Melodrama Screening and Discussion, 3rd of April, 5-7pm, Jarman 6

All are very welcome to join us for the last of this term’s screening and discussion sessions. We will be showing The Mirror Crack’d (1980, Guy Hamilton, 105 mins).

This big-budget adaptation of Agatha Christie’s 1962 novel The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side stars Angela Lansbury as dogged detective Miss Marple. Hollywood’s ultimate star Elizabeth Taylor plays Hollywood diva Marina Gregg and Rock Hudson is her director husband Jason Rudd. While staying at an old mansion during filming in the UK, Marina finds herself threatened by anonymous letters, attempted poisonings and her own past…

Do join us, if you can, for some classic Christie.

Also, you can catch up with the recent ITV version, starring Julia McKenzie as Miss Marple, until the 2nd of April here: http://www.itv.com/hub/miss-marple/1a5576a0009

 

Summary of Discussion on The Devil’s Vice

Our discussion on The Devil’s Vice included comments on: its Gothic elements; references to other Gothic films; Richard’s ‘Gaslighting’ of Susan; the audience’s genre expectations; the audience’s alignment with Susan; Richard and Susan’s relationship in terms of control and isolation and Susan’s realisation that Richard is her abuser; the role of technology; the film’s contemporary setting; the film’s purpose of the promotion of awareness of domestic abuse and the relation of this to the Gothic.

Like last session’s The Diary of Sophronia Winters, The Devil’s Vice contained a checklist of gothic elements. The opening shots of Susan, as a woman-in-peril, falling through the space from the top of the stairs onto the hard floor beneath emphasises the importance of the house. This is where much of the film’s events take place (the only other settings are a hospital, a  local library, a coffee shop and a police station), with its two staircases also playing prominent roles. Other aspects of the house are significant: there is a mirror on the stairs, several locked doors, focus on a keyhole, creepy portraits (specifically an old black and white formal photograph of a group of children and their schoolteacher, nicknamed ‘Smiler’ by Susan and Richard and seen as a demon), bats in the attic (and later in reference to this a comparison to Dracula’s house) and a disturbing doll in the no-longer needed nursery. In addition to Susan’s status as woman-in-peril she, like many other gothic heroines, is an active investigator who is seeking an answer to what is happening – and engages in the often-present action of walking down the stairs in her nightwear. In keeping with the contemporary setting, Susan is clad in pyjamas rather than a nightdress, and lacks a candlestick to light her way.

More specific references to gothic and horror films abound. The spiral staircase invokes memory of Robert Siodmak’s 1945 film. Susan’s research into the possible presence of a poltergeist summons up thoughts of Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist (1982), and her misleading suggestion that they call in a catholic priest brought to mind William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973). Other points of plot similarity to gothic films include the pain of child loss (in J.A. Bayona’s The Orphanage, 2007) and concern for Susan expressed by her husband Richard to his wife’s friend (Douglas Sirk’s Sleep My Love, 1948). Aspects of The Devil’s Vice’s style also appeared to be referencing other films: the black and white footage of Richard’s attack on Susan was likened to scenes in Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity (2009).

Smaller moments also inspired comparisons. The appearance of the sunglass and strange oculist equipment-wearing medium, Madam Barbara, reminded us of Insidious (James Wan, 2010). Shots of Susan painfully and slowly crawling across the floor after being attacked in the kitchen were similar to Michelle Pfeiffer’s attempts to escape her husband in Robert Zemecki’s What Lies Beneath (2000)Richard’s sing-song taunting while addressing Susan by her name as she’s attempting to find proof of his attacks echoed that in The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980). The colour red also gains significance when Richard is about to repaint the no longer needed nursery in a blood red hue; when combined with The Devil’s Vice’s concern with children and the occult, this made us think of Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968).

We also brought in our own knowledge of other gothic texts and films. Particular attention was paid to Susan’s moment of realisation that her husband is her attacker. This occurs in the office as she watches footage form the cameras she has placed in the kitchen. It was noted that this pivot is in some ways is akin to Bluebeard’s eight wife entering the secret room which contains the bodies of his previous wives.  Such a device was also used in Fritz Lang’s Secret Beyond the Door (1947) when Celia (Joan Bennett) uncovers her husband’s secret.

The film’s self-aware drawing on of other gothic texts is probably most obvious in its use of Gaslighting.  The term comes from Patrick Hamilton’s 1938 play Gaslight (notably filmed in the UK by Thorold Dickinson in 1940 and the US by George Cukor in 1944) in which a husband attempts to make his wife think  she is going mad and thus gain control of her fortune. In The Devil’s Vice, Richard engages in such behaviour by placing the creepy photograph in their home. Susan later doubts herself when she remembers that the schoolteacher’s eyes in the photographs have always been closed while Richard insists the opposite is the case.  (He has presumably used digital alteration to support his position, since the audience agrees with Susan.)  Not all Richard’s manipulations are as clear-cut. His suggestion that Susan research the history of the house seems less than helpful, while his subtle undermining of Susan to her friend Helen and the hospital doctor includes him planting the idea that Susan harms herself.  We even wondered if the anti-depressants in Susan’s system were only present because Richard was drugging her in order to undermine her at this point.

Much of this is only seen in retrospect, once it is revealed that Richard is an abuser. This is also true of the way in which Madam Barbara’s ambiguous warning to Susan that ‘he’ will kill her, and that she should leave the house, becomes reframed as a clear denouncement of Richard. Similarly, Susan’s friend Helen asking Susan if she has received the messages she gave to Richard, and indeed her straight forward question of whether Richard is hurting Susan, are afforded extra significance. The oddness of the latter was made more apparent when we considered it later – Helen would hardly have asked this unless she was already concerned.  Some of us suspected Richard early on; he seemed too perfect and his ever-ready smile caused us to make connections with ‘Smiler’ in the photograph. In addition, we are familiar with Gothic tropes, and in the gothic the husband is often the perpetrator. Yet like Susan, who is clearly also aware of some of the horror tropes present (she researches the Occult, knows about poltergeists and considers calling in a catholic priest for an exorcism) others in the group, despite their awareness of the related matter of the gothic, only realised later.  It was knowledge of horror films which led to this. It occurred just after Richard claimed he had been attacked by the demon – while the woman often sees the demon in horror films, this is far less true of the man.

The delayed realisation reveals the success of the film’s attempt to align us with Susan. We spend most of our time with Susan, with Richard’s life away from the house little commented on – we just see him in his pinstripe shirt and suit, setting off for an undemanding day at work. Our alignment is not just in terms of sympathy, but in point of view. This is not strictly literal, but significantly we, like Susan do not physically see her attacker until the camera footage is screened. This means the revelation is indeed a plot twist for some of the audience.

We further pondered Susan and Richard’s relationship, speculating on how long they had been together and when the abuse started. Susan seems highly conditioned to her situation, accepting Richard’s control and her isolation without question. Oddly many of us also accepted Susan’s isolation until considering it more after the screening. In addition to the earlier mention that Richard has isolated Susan from Helen, we found it troubling that she had no friends or family to turn to – even by telephone. The house, in which Susan spends the majority of her time, is also physically isolated – with Richard using the couple’s one car to go to work every day. Some of us even credited Richard with more control than he possessed by wondering if he planted the card for Madam Barbara in the library book on the Occult. What happened during her visit discounted this theory, since Madam Barbara does not reinforce Richard’s ideas on the presence of demons. While Richard has not arranged the Madam Barbara’s appearance, she nonetheless seems frightened of him too since she leaves after giving only an ambiguous warning to Susan, and does not return to check on Susan.

Instead, Susan takes the matter into her own hands. She escalates the situation with Richard by goading the ‘demon’ until he attacks her – in full view of the cameras in the kitchen. Susan is prompted to take this action after ‘Smiler’ has apparently attacked Richard. The couple sits in the car, with Susan at the wheel, ready to drive them both away from the danger in the house. She is stopped by Richard, who asserts that Susan will never be able to escape from the demon, who he claims is feeding off the guilt she feels at losing her unborn children. This argument is illogical since Susan’s miscarriage occurred when she was attacked (seemingly by the demon). Susan does not question Richard’s logic.  It is only after Susan sees the visual evidence from the cameras that the two parts of her brain which have previously been dissociated, join together, and she sees Richard as her abuser.

The consequences of this realisation are grim for Susan. Richard hits her over the head with the laptop on which she has been viewing the camera footage. We wondered if perhaps a similar realisation had prompted the attack at the start of the film. It is also possible that Richard deliberately timed it so that causing the loss of her babies would further punish Susan, make her more vulnerable, and place her more fully in his control. Sadly it is the case that an abuser never needs a reason to abuse. The morning after Susan’s discovery, Richard seems a little wary of her. Susan is especially forceful in her squashing of sausages in the frying pan, perhaps causing him, like us, to wonder if he was about to be attacked with this most domestic of weapons. He is right to be concerned. Although Richard foolishly takes at face value Susan’s suggestion they consult a catholic priest, she finally finds proof of his abuse (courtesy of the camera she placed in the fruit bowl which she has previously overlooked)  and leaves him.

Symbolically Susan leaves behind her rather ostentatious engagement/wedding ring. Susan and Richard are obviously comfortably off; they rent or own a large house, have a four wheel drive car, neither is overworked, and Susan can spend several hundred pounds on her investigations without blinking. The ring is another sign of this wealth. It is also indicative of something else though. A member of the group was reminded of the Adrienne Rich poem ‘Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers’. This discusses the ‘massive weight of Uncle’s wedding band’ on Aunt Jennifer’s hand and references imperialism and the oppression of women by men. (You can find the full poem here: http://writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88v/rich-jennifer-tiger.html)  As with The Yellow Wallpaper and The Diary of Sophronia Winters, patriarchy is signalled to be damaging, and women are advised to avoid marriage.

Susan, with the help of technology, manages to extricate herself from her situation. Seeing film footage of Richard attacking her is what makes Susan see the truth, and also provides proof for the police. Susan was also able to access this technology via other technology – she orders the cameras over the internet she perhaps surprisingly has some access to. Technology is not wholly positive, however, since Richard uses it to physically attack Susan.

Such instances of technology clearly place the film in the modern day. The modern is also reflected in the decoration of the central aspect of the house. While it has Gothic elements (an almost church-like appearance, especially evident in its windows) the interior is stylish and modern. The fact it is largely functional also suggests emptiness. There seem to be few personal items, with the main photograph that of a group of children and their schoolteacher. While some Gothic films are set in contemporary times (notably Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940), Secret Beyond the Door, and Bryan Forbes’ The Stepford Wives (1975)), more often they take place in the past (Gaslight, The Spiral Staircase, Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Dragonwyck (1946) and Jack Clayton’s The Innocents (1961).

Setting films in the past provides the audience with distance from the narrative, to allow them to deny the relevance of the gothic (and its disturbing overtones) to the present day. By contrast, The Devil’s Vice is set in contemporary times since social documentary and feature film maker Peter Watkins-Hughes’ main remit was to raise awareness of domestic abuse and to encourage people to seek help.  It was released at the time Clare’s Law –the Domestic Violence Disclosure Scheme was rolled out across the UK. The law allows people with concerns to make enquiries about a partner. You can find out more on the film’s website: http://www.thedevilsvice.org.uk/

We thought that the film was very effective in using its small cast of fewer than ten, limited running time and few locations. These all added to the sense of constraint. However, the tone was occasionally uneven (especially in Helen’s visit to the house seemingly being played for a little comedy), and we found Susan’s desire to return to home a bit unbelievable. Regardless of how much Susan is being controlled, she has suffered not just terrible physical trauma but the emotional effect of losing her unborn babies. This is dealt with quickly. While the focus on extreme physical violence is understandable in terms of seeing what is already in plain sight, it underplays the significance of the more subtle ways people abuse others. Since the film’s release, the matter of coercive control has also been more discussed, and indeed in March 2015  was included in the Serious Crime Act https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/482528/Controlling_or_coercive_behaviour_-_statutory_guidance.pdf)

But the film did raise our awareness in making the connection between Gothic heroines and domestic abuse – whether physical, emotional, or both. This crystallised for us the continuing relevance of the Gothic, especially in a world that continues to be unequal.

As ever, do log in to comment, or email me on sp458@kent.ac.uk to add your thoughts.

Melodrama Meeting 23rd of January, 5-7pm, Jarman 6

All are very welcome to join us for the first Melodrama meeting of 2017.

We are going to discuss the BBC’s recent 2-part adaptation of Agatha Christie’s short story The Witness for the Prosecution. As the production is over 2 hours in length, we ask that you watch it beforehand.

You can find the episodes on iplayer, available until the 25th of January, here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/b086z959?suggid=b086z959

witness-for-the-pros

Adapted by Sarah Phelps (who was also responsible for 2015’s Agatha Christie 3 parter And Then There Were None), the production centres on the trial of a young man accused of murdering an older, wealthy, widow for her money. It  opens out the story in very different ways to Billy Wilder’s 1957 film starring Charles Laughton, Tyrone Power and Marlene Dietrich. Phelps updates the story for our modern times with a sexy older woman (Kim Catrall) catching young Leonard Vole’s (Billy Howle’s) eye. The adaptation is also firmly placed in its post World War I context with many of the characters still dealing with the aftermath of the conflict.

Do join us if you can for discussion on the adaptation and plans for the coming term.

Melodrama Meeting, 14th of November, 5-7pm, Jarman 7

All are very welcome to join us for the next Melodrama Meeting on Monday, 14th of November, 5-7pm, in Jarman 7. We will be discussing the film I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016, Osgood Perkins, 87 minutes).

pretty-thing

Released very recently (on Netflix the 28th of October) the film’s title appears to invoke Shirley Jackson’s classic gothic novel We Have Always Lived in the Castle (1962). Like Jackson’s work, the plot revolves around a large house and its unusual inhabitants.  Ruth Wilson appears as Lily, a live-in nurse who is contracted to care for the elderly Iris Blum (Paula Prentiss) but who comes to suspect that her employer’s house may be haunted.

 

 

Summary of Discussion on Barbe Bleue and Bluebeard

Watching these two very different films gave us much food for thought. In addition to tracing elements of the Gothic and Bluebeard fable across two texts, it afforded the opportunity to compare silent and sound films, as well as French and Hollywood productions.

Barbe Bleue’s treatment of the Bluebeard fable was fairly in keeping with Charles Perrault’s 1697 version of the traditional folktale. At only 9 minutes long, we were surprised that some of the scenes were so lengthy. In particular, the long wedding banquet scene added little to the tension of the woman in peril. Neither did it match some of the comedy scenes in the film – notably the proposed wife’s clear disdain for Bluebeard in the opening scene, or the ‘below stairs’ hijinks of the servants.

The scenes where the latest wife was encouraged by the devil to enter the forbidden room and submitted to this temptation were more successfully realised. Both gave Melies an opportunity to show off his special effects. The discovery of the previous wives’ hanging bodies was suitably striking.

bluebeard-wives

We were surprised by the fact this was undercut in the next few scenes as, after a short period of panic and struggle with her husband, the rescue occurred quickly and all Bluebeard’s wives were brought back to life.  While this last action fitted Melies’ reputation for screening the fantastical, it affects the film’s impact, especially as all the women are given a final scene happy ending in which they marry noblemen.

bluebeard-poster

Despite this non-traditional ending to the story, Ulmer’s film was even less true the traditional Bluebeard tale than Melies’. The film focuses on puppet-maker and painter Gaston Morrell – a serial killer of women in Paris. In a warning poster the killer is referred to as a ‘Bluebeard’.  But Morrell is not married to these women, which made us ponder the use of the term – especially as the film’s title.  It certainly draws on the horror so important to the Bluebeard tale, however, potentially signalling that this was important to audiences of the time.

Ulmer’s film contained more horror than Melies’ – as befits the director of spine-chilling The Black Cat (1934) starring horror stalwarts Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff. There wasbluebeard-warning-poster little suspense in terms of the killer though.  After initial scenes of melodramatic moral panic, and the lengthy puppet opera, the confirmation of the identity of ‘Bluebeard’ was fairly swift.  This was first implied by Gaston Morrell’s (John Carradine) emergence from the fog to make acquaintance with the heroine of the story – Lucille (Jean Parker). As well as echoing similar scenes in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lodger (1927), the detail of the framing was significant: the meeting occurred in front of the warning poster. Not long after, Morrell’s murder of his lover, Renee (Sonia Sorel), takes place on screen.

Ulmer was especially known for his talent for mise en scene – indeed American film critic Andrew Sarris assessed that this was the one notable aspect of his work (Andrew Sarris, The American Cinema, New York, Dutton, 1968, p. 143).  We were struck by bluebeard-dangling-puppetssome of the backgrounds of Morrell’s paintings. We were also impressed by Ulmer’s use of chiaroscuro to emphasise the gothic spaces of Morrell’s apartment as well as the scenes in the sewers below. Despite the latter being somewhat derivative of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera (1909), elsewhere another echo – this time of Melies’ film when the most recent wife discovered the previous ones– proved especially effective as dangling shadowy puppets eerily appear on the walls of Morrell’s apartment.  It is also notable that the film uses Killer point-of-view as bluebeard-killer-povshots of Morrell’s eyes spying through a hole prior to the puppet show as he searches for Lucille. We’ve previously discussed Killer POV in relation to The Spiral Staircase (1945, Robert Siodmak: see https://blogs.kent.ac.uk/melodramaresearchgroup/2015/12/02/summary-of-discussion-on-the-spiral-staircase/), and it is interesting that Ulmer’s use occurred first and that he had previously worked with Siodmak.

Our definition of the Gothic involving the Woman in Peril had obviously played an important part in Melies’ film though, as mentioned earlier, this was relatively short-lived in the silent. Here the tension is ratcheted up, as Lucille continually places herself in danger. Firstly, she declares herself not to be scared of Bluebeard, then she visits Morrell alone in his apartment, later confronting him here, again alone, even once she suspects the truth.

There is another Woman in Peril – Lucille’s sister Francine (Teala Loring) – who appears part-way through the film. It is suggested that she is an undercover agent, bluebeard-francine-and-lucilleworking with the police, though this is not made clear. She too places herself in danger (presumably often a part of her job), by luring Morrell into a trap – both are women who actively investigate. When Francine appeared it almost seemed she had usurped Lucille, but with former’s death at hands of Morrell, Lucille was once more the heroine.  While both women investigate, only Francine – who is actually employed as a detective (especially surprising in the 19th century) is punished by death though.

We noted that the film was rather odd tonally. This includes its shaky grasp of its historical and geographic setting – not all that unusual in Hollywood productions. While the costumes (women’s dresses with bustles) broadly suggest the 19th century, the amount of ankle on show was deemed inaccurate.  Although set in Paris, the only European accent was contributed by Swedish actor Nils Asther as Police Inspector Lefevre.

The uneven tone is especially notable in the film’s mix of comedy and horror. When in court trying to ascertain the painter of a particular picture, the questioning of artists’ models – one of whom replies in a thick Brooklyn accent – leads to responses of hilarity carry-on-screamingby those attending. Much of this revolved around suggestions of prostitution – references also found elsewhere in the film, including as Morrell’s justification of his crimes. In addition, the killing scenes, whether an eye-bulging arms-raised action or a protracted and ineffective fight, were a bit comical. We noted these comedy elements in a horror film contrasted to Carry on Screaming’s (1966, Gerald Thomas) mostly comic, but occasionally, frightening tone.

The pacing of the film was also patchy. We especially wondered why so much time was spent on the enacting of the puppet opera near the film’s beginning. This does, however, give the film audience time to ponder the significance of the fact that Morrell is playing (and singing) the part of Faust in the production, while an older man plays the film’s hero.  This disjuncture further helps suggest the fact Morrell is the serial killer at large. Non-diegetic music was also effectively used to punctuate melodramatic moments.

The extended musical scenes also caused us to further compare Ulmer’s sound and Melies’ silent films. In both, the killer got his comeuppance, with Morrell in the later film throwing himself into the Seine. Happy endings are also suggested in both.  This occurs more forcefully in the earlier production when all the previously dead wives come back to life and are married off. In Ulmer’s film the relationship between Lucille and the Police Inspector appears to grow.

You can find an English translation of Perrault’s tale here:  http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/perrault03.html

Both films are viewable on archive.org:

https://archive.org/details/Barbe-bleue

https://archive.org/details/Bluebeard

 

Do log in to comment, or email me on sp458@kent.ac.uk to add your thoughts.

Melodrama Screening and Discussion, 3rd of October, 5-7pm, Jarman 7

All are very welcome to join us for the first of this term’s Screening and Discussion sessions, which will take place on Monday the 3rd of October, 5-7pm, in Jarman 7.

We will be showing the silent French short Barbe Bleue (1901, George Melies, 9 mins) and the Hollywood production Bluebeard (1944, Edgar G. Ulmer, 72 mins).

bluebeard-ad

Continuing our focus on the Gothic, we turn to the fundamental Bluebeard myth. Melies’ short tells the traditional tale, while in the later film John Carradine plays  Gaston Morrell, a  Parisian portrait artist and puppeteer, whose models are mysteriously murdered by the violent ‘Bluebeard’.

At the time,Trade magazine Motion Picture Herald’s review categorised Ulmer’s film as a ‘Class Melodrama’. It also opined that its return to the Bluebeard narrative (albeit an updated version) was a response to the ‘tawdry fripperies frothed up…under the guide of melodrama’ (by W.R.W, 14 October 1944, p. 2138). It therefore closely ties Melodrama, and not just the Gothic, to the Bluebeard folktale, placing this, favourably, within the context of contemporary Hollywood productions.

Do join us if you can for these two films, as well as discussion about the upcoming term’s events.

 

Melodrama Screening and Discussion, 4th of April, 5-7pm, Jarman 7

After a brief break for the Festival of Projections Passages of Gothic installation, we return to the previously advertised screening schedule. All  are very welcome to join us for the last of this term’s Screening and Discussion sessions, which will take place on Monday the 4th of April, 5-7pm, in Jarman 7.

We will be showing Frances’ choice The Duke of Burgundy (2014, Peter Strickland, 105 mins). Frances has very kindly provided the following introduction:

DOB_4

 

Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy (2014) is a film not easily classified. Upon its release, critics contextualised the work within European art cinema traditions, with comparisons to Luis Buñuel and Ingmar Bergman, as well as noting the influences of 1960s and 70s sexploitation films (Collin, 2015; Foundas, 2014). Strickland, himself, concurs with this broad range of inspiration, noting how, amongst others, he was inspired by films such as A Virgin among the Living Dead (1973) and Belle de Jour (1967) (Strickland, 2015). I propose that another way to interpret this challenging and compelling film is to think about it within the traditions of the Gothic. If we reflect upon the Gothic tropes and motifs discussed over the course of the term, it becomes clear how Burgundy may be analysed in this fashion. The film is set in an undisclosed place at an unknown time and – as indicated by the film’s opening scene – the narrative focuses upon the action taking place in and around the house. The film begins with Evelyn sitting alone in a woodland and the title sequence takes place as we follow Evelyn as she journeys from this peaceful area towards the large, dominating house. Upon arrival the non-diegetic whimsical music abruptly stops and the sounds of Spring audible elsewhere on the soundtrack – such as birds singing – suddenly convey a different, more menacing tone. Evelyn rings the doorbell and waits anxiously as the footsteps within take some time to finally arrive. When they do Evelyn is faced with a stern-looking Cynthia at the door who coarsely reprimands her: ‘You’re late’. Silently Evelyn walks through the door towards the dark gloom of the house within.

The emphasis upon the house and the interactions of the heroine within it, is only one way Burgundy draws upon the traditions of the Gothic. There are other motifs which we have seen in the Gothic films screened previously appearing here: the importance of a key; the idea of secrets to be uncovered and hidden places; the imperilled woman who, in this case, appears to be oppressed and abused; and the heroine’s exploration of the domestic space within darkness. Indeed, Burgundy features a memorable moment when Evelyn gets out of bed in the middle of the night– whilst significantly dressed in a white nightie – and ventures into the dark cellar, lighting her way with a candelabra. This iconic image of the investigative heroine is one we have seen numerous times in the other Gothic films watched, as reflected by the several examples we included in our Passages of Gothic installation two weeks ago. In this way, Burgundy appears to be another return to the Gothic which is evident elsewhere within contemporary cinema: the year after Burgundy sees the release of Ex Machina and Crimson Peak (both 2015). These films echo the Gothic in comparable ways as Ex Machina evokes the BluebeardDOB_2 tale in its translation of the Gothic heroine into an android in a science-fiction story, whilst Crimson Peak mirrors the familiar tale of a woman marrying a man she hardly knows in manner evocative of Rebecca (1940), albeit with events now taking place in a period setting.

Ex Machina and Crimson Peak are reminders of the Gothic’s roots, particularly in respect to the centrality of relationships between men and women within the narrative’s trajectory. It is here that Burgundy differs. Evelyn and Cynthia are a lesbian couple and the story focuses on the dynamics of their sadomasochistic roleplaying in which Evelyn is the willing submissive. More broadly, Burgundy explores the relationships between various women within the film, with these interactions being alternately sexual, romantic, friendships, business transactions or scientific discussions. In Burgundy’s world, there are no men at all; indeed, even the mannequins which are part of the audience for the Lepidoptera lectures are female. The absence of a male figure may signal an alternative interpretation of the Gothic mode but this should not be read as a DOB_1new, radical opposition to the Gothic ‘norm’ (if such a concept exists). In fact, it can be said that Burgundy harkens back to past themes and representations which can be analysed through the theories of queer Gothic.

Queer theory and the Gothic have shared tendencies insofar as both emphasise contrary readings and the importance of subtext. George Haggerty pushes this idea further, arguing that the Gothic ‘offers a historical model of queer theory and politics: transgressive, sexually coded and resistant to dominant ideology’ (Haggerty, 2006, 2). Brian Robinson traces a similar historical connection, noting that ‘[t]he queer is inscribed in the DNA of Gothic fiction’ (Robinson, 2013, 143). This genealogy is one which the cinema inherits and capitalises upon because, as Robinson continues, it ‘was on film that the tropes of the Queer Gothic would find their full flowering’ (143). The queer readings possible – or, arguably, inevitable – of The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) and the numerous adaptations of Dracula (1897), along with cinema’s continued fascination with vampires, strongly supports this assertion. The female Gothic can also be contextualised within this lineage: the importance of the Gothic heroine’s relationship with the archetypal ‘other woman’ begins to illuminate how such films can be interpreted through queer readings. A key example of this is the new Mrs de Winter’s discovery of the obsessive behaviour of Mrs Danvers towards her previous mistress in Rebecca (1940).

Burgundy brings to the fore the implied interpretations and queer subversions which have a historical precedent within cinema’s Gothic. In this way, the film becomes an embodiment of the uncanny: the return of the repressed which is, as Freud writes, unheimliche because this element ‘is actually nothing new or strange, but something that was long familiar to the psyche and was estranged from it only through being repressed’ (Freud, 1919, 148). Mair Rigby explores how the Gothic is queer – and how queer theory is Gothic – through the dialectics of the uncanny. Rigby argues:

When I say that queer scholarship’s encounter with the Gothic is ‘uncanny’, I mean that it appears to be based on a sense of a ‘secret encounter’ in which the texts bring to light something that ought to be repressed, something that feels particularly pertinent to people whose identities, bodies, and desires have been culturally designated ‘queer’. (Rigby, 2009, 48)

Burgundy presents this ‘bringing to light’ quite overtly through the portrayal of a world without men and in the detailing of alternative sexual practices which form an integral part of pivotal scenes between Evelyn and Cynthia. The fact that the most explicit forms of these acts remain off-screen only emphasises further their unheimliche nature: they are both familiar and normalised – we meet The Carpenter who specialises in building sadomasochist contraptions – and strange and marginal, as reflected by the way these practices are pushed to the periphery of the frame. Most importantly for Burgundy, however, is how the uncanniness of the story draws attention to the dynamics of the relationship between Evelyn and Cynthia, which is fraught with difficulties. By presenting us with two Gothic heroines, the film returns us to the central questions which orbit the archetypal female protagonist within this mode of storytelling: is the house a safe space or a danger? Within the romantic relationship, who holds the knowledge and the power? Whose secret is to be uncovered? What forms of oppression must the female protagonist(s) struggle against? Burgundy therefore revisits the ‘queerness’ of the Gothic and the significance of the Gothic heroine, although the film offers some surprising answers to the questions above: just like the ‘repressed’ returning to the light through the processes of the uncanny, so too does Burgundy remind us how what we initially think of as familiar or unusual, may quickly become conversely strange and homely.

DOB_3

 

References

Collin, R. (2015). The Duke of Burgundy: ‘Sexy and Strange’. [Online]. The Telegraph. Available from: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/film/duke-of-burgundy/review/ [Accessed 30 March 2016].

Foundas, S. (2014). Film Review: The Duke of Burgundy. [Online]. Variety. Available from: http://variety.com/2014/film/festivals/film-review-the-duke-of-burgundy-1201331373/ [Accessed 30 March 2016].

Freud, S. (1919). The Uncanny. In: Freud, S. (2003). The Uncanny. London: Penguin Books Ltd.

Haggerty, G. (2006) Queer Gothic. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006.

Rigby, M. (2009). Uncanny Recognition: Queer Theory’s Debt to the Gothic. Gothic Studies, Volume. 11 Issue 1.

Robinson, B. (2013). Queer Gothic. In: Bell, J (Ed). Gothic: The Dark Heart of Film. Witham: Colt Press.

Strickland, P. (2015). Peter Strickland: Six Films that Fed into The Duke of Burgundy [Online]. BFI. Available from: http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/features/peter-strickland-six-films-fed-duke-burgundy [Accessed 30 March 2016].

Thanks very much for the introduction Frances! Do join us, if you can, for what sounds like a fascinating Gothic film many of us will have been intrigued by whilst watching the Passages of Gothic installation.

Passages of Gothic Project Notes

Following the intense and enjoyable screening of the Melodrama Research Group’s contribution to the International Festival of Projections,  here is a version of Frances’ wonderful Project Notes for Passages of Gothic.

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Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940) is often cited as the first in a cycle of films emerging in Hollywood in the 1940s labelled as ‘Gothic’. These films – which have also been called ‘melodramas’, ‘women’s films’ and ‘female film noirs’ – feature similar narratives focusing on the central female protagonist: the Gothic heroine. In all these films, the Gothic heroine encounters the old dark house which harbours a sinister secret which the heroine must investigate, often in fear for her life. This threat usually emanates from a male love interest, or is sometimes presented as the oppression of a larger patriarchal society. These films – which also include Gaslight (1944), Secret Beyond the Door (1947) and Sleep, My Love (1948) – feature remarkably consistent motifs, including keys, staircases, images of the heroine alone in the dark and the threat of the domestic space. Significantly, the study of film history reveals that these tropes are not isolated to the Hollywood Gothics of the 1940s but, in fact, continue to inform and appear within the Gothic cinema of today. This installation shall highlight and explore these similarities.

This project focuses on the female performance in these films in order to show the narrative and visual agency given to characters who are often seen as passive subjects and victims. Whilst the Gothic heroine may indeed be threatened by her male counterpart or dangerous environment, these stories encourage us to identify with the female lead, admiring her bravery. We engage with these films’ narratives by aligning with the Gothic heroine and her experiences. In particular, our exploration of space is mediated by the Gothic heroine’s actions. This project will illuminate how such investigation consistently takes place within the domestic space: the safety of a home is transformed into the mysterious and dangerous space of the old dark house. Comparing these films demonstrates how the Gothic heroine is often framed within the in-between places of a house: the stairwell, the hallway or the doorway. These thresholds are spaces which blur the boundaries between the public and private spheres of a home, in much the same way these Gothic narratives present a slippage between the real and the imagined; the everyday and the supernatural.

It is for these reasons that Passages of Gothic is presented within Eliot Dining Hall. Eliot College is a building which is also both a public and private space, containing professional forums for study (lecture halls, seminar rooms and offices) and private rooms (student bedrooms and kitchens). The Hall is at the heart of the college and provides passageways between these distinct locations. The Hall’s distinctive appearance has also historically made it the site for public and private events, and its scale is evocative of the intimating houses the Gothic heroine explores in these films. As the name of this event suggests, Passages of Gothic therefore invites you to immerse yourself into the Gothic heroine’s world.

The film shall play on three separate screens and is divided into six ‘chapters’. Together, these chapters create a narrative which is reflective of the fictional journey taken by the Gothic heroine: the heroine enters the house; she is forced the investigate strange occurrences; she is threatened by someone or something; and she may or may not survive her ordeal. In Passages of Gothic these six chapters are:

  1. “I dreamt I went to Manderley again”: Gothic introductions
  2. Inside the house
  3. “I should go mad if I stay!”
  4. Lights in the darkness
  5. Women in peril
  6. “Why?”

Passages of Gothic is the culmination of the research conducted by the Melodrama Research Group into female performance, stardom, genre conventions, Gothic tropes and the representations of the heroine on-screen. This installation showcases the re-emergence of Gothic tropes – in a remarkably consistent fashion – across film history, highlighting the importance of the Gothic heroine within this. Our celebration of the Gothic’s strong, brave, and active heroines contributes to an important, broader research question: why, after 75 years, do these representations of the Gothic heroine persist in the 21st Century?

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Top image: Lies Lanckman and Ann-Marie Fleming (image from The Innocents (1961); Main text: Frances Kamm; Bottom image: Crimson Peak (2015)

Credits:

Passages of Gothic

Project organiser: Sarah Polley

Project’s writer and content provider: Frances Kamm

Project’s editor: Alaina Piro Schempp

Lead technician: Lies Lanckman

Promotions: Ann-Marie Fleming

IT Support: Oana Maria Mazilu

Contributor: Tamar Jeffers McDonald

Contributor: Katerina Flint-Nicol

 

The Gothic Heroines

Joan Fontaine in Rebecca (1940)

Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight (1944)

Dorothy McGuire in The Spiral Staircase (1945)

Joan Bennett in Secret Beyond the Door (1947)

Claudette Colbert in Sleep, My Love (1948)

Deborah Kerr in The Innocents (1961)

Katharine Ross in The Stepford Wives (1975)

Shelley Duvall in The Shining (1980)

JoBeth Williams in Poltergeist (1982)

Sigourney Weaver in Aliens (1986)

Michelle Pfeiffer in What Lies Beneath (2000)

Nicole Kidman in The Others (2001)

Naomi Watts and Laura Harring in Mulholland Drive (2001)

Belén Rueda in The Orphanage (El Orfanato) (2007)

Rebecca Hall in The Awakening (2011)

Chiara D’Anna and Sidse Babett Knudsen in The Duke of Burgundy (2014)

Mia Wasikowska in Crimson Peak (2015)

 

The Melodrama Research Group

The Melodrama Research Group is sponsored by the Centre for Film and Media Research within the School of Arts, University of Kent. The MRG is a cross-faculty group of academics who are interested in exploring the ideas surrounding melodrama as a hotly-contested topic. The group meets for regular screenings and debates, maintains a dynamic blog and has hosted research events. The group brings together scholars from various disciplines in order to foster collaborative networks for studying this pervasive but challenging genre.

https://blogs.kent.ac.uk/melodramaresearchgroup/

International Festival of Projections

This is a new, free arts festival taking place at the University of Kent from 18-20 March 2016. Spread across both the Canterbury and Medway campus, and with satellite events within the Canterbury City Centre, the festival celebrates the exciting and varied theme of projections.

http://www.kent.ac.uk/projections/

 

 

 

Opportunity to vote for the BFI to restore Margaret Lockwood Melodrama Bedelia (1946)

Exciting News! The British Film Institute (BFI) is giving the public the chance to vote for 1 of 3 selected films to be restored back to its former glory.

Bedelia 6145628601_d8bb8155b6_b

You have the choice of:

Bedelia (Lance Comfort, 1946, starring Margaret Lockwood)

Mr Topaze (Peter Sellers, 1961, starring Peter Sellers)

The Assam Garden (Mary McMurray, 1985, starring Deborah Kerr and Madhur Jaffrey)

All of these films look really interesting though the possibility of seeing another Lockwood melodrama made Bedelia my choice.

The poll closes on the 11th of March.

Find more information and vote here:

http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/features/vote-rescue-forgotten-british-film

 

The International Festival of Projections 18th-20th of March

The Melodrama Research Group is taking part in the University’s  International Festival of Projections, running from the 18th-20th of March.

We will be presenting a piece entitled Passages of Gothic on the 20th of March from 5-8pm in Eliot Dining Hall. This 3 screen installation, lasting around 20 minutes, will begin on each hour and half hour.

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Our blurb:

Experience an atmospheric multi-screen installation celebrating the Gothic heroine in film. While she is often dismissed as a passive observer, this curated collection of classic film clips privileges the Gothic heroine in moments of active investigation and bravery. These often stand directly in opposition to her suffering and persecution. Explore the slippage between women’s private and public behaviours in a setting which reflects, indeed heightens, the complexity of these underrated female protagonists.

You can find more information, including the Festival’s programme, here: http://www.kent.ac.uk/projections/