As far as I can tell, the structure of these two movies could not seem more different. Wiseman used longer cuts, used more close-ups, perfectly exposed his shots, and focused to perfection. Cohen, on the other hand, created a montage of quick moving, wider, blown-out, and out of focus shots.

Wiseman's style seemed to help put a sharp focus on the obsurdity of the school system. By "observing" the minute details of the characters (focusing on the facial expressions, hands, and and general body movement) we are able to see the students, parents, and teachers for what they really are. All confidence that the characters seem to have at wider angles breaks down to utter confusion once the camera seeks out the details. By utilizing longer cuts, we see the actual and complete breakdown of each situation and each conversation. The awkward pauses say it all. These people do no know what the hell they are doing. Yet they trod on in their ways. The perfect exposure and focus create an almost septic mood. The cookie-cutter image puts the frightening reality in stark contrast.

Cohen's style also fits his message. He seems to be searching for meaning and order in the underground (sometimes literally) of a major city. The short cuts keep the senses from settling on details thus creating a feeling of chaos. The over-exposed shots throw the dirtyness of the city into sharp view, while the lack of focus ensures that the viewers never become familiar in an ever changing city of cold strangers.

I think, though, that if we look a little deeper we can see that the two films used some similar structure. In the first 'act' of each we didn't quite get the gist of either film. In the case of Wiseman, during the first parts we are sometimes not quite aware of the absurdity of the school, while in the Cohen film, we are left wondering "What in the Sam Hell is going on here?!?" The aha moment in each film comes from the directors digging up scenes from earlier in the film. In Highschool many of the teachers' comments at the end of the film are contrast with what we observed earlier in the film. In Lost Book Found we finally see how the list influenced Cohen's view of the city as we revisit the garbage fishers.

And just to tack on an opinion... I dug both of these films in their own ways.

Is structure just where and when things happen?

I am with Megan and the question she posed at the beginning of the screening on Monday, "Is structure just where and when things happen?" If so then High School and Lost Book Found's structure are similar in that the conversations/narration reveal their context as the film progresses. 

However, I find the premise of Lost Book Found to be the most interesting of any of the films viewed for this class so far. I personally identify with the narrator, and once have fallen victim myself, to an unexplained fascination and curiosity in finding a discarded diary. There is just something in knowing someone's thoughts without having any clue as to who that someone is. I've been to New York a few times and there are a lot of crazy people there. Moreover, I wouldn't put it past them, the more industrious ones at least, to catalog and organize their particular brand of craziness, and then end up losing their catalog. . Instead, I felt the film's most lasting quality was the terribly insightful and biting narration; much like your own little narration you give yourself when walking alone in a city. My favorite-"in the shopping malls there is no weather and the season is marked by the different kinds of sales." And if the film tried to center on one issue rather the entire chaos of the city, it would be exemplified by this quote. The majority of the shots were of store windows, tacky merchandise, and street peddlers, which seemed to point a finger at the consumerism within the city; and even the narration turns to a discussion of consumerism towards the end. How the book ties into the issue is a unclear. I'm sure the book had countless listings of buyable goods, but how they fit with Law of Conservation of Mass (which is one listing I remembered) is unknown to me. What was striking to me is that a weathered old journal bought off the street was a more engrossing and captivating purchase than anything that could be bought in a store.

My two cents on the structure of High School by Russell Hawkins.

The structure of High School seemed to build from more youthful talks of discipline, academics and instruction at the beginning to more adult issues such as: sex, college, and the army approaching the end- much like high school.

HighSchoolandLostBooks

So we are discussing film structure once more and once more I don't think I know what film structure is; therefore, I am going to say film structure is the way the film/footage was put together.

High School: It is hard to say whether or not I would have gotten all the little references to the highschoolers being packaged into little Vietnam War soldiers if I had not already heard Metz's interpretation of this film in his class. I would like to think I am an astute film watcher but I don't think I have refined or even obtained those skills yet. There were times when Wiseman was subtle such as the "Dangling Conversation" scene and then there were times when he was quite direct such as when the kid said, "morally and socially this school is a garbage can." However, there was one thing I noticed about the structure of the film. There are several scenes spaced throughout the movie where students are being disciplined. The adult discipling the student is seen only as an enforcer at first; however, as the movie goes on, the same adults are seen again but they are seen as teachers in a classroom or a gym. I thought this structure choice helped form the overall meaning of the film by showing the adults primarily as enforcers who are unconcerned with the student's individual needs and then as teachers who are also enforces, but enforcers of ideas.
Another scene that was was structured in a way to further the idea of high school as a factory was the typewriter scene. All you see in the beginning is a man asking "Is everybody ready? Anyone not ready, ok go." Then you hear this weird mechanical noise and then it zooms out on a room full of students frantically typing on typewriters. This image immediately made me think of the "if you put a 100 monkeys in a room with typewriters...." The students then became a factory of typewriting monkeys all trying to get lucky and produce Shakespeare. What's great about this film is that this is all unscripted footage yet he edited it to make it seem almost like it was scripted in order to get his statement across.

Lost Book Found:

I found it hard to stay focused during the middle and end of this movie. There was so much time without any narration and the shots of the city were all somewhat similar. However, I realized that these images had meaning as a way to express Cohen attempting to make sense out of the random numbers, titles, etc from the book. All the images look similar so you would think that there would be a way to organize them into some comphresive whole, but it is impossible. The images are also of things you would probably ignore when you are in the city and that emphasized Cohen's comment that when he became a vendor he began to notice the invisible. In addition I was wondering if anyone knew if "American Beauty" (1999) got the idea of the plastic bag floating in the wind from this movie which was made only 3 years earlier?

Glassblowing Oscar...

I just wanted to make sure that Glassblowing (Bert Hanstra, 1958) had certainly won an oscar in 1959...

So here is the link if you are interested...

http://awardsdatabase.oscars.org/ampas_awards/DisplayMain.jsp?curTime=1222833039579

Scroll down to Documentary (Short subject) and there you will find it...

HS and Lost Book Found

At first I had no idea what was going on with Lost Book Found. It seemed to jump from a cityscape to garbage blowing around on a sidewalk to talk of running a pushcart to signs without much purpose. It was the narration that eventually revealed the purpose for all that randomness. I felt like Cohen was capturing the sensory overload that is NY City that the mystery writer of the notebook tried to find meaning in with all the lists and categories. The film captured the “invisible” that most people block out while making their way down the street that the mystery writer hadn’t. While the images seemed random at first Cohen forced his own ordering, he’d show a bunch of shots of people then store windows then signs. I really liked the extended portraits of the people you’d pass on the street and never take note of. I watched Into Great Silence last year and Groening did the same thing but held the camera for much, much longer and it made me feel uncomfortably like a peeping Tom. On top of those scenes Cohen interjected his own experience with the city - working in a high rise and looking down on the city, commuting into NYC, pushing the cart – that added a flow of time onto of the flow of images.

High School seemed much less random at first because Wiseman allowed scenes to play out instead of just flashes of images. However, as I sit here trying to write about structure I’m having problems. The dialogue does help to figure out what was being said with the film, that students are being molded to fit society – I loved the part with the girl wanting to wear the shorter dress to homecoming and the man saying he was all for individualism but she’d insult people if she didn’t wear the same thing as everybody else. At first I thought the extreme close-ups were only used on the people you should not sympathize with such as the vice-principal and the teachers that read the asinine daily inspirational quote. However, he also started showing close-ups of students, whether bored or engaged and people’s absent minded hand gestures. He also didn’t seem to rely on (the possibly cliché) ordering with time by showing kids arriving at school at the beginning of the film and then leaving at the end of the day at the end. I seem to be able to come up with ways structure could have been applied to the film but weren’t used rather than what was actually done.

Week 5: Highschool and Lost Book Found Continued

I accidentally posted the first part of my blog before I was finished.

So, in comparison to the jumbled city portrayed in Lost Book Found, Highschool seems very direct and harsh. Highschool is about the production of obedient soldiers, about molding individuals. Lost Book is more about the combination of many people creating this entity that exists beyond the individual: the city. I did find Highschool to be very interesting to watch, it just had a very different focus than Lost Book. I'm just really glad I didn't go to highschool in the 60s- that one teacher for fashion or whatever that class was, who kept telling all the girls that they had "leg problems"! Or the boy told to "be a man and take orders" because he "lacked character". No wonder there is so many screwed up people out there! I just wonder what sort of brainwashing was going on in my highschool that I wasn't aware of.....

Week 5: Highschool and Lost Book Found

The way the two films observe the world is very different, which affects the overall feeling of each film(Is this what is meant by structure? The way a film creates an overall impression on a viewer?). Highschool is more straightforward, observing people and creating commentary through those observations. Lost Book Found is more like a collage than a clear examination of people, except for those few shots of people at the end. The impression I had of Lost Book Found was that, while there was a literal book mentioned in the film, the city itself is really the "book" that the narrator finds. This is supported by the rapid sequence of images that correspond to the narration. For instance, when the narrator talks about categories in the book like "perpetual motion" or "string" there follows a series of shots showing things found in the city that could fall under these categories. Also, the repeated use of timelapse photography focuses the attention of the viewer on the city overall, rather than the people that are just blurring by- the city becomes something beyond the sum of its parts or takes on a life of its own. The city almost seems to grow and breathe, as people layer words on words and trash swirls around.

High School and Lost Book Found

First off I should say that I don't entirely understand what is meant by the term film structure. However, like Devon, I also believe that nobody cares about the "yellow filter". Having said that...

High School:
High School uses a repetition that alternated between teachers and staff scolding students, in some cases belittling them, and then lecturing to them in an autocratic way (Existentialista!). The repetition of lectures and scoldings serve to show how knowledge is shoehorned into the students and then how the students are being shoehorned into mold's that they don't fit. The use of close ups on, for example, the mouth of the teacher, or the teachers clasped hands, reinforce the idea that the teachers and staff are talking heads that are there to drive knowledge into the students.

The film implies that the students are being prepared for Vietnam when (e.g.) the student is discussing his detention with the principal (?) tells the student that he needs to show that he "can be a man and that you can take orders," or in the moments when the students are running around gym class wearing uniforms, and also in final scene when a teacher, shot from a low camera angle showing only her head, reads the letter from a former student about to go to Vietnam and declares that they are very successful at NE High School.

Lost Book Found:
This film didn't seem to have much structure. The story was very vague and tenuous at times. The threads that did hold the film together were the use of slow motion, the use of night shots that showed the green and yellow lights of NYC, and then the natural light of the daytime shots. Also most of the shots of people seemed to be taken surreptitiously until the very end of the film when a series of people were filmed facing the camera. I don't know that a consistent use of technique gives a film structure though.

Week Four - Glassblowing

Glassblowing is a film about craftsmanship, and so, in the first section of the film, Haanstra primarily focuses on the hands and faces of the artisans. Slightly mesmerized by the repetitive motions of the men intercut with the images of molten glass, the viewer gets some sense of the glassblowing process; but, more importantly, the audience is struck with the skill, precision, and attention to detail of the glass-makers themselves. In the second section of the film, with the switch to mechanized production, we are, at first, impressed by the efficient means of mass producing glass bottles. But the audience starts to feel uneasy when the first factory worker we see seems to be little more than a cog in the machine, pulling a lever to keep the manufacturing process moving along. Our suspicions are confirmed when a mechanical arm malfunctions, and, unable to correct for its initial error, continues it repetitive movement as many glass bottles fall to the floor and break (until a worker is able to intervene and reset the process). Unlike the repetitive motions of the skilled glassblowers, which are adept and deliberate, the repetitive movements of the unthinking machines are preprogrammed and unchanging. The idea that mechanization leads to greater efficiency is severely undercut by the images of waste and glass bottles shattering on the floor.

The third and final section of the film begins with a cut from the mechanical arm back to the arm of one of the glassblowers, working at his craft. The sequence that follows lasts for a minute and half, and consists of many closeup shots of the glassblowers hands at work. Haanstra then cuts to the hands of a factory worker rolling a cigarette. Pieces of glass fly past on the conveyor belt as he half-heartedly oversees the process. This worker isn't involved in the process of creation; in fact, we only see him interact with the glass when he uses a hot piece to light his cigarette. The contrast between these idle hands and the hands of the artisan glassblowers reflects the value placed upon human dignity in each approach to production. Through these contrasts, Haanstra depicts the industrial process as monotonous and the work as menial. The film then moves to its conclusion with a frenzy of cuts back and forth from the glassblowers (again - mainly their hands and faces) to the mechanized glass production. Ultimately, there is no question that the film valorizes the traditional art of glassblowing, despite its perceived obsolescence in the face of modern technology.

Glassblowing

Glassblowing is as much a process film as it is a social commentary. The filmmaker skillfully melds the physical blowing concepts and underlying message together. The initial scenes of the film draws the viewer in with saturated colors that standout against a chariscuro shadow background. The upbeat music seemed somewhat at odds with the darker, somber color setting and I found it rather distracting. Additionally, I hoped for some ambient sounds to ground what I was seeing and provide me more of a with sense of the immediate heat and grit of the environment.

The introduction of foley signaled a shift in the scene to the new mechanization of the blowing process. The tilted, close-up camera angles of the massive machines and the rapid editing pace echoed sort of impending battle scene. The grim German voiceover methodically counted as the glitch in the system caused the machine- made bottles to crash to the floor. The film suggests that it takes a human, not a machine to correct such an error. The viewer is to ponder the damaging transition from skilled artisan to imperfect industrialization.

The process then returns back to the original setting of the 1st half of the film. Jazz rhythms are keyed to blower's exhale.
The glassblowing tubes here are clearly the artist's musical instruments. The film suggests a return to traditional craftsmanship and it's rightful place in the modern world.

Glassblowing

“ Glassblowing “; Bert Haanstra

 

The first shot of “Glassblowing” instantly remind me Industrial Britain by Robert Flaherty. While in Flaherty’s film the main goal is to present the craft of British glassblowers, in Bert’s Haanstra’s film it is the process itself where one receives all of the relevance. I would like to point out the excellent use of music compositions in combination with quick takes of the different stages that are necessary to complete every piece of glass. In addition, there is a clear structure in the film, that presents two opposing ways of producing glass; the traditional one, that rests on the ability of its workers; and the new one, that depends on the efficiency of machines. Both options are well depicted thanks to the use of different melodies and close-ups of the process. One of the most interesting moments is when the machinery stops because one fragment of glass of a bottle is broken and the next machine, that is accumulating all bottles, cannot continue the chain of work. At the end, as if we were watching a music video the different styles of producing glass are joined by the same music. I enjoyed the film this time.

PP. O. V.

Points of view are ways of approaching and telling stories. Rabiger categorization (single character, mutliple characters, omniscient, personal, reflexive and self reflexive) is meant to describe them as distinctive and recognizable strategies yet, by no means, is meant to make them appear of being exclusive of each other. The use or abuse of a certain point of view will have large consequences on narration and aesthetics thus giving the story a noticeable personality. 

Glassblowing seems a good documentary to analyze a construction with different points of view since, at least to me, it is clear that a "balanced" mix was used to narrate the process of artisanal and industrial glassblowing. At first sight I would say that a multiple characters viewpoint is the predominant one and this is supported with the portraits of different workers blowing, cutting and modeling, and the close-up shots of the process. However, there are two distinct approaches represented for the glass making process: the hand-made and the machine-made. These, with the help of the music and the editing, are contrastingly different and could be seen as single "character"  situations. We are only looking at one factory of each kind and taking these subjective examples as the rule is, accordingly, making us draw biased conclusions about the industry. Here is where the personal point of view comes to play and, quoting Rabiger, it "is unashamedly and subjectively that of the director". It is evident! And everyone has already pointed it out. To finish, it is worth noticing that the effect of the comparison between the two processes is what made us give thought to the industrialized world, hence giving the story a reflexive point of view. 

Analyzing the different points of view with which the documentary was done (instinctively or on purpose???) made me ask if this is one of the reasons why it won an Oscar almost 50 years ago... 

Glassblowing

A process film - seems simple enough. film someone doing something in order to convey to the viewer the "process" of the task. However, this film has taken yet another of my preconceived notions of what something is and turned it completely on it's head.

As a process film, glassblowing does very little to actually explain visually how glassblowers take their art from idea to creation. However what it does do, and it does so beautifully, is to convey the action and atmosphere that consume the daily work of the glassblowers. It is aesthetically pleasing to watch and in a short amount of time, the viewer is drawn to the characters in the film and their methodical and often comical routine.

However, it is when the film shifts gears (no pun intended) and moves into a montage of industrial glass bottle production, we are immediately whisked away from the pleasant art of the glassblowers into a harsh, mechanized assembly line deplete of humans. This movement into the industrial reflects not only a lost art, but the replacement of human hands by machines. We are presented then with a much bigger picture than a simple process film and instead we must confront the larger social issues presented by the rise of industry.

Glassblowing

Glassblowing as a craft is already quite beautiful, but this film used a variety of different close-ups, cuts, and sound that really seemed to accentuate the motion of the artform, the texture of the molten glass and cooled glass, the character of the men, and even the character of the machinery. We are drawn to aspects of this film by the highly contrasted lights and darks. The environment was made to look very dark in contrast to the molten glass, especially evident when we see the orange drops of glass zipping across the screen in their highspeed route to becoming glasses and bottles. The workers themselves were also lit in contrast to the dark background, the blowing cheeks and rolling hands being made focal points as much as the glass at the end of the tube. By showing these blowing cheeks we get a real sense of these men and for the commitment to their profession. The close-ups of this process and the use of repitition gives us a sense of them on a very real leve. These are not a bunch of guys working their 9-5's, even if that is what they are. These are master craftsmen, working with a medium that is hot, is on a time schedule, and that requires constant attention in order for it to become something. The contrast of the fast paced machinery with the dancing hands and mouths of the artisans gives us this sense of pace and control that is required which we might not get if we just saw the men working. They perform the glassblowing with such ease, that the speed and motion might be taken for granted. This film seemed to have the same malleability as the molten glass. There were camera shots from behind, as with the man lighting his cigarette, from below looking up at the men blowing, and from above, when we look down into the wooden bowls that smoke with the shaping of the vessel. There is also this inside-view of things, like when we see the glasses breaking. While the film is symphonic in nature, it is still actually a movie about glass making, and these kinds of things happen in that environment. In other words, the film is not just meant to be aesthetically pleasing. It is both beautiful and dramatic. With the breakdowm in the system, we get to see what seems to be an acted out drama, with the cut to the man yelling out about the problem and then crashing in and wiping out the glasses blocking the conveyer belt. From the whole film we really get a sense of the raw material, and here we are reiminded of its final nature and then, of its recyclability.

Glassblowing

I am an avid fan of the show "How it's Made" that frequents the discovery channel in the daytime soap and wee-night hours. "How it's Made" is a process show that takes you through the production of everyday objects with very boring shots and narration of assembly lines and work rooms. "Glassblowing" does the same thing with a creative flare and a much more structured style. Although, sometimes I feel like I could go make a badass bookcase or playdough recipe after watching "how its made," it lacks flow, synergy, and the aesthetic style/structure of "Glassblowing. And although, "how its made" is much more instructional, Glassblowing goes further in describing the history and industrial progression of the trade.

Revolving around a series of men all making different glass objects, several glass pieces come to form as the film progresses. Without the linear progression of the completion of one type of piece to another progression of how a slightly different piece is created, the filmmaker, to me,  has achieved a way to show the process of a team of skilled tradesmen rather than a glass piece. This result is achieved by the random flow to the next worker with a symmetry in the movement from shot to shot. The shots of the men rolling cigarettes in juxtaposition with men rolling the glassblowing pipes further combines the workers with their craft, rather the process with its product. Lastly, the bottle factory breaks this structure a little, but this can be justified because the introduction of the automated factory has broken the craftsmanship of this trade. In the end, the film leaves the factory and returns the the men working by hand, as if to show the true process of "glassblowing" and not "glassmaking."

p.s. With that Vince Guaraldi-esque soundtrack, the only thing that disappointed me was when i realized charlie brown and linus weren't going to show up to find the true meaning of Christmas.

Film as Matrix Geology

I agree with Quinn in that I got a new notion of the process film as something astoundingly different than a "how to" video. The progression of of the 'process' was never shown explicitly. Each step of the traditional production was melded with the previous through repetition. Likewise, the specialization of the traditional blowers was never stated overtly. We got a sense of it through closeups of the hands, mouth, and other movements that were treated in the film as something closer to dance than production.

Besides the aesthetic created by music, the two forms of glass creation were contrasted through differences in the the way the film was cut. The transitions between the scenes of the traditional blowers were more smooth while the movement of the blowers themselves were more graceful by contrast to the machine scenes. These contained more harsh transitions and the movement of the machines were fast and severe. It seems as if parts of the machine that were the most jutting and stop-and-go were chosen in order to create this contrast.

I also agree with Devon in his critique of the layers. But, I think that there is yet another layer that he left out. This layer comes from a different dimension. This film is quite obviously a process film but it is just as obviously a social film. I feel that both presentation and intent are important characteristics to consider when describing structure. One way that this other axis is created, at least in this film, is by creating contrasting aesthetics. Another way that it is created is by the progression of the film. The second functional layer of the film would have been lost, or at least mitigated, if the film would have ended with the 'modern' production scene. Instead, the contrast is taken further by bringing the traditional blowers back in the end.

Layers of Glass

Looking ahead a bit, I see that not only this week but also the following two weeks have prompts dealing with film structure. Not possessing the greatest of vocabularies, I went online in an attempt to nail down what is actually meant by film structure. After searching through a few websites, I was finally able to find out what exactly creates the structure of film.

Film is apparently both like onions and ogres, in the fact that it has layers. It is these layers that give each film its character and substance. I was not aware, as you may not be, of the names of these layers. Antihilation backing, subbing layer, emulsion layers, yellow filter, supercoat, and UV absorbing layer are all supported by a film base and apparently that is what makes up the structure of film.

After getting a solid foundation in the mechanics of film structure I was ready to go back to the prompt and see how to apply what I had just learned to analyze the film Glassblowing. Consequently, I think it might be most useful to define what parts of the film account for its inherently different layers.

For instance, the “antihilation backing,” I would say, is the music. It’s in the background always feeding the emotion of the scenes, whether it’s the artist glassblower tickling the keys with his nimble fingers or the machines blasting their loud schreaches, constantly threatening to take over the world from humanity. The “subbing layer” could be the lazy workers at the factories, because the machines are subbing for their part in the process of glassblowing. The “emulsion layer” has to be those scenes toward the end of the film that emulsified or brought together, through a series of rapid cuts, both the old school and new school glassblowing techniques. The “yellow filter”…um…I don’t know. Nobody cares about the “yellow filter”. The “supercoat” has to be when the factory workers lit their cigarettes with the hot glass because that was super awesome. The “UV absorbing layer” could be the last scene, when the glassblowers were carrying their finished products away, because it helps to absorb you into the idea that in the end glassblowing is a great art that could never be replaced by machines. All of these distinct layers were supported by the “film base” of blowing. The audience is reminded throughout the film that the straightforward act of blowing can basically help make something beautiful out of something useless.

more thoughts on glassblowing/process

Hello all. I am digging the blog and hearing your ideas. I want to interject some ideas here, especially about glassblowing as a process film and structure. There are, of course, many ways to approach a process film. I am not that interested in if you like this film or not. I am trying to get you to train yourselves to look at the filmic techniques used to create structure. I am also trying to get you to watch films in this "active" way, as its a key component to learning to make films. As you try different things, you start to see films differently. This film does a good job of moving beyond simply "covering the action," yet coverage is in play. The shots are planned, a structure is formed. And yet the end film says so much more than just "explaining" how glassblowing works. I'd like you to experiment with this. With language many of us are practiced at achieving a tone and point of view. Cinema is no different, but you have different tools at your disposal. How is this being done in GLASSBLOWING? And from there, how will you do it in your film? The music is something you will not have at your disposal, just a warning. So how does one find their way through a process and at the same time express something relevant about that process? What decisions will need to be made before production? The more clearly you know what you are trying to say, the easier it will be to decide everything else (where to put the camera, what format to use, what coverage to get, what angles, what sounds to record or find.) Perhaps a way to think about GLASSBLOWING is to ask, what is the point of view? what is the tone? How is it achieved (ie, why do you answer the way you do?)

Blow, Shape, and Roll

Glassblowing is an interesting process to begin with, and adding certain cinematic techniques to make the whole thing seem like a symphony made glassblowing even more interesting. The scene after the machine factory footage really highlighted the idea above. The piano music was perfectly matched up with the shots of the men rolling the tube so that it appeared the men were playing the piano. Their fingers twirled, rolled, and had a similar dexterity as piano players. Then the shots of men blowing into the tube were timed with trombone sounds. I thought this syncing made the whole tone of the film energetic and colorful.
I also noticed, like Quinn said, that different men were doing what appeared the same motion but each person had a different end product. The repetitive shots showed that glassblowing is a delicate process that even the smallest and most intricate movements make the difference.

Week 4 - glassblowing

As already described by Ian and Quinn, the music was an essential component of the film. It almost looked like the filmmakers had the music first, then matched the images to the sound, making the music the driving force behind the structure of the film. The multiple shots of different glassblowers created interest while still following the chronological progession of how the various glass objects were being made. I also liked the part where the machine failed to grasp the glass bottle and a human was needed to fix the process- just adding that one scene created a nice commentary on the place of humans in an industrialized world, making the film more than just a process film.

Glassblowing

I really enjoyed this film.

Music was an essential part of the film. It set a mood for the 3 different parts of the film. The piano music gave a strong impression of the art and craft of their work. The audio that sounds like it was cut from Star Wars definitely gave an impression of the mechanical nature of the manufacture of the glass bottles. And in the final sequence when the hands of the glass blowers are emphasized it looks like they are playing musical instruments, first because of the music and focus is on their hands and then because the film gives the impression that the glass blowers are blowing lumps of molten glass into the machines even though we know that's not true.

Within each of the three segments of the film there is also a structure as the molten glass proceeds from a molten lump to a finished product, whether that product is a piece of art or a large collection of machine made bottles. Each segment uses repetition to illustrate the manufacture of the bottle or piece of glass. They start off at the beginning of the process and progress to a later stage but every time a new stage is added they return to earlier stages. It's sort of like they film 2 steps forward and then take a step back until they reach the finished product.

I like the film it was very good.

Glassblowing

Well, I guess a process film is not the same thing as an instructional video. The music was such an important part of the film. It highlighted the difference between “hand”-blown glass and when the process was automated with more classic instrumental music for the former and music with more of a sci-fi feel for the latter. I found it interesting that, at the end, when both methods were used the music became jazz.

So much of the movie consisted of repeating shots, the guys blowing air down the pipe, rolling the pipes on their hands and along bars, I think it captured the nature of glass-blowing, even though it didn’t spell out exactly why or what they were doing. Also, all of the guys seemed to be working on a different object but a lot of their movements were similar. The same thing was done with the automated glass blowing, showing the mechanical arm swing over to pick up a bottle and then set it down multiple times. The inclusion of the broken bottle and subsequent mal-function of the automated method until a person stepped in to knowingly remove the bottle seemed to show that, even though the machine could make tons more bottles than those guys could make, people are still necessary to the process. Integrating both methods at the end reinforced that point. The movie didn’t follow a more logical order of showing the process – removing melted glass from the furnace, turning and blowing to form an object, adding details etc – but mixed up the stages. This kept the film from getting boring while the repetitive nature gave you the whole picture.

Silos and the 3' 7' 77"

Both films, looking more like a Gillian Welch music video than traditional documentaries, eeriely convey the emptiness and loneliness of the open mid-west prairie landscape. Although the production value was clearly lower in Buffalo Commons, I was more drawn this film's low key style and subject matter. The film quickly establishes a sense of place through black and white wide pans that were filmed at eye level and lower. The pans scan the open land but never attempt to draw the viewer into the deep silo pit with overviews or camera zooms. The silos remain integrated into the landscape and well out of our physical reach. The film maker effectively links the abandoned silo sites with their neighboring, dwindling, North Dakota towns. The footage of the towns themselves looks oddly out of time and place ---as if it were unapologetically cut from random B movie of the 1950's.

The film further conveys a sense of place through the town dolly long shots popularized in Michael Moore's Roger and Me. I felt the hopelessness of the moment as the pans continued through Main Street and over to the tennis courts and empty band stand, all reminents of a once vibrant community. Perhaps the most haunting of the shots occurred in the final scene. The elderly model builder is filmed as he oversees his basement kingdom. At this very point, the film maker cues the droning hum of crickets, the pervasive summer anthem of all midwest towns. We are told that this plain plywood base supports structures no longer in existence... as if local silos had been detonated and no one cared to inform the town's final resident that he was utterly alone out on this reborn frontier.
.............

Injury to One invokes a similar emotions with it's unpopulated landscapes and endless, empty skies. What struck me as particularly interesting is that the film broke with the typical color transition convention for black and white (often signaling the old and depressive) and color (often signaling positive, current time). In fact, the scene transitions from black and white to color offered no relief form the somber and steady tone held throughout the film. The frequent shifts simply signaled to viewers that nothing indeed had changed in Butte. The bold typography displayed the grim statistics in visual manner that packed far greater strength than had they been simply spoken by a narrator. The typography itself actually became a moving character in the film, supported by the power imagery of the futile protest poster art.

The film's presentation of historical data is also noteworthy. Having grown accustomed to the Ken Burns history model (written material - narration - reenactment) , I found this film's presentation fresh and engaging. The most striking was the film maker's use of the running numbers recounting the miner's mortality toll (0-10,000). Instead of seeing this statistic, we feel this statistic. The same holds true for the repeated 3' 7' 77" that ushered in most every scene. The film maker baits us with this mysterious statistic until he reveals in the second half that it's the state-sanctioned depth for a human grave. We commit this figure to memory. We in fact sense the confines of its very space.

Finally, I felt the most effective and disturbing choice the film maker made was the end credit voice over. The scripted narrator, likely recorded on an actual Chamber of Commerce public tour, simply strips Butte's history down to a pleasant, whitewashed veneer. "Welcome to Butte". Welcome to Poisonville.

Week 3

" Buffalo common "
This seems to be an amateur attempt to make a serious documentary about the complicated situation that a region, which holds a nuclear silo, has to face during its history.
The voice of the young narrator makes one lose concentration in the images and makes it difficult to follow the order of events. I think we are used to hearing the voice of an old man who easily transmits a serious and experienced message. In this case, this kind of voice gives me the impression that I am hearing a novice filmmaker trying to make his first steps into the documentary genera. This is also supported by one scene in which the same person that is presenting the action seems to be the one who also stops the recording of the tape. According to the editing, the film presents very long shots (17-20" pattern) and pans that drive the audience into a lethargic state. Moreover, this short film tries to be reflective by presenting the view of its author with the supporting materials of the images. In my opinion, this should not be a difficult task with an interesting story about nuclear weapons. However, the images do not fit the narration as they should, and some of them are not aesthetically well constructed. To sum up, although the subject matter appeared to be interesting and informative, the lack of continuity and rhythm plus the apprentice narration, makes the documentary a slow and monotonous experience.
" An injury to one "
The hard struggle between the workers of a factory in Montana and its owners is presented as an example of the extremely aggressive economic trend carried out by employers in the US during the last century. The film is very well supported with historical pictures and records, which are competently presented and follow a logical order. There is also an interesting use of the editing as a tool to grasp the audience with its principal message. This is shown when they use the size of a grave in Montana to point out the significant number of miners that had died during a period of time. Another attractive tool is the use of both B/W and color images depending on whether the narration is presenting statements in favor of the working class (color), or a list of numbered history events (B/W). In addition, even though the music is not a master-piece, it has been properly selected to convey the ideas of the film. To conclude, the combination of interesting film techniques and its stimulating topic makes this film a good option for aspiring filmmakers like us.

Week 3 Buffalo Common and An Injury to One

I agree with most of the cohort in that Buffalo Common was a strange film. There seemed to be a disconnect between the narration and the shots of deserted streets and the smallest post office and city hall known to man. On one hand, the film was interesting when it focused on disarmament and the protestors in the area, but the lack of representation on behalf of the people who actually lived there was questionable. Maybe the residents had something to say that did not fit in with the rest of the film. I felt that there was also a lack of supporting evidence for a correlation between the empty streets and the missile silos. I also checked out a map of the missile field in Grand Forks, ND, and the film failed to show just how many silos are out there (over 300 in the state by the 70's). Apparently, in the '60's, school children were actually taken to the nearest silos on fieldtrips. If North Dakota had succeeded from the nation at that time, it probably would have been the most powerful country in the world.

Then again, it is possible that Bill Brown was merely trying to show the irony of missile silos in otherwise small, peaceful towns. There was one shot of a protestor next to a tree, with a beautiful landscape in the background, and then a quick cut to the same protestor next to a barbed wire fense with warning signs posted on it. For a nuclear war to start in Grand Forks just seems unlikely, but that is what could have happened. As far as the location taking on a character of its on, I think it did in this film. The shots of those deserted streets, the sign for "Balloon Palace" next to the sign for "Gun City," and the general respresentation of empty parking lots and industrial remnants is probably a good depiction of quite a few towns in the area that have seen sharp decreases in population.



I actually had the pleasure seeing An Injury to One twice this week. The first time I could barely get through it, but the second time, as the imagery and stories about Frank Little started to sink in, the film had a greater impact on me. One thing that did bother me about the film was the presence of obviously biased statements, unsupported by any backstory or even slight explanation (i.e. some big statement followed by "but this is incorrect" with no background on why it is incorrect or what the true story really was). Also, some of the graphics looked a little amateur, such as the big question marks and repeated phrases with small, barely visible posters from the unions. Overall, I think the narration could have been made more enagaging, while still keeping with the drudgery of it all.
As far as giving the location a character of its own, I feel like this film did that very well. Not only did Wilkerson show us what Butte looked like then and in the present, but he also told us the stories of Anaconda, the miners, and Frank Little, which sets the context for what we see today. I also enjoyed the songs of the Butte miners, with the shots of present day Butte. For not knowing anything about Butte, or any other towns like it for that matter, this film was really interesting. Furthermore, I think it achieves what any good documentary should, that is, it makes me want to find out more about the IWW, Frank Little, and the struggles of union workers. On a side note, that pit is awful, and now I know why some woman told me a couple months ago that Montana is the most polluted place in the world...she was just talking about Butte.

One Common Buffalo Injury

This week we have been reading about the idea of America as something that originated from the human experience on the frontier. this frontier shifted and changed, often it wittled away at the natural landscape as it moved West, and often it would retreat East when it was determined to hostile for human advance. north dakota was part of this original frontier - a place where land was claimed and fortunes were made - and undoubtedly also a place that people passed on as to harsh, or just not far enough west.

i have driven through similar parts of the country and the same question has always run through my mind and that is, why the hell does anyone want to live here? As i watched the movie I again came to this uninformed and selfish question again. the movie presented the same illustrations of the place I already had. it is barren, it is cold, it is economically depressed. the terrain is flat and uneventful. it is a place where the only things that seems to thrive there at all (certainly not people as evidenced by the declining census figures) are the grass and the bison (buffalo is a misnomer).
i am unsure about the cold war/missile silos/north dakotans for peace element that was maybe the focus of the film, but i see a metaphor that kind of makes sense to me. during the cold war, ND was an important place, the economy was likely better, the govt. paid attention to the state, the land was important for bigger reasons than bison. after the cold war, the above listed reasons for ND's significance were...insignificant. the destruction of the silos represents this transformation.

Travis Wilkerson's movie was awesome. Being 34% hippy, I naturally love movies that demonize corporations - and is this instance it was done aesthetically and creatively, especially given that most of his shots were of still images. However, this movie does less to depict the character of the location, than it does tell a compelling story complete with a hero and a villain.

When I was 18 I moved to Montana for the 1st time and en route to my glorious destination of Glacier Park, I stopped for the night in Butte. granted, my $40 hotel room (it might have even been next to the tailings pond) was expectedly bad, but my immediate and lasting impression of the place was that they could probably take the "e" off the end of the town's name and it would provide a better descriptor. However, everyone should visit this gem of a town to get a real idea of its character - depressed, yet charming. i think their are some good package deals online that include your hotel and day trips to the geese pond, the graveyard, and other historical sites.

In terms of place as character, Brown's long, sparse shots of North Dakota definitely took center stage over the stated focus of the film, the presence and disarmament of nuclear war silos. If this was intended to be a political critique of dangerous Cold War strategies affecting rural Americans, it failed to foster my concern. Instead, the extended wide shots, empty towns, and lonely vistas, left me feeling disarmed. I am a sucker for imagery that depicts solitude, silence and space, and this is what captivated me about Buffalo Common. The presence of nuclear silos or the threat of violence that they represent, was diminished by the spaciousness of the place, both physically and psychologically. I would assume that Brown made this film because he cares about the land and the people, but his sensitivity to them led me through an aesthetic experience more than an intellectual one.

An Injury to One did not suffer the same problem of location, as character, usurping the storyline. In fact, exactly the opposite occurred. I didn't feel that we got that strong of a representation of the location. I found the shots to be too distant and/or too generic to get a true sense of Butte or of the Berkeley Pit. It seems the intention of the film was to tell a story, and in that, it was successful. The knees of the dead Frank Little stick with me more than anything else from this film, and those knees, serve as a reminder of the whole scandalous tale. As a Butteophile, however, I feel that more could have been done to bring the character of Butte and the surrounding landscape alive.

In the end, I would say, each film could learn from the other and a better balance between location and story be reached.

Week 3 - Buffalo Common & An Injury to One

While I enjoyed both films, I had a much greater emotional response to An Injury to One; and, unlike Kristyn, I've spent much more time thinking about Wilkerson's film over the last few days than I've spent considering Bill Brown's Buffalo Common.

Wilkerson, by focusing the on the murder of Frank Little to provide a compelling narrative, created a metaphor for the death Butte, MT at the same time. Over the course of the film, we learn of the rise and fall of Butte - from small, frontier town, to copper boomtown, to Superfund site. Through still images and Wilkerson's narration, the viewer gets a sense of the crowded, squalid conditions of early 20th century Butte. Wide, landscape shots show us modern day Montana, but rarely do we glimpse clear images of the streets of latter-day Butte. Instead, Wilkerson emphasizes the abandoned open-pit mine, flooded with toxic water: the legacy of the Anaconda mining company. The story of Little's involvement with the mining union and the description of his brutal murder present the case against Anaconda for exploiting of the town and the workers; while Little is an obscure figure, almost lost to history without this film, Anaconda's exploitation shaped Butte's history and landscape, and the scars of the abuse remain evident. Little's murderers desecrated his body with the dimensions of a Montana grave, and today, Little's grave is his only physical mark on the landscape. Butte's metaphorical death, however, resulted in an enormous toxic grave - the pit. Little's story is illustrative, forming the structure of the film, but the pit represents hard evidence for the case against Anaconda, for the murder of Butte.

***

It's not surprising, with my (far) Left-leaning tendencies, that I enjoyed the propagandist nature of An Injury to One. On the other hand, I didn't find the first person POV and the meandering, meditative narration of Buffalo Common to be particularly engaging. Brown did a good job depicting " a whole state of marginal land," and I liked his use of imagery - particularly the desolate Main Street and various Norwegian historical sites. For me, the highlight of the film is the scene with Brown's interview subject in the foreground and the missile silo in the background; I love that we don't get to hear any of the interview and instead we just get Brown's narration (such a self-important thing to do!).

***

Quinn mentioned: "While the events in Injury happened almost 100 years ago, the film caused a much greater emotional response in me than with Buffalo Common, even though nuclear disarmament is a far more timely issue than unions in the US."

I think your reaction to Injury makes sense. We are all so young that we don't really know what it felt like to be in the middle of the Cold War. Nuclear proliferation is still an important issue, but it has become an abstract threat in most people's minds (it's hard for us to imagine being in a nuclear conflict). However, the effects of extractive technologies, the domination of corporations, war profiteering, and the exploitation of workers is still a big part of our lives. If you're a socially aware, liberal activist, the struggle in An Injury to One is the same struggle of today.

Week 3

Both of these films elicited somewhat of the same response in me. Although, An Injury to One goes deeper and is filled with more emotion, both dive into large issues shrouded or ( at least in my case) unknown about these two rural areas. In Buffalo Common, I was given the sense that nuclear silos were not a pressing concern for the inhabitants of North Dakota, and if they were then the point was on conveyed too strongly. However, both films portray scenic shots of quiet, simple towns and ask you to look underneath. The investigation is done for you in An Injury to One; and therefore, it leaves with you a stronger, more direct feeling. On the other hand, Buffalo Common let's you arrive at your own conclusion without deliberately saying too much? I like this about the film, even if I don't understand it. By the remark from Brown, "there was talk of turning North Dakota into a bison reserve." I was led to believe that as far as the government is concerned the missiles were the only economic and useful thing within the state. Butte, however, was a boom town and not so small in its heyday, but as I am proof, people have forgotten about its prosperity, fall, and very interesting history. What I gleaned from these two overlooked places is that within any spot no matter how small or desolate, there is a lot to be uncovered and examined. Both Brown and Wilkerson, found something they saw important in these places, whether it was the internal turmoil of mining unions in Butte or living nuclear-warhead adjacent.

Understanding and Aesthetics

Since the beginning of Buffalo Common I had a hard time grasping the point of the documentary since I didn't know what the silos were (the image didn't help much either) and had no idea about this part of US nuclear history. I wouldn't have minded a little bit more of contextualization in order to be able to follow the story and, consequently, understanding Brown's point. It seems that the documentary isn't meant to be a strait-forward argument since a few of us ended up with questions about it. If this was the author's objective he did a good job.

However, what really caught my attention was the long duration of the sequences and the framing of the majority of wide angle images. A big "empty" space, almost half of the frame, was left in the bottom of the screen driving our eyes to the top part were the information was being exposed. I wouldn't be sure if this had a specific purpose but it certainly made me think about the composition. At first I thought that it was an unconscious consequence of the hand held camera, yet, after watching it being repeated again and again I realized that it was the aesthetic of the shots. Can driven composition be seen merely as  an aesthetical artifact and still maintain the objectiveness of a narration?

Regarding An injury to one, I agree with the comments that address the propagandistic aim of the film and I must say that to a certain point I felt in a Socialist Karaoke session! Nonetheless, if I had to choose my "favorite part" of the documentary I would focus on the image and editing resources used to recreate the story: there is an exhaustive research for late 1800 pictures, newspapers, drawings, etc. and a great job in presenting all this material.  To my particular attention were the black and white logos of the trade union that conveyed a self-portrait of how workers wanted to be seen and the film sequences that had superimposed zoomed-in extracts of the same image. 

All this visual effort was needed to balance the darkness of the story and make it more dynamic, thus captivating. 

Buffalo Common and An Injury To One

I also had a hard time deciphering the intent of Buffalo Common. It seemed at times to suggest the emptiness and lack of people in North Dakota, then the economic problems of N. Dakota, and then suggest that nuclear warheads aren't a good idea. I think the film did a good job of giving the viewer a sense of N. Dakota (or at least the filmmakers sense of N. Dakota), from mentioning the idea of turning N. Dakota into one large bison park, to some of the shots that he took of the towns and surrounding countryside, to the people he chose to interview. Overall I thought the film lacked focus on one topic though and was left trying to mash 3 topics together and coming out with a disjointed film.

I liked an Injury to One quite a bit. At times the film was slow, such as when it would stick with one shot or one clip for an extended period of time, like the boy shooting the toy pistols. It broke up the action and the story. Aside from that I thought the story was very well told. The parts that I liked the most about the film were the use of text or images to accompany music or narration, the blacking out of portions of the screen to emphasize one thing (e.g. when a train moved across the screen the video above and below the train was black) and the use of multiple moving shots at the same time. It was also a compelling story. I particularly liked the shot that was taken from the back of a car driving through, what I assume is Butte. The meaning of the shot changes as the narration continues. At first I thought the shot was suggesting the men driving to arrest Frank Little but as the narration continues I realized that the shot is intended to suggest Frank Little being dragged out of Butte.

If anyone is interested I found a review of An Injury to One at http://www.monthlyreview.org/mrzine/rachleff010805.html

I.D. Please

North Dakota is the location of Bill Brown’s Buffalo Common. It is a place most people would recognize as the ugly step sister of the great and prosperous state of South Dakota. As illustrated by Bill’s stunning ability to pan around in a circle, many of these small towns, dotting the landscape of the upper plains, are marked by abandoned depressing buildings surrounding a once proud Main Street. Accompanying such images are breathtaking and masculine sounding descriptive accounts, which leave the listener riveted in their seat. It is comforting to hear of these simpletons going about their lives not only unaware and uncaring of the demolition of nuclear warheads in their backyard, but also unable to deal with the realities accompanying the modernization of the country.

Having grown up in South Dakota, the stereotypical Scandinavian Lutheran described in the movie, I have gotten to know these ignorant folks living just to the north, and although it has been scientifically proven that their cerebral cortex is developed to the equivalent level of a spider monkey, they can at times be quite charming. I have spent time in the small towns that Bill investigates in his movie and have seen that yes it takes someone with the mental fortitude of Gomer Pile to want to live there, but the culture also contains the remnants of a simpler time that the rest of society seems to covet.

This location brings to life how the modernization of agriculture is changing the landscape of rural areas, even though it makes no mention of this in the movie. Larger more efficient machinery is able to carry out the work in an hour that used to need twenty men a day to do, and so now that each farmer is able to cultivate a greater amount of land there are less farmers. This consequently leads to lower populations in rural towns, which have existed mainly as service communities dependent upon these farmers. Bill seems to tie this, the lowering of population, with economic despair, and that the only hope may be to make the entire state into a game preserve. I fail to see the correlation but instead know the reality. Smaller farms not able to eek out a profit are bought by bigger richer farms, and this process has been pretty constant in this area for the last seventy years. Contrary to what you might believe from seeing the location of this film, I still know lots of rich farmers, which is nice because they like to buy drinks at the bar.

The last point I would like to make about Bill Brown’s use of this location has to do with what is on his I.D. North Dakota might be my ugly step sister but that means that it is still family. It’s ok for me to make fun of them, because at the end of the day I love them. I don’t see any compassion here, only the cynical demeaning words of a self-righteous tree hugging hippy. This kind of elitist arrogance has been provoking a counter or conservative movement in this part of the country for years. Throughout the entire film there is only one moment of truth imparted, and that is when the comment is made that things are even worse in Montana.

Buffalo of One

Although Buffalo Common was a wee bit confusing, I don't think that the major theme of the work had anything to do with Nuclear Proliferation. Rather, I felt that the destroyed bunkers provided a metaphor for an area of the country that has been decimated economically and somewhat perhaps culturally in recent years. That metaphor was laid on so thick, though, that it distracted from the main goal. The bulk of the interview time was dedicated to anti-war protesters rather than to people of the town. And, the interviews of the people in the town seemed to almost make fun of the subjects (i.e. the guy with the model of the town). In this regard I missed the location as a character.

An Injury to One fills me with mixed emotions. On one had I do like the way that it felt and looked. The narrator's monotonous tones create a feeling of doom as well as unquestioned truth. The story was intriguing and compelling. But on the other hand, during the whole of the film I continued to think back to Rabinger's words. Rabinger suggested that a good documentary should portray both sides of the story. Even if it leans to one conclusion, at least it should have enough faith in the viewers to form the correct opinion on their own. In this case the total absence of Anaconda's side of the story was almost insulting in a way. I am not sure why to be honest, but I simply could not shake that feeling througout.

In terms of creating Butte as a character, I found that it turned out to be one of Dr. Jeckell and Mr. Hyde. On one hand you have the helpless and kind workers who simply want to get along with their lives without trouble, and on the other hand you have this beast of a company that wants nothing more than to take over the alter-ego. In this way there is an internal struggle. And, like in Dr. Jeckell and Mr. Hyde, only one of these personalities is given proper representation.

On that note, I saw some Irony in the fact that many of the scenes showed one object from two different perspectives (like the American flag against the wall)... Though I'm sure that this wasn't on purpose.

All and all though, I quite enjoyed it!

Nukes and Miners

I agree with Kristyn that "Buffalo Common"was a little scattered and unfocused at times. Was Bill Brown just telling us about his visit to the missile silos or was he trying to say something anti-nuclear war? However, I was intrigued because I found strange that this movie happened to be assigned the day after I get back from a trip to South Dakota where Devon and I drove by a missile museum. Additionally there were a couple of scenes that caught my eye. The first one is when Bill Brown is interviewing someone part of the "nuke watch" group (I think) and in a voice-over narration he says that he couldn't pay attention to this man talking about the landscape of North Dakota because the nuclear missile silo that was only yards away completely took over his thoughts. I thought this was one way in which the location took on a character of its own because it shows how the land is always on someones mind and even interfered with Bill Brown's focus. The other scene was the very last one with the old man who built the scale-model of the city. I haven't quite figured out why it captured my attention but I thought it was interesting that Brown ended the film with that shot.

"An Injury to One" was one that I didn't write down too many notes for because I was so intrigued by it. I especially enjoyed the treatment of the miner songs and the backdrops of the land that Wilkerson used for those songs. The land was anthropomorphised (is that a word?) by the use of statements such as "the land was left for dead" and implied that the land killed the geese thereby giving it human characteristics. Therefore, the location took on a character of its own.

Week 3 - Buffalo Common & An Injury to One

While I enjoyed both films, I had a much greater emotional response to An Injury to One; and, unlike Kristyn, I've spent much more time thinking about Wilkerson's film over the last few days than I've spent considering Bill Brown's Buffalo Common.

Wilkerson, by focusing the on the murder of Frank Little to provide a compelling narrative, created a metaphor for the death Butte, MT at the same time. Over the course of the film, we learn of the rise and fall of Butte - from small, frontier town, to copper boomtown, to Superfund site. Through still images and Wilkerson's narration, the viewer gets a sense of the crowded, squalid conditions of early 20th century Butte. Wide, landscape shots show us modern day Montana, but rarely do we glimpse clear images of the streets of latter-day Butte. Instead, Wilkerson emphasizes the abandoned open-pit mine, flooded with toxic water: the legacy of the Anaconda mining company. The story of Little's involvement with the mining union and the description of his brutal murder present the case against Anaconda for exploiting of the town and the workers; while Little is an obscure figure, almost lost to history without this film, Anaconda's exploitation shaped Butte's history and landscape, and the scars of the abuse remain evident. Little's murderers desecrated his body with the dimensions of a Montana grave, and today, Little's grave is his only physical mark on the landscape. Butte's metaphorical death, however, resulted in an enormous toxic grave - the pit. Little's story is illustrative, forming the structure of the film, but the pit represents hard evidence for the case against Anaconda, for the murder of Butte.

***

It's not surprising, with my (far) Left-leaning tendencies, that I enjoyed the propagandist nature of An Injury to One. On the other hand, I didn't find the first person POV and the meandering, meditative narration of Buffalo Common to be particularly engaging. Brown did a good job depicting "a whole state of marginal land," and I liked his use of imagery - particularly the desolate Main Street and various Dutch historical sites. For me, the highlight of the film is the scene with Brown's interview subject in the foreground and the missile silo in the background; I love that we don't get to hear any of the interview and instead we just get Brown's narration (such a self-important thing to do!).

***

Quinn mentioned: "While the events in Injury happened almost 100 years ago, the film caused a much greater emotional response in me than with Buffalo Common, even though nuclear disarmament is a far more timely issue than unions in the US."

I think your reaction to Injury makes sense. We are all so young that we don't really know what it felt like to be in the middle of the Cold War. Nuclear proliferation is still an important issue, but it has become an abstract threat in most people's minds (it's hard for us to imagine being in a nuclear conflict). However, the effects of extractive technologies, the domination of corporations, war profiteering, and the exploitation of workers is still a big part of our lives. If you're a socially aware, liberal activist, the struggle in An Injury to One is the same struggle of today.

An Injury to One and Buffalo Common

My initial reaction to An Injury to One was “why don’t I know about Frank Little and the IWW? And why hasn’t there been a movie made out of this story?” Clearly, I need to get used to thinking about documentaries. The movie contained no reenactments and relied on still photos, text on the screen, and voice over to tell the story of the unions in Butte. The photos and close-ups of Little’s body, complete with knees skinned to the bone, made the events seem as gruesome as they were, I wonder if a Hollywood movie would be so stomach churning? The film was obviously biased against Anaconda and, while the majority of time was spent on their abuse of people, the end did bring in the abuse to the land. The long, still shots of the MT landscape, particularly during the miners’ songs, introduced us to the land before the geese and poisoned lake at the end.
While the events in Injury happened almost 100 years ago, the film caused a much greater emotional response in me than with Buffalo Common, even though nuclear disarmament is a far more timely issue than unions in the US. There was less propaganda involved in Buffalo, despite the presence of peace activists, and no central figure to sympathize for. Also, because the missile silos originally brought some funds to the state and their presence and subsequent destruction seemed to have very little local environmental impact, the land played a smaller role than the people and the towns. The presence of copper in MT led to the mining company, miners, and unions so the land is a central character and, by using colored shots of the land and tying in environmental impact at the end, that was emphasized.
The images for both Injury and Buffalo did capture the immensity of MT and ND by showing a lot of sky and clouds. Images of eastern states would probably concentrate on forest, cityscapes or cookie cutter housing developments, but the sky seems to be the defining feature for western states. There were also a lot of shots of run down looking buildings; the filmmakers made both states look marginal, even though only in Buffalo was that stated.

Week 3

In the film Buffalo Common, it seemed to me that the narration often did not match with the image- for instance at one point the narrator was talking about the activists passionately fighting the missle silos, while showing pictures of run down and desolate towns. This seemed confusing to me. Was the narrator trying to make the point that the missle silos caused the decline of these small rural agricultural towns? Or are the images ironic- like the activists should be more concerned with the people in the town, who are clearly more in need of help, than missle silos, which are beyond their control? The narrator at times is clearly against the silos, but the images seem ambigious. Maybe this is a case of the location taking on a character of its own. The feel of the film is further confused by the cuts to scenes of car racing, or tennis courts, or random buildings while commenting on churches. Is the film about the missle silos or the empty towns left behind?

In comparison, An Injury to One is almost brutally clear, with none of the rambling confusion of Buffalo Commons. The message is literally spelled out and there is no doubt about the location the film is trying to portray ("Poisonville"). In a way, I like this approach more, because it is easier to watch, but it is also easier to put behind you. The message is delivered and complete and we can feel bad for Frank (Henry?) Little, the miners, and the geese, but then it is easy to file it away and think of something else. Conversely, I keep coming back to Buffalo Commons because I don't get it, and keep wondering what was the point of it, what was it trying to tell us? It is unresolved, so though I didn't perticulary enjoy watching it, it was more successful in making me think about the location.

week 2

At the present time Spain, especially the region of Andalusia, present an alarming lack of qualified scientists who posses training in media projects, such as the production of natural history films or documentaries. Scientists today are unable to appeal to the general population because they use complex terminology that many people may be unfamiliar with. Consequently, a number of scientists’ works pass by unnoticed by society.

This Master of Fine Arts in Science and Natural History Filmmaking at Montana State University is the only one in the world of its kind, not only for its subject matter but also for its practical content. This graduate program offers the best preparation today providing the ideal training required to produce high quality documentaries, also giving the chance to meet valuable contacts in order to later be able to build a great career in this industry.

With the knowledge that I acquire in this postgraduate course, and also drawing upon my previous academic education, I would like to introduce an innovative methodology in the treatment of our ecological and cultural richness.

The purpose is to make people aware of the problems that affect humanity today and try to involve them in environmental and developmental local projects. The use of a more accesible and attractive perspective to expose the stories and scientific concepts will make these documentaries more entertaining and informative, bringing as a consequence, a better understanding of science and its many uses.

week 2 Mind the gap

As an undergraduate Biology student at the "Universidad de los Andes", in Bogotá, I realized that there were a few things about scientific research that I didn't like. First of all, the publish or perish dilemma could easily make my passion for animals evaporate and with it my future as a scientist.Additionally, the deep field specialization that sciences are suffering made me project myself as a PhD in ecology and evolution of the pinky of certain tropical frog or in behavioural ecology of the right pupil of an Andean Tanager. I was then going to be forced to leave behind the study of many of the animals that made me became a Biologist. Furthermore, and this was the subject of my application essay, I am really concerned with the big gap we find today between a science publication and an average person. There isn't an effective link between these two worlds consequently reducing science's practical purposes. So there was my future, I wanted to divulge science and what better than doing so as a filmmaker.

My journey into the world of photography started on 2001 and as I got addicted to the medium I jumped from black and white film, to slides and finally digital. Obviously, nature became my major interest and during my bachelors I would only take pictures of wildlife... This "artistic" approach to biology, and the sensations that pictures produced in people helped me reinforce my decision of becoming a filmmaker.

Now I'm here, I must say that I feel lucky, learning as much as I can and hoping to go back to Colombia with a bunch of you to shoot at one of the most beautiful countries for Science and Natural History Filmmakers.


Federico

Week 2

Although I graduated with a B.S. in Entomology, I spent more than half of my time at Cornell University pursuing a degree in Biology with a concentration in Ecology and Evolutionary Biology. I was quick to apply for a transfer, however, once I realized that I could escape the Pre-Med requirements and mentality of the Biology major, while still earning a similar, but more specialized, degree. I loved my new department - not only was I studying insects (and spiders!) in-depth, but entomology was an excellent lens to continue to examine my main areas of interest: ecology, animal behavior, conservation biology, and evolutionary biology.

I wasn't part of any research work until 2004, when a large ornithology lab needed an entomologist to look through some insect samples, and I offered to help. (The lab studies tree swallows, which are aerial insectivores, and so insect distribution and availability is an important part of studying their life history strategy.) And so, only a few semesters away from graduation, I began spending many hours a week looking through a microscope, counting flies in dishes of alcohol.

Not too surprisingly, I did not particularly enjoy doing this. It was always such a relief when I could help out in the field, checking nests and mist-netting adult birds for various measurements. And even though the field work was a refuge, I began questioning my desire to lead the life of an academic. Even if I could find the type of research I enjoyed, I couldn't imagine devoting myself to one species or one system for long enough to build a career.

At the time of these revelations, my boyfriend was taking a film production course at Ithaca College, and I helped plan and implement a couple of the projects. We enjoyed the filmmaking process, and were exciting by the results we produced. And then, in the Summer of 2005, we had our first experiences with documentary and nature filmmaking when we became involved with an effort to save an urban woodland at the edge of Cornell Campus. After a multi-year legal struggle between the University and the town, students decided to take action into their own hands by occupying the woods to prevent it from being cut down and turned into a parking lot. Thinking Cornell was making a tragic mistake, we spent the Summer with the students, faculty, and townspeople who were trying to save the woods and filmed their effort. Ignoring a few, brief moments of blind hope, I never thought this campaign could succeed, but it was important to me to create a record of the Woods and to document Cornell's actions (ideally, for future scrutiny). Ultimately, the woods were paved, but it was an incredible real-world lesson in grassroots organizing, running a campaign, trust, and power. And, by the time it was all over, I knew that I wanted to make movies.

After graduating, I spent several months trying to find an institution that would consider giving me a higher degree for combining my interests of science and filmmaking. Just when I thought I had exhausted the possibilities, I stumbled upon this program's website in a very roundabout way. Within the week, I was on a plane to attend the final prospective student orientation of the year, and I've been focused on this program and career path ever since.

I believe that film is an ideal medium for science education. It is engaging and accessible, but can also be used to convey complex and challenging messages. For the time being, I want to make movies that are entertaining, promote science literacy, and push a (mostly) subtle conservation agenda. I don't have very specific goals for while I am here, but it's important to me that the program’s faculty are experienced yet recognize the need for innovation in the discipline. I hope to have new ideas and lots of practical know-how by the time I've graduated, and I'm sure this program will meet my expectations.

A Moment of "Truth"

In near white out conditions, we were 3000 feet from the summit of Mount Everest. The expedition had been bogged down at Camp IV for several days, attempting to await a clearing, in which we could make our dash for the summit. At just over 26,000 feet in elevation, the air was thin enough that the simple act of breathing became a bodily function one now suddenly became aware of. The lack of oxygen over time takes it toll on the mind, restless nights awakened by vivid dreams pass by before days of numb dizziness prey upon what’s left of the psyche, giving the illusion of a chemical high.

It was in this moment of clarity that I, at the ripe old age of 24, was able to reflect on the life I had known, as never before. Images came of the father I had never met, along with a childhood friend I had let take the rap for stealing my mother’s cigarettes. This was the state of mind I was in when the timeless impending human question arose. What is the purpose of my life? At that moment the zipper on my tent suddenly ripped open and a man I had never seen before clumsily stepped in, pushing aside blankets and other random camping equipment to procure a space to sit. I attempted to speak, but the rush of ice cold wind which accompanied his entrance took my breath away.

After the sash was firmly secured he turned to me with a face dark and worn, and gently spoke in a form of broken English and an accent hauntingly familiar to that of Yoda. “Hello, Devon.”

“Hi?” I responded timidly, not wanting to confront someone in the throws of altitude dementia. Tentatively I continued. “Who are you?”

“Ah. Searching for answers, you are.”

“Um…Yes…Who are you?” I asked once again as my eyes steadily examined the stranger before me. His clothing was bizarre, and seemed to be constructed of animal hide. Even more ominous was the hand fashioned spear protruding from his pack.

“Not those answers you seek, but that for your life.” He breathed deeply and audibly through his nose. “My name in Nanook, and a message I have. There exists a land of kings, to must you go, to find what you seek.”

I hid a smile and sympathetically decided to humor the old man. “Alright dude. Sounds good, but where is this land of kings?”

Through the deep shadows cast by the hanging lantern, his eyes shone with the sparkle of the devil being tortured by the lyrical stylings of David Hasselhof. Gently, over the whipping wind bombarding the tent, he whispered, “MSU.” A second later the mysterious messenger disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving only a camera in his place. As I ran my hands over the cold piece of metal, my fingertips found in its side an engraving and the name, “Flaherty.”

From Hell Fire and Brimstone to Primate Boy

Like many life stories that come through our program, mine is one of disillusionment.

Growing up in the land of the southern baptist I found myself, even as a young boy, defending the notion of evolution. Such was my conviction that I began to obsess over my weekly arguments in Sunday School.

Imagine my surprise when I landed at Beloit College (in Wisconsin), a school that put the "liberal" in liberal arts, and found a group of like-minded people who fanned the flame of my love affair with evolution. Naturally I chose a double-major in Behavioral Ecology and Physical Anthropology. Although I had an idea growing up that I wanted to study evolution in some degree, any doubts were quelled when I took a semester in Tanzania. There I had the chance to study in the Serengeti, one of the most fantastic ecosystems in one of the most amazing countries, in the most amazing continent that I have ever been.

My obsession with biology, evolution, and Africa all boiled together in such a way that right after finishing college I went off to the Congo/Central African Republic to work with Gorillas. I have to say that this year, without even reliable mail, was the best of my life. But, what career choices are available to those who obsess with wildlife? I figured that there were two, making documentaries (which I grew up loving) and becoming an academic (which my parents are).

Seems I had absolutely no experience with film, I chose the latter and after a few years bartending, I went to the University of Pennsylvania to study non-human primate vocal communication and cognition with my college heros.

I finished my masters studying the very gorillas that I had worked with two years before and then moved on to begin my PhD work on gelada monkeys, a type of pseudo-baboon living in the Ethiopean highlands. But through the three years I found myself loving every second of the field work. In the field I was myself. I was secure. But in the classroom, working on the academics, and trying to publish, I was lost. I was confused...

Around this time my interest in photography began to grow. I found that I could sit in front of a photo for three hours, but hardly spend 30 minutes reading from a journal. And, while in Ethiopia, several film crews came to get footage on my monkeys. This sealed the deal for me. I had to work in documentaries.

As soon as I came back to the states I found this program, and two years later (I took a year off because of a certain lady friend) I find myself in this program.

Missing the Gulls

As most of you probably know by now, about a week ago I was living on an island off the coast of New Hampshire, running an educational marine lab. I was only there for three months, but I think living in a closed community and then shifting abruptly into a new situation has left me in shock. I'm still expecting to hear seagulls and crashing waves outside my window when I wake up in the morning. It's something I hope I can get over soon (I think all the film lit is helping).
Because it has been a difficult few days I have been trying to remind myself why I came here. Firstly, I studied in Ireland, where the education system is a bit more classical (i.e. classes and labs from 9am-6pm everyday, endless research and thesis writing). Living and studying there was amazing, but I had no idea what I wanted to do when I came back to the US. My thesis was on a specific groups of cells involved in spinal cord regeneration in zebrafish. It was interesting, but not thrilling in the least, and I absolutely hated working in the lab 12 hours a day. Taking EM photographs of the results was the best part! I took a year off after I graduated, thinking I could find a job in some sort of science, but that didn't work out, so I worked in an office. I had researched this program back when I was still in Ireland, but because I had no film background, I didn't think I had the experience required to gain acceptance.
Overall, the thing that attracted me to a carreer in film making is that I will never be stuck studying one animal, one issue, or one habitat for the rest of my life. Maybe I have commitment issues, but at least I may eventually have opportunitites to travel, to study some of the more fascinating things in the world, and to meet amazing people and creatures along the way. I'm here because Montana is far from where I feel comfortable, and I felt like it was time to challenge myself again.

Week 2

I have always had a fascination with homicide and thought I wanted to be a Forensic Pathologist. When I realized I didn't have the fortitude to go through medical school, however, I pursued the study of death and dying at a unique hospice program founded by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and a Tibetan Rinpoche. I got an MA in Engaged Buddhism, which is basically, a social work degree taught from a Buddhist perspective. After graduation, I fell away from academia and began living out the Christopher McCandless ideology. Then I discovered the punk rock scene and spent several years engaged in the music and art of that subculture. Eventually, I ended up going back to work for the family construction business. The monotony of operating heavy equipment and the irony of getting finances from developing the land, drove me back to school. I am currently working out the details with a victim/perpetrator mediation group to film in the Deer Lodge prison and dialoguing with a kidnapper about doing a case study on him. My ultimate goal is to interview serial predators and then analyze the footage after it has been slowed down to try to determine if there are subtle, unconscious aspects of a socio-psychopathic personalities that we might be able to detect before they harm someone. I am also working on a project about the Stockholm Syndrome and battered women. I see film and the camera as a key that can get us into places we would never otherwise be able to go. Finally, I want to do international investigative work on crimes against society like neocolonialism.

Just 3 More Years to Go, Hopefully

During my six previous years of being a graduate student I discovered a few things I hadn’t learned as an undergraduate. Among them is that, while I loved playing in a lab, I really didn’t want to be a professor or go into industry, the two jobs most people talk about when you’re in a PhD program, and that there actually exists a field of study focused on the act of doing science and all of the assumptions that have gone into it over the years. These two things lead me to spend less time in the lab and more time taking science, technology, and society (STS) courses. However, after seeing that STS is just as unreflexive as science the thought of moving into that field was no longer appealing. I also realized that a lot of people who are supposed to be working towards public science literacy think the public consists of “buffoons” (which doesn’t sit well with me because they’re talking about my mom and everybody else in my family) or, at the very least, only interested if something is blowing up. Combine all of this with the fact that I love movies and, when I learned that this program existed, I was immediately interested. I want to use what I learn here to teach adults, who despite their lack of formal science education are not stupid, how science really works. This doesn’t just mean explaining Newton’s Laws or thermodynamics but showing people that deliberate decisions are made about what research we fund, that just because we can do it maybe we shouldn’t, and scientific progress isn’t always positive.

Kid in a Candy Store (if you replace the candy with cameras)

I was sitting in my embryology lab during my junior year of college and eavesdropping on a conversation between the teacher and another student. I overhead them talking about this science and natural history filmmaking program in Bozeman. I listened for a whole two seconds before I interjected saying, "How do I apply?" and "where the hell is Bozeman?" This was exactly the kind of program I was looking for in order to combine my interest in photography and my love of the sciences. I needed a creative outlet but at the same time I didn't want to stop my career in Biology. I had already tried the pre-vet and pre-med path and realized that neither were the one for me. I had no interest in spaying and neutering animals all day and I had even less interest in dealing with all the legal baggage that comes with being a doctor. I guess in a way I always knew that I would be doing something like this because when I was little I would carry around this little purse and I would call it my "postcard maker". Whenever we went on family vacations I would bring this purse along and take imaginary photos and video of what I thought was "postcard material."
I was a little hesistant about whether I could handle the software and time-consuming editing process required for this program so I decided to apply to a digital photography internship at the Oregon Zoo in Fall 07' to test it out. I ended up getting the job and I found myself completely entralled with it. I was, for the lack of a better simile, like a kid in a candy store. I became more confident in my creative skills and decided to the SNHF program. I think you guys can guess how the rest went.

Pleased as punch

At my previous university, the vast majority of biological science majors count the days until they can slap the M.D. at the end of their name, and the remainder, well I don't know what the remainder really does. I count myself in the remainder, but I know I was alone in my decision to pursue this path. 

 Tooling around the internet one night in my junior year, I had one of those, "What exactly am I gonna do after I graduate moments." So with a burst of initiative, I hopped off of youtube and started searching my careers and the like. I even was searching through outlandish, pipe dream careers like wildlife filmmaking, go figure! Coincidentally, I came upon this program and was very relieved that here was this credible school that gives you a master's degree in exactly what I would always have loved to go school for, and they are sponsored by all these nice little companies I have always wanted to work for.

So I spent my senior year with this program in mind, and tried to tailor classes more towards subjects and independent studies that could assist in my acceptance. This lead to my only real film/tv experience, which involved being a production assistant (fancy title for a guy who researched local SC frogs and reptiles for an independent study) for a PBS show about local southeastern fauna.

I regret not taking film/script/photography classes throughout college to prepare myself for the next three years, but that's just how it goes I guess. I'm really enjoying Bozeman, and from first impressions of the classes, I'm gonna complain, but learn a lot in the process. This program, like many of you have already expressed, combines artistic creativity and science in a medium that people find entertaining and educational. And I am truly excited and thankful to be doing something in graduate school that is more exciting than anything I can think of.