Issue 39 Spring/Summer 2006
Transcription
Issue 39 Spring/Summer 2006
Issue 39 Spring/Summer 2006 ISSN 0268-1951 mej media education journal 2 contents editorial issue 39 Spring/Summer 2006 Media Studies: the Current SQA Arrangements 2 Editorial 4 Teachers’ TV 8 Bye-Child 11 Abertay Media Intro 12 Dead or Alive: CSI 15 Broadcasting ‘Body Language’ 18 “It noh funny” 21 The Jessica Lynch story 24 Mary Slessor in the media 27 Donnie Darko: SF/teen pic 30 Teaching Whale Rider 10-14 33 Reviews 43 Back issues Editor: Des Murphy Thanks to: Douglas Allen and Dini Power Typesetting and Design: Roy Stafford, itp Printed by: Thistle Reprographics, 55 Holburn Street, Aberdeen AB10 6BR Teachers may reproduce material from this journal for educational purposes only. Written permission is required for any other use. All text © AMES 2006 and individual contributors. Photos taken from Bye-Child courtesy of Flechette (cover, pp 8-10 and 34). CSI images (pp 12-13) © Jerry Bruckheimer/ CBS, Donnie Darko (pp 27-30) © Pandora/Metrodome, Whale Rider (pp 31-32) © South Pacific Pictures/ApolloMedia/Icon. Others as shown or unknown. The views expressed in the journal do not necessarily reflect the views of AMES as an organisation or of the institutions where contributors work. A t one time Scotland led the rest of Britain in its development of Media Education. The steady growth of the subject during the days of Scotvec and the ‘modules’ was, however, not sustained with the introduction of the Higher Still programme. Now Scotland lags behind the rest of Britain as far as the popularity of Media Studies is concerned. Undoubtedly the old Arrangements documents were partly to blame for this, so the situation should have improved when the subject was revised. However, the Arrangements have been in place for over a year now and it is probably a good time to review their effectiveness and to consider the changes they have brought to the subject. Superficially, at least, the situation would appear to have improved. The reduction in the crushing weight of assessment in the old Arrangements is to be welcomed. This was done by limiting the time needed for Unit Assessments to an hour per unit and the removal of the necessity for every pupil to keep a production logbook (and for the teacher to read them all). Also, with all levels being written to the same template, bi-level teaching becomes easier and, hence, the situation has become more manageable for many who have been tasked with delivering more than one level at the same time. However, this of itself is not necessarily a good thing, as it is virtually impossible to find a teacher of any subject who will defend the concept of bi-level teaching other than on the grounds of its being, at times, an undesirable necessity. Another more nebulous consequence of the rewriting of the units is the ideological shift in the subject’s base. In the current educational climate of league tables, accountability and the consequent need for successful certification, those delivering Media Studies have to devise the simplest courses which will deliver results and, to cover both analysis unit assessments and the analytical component in the exam, only four of the key aspects need be taught per text. Moreover, the fact that the focus is now on one medium at all levels means that there is no longer any need to explore the key aspects across a range of media. This means that the successful analysis of a text no longer requires the understanding of all the key aspects and their application to that text. Instead students will often concentrate on two texts in the same medium and for each of these they will learn how the four aspects inform one another with regard to that text. Indeed, for many centres Medium Studies is probably a more apposite title than Media Studies. Two other problems are beginning to emerge: the expectation that students at Intermediate Two level are capable of integrating key aspects in any fashion other than by rote learning; and the apparent lack of awareness of the poor literacy level of many students working at Intermediate One level. It is perhaps too soon to judge the impact of the changes on Media Studies but, in many ways, the revision seems like a lost opportunity. What became a race to meet deadlines and an attempt to change, but not by too much, meant that the opportunity to explore more radical alternatives, both for the units and for their assessment, was lost. Perhaps AMES was wrong to put all its energy into fighting the one-size-fitsall course structure of the three 40-hour units and should instead have thought more creatively about how this structure could be adapted to meet the objections to the old Arrangements while keeping the integrity of the subject. Perhaps we could have addressed the problem of the course being dominated by the idea of the single text, an awkward constraint in a subject such as Media Studies. But AMES, like everyone else involved in the revision process, had insufficient time for the kind of review that was required. We can but hope that the new Arrangements will be enough to revitalise the subject and increase its acceptance with students and centres. Unfortunately, a more likely outcome is that the subject will continue to lurch along on the back of genuine enthusiasts. Indeed, it could well be up to the Curriculum for Excellence to decide the fate of Media Studies. Perhaps it is enough if the New Arrangements keep it alive until then. media education journal 39 3 media education journal 39 4 Teachers’ TV – Are You Tuned In and Turned On? Sally Brady A s you are no doubt aware, Teachers’ TV, the new government-funded digital television channel and website dedicated to the teaching profession, launched in February last year. Nearly one year on, the channel’s consortium, comprised of Brook Lapping Productions, Carlton Television and the Institute of Education, is preparing the evidence for the DfES in order to secure funding for the continuation of the Channel. Andrew Bethell, the Channel’s Director of Programmes, will have commissioned some 400 hours of programming, principally focusing on the National Curriculum, but also covering general issues such as career development, interviews with key players within education, advice on classroom management and time-saving tips and ideas. The key objectives of the Channel, as indicated by the DfES, are as follows: 1. To deliver targeted training in management, leadership, personal and teaching skills 2. To share best practice, innovation and leading edge thinking from the English education system and beyond 3. To deliver practical ideas, suggestions, tips and resource reviews that are designed to save teachers’ time 4. To deliver TV-based classroom resources to teachers in a way that complements availability on other channels and on broadband 5. To deliver news and current affairs 6. To signpost other resources such as resources on the web, TV and support available over the phone or by post that allows teachers to follow up the ideas, training and advice given by the channel 7. Along with the website, to create and stimulate communities of interest around key issues The Channel is of particular interest, perhaps, to teachers keen to promote the use of moving image media in the classroom, but also in the staffroom. How many of us teaching English, Drama or Media, still encounter an element of scepticism from colleagues when we share ideas on how to utilise and build upon the expertise of our students in terms of their existing knowledge of film and television? The Channel is targeted at Primary and Secondary teachers (as well as subsidiary audiences such as governors and parents) and this move to highlight the learning potential of the medium of television can only serve to benefit, I think, the drive towards a more media-literate (however we choose to define it) society, or even, as Raymond Williams suggested in his cautiously celebratory account of ‘Television’ back in 1974, the: “ . . . long revolution towards an educated and participatory democracy . . . ” The ways in which teachers learn best, as well as our students, are addressed in this move to tap into the notion of teachers as television audiences per se, promoting and consolidating the sense of audiences as ‘active’ agencies, able to sift through the schedules in order to access information, as well as entertainment, from a wide variety of texts. Teachers’ TV can be seen to occupy a place within our television viewing routines, as well as within the context of ‘official’ government educational publications and the plethora of teaching ‘guidebooks’ available for teachers at every stage of their professional careers – providing an additional source of representations of the teaching profession and utilising (and perhaps challenging) the preferred discursive modes of our time. The ‘house style’ of the Channel seems to be a combination of television documentary formats and ‘observational’ Continuing Professional Development models, with the majority of subjectspecific programmes focusing on the methodologies of classroom practitioners. One of the potentially controversial aspects of the pre-production research conducted during the pilot of the Channel, was the recommendation by the Demos Report (2004), that Teachers’ TV adopt a ‘Professional Reality TV’ style: “Teachers’ TV needs to be: Educative: help teachers learn Aspirational: help change the culture of schools Realistic: engage with the realities and difficulties that schools face Entertaining: encourage the audience to tune in” The assumption is that teachers will not watch the Channel, therefore missing the opportunities it offers to be ‘educated’ and ‘inspired’, unless it is perceived to be ‘entertaining’. Leaving aside how we can define ‘entertainment’, this is arguably, an attempt by the DfES to locate members of the teaching profession as individuals within a wider culture of media consumption, perhaps a nod too, to the notion of television as a provider of a variety of audience needs at any given time. The tension arises, however, partly I think in the potential for conflict caused by the choice of a mainstream light entertainment style of television (‘Reality media education journal 39 5 The homepage of the Teachers’ TV website at www.teachers.tv TV’ or the revised version of it, suggested by the Demos report – ‘Professional Reality TV’) as the mode appropriate to address the needs of a professional audience. This point was highlighted too when I spoke to David Buckingham of the Institute of Education: media education journal 39 “You have a tension between what makes good television and what makes good CPD for teachers, so something that looks like good entertaining TV might entice teachers to watch once or even twice, but if it’s not really giving them anything then I don’t think they’ll stick with it . . . and what makes good CPD is probably actually desperately unsexy TV . . . it may be really boring bullet points on a screen . . .” (Buckingham 01/06/05). 6 In one critical respect, the choice of reality TV styles as modes of production for delivering CPD makes perfect sense – particularly if we consider the recent proliferation of the ‘makeover’ subgenre within current television scheduling and their explicit imperatives directed at the individual to reorganise their lives, in whichever ways deemed necessary by the ‘expert’ advice on offer, in order to achieve the perceived goal (to be more fulfilled in some way) of the particular narrative (or possibly, in a more critical reading, to become more conformist). Alex Moore, in his recent publication The Good Teacher Teacher, points to the ways in which current educational trends have tended to focus on “what teachers do”, rather than “what learners do”, suggesting that this emphasis can lead to a failure to recognise the real purpose of education as: “ . . . helping young people both to achieve academic and creative success and to develop as critical, confident, independent and socially responsible citizens.” (Moore, A: 2004, p. 170) In some respects, Teachers’ TV also focuses on ‘what the teacher does’ and, in doing so, this type of programming arguably reinforces a culture of ‘individual blame’, much as Alex Moore’s analysis of the ‘competencies’ discourse, points to its: “ . . . capacity to contribute to misdiagnoses of perceived educational failure, and to deflect solutions of educational difficulties away from analysis and reform of social conditions... towards the blame of individual students, teachers and schools.” (Moore: 2004, p. 84) The Guardian newspaper’s press coverage during the launch of the Channel highlights this conflict. Much was made of the reality TV impetus behind the programme styling: in terms of techniques, ‘fly-on-the-wall’ filming is highlighted by journalist Stephen Hoare, as the best approach to ‘capture what goes on in the classroom’; teacher participants are described as ‘stars’; John Bayley as ‘a John-Harvey-Jones style troubleshooter’; Ted Wragg’s slot as ‘like Jerry Springer without the trailer trash’ and the All Change series is described by Hoare as “a format that draws inspiration from the glorious tradition of Changing Rooms (see The Guardian Education Supplement, 08/ 02/05 pp. 4-5). Simultaneously however, there was an attempt to dissociate itself with mainstream television – “We are not trying to produce reality TV – we are trying to help teachers get a clearer insight”; “Changing Changing Schoolrooms it is not . . . the emphasis is not on entertainment per se, but on ‘factual entertainment’”, perhaps reflecting the public debate recently generated by these formats, particularly in the broadsheet press, amidst wider concerns of a perceived ‘dumbing down’ of British culture. Several of the responses to the initial survey conducted for my investigation of the Channel, indicated a reluctance to utilise television as a medium for teaching – arguably suggesting a compliancy in the historical view of television as necessarily ‘lacking’, located on the lower (popular entertainment) rungs of the hierarchical ladder of cultural forms. This is symptomatic perhaps of a broader scepticism concerning the value of moving image media within education – a battle still fought in staffrooms between more ‘traditional’ educationalists and those keen to enhance the capacity of our students to act as fully functioning, media literate, citizens. The potential for the Channel to “combine ‘workshop TV’ with ‘watercooler TV’ - programmes capable of sparking both institutional and social conversations” (Demos: 2004, p.19), and thereby seeking to initiate debate and generate communities of learners, creates an additional dimension in terms of the perceived limitations of television broadcasting as a two-way medium. In lamenting the loss of a genuine ‘public sphere’ and in a critique of radio, film and television, as opposed to the ‘printed letter’, Jurgen Habermas suggests that the ‘new media’: “curtail the reactions of their recipients in a peculiar way . . . they deprive it of the opportunity to say something and to disagree” (Habermas: 1989, p. 171). This view, I think, denies the agency of television audiences (and, in this case, teachers as television audiences), and reduces the notion of our capacity to engage in the discursive structures of television texts. Habermas’s lament includes what he perceives to be the ‘staging’ of discussion, suggesting that this can act as a substitute for (political) action. The conversations with respondents for my project negates this view, in the ways in which observed onscreen ‘discussions’ (but also, discussions interpreted as necessarily ‘staged’ for the purposes of textual construction) were deemed to be valuable in promoting debate subsequent to the viewing event – the experience becoming a social act of communication between the group concerned, regardless of whether the context of viewing had been individual or collaborative. In this instance, of course, the conversations were also ‘staged’ (for the project), but the potential for the Channel to engender these kinds of exchanges signifies, I think, a value more significant for a professional audience than that of ‘watercooler TV’ (see Demos Report: 2004, p. 19). The unique structure of the Channel’s scheduling, with programmes divided into the General, Primary and Secondary ‘Zones’, indicates further complications in the ways in which Teachers’ TV audiences will be shaped – reminiscent of an American model of ‘scheduling strips’, rather than a traditional British broadcasting approach to scheduling (see Bignell: 2004, p. 272). The Channel’s position within the wider digital broadcasting arena (as well as within the context of developing Internet technologies), should be acknowledged here as a crucial contribution in addressing the issue of Continuing Professional Development as an ongoing, dynamic process. The multiple uses to which programming can be lent, suggests a ‘plasticity’ of capacity in which texts can: “ . . . reproduce, disseminate, redesign, and transform in many different ways” (Burn and Parker: 2003, p.8), and this is certainly an area of interest for Andrew Bethell: “ . . . the extreme is that it’s just another channel like the History Channel for focused professional people . . . then we go through to people who are recording programmes onto DVD and then the website where people are downloading it and chopping it up and turning it into their own programmes . . . I’m much more intrigued by these multiple layers of use and that’s what makes Teachers’ TV really, really interesting . . .” (Bethell 03/06/05). The freely downloadable aspect of the Teachers’ TV website is potentially a real advantage for schools and individual media education journal 39 7 teachers, whereby clips of programmes can be re-edited in ways appropriate for local needs, the current problems around distribution of the Channel partly alleviated by this (approved) capacity to re-invent the material in focused ways. The transformation of the original texts also, I think, highlighting the way in which digital technologies can alter the earlier problematic of analogue television reception: “the deep contradiction, of centralised transmission and privatised viewing” (Williams, R: 1974, p. 24). The possibilities afforded by the streamed web content of programmes, create exciting potential in terms of collaborative CPD, suggestive of work that: “. . . allows school communities to decide for themselves what counts, to identify questions that are significant and pertinent to their needs” (see Leach, J in Banks et al: 2001, p. 392). The opportunities for individual teachers to become involved in wider learning communities, via the anticipated development of the Teachers’ TV website, will also be important in terms of enhancing a sense of professional identity, particularly perhaps for teachers who feel that they are operating in environments unresponsive to their needs. The potential for the Channel to be used ‘interactively’, suggests recognition of the multiple contexts of audience receptions of programming, with an empowering sense that viewers are enabled, in taking ownership of the Channel content, by becoming the schedulers for their specific, localised needs. The Channel must be seen, in my view (and as intended), as one of a number of ways through which school communities and individual teachers can access relevant and stimulating material for their professional development needs. As well as the conventions of documentary (in all its guises), it borrows too from a long established tradition of educational programming within British public broadcasting, placing itself in prime position to compete with the early examples of such programming, highlighted by Raymond Williams as follows: “These kinds of practice, which TV makes possible by its range and scope, are directly related to some of the most encouraging methods within formal education itself, media education journal 39 trying to experience a process rather than being taught about it. They do not replace other kinds of education, but they add to them, and in some cases change them qualitatively, in what is clearly an innovatory way.” (Williams, R: 1974, p. 73). New initiatives by the DfES to drive up standards in schools, such as the Teachers’ TV project, become easy prey to conspiracy-theories, or certainly a level of scepticism - it is easy to criticise, to negate, to suspect, far more challenging to negotiate, discuss, exchange. A more useful approach is, I think, one of cautious optimism, the ‘commodification of knowledge’ juxtaposed, as Webster suggests, with an acceptance of our contemporary paradox: “ . . . the sheer range and depth of information sources available today outshine that of previous epochs, and the ways in which people now can take part in public affairs should they so wish are made much easier today than yesterday.” (Webster: 2002, p.199). My conversations with colleagues suggested that it was Andrew Bethell’s definition of the Channel, which really held significance in relation to their professional needs: “ . . . Teachers’ TV is about the craft of teaching . . . the reason we’re putting it there is for you to think about what you’re doing. And you may decide that what you’re doing is fine, but just that process of selfreflection is itself a key part of CPD” (Bethell 03/06/05). The teachers I interviewed were not as interested in the programme makers’ abilities to mimic their favourite generic formats, nor did any perceived expounding of new DfES directives impress them – what they responded favourably to were representations of a range of teachers, providing contextual frameworks for specific practices. If the impression I got when I interviewed Andrew Bethell is the right one – that the ethos of the Channel is one of reflection and active engagement with the developing needs of its audiences, then I for one will keep watching the space on my screen. The challenge, I think, is for individuals working in institutions to interpret the Channel’s material, converting the general to a localised translation of teachers’ needs, in a mutually supportive and ongoing process of development. If this also creates a climate in which the moving image becomes a significant catalyst for learning, then, I’d suggest, we’ll all be that much better for it. References Bignell, J (2004) Television Studies, London: Routledge British Film Institute (2000) Moving Images in the Classroom: A Secondary Teachers’ Guide to Using Film & Television, London: bfi, English & Media Centre & Film Education Burn, A & Parker, D (2003) Analysing Media Texts, London: Continuum. Craft, A (2nd ed) (2000) Continuing Professional Development Development, London: Routledge Falmer Habermas, J (1989) The Cultural Transformation of the Public Sphere, London: Polity Press Hartley, J (2001) ‘The Infotainment Debate’ in Creeber, G (Ed) The Television Genre Book, London: bfi Book Hoare, S (2005) ‘Switched On and Full of Promise’, The Guardian Education Supplement 08/02/05 Hoare, S (2005) ‘Why Fun Makes Learning a Whole New Ball Game’, The Guardian Education Supplement 08/02/05 Horne, M et al (2004) ‘Switched On: How Television Could Turn Teachers on to Learning’. Available online at www.demos.co.uk Leach, J (2001) ‘Teaching’s Long Revolution: from Ivory Towers to Networked Communities of Practice’ in Banks, F et al Early Professional Development for Teachers, London: Fulton Moore, A (2004) The Good Teacher: Dominant Discourses in Teaching and Teacher Education. London: Routledge Falmer Webster, F (2002) 2nd Edition, Theories of the Information Society Society, London: Routledge Williams, R (1974) Television: Technology and Cultural Form, London: Routledge Sally Brady is Head of Media & Teacher of English at New Hall School, Chelmsford. She has recently completed the MA in Media, Culture & Communication, at the Institute of Education, London University. Her final dissertation was based upon a research project on how Teachers’ TV is meeting the needs of teachers, including semi-structured interviews of teaching staff, analysis of a sample of programmes and an investigation into the institutional background to the establishment of the Channel. 8 Bye-Child: A producer’s eye view Andrew Bonner T here was a time was when a short film of Bye-Child Bye-Child’s scale could not have been attempted by such a new director and producer team. So it is thanks to the work of all the investors, cast and crew that the film was produced at all. It is a hard task to collect the money, gather the talent, find the locations, book the gear, roll the cameras and deliver a film that still works in the edit suite. This article gives some of the story that took place behind the camera. Development You could say this film has been in development since Seamus Heaney made his first attempts at writing the poem of ‘Bye-Child’ and showed what he had achieved to Bernard [McLaverty, writer and director of the film], and other members of the Belfast writing group, way back in early 1970! However, for the purposes of our story, we begin when I Bye-Child spotted approached Seamus Heaney for the rights to adapt the poem to film. Rights and scripts and the search for cash I had been an admirer of Bernard MacLaverty’s writing for many years, so when Seamus Heaney gave me permission to adapt the poem into a short film, I knew who would be first choice to write the screenplay. It was only much later that Bernard revealed to me that the ByeChild poem had been an important source for his work on the novel and screenplay of Cal, one of his most acclaimed works. So Bernard was keen to make the short film come to life, as it had always been a story that fascinated and appealed to him. It took a couple of months for Bernard to think about how he would construct a story from the impressions and imagery of the poem. For example, the poem never attempts to explain how and why the Bye-Child is hidden in the outhouse. This has to be explained if a film version is to work. It was also necessary to explain how the child could have been hidden so well for so long, and why no one on the neighbourhood had come across him/her sooner. The screenplay’s answer was to create an isolated farmhouse, that would distance its owners from any nearby villages, and to have characters who themselves might be socially isolated, thus making it less likely that they would receive visitors. Visitors to the house could only be there through an unlikely invitation, or by mistake. This story element was settled in two ways: by bringing the grocer’s van to the house at the beginning of the film, and by bringing the boys to the house when they play hide-and-seek midway through the film. This becomes the catalyst moment that unearths the Bye-Child. With these and other script issues sorted, I set about looking for cash and talent. Though one problem, that of finding a director was very quickly solved: Bernard himself volunteered to do the job. It was something he always fancied doing, and I was delighted to accept his offer. It wasn’t until two years later, however, that enough money was found to pay for the production. Short films do not make much, if any money, and so it takes a long search to find people who will want to support them. Bye-Child Bye-Child’s money came in the form of grants from the Scottish Arts Council, Scottish Screen, Northern Ireland Film and TV Commission and private investors. Susan Lynch had agreed to play the lead role of the Mother, though most of the other roles weren’t settled until the final stages of pre-production. Pre-production Once all the money had been offered and guaranteed, the film moved very quickly from development into pre-production. One of short film’s other drawbacks is that crews and cast are often on other, bigger projects right up to the start date for shooting and so pre-production has to be very quick. We had little more than two weeks to finalise our plans. Prep is the most intense period of work for many members of the crew, particularly the art department and production team. The production design team had to build a shed, dress the exterior of our house, furnish and arrange media education journal 39 9 Bye-Child: the crew prepare to shoot the interior of the house, order chickens, source, buy and collect wheelchairs, stools, mirrors, and props of all kinds. The team to do this would be much bigger on a TV or feature film, and with only a few people working on our shoot, the production design team did a tremendous job. While the art department were busy getting the set designed and built, the production team were arranging for the rest of the cast and crew to get involved. The learning curve for me as a new producer was steep and difficult to climb, but with the help of a great production manager, Lisa Woods, many of the difficulties were fixed. Pre-production is the time when all the plans for the actual shoot are agreed and finalised, so the director of photography, First Assistant Director, Production Designer, Make-up and costume supervisors and a host of other people have to be part of the plans: all will have to share their thoughts on how the plans affect their jobs. Bye-Child was a tough prep because there were so many issues to be solved in a media education journal 39 very short amount of time. But the team made it, helped in no small part by their enthusiasm to be working with Bernard. His ability to explain very clearly what he wanted, and to quickly adapt when he couldn’t get it, helped everyone. By Sunday 8th June 2003, everything was in place for six days of shooting in the beautiful countryside of Northern Ireland. Production Making a film is often described as ‘doing the high-wire sprint’. Once prep has finished, there is no turning back without a lot of expense and possibly a lost film. Production is when the film rolls through the camera, actors come into their own and the producer hopes and prays that all the prep has been sufficient for everyone to do their job. It is also the time when problems have to be dealt with very quickly or else there will be huge ramifications for the film. Day 1 Shooting on Bye-Child took six days in June 2003. Day 1 started at the chapel inside the grounds of the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum near Holywood, Co. Down. There were 30-40 extras, almost full cast, and a crew of 35-40 and therefore would be the most difficult day of all. Amazingly, the crew got through most of the shots required, even with a few problems along the way, and moved from Holywood to the location for the house in time for a few shots in the evening. The rest of the film was shot here, near Templepatrick, Co. Antrim, and this made the next few days easier to handle. Day 2 A long day, dominated by the need to get night shots and dark exteriors. Some interiors were shot in the early part of the day, but the cast and crew were in for a long night as sufficient darkness could not be achieved in the night sky until VERY late. A difficult task, but good to have it out of the way relatively early in the week. Day 3 Lots of interiors: of the woman trying to get to sleep, and then some moves to get the exteriors of the priest approaching the house. This is also the day that the rescue 10 Susan Lynch as the mother in Bye-Child of the child is filmed. Originally written to take place at night, it was decided that, with such bright skies well past midnight, there wouldn’t be enough dark hours to accomplish this. Instead, it was shot in the afternoon, and many say how much better it worked than the original idea. Genna MacCormick, playing the ByeChild, is trained to perfection by drama coach, Julie Austin, and the scenes have tremendous impact with all the crew. Day 4 Many of the night interiors of the shed are filmed. A black drape is erected over the shed in the garden, and daylight is banished. The rat is one of the stars today, and performs brilliantly. The one-take wonder-rodent is wrapped by teatime. This is also the day when Susan Lynch and Dick Holland perform their difficult fight scene. It’s tricky to choreograph and shoot, but is done with amazing skill and rare power. Everyone knows this will be a great scene in the final cut. Day 5 Just when we needed it, this was a beautiful summer day. Scheduled for Day 5 was the hide-and-seek game with the boys. It’s complicated by the fact that many angles and points of view have to be covered. For example, when Susan Lynch goes to her window to check on the disturbance she hears, she must see the feet of Danny McGrady making his getaway. Lots of time spent setting up, but all the shots are in by wrap. Day 6 The last great day! All the scenes dropped from earlier in the week have to be picked up. The priest is yet to confront the father, and so Brian Devlin is recalled for another day’s work. Another glorious day of sunshine lifts spirits, and the film is completed on time and with all the footage required, in the can. Post-production Post-production is when the camera has stopped rolling, the cast and crew go home and the director waits to see if he really has a film. The first assembly edit takes place, and Bye-Child seems a bit long. There is a discussion about how the flashback should work, because as it is scripted it doesn’t seem to have as much power as was hoped. These issues are solved and then the special visual effects, like placing the moon in the night sky are added. The edited film goes to a digital negative processor in Switzerland, and a new negative comes back to Technicolor in London. Bye-Child Bye-Child’s post-production is delayed at various points by personnel being on summer holidays, babies’ births and other commitments. Sound has to be re-recorded, and dubbed. Music has to be written and recorded, and then dubbed into the sound mix that has already been taking place. Credits have to be agreed, and then filmed, printed and attached to the main film: it can seem like the film will never get made. But the print is ready in time for its première at the London Film Festival in October. Finally, the film makes it to a big screen, and receives a tremendous reception. Andrew Bonner Resources The film’s website is at: www.byechildfilm.com Ordering Information for DVD of film plus education resources Poetry in Motion Ltd 3/2 191 Hyndland Road Glasgow G12 9HT, UK tel and fax: (+44) 0141 587 6279 email <[email protected]> media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 11 Media Studies at Abertay Hazel Work T his is the second edition of the Journal to contain articles from the Media and Culture research group in the Division of Sociology at the University of Abertay. The previous Abertay issue of the MEJ (2002, No. 32) addressed a range of themes from: Scottish nationhood as expressed through the tabloid tales of the Daily Record, the power of myth and identity Record in the film The Outlaw Josey Wales and motifs of carnival and the grotesque in the television series The Sopranos. These themes and issues are reworked and reshaped in the present edition where debates about identity, myth and the body re-emerge in articles about internet sites, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, body language and the stories told about Jessica Lynch in the American media. becomes part of a long tradition of victimising and stigmatising social groups finding themselves badly affected by changing socio-economic structures. Alex Law in ‘‘It Noh Funny’: Ned Humour on the Web’ focuses on the way in which urban, working class youth in Dundee are portrayed on the Internet site ‘Dumpdee’. Law argues that while this site justifies its content through an appeal to humour, the wider issue is who is meant to get the joke? He argues that these sites express wider representations of urban youth and housing schemes as standing beyond the pale of civilization. In such ways, the Internet Andy Panay draws on the American frontier myth in ‘Spinning into SemiReality – the Captivating Tale of Jessica Lynch’ to discuss the way in which the capture and captivity of the American soldier Jessica Lynch by Iraqis in 2003 was represented in the American media. Panay argues that the stories surrounding her captivity and rescue were not simply an exercise in media manipulation and propaganda but demonstrated how collective media education journal 39 In contrast to Alex Law’s discussion of the ‘Dumpdee’ site, Cathy Di Domenico’s article focuses on the ways in which the Internet and other media have contributed to a reworking of the ways in which ‘Mary Slessor of Calabar’ (1848-1915) the famous Scottish Missionary’s life story has been told in both Nigeria and Scotland. Domenico argues that although different emphases have been brought to her biography, the Internet has played an important part in creating links between her life and legacy in Nigeria and in Scotland. myths surrounding American history and identity are re-enacted in times of national emergency. James Moir revisits his interest in discourse, communication and visual rhetoric in his article on ‘Broadcasting Body Language: Studying Popular Television in the Classroom’. Moir considers the way in which the study of, or comment upon people’s ‘body language’ has become a popular form of television entertainment. He discusses how media students can be encouraged to consider and reflect upon the popularity of expert commentary on ‘body language’ within reality television programmes such as Big Brother Brother. Hazel Work’s paper ‘Dead or Alive: Bodies of Evidence in CSI’ addresses the way in which new developments in forensic and media technology are used to take the ‘voyeurism of witnessing’ associated with crime drama to a new level. The paper suggests that this voyeurism is accompanied by a discourse about the infallibility of the forensic method that ensures that any social understandings of crime and criminality are pushed to the margins of the narrative within the series. ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 12 Dead or Alive: Bodies of Evidence in CSI Hazel Work I n October 2000 CBS aired a new show on their network, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (CSI). CSI). The immense popularity CSI of this show led the network to create a series franchise with CSI: Miami which aired in 2002 and CSI: NY which debuted in 2004. This article will focus on the original series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and will discuss the ways in which the forensic procedures utilised within the series help frame the types of stories we are told about crime, criminality and the bodies of both the living and the dead. The Science of Deduction In many respects the series builds on the positivist tradition and the ‘science of deduction’ that blossomed in the popular crime fiction of the nineteenth century. Thomas (2003) points to the close link between the ‘science of deduction’ found in the popular fiction of writers such as Edgar Allan Poe and Arthur Conan Doyle and the emergence of a new body of ‘scientific’ knowledge in this era. He suggests that the development of forensic criminology was popularised and in part legitimised through its presence in such fictional tales. The emergence of a new heroic figure for the modern age, the detective, provided the cipher for this approach to the study of crime. In CSI we have a contemporary example of this process with Grissom and his team providing the viewers with a showcase for fictional narratives which privilege and help legitimise a science of crime and criminality more suited to the twenty first century. The series places the Crime Scene Investigators at the centre of the detection process and while this format departs from aspects of the traditional detective drama, the series conforms to one of the dominant motifs of the detective narrative whereby “the hidden identity of the criminal is the structuring motif of the text” (Young 1996:83). In CSI this motif is overlain with the demands of the forensic method and this method helps structure the narrative and provides the means and procedures for catching the criminal. The forensic method is predicated on the belief that the deployment of scientific rationalism is the most efficient way to catch criminals and ultimately understand crime. This method is based on the idea of the ‘detective as positivist’ (Young: 1996) where the problem and mystery of crime is solved through the analysis and interpretation of observable phenomena; in CSI the observable phenomena include the bodies of the victims and the crime scene under investigation. In CSI the individual, perhaps more precisely, the individual body, lies at the centre of the mystery of crime. The emphasis placed on the individual body, be it the victim’s or the criminal’s, ensures that the stories we are told about crime in CSI play out at one step removed from the social world. In fact the forensic methods used to secure the ‘scene of the crime’ and subsequently catch the criminals’ helps to push any wider social understanding of crime to the margins of the narrative. In CSI the debris of the social world is a possible contaminating factor at a crime scene and the CSI teams work to preserve the site from the threat of contamination. Through this process the area is transformed from a social space in which people may have lived and worked and almost certainly died into an arena for objective, scientific study in which the evidence, the facts are said to speak for themselves. CSI staff invariably search rooms using torches and other technologies to reveal evidence. Gil Grissom the lead CSI in the series never tires of reminding the viewers and his team to “Concentrate on what cannot lie . . . the evidence”. This approach is reinforced by the fact that the dead body, the corpse in each story is treated as an object, becomes a thing through which evidence can be extracted and used to media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 13 help catch the criminal. In this sense the “body becomes the haven of truth” (Peters: 2001). This truth is not only found on the body of the victim but also often in or on the perpetrator of the crime; blood, skin, semen and hair, the biology of the offender leads the team and the viewer to the solution to the crime. Here we have a more sophisticated version of the ‘criminal type’ made popular in the nineteenth century by Lombroso, Bertillon and others. We still have crime written on the individual body but instead of a crude physiognomy wherein criminality is detected in the shape of ear lobes, eye-squints, close-knitted brows and low foreheads, we have bodily betrayal often at a deep genetic level. In CSI the implication is that no-one can hide, neither the criminal nor the audience and this message resonates with a wider culture of surveillance and control found in modern societies. The Technology of Crime In CSI technology plays a large part in the capture of criminals. It is technology that allows the investigators to see the DNA string or the chromosomal abnormalities that lead the viewer to the perpetrator of the crime and there is a sense in which both the scientific and media technologies used in the series take us into another realm of the observable, a realm hinted at in Walter Benjamin’s essay on ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’. Benjamin (1992) drew attention to the ways in which photography and the camera could open up a field of vision not observable to the naked eye. In CSI the use of microscopes, advanced computerised imaging techniques, infrared and other light based technologies allow the investigators and the audience ways of seeing which take us beyond the limits of plain sight. The camera techniques used throughout the series reinforce this expansion in the field of vision. The camera takes the viewer inside the victim’s body thereby providing a close-up of the damage inflicted by bullets, poison, knives, hands, or the other contributors to the more natural processes of decay displayed on the corpse. Both the scientific and media based technologies used in the series provide us with a “superabundance of details with evidentiary value” (Peters 2001: 708) details a CSI and the viewer require to ensure the apprehension of the criminal by the end of the episode. The manner in which this technology is used to gradually reveal the identity of the criminal is also an important component of the methodology of the CSI team. As media education journal 39 “. . . a significant portion of each episode is taken up with examining the corpse of the victim” – in this case a man with excessive body hair. Peters (2001) suggests, both scientific instruments and media technologies such as the camera and the microphone “were thought thing-like, and hence credible, in their indifference to human interests”. In CSI the forensic method is rarely seriously challenged and the fact that images, recordings and evidence can be tampered with or inaccurately processed, or open to a range of alternative interpretations is an issue that rarely arises. In one episode ‘Mea Culpa’ (2005) Grissom’s processing skills are brought in to question on an old case but it transpires that the technique used to finger print a matchbook resulted in the emergence of a ‘slow motion’ print, a print which would not have been visible during the original processing. This episode does raise questions about aspects of the forensic process but ultimately Grissom’s integrity and methods are proved to be sound and the audience is reassured by the suggestion that in the intervening period the techniques for processing prints have become more advanced and therefore even more reliable. In many respects the appeal of CSI rests on the reassurance offered to the viewers. There may be a few twists and turns in the narrative to keep the audience interested but the stories are at one with the dominant tropes of detective fiction, literary or otherwise. The viewer is “comforted by the sense that, whatever happens, the excursion into the fearful world of criminality will be followed by a return from fear, as the detective solves the crime and reveals the identity of the criminal” (Young 1996:79). In CSI this return to safety is perhaps more apparent than in some other crime dramas aired on our screens. This is largely due to the fact that the forensic method and its associated processes of detection are often constructed as infallible – the evidence does not lie: any glitches in what the evidence may mean is often due to minor lapses in the procedural process. The solution is usually linked to a more stringent use of the forensic detection techniques available to the team, leading to a more in-depth knowledge of the perpetrator of the crime. This gradual unmasking and capture of the criminal ensures that the series fulfils two of the pleasures associated with detective dramas, censure and the ‘voyeurism of witnessing’ (Young: 1996). The Voyeurism of Witnessing In CSI one may suggest that this ‘voyeurism of witnessing’ goes beyond the pleasures involved in seeing into the private spaces of the victims’ lives. In CSI death opens the narrative and a significant portion of each episode is taken up with examining the corpse of the victim. Modes of death are on display for those who wish to look; we see bodies that are so putrefied that they have melted into carpets or become the black sludge in a bath, we see bodies that are so desiccated they crumble to dust at the merest touch or we are reminded of our own fate as partially decayed insectridden corpses are shown on the screen. In CSI the voyeurism associated with looking closely at the corpse of the victims serves a singular purpose, to illuminate the scientific method as a mode of detection. As viewers and persons we cannot actually see death, the moment between “bodily being and non-being” is a mystery (Sobchak:1984) and as such “the moment of death can only be represented in a visible and vigorous contrast between two 14 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES states of the physical body: the body as lived body, intentional and animated, and the body as corpse, as flesh unintended, inanimate, static” (Sobchak,1984:287). Through this display of the body as an inert object, a resource for the expert knowledge of the forensic scientist, science is retrieved from its redundancy in the face of death. Science is the lens through which we see and read the signs written on the corpse thereby challenging Sobchak’s (1984:286) suggestion that death “is a sign that ends all signs.” In CSI the corpse is made to ‘speak’ before and often beyond the grave. This validation of science and the forensic method as the ultimate interpreter of both the living and the dead body is reinforced by the manner in which the crime scene investigators and ultimately the audience are able to view the corpse, at a distance. For the Crime Scene Investigators this distance is ensured by their objectivity as investigators, for the viewer this distance is achieved by adopting the point of view of the lead characters and the mediated means by which the corpse is presented to us on screen. In the autopsy scenes the viewer is shown images in a range of time frames from slow motion, speeding up or reversing time to the repetition and replaying of particular images. Such scenes are often accompanied by rock music giving the viewer a macabre popvideo moment; this pop-video sensibility is reinforced by the multiple views of the dead body available to the viewer through the video screens that populate the autopsy lab. Such mediated techniques reinforce the distance between the viewer and the corpse and as such the artifice of the process encourages the audience to view the corpse as an object thereby reinforcing the dominant socio-ideological framework of the series as a whole. Reason and Emotion There is another sense in which the narratives within CSI may be viewed as an exemplar of the ‘science of deduction’ and that is in the way in which the series pushes the personal and the emotive to the outer-reaches of the narrative even though Sparks (1992) Young (1996) and Garland (1993) have argued that we would gain a fuller understanding of crime and criminality if more attention was paid to the emotions involved in criminal acts and the responses to them. There are a range of episodes where the audience do get a glimpse of the personal lives of the characters: Catherine Willows’ relationship with her husband, father and tellingly to a lesser extent her daughter; Grissom’s deafness in Seasons Three and Four; Warwick’s gambling problem or Sara Sidel’s childhood experiences. By and large the personal lives of the CSI’s are subordinated to the demands of the ‘technical procedural’ (Young: 1996) of the narrative. In the episodes where the personal does intrude it often acts to the detriment of a CSI’s required objectivity on a case. In ‘Random Acts of Violence’ (2003) Warwick’s emotional involvement leads him to assume a suspect is guilty. We get an indication that a lack of emotional distance from the crime is a problem in the 2003 episode ‘Lady Heather’s Box’. Again, in ‘Weeping Willows’ (2005) Grissom is unimpressed that Catherine’s need for “human contact” situates her in an anomalous position as both a Crime Scene Investigator and involved subject in terms of the case they are working on. She asks Grissom if it is a crime to need such ‘human contact’; his response is to intimate that it is problematic, reinforcing the viewers’ perception of him as an emotionally detached but gifted CSI. His superior abilities are linked to this detachment and in this respect he fits in to the mould of the detective archetype developed in early detective fiction. Edgar Allan Poe’s Dupin, argued to be the precursor of the modern detective, is characterised as an ‘emotionless reasoning machine’. Sherlock Holmes eschews the company of women fearing that their emotionality will interfere with his rationalism and there are many instances within the series where Grissom suggests that one’s objectivity and reasoning skills are tainted by emotional attachments. The difference here would be that this taint may affect both the male and female members of the team; emotion is no longer the preserve of the female but objectivity and rationalism continue to be the most prized qualities and in CSI, Grissom is the exemplar of this mode of being in the world. Grissom is an enigmatic figure yet as a character he fits Young’s (1996:86) description of the detective as a “dividedunity-both rational and imaginative.” In the series we are regularly shown scenes where Grissom imagines himself at the scene as the crime occurs and he often makes intuitive leaps with regard to the cases he is working on. However it is clear that this empathy and intuition come from knowledge of the world that is observed and processed rather than fully experienced. This knowledge borne of his experience as a CSI has led him to develop his own taxonomy of criminal behaviour but it is a schema in which the ‘nuts, sluts and perverts’ of the social world are categorised and contained from a distance. In many senses Grissom’s knowledge of ‘man’s’ folly is often detailed through the philosophical and literary references he makes within episodes and it is telling that his status as an expert in entomology suggests he has a greater affinity with insects than human beings. His character, as a result, seems to stand at one step removed from the pettiness of everyday existence and in this respect he mirrors the qualities of the classic detective who moves through society but is not entirely of that society. This is reinforced by William Petersen’s portrayal of the character as an intelligent and quirky loner. CSI provides the viewers with a highly polished account of the forensic method as a mode of crime detection, so polished that the series glosses over the difficulties in retrieving viable forensic evidence (The Scotsman, 16.1.2006). Furthermore, the emphasis placed upon a positivistic approach to crime and criminality ensures that viewers’ attention is directed away from more complex discourses about society, social conditions and the nature and causes of crime. References Benjamin, W (1992) Illuminations, London: Fontana Press. Deutsch, L (2006) TV Crime Dramas ‘distort view of US justice for jurors’, The Scotsman, 16 January. Garland, D (1993) Punishment and Modern Society: A Study in Social Theory Theory, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Peters, J.D. (2001) ‘Witnessing’, Media, Culture and Society Society, Vol.23 (6) 707-723. Sobchak, V (1984) ‘Inscribing Ethical Space: Ten Propositions on Death, Representation and Documentary’, Quarterly Review of Film and Video, Vol. 9 (4) 283-300. Sparks, R (1992) Television and the Drama of Crime: Moral Tales and the Place of Crime in Public Life, Buckingham: Open University Press. Thomas, R.R (2003) Detective Fiction and the Rise of Forensic Science, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Young, Alison (1996) Imagining Crime: Textual Outlaws and Criminal Conversations, London, Sage. Hazel Work teaches in the Division of Sociology at the University of Abertay Dundee. Her main research interests include media constructions of crime and criminality, Bakhtin and dialogism, the body and carnivalesque in contemporary culture. media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 15 Broadcasting ‘Body Language’: Studying Popular Television in the Classroom Dr James Moir T he study of non-verbal communication or body language as it is commonly known, is very popular amongst students studying the behavioural sciences as well as being a topic with huge populist appeal in the media. For example, in the United Kingdom television programmes such as Body Talk presented by the psychologist Peter Collett (Channel 4, UK, May 2004) have captured the public imagination and there is also a thriving populist and academic literature in the field (e.g. Hinde, 2005; Collett, 2003; Beattie, 2003; Fast, 2002; Richmond & McCroskey, 2003). There is also a vast applied side to this work in terms of coaching programmes associated with interaction in the world of business and personal relationships. The study of body language is big business. Much of the appeal of this area rests upon the idea that body language involves people communicating their ‘true’ thoughts and feelings. Indeed the media has played a part in popularising Birdwhistle’s (1970) work which found that around 7% of communication is the result of words, the rest of our messages being conveyed through our body language, tone of voice, and facial expressions. It is for this reason that there is an obvious appeal in reading the body and de-coding what these various signals mean. It is no accident that much of this work is devoted to the study of power in politics and business as well as the nature of sexual signals. These are areas where the revelatory power of being able to de-code these media education journal 39 signals provides much of the appeal and rhetorical power of this kind of study. However, it is also an area of study where this populist appeal itself is of interest, especially for students studying television and how media intersects with culture and society. For the most part this area has been the subject of academic psychology but other disciplinary contributions are also evident. For example, anthropologists have approached the topic in terms of the way in which these processes help to integrate societies, whilst ethologists have extrapolated findings from animal studies to humans in terms of different sorts of displays (see Hinde, 2005). What is perhaps lacking is a more sociological analysis of what makes this area so popular within the media. This paper therefore seeks to explore why ‘body language’ is such an appealing area and how asking this question can be utilised in turn to encourage students to understand its ideological power in terms of populist appeal. In particular, it is useful to encourage students to understand the way in which the study of non-verbal communication trades upon an inner/outer cultural dualism in which the animated body is treated as a window onto the mind. Moreover, bodies are taken as communicating socially shared ‘meanings’ such as joy, interest, boredom, status etc. some of which are unconscious whilst others are taken as being controllable. This idea of the body as the site of a struggle for communicative intent has a resonance with Goffman’s (1959) work on self- presentation but less attention has been paid to the underlying populist appeal of this area in terms of seeing what people think and feel, in reading the body language of others. There is little doubt that this in itself is a powerful rhetoric in sustaining a major part of the appeal of this area and particularly when wedded to the recent upsurge in commenting upon people’s body language in reality television programmes. These kinds of “reality” television programmes have become very popular viewing in recent years. It is therefore relatively easy to make reference to such programmes in teaching about the relationship between media, culture and society. It is also the case that this kind of approach can help students engage in a more reflective learning about the extent to which they themselves are drawn towards populist television and how this appeal works. In the case of commentaries upon body language in television programmes one avenue is to help students to consider how the body is positioned as a communicative device in which movement is taken as displaying some meaning or insight into what someone is saying or doing. This issue is discussed further below and illustrated with examples used in class and drawn from the popular media. Movements and Minds In the study of non-verbal communication there is one major underlying assumption: communication. The basis of this is a conceptualisation 16 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES of the interaction as being about the communication of some thoughts or feelings ‘inside’ people. What is said, in what way and with what accompanying body movements are taken as requiring interpretation in order to assess the degree of congruence between them and what they reveal about the person during the interaction. There is an intrapsychic world that is mediated through the outer world of the body which is in turn is relayed to other minds. The nuances of body movements in terms of facial expressions and bodily positions and gestures are taken as being the focus of investigation. Therefore, the body in this view is treated as a window onto something else; an inner world that requires to be exposed. It is this revelatory discourse that gives the study of body language so much of its rhetorical power. To be able to read the mind of another by analysing the micro-movements of their body is an area that has captured the public imagination and shows no sign of abating. It is perhaps no accident that this should be the case given that the mass appeal of this area of study has been applied to topics such as sex, politics and business. The ability to communicate effectively in terms of persuasion and influence, and to be able to ‘read’ others is often crucial in these aspects of people’s lives. It is also the case that these are just the areas where success in doing so carries much in terms of individual ‘rewards’ and therefore is a major element in the popularity of the field and its appeal to students. To be able to read other people’s minds has always been a claim that has populist appeal. The emotional aspect of such communication is taken as being spontaneous and representing ‘feelings’ and it is this that is often presented as being a major part of what the study of body language can reveal. The emotional state of a person as displayed through non-verbal cues is often taken as a reliable indicator of a person’s ‘true’ feelings. The physiology of these bodily movements and facial expressions is regarded as virtually beyond the total control of the individual. It is also interesting to note that much of the discourse of the study of body language revolves around the detection of deception by reading non-verbal leakage, or in Goffman’s (1959) terms, the signals that are given off. The visibility of ‘emotions’ as indexed to the body is therefore a major cultural resource in taking ‘outward’ non-verbal signals and considering these as representations of what people are like ‘inside’ as thinking and feeling agents. It is this communication model therefore that drives the ‘expertise’ of those in the study of non-verbal behaviour. The stories of emotional and other states laid upon the body through notions of revealing the signals that is given off leads to a discourse of functionality as related to particular bodily ‘channels’: vocal quality, facial movements, eye movements; posture, orientation, distance and touch, gestures, appearance, and even chemical. These channels are then related to functions such as marking identity and status; the display of emotional states; role relationships; joint focus of attention; rituals, and illustrators. This association between the labelling of ‘perceptual moments’ in the understanding of body language and the mental operations that have been applied to them provides for a means of establishing a rationalist account of non-verbal communication in terms of functionality. The body must be attended to in terms of discrete signals requiring ‘interpretation’ or ‘understanding’ these expressive functions. The popularisation of body language in the media This notion of body language has extended into popular media in terms of what the body ‘reveals’ about people. Much of this has been associated with the world of ‘reality television’ and the use of body language experts to dissect the expressions and movements of participants for the benefit of the viewer. In dissecting interactions between the contestants on Big Brother Brother, for example, each conversation is treated as if it were treading a delicate balance of selfexpression, impressing housemates and currying favour with millions of sofabound viewers. These interpretations from experts in the field also lend a legitimacy to this way of reading the body in terms of looking for the truth behind the signals and that the body does not lie (see promotional extract below). Big Brother’s Little Brother As one of the official BBLB’s experts, Robert Phipps has taken a keen interest in this year’s Big Brother Brother. He says: “It’s great to be involved this time round, as someone with more than a personal interest in body language the programme’s been a must for me ever since the very first show aired back in 2000”. His role in the show is to shed light on some of the gestures, signals and movements the housemates exhibit throughout the series, as sometimes their body gestures do not match the words coming from their mouths. “This is known as incongruence” says Phipps “and when this happens it is always the body that tells the truth, as the body doesn’t know how to lie it gives off the wrong signals.” (from www.robertphipps.com/ BigBro.html) One of the psychologists associated with the show, Peter Collett, has also presented a two-part television programme screened on Channel 4 in May 2004. The programme looked at body language as applied to the world of power, politics and sex and seen in offices, a party conference, the armed services and celebrity culture (see www.thebookoftells.com/BodyTalk_ Main.htm). Those in the media spotlight have remained the subject of this kind of analysis through a weekly feature in the Scotland on Sunday newspaper. Images from Body Talk: The TV Series media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 17 Body Talk – The TV Series Programme 1: Power People who hold positions of power are rather like poker players – they’re engaged in a subtle game of bluff, trying to persuade everyone that they have the necessary qualities to lead, and doing everything they can to ensure that their intentions remain hidden. This programme examines powerful people by looking at their “tells” – those unintentional signs that give them away and reveal their true feelings. Programme 2: Sex face. Psychologists have consistently shown that men smile much less than women. That’s partly because smiling serves as an appeasement display – a means of showing that one isn’t a threat. It’s also because women have a more pressing desire to be liked, whereas men are more concerned with gaining respect. This probably has something to do with the fact that our society still regards women as subordinate. But there may also be a genetic component, since gender differences in smiling have been observed in babies as young as two months. The fact that baby girls smile more than baby boys is difficult to explain in terms of socialisation or social expectations. By analysing celebrity couples like Kate Winslet and Sam Mendes, Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley, and Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta Jones, we can see who’s in control, what’s happening in their relationship and where it’s heading. The tells that were in evidence when Prince Charles and Diana announced their engagement are compared with those on display when Prince Edward and Sophie announced theirs. Sun 11 Dec 2005, Scotland on Sunday Body language Dr Peter Collett The actress Helena Bonham Carter and her director husband Tim Burton are arriving at Sadler’s Wells Theatre in London for the world première of the theatrical production of Edward Scissorhands, based on Burton’s film of the same name. Bonham Carter, we see, is standing slightly behind her husband. That’s because they’re holding hands and his is in front of hers. The taller person usually adopts the ‘front-hold’, but if the shorter person is more dominant they’re just as likely to assume this position. Another expression of dominance is the absence of a smile on Burton’s media education journal 39 Finally, we see that Bonham Carter is tilting her head to one side. This may be an unconscious attempt to declare her devotion to her husband, but it could also be a ‘head-cant’; something that women typically do to reduce their apparent height and to make themselves look less threatening. In fact, it’s not unusual to see a woman wearing high heels to make herself look taller, while canting her head to one side to make herself look shorter. No wonder men are confused. • Peter Collett is the author of The Book of Tells and was a resident psychologist on Big Brother Conclusion These examples can be discussed in class with students in terms of how a focus on body language in the media has gained popularity. In particular, students can be encouraged to reflect upon the revelatory power claimed for this kind of analysis and how this constitutes a major aspect of its appeal. However, there are also ideological issues that can be teased out in class; for example, the focus on interpersonal interaction and underlying psychological states as being key to understanding social relations and interactions; the focus upon personal influence through body language as a means of ‘success’; the focus upon celebrity body language as an ever closer means of inspecting their lives; or the ways in which ‘expertise’ is warranted via interpretations of slow-motion shots and still pictures. Students following media-related programmes of study can therefore begin to connect the nature of popular television programming with an understanding of the derivation of popularity and how this relates to wider sociological and ideological issues. References Beattie, G. (2003) Visible Thought: The new psychology of body language, Taylor & Francis. Birdwhistle, R. (1970) Kinesics and Context, Philadelphia: University of Context Pennsylvania Collett, P. (2003) The Book of Tells, Doubleday Edwards, D. (1997) Discourse and Cognition, London: Sage Fast, J. (2002) Body Language, M Evans & Co. Goffman E, (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, reprint Penguin Books, 1990. Richmond, V. & McCroskey, J. (2003) Nonverbal Behaviour in interpersonal Relations, Allyn & Bacon Dr Jim Moir is a senior lecturer in sociology with research and teaching interests in discourse analysis, communication theory and visual rhetoric in mass media. He is particularly interested in studying ‘seeing’ as a social accomplishment across a range of social practices. 18 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES “It noh funny”: ‘Ned’ Humour on the Web Dr Alex Law A ccording to the people licensed to talk on behalf of the rest of Scotland, the nation suffers from a love of ‘failure’ and positively celebrates the culture of urban poverty. For instance, Stuart Cosgrove, Channel 4’s Director of Nations and Regions and the presenter of football-related banter on BBC Scotland’s Off the Ball, recently claimed that Scots love ‘failure’ and that writers like James Kelman and filmmakers like Peter Mullan are obsessed by the ‘selfloathing’ represented by depressing urban realism. For Cosgrove, such wallowing in urban squalor supposedly explains the peculiar attraction of leftwing politics in Scotland: “They also love the culture of poverty. The rise of the Scottish Socialist Party is a case in point. They don’t seem to be able to imagine themselves out of this culture” (cited by Law, 2005). Similarly, Christopher Harvie, the esteemed Scottish historian, has attacked Irvine Welsh’s fiction as ‘debased’. Harvie is very specific about the class-basis of this: “Welsh’s market remains captive: the inarticulate twenty-somethings, call- centre folk, cyberserfs, unsmug unmarrieds who infest [city centre] fun palaces. Welsh is to this lot what, in his happier days, Jeffrey Archer was to Mondeo Man: the jammy bastard who did well” (cited by Law, 2005). Such claims have been accompanied by demands that Scots need to become more psychologically confident as a nation and embrace entrepreneurial success in market competition. In policy terms this chimes nicely with New Labour discourses of social inclusion through paid employment rather than more equal wealth re-distribution (Mooney and Scott, 2005). Yet another way to exorcise the cultural demon of the urban poor has been to humorously send it up. Humouring the poor was evident in the 1990s with the popular situation comedy Rab C. Nesbitt and, in the 2000s, with the sketch show, Chewin’ the Fat Fat. In both cases the urban poor were sympathetically drawn, living by their own codes, speaking in their own voices, and outwitting and defying characters representing social and cultural authority. If these portrayals could sometimes be a bit too laudatory they nevertheless had an insider’s feel for the game that the Scottish urban poor inhabit. But by the mid-2000s these soft insider representations of urban subcultures have hardened into hateful representations of the poor and the areas where they live. I want to look at one version of this – the website ‘Dumpdee’ – to argue that this is a discourse of class-based derision, where cultural representations allow the urban poor, especially the youth, to be transformed into an object of class hatred. They become stereotyped as an undifferentiated social group – ‘Neds’ - upon whom middle class fears of social disintegration and poverty can be projected. Humour and bigotry While the new ideology of class-based hate continues an older tradition, most obviously the underclass discourse of the Conservatives in the 1990s, it is now leavened by humour. This helps to protect hateful talk about the poor from counter-attack since it is, after all, ‘only a joke’. But this represents more than ‘merely’ humour. This appeal to the conventions of humour is an insidious method of licensing hateful discourses against the poor and other oppressed groups. The social psychologist Michael Billig (2001) examined the way that appeals to humour is used to justify extreme racist bigotry on Ku Klux Klan-related websites. Predictably these sites display violently racist humour. But by deploying website disclaimers that it’s all ‘just a joke’ anti-racist objections are somehow thought to be cancelled out. Billig argues that there is a certain pleasure to be had in humorous displays of hatred, what Sartre called the ‘joy of hating’, whenever it transgresses what is deemed acceptable by social codes. Humour allows the bigot the opportunity to displace the symbolic violence of hate discourses by denying that social groups are really the object of hateful laughter at all. Instead, it is the shared recognition of the ‘cleverness’ of the joke format that supposedly generates the opportunity for hilarity. Thus, when challenged, the bigot can readily shift their justificatory ground from the hateful content of the joke to the intrinsic social acceptability of humour in the manner of “I was only joking”, “its just a joke”, or “take a joke”. Here small, unnoticed words – ‘only’ and ‘just’ – diminish the right to challenge and critique hateful patter. media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 19 In other words, it is less how the joke works through its ‘clever’ inner structure than how it is socially and politically situated. By disguising its symbolic violence against the real object of its attack the bigoted joke dissembles and misleads. Class-based bigotry gets coded cover in a way that would be disallowed by other types of social communication. Jokes acquire a transcendent quality that puts this special kind of social communication, when it is appropriately signalled to its audience as ‘funny’, as somehow standing outside the bounds of moral or political judgement. In this way the social damage of bigoted joking is both excused and permitted. Bigotry in ‘Dumpdee’ A ‘Ned’ discourse of class derision is mainly targeted at working class male youth in the greater Glasgow region. But the hateful discourse planners have been actively trying to discourage negative images of the city and to boost its regeneration through education, science and culture. While this provides jobs and consumer distractions for the middle class professionals who commute into the city to work and populate its galleries, theatres and wine bars, the local working class, who have suffered from decades of industrial restructuring and factory closures, are visible only as an army of labourers to service the affluent before trailing back to the hidden housing schemes dotted around the city’s periphery. However, the young urban poor make their unwanted presence felt in Dundee city centre, hanging around the public and commercial spaces of the city centre, congregating in the shopping centres, the bars and clubs, on the street, at bus stops, and in car parks. that comfee?’ The earthquake decimated the area causing approximately £30.00 worth of damage. Three areas of historic burnt cars were disturbed and many locals were woken before their Giros arrived. One resident Tracy Sharon Smith a 15yr old mother of five fae Ormiston Crescent said “It was such a shock, my little Chardonnay Levi-Mercedes came running into the bedroom crying. My youngest two, Tyler Morgan and Megan Chantelle slept through it all, as well as my great granny Lorraine. I was still shaking while I was watching Tricia the next morning”. Apparently though, looting, mugging and car crime did carry on as normal. . . . they carry the marks of past periods of anti-Highlander and anti-gypsy racism into present day discourses of bigotry. of class derision is not confined to Glasgow or young men. Elsewhere in Scotland, other derogatory terms are used to name the same phenomena. ‘Schemie’, ‘Tinkie’ or ‘Gadgie’ are east coast terms; the first refers to living on a housing scheme while the latter two are derived from terms for impoverished itinerant travellers, typically dispossessed Highlanders or Romanies, peddling cheap goods door to door. ‘Tink’ is defined by the Scots Dictionary as a ‘contemptuous term for a person, specifically a foulmouthed, vituperative, quarrelsome, vulgar person’, though even the Scots Dictionary fails to mention poverty as a defining characteristic of the ‘Tinkie’. That such terms continue to resonate in Scottish society means that they carry the marks of past periods of antiHighlander and anti-gypsy racism into present day discourses of bigotry. ‘Tinkie’ is the term commonly used in Dundee and the surrounding area. Dundee as a city has struggled against a poor reputation: for the couthiness of the Sunday Post on the one hand, and for being the poorest, most concentrated working class city within Scotland, on the other. City media education journal 39 They may have little purchasing power but they have unwanted visibility. Elsewhere in Scotland such fears are typically reserved for young males. But here the most venom is reserved for young mothers in Dundee, a city with a reputation for the highest level of teenage pregnancies in Scotland. Just as women formed the combative backbone of the Dundee working class, first in the jute mills and later in the manufacturing factories like Levis and Timex, so young women today are the object of middle class fears in Dundee. And so it goes on in this vein. This has striking parallels with how the black urban poor in New Orleans were callously represented this year in the aftermath of the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina and the indifference of a state that openly despises the black urban poor. A page on the site called ‘Cheryl’s Gadgie Gallery’ purports to show photographs of the poor fashion sense of Burberry and tracksuit-clad locals but includes spoof adverts for a toy, a check-clad Furby doll, bearing the legend: Websites like ‘Dumpdee’ produce just such a discursive invective of class, gender and place under the ideological alibi that it’s all ‘just a laugh’. One page contains a spoof news report of an earthquake in Dundee that is able to simultaneously mock the poverty of its ‘epicentre’ in the housing scheme of Whitfield, promiscuous teenage mothers, endemic criminality, dissolute lifestyles, welfare dependency, squalid environment, and a general lack of cultural taste among the poor: Unlike any Furby seen before, the more you play with it the less it learns! In fact . . . it learns nothing. Victims were seen wandering around aimlessly muttering ‘whit the fuck’ and ‘Whaurd All thanks to the new ‘SCUM’ (Socially Crippled Underage Mother-board) Another ‘advert’ for ‘Weegie Airlines’ is replete with clichés about Irn Bru and Buckfast. Its outsider status is further established by the fact that Glaswegians do not call themselves ‘weegies’ and the use of the word ‘braw’ in the advert rings hollow. Still another is of a ‘birthday card’ of check-clad teenage male surrounded 20 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES by the claim – ‘Congratulations. Your Grandmother is Thirty’. While these do not have any specific relationship to Dundee, they make the connection that there is a wider fear of young working class mothers circulating in society. Other pages follow up the ethnic roots of the terms ‘gadgie’ in a sectarian anti-Catholic page, ‘The Sisters of Tayside’. Here nuns are depicted Fagin-like as producing fake Burberry accessories and providing ‘self-contained units for young pregnant mothers (under the age of 11) in Dumpdee’. A fear of racial miscegenation among the poor is also present. In a page of ‘minutes’ from the ‘Dumpdee Gadgie Society’ an item on ‘Dress codes’ is reported from the ‘meeting’: How to dress correctly at all times with the latest from the Burbery [sic] collection was given by Chantell Khan-Cohen. (The meeting was then temporarily suspended due to Tayside Police raiding the premises and removing Ms KhanCohen and her goods and the 3 models). The name ‘Chantell Khan-Cohen’ manages to simultaneously draw upon a fear of Muslims, Jews, and the criminality of the poor. Formal and informal disclaimers Some attempt is given by the website to respond to criticisms of material that is seen as offensive. Its Home page has the formal disclaimer of a Legal Notice that allows the site owners to ‘disclaim all liability for such content to the fullest extent permitted by the law’. On the final page there is an informal disclaimer, ‘It’s just a joke’. the joker from the social or political consequences of the hateful content under the appeal that humour is a special sort of social communication (Billig, 2001). Yet much of the discursive effort involves attempts to definitively identify and stipulate the characteristic features of the object of attack in terms of promiscuous sexuality, multi-partner teenage mothers, violent criminality, dissolute lifestyles, idleness, squalid environment, and a general lack of cultural taste among the poor, represented, for now, by the ubiquitous Burberry check. As a further measure of distancing the website from any responsibilities or consequences, it invites ‘Fan Mail’ supporting the site and ‘Hate Mail’ criticising it. Peculiarly then the page of ‘Hate Mail’ is actually from contributors objecting to hate discourse! Much of the Fan Mail is from people who do not live in Dundee but who maybe have studied at one of the Universities. All agree that its all just a laugh. However, a few fans are open about deriving vicarious pleasure from hate: This website is fucking magic. It just says what the rest of Scotland thinks about Scumdee. You missed out the most important thing to: the Kingsway that gets u pass scumdee without seeing proper gadgies as fast as you can. Ripping the piss out of the neds/ gadgies is in no way glorifying them. The great tragedy is that natural selection should wipe all the gadgie fuckers out soon enough, but it won’t work – cos they breed as soon as they can walk. ‘It noh funny’ Such spurious reasoning puts into relief the more general apologetics for hateful humour – that at some point it refers, if only implicitly, to its social and political context. Discourses of class derision have real effects. They do feed into political, policy and media definitions of social problems and their remedies. The more explicitly hateful the discourse is against the stereotyped Other the more it sanctions the use of draconian powers against the most dominated groups in society, including curfews, exclusions, postcode discrimination, arbitrary policing, punitive laws and blanket ASBOs. It is always more than ‘just’ a joke. This makes it essential to recall the militant refusal of racist stereotypes in the 1970s for challenging anti-working class bigotry today. As the black militant poet Linton Kwesi-Johnson (1979) put it back then: People sayina’ dis People sayina’ dat ‘bout di youta’ af today How dem causina’ affray Ana’ it noh funny It noh funny References Billig, M. (2001) ‘Humour and hatred: the racist jokes of the Ku Klux Klan’, Discourse and Society Society, 12, pp. 291-313. Kwesi-Johnson, L. (1979) ‘It noh funny’, Forces of Victory Victory, Island Records, ILPS9566. Law, A. (2005) ‘The conformist imagination: think-tankery versus utopian Scotland’, Variant Variant, 23, pp. 3437. Mooney, G. and Scott, G. (eds.) (2005) Exploring Social Policy in the ‘New’ Scotland, Bristol: Policy Press. Scotland www.dumpdee.co.uk We set up this website in our spare time just for a joke – we had no idea it would become so popular. It’s not meant to poke fun at anyone – it’s just for amusement and to give everyone a wee laugh – we all need that sometimes. Is it really the case that ‘It’s not meant to poke fun at anyone’? This attempt to forestall critique by disclaimers is a typical device used in hate humour. Its function is to publicly dissociate This last contributor returns to the genocidal discourse against the poor, only to complain that this solution would also fail, and continues: “It’s funny, it’s tragic, it’s all true”. This appeal to ‘it’s funny’ is not here qualified by ‘only’ but leads on to the claim that this is all somehow ‘true’, dropping for the moment the usual contrast between ‘just a joke’ and the more serious business of ‘reality’. Alex Law teaches in the Division of Sociology at the University of Abertay Dundee. He has researched and published widely, including in the areas of film realism, national identity and the press in Scotland, and critical theory. Alex is Programme Tutor for Abertay’s BA(Hons) Media Culture and Society degree. media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 21 ‘Spinning into Semi-Reality’: The Captivating Tale of Jessica Lynch Andy Panay O n the 2nd of April 2003 the Washington Post announced to an anxious American public that the prisoner of war Private Jessica Lynch had been rescued from Saddam Hussein hospital in Nasiriya by a combined military force of 1,000 Navy Seals, Army Rangers, Marines and Air Force Pilots (‘Missing Soldier Rescued’, WashingtonPost.Com). Described as a ‘classic’ special operations raid to rescue her, the story of Jessica Lynch’s captivity resulting from an ambush upon her military convoy, her ordeal as a wounded POW, and her subsequent deliverance from captivity, enthralled the imagination of the American public and would subsequently catapult the twenty-year old army Private to the status of war hero. By late June of 2003 however, the Wall Street Journal in a piece titled ‘Jessica Lynch is Spinning into Semi Reality’, stated that the Washington Post’s article of April 2nd “raises serious Post questions about whether the U.S military manipulated the episode for propaganda purposes and about whether U.S news organisations were seduced into a gripping, patriotic tale.” This was indeed the conclusion drawn by a BBC television documentary War Spin, which was shown first in Britain on May 17th 2003 (The Truth About Jessica). Describing the programme in the Guardian newspaper three days prior to screening presenter John Kampfner states, “Her rescue will go down as one of the most stunning pieces of news management yet conceived. It provides a remarkable insight into the real influence of Hollywood producers on the Pentagon media managers, and has produced a template from which America hopes to present its future wars.” media education journal 39 The experience in captivity of Jessica Lynch, including the wild fictionalisation of her story, is also a remarkable example of the endurance of the captivity narrative tradition in American popular culture. As captivity narrative Jessica Lynch’s story may be understood not simply as an isolated or singular account of personal trial and eventual deliverance during a time of war, but as the latest narrative account of captivity by an enemy that was first popularised in the seventeenth century amongst the Puritan settler communities of the Eastern seaboard. Subsequently the captivity narrative entered American popular consciousness through its wide circulation via ‘dime store novels’, ‘penny dreadfuls’ and novels of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and has continued to provide the central drama of numerous celebrated modern films including The Searchers, The Deer Hunter and even Taxi Driver Driver. The American captivity story in contemporary popular culture, of which Jessica Lynch’s biography I am a Soldier Too, written by Rick Bragg (2003) is the most recent contemporary example, is a powerful cultural trope of historical complexity. Generically captivity narratives are organised through an apparently simple tri-partite separation of the following central actions: (1) a perilous conflict situation leading to subjugation and capture and the removal of the captive to a realm that is unknown to them and one which they perceive as hostile and threatening; (2) the endurance in a perilous space of personal depredations and sufferings variously including physical torment and injury; (3) the subsequent rescue of the captive from captivity and their return to their community of primary identification. The captivity narrative then is structured through these three distinct phases, which are established as the generic plot markers of the form, called here Capture, Trial and Return. Capture Jessica Lynch was a Private of the U.S Army’s 507th Ordnance Maintenance Company, a grade not expected to be involved in frontline military action, but rather one intended to provide logistical support for frontline troops. Advancing north to Baghdad on March 23rd 2003 Lynch’s company is officially said to have taken a fatal ‘wrong turn’, and become uncoupled from the main column. Instead of following frontline battlefield troops as intended, the 507th instead found itself in the city of Nasiriyah where they were quickly ambushed. A fierce gun battle ensued and Jessica Lynch was subsequently captured as a Prisoner of War. The senior soldier present at the ambush described the situation to the Washington Post in historical terms immediately evocative to American audiences, saying, “We were like Custer. We were surrounded” (‘Days of Darkness, with Death Outside the Door’, April 14, 2003, WashingtonPost.com). The power of the Custer myth and the scenario of his “Last Stand”, derives its tragic power from the twin associations of an encounter by American troops in hostile territory beyond the secure space of civilised American life, and the massacre of these forces by overwhelming enemy numbers constituted as a savage Other. In Rick Bragg’s biography of Lynch’s ordeal the ambush is similarly described with Iraqi fighters standing in for the ‘savage’ Sioux. Writing from interviews with Lynch, Bragg describes the Iraqis as variously, “scuttling everywhere; swarming along the rooftops; shooting 22 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES and screaming”: and, just like the Indian enemy when their moment finally arrived, ultimately “the Iraqis closed in, in triumph.” Lynch recalls the “dark bearded faces” of her attackers (p71); and fellow soldiers, who, whilst trying to escape from burning vehicles “were shot down, shot to death in the road” (p75). An isolated soldier described as being “left behind” in the confusion was similarly “surrounded and shot down”. In Nasiriyah the overwhelming enemy force “sprayed bullets . . . and their AK 47’s bucked in their hands as they fired on full automatic” (2003, p70). At this point, defeated through overwhelming numbers but not through lack of resistance according to the Washington Post on April 3rd, Jessica Lynch was taken captive by Iraqi forces. Newsweek cover 14 April 2003 Indeed, in the Post Post’s piece, titled ‘She Was Fighting to the Death’, Lynch is described as “firing her weapon until she ran out of ammunition” and sustaining “multiple gunshot wounds.” “She did not want to be taken alive,” it added (WashingtonPost.com), thus confirming a culturally significant myth of American heroism. This piece has since become infamous however for being entirely at odds with what Lynch says subsequently in her biography. “I didn’t kill nobody,” Lynch states, confirming that she hid in her truck as her gun jammed praying for her life (Bragg, 2003, p71). Trial For many scholars the literal figure of the captive stands in for the whole community as symbolically representing the situation of precarious (American) existence in hostile frontier spaces. Catherine Scott (2000) argues that this is applicable to the modern captivity of the Iranian hostage crisis of 1979. Here she argues, “media coverage of the 444 days of captivity echoed puritan captivity stories of confrontation with the Other, fears of innocents being violated, and the call upon heroic leadership to rescue both the hostages and the nation from threats to American identity” (2000, p178). In Lynch’s narrative too, both in the biography of events, and the press coverage surrounding her captivity, her trials whilst a Prisoner of War may be said to provide for what Scott describes in the in the context of the Iranian hostage crisis as “rallying around the flag”. This she argues in the context of the meaning of the updated captivity narrative, “means resisting the ‘devilish savages’ of Islam” (2000, p178). Book, 2003 The enemy Other, in their assaults upon their respective victims, reveal themselves in what Scott describes is “a familiar story of contestation between civilisation and savagery” (2000, p179). Bodily suffering (of the captive) is emphasised to illustrate the trials of the captive figure, whilst emphasising the brutality and violence of the captors. Gary Ebersole argues that historically, by repeatedly stressing physical bodily suffering, “such tales sought to exercise and cultivate the reader’s moral imagination” (p165). Lynch’s narrative during the trial phase of her captivity repeatedly emphasises the brutality of her physical condition and the perilous consequences in this respect of her continued captive state. Such is the importance of physical suffering as a motif of the captivity genre, and so fundamental is it to the success of the narrative formula, that the captive undergoes trial and hardship before eventual deliverance from suffering; indeed the meaning of the captivity tale itself may be said to stem from this, that the precise details of Lynch’s physical treatment by her captors, and of how her physical injuries were inflicted, have become a central site of struggle over the truth or otherwise of her account ever since. Newsweek on the 14 April 2003, Newsweek, repeating the as yet not discredited Washington Post account of Lynch’s rescue that it ran on April 2nd, states that “unsettling questions” exist amidst the “joy” of her safe return regarding the origins of her injuries which included fractures to both her legs, a fracture of the spine and right arm, and a high fever (keepmedia.com/pubs/Newsweek, Time cover, 17 November 2003 14/4/03). Newsweek also introduces speculation not listed in the medically verified account of injuries, that Lynch had received stab and gunshot wounds. It then goes on to say that officials confirmed at the hospital where she was flown immediately after her release that she was not stabbed or shot, before going on to reverse this and state a few lines later that unspecified surgeons confirmed that her wounds provided evidence that she had in fact been shot! This entirely baffling and unverified state of affairs, despite its evident contradictions and inconsistencies, nevertheless leads the writer of the piece to conclude that “she might have been shot after she’d been captured rather than wounded in combat.” In Bragg’s subsequent biography of Lynch’s captivity, published long media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 23 after both the Washington Post Post’s and Newsweek’s versions of her rescue from Newsweek Saddam Hussein General Hospital had been discredited, the question of the extent of Lynch’s actual physical injuries were further complicated and obscured. Bragg describes how the Humvee in which Lynch was travelling trying to escape the scene crashed, and it appears here that Lynch was rendered unconscious since she claims that between the impact of the crash and waking up in a nearby Iraqi military hospital she had experienced a loss of conscious time of three hours. Bragg describes (2003, p96) that when Lynch finally woke up she was receiving treatment by Iraqi medical staff for her injuries. At this juncture Bragg details a list of physical injuries consistent with those detailed above by Newsweek (April 14), and confirmed by doctors in Germany. Bragg goes on to claim (p96) “the records do not tell whether her captors assaulted her almost lifeless, broken body after she was lifted from the wreckage (of the Humvee), or if they assaulted her and then broke her bones into splinters until she was almost dead.” Amidst the confusion of the nature and extent of her injuries, or crucially how these were obtained, he does not suggest the entirely plausible alternative that Lynch was in fact injured as a result of the Humvee crash. Instead, and entirely consistent with the captivity narrative tradition, her injuries remain open to the cultural expectation that they were inflicted by the enemy. The captivity narrative demands that the captive undergo a trial of bodily suffering in captivity the successful outcome of which, eventual return to the community, provides for what Slotkin describes as “a parable of . . . collective salvation through affliction” (1973, p95). And since this cultural trope is so well known in American culture, the captive’s ‘broken body’ is an expected narrative motif, without which the captivity narrative has an entirely changed meaning. This is perhaps why the American press and media in general were so quick to speculate on supposed ‘unsettling questions’ regarding the physical condition of Lynch, before she had even been returned to them. Indeed, Newsweek (April 14) stated that “the possibility of mistreatment had been very much on the mind of President Bush who . . . had frequently raised concerns about American women falling into Iraqi hands.” media education journal 39 Return The precise circumstances of Lynch’s release from captivity remain similarly confused and obscured, though it is clear that immediately upon Jessica’s release from hospital the American media presented the story of her rescue in glowing patriotic terms, in which crack American troops fought heroically to secure her rescue. Subsequently, through her biographer, Lynch would refute the excesses of these claims and he states instead that her own account of the events of her survival provided “the whole story, a much better one actually . . . of the doctors who treated her . . . and a slow realisation that the doctors and nurses were doing their best to keep her alive”. (p155) code of honour and rescued Lynch in a daring raid, leaving it says, “a whole lot of dead Iraqis.” At the time of Lynch’s captivity American forces were invading Iraq and pushing north to Baghdad where it was widely expected they would decisively secure their occupation and bring to a swift conclusion a brief conflict using Donald Rumsfeld’s loudly trumpeted strategy of ‘shock and awe’. Lynch’s captivity was depicted using the full cultural weight of the historically significant captivity narrative and Americans waited in anxious but faithful expectation for a successful conclusion, meaning decisive military action to secure her release and return her to American soil. Scott argues in respect of the Carter administration during the Iran hostage crisis of 1978, that it was the failure to enact the narrative principle of community action in the form of some decisive and successful intervention which finally destroyed the credibility of its handling of the crisis. References Bragg, R (2003) I am a Soldier Too: The Jessica Lynch Story Story, New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Ebersole, G (1995) Captured by Texts: Puritan to Post Modern Images of Captivity, Charlottseville: University Press Captivity of Viginia. Scott, Cv (2000) ‘‘Bound for Glory’: The Hostage Crisis as Captivity Narrative in Iran’, International Studies Quarterly Quarterly, 44: 1, pp 178-88. Slotkin, R (1973) Regeneration Through Violence: The Mythology of the American Frontier; 1600-1860, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press. The captivity narrative in popular culture suggests what Roberts (cited in Scott, 2000, p185) argues is powerfully entrenched in the American character, ‘the belief that good will triumph in the end, that the cavalry will ride over the hill at the last minute and save the day.’ A failure to act therefore undermines the successful fulfilment of cultural expectation. Therefore, and according to this logic, Newsweek on April 2nd (keepmedia.com) announcing Lynch’s rescue, quoted a US Brigadier General as stating “some brave souls put their lives on the line, loyal to a creed that they know. They will never leave a fallen comrade behind.” Accordingly the article then goes on to claim that the American military fulfilled the expectations of this It is in this context of cultural expectations that the American military response to Lynch’s captivity was surely planned and carried out, as serving the strategic needs of the American war effort by satisfying the historically determined cultural expectations of the captivity story for public consumption. After all, and as Newsweek stated in the first line of its April 14th article that then went on to triumph the bogus version of events surrounding Lynch’s rescue, and without a trace of irony, “It sounded”, the article says almost breathlessly, “like one of those fanciful Hollywood scripts.” Press Articles Cited Missing Soldier Rescued, April 2nd 2003, (WashingtonPost.Com). ‘She Was Fighting to the Death’ April 3rd 2003, (WashingtonPost.Com). ‘Days of Darkness, with Death Outside the Door’, April 14, 2003, (WashingtonPost.com). Newsweek Article, April 14th 2003, (www.keepmedia.com/pubs/Newsweek). ‘War Spin; The Truth About Jessica’, The Guardian, April 14th 2003. (BBC 1 Documentary tx 17th May 2003). ‘Jessica Lynch is Spinning into Semi-reality’ June 20th 2003, (www.keepmedia.com/pubs/Opinion Journal) Andy Panay is a Teaching Fellow in the division of Sociology at the University of Abertay Dundee. He has research interests in American popular culture and is currently working towards his PhD examining the cultural history of the North American captivity narrative. 24 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES Representations of Mary Slessor in the Media: Connecting Dundee to Calabar Catherine Di Domenico T his article is based on original research conducted over the past decade both in Dundee, Scotland and Calabar, Nigeria. It addresses changing media images of ‘Mary Slessor of Calabar’ (1848-1915), the famous Scottish missionary and first female magistrate of the British Empire, who has been represented in a variety of ways over the years in the media. Her image has become quite familiar recently to most Scots, when in 1998 she became the first woman to be commemorated on a Scottish banknote, the Clydesdale Bank’s £10 note, displacing her predecessor, David Livingstone, from this position. Curiosity about her life and work has also been further encouraged through the present availability of information about her on the Internet that, together with various recent press reports, appears to have stimulated an increased interest in her both at home and abroad. Mary Slessor’s Life, Work and Fame Mary Slessor was born in 1848 in Aberdeen, as the second of seven children, of whom only four survived beyond childhood. Her father’s unemployment resulted in the family moving in 1859 to Dundee where there was a greater availability of work in the expanding textile industry. The Slessor women obtained jobs in the booming Baxter Brothers’ linen mill and, at the age of eleven, Mary began work as a ‘half-timer’, with the other half of her day being spent attending a school provided by the mill owners. At the age of fourteen, she became a full-time skilled weaver at a power loom, continuing this work for fifteen years. The linen weavers were regarded as an elite among mill workers compared to the spinners and also, later on, to the jute mill workers who came to dominate the city. She soon developed an intense interest in religion and volunteered to become a Sunday school teacher in the Queen Street Mission where she undertook home missionary work among the poor. She was inspired by David Livingstone’s work, and soon developed the ambition to become a missionary herself (Robertson, 2001), and not merely an obedient, devoted wife and generally unrecognised co-worker of a male missionary, like Livingstone’s own wife Mary. Indeed, the lack of women’s accounts in colonial societies such as Nigeria show how their experiences were generally neglected by the mainstream. This is particularly true of women missionaries who, despite their important roles, have tended to be ignored in historical, popular and academic accounts (Tucker 1988). Mary Slessor is a notable exception. In 1875 she volunteered to join the Scottish Presbyterian Mission in Old Calabar, and did so a year later when she presented herself at Duke Town, the headquarters of the Calabar Mission. British colonial officials, missionaries and traders in the nineteenth century knew Nigeria both through their first-hand experiences and by secondary reports as a dangerous place, the ‘White Man’s Grave’, because of diseases such as malaria to which they were extremely susceptible. Many expatriate missionaries only lived for a short time after they arrived in Nigeria (Tucker, 1988). This became evident when the missionary gravestones in the cemetery at Creek Town near Calabar, where Mary Slessor worked for some time, were scrutinised. The tombstones show how quickly many of the recent arrivals fatally succumbed to illnesses that regularly also decimated the indigenous population. However, Mary was said to be fearless in the face of such threats, as was a mutual admirer, the famous Victorian travel writer and atheist, Mary Kingsley, who came to visit her at Ekenge near Calabar in 1893. She describes Mary Slessor not only as an expert on local beliefs, practices and customs but also, despite clear differences in their own beliefs, as a kindred spirit (Kingsley, 1897). Mary Slessor remained in Nigeria for almost forty years. Among the missionaries and British administrators, she stood out as different, being both criticised and admired for her comparatively unconventional lifestyle, when compared to other expatriates. For instance, she became friendly with local chiefs, a fluent speaker of Efik, and lived like a native Nigerian, adapting to local customs and lifestyles. She travelled ever further inland, opening churches, hospitals and schools wherever she went. Becoming famous for rescuing the destitute, orphans and especially twins, who were seen in Calabar as an abomination, she established the Missionary Women Settlement at Use for resettling displaced women and twin mothers who had become outcasts. She established the mission hospital at Itu that was later named after her as the Mary Slessor Hospital. Her work became focused in an extremely practical way with advice and help being given freely to the people who sought her out. This led in 1899 to her appointment as Vice-consul and in 1905 as President of the Native Court at Okoyong. The National Commission Guide to the museum in Calabar states, ‘the Okoyong people called her the White Queen. She had her own methods of finding the truth and of delivering justice’ (1986: p.185). After her death in 1915 her fame spread even farther as she became known as a heroic figure who, like her early inspiration David Livingstone, was also a pioneer and explorer to regions unknown to the colonialists. Her fame spread and, although sometimes eclipsed by male media education journal 39 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES 25 missionaries, it stands in contrast to the anonymity of many contemporary sister missionaries (Tucker, 1988). Mary Slessor Accounts and Connections At the mid-point of the twentieth century, Mary Slessor is described in the West African Review as a most remarkable woman (Jeffreys, 1950). Indeed, her narrative has been recounted in the print media from the late nineteenth century, when she was made famous in Britain through contemporary newspaper and travel accounts (e.g. Kingsley, 1897). The classic volume of tales about her work and adventures in Africa, published just after her death by Livingstone (1916), did most to establish her reputation as a heroic figure. Many other accounts followed, which elaborated on her life and exciting exploits. These included many other biographies, with the most recent being Robertson’s National Museum of Scotland (2001) publication in the ‘biographies of famous Scots’ series. The shorter more child-oriented version of Livingstone’s book (1931) also became extremely popular, and was followed by a variety of illustrated storybooks and other heroic accounts for children. These still remain popular today along with the more upto-date twenty-first century versions that have been produced for younger readers (e.g. Meloche, 2002). Articles about Mary Slessor have continued to appear in recent years in the press in both Nigeria and Scotland and, although well remembered in each place, different interpretations have been brought to her biography. There is a broad collective narrative describing first of all her life of poverty, hard work and courage in Scotland, followed by her pioneering life dedicated to the people of southeast Nigeria, and particularly to the women and children. Thereafter, various aspects of Mary Slessor’s redoubtable life are highlighted in the different accounts. These emphases reflect the histories and social, political and economic contexts of the two places, as well as the festivals, events, representations and accounts of her life and legacy that are held in each. These have all combined to affect the way in which stories about her are interpreted and used in the media of the two countries. Articles and features portraying her life and image represent not only her narrative but also those of the peoples of the geographic areas with which she was most connected. media education journal 39 ‘Good enough for bank notes but not for charity’? The importance of her life to the people of Calabar is reflected in newspaper articles, such as the feature in the Nigerian Guardian by Anietie Ben Akpan (1996) under the headline, ‘Mary Slessor lives on’. Here she describes her as ‘the Scottish sister remembered for stopping the killing of twin babies in Calabar’. She tells her readership how the ‘Slessor clan’ also still ‘lives on’ in Calabar. These people are the now quite numerous descendants of the children whom she saved and subsequently adopted. For these descendants of her ‘adopted’ family who kept the surname ‘Slessor’, she is celebrated within their families as a respected ancestress. The Calabar community as a whole also holds regularly widely reported events in her honour. These include the celebrations which took place in central Calabar city in 1987, when an imposing statue of Mary Slessor holding a pair of twins, with the inscription in Efik naming her as ‘the mother of all peoples’, was erected in her memory. Again in 1998, in the towns, villages, schools and hospitals with which her name is associated, various events and festivities were reported which marked the 150th anniversary of her birth. Stories about her exciting adventures also feature frequently in the Nigerian national press. For example, Okoroafor (1995) gives an account of ‘Mary Slessor’s mission: Conquest of Okoyong’ for the Headlines readership. In such ways her stories have become well known in Nigeria, with these along with the events and festivals celebrating her life being particularly important for the women and children because of the efforts that she made on their behalf. Her reputation is particularly safeguarded by the ‘Mary Slessor Society’, a women’s organisation, which has members throughout the country. In Scotland, her connection with Dundee and Aberdeen have led both cities to claim Mary Slessor as a key figure in their histories. In Dundee, she is portrayed in a permanent exhibition beside the stained glass window, put up in her honour just after her death, in the McManus Galleries museum. The Mary Slessor Centre is also a community meeting place in the city centre. Feature stories on her life have recently appeared more frequently in the local and national press in Scotland, apparently stimulated by her portrayal on the Clydesdale Bank £10 note. For example, Paul Drury’s story in The Sunday Herald (2000) features pictures of the banknote which link up to a detailed description of the ‘Legacy of the Scots missionary who is a saint to the people of Nigeria’. Such features have raised the general awareness of her narrative among the Scottish public at large. However, a later feature by Marcus Dailly in Scotland on Sunday (2002) criticises the Clydesdale Bank for not giving a donation to the Mary Slessor Foundation in his article entitled ‘Good enough for bank notes but not for charity’. Indeed, the establishment of a Mary Slessor Foundation in Dundee in aid of charities in Calabar by a Dundee doctor, Dr Lawrie Mitchell, and his Efik wife, has also helped to feature Mary Slessor more frequently in the Scottish press both nationally in The Scotsman (e.g. Johnston, 2004) and locally in Dundee in The Courier (e.g. Anon, 2005). There has also been much publicity given to her through press notices about the recent musical play ‘Mother of all the Peoples’ by Mike Gibb. Following a sell-out event in Aberdeen, the Hame Productions play was shown in Dundee in March 2004. It was supported not only by the Dundee City Council but also by the Scottish Arts Council, and was widely reported on in both the local and national press. In 2005, for example, the play was praised in The Scotsman as having had five very successful productions in two years (Mansfield 2005). 26 ABERTAY MEDIA STUDIES Thus, Mary Slessor holds value to the Livingstone, W. (1916) Mary Slessor of References internal and projected identities of both Calabar: Pioneer Missionary Missionary, London: Anon (2005) ‘Hearing Mary Slessor Speak’ Scotland and Calabar. While there has Hodder and Stoughton. The Courier, Dundee: 8th April. been a re-emergence of interest in her Livingstone, W. (1931) Mary Slessor Ben Akpan, A. (1996) ‘Mary Slessor Lives work and identity in Scotland, a ‘living’ the White Queen, London: Hodder and On’, The Guardian (Nigeria) Lagos: January heritage has survived in Calabar where Stoughton. 13th. her legacy is omnipresent. Although she Mansfield, S. (2005) ‘Gibb Keeps it Real Dailly, M. (2002) ‘Good Enough for Bank may be viewed as part of the traditional in Gritty Musicals Dealing with Lives of Notes but not for Charity’ Scotland on cultural heritage of both nations and Ordinary People,’ The Scotsman, September Sunday, Edinburgh: 1st September. a figure tied to the histories of both 14th. Drury, P. (2000) ‘Legacy of the Scots places, she may also be seen as a link Meloche, R. (2002) Mary Slessor: Courage Missionary who is a Saint to the People between a reformulated past to serve the in Africa, Seattle, Washington: YWAM of Nigeria’, The Sunday Herald Herald, Glasgow: needs of a dynamic connected present. Publishing. December 24th. Until recently, each geographic National Commission for area had sought to express her Museums and Monuments (1986) life without a clear-cut and The Story of Old Calabar: A Guide intentional process of connecting to the National Museum at the Old up to those narratives adopted Residency, Calabar. Residency by the other. However, in recent Okoroafor, E. (1995) ‘Mary years, this is being undertaken Slessor’s Mission: Conquest of much more to provide a cohesive, Okoyong’, Headlines (Nigeria) more reconnected account. Her September No.28. story and letters from and about Robertson, E. (2001) Mary Nigeria, which are held mainly Slessor: The Barefoot Missionary Missionary, in the Dundee City Archives and Edinburgh: NMS Publishing. Tucker, R. (1988) Guardians of the Dundee Central Library, have been An image from the Dundee Central Library Collection transcribed by volunteers and are Great Commission: The Story of Jeffreys, M. (1950) ‘Mary Slessor – now available worldwide on the Internet Women in Modern Missions, Grand Rapids, Magistrate’, The West African Review, Part (www.dundeecity.gov.uk/centlib/slessor/ Michigan: Academie Books. I (June): pp. 628-629; and Part II (July): pp. mary.htm). These have been frequently 802-805. Catherine Di Domenico is Director of accessed around the world, including Johnston, I. (2004) ‘Following the Nigeria. They have given those with an Postgraduate Research Degrees and Footsteps of the White Queen of Calabar’ interest in her life particular insights since 1993 has taught Sociology at the The Scotsman, Edinburgh, September 4th. into her character as well as presenting University of Abertay, Dundee. Her main Kingsley, M. (1897) Travels in West Africa, intriguing historical images of and research interests are in gender and reflections on Scotland, her native country, Congo Français, Corisco and Cameroons, women’s studies, biographies and historical London: Macmillan (reprinted by and Nigeria, her adopted land. studies, and health, leisure and social Everyman) development studies (particularly relating to West Africa). Keep up to date with MEJ Previous issues MEJ 38 MEJ 36 • • • • • • • • Horror film Literary adaptations Teaching Coronation St Articles from St Andrews University 20 years of the MEJ Media Studies in Scotland: Lessons from History Sound Articles from the University of Lincoln MEJ 37 MEJ 35 • • • • • • • • • • • Media education in Europe Media Studies in Scotland: the end of History? Economic shaping of US TV drama Race and the Scottish Press Horror cinema The Lord of the Rings campaign Trains in British Cinema Buffy the Vampire Slayer special issue Articles from Glasgow University Teaching Harry Pottter for 5-14 Teaching Pearl Harbour post-9/11 Copies of MEJ 38 are available for £8; all earlier issues are £2 per copy including postage. See page 43 for AMES contact address. media education journal 39 27 Teen pic as horror-science fiction: Donnie Darko’s parallel universes Nick Lacey D onnie Darko (USA, 2001) is an excellent film to use in the classroom because: not many students are likely to be familiar with it; the film offers a demanding narrative in an engaging way; it sweetens the ‘pill’ of science fiction (SF) with the teen pic; it will give students experience of independent cinema. It is also a film that lends itself to a fruitful application of all the key concepts; however it is certainly not recommended that students should be subjected to an in-depth examination of all the concepts through one text. Genre Teen pics, horror and science fiction (SF) all have readily identifiable repertoires of elements: Narrative Teen pics: ‘coming of age’; conflict with authority; often occurs in a short period of time Horror: vampire; possession; creation of monster; slasher; rape-revenge Science fiction: first contact; exploration of space; the uncontrolled machine; after a nuclear holocaust; time travel; alternative worlds; doppelganger Iconography Teen pics: fashion; pop-rock soundtrack Horror: blood; monsters; religious relics (including crucifixes); kitchen knives in a wooden block; creaking doors; screams; skulls; thunder and lightening Science fiction: ray guns; synthesiser music; futuristic clothing; spaceships (i.e. not actual spaceships); aliens; high-tech gloss; computer generated special effects Characters Teen pics: cliques; bitches; jocks; figures of authority (teachers - ha!), parents; the ‘law’); outsiders; new girl/guy Horror: monsters; ghosts; vampires; werewolves; mad scientists; ignorant villagers; ‘maidens in distress’; zombies; experts in ‘supernatural science’ Science fiction: man of action; engineer; mad scientist Settings Teen pics: high school; ‘street’; home/ bedroom; club/diner Horror: castles; old dark houses; suburbia; Transylvania; cellars Science fiction: time: past/present/future; space: inner/outer Whilst the repertoire of elements is good for identifying genre, analysis is more At the beginning of the film, Donnie wakes up on a mountain road . . . media education journal 39 fruitfully conducted into how a film uses genre(s) to create meaning. Genres can also be defined by associated themes and oppositions, such as adult v. child in the teen pic (hence the ‘coming of age’ narrative); human v. non human (monster/alien) in both horror and SF. As a horror-SF-teen pic, Donnie Darko is a hyphenate as it is combining three genres without creating something new; unlike, say, teen horror (a hybrid). The SF element is most evident in its use of the idea of parallel (director Richard Kelly talks of ‘tangent’) universes (which quantum mechanics suggests might exist) and time travel. In relation to the confused world of teens the film might be suggesting that the world is a confusing place and doesn’t just appear to be so to the bewildered adolescent. The film also draws upon horror, particularly in Donnie’s (Jake Gyllenhaal) encounters with Frank in the events leading up to Halloween. The influence of Expressionist cinema is also evident, a form that attempts to externalise the disturbed mind; in this case Donnie’s schizophrenia. Narrative As in all time travel stories, the narrative of Donnie Darko is potentially confusing and, possibly, incoherent. In Todorov’s structural terms: Situation: Donnie living a typical middle class teen life (apart from his schizophrenia) Disruption: aircraft engine lands on his house but he survives (having been lured away by Frank) Resolution: Donnie dies thus repairing the break in the space-time continuum. 28 Every US high school picture has a ‘going into school in the morning’ shot. It is unusual to have a narrative end with the death of the protagonist, though this is necessitated because his elusion of death causes the narrative problem. In Proppian terms Donnie is the hero as he resolves the narrative; the villain is Frank as he, ironically, saves Donnie. Donnie, like an action hero, shoots the villain but then saves him by remaining in bed to die. Donnie’s selflessness makes him an appropriate hero; however his laughter, just before he is annihilated, is ambiguous – is he accepting death or thinking he’s got away with it? The narrative works to hook the audience through the mystery (Barthes’ enigma code) as to where the engine came from and what is Frank’s (as the ‘rabbit’) intentions? In addition, Donnie’s (and to a lesser extent Karen Pomeroy’s (Drew Barrymore)) conflict with the school’s ‘new age’ lunacy serves to create obstacles, to be overcome, in his life. Another narrative layer is Donnie’s pyromania, revealed to his psychiatrist, and enacted, through Frank’s prompting, on Jim Cunningham (and so revealing Cunningham’s, and by extension Beth Farmer’s – she fails to see that Sparkleforce sexualises pre-pubescents – hypocrisy). In terms of the ‘story’ (to use Shklovsky’s structuralist terms), the plot ends at the beginning. The 28 days that form the bulk of the narrative are ‘lost’ when Donnie, through unspecified comic book (yet another genre!) superhuman powers, plucks the engine out of the sky and sends it into the past. In saving the world, the engine has to kill him or time will forever remain ‘out of joint’, Donnie also saves Gretchen; indeed she appears as an ‘innocent’ ‘little’ girl in the end as she’s cycling and wearing dungarees. These dungarees were seen being worn earlier, presumably by Gretchen, on a trampoline, presumably with Donnie; but it isn’t clear in what timeline this occurs. This seems to suggest that the world in which the engine actually lands is not the one at the start of the narrative; Gretchen’s not a young woman here traumatised by her stepfather; if it were meant to be the ‘original’ world then I think the narrative becomes incoherent at this point. However as Gretchen doesn’t appear until after the engine has landed on the house then we can assume her life is very different in the original world. If we were back in the ‘original’ world, at the end, then the hypocrites will continue to prosper and so the world is a worse place for the loss of Donnie. On the other hand, Gretchen and Frank would survive and Donnie doesn’t bring shame upon his family by killing his sister’s boyfriend. Most Hollywood narratives conclude with the world being a better place; I don’t think Donnie Darko does. Representation Clearly, as a teen pic, the film draws upon generic types. These can be investigated as part of representation by questioning what messages and values are being offered; for example, why are jocks vilified? Donnie Darko departs, somewhat, from generic representations of the parents and teachers. Donnie’s parents are sympathetic and although we are introduced to the Darko family with a typical argument over dinner, neither the parents are shown to be the cause of the conflict nor repressive in their behaviour, despite dad’s traditional gender views. Similarly, teachers are more than figures of hate and/or fun. Monittoff (Noah Wiley) and Pomeroy, representing science and the arts, both oppose the repressive atmosphere of the private school (and coproducer Barrymore’s casting draws upon her rebellious persona). These characters are counterpointed with Beth Farmer and Jim Cunningham representing the hypocritical forces of reaction. The casting of the ‘over-weight’ Chinese-American Jolene Purdy as the outsider, Cherita, adds a racial edge to the film (she does appear in an extraordinary number of shots) and is used to emphasise the hypocrisy of the Cunningham-Farmer axis through their reaction to her performance just before Sparklemotion. What is striking about Donnie Darko is its attempt to represent the ideas informing Einsteins’ theory of relativity. A colleague (Jason Drewett-Gray, Benton Park’s head of physics) informs me that the film is accurate in its use of theory but the energy required to create the EinsteinRosen bridge, that allows the engine to time travel, is so vast that, in the context of the film, it would not be possible. Audience Donnie Darko’s release, to coincide with Halloween in 2001, suffered from its proximity to September 11’s aircraft ‘falling’ from the sky (the ‘Arabic’ font used for the titles had to be removed before it was shown). It was given a platform release in an attempt to build the audience that wasn’t actually found media education journal 39 29 (in the US) until the appearance of the DVD. Cult movies rarely thrive in the cinema (there needs to be an exclusivity associated with appreciating the film) and often have a narrative open to numerous readings; Blade Runner (1982) being a prime example. The film also offers an alternative to the more formulaic products of Hollywood and so appeals to an audience seeking intellectual stimulation as well as entertainment. In terms of ‘uses and gratifications’: the teen pic is particularly good at offering personal identity for its target audience (one of the few genres that can be defined by who it’s aimed at); it may stimulate a search for information about relativity and time travel (Stephen Hawking’s A Short History of the Universe is give a ‘name check’). The students (year 10s) I showed the film to were entertained (and puzzled) by the film and a number were stimulated to socially interact about the film after the lessons. Institution Many students’ experience of cinema is limited to contemporary major studio Hollywood product. The fact that Donnie Darko is independently produced does not guarantee a film outside or even on the fringes of the mainstream. However the film offers enough of the familiar, via the teen pic genre, to engage its audience and, for those with an enquiring mind, gives the opportunity to engage intellectually, as well as emotionally, with the film. Production companies: Pandora Cinema (US) Flower Films (US) Adam Fields Productions Gaylord Films (US) Indie example: Flower Films (from: drewfan.com/info/flowerfilms.php, accessed May 2005) About Nancy Juvonen founded Flower Films, Inc. with Drew Barrymore in 1995. In the summer of 1997, Flower began a two-year, first-look deal with Fox 2000 Pictures, a division of Twentieth Century Fox. Juvonen is responsible for Flower’s day to day operations and oversees each of the projects on their media education journal 39 Producer Drew Barrymore plays Karen Pomeroy – the ‘liberal’ teacher in a private school. development slate, including three projects at Fox 2000, of which Never Been Kissed was the first film to go into production. Since Flower Films has been opened it has produced; Olive, the Other Reindeer (1999), Charlie’s Angels (2000), Riding in Cars with Boys (2001), Donnie Darko (2001), Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle (2003), and Duplex (2003). Upcoming productions include; So Love Returns (2003), Fifty First Kisses (2004), and A Confederacy of Dunces (2004). [Fifty Fifty First Kisses became Fifty First Dates in 2004, Fever Pitch appeared in 2005, the other two titles have not been completed/released.] Biographies Nancy Juvonen: Raised bi-coastally in Marin County, California, and Connecticut, Juvonen majored in education at the University of Southern California. After college she settled in San Francisco where, before joining Barrymore, she assisted legendary E Street Band member Clarence Clemons in starting his company. Richard Kelly, on the DVD commentary, describes Barrymore as the godmother of Donnie Darko. For financial backers her appearance in the cast helps reduce the risk. Flower Films’ slate suggest a mainstream sensibility and so Donnie Darko is something of an exception; though if A Confederacy of Dunces (from a famously quirky novel by John Kennedy Toole) ever appears it is likely to be somewhat offbeat. Donnie Darko received a platform release (58 theatres and probably the same number of screens) in the hope that positive word of mouth would allow this to be increased. The opening weekend take of a mere $110 000 (and a final gross of $0.5m) meant this was not to be; the release of the director’s cut, in 2004, more than doubled the take. Compare this to summer blockbuster I, Robot (2004) that opened in over 3000 theatres with a $52m opening weekend. We can be confident that this film cost more than Donnie Darko, shot on a miniscule $4.5m in 28 days. The ‘Director’s Cut’ is more often used as a marketing device rather than the ‘true’ version of the film shorn by studios’ meddling. Donnie Darko’s director’s cut adds some good looking special effects but attempts to explain more clearly what’s happening through extracts from Grandma Death’s book. Because these read to me as pseudo-scientific gobbledegook they actually serve to make events more ridiculous and so detract from the film. Conclusion This has offered brief suggestions of using the key concepts to make sense of Donnie Darko and has by no means exhausted the possibilities. I think the original version of the film will work better in the classroom, if only because it’s shorter, as students won’t feel obliged to try and understand the narrative’s logic so much. This piece is based on a presentation given at the AMES conference at Stirling University in May 2005. Thanks to colleagues for their contributions to the discussion, some of which has been incorporated into the article. Nick Lacey is Head of Media at Benton Park School, Leeds. His latest book, Introduction to Film, (Palgrave Macmillan), is reviewed on p. 35 30 Teaching Whale Rider to the 10-14 age group Margaret Hubbard W hale Rider is set in a small New Zealand coastal village inhabited by a Maori population who claim descent from Paikea, the Whale Rider. For 1,000 years a male heir born to the Chief has become leader of the tribe. At the beginning of the film, the wife of Porourangi, the Chief’s eldest son, dies in childbirth along with the male twin she was carrying. The surviving child is a girl who is given the name of Pai, the traditional name given to the male child. Porourangi is grief stricken and departs for Europe, thereby leaving Pai to be brought up by his father and mother (her grandparents), Koro and Nanny Flowers. Koro loves Pai, but refuses to accept her as tribal Chief. He is convinced that the troubles of the tribe are attributable to Pai aspiring to be leader. He tries to train the other boys in the tribe in the hope that a future leader emerges but to no avail. Far out at sea a school of whales respond to Pai’s calls for guidance. They swim to the little village but they become beached. Symbolically the tribe will die. Only Pai is willing and able to make the sacrifice to save her people, and through this act Koro accepts her leadership. Not the kind of film which would immediately spring to mind for the top end of primary and the junior end of secondary! A closer examination of the film however bears fruit particularly in looking at gender, race and culture. What follows is one method of teaching this film between the ages of 10 and 13. I have outlined a suggested approach and followed this with appropriate Representation analysis tied to the Narrative. Lastly I have provided image analysis tied to key scenes. Methodology of Teaching In teaching the film begin by showing it in full, and then inviting responses to it. Many of the responses may be negative, but this itself becomes a useful tool for debate. The second step is an image analysis of the opening scenes of the film (see below), and a thorough examination of how the language of the film is tied to its meaning. The teacher can then lead the class through Representation by considering the representations suggested below. This is best approached by brainstorming initial reactions, and following this with close analysis of individual scenes in groups, pairs or whole class work as the teacher sees as appropriate. Once this has been completed each group should report back to the whole class so that there is an overall ‘picture’ of the construction and possible meaning of the film. The resolution of the film i.e. the last section needs to be studied by the whole class. Pupils should, by the end of the study, be aware of how the key aspects construct meaning in a film. Representation The representation of the Maori people can be looked at under the headings of male/female, Maori/European and tradition. Male/Female The whole film is predicated on the division of roles. Koro refuses to accept Pai as leader despite her repeatedly showing herself to be more capable of accepting this role than any of the boys around her. We see her challenging the old ways, and undertaking the gruelling demands of traditional warrior practice. It is she who goes into the sea to bring back Koro’s prize possession. The casting of Pai is significant. Keisha Castle- Hughes is a pretty child but this has been down played because of the point of the role. One of the ways this is done is through her clothing. At no point is Pai dressed in a feminine way. Furthermore she has no female friends. Thus in the construction of Pai we see a girl rebelling against the traditional role she sees in her uncle’s girlfriend and her grandmother. Both these women exercise power in the domestic world (Nanny Flowers’ rebellion about smoking sets this up), but are invisible in the public world. The male world, on the other hand, is the public arena, and it is that of action and activity. This is true even in the role of Porourangi who walks away from the tragedy of his wife’s death, leaving his daughter to be looked after by his mother. By examining the key gender scenes of the film pupils can reach understanding of the gender relationships in the community of the film. The resolution of the narrative and of the gender relationships is in the last scene, which will be examined in detail below. Maori/ European This is the most problematic discourse in the film. The Maori people are presented to us in a less than positive light. Koro’s younger son has grown into a beer drinking, snooker playing unemployed young man who has given up on his heritage. His reason for helping Pai is less to do with a belief in his culture than as a way to needle his father. In an early conversation with his mother we learn that he, like Pai has never been good enough for Koro. The music of the film at this point serves to reinforce this. media education journal 39 31 Grandmother passes the new baby over to her youngest son with the grandfather seen through the window of the delivery room. The Maori/ European dichotomy is also explicit in the scene between Koro and Porourangi when the latter comes back from Europe. The framing of the scene emphasises the gap between them. They face each other literally across an empty space, as they do culturally in the more crowded scene with the slides of Porourangi’s European art. At the end of the film the community is brought together through the traditional culture. Porourangi has returned with his pregnant, blonde European girlfriend. The community is united with Pai as the leader, but in this is the very problem. The community and its people only attains dignity through its past. At no point does it move forward into the current century. The film fails to address the articulation between past culture and present society. Thus the film locks the Maoris into a stereotypical backward-looking past. It is precisely this which makes the film a useful tool of study. A close look at the scene of Koro teaching the boys the warrior ritual, and the scene when Pai approaches his uncle for tuition raise questions about the representation of the Maori people. As with the gender issue the last scene is crucial to the sense of the film. Tradition/Love The two key scenes in this discourse are the meal scene and the speech scene. In the meal scene there is an awkward silence. Pai has displeased her grandfather because he has caught her trying to take on the ritual of the male tasks. She loves Koro deeply and his displeasure hurts her. media education journal 39 Both Koro and Nanny Flowers are also hurting. He is angry; yet he loves her and Nanny is torn between the two of them. The emotional struggle in all three of them is reflected in the construction of the shots. A breakdown of the shots is as follows. It begins with a close - up of Pai. She apologises to Koro but is unsure of his reaction. Cut to Koro glancing at Pai. Cut back to Pai beginning to eat. Only at that point does the camera begin to pull back to reveal the whole table. Nanny Flowers speaks to Koro. The slow pan is contrasted with Koro’s violence as he slams his fist on the table and a cup falls to the floor. There follows a series of cuts to all three characters . The camera tracks Nanny Flowers as she speaks and then cleans up the mess. Koro begins to eat, as does Pai. By breaking down the scene in this way pupils can see how the tension is conveyed through the language of film. The atmosphere is reinforced by no background soundtrack. The speech scene is constructed differently. It is shot in a wider focus as it takes place in a hall rather than amidst a compact group at a table. We see Pai beginning her speech and becoming increasingly distressed that her grandfather has not come as her invited special guest to the school concert. What she is unaware of is that he has in fact set out to attend the concert, but has been diverted by the beached school of whales. In the concert we see Pai in mid shot: her isolation on the stage makes her look more vulnerable as she struggles to speak. By intercutting the exterior and the interior scenes we see the link between tradition and love. Pai is dressed in her traditional costume telling the story of the Whale Rider and offering her view that society should change, while both holding dear the traditions, and deeply respecting the grandfather who has let her down. This she says through her tears. He meanwhile has overcome his fury at what Pai has done to challenge tradition out of his love for her. On the beach the wide shots of him make him as vulnerable and lonely as do the mid shots of her in the hall. The two characters are wrestling between love and tradition made explicit in the framing at the moment the whales are beached and the narrative moves forward to its resolution. Image analysis of the opening and closing scenes: The film’s opening credits are on the blue of the sea with Pai’s voiceover setting the story. The music has an eeriness about it which underscores what she is saying. The film then cuts to shots of a woman in agony in hospital, accompanied by a terrified husband. The shots are in closeup, and the camera moves in a discordant way from the point of view of the woman to indicate that the situation is slipping 32 is Porourangi’s pregnant blonde girlfriend being accepted as one of the group. We see the boat in the water, hear Pai’s voice and then finally we see her with Koro in the central position of the boat chanting. Koro and Pai are shot in close- up, she smiling at him just as she did in the bicycle scene at the beginning. The boat sails out to sea accompanied by chanting and Pai’s voiceover, “Our people will go forward with all of our strength”. The final scene withe prow of the boat slicing across the screen out of the doctor’s hands. A shot of a silent scream is followed by crying which is of much less intensity than is evident in the visuals. The music conveys the pain far more than does the voice. Here the language of film is superseding the natural sound in order to convey the intensity of the pain. The film then cuts back to the whale, as Pai continues telling the story of her people. The next few shots are in slow motion, as if time has lost its normality, and when the shots go out of focus we realise that the woman is about to die. Her last words are to call the child Pai. This is shown in very tight close-up on her lips. The shot then bridges to the baby’s mouth and then via out of focus shots to his closed eyes. The shot only comes into focus when we see the surviving baby with one eye open. Only then does the camera pull back on the whole scene and we see the distraught man cradling his dead wife with the two cots; one blue, one pink beside the bed. The light shines on to the pink one. We know by this that the girl has survived. Cut to the establishing shot of a hospital carpark. There is no music as we track an older couple into the building, so we have no clue as to which parents they are/how they are going to react. Again Pai’s voice comes through, and we know from what she says that she is the little girl who survived. The culture is set up through the ritual chant of one of the older women and is contrasted with Koro’s opening words, ‘Where’s the boy?’ The split between Porourangi and Koro is clear from this point. Koro has no idea how to handle Porourangi’s agony and blurts out the wrong words. The split is complete when Porourangi says the child will be called Pai as his dying wife had said, and Koro refuses to accept this. This has been shot in close-up but when Porourangi breaks away from his father the shot is mid to long .The physical space between them echoes the emotional gap. This is reinforced by the shiny harshness of the polished corridor. The space and the shine is used later in the film when Poourangi comes back from Europe after twelve years and they once again quarrel because Porourangi will not take his place as the next Chief. After Porourangi has left the hospital we see Koro looking down at the dead baby while Nanny Flowers is visible in the corridor with the living child. She hands the baby to her younger son thereby setting up the link between these two characters which will be important later. Twelve years elapse and we next see Koro and Pai on a bicycle. She looks at him adoringly. The weather is lovely, the scenery is attractive and it is clear that the old man has come to love her. The gentleness of their relationship is evident in the slow pans and the music. By leading a class through a step by step image analysis, pupils can see clearly that the shot selection is inextricably tied to the meaning of the narrative. The last scene of the film provides its resolution. It begins with the prow of the boat slicing across the screen and apparently rotating. The movement is slow, the boat decorated, and set against the blue sky the picture is uplifting and quite mesmeric. The film then cuts to the men pushing the boat into the sea, and the chanting which has been so far subdued becomes stronger. The men are in traditional costume and are tattooed. The camera moves round all the characters who have played a part in the narrative, while at the same time keeping the audience wondering about what has happened to Pai and Koro. The entire narrative has moved to this resolution and thus the characters in the boat and on the shore serve as the build up to the outcome of the narrative of Koro and Pai. Among the crowd on the beach The last scene makes clear that the resolution of the gender issue and the Maori/ European issue can only come about by upholding a variation on the traditional ways. Porourangi has come from Europe and the family has been reunited. The family wounds are healed, as are those of the community family. It is however not a comfortable resolution, and gives rise to much valuable debate. It is important, when doing an image analysis with a class, to study each shot in detail. Only by so doing can pupils really grasp the link between the language of film and meaning. It goes without saying that the length of each section has to be short. Shot- by-shot breakdown over an extended piece of film would kill it. Thus when different groups are working on representation it is a good idea to give different sections of the film to different groups - thereby making it possible to have a large number of sections of the film studied in depth without loosing the interest of the class. Lastly it is valuable to study the key aspects of Audience and Institution for this film. Who is the intended audience? Is it big budget? Who were instrumental in its making? How would Hollywood have done the story differently? Pupils are thereby introduced to a non-Hollywood film, which for many may be entirely new, and this educational experience alone makes a study of Whale Rider valuable. Resources The New Zealand film website at www.whaleriderthemovie.co.nz/new_ zealand/ has an Education Pack for free download. It was produced before the DVD and has a useful synopsis. Margaret Hubbard was, until 2004, Principal Teacher of English and Media at Craigroyston Community High School, Edinburgh. She was convener of AMES for 4 years and editor of the Media Education Journal for 5 years. She is a bfi Associate tutor and a Media Studies setter for SQA. media education journal 39 33 reviews Guardians of Power Power, David Edwards and David Cromwell, Pluto 2006, £14.99, 241pp, ISBN 0745324827 Finally, here is a book that examines the role of the British ‘liberal’ news media and their integral role in the functioning of state-corporate power. Until David Edwards and David Cromwell formed the media watchdog Media Lens (www.medialens.org) in 2001, there was scant sustained and regular critique of the performance of mainstream news organisations. The main thrust of this book deals with the contradiction in terms of a corporate ‘free-press’. The authors discuss this contradiction in detail throughout with numerous case studies to back up their claim that “media performance is shaped by market forces” and that “the corporate mainstream functions as a de facto propaganda system promoting and protecting state-corporate interests.” In Chapter 1, Edwards and Cromwell examine Chomsky and Herman’s landmark media education journal 39 work, Manufacturing Consent and discuss their ‘propaganda model’ in their analysis of the US media, indicating that the same ‘filters’ determine what becomes news in the UK. This introductory chapter thus sets a framework for understanding the nine case studies that follow. Because media institutions are part of the corporate world, as in any other corporation, employees (in this case editors and journalists) share with those who own and run those institutions a common ideology inherently supportive of statecorporate power. Employees of corporations (media corporations included) are expected to run the company in the interests of the company and its shareholders without always needing to be told what to do. It’s not hard to imagine the consequences this has for the ‘neutrality’ of professional journalism. How can journalists, the authors ask, report independently of, indeed challenge, the corporate system of which they are an integral part? That’s the first filter. Secondly, the authors point out that papers like the Observer, the Independent Observer on Sunday, the Independent and the Guardian rely on advertising for 75% of their revenue. Edwards and Cromwell argue that this reliance on advertising compromises neutral journalism. Newspapers sell a product – the readership – to advertisers and have to compete for their niche in that market. Similarly, the media are not in the game of overspending either resources or time on in-depth independent journalism when they can easily get information at little or no cost from official sources like the government and the military. This reliance on official sources, as shown throughout the book, has skewed the debate on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. In addition, flak emanating from either the government or the corporate sector (or both) also has the effect of pressurising journalists and editors to conform to the dominant ideology. The authors cite the Blairite campaign against the BBC and the resignations of Andrew Gilligan, Gavyn Davies and Greg Dyke as one such example of this, even though claims made by those who opposed the war were subsequently vindicated. During the Cold War, anti-communism acted as a filter of news reporting and journalists who questioned the legitimacy of government foreign policy both in the US and the UK were often dismissed as apologists for Stalinism. Similar straw man arguments exist in these times as the Blairite rhetoric of anti-terrorism replaces anti-communism, demonising those who question the benign objectives of the Bush/Blair coalition. These five filters have had an enormous impact on the way in which the British public perceive and interpret the world. There’s no conspiracy, for built into the news media are structural characteristics that filter out challenges to the statecorporate system. Bearing all of this in mind, Edwards and Cromwell study a number of cases in which the media played a pivotal role in justifying official policy. These range from coverage of climate change, US/UK support for Suharto’s genocide in East Timor, the withdrawal of UNSCOM weapons inspectors from Iraq, the invasions of both Afghanistan and Iraq as well as the NATO attack against Serbia. They find that the ‘liberal’ media’s gung-ho coverage, parroting official and military statements and censoring by omission arguments that contradicted official policy, helped justify and legitimise attacks which killed thousands and caused unspeakable suffering. The authors argue convincingly that the role of the ‘liberal’ media has been one of complicity in some of the world’s current horrors. The more you read Guardians of Power the more you find yourself disturbed by the pitiful performance of the ‘liberal’ media on key political issues of our day. Their findings are corroborated by other case studies on the US’s pivotal role in the overthrow of Jean Bertrand-Aristide in Haiti; the apologetic coverage of Reagan’s terrorist interventions in Central America, particularly Nicaragua; Clinton’s numerous bombing campaigns against Serbia, Sudan and Iraq. The subservience of the media to the interests of power – backed up with copious evidence – in these cases is stunning. 34 The authors conclude by arguing that a corporatemedia system whose prime motivation is the increment of profit will always fall in line with the ideology of the state and business sector, of which it is part. While they argue that it is possible to influence and pressurise journalists’ performance, this does not resolve the central issue of the media’s structural flaws. Yet for Edwards and Cromwell, democratic and compassionate media are already beginning to have some considerable influence. They cite the example of South Korea where the Internet has played a fundamental role in that country’s recent democratic opening. In the West, many ‘alternative’ media organisations, like Z Magazine and its web counterpart ZNet, are nonprofit and don’t advertise yet produce excellent articles challenging Thatcher’s maxim that ‘there is no alternative.’ Such organisations are becoming increasingly influential and important for those sick and tired of the mainstream acquiescence to elite interests. It’s hard to imagine a book more relevant to our times. Current mainstream media performance, as explored in this book, makes Orwell’s nightmare almost look quaint. This book will prove an excellent resource to those who wish to look outside the bubble of mainstream media newspeak as well as encouraging them to participate in a more compassionate and humane media. Peter Watt University of Aberdeen Bernard MacLaverty on the set of Bye-Child Poetry in Motion DVD, ‘Bye-Child’, Educational Resources [For purchase details see article notes on p.39] How do you fancy spending a day in the company of Bernard MacLaverty and Andrew Bonner, listening to them discuss the transition of Seamus Heaney’s captivating poem ‘Bye-Child’ into a Bafta nominated short film? I recently attended their development day for teachers, ‘Poem Into Film Will Go’ and was both captivated and inspired. The subject of the day appealed to teachers of English and Media Studies with its dual focus on poem and film and while the content was informative and stimulating, the presentation was wellpitched and entertaining. Bonner made it obvious from the outset that he intended Bye-Child to be used in an educational context. The itinerary for the day was divided into a number of sessions covering material contained on the ‘Poetry in Motion’ DVD resource that was issued to delegates and that is available to purchase independently. This is an impressive educational resource including: film, director and producer commentaries, original shoot rushes, a reading of the poem and various PowerPoint presentations. The seventeen-minute film that we watched at the start of the day forms a tender and harrowing adaptation of Heaney’s “lunar distances and henhouse intimacies”. MacLaverty recommended that pupils watch the film before they read the poem, a recommendation reflected in the content listing which places filmic material ahead of the poem, though obviously the users will decide viewing order for themselves. The director’s commentary explains decisions made, such as why the depiction of the moon changes; MacLaverty emphasised how he sought to take the viewer on a journey that centred upon the paradox of man’s backward capacity for cruelty at a time of technological advancement. Significantly, the film begins and ends with shots of the moon – in darkness at the start of the film and in daylight at the end, with a bleeding across of sound. The producer’s commentary gives insight into practical considerations of making the film. Bonner outlined for us his experience of acquiring funding, then worked through: pre-production – storyboarding and testing ideas to minimise opportunities for failure; production – Bye-Child was shot over six days and used a real life church that had been moved to a museum; and post-production – editing pictures, balancing colours, checking prints, dubbing sound, recording music etc. He also offered tempting tips for those of us interested in, or striving to use, video and digital media in the classroom. An interactive and appealing aspect of the resource is the inclusion of original shoot rushes from Scene 1 that may be used by pupils, so allowing them to handle professional standard footage and to extend their literacy in the semiotic domain of film. The reading of the poem by MacLaverty does the poem justice. Finally, instructions are given how to access a range of PowerPoint presentations using a Mac or PC. Such presentations cover storyboards, screenplay, and production. They include a range of resources and activities, are highly effective and work equally well when projected on a whiteboard as part of whole class teaching, or when viewed on a PC/Mac by pupils working in small groups. In addition, and from a teacher’s perspective most welcome, was the revelation that a whole range of differentiated lesson plans and worksheets devised in co-operation with bfi Education (and the PowerPoint presentations), are available on a website dedicated to the resource and accessible through the password given in a booklet that accompanies the DVD. Such material covers English and Media Studies and is geared towards Scottish pupils aged 14-18 and Key Stage 4 of the English National Curriculum. It focuses on, “the process of filmmaking through literary adaptation: how printed text becomes moving image text” and is designed to promote creativity, with units of work shaped around learning outcomes that encourage print and performance based responses to the text – writing poetry and using it to create a screenplay, performance and video production. Bonner’s hope is “that students and teachers enter their own worlds of poetry and film, and produce something that stands as a truly ‘poetic’ piece of work.” At the end of the day, MacLaverty led a Question and Answer session providing further insight into such matters as the media education journal 39 35 time spent making ByeChild (three and a half years – there were a number of false starts), visual motifs, and the role of family and fathers. Once done, everyone decamped to an adjacent bar for a convivial chat that rounded off the day supremely. This was a terrific in-service – engaging and inspiring – led by two former English teachers who have created an excellent resource for the secondary classroom. Should you have the opportunity to attend MacLaverty and Bonner’s development day ‘Poem Into Film Will Go’, fill in the form and go. (The pack is included). If not, buy a copy of the DVD Educational Resource Pack Karen Milne Cults Academy, Aberdeen Introduction to Film, Nick Lacey, Palgrave MacMillan 2005, £16.99, 336 pp, ISBN 1403916276 Anyone familiar with Nick Lacey’s previous books will look forward eagerly to this comprehensive introduction to film. Lacey’s personal involvement with film was already evident from his choice of image for the covers of his two earlier books, Image and Representation (1998) and Narrative and Genre (2000), both key texts. The first has Rita Hayworth as Gilda, veiled in tobacco smoke and smouldering like her cigarette, the second has media education journal 39 more of Hayworth, this time with her then husband, Orson Welles, in a still from The Lady from Shanghai. Lacey’s latest book gives him the opportunity to focus purely on film, to which he brings the double perspective of film buff and academic enthusiast. Indeed, this book is addressed to his fellow film buffs and enthusiasts, and its great strength is that, although it is academic, serious and comprehensive (of which more later), it is always informed by Lacey’s own film watching experience and personal taste. The content is sequenced logically, beginning with film language, which Lacey identifies as ‘the point of pleasure, the film itself.’ Acknowledging the need to make conscious and explicit the unconscious, implicit understanding of film language that we all share, he begins with mise en scène, arguing persuasively that accompanying diegetic sound belongs within any analysis of the still image on the screen. The examples he cites to demonstrate aspects of film language come from recent films, such as The Others, Minority Report (both 2002) and The Perfect Storm (2000), while his section on the significance of stars as texts, based on Dyer’s categorisation (1979), cites Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz, analysing their star personas in Vanilla Sky (2001). This (and other analyses in each chapter) is ‘boxed off’, literally, from the rest of the chapter and there are a further five of these boxes in chapter 1. While it makes some sense to have these boxes within the chapters rather than at the end of each as appendices, it does make for a somewhat disrupted flow (for this reader) and the darker type used within the boxes can be visually distracting, at least initially. The second chapter on Film Genre and Narrative follows the same format, with no fewer than eight boxes covering science fiction, romantic comedy, the ‘slasher’ sub-genre, Hollywood action films and melodrama (in the case of genre) and the narrative of the early cinema, an analysis of 28 Days Later based on Propp and postmodern narratives. Perhaps it takes time to become accustomed to this unusual format, since by now the embedding of these boxes within text seemed more illuminating asides rather than distracting digressions. This is a hugely complex area, of course, and it is to Lacey’s credit that his analyses and exposition loses nothing of their clarity and persuasiveness despite the challenge of having to compress such an enormous topic into a single chapter. In his consideration of Film as Industry (chapter 3), Lacey focuses on Hollywood, justifiably so since it is certainly the largest and most influential film industry in the world. He traces the growth of Hollywood from the early days of the studios and the movie moguls, the vertically integrated major studios with their mass production methods, through the slow post-war decline of the 1950s and the blockbuster 1970s to ‘package Hollywood’, where script, stars and director are packaged together as a means of securing finance, and the studios as part of massive media corporations. He also includes sections on marketing, film festivals and the influence of ‘the DVD revolution’ in what is again a compressed but comprehensive topic but one that is notoriously labyrinthine for students. In chapter 4, which is addressed to students rather than film buffs, Lacey again makes an area of film studies that can seem both daunting and inaccessible, neither of these; indeed, he succeeds in introducing the student to film theory without, in his words, ‘inducing (too many) headaches.’ Such a change of gear into the academic rather than the recreational is achieved smoothly and each of the sub-sections (which range from realism, structuralism, auteurism and ideology to psychoanalysis and feminism) contains helpful advice about further reading. Far from being dry or academic, this chapter is enlivened by examples drawn from a wide range of films as diverse thematically and chronologically as Young Mr Lincoln (1939) and Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001). Lots more boxes here too but by now they are familiar and helpful. Chapter 5 on Film and History continues to cite examples from both US and other cinema. His history of film in fifty or so pages is, of necessity, ‘potted’ but it includes an excellent (boxed!) piece on The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (1920) in the context of German Expressionism, and of A Taste of Honey (1961) and Blow-Up (1966) in Sixties British Cinema. There are also suggestions about further reading and viewing, together with five useful and informative appendices on film in nations ‘neglected’ elsewhere in the book (Australia and New Zealand, the Balkans, Canada, Hong Kong and Mexico). By deciding to examine the concept of national cinema with reference to Britain in his chapter on Film and Representation, Lacey does not ignore the representation of African Americans in US films – thanks to a box on Spike Lee! Once again he is able to clarify the extraordinarily 36 complex chain of involvement in a film which could claim to be British in terms of its cultural content but whose roots, in areas such as production and finance, can stretch far and wide. He traces the rising and falling undulations of British cinema through the decades, culminating in the current situation where some films do reflect our multicultural society (e.g. Bend It Like Beckham, 2002) but where the only recent recognisable genre cycle was the gangster films attempting to exploit the success of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998). He also cites the romantic comedies from PFE (the not-really British Polygram Filmed Entertainment) and Working Title – the two Bridget Jones movies (2001 and 2004) and Love Actually (2004), all three of which present a particular – and successful – view of Britain and the British to America. As to what, if any, ’imagined community’ is being offered by films to a larger audience, Lacey acknowledges the impossibility of an objective perspective (from those who are, by definition, subjective) being presented on the screen. This is a thought provoking chapter, all the better for avoiding glib conclusions while recognising that “cinema is the one medium that can directly communicate about nations to other countries” and that “studying one’s own cinema and that of others cannot but help in creating a dialogue between self and others”. Technology seems destined to be the ‘and finally . . .’ in most media contexts, from the key elements in Media Studies to the final chapter in this book – and, I confess, in my own personal priorities. That said, Lacey’s brief treatment encapsulates the key aspects and links them to their ‘aesthetic implications.’ There is also an extensive bibliography. Having overcome my initial aversion to those boxes and with just a passing regret that the stills from films are so disappointingly reproduced, more shades of grey than crisp black and white (the still from The Mexican (2001) on page 140 features a quite unrecognisable Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt apparently strolling through a dust storm), I have nothing but admiration for Nick Lacey’s book, his mixture of infectious enthusiasm and lightly worn erudition, his clear and uncluttered style, his original and idiosyncratic choice of examples, and his patent love of a medium so rich that, as he says, ‘we could spend a lifetime indulging ourselves in its grasp.’ If you teach film, study film or just love film – buy this book! Liz Roberts Hitchcock and 20th Century Cinema, John Orr, Wallflower Press, 2005, £16.99, 205 pp, ISBN 190476455x This book will, I believe, appeal to the Hitchcock academic fan and to adherents of an auteur approach to cinema. For myself, I had quite a few reservations. This is partly to do with the critical approach taken in the book. I think a reader’s response will vary according to their taste in this area. And their knowledge of critical writings on Hitchcock, besides the films that is, will affect how much they get out of the book. It is worth noting that John Orr considers Eric Rohmer and Claude Chabrol’s 1957 volume on Hitchcock, The First Forty-Four Films, as still the best text available. Ian Christie in Sight and Sound (January 2006) was impressed with Orr’s work and thought that: “A book as suggestive as this can only leave us asking for more”. The book is certainly informed by a knowledgeable scholarship of Hitchcock’s films and the wider cinematic context. It is also full of suggestive comments, references and comparisons. The discussions will, I think, prompt fertile ideas for Hitchcock study; both in writing about him and in class sessions devoted to his films. Orr studies both influences upon and influences by Hitchcock, though the latter predominates. There are chapters on Weimar Cinema, British film, Hollywood stars, the Nouvelle Vague and Film Noir and Neo-Noir. In each case there is a detailed commentary on one or more important films. There is also a productive study of other important filmmakers. Under Weimar Cinema Orr engages with both Fritz Lang and F. W. Murnau. The British Connection includes Daphne Du Maurier, Joseph Conrad and Graham Greene. (Yes, The Third Man is there). The Nouvelle Vague chapter has most of the famous names, but he pays attention not only to the obvious candidates like Truffaut and Chabrol, but also directors like Resnais and Rohmer. With Noir and Neo-Noir, Orr considers films from the classics of the 1940s and more recent examples like those of David Lynch. At different point he also fits in Wong KarWai and Christopher Nolan: filmmakers influenced by Hitchcock’s ‘sensibility’. The chapter on Hitchcock’s Actors deals with the films after his move to the USA’s film capital. This is a pretty original discussion. Orr works through some key Hollywood names, with special attention to Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman in Notorious, and to James Stewart with Grace Kelly in Rear Window. There are plenty of good ideas both about Hitchcock and Hollywood star acting. Orr tends to write about all these topics from the point of view of Hitchcock’s contribution. Quite often I felt there could be an equally convincing argument to be made about the wider influences, of genre, of the mores of the times, of other filmmakers, and of writers and composers. For example, there is an extended discussion of Daphne Du Maurier, a novelist who was the source for three of Hitchcock’s films. But there is nothing about Cornell Woolrich when he reaches Rear Window. And there are only three references to Bernard Herrmann, the great musical collaborator. Orr’s discussions could be treated as a selection of possible readings for Hitchcock films, and in this sense they are very stimulating. However, Orr himself claims a stronger status for them, frequently labelling an alternative view as ‘wrong’ and occasionally using the term ‘objective’. My most serious difference with his discourse is in an early chapter, which draws parallels between the Scottish philosopher David Hume, and Hitchcock’s films. Hume was an empiricist, media education journal 39 37 privileging the role of sense experience in human knowledge. Orr argues that: “His films always engage our sense of the senses.” He sees Hume’s approach (complex) in “Guesswork, inference, the vivacity of senseimpressions . . .” repeated in Hitchcock. This is clearly an interesting idea, but Orr is arguing philosophically. Like many writers on Hitchcock, he also brings into play the ideas of Sigmund Freud. Philosophically if Hume is a materialist then Freud is an idealist. There is a serious contradiction here which I think Orr does not resolve or explain. As I suggested earlier I think your response to this book will depend on where you stand with the competing theories and analyses on offer in Film Studies. Orr’s book is clearly a stimulating series of essays for lovers of Hitchcock the auteur. Keith Withall Reading Six Feet Under – TV To Die For For, Kim Akass and Janet McCabe (eds), I.B.Taurus 2005, £9.95, 249 pp, ISBN 1850438099 This review begins with something of a confession. Along with the DVDs of the first four series of Six Feet Under (and, yes, as soon as series 5 is available I intend to have it) replacing the tottering towers of VHS recordings of each episode as it was broadcast, I also media education journal 39 possess two volumes linked to the show: Six Feet Under, The Unofficial Guide (Paul Condon’s episode-by-episode guide to series 1 and 2 with an appendix on awards and nominations) and Six Feet Under, Better Living Through Death (an HBO/Channel 4 publication that purports to be a history of the Fisher family, complete with letters, photographs and other memorabilia). Lovely stuff for a fan but scarcely at the critical cutting edge; more tie-in and trivia than serious discussion of the ground-breaking television phenomenon that is Six Feet Under. Reading Six Feet Under does not, however, entirely eschew the visual appeal or humour of these more lightweight texts. The title of each part is inscribed on a dedication card tucked into funeral flowers and each essay has its author’s name engraved on a tombstone – just as Alan Ball’s name as Executive Producer appears in the opening credits of each episode. And none the worse for that, for this is the essential appeal of the book – it manages to combine the serious with the comic and ironic, just as its subject series does. For the uninitiated – and given its woefully inconsiderate scheduling by Channel 4 close to midnight (not to mention the latter’s decision to show series 5 on E4 only) this may include many MEJ readers – Six Feet Under focuses on the Fisher family, funeral directors in Los Angeles: widowed (and later remarried) matriarch Ruth, sons Nate and David, daughter Claire and their circle. So far, so predictable – a dysfunctional family, domestic drama with a touch of soap or even sit com, as some of its original detractors alleged. But, in truth, Six Feet Under is dark, complex, bold and original, casually subverting our expectations, callously dispatching a new character every week in order to bookend each episode, and taking viewers into what is arguably the only taboo area left in the 21st century – death and its immediate aftermath in the embalming room, the mortician trade and funerary rites. The Fisher’s home is also their work place and for them, unlike us, death is an acknowledged part of daily life – Claire even drives to school in an old hearse! Mourners view each week’s cadaver, rendered acceptable by the in-house embalmers, in the heart of the Fisher’s home and the everyday fabric of their lives, unlike ours, is interwoven with the contemporary rituals of death. Grim, yes, but blackly humorous too. The essays in this volume are grouped into five categories, each focused on particular aspects of the series: the first two are on death – ‘Memento Mori’ and ‘Mourning and Melancholia’; the next two about gender – the female subject and masculinities; and the last is on ‘Music and Melancholia’. Most of the contributors are academics but two of the most interesting and affecting essays are by nonacademics – the foreword by British journalist and broadcaster Mark Lawson and the epilogue by IrishAmerican writer and funeral director Thomas Lynch, each of whom casts his own particular light on the series. Lawson addresses its particular take on the taboo subject of death, dismissing the stylised approach adopted by crime and pathology series like Silent Witness, which use the corpses merely as incidental characters whose demise is somehow ‘conquered by the optimism of finding someone to blame in the final frame,’ and placing Six Feet Under (and other HBO series like Sopranos and Sex and the City) as genuinely innovative drama. According to Lawson, “In 20 years as a television critic, I have only rarely felt myself pulled forward on the sofa by the absolute shock of the new . . . But this feeling – that this programme has never happened before and cannot actually be happening now – has never affected me as strongly as while watching a press video of the pilot episode of Six Feet Under”. He also claims that the series has genuine political resonance, arguing that, in dressing up and presenting for public view their soon-to-rot corpses, the Fishers provide a sardonic commentary on the spin doctors of American politics, who are also “going ever deeper into deceit”, preventing TV coverage of the bodies of American soldiers being flown home from Iraq. At least Six Feet Under insists “on keeping the body in shot”! Lynch’s essay, ‘Playing in the deep end of the pool’, begins by drawing parallels between his real life and that of the fictional Fishers. “Like David,” he writes, “when my father died I embalmed him”. Lynch and Sons, funeral directors, are a family firm in Milford Michigan, while their television counterparts are based in LA. Although television fiction is not reality, Lynch argues that the “purposeful distortion” required by an entertainment medium allows viewers of Six Feet Under to see the truth, due in large part to Alan Ball’s “knack for getting sex and death, the good laugh and the Godawful, the ridiculous and sublime, in the same scenes”. As did Jessica Mitford in her American Way of Death (1963), Lynch takes us into his own experience of the ‘Godawful’ and the ridiculous in place of the sublime 38 – ‘visitation vignettes’ at the funeral home, from the stage arranged around ‘life symbols’, one of them looking “like a rainbow trout jumping from the corners of the casket” onwards (and downwards?) to ‘Big Mama’s Kitchen’ (don’t ask). Lynch sees himself in all this as “less the funeral director and more the memorial caddy . . . within a theatre that is neither sacred nor secular but increasingly absurd.’ What Lynch perceives as the series’ great strength is its insistence on dealing with the dead who are everywhere – it “puts the bodies back in funerals”. The Fishers themselves have to bury their own dead – father Nathaniel in the opening episode, Nate’s wife Lisa in series 4 (and Nate himself in series 5, which was broadcast after this volume). Instead of tidy metaphors, we are given ‘humanity – aching, uncertain, ragged and struggling, weeping and giggling at the awkward facts of life and facts of death.’ And that is why Lynch believes that Six Feet Under operates ‘in the deep end of the pool.’ One of the great strengths of this collection is that the editors have chosen contributors who have more than a formal academic connection with the issues addressed in their essays. While death is an overarching theme, each contributor seems to bring something of his or her own life and enthusiasms to the task. David Lavery’s opening essay, ‘It’s not television, it’s magic realism’, sees Six Feet Under as functioning in many registers, not the least of these being the grotesque - fanciful, mysterious, terrifying yet comic, the fantastic (hinting at a mystical interpretation of ritual events) and magic realism, mixing the real (life in the Fisher household, school, church, work) with the supernatural (ghosts, talking corpses and the ever re-appearing Nathaniel Fisher) - a ‘plurality of worlds’ beyond our own. Mark W Bundy’s essay, ‘Exquisite corpse’, combines much of the intimate and the personal, including his own illnesses which forced him to face his own sense of mortality and his work as a pharmacist (on the graveyard shift – a sense of black humour here!), with an identification of Six Feet Under as representing the ‘New American Gothic’ - ‘a contemporary culture where the living and the dead are both separate and together at the same time.’ Other contributions in the first two parts focus on related topics: the pornography of the morbid, death and transformation, other aspects of American Gothic, gay mourning in contemporary America – all seen through the prism of Six Feet Under and none overstretching the links with the series. Although the funeral business is the archetypal Fisher and Sons, the female characters have a central role in the series, none more so than Ruth, who (as Kim Akass argues) is far more than ‘just another smother mother.’ Even before her husband’s death, Ruth has broken free from the conventional wife/mother chains to have an affair with Hiram the hairdresser and, as a widow, she ‘forces her children to grow up’ by acknowledging their mother’s sexuality. But Ruth is complex, maintaining a precarious balance between her Madonna persona (the idealised mother) and the old Eve (aggressive sexuality, albeit with the unacknowledged contribution of David’s ecstasy pills, which she thinks are aspirin!) The other key females in Six Feet Under are given equally favoured space. Within their respective narratives, Claire the wouldbe artist strives to find a ‘unique voice’, while Brenda works through her own issues of identity to find her ‘real’ self. A father and his sons has provided the basis for many great American dramas, from plays like Miller’s Death of a Salesman and All My Sons to films like Coppola’s Godfather. Although the father in Six Feet Under is killed within minutes of the start of the pilot episode , his is a pivotal dramatic role in exploring the ties that bind fathers to sons and brother to brother. The first essay in part 4, ‘Fisher’s sons’, is particularly enlightening about David’s move to head of the family over the course of the first three series. It is he who provides the focus of the following essay, ‘Queering the church’, while in ‘Revisiting the closet’ Claire’s boyfriend Russell, who has still to come out, is compared with David who, despite his family’s lack of insight, always knew he was gay. Tacked on, almost as an afterthought, is an excellent essay, ‘I’m dead, wow, cool’, which made me realise how incurious and uncritical I had been about the music of Six Feet Under and its filmic and historical pedigree. Is this a volume only for the dedicated viewer? Certainly, the resonance of having watched every episode makes for more enlightened and enlightening reading, but for those who read the book first and subsequently want to see Six Feet Under for themselves, I have a stack of used tapes, only some of which have been recorded over – and the DVDs are widely available. Liz Roberts Subjects and Sequences: A Margaret Tait Reader Reader, Peter Todd and Benjamin Cook (eds), 2005, LUX £15.00, 184 pp, ISBN 0954856902 Filmmaker and writer Margaret Tait died in Orkney on 16 April 1999. Soon afterwards her husband, Alex Pirie, deposited with the Scottish Film Archive all the film materials gathered in Orquil Studio, Orkney, since she made the former church her workplace in 1984. These included some 150 reels of 16 mm film in rusting cans. This begins the story told by Janet McBain and Alan Russell of the Scottish Screen Archive in A Margaret Tait Reader. ‘Preserving the Margaret Tait Film Collection’ places Tait in the context of Scottish film culture, stressing her independence outwith the centres of cultural activity, the structures of the film industry and the tradition of the ‘factual’ in filmmaking. It is a moving story of painstaking discovery which describes the range of problems affecting the collection and the challenges and dilemmas in restoring the films (from which a fine selection of stills is used to illustrate the Reader). The difficulties were compounded by the condition of the original negatives. Anxious about losing material, Tait had these returned to her own studio rather than storing them in the film laboratory vaults. That caution may seem paradoxical now, but Alex Pirie’s insight is illuminating: “Margaret . . . worked in the present, making films which she regarded as artefacts belonging to the time in which they were made. She knew the value of her works and wanted them to be shown as media education journal 39 39 widely as possible. But . . . ‘posterity’ was something she gave little thought to.” The importance to Tait of the details and significance of the present moment is further revealed in artist and writer Lucy Reynolds’ descriptive analysis of the films in ‘Margaret Tait: the marks of time’. And in ‘Where I am is here: a patchwork for Margaret Tait’, Gareth Evans (director of LUX) ‘stalks’ the essence of Tait’s work, trawling the writing of artists (including Tait) for ideas which might inform an understanding of her work. He reflects on the words ‘Blue Black Permanent’ (the title of Tait’s only feature film) and the idea she explored that nothing is fixed or finally defined. Here he includes a fragment from Mexican poet Octavio Paz: “Memory is a present which never stops going past.” He also quotes tellingly from Tait’s poem, ‘Now’: The thing about poetry is you have to keep doing it. People have to keep making it. The old stuff is no use. Once it’s old. As with poetry, so with film. And with all art. People have to keep making it. Some might demur at Tait’s assertion that the old stuff is no use. In ‘The Margaret Tait Years’, writer Ali Smith contributes an illuminating examination of the films but also points to her work as a writer. Why, she begins, were there no poems by Tait in the “most definitive so far” volume of Modern Scottish Women Poets? And why are so few people who are well read in Scottish literature aware of her work? She goes on, regretfully, to media education journal 39 ‘Place of Work’ by Margaret Tait answer: “Because things slip away from us all the time” and because, “women artists do tend, historically, to . . . fall off the back of the canonical.” But the answer also lies, Ali Smith says, in the sort of artist Tait was. As with the films, she published the poems in her own individual and uncompromising way. Subjects and Sequences, The Hen and the Bees and Objects and Elements were published independently in 1959 and 1960. (Pleasingly, the covers of the three poetry collections and two short story collections are reproduced in the Reader.) The collections were not widely distributed and they were ignored by critics. It is hard to see Tait the writer as an influential voice – but there seems little question that in her poems as in her films she was, as Ali Smith asserts, ahead of her time, “a far sight.” Peter Todd and Sarah Wood include poems from each of Tait’s collections in the Reader. They are characterised by the directness and intimacy of their speaking voice; a discursive and exploratory style; indignation at the constraints on women and the muffling of their voices; the insistence on observation as essential to living fully. For many years Peter Todd (an independent filmmaker and programmer himself) has worked to ensure that the films of Margaret Tait are preserved and screened in this country and abroad. As editors of A Margaret Tait Reader he and Benjamin Cook (director of LUX) have offered a rich and fascinating overview of Tait as filmmaker, poet, film poet and artist which should invite a wider audience to read both her films and her poems. The inclusion of excerpts selected by David Curtis from interviews given by Margaret Tait for BBC Scotland and Channel 4; the chronology of Tait’s life; the filmography and list of documentary resources offer starting points for further study. The work on restoring the films continues and perhaps one day, as Ali Smith and Peter Todd hope, a Collected Poems will be published. Yvonne Gray English teacher and poet, Stromness, Orkney Documentary: The Margins of Reality Reality, Paul Ward, Wallflower Press, 2005, £12.99, 144 pp, ISBN 1904764592 Paul Ward’s book states in its introduction that the aim of Documentary: The Margins of Reality is to “give a brief introduction to and overview of some of the key features, moments and theoretical debates of its subject matter, documentary.” This short and largely accessible work achieves this aim but provides much more for the student or teacher of Media Studies to consider. Although this work is largely evidenced through well known and contemporary film and television, some of the more 40 complex issues raised in later parts of the study rely upon rather more obscure or marginalised texts to further the discussion. This is both a strength and a weakness as, for use in the classroom, the source texts may prove difficult for the teacher or student to locate and study in detail. That said, the strength of this approach is that the book does indeed study ‘the margins of reality’ and, through looking critically at texts which have pushed definitions and boundaries, raises many wide ranging and intriguing questions on the evolution of the documentary at the start of the 21st century. This involves discussion of documentary not only as a mode or genre, but also as it is decoded by increasingly media-literate audiences, as well as the political nature inherent in the construction of any text whose purpose it is to interpret some aspect of reality in a creative way. Divided into five helpful (though arguably somewhat arbitrary) chapters the study begins conventionally with Grierson’s dictum (that documentary is the “creative interpretation of reality”) before moving on, in chapter 1 to raise many of the difficult issues which surround the categorising of any text as ‘documentary’. This chapter provides a valuable way into the discussion for both student and teacher alike though the language is, as in the rest of the study, most appropriate for students at Higher or above. Of particular interest was the section which seeks to explain Bill Nichols’ documentary ‘modes’, which should provide students with a more effective means by which to categorise a documentary text; indeed the main point raised here is that it is in the very tension and difficulty of definition that the most interesting study of documentary can be found. In chapter 2 Ward turns his attention to the idea which underpins this study – what is fiction and what is non fiction, and is there a clear distinction to be made? Starting with Samuel Johnson’s “seldom any splendid story is wholly true”, this chapter ably demonstrates the truth in this statement. Further it gives the reader a clear insight into the blurred lines which, in all ‘non fiction’ texts, divide (or as is argued do not divide) the fictional from the real. It is at its most convincing in the case study of the various texts which deal with the Aileen Wournos story. Chapter 3 takes a close look at the issues surrounding the historical documentary and argues that this sub-genre has a vital role in the expression and understanding of our history both political and social. Once again however the problems discussed in chapters 1 and 2 are clear – that any version of a story is, in the act of telling, subject to some form of fictionalising, be it in the act of production or in the act of receiving. That this is often a political and deliberate act is clearly argued and the reader is convinced through engaging case studies of, amongst other texts, ‘The Battle of Orgreave’. In one of the bolder sections of this book, chapter 4 discusses the increasingly used, though no less controversial, binding together of the seemingly opposed modes of comedy and documentary. Again, through close examination of contemporary texts, such as Brass Eye, The Office and The Mark Steel Lectures, Ward’s book ably demonstrates both the potential for comedy modes to be used in documentary to creatively interpret reality and reveal truths, as well as the potential for documentary modes in constructing thought provoking comedy which also creatively interprets reality and reveals truths. Chapter 5 turns its attention to the use of animation in documentary and the reader will not be surprised by this stage to be persuaded that, although these modes appear to be diametrically opposed, Ward is right to assert that animation is every bit as capable of creatively treating actuality as live action. Though Ward accepts that audiences are inclined to view live action in documentary as somehow indexically ‘true’, he argues convincingly that there are some actualities – the actuality of autism, blindness etc. – which cannot be represented through live action. Again this contention is explored through a wide range of texts, some more accessible than others. Paul Ward’s book is a welcome addition to the debate surrounding the growing field of documentary. It provides an interesting history of the genre in conventional terms as well as a fascinating exploration of the ever widening canon of texts which broadly owe much of their construction to documentary modes. This study will be of interest to any teacher who wishes to further their knowledge and ability to explain documentary to students of film and television. Martin Cairns Broughton High School Edinburgh Radio in Context Context, Guy Starkey, Palgrave 2004, £16.99, 272 pp, ISBN 140390023X Community Radio Toolkit Toolkit, Ally Fogg, Phil Korbel, Cathy Brooks, Radio Regen £20.00 large format, spiral bound book, 212 pp ISBN 0955170702 (order from www.radioregen.org) As far as broadcasting is concerned, more people throughout the world listen to radio than watch television. Indeed there is a strong case for arguing that broadcast television is no longer a ‘service’ but merely one of a myriad of platforms for visual programme provision. Yet in schools, radio, a more fundamental form of communication, is rarely studied to the same extent as its visual partner. There are many reasons for this. Firstly it is not as ‘sexy’ a subject to attract students and both schools and colleges want bums on seats to justify their financing. What is more important, however, is that there is little resource material and the teacher can be far less neutral than in the delivery of other subjects. Taking this second aspect first, there is the ‘shibboleth’ versus ‘sibboleth’ coding. We define whom we are, ‘One of us’, much more by how we sound than how we look. It can easily be argued that sound is the basic form of communication. Yet even media education journal 39 41 the Radio Studies Network pays scant attention. It is regrettably unlikely that only a minute minority of schools and colleges will find a space in the schedules for any such modules. Still hope does spring eternal. One problem for textbooks is that they are bound to be out of date by the time they become available, with even fairly recent books omitting to refer to concepts such as Ofcom and ‘G3’. So, if there can be few textbooks on the nature of radio and its platforms, what is available for the teacher? There are resources but they take time and money – attendance at a number of symposia and conferences. There is a paradox here. It is easier to teach structure and organisation than to teach content, let alone doing much practical programme making. (Again for practical work equipment soon becomes out of date - Minidisc, CD, DVD and microphones.) There is, too, a paradox in that the less subjective subjects quickly become out of date whilst the more emotive and creative subjects are long lasting. For instance one of the best books on radio drama by Gordon Lea was published in 1926 and is now very rare and extremely expensive. So too is Donald McWhinnie’s The Art of Radio dating from 1959. Another problem is that modules tend to exist in closed boxes. There is rarely a holistic approach. One of the class exercises valid for students from ten to twentyfive that the present writer uses is based on Edwin Morgan’s poem ‘Canedolia’. It is not only an excellent way of teaching microphone usage and timing, but also involves a knowledge of Scottish Geography and Gaelic traditions. media education journal 39 All is not despair, however, for anyone still interested in teaching a radio/sound module. Guy Starkey’s Radio in Context is far and away the best book of its kind to have appeared for many a year. The writing is good and clear, the exercises ‘do-able’ and pertinent. May any would-be teachers of radio be brave; do it but have Guy Starkey’s book to hand! Community Radio Toolkit is a rather sumptuously produced book and as far as its primary aim is concerned it is most effective and informative. It would, however, be only marginally of use for the teaching of any of the relatively few radio courses for schools. Whilst acknowledging that in today’s world most teachers have a decreasing amount of time for extra-curricular activities this volume would be of considerable value for anyone considering establishing a school radio club. This volume, whilst it would be of value as an informed background to some existing radio courses, has considerably greater value. A school radio club/ station has a very wide range of values. It need not be expensive. It can mount short-term restricted service licenses. It can positively involve aspects of studies in music, literature, current affairs, history and community involvement and for all concerned can be fun. Further programmes may be recorded and exchanged with others, or, when it is possible, put on the net. The present reviewer admits to a certain bias, but a school group running its own radio society can, in a variation of Lord Reith’s phrase “Learn, contribute and enjoy”, and this book would be an excellent aid in such an enterprise. John Gray Studying Gladiator Gladiator, Sandy Irvine, Auteur 2005, £15.99, A4, 80 pp ISBN 1903663571 `Win the crowd` (Proximo in Gladiator Gladiator) Each chapter in this book by Sandy Irvine starts off with a tagline. Most are appropriate. I also think that with teachers of Media Studies this textbook will do the same. Auteur is a relatively new publisher but already it has a fairly substantial back catalogue of media text books. In common with another reviewer of their previous publications I can say that this particular book is “stimulating, learned, useful for teachers – and above all it makes you laugh!” Well, forget the last bit! Anyway three out of four is not bad. The author, Sandy Irvine, shows not only a considerable knowledge of the film itself but also places it in context with the key developments in the entrepreneurial aspects of the film industry, both in terms of institutional contexts and advances in technology but also in terms of audience expectation and the current trends in popular culture. The book is set out clearly with the introduction giving `teaser trailers` as to what is to follow. The idea of reviving an old and somewhat forgotten film genre is explained and linked to the future development of the genre post-Gladiator. The position of technology, especially CGI, is identified as is the concept of auteur theory. At the end of the introduction reference is made to the political and social discourses which this film purports to address, just in case anyone is inclined to miss them. All the key aspects required for the Scottish curriculum are catered for, although some ferreting out is required. The author puts all the main features of the film – finance for example – into detailed contexts. The role of Universal Vivendi is explained along with its tieup with Dreamworks, Scott Free and Mill Films, but also clear exemplification points us to an explanation of the complex nature of film finance and ownership with detailed breakdowns of how Dreamworks is financed and operates. This is a characteristic technique employed by Irvine for each of the key aspects. However, the book is not a quick fix for Intermediate 1 and 2 classes. The language is complex and the ideas are somewhat involved. Often there is a carryover of aspect from one chapter to another. This is not a fault – but it does make the book very challenging for less well motivated and informed students. The physical page layout, with a section at 42 the bottom of each page, is very useful for those cryptic notes that teachers like to make. Goodness knows what graffiti might be found from students. The idea of the classroom worksheets at the end of the book is also a bonus but they do require to be tweaked to suit local conditions. Overall this is a very useful textbook for teaching staff and for senior pupils at AH or Higher. The major bonus is that this text opens up another genre for use in teaching media studies. Whilst it cannot be claimed that the film is particularly deep in the metaphysical sense it does have the advantage of being a `cracking good yarn` which classes do enjoy. Keith Thomas St Columba’s High School, Dunfermline Alternatives to Hollywood: A Teacher’s Guide, Sarah Perks, Isabelle Vanderschelden and Andrew Willis, Auteur 2005, £16.95, 150pp A5, ISBN 1903663253 This is a useful volume, with some good materials and discussion of areas of increasing interest for Film and Media Studies teachers. However, I feel that the subject area is somewhat problematic. The volume defines its territory as French, East Asian and Indian Cinemas. These are clearly alternatives to Hollywood. However, the back cover suggests something called ‘nonAnglo-American cinema’. I don’t think ‘AngloAmerican’ is a very helpful way of defining several areas of cinema. There are UK films which rely on Hollywood funding and industry muscle. But there are also films that compete with and differ strongly from the USA mainstream model. Plus, Hollywood is not the USA, and the USA is not America, just one among over 20 states in two continents. The same contradictions bedevil the alternatives discussed here. There is a long way between French cinema and Bollywood: and also as much distance between Bollywood and the political Parallel cinema included in one section. And it is not only the ‘alternatives’ that needs to be clarified: important concepts in the book are Auteur, New Waves, and Art Cinema. All three have developed multiple meanings and their terrain becomes extended year by year. Whilst the volume does address the underlying conceptual questions I found the treatment uneven. I would hope teachers recognise the need for these issues to be addressed in such studies. At a more practical level the three essays in the book do offer information, analysis and comment on particular cinemas. They add to these useful sets of possible study questions: filmographies and DV/ Video availability, and bibliographies. I found the French section’s introduction the weakest, partly because it tries to cover so much ground; the historical overview was too brief to be informative. The section is on stronger ground with its detailed discussions of the French New Wave and François Truffaut’s Les Quatre Cent Coups (The 400 Blows, 1959). The ‘Film du look’ and that recent success Amélie follow this. These sections are strongly informed by the idea of the ‘auteur’. The case study includes discussion of ‘key scenes’, a device repeated in the other essays. Such an approach should be useful both for teachers and students tackling the films. The East Asian New Wave Cinema covers Japan, China, Hong Kong and South Korea. However, only the last three are discussed with detailed case studies. I think the omission of a section on Japanese film, so influential in the region, is a mistake. The overviews are informative and the connections between these dominant cinemas in the area are drawn out. The choices of study films are very recent: Chungking Express (Hong Kong 1994, a predictable choice), Suzhou River (China 2002), and Take Care of My Cat (South Korea 2001). It is worth noting that a few years ago there was a project to tour a selection of films from North Korea. The package never materialised. This is sad, as those films offer much more than stereotypical ‘socialist realist propaganda’. Forever in Our Memory (1999) has the exuberant motifs and mise en scene of a musical as army and peasants battle to dam a flood that threatens the harvest. The Indian section concentrates on Hindi and Bengali cinema. The former details the Bombay or ‘Bollywood’ industry. The latter Satyajit Ray and Mrinal Sen. Among the detailed case studies is Monsoon Wedding (2002, also discussed in detail in MEJ Issue 33). There are also discussions of recent popular successes such as Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham and Mohabbatein (2000). These films circulate in the UK, not only in alternative venues but also increasingly in the multiplexes. And they turn up on Channel Four’s regular Bollywood seasons. Overall the essays are rather self-contained. I thought the book could have offered more crossreferencing between the studies, both in terms of concepts and in the relationship between filmmakers. For example, the influence of the French New Wave in India and Hong Kong could relate to both sets of materials. This would also help address the ambiguities associated with the key concepts treated in the book. The three essays, but especially East Asian and Indian, will be found really helpful by teachers tackling those films and industries, especially if they are not too familiar with them. It should be said that there are not that many resources available on the Asian cinemas. And the film case studies are up-to-date; your students will remember them, if they have seen them. I also think they are likely to have enjoyed them. Keith Withall Children’s Comics: A Teacher’s Guide, Wendy Helsby, Auteur 2005, £14.99, 110pp (A5), ISBN 1903663202 Classroom Resources, £22.50, 68pp (A4) In addition to Children’s Comics, Wendy Helsby has written a number of Media Studies books (Language Puzzles, Scholastic 1993, Teaching African Cinema bfi 1998, Teaching Television Advertising, Auteur, 2004, Understanding Representation, bfi, 2005). She has had experience of teaching a wide range of age groups including primary school pupils, higher education students as well as presenting INSET media education journal 39 43 for teachers and lecturers. The Children’s Comics pack invites the teacher to: “. . . enter the world of Batman, Dennis the Menace, the Four Mary’s (sic), Spider-Man and others; collect your free spidey glider and read on to meet the jampacked, web spinning, wall-crawling action.” Children’s Comics comes as two separate booklets, a teacher’s guide and a set of related classroom resources. The teacher’s guide begins with a short history and goes on to apply theories of language, institutions, audience and representation, to the analysis of comics. The guide includes a glossary, a selected website list and a bibliography. The classroom resources, consisting of worksheets and practical classroom exercises of varying difficulty, relate directly to the chapters of the teacher’s guide. The resources are stimulating and would be suitable for senior school pupils or college students. The spirally bound materials are attractive to look at, handle well and are clearly laid out. The short history section packs a great deal of information into eleven small (A5) pages. Sufficient information is provided for the teacher approaching comics for the first time. Indeed there is sufficient information in the pack for an entire Media Studies introductory course using comics as the object of analysis. Each subsequent chapter begins with a thorough account of the analytical theory being employed. Accordingly, the chapter on language includes an explanation of how the term is interpreted in Media Studies as well as a comprehensive analysis of the specific language of the comic. This covers elements such as semiotics, graphics and typography, narrative and genre. Helsby goes on to look at the marketing of comics and the effects of changes in the means of production and in the next chapter sets out to look at censorship and regulation. Comics were (are?) regulated and censored in much the same way as films. Whereas filmmakers found ways to subvert the regulations and maintain their audiences, this was not the case with comics – and their sales declined. ‘Popular Culture and Audience’ form the subjects of the next chapter and, as in previous chapters, there is an initial definition of the terms followed by a discussion of popular culture and the debates surrounding it. Next, Helsby defines the term ‘representation’ and applies the theory to representations of (mainly) women and racial types. In the penultimate chapter, ‘Superheroes and Naughty Kids’ she begins by offering a ‘superhero lexicon’ which demonstrates the defining elements of a superhero. This is followed by the section on ‘naughty kids’ as personified by Dennis the Menace and Beryl the Peril. The author’s enthusiasm for children’s comics is confirmed in the closing words of her concluding chapter: “I hope that children will be able to curl up by a tree, on a step, under the bedclothes with their own favourite comic into the foreseeable future and enter that special corner of children’s literature”. Membership of AMES, the Association for Media Education in Scotland, will enable you to have a say in the future direction of media education in Scotland. AMES is the subject association for media studies and related disciplines in the Scottish education system. AMES has been strong and successful because it has actively involved teachers from all education sectors in the varied aspects of its work. media education journal 39 I have a few reservations about the pack. The work would definitely benefit from more rigorous proof reading. There are a few typos – some of which actually generate misinformation – and the inconsistency of word spacing becomes distracting after a while. The tone of the teacher’s guide is variable and I have the impression that it has been adapted from a larger academic work – and the adaptation is not entirely seamless. Formal theoretical terminology sits uncomfortably alongside informal and occasionally repetitive language. Sections of analysis sometimes seem to be addressing an experienced, adult audience while at others are pitched at the Media Studies ‘virgin’– who is either very young or very old! There is much of value to be drawn from Children’s Comics for the teacher or lecturer – particularly one who shares the author’s enthusiasm. By raising the key historical and political issues surrounding comics, Helsby offers students the opportunity of discussing and understanding the wider issues of Media Studies. Tina Stockman Harlaw Academy, Aberdeen Annual Membership (the fee is tax deductible) Personal: £20.00 Institution: £35.00 AMES is active in lobbying and negotiating with education planners at all levels in Scotland. Members of AMES receive FREE copies of MEJ and the AMES newsletter. Enquiries about membership should be addressed to: Des Murphy (Secretary AMES) 24 Burnett Place ABERDEEN AB24 4QD email: [email protected] mej Extra copies of the current journal and issue 38 are available at £8.00 per copy. We also have back copies of earlier issues at £2.00 per copy. The complete set covers more than 20 years of debate, theory and practice. See page 26 for details and page 43 for AMES contact address.