicit how the same cultural signs can have vastly different meanings and motivations across different social contexts. This has arguably resulted in the destabilisation of prescriptive analyses of cultural taste, and has contributed to recent “post-critical” advances, in which academics such as Bruno Latour and Rita Felski advocate for cultural analyses and practices that promote relationality and attachment rather than suspicious (critical) dispositions towards marginal and popular subjects alike. Latour’s call for a move away from the “sledge hammer” of critique applies as much to cultural practice as it does to written analysis. Rather than maintaining hierarchical oppositions between authentic versus inauthentic taste, Latour understands culture – and the material world more generally – as having agency alongside, and with, that of the social world.Hipsters with No AlternativeIf, as Karl Spracklen suggests, alternativism is thought of “as a political project of resistance to capitalism, with communicative oppositionality as its defining feature” (254), it is clear that there has been a progressive waning in relevance of the category of “alternative culture” in the age of the Internet, which coincides with the triumph of so-called “neoliberal individualism” (258). To this end, Korine has lost some of his artistic credibility over the course of the 2000s. If viewed negatively, icons of 1990s alternative culture such as Korine can be seen as merely exploiting Dada-like techniques of mimetic exacerbation and symbolic détournement for the purpose of alternative, “arty” branding rather than pertaining to a counter-hegemonic cultural movement (Foster 31). It is within this context of heightened scepticism surrounding alternative culture that the hipster stereotype emerged in cultures throughout the world, as if a contested symbol of the aesthetic gaze in an era of neoliberal identity politics. Whatever the psychological motivations underpinning one’s use of the term, to call someone a hipster is typically to point out that their distinctive alternative or “arty” status appears overstated; their creative decisions considered as if a type of bathos. For detractors of alternative cultural producers such as Korine, he is trying too hard to be different, using the stylised codes of “alternative” to conceal what is essentially his cultural and political immaturity. The hipster – who is rarely ever self-identified – re-emerged in the 2000s to operate as a scapegoat for inauthentic markers of alternative culture, associated with men and women who appear to embrace Realpolitik, sincerity and authentic expressions of identity while remaining tethered to irony, autonomous aesthetics and self-design. Perhaps the real irony of the hipster is the pervasiveness of irony in contemporary culture. R. J Magill Jnr. has argued that “a certain cultural bitterness legitimated through trenchant disbelief” (xi) has come to define the dominant mode of political engagement in many societies since the early 2000s, in response to mass digital information, twenty-four-hour news cycles, and the climate of suspicion produced by information about terrorism threats. He analyses the prominence of political irony in American TV shows including The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, The Simpsons, South Park, The Chappelle Show and The Colbert Report but he also notes its pervasiveness as a twenty-first-century worldview – a distancing that “paradoxically and secretly preserves the ideals of sincerity, honesty and authenticity by momentarily belying its own appearance” (x). Crucially, then, the utterance “hipster” has come to signify instances when irony and aesthetic distance are perceived to have been taken too far, generating the most disdain from those for whom irony, aesthetic discernment and cultural connoisseurship still provide much-needed moments of disconnection from capitalist cultures drowning in commercial hyperbole and grave news hype. Korine himself has acknowledged that Spring Breakers (2013) – his follow-up feature film to Trash Humpers – was created in response to the notion that “alternative culture”, once a legitimate challenge to mainstream taste, had lost its oppositional power with the decentralization of digital culture. He states that he made Spring Breakers at a moment “when there’s no such thing as high or low, it’s all been exploded. There is no underground or above-ground, there’s nothing that’s alternative. We’re at a point of post-everything, so it’s all about finding the spirit inside, and the logic, and making your own connections” (Hawker). In this context, we can understand Trash Humpers as the last of the Korine films to be branded with the authenticity of alternative culture. In Spring Breakers Korine moved from the gritty low-fi sensibility of his previous films and adopted a more digital, light-filled and pastel-coloured palette. Focussing more conventionally on plot than ever before, Spring Breakers follows four college girls who hold up a restaurant in order to fund their spring break vacation. Critic Michael Chaiken noted that the film marks a shift in Korine’s career, from the alternative stylings of the pre-Internet generation to “the cultural heirs [of] the doomed protagonists of Kids: nineties babies, who grew up with the Internet, whose sensibilities have been shaped by the sweeping technological changes that have taken place in the interval between the Clinton and Obama eras” (33).By the end of the 2000s, an entire generation came of age having not experienced a time when the obscure films, music or art of the past took more effort to track down. Having been a key participant in the branding of alternative culture, Korine is in a good position to recall a different, pre-YouTube time – when cultural discernment was still caught up in the authenticity of artistic identity, and when one’s cultural tastes could still operate with a certain amount of freedom from sociological scrutiny. Such ideas seem a long way away from today’s cultural environments, which have been shaped not only by digital media’s promotion of cultural interconnection and mass information, but also by social media’s emphasis on mobilization and ethical awareness. ConclusionI should reiterate here that is not Korine’s lack of seriousness, or irony, alone that marks Trash Humpers as a response to the scepticism surrounding alternative culture symbolised by the figure of the hipster. It is, rather, that Korine’s mock-documentary about juvenile geriatrics works too hard to obscure its implicit social commentary, appearing driven to condemn contemporary capitalism’s exploitations of youthfulness only to divert such “uncool” critical commentaries through unsubtle formal distractions, visual poetics and “bad boy” avant-garde signifiers of authenticity. Before being bludgeoned to death, the unnamed man in the French maid’s outfit recites a poem on a bridge amidst a barrage of fire crackers let off by a nearby humper in a wheelchair. Although easily overlooked, it could, in fact, be a pivotal scene in the film. Spoken with mock high-art pretentions, the final lines of the poem are: So what? Why, I ask, why? Why castigate these creatures whose angelic features are bumping and grinding on trash? Are they not spawned by our greed? Are they not our true seed? Are they not what we’ve bought for our cash? We’ve created this lot, of the ooze and the rot, deliberately and unabashed. Whose orgiastic elation and one mission in creation is to savagely fornicate TRASH!Here, the character’s warning of capitalist overabundance is drowned out by the (aesthetic) shocks of the fire crackers, just as the stereotypical hipster’s ethical ideals are drowned out by their aesthetic excess. The scene also functions as a metaphor for the humpers themselves, whose elderly masks – embodiments of nostalgia – temporarily suspend their real socio-political identities for the sake of role-play. It is in this sense that Trash Humpers is too enamoured with its own artifices – including its anonymous “boys club” mentality – to suggest anything other than the aesthetic distance that has come to mark the failings of the “alternative culture” category. In such instances, alternative taste appears as a rhetorical posture, with Korine asking us to gawk knowingly at the hedonistic and destructive pleasures pursued by the humpers while factoring in, and accepting, our likely disapproval.ReferencesArsel, Zeynep, and Craig J. Thompson. “Demythologizing Consumption Practices: How Consumers Protect Their Field-Dependent Identity Investments from Devaluing Marketplace Myths.” Journal of Consumer Research 37.5 (2011): 791-806.Bourdieu, Pierre. 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