TAT - A Student Political Film - Reflexive Account

TAT 

Inspiration & Development of the Manifesto 

The Nature of Violence and Conflict, its Depiction and its Political Power: 

A notable bearing on the thematic angle of TAT came from director Paul Verhoeven and his use of political and social satire, especially in Starship Troopers (Dir. Paul Verhoeven, 1997). Rows of young, naive and unfocussed students idle in a uniformly grey and structured classroom; the pupils’ teacher of “History and Moral Philosophy,” Mr. Rasczak, played by Michael Ironside, prowls the regimented space, towering over each student, his missing left arm a testament to his dedication to citizenship, and he lectures why only “citizenship” grants someone the power to vote. None of the pupils answer of their own volition, and so the film weaves in an almost imperceptible display of the absentness within the pupils; they are in a nest of naivety, ripe for influence, showing a lack of independence; instead they expect to be told, by those in charge; to be expressly ordered how to respond demonstrates how implicitly coerced by authoritative voice they collectively are. Mr. Rasczak, the embodiment of this voice, then posits to the students where when one votes, they are “exercising political authority” and thus using “force,” and this force, he conjectures, is “violence, the supreme authority from which all other authority derives.”  

Violence and political authority being intrinsically linked, a fascinating albeit deeply disturbing premise, and the satirical context in which it is used in the film, the irony of its delivery, were paramount aspects latched onto in drawing inspiration for the project. The film itself provided an intriguing bedrock with its meta-fictional reading, one which has become a more dominant textual and political reading in the years since its release, triggered by events of the US-Iraq War, with reappraisals realising its over-arching satirical point and the meta-fiction of it being “a film within a film.” This crux served as a driving inspiration, a tonal and political inspiration. The idea arose that the entire piece itself would be a meta-commentary: it would be imagined as an extract taken from a television channel within a perverse world, perverse yet eerily parallel to our own. 

“...[D]ecidedly dialogic texts, themselves cinematic conflicts.” (Telotte, J.P., 1999) The ‘cinematic conflict’ was an exciting prospect to develop. Already about conflict within the world, a cinematic conflict added depth, one which challenged the viewer to challenge themselves and the film; the manifestation of conflict can be so easily generated, and it is frightening yet it can also be tameable, something which arises from self-awareness and reflection, as the piece aimed to leave the viewer thinking. In opposition to Verhoeven’s style, our film deliberately chooses to skirt violent imagery in the manifesto, standing as repudiation of force, of ruling voices, in their machinations to stoke war. Whereas Verhoeven’s films often depicted very brutal and bloody violence, almost to a comical degree, our group became of the conviction that an effort was to be made to expressly not present gore in such gratuity but in fact to strip that away into the abstracted, creating a challenge to craft alternate ideas of how to grate the audience, to mesmerise with the abrasiveness of the imagery, the film’s form in of itself being an uncomfortable abstraction of the unerring absurdity and incomprehensibility of war. Of course, the aesthetic qualities of live-action Hollywood filmmaking in Verhoeven’s films were set aside; as Norman McLaren is quoted  “A filmmaker has a desire to make a film that is not like a previous film," a sentiment which underpinned many decisions taken on the project; the pursuit of finding some modicum of uniqueness within the piece was crucial in striking impact and doing justice to terror of war.  

Production:  

The Opening/Ending: 

(Figure 1. TAT’s Introduction sequence, also serving as a looping point for the end.) 

The throbbing visuals (see Figure 1) to begin with are meant to act as a "prelude" to the start of a new "broadcast" on this fictional, bizarre, alternate TV channel; it is meant to set the mood, show the audience something is off and transport them into this very perverse new reality. The liquid and the animated bubbles act like cells forming together and evolving. This evolution leads into two primary bubbles emerging, two different colours, though of similar mass, each then immediately vying for the space on screen, each trying to dominate the other; but from this jockeying of sparks a glimmer, a radical other, represented by the white line. Somewhat reminiscent of McLaren’s Dots (1940) film and Lines films (1962), this white line flies more effortless from point to point, demonstrating its “freedom,” an escape from the domineering forces of the two rival, coloured factions. These two factions, the two bubbles, are frightened by the white line, indicated in their recoiling, the white line’s free-flowing motion and their lack of control over it. Once the line exits, they split to find a way to pincer it and control it. All this is metaphorical showcasing a McLaren-inspired use of experimental animation and its “deconstructive and transformational potential.” (Paakspuu, K., 2021) 

The nature of conflict originating in life from a fundamental stage and playing an intrinsic role in evolution is a propagation by this alternate world to show how conflict is ingrained in everything and how, ironically, it is a way of life. It is this kind of constant bombardment of representation and imagery that is exactly what perpetuates the normality of war, especially devious as it's shown in animation, making it accessible to, and perversely targeted towards, children to indoctrinate. The inspiration taken from works of McLaren and Fischinger tap into the childlike wonderment of animation, its abstractedness exactly what can mesmerise and infiltrate the mind. 

Sound Design: 

During production, it became apparent that sound design was to be a vital aspect of the piece. Sound can do so many things. It's one of the most powerful tools in a filmmaker's arsenal. As well as the filmmaker’s toolkit its potency parallels one of the most influential aspects in politics: the sound of the orator, the voice of authority. Sound can be used to communicate tone, build atmosphere and maintain the illusion of movement, particularly within the realm of animation, by tricking the audience into thinking they are seeing more than in fact there is to be observed. This notion of the artistry in sound “tricking” the viewer perfectly encapsulates the metaphysical layer in which the film operates and how its function, in the film’s own fictional reality is to slyly and imperceptibly deceive, much how like media today creates narratives and agendas in tales.  

A more contemporary use of sound in animation, Studio Ghibli productions, typically animate on twos or threes. One might be easily misled into thinking that the animation would appear choppy or disjointed and especially compared with something more smooth and closer to reality like what is animated on ones, like comparing it to Akira (dir. Katsuhiro Otomo, 1988); but a constant bed of sound is what helps keep those static frames alive, in a sense. Again, it deceives the brain into thinking it is seeing and processing more than what is surreptitiously being withheld. With the sound filling in these gaps, animation is given its texture; it's the extra depth of the two-dimensional image. The viewer becomes not merely a perceiver of the world but an engrossed, living participant.  

The bed of sound that dips and peaks throughout, a bombardment on the viewer, a satirical exaggeration of modern media, this constant noise and repetition, encapsulating both commotion of conflict and the resonance of everyday life. The old-film aesthetic, with grainy images and a four-by-three aspect ratio, complimented this creative choice well where there may be dips and peaks in the sound, so as not to fully desensitise the viewer, but also the retro style, not only for its nostalgic quality, also provided the constant noise; the static, some kind of noise is perpetual, keeping the viewer’s mind never wholly at ease. Therefore, a Freudian need to return to the womb arises; yet even in the womb, the sound penetrates the safeguarding walls. The undulating, pulsating, guttural hums evoke the desperate need to ensconce the mind and yet its synthesised, electronic intrusion demonstrates how even such a sacred spot in the human psyche is encroached upon by the social and political purveyors. 

Sound design is a language that can explore “self-reflexivity, and shifts in subjectivity” (Whittington, W., 2007); it need not be translated, localized or substituted. This almost universal understanding of sound was appealing to focus on as sewing a story through sound design (not dialogue) has been an element which has transcended borders, allowing even disparate countries and cultures to share the experience. To share this self-reflexivity, this democratisation of the viewing experience showed how pivotal it was, in relation to the themes of conflict, to in fact reinforce the togetherness of humanity. Perhaps this is aggrandising the film, but the concept proved key in furthering the desire to invest in the sound design alongside the visuals. The political notions of an abstract film, on the issue of war and conflict, being able to unite viewers in its experience has powerful potential. 

Film Reception: Critical Analysis of the Final Film 

After the screening, from the reaction I gathered from our film in that cinema room, there was a sense of bemusement and perhaps, I like to believe, a sense of intrigue and invigoration. If I was to distil the aim of this piece in its entirety into one notion, it would be ‘to invigorate about conflict in all its aspects’. That is what art, films especially, can instigate and that is why, since its inception, it has been used for political aims. Like with Eisenstein and Soviet ‘Agitprop’, the same agitation of the viewer was intended; with our work, the use of montage theory, especially with the archival material, from Agitprop share those qualities but of course the intended result was rather different: the means were shared but the ends were opposed. Whereas Soviet Agitprop was often made to spark more propagandist rhetoric for certain political agendas amongst its audiences, we aimed to be more abstract, forcing viewers dig deeper in their understanding of the film and its meta-analysis, rather than be fed images of what is “meant to be.” Ironically, that propaganda is exactly what is being parodied in TAT. 

Some feedback introduced the idea that an initial perception was that the two primary colours used in the animation, red and blue, in fact correlated to political parties, such as blue and red representing the Conservative and Labour parties respectively. This was quite a striking notion which hadn’t been fully realised during the development of the project, with emphasis of colour serving more as a thematic device, representing fundamental building blocks and reminiscence of childhood. What was reinforced was the idea of politics and colour being inextricably linked. It exposed how colour has represented political territory; divisions sown from these primary colours, highlight how habitually honed humans are in distinguishing and separating. Truly fascinating was how the piece was able to spark further discussion from what was anticipated, a key aim in creating discourse – and all change comes first from discourse. 

(Figure 2. A glitch in the film, during one of the later transition segments.) 

Another student provided feedback on how the various “glitches” (see Figure 2) interspersed throughout, notably in the transition segments, appeared to build as the piece went along but did not end up going anywhere. Here there was both a degree of creative intention and failed actualisation. The glitches were meant to represent a faulting system, seemingly breaking down under its own weight of deceit, deceit of authority, moulding each generation to perpetuate conflict. The expectation, the want, of the audience is that ‘pay-off to set-up' narrative mechanism, fundamental in storytelling (Ryan, M. and Lenos, M., 2020); and, yet there is no such ‘glitch crescendo,’ merely a loop round to the start, continuing the cycle. Not to regurgitate the platitude but this subversion played an intrinsic role in its frustration, agitating the viewer, a rallying call either as an expression of hopeless pathos in the wake of a seeming inevitable constant of self-destruction, or as a wake-up call to the viewer, to agitate a dismissal of the apparent absoluteness of conflict, to invigorate the idea that it does not have to be that way.  

“If nature is unjust, change nature.” (Cuboniks, L., 2018.) 

Indeed, this quote was infamously used in Xenofeminism’s ultimate call to action in their manifesto, but I believe it pertains as it can be applied to the idea of conflict. It posits the idea of a potentially naturalistic fallacy that war is indelible and a fact of life, but the notion contradicts this in a profound way; that is to agitate the viewer in reflecting upon the influences of the everyday that perpetuate this and to question – why? The political wake of feminism has established itself rightly as a force to be reckoned with. So, this film proved an experiment in the application of such a quote in the deconstruction of the oppression authority holds in the excuse of nature. There was a sense however, an unfortunately nihilistic sense, that viewers saw the film as more an expose of how war, conflict and destruction were inescapable and inevitable due to human nature. Thus, there was an overuse of abrasive imagery throughout the piece, a too consistent use of the theme without a break necessary to clarify. A pause, a more overtly directed message for the viewer may have assuaged some from the dourer interpretation. A more clear, concise declaration of intent would have fitted it in with other political pieces but would have reduced its ambiguity, a difficult balance in art. 

Ultimately, one key notion to take from this journey, was the problem of ambiguity in the artistic expression within the political scene. What was set out to be done was an experiment, an exploration in the concept of conflict, in all its permutations and manifestations, and thus, from such a thrusting of abstract, abrasive, verging on Dadaist, imagery was to ignite a self-reflexive revulsion of human conflict, of war, of desperate suffering for the sake a pitiable end, ultimately. The ambiguity presented through the film’s abstract nature may have diluted its impact – not in its sensory experience, though more in its political efficacy. It was an experiment attempting to push the audience’s sensory proportions. Yet, upon writing this reflexive account and analysing it, I am reminded of Roland Barthes’ Death of the Author: once the film is released, the author becomes irrelevant; it is the viewer who makes the message. Even Nietzsche’s works, like the idea of the Übermensch, have been misinterpreted and reappropriated to serve sinister political purposes. An odd note to finish on, but ultimately both the curse and beauty of the abstract is the individual’s freedom to interpret it, both in art and politics. 

Appendix: TAT Manifesto 

Bibliography: 

Anderson, Z., 2022. Necessarily Problematic: Archival Looking in Arthur Jafa’s' Love Is The Message, The Message Is Death'. Film Criticism, 46(1). 

Arendt, H., 1969. Reflections on violence. Journal of International Affairs, pp.1-35. 

Arnold, D., 2016. A Companion to Dada and Surrealism. John Wiley & Sons. 

Barthes, R., 1977. The death of the author, 1968. na. 

Cuboniks, L., 2018. The xenofeminist manifesto: A politics for alienation. Verso Books. 

Freud, S., 2012. The basic writings of Sigmund Freud. Modern library. 

Herhuth, E., 2019. Political Animation and Propaganda. The Animation Studies Reader, pp.169-179. 

Schmertz, J., 1993. On Reading the Politics of Total Recall. Post Script 12.3. pp. 36. 

Lieberfeld, D., 2007. Teaching about war through film and literature. PS: Political Science & Politics, 40(3), pp.571-574. 

Mollaghan, A., 2011. An Experiment in Pure Design. The Minimalist Aesthetic in the Line Films of Norman McLaren. Animation Studies. 

Nietzsche, F., 2008. Thus spoke Zarathustra: A book for everyone and nobody. Oxford University Press. 

Paakspuu, K., 2021. Off the Wall with Shchedryk. Interactive Film & Media Journal, 1(2), pp.52-65. 

Ryan, M. and Lenos, M., 2020. An introduction to film analysis: Technique and meaning in narrative film. Bloomsbury Publishing USA. 

Telotte, J.P., 1999. Verhoeven, Virilio, and "Cinematic Derealization". Film quarterly, 53(2), pp.30-38. 

Vogt, N., 2022. Editing chills: Arthur Jafa's video art. The New Left Review, 133, pp.161-177. 

Whittington, W., 2007. Sound design and science fiction. University of Texas Press. 

Filmography: 

Akira (dir. Katsuhiro Otomo, 1988) 

An Optical Poem (Dir. Oskar Fischinger, 1938) 

Dots (Dir. Norman McLaren, 1940) 

Lichtspiel Opus I-III (Dir. Walter Ruttmann, 1922) 

Lines Horizontal (Dir. Norman McLaren, 1962) 

Lines Vertical (Dir. Norman McLaren, 1962) 

Loops (Dir. Norman McLaren, 1940) 

Neighbours (Dir. Norman McLaren, 1952) 

Starship Troopers (Dir. Paul Verhoeven, 1997) 

Steamboat Willie (Dir. Walt Disney, Ub Iwerks, 1928) 

Total Recall (Dir. Paul Verhoeven, 1990)