Bitches be crazy

Documentaries are usually meant to shock people. They are meant to make people say Holy shit this is real. I can’t believe this really goes on. SHENANIGANS! BLASPHEMY! SHAME ON SOCIETY! 

In a sense they share the same qualities that a light night infomercial has- This is our deal. Buy it. Buy into it. Do both, and do it now.

Unless you take a historical documentary for example, virtually every documentary ever produced is untruthful- it is always biased, because no matter how much of the information that comprises of said documentary, it is the information that the film maker has fed to you. They’re the ones feeding the information to the uneducated audience, and while they are allowing you to make up your own mind, it’s all under the guidance of their steady hand- You make the decision based on the information they provide.

Take for example, the First Person documentary about Sondra London. You take a woman who has ideals and a view point that are debatably crazy. Then during production of the interview, you choose obscure and dramatic camera angles, and couple this with harsh lighting that casts odd shadows on her face, and then incorporate some sly editing techniques that add to your cause and you have a subject that can by no means be described as of a sound mind.

Sondra London- Batshit crazy.

Personally, I think she was crazy, with or without the biased production- to fall in love with a rapist and savage murderer is not something a sane person could do.

Had the documentary have portrayed her in an unbiased manner, she probably would not have come across as the way she did (I’d still think she was crazy, just less crazy). But that’s just the issue I’m trying to point out. The film maker has said these are the facts I’m giving you, and it’s all true- make your own decision. But how exactly is an audience supposed to gain a true understanding of the truth when it’s delivered in such a way?

The truth is there is no truth, in any form of film. Every piece of moving footage ever documented is taken from a particular viewpoint. When any film is edited, reality and time are automatically dissected and reassembled. The only thing you can be certain of, is that you will never have an unbiased opinion, but hopefully you will have the intellectual capabilities of understanding what is biased, and what is not.

In-class ink blot tests

I think ink blot tests are a therapist’s way of testing how much shit is on your mind- they just throw 50 random images at you and gauge your response. That was basically the jist of last week’s class- 3 hours, a dozen clips, and a discussion on each clip immediately after each screening.

Whether this is worth mentioning or not, one thing that struck me about The Cabinet of Dr Caligari was that if Tim Burton were to ever be in the therapist’s office (and perhaps taking inkblot tests), he would describe this film as something that haunted his dreams as a child. Black blacks and white whites, surreal and almost childlike sets which seem to mirror the nightmarish emotion of the film, and some very pale characters- Not to mention that “Edward Scissorhands” comes up as a related search on Google- The film has to be an early influence on him.

The Cabinet of Dr Caligari

I wish I could keep writing about Caligari, if only to procrastinate and avoid moving on to discussing the clip which had the biggest effect on me… or rather AFFECT... I’m still unsure which word I should be using here- I need a grammar Nazi biting my ankles so i can be sure- Given that my reaction to the scene was almost physical, I wanna say affect.

I’m big on tough justice- rapists should be strung up and have their “weapons” removed, in the most painful way possible. But having seen this act carried out on screen, I…

* I've been stuck on this sentence for about 15 minutes, I don’t actually have the words to describe how I feel about that scene*

I think I need to jump back a little.

I Spit On Your Grave- The bathtub scene.

Claymation still wouldn't have softened the blow of this scene.

I don’t know if it was the victims delayed reaction to what happened; the screaming; the way the blood just bubbled up from below the surface of the water; or even just the casual way that Jennifer jumps into a chair after throwing a record on to drown out the sounds of a man screaming and bleeding to death behind a locked door 10 feet away.

As much as I don’t want to think about it, it keeps coming back to me, and I don’t know why. About the only thing I know for certain is that I never ever (ever. ever. EVER) want to have my penis removed with a butcher’s knife.

To be honest, I already knew that, it’s just that watching this scene has cemented that fact. No knives.

Ever.

Please.

Cheers.