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Québec filmmaker and producer Jean-Marc Vallée told stories of human complexity

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Québec filmmaker and producer Jean-Marc Vallée told stories of human complexity


The death of director Jean-Marc Vallée at the age of 58, on Dec. 25, sent shock waves throughout Québec and the international film industry. His critically acclaimed work broke many taboos and, combined with his unique esthetic, made Vallée an important artist of our time.

As a doctoral student in literature and performing and screen arts, my research lies at the intersection of feminist, film and television studies. In this article, I focus on Vallée’s cinematic style, which is deeply rooted in empathy.

An esthetic of simplicity

Vallée became known to Québec filmgoers with the release of his feature film Liste Noire (1995), but it was C.R.A.Z.Y. (2005) that propelled him to international fame.

This family drama set in the ‘70s continues to move viewers with the heartbreaking father-son relationship it depicts. But the film is slightly different from Vallée’s subsequent work. By the director’s own admission, the film is loaded with visual effects and technical features that were meant to demonstrate his love of filmmaking.

Jean-Marc Vallée and Pierre Even celebrate C.R.A.Z.Y.‘s award for best film of the year in 2006 at the Jutras Awards in Montréal.
THE CANADIAN PRESS/David Boily

Vallée’s style evolved in his later films: the camera was routinely shoulder-mounted, even for static shots. In an interview, Vallée explained that he saw his job as a filmmaker as capturing actors’ performances. Vallée developed the basics for this process in Café de Flore (2011), shooting dialogues using the shot/countershot technique by moving the camera without cutting the recording. This technique, borrowed from direct cinema and documentary, creates a more natural mise en scène where beauty emerges from simplicity.

Dallas Buyers Club (2013), which was made on a very low budget, gave Vallée an opportunity to refine this technique. Scenes were shot with natural lighting, without spotlights or other equipment hidden behind the camera, which made it possible to film 360-degree shots. With a handheld camera and a very small film crew, the camera follows the course of the scene according to the movements of the actors, affording them more freedom.

The film ‘Dallas Buyers Club’ starring Matthew McConaughey, allowed Vallée to refine his filming techniques.

This method demonstrated that Vallée allocated as much time as possible on his sets not to technique, but first and foremost to allowing actors to play with the camera, to perform a peculiar dance that places the story at its heart. By accepting a certain level of risk with this approach, Vallée departed from the canons and rules of traditional filming to provide his films a more organic and unique esthetic.

Beauty in imperfection

There is a visual metaphor in Café de Flore that perfectly embodies Vallée’s thematic approach: on several occasions, the protagonist moves away from the camera without leaving the frame. The camera remains in place and the focus shifts to the extras, all of whom have Down syndrome. This is a stylistic device that prefigured Vallée’s approach of shifting the point of view to individuals who are generally relegated to the background of society.

‘Café de Flore’, starring Vanessa Paradis, created a space for people who are often in the background of society.

The album The Dark Side of the Moon by the band Pink Floyd is prominent in Vallée’s work and the symbolism is not trivial; Vallée’s work reveals the dark side of human complexity. His films are like a glass prism refracting the colours of light; they act as a magnifying glass that scrutinizes and dissects realities that are as atypical as they are authentic.

The title roles in his works have been held by actors who meet industry beauty standards (Jared Leto, Jake Gyllenhaal, Reese Witherspoon, Vanessa Paradis, etc.), but instead of highlighting these actors’ physiques, Vallée likes to transform and challenge them through their acting and their ability to embody vulnerability and contradiction.

Jean-Marc Vallée and Reese Witherspoon
Director Jean-Marc Vallée with actor Reese Witherspoon at a press conference for the September 2014 release of ‘Wild’ in Toronto.
THE CANADIAN PRESS/Hannah Yoon

Vallée’s filmography explores different forms of distress through individuals who go on an initiatory journey, literally, as in Wild (2014) or figuratively, as in C.R.A.Z.Y and Demolition (2015). His protagonists are flawed and in search of meaning. They may have entered into an extramarital relationship like Madeline in Big Little Lies, or struggle with addiction like Ron in Dallas Buyers Club or Camille in Sharp Objects.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgljcMqPG98
Amy Adams plays alcoholic journalist Camille in the series ‘Sharp Objects’.

Vallée was careful to show their humanity from the very first minutes. His films and episodes almost always begin with a breath, a voice or a humming, which immediately provides an opportunity for the audience to experience the subjectivity of his characters. As for the soundtracks, a key element of his filmography, they are almost always intradiegetic, that is, the characters hear it and they are often the ones who play it. The audience is invited to discover the characters in a different way, through their tastes and their musical choices.

Cinema as an act of communication

If Vallée’s films are so moving, it is because cinema and television were, for him, an act of communication. Even during scriptwriting, the filmmaker showed he was conscious of his future readers, saying he was concerned with providing a pleasant reading experience. From the moment Vallée’s works are put into words, they become part of a dialogue between a sender and receivers. This empathetic vision of scriptwriting proves that the strength of Vallée’s cinema lies above all, in establishing contact between individuals.

Jean-Marc Vallée and Jake Gyllenhaal
Actor Jake Gyllenhaal and director Jean-Marc Vallée during the promotion of the film ‘Demolition’ at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2015.
THE CANADIAN PRESS/Chris Young

Concern for the audience was also central to his shoots, where Vallée said he made sure to respect the physical distance between camera and actors (and thus between characters and audience) in order to convey the right emotion. Some actors have done multiple projects with Vallée, showing their appreciation of his work. But more importantly, this reassured audiences. Actors Michel Laperrière and Émile Vallée, for example, played similar roles in C.R.A.Z.Y. and Café de Flore, creating a comforting déjà-vu effect for the audience, weaving links between the different stories.

In the editing process, Vallée created an additional layer of meaning through the use of brief flashbacks that gave access to the characters’ thoughts, and through certain choices that gave the films a more ironic tone. For example, in C.R.A.Z.Y., a passage from the opera L’Elisir d’Amore plays as Raymond turns over the Christmas table. Vallée did not seem to feel the need to lead his audience into emotion. Instead, the dramatic effect is accentuated by the contrast between the savagery shown on the screen and the dignified tone of the soundtrack. Vallée trusted his audience and enjoyed creating puzzles for them, letting them draw their own conclusions.

The gift of cinema

Vallée’s filmography offers the audience a complex experience of decentring, while creating a stylistic coherence between the different narratives. During a 2013 interview on the Québec talk show Tout le monde en parle, when asked about his choice of themes, Vallée answered with one word: “humanity.” His films are above all an ode to human complexity.

Reflecting on his career during a master class, he said he considered himself privileged and hoped that his stories would help him “give back a little.” For Vallée, storytelling was truly a gift, meaning not only a great ability, but, above all, something he would leave behind.



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Angry, wise, or plain horny? Zeus comes in many forms onscreen – just as he did in the original myths

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Angry, wise, or plain horny? Zeus comes in many forms onscreen – just as he did in the original myths


With a flash of garish colour and the blaring of an ’80s rock track we are on Mount Olympus, home to the pantheon of ancient Greek gods and goddesses.

But its not the Mount Olympus you’d normally think of. It’s an opulent house with large-screen TVs and gold watches. Overseeing it all is mighty Zeus, the king of the gods, played by Jeff Goldblum.

Netflix’s new six-part series, KAOS, is a brilliant reimagining of classical mythology for the 21st century. Created by Charlie Covell, writer on The End of the F***ing World (2017–19), the series follows six humans who learn they are part of a larger prophecy – their fates at the mercy and whims of the Olympian gods.

Narrated by Prometheus (Stephen Dillane), the series is darkly comedic in its exploration of themes from the original myths, such as power and abuse, gender politics and life after death.

Goldblum’s take on Zeus is mercurial. Powerful, but petulant and selfish, his Zeus is insecure. It’s a fascinating take on the god. “My character is complicated and charismatic, not to mention cruel,” the actor revealed in an interview.

The ancient Greeks themselves were ambiguous about Zeus. He could be a fearful figure or a humorous one. He ended up with dozens of epithets, ranging from Areius (“warlike”) to Zygius (“presider over marriage”), and most commonly Olympios and Panhellenios to signify his divine power over gods and humans alike.

Hollywood has similarly found a variety of ways to present Zeus, but usually in supporting roles (unlike in KAOS, where Zeus takes centre stage). In fact, one early cinematic appearance of the god was at the birth of filmmaking itself, in Georges Méliès’ silent film Jupiter’s Thunderballs (1903).

Zeus the powerful and vengeful god

Zeus (and his Roman equivalent Jupiter) was the god of sky and thunder in the Greek pantheon on Mount Olympus, and the father of many heroes and demigods of classical mythology. His main visual attribute was the lightning bolt, which is hinted at cleverly in a number of scenes in Goldblum’s performance.

The most common portrayal of Zeus in film and television is that of a vengeful and wrathful god who interferes with and manipulates the activities of others.

In Clash of the Titans (1981), a retelling of the myth of Perseus, Zeus (Laurence Olivier) manipulates the gods to support Perseus.

And this continues in the 2010 remake and its sequel, Wrath of the Titans (2012), in which Zeus (Liam Neeson) is an active participant in a plot centred on the struggle against Hades.

In the film Immortals (2011), although Zeus is often detached from the plot and merely observes, he is ultimately roused to action by anger.

Similarly, in the Percy Jackson films and TV series (based on Rick Riordan’s books), Zeus is characterised by his anger directed at Percy as he accuses him of stealing his lightning bolt.

Zeus the lustful abuser

Zeus was, well… there is no other way of saying it… horny. Incredibly horny. Despite the long-suffering protestations of his wife (and sister), Hera, Zeus would go on to father innumerable gods and demigods in the original myths.

His affairs with both divine and mortal women were almost always non-consensual and always ended badly for the seduced woman, who would either immediately die upon seeing Zeus in divine form or suffer the inventive vengeance of Hera. As Susie Donkin explained in the title of her 2020 book: Zeus is a Dick.

Unlike many filmed portrayals of Zeus, KAOS does not shy away from this aspect of his behaviour. But it is perhaps best represented in the adult animated series Blood of Zeus (2020-), in which much of the plot is driven by the aftermath of Zeus’ sexual proclivities.

Zeus the father figure

Hercules (Herakles in Greek) is one of the most filmed characters of all time, so the appearance of Zeus as his father is expected.

Perhaps most fondly remembered by all is Disney’s film Hercules (1997), in which Zeus (voiced by Rip Torn) is a warm and wise father. “For a true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart,” he advises his son.

Hercules in New York (1970) is a cult film best known as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first (dubbed) role as the titular strongman in contemporary New York. Here, Zeus (Ernest Graves) is responsible for Hercules’ exile – angry, but wanting the best for his son.

Anthony Quinn played Zeus in the TV movie The Circle of Fire (1994), which kick-started the TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) and its spin-off Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001). Zeus appeared periodically in both. Although Hercules in the series often referred to the neglectfulness of his father, Zeus is still presented as a loving parent in each appearance.

Zeus the comical

Zeus is also perfect to poke fun at. The ancients did it; in Aristophanes’ comedic play The Birds, for example, Zeus’ all-seeing vision is blocked by merely a raised parasol.

Perhaps the best example of this in modern cinema is Russell Crowe’s depiction in the Marvel movie Thor: Love and Thunder (2022). In this campy take, Zeus is all lightning bolts, with a toga that hides very little, and a controversial Greek accent.

But there was also a poignancy in Crowe’s Zeus, such as when he states:

It used to be that being a god, it meant something. People would whisper your name, before sharing their deepest hopes and dreams. They begged you for mercy, without ever knowing if you were actually listening. Now, when they look to the sky, they don’t ask us for lightning, they don’t ask us for rain, they just want to see one of their so-called superheroes. When did we become the joke?

Just as the ancient Greeks had many versions of Zeus, so does the modern world. And Jeff Goldblum’s brilliant performance suggests we certainly haven’t seen the last of Zeus’ thunderbolts onscreen.



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Eyes Wide Shut at 25: why Stanley Kubrick’s final film was also his greatest

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Eyes Wide Shut at 25: why Stanley Kubrick’s final film was also his greatest


Legendary filmmaker Stanley Kubrick spent a lifetime trying to make his final film, Eyes Wide Shut, a reality. He had been struggling to make it from the moment he began making feature films, some 75 years ago. When he finally did, 25 years ago in 1999, it killed him.

The plot centres on a physician (Tom Cruise) whose wife (Nicole Kidman) reveals that she had contemplated having an affair a year earlier. He becomes obsessed with having his own sexual encounter. When he discovers an underground sex group, he attends one of their masked orgies.

Having not made a film in 12 years since Full Metal Jacket in 1987, Eyes Wide Shut was hotly anticipated. Titillated by juicy rumours in the British tabloids, critics and fans who were expecting a steamy X-rated psychological thriller were inevitably disappointed. “Eyes Wide Shut turns out to be the dirtiest movie of 1958,” quipped one critic. Wait 12 years for anything and it won’t turn out to be quite so good as you imagined.

But where English speaking audiences panned it, the film was warmly received in Latin and Mediterranean countries. And in the long term, those audiences proved to be right and the film has grown in stature since. Not everyone might agree that, as Kubrick claimed, it was his best work but they certainly should see its merits today.

Kubrick adored the work of Arthur Schnitzler, the Austrian author of the 1926 text, Traumnovelle (translated into Dream Story in English), which became his source material. Once described as the greatest portrayer of adultery in German-language literature, Schnitzler wrote about themes of sex, marriage, betrayal and above all, jealousy. He even, it is rumoured, kept a diary of every orgasm he ever experienced.

Given that Kubrick discovered Traumnovelle in the early 1950s, it influenced almost every film he made. Consider the rapes in Fear and Desire (1952) and Killer’s Kiss (1955), the adultery and jealousy in The Killing (1956) and the attraction to younger women in Lolita (1962). Consider also the sexual violence in A Clockwork Orange (1971), the adultery in Barry Lyndon (1975), the marital troubles of The Shining (1980) and the toxic masculinity of Full Metal Jacket. They all culminated in Eyes Wide Shut.

This extends to the films Kubrick didn’t make too. The Freudian tale of Burning Secret written by Schnitzler’s contemporary, Stefan Zweig, that was abandoned in 1956 through to Napoleon, a figure that intrigued Kubrick partly because he had, in his own words, a sex life worthy of Arthur Schnitzler.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) official trailer.

Kubrick returned to Eyes Wide Shut time and again during his career. But it took until the mid-1990s, when Kubrick was in his 60s, before he was able to execute it.

He struggled with adapting the source material. How does a director who spent his career putting big themes like nuclear war, the space race and Vietnam on the big screen put the tiny intimate moments of marriage on there?

His wife, Christiane, kept stopping him, telling him they were too young. Or maybe it was because Kubrick was legendary for his pre-production research, so only with four decades of marriage under his belt did he feel he really understood the topic.

By the time it was eventually made, Kubrick was in a poor state of health. Already a ponderous filmmaker, he was slowing up. The production was long, arduous and still holds the record for the longest continuous shoot in cinema history.

Stanley Kubrick photographed shortly before his death.
LANDMARK MEDIA/Alamy

When it finally wrapped on June 17 1998, he was exhausted. Eyes Wide Shut had been filmed over 294 days, spread over 579 calendar days, including 19 for re-shooting with actress Marie Richardson, totalling slightly over a year and seven months. And post-production would last for a further nine months, only brought to a halt by Kubrick’s death.

Not around to influence the marketing, the film suffered from a poor critical reception. The result was a disappointed audience, looking for salaciousness where none existed. That, in turn, influenced their response and the initial commercial failure of the film in the US.

Many US and British critics felt the film was too long, the acting was unconvincing, the New York sets looked fake, the ideas were weak and the eagerly anticipated orgy scene was ridiculous. They thought it was hermetic, too ordered and too closed off.

In the end, ironically, it was the highest grosser of any Kubrick film. It cost US$65 million (£40 million) to make with another US$30 million in publicity costs and eventually grossed US$162 million worldwide.

Influence

Similar to The Shining, Eyes Wide Shut became the source of any number
of conspiracy theories. It has even been seen as a warning to the predations of convicted US sex offenders, Harvey Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein.

Now, it is regarded as a classic, maybe not Kubrick’s best film, but one with enough layers to reward repeated viewing. And its influence is felt in wider popular culture.

Consider the explicit reference in Jordan Peele’s 2017 film Get Out, a director much influenced by Kubrick’s style, when one character says: “You in some Eyes Wide Shut situation. Leave, motherfucker.”




Read more:
Stanley Kubrick redefined: recent research challenges myths to reveal the man behind the legend


Todd Field, who played Nick Nightingale in Eyes Wide Shut, showed a Kubrickian influence in the image making, pacing and almost dreamlike atmosphere of the film Tár which he directed in 2022. Jonathan Glazer’s Birth (2004) owes a huge debt to Eyes Wide Shut also.

In the final analysis, anyone who refuses to engage with Eyes Wide Shut is refusing to understand Kubrick as a filmmaker. He wanted to make it at the very point he began making feature films. It lurks behind every film he made.



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A brief history of found footage video art – and where Macklemore’s Hind’s Hall fits in

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A brief history of found footage video art – and where Macklemore’s Hind’s Hall fits in


Twenty-four hours after the release of Macklemore’s pro-Palestine protest song Hind’s Hall on social media on May 7, the video had already notched up over 24 million views.

In two minutes and 49 seconds, the music video uses found footage gleaned from social media feeds intercut with the songs lyrics in white text on a black background.

Much of the footage is of pro-Palestine encampments unfolding on the grounds of US universities. We also see images of popular Palestinian journalists Bisan Owed, Motaz Azaiza and Wael Al Dahdouh, footage from the Israeli bombing in Gaza, and older footage, such as N.W.A.’s Fuk Da Police (1988).

Much of the imagery is illustrative of the lyrics and polemic in messaging.

This use of found, gleaned and archival footage is a continuation of a long tradition in video art where artists have used existing footage to comment on and amplify social, political and environmental issues.

What is found footage?

Found footage filmmaking is a strategy used by artists and filmmakers who take audiovisual material from its original source and re-contextualise it.

Removed from its original context, this footage allows the artists to create new associations and critical perspectives on the material, culture and circulation of meaning. This process is also called remediation.

Prior to the proliferation of digital media, found footage artists found inspiration in newsreels, films and archives. Tracey Moffat worked with editor Gary Hillberg from 1999–2017 in creating a series of films call Montages, which reflect on tropes in Hollywood films.

Christian Marclay’s The Clock (2010) was a 24-hour video installation compiled from hundreds of films with scenes of clocks, watches and other timepieces.

Adam Curtis’ feature films draw on the vast BBC archives, which meditate on politics, power and psychology.

The advent – and plethora – of user-generated content on social media has given rise to new possibilities for video content.

With an endless flow of images and information through social media scrolls, the question of how to interrogate this material underpins how video artists approach found footage today.

Amplifying truths – and misinformation

The launch of YouTube in 2005 brought the ability to participate in the creation and sharing en masse of self-made video content.

Artist Natalie Bookchin saw this outpouring and sharing of personal testimonies through vlogs as an opportunity to reflect on the the contemporary social, cultural and political landscape in the United States.

Editing these vlogs, Bookchin created choral-like multiscreen video installations. Bookchin’s 2009 work Testament, a three-chapter multi-screen video installation, meditates on the shared vulnerability, isolation and collective experience of prescription medication, job loss and sexual identity.

Surrounded by the multiple voices in the gallery, the individual voices become a collective outpouring, giving voice to feelings of doubt, shame, anger and resignation. The multitude of voices transform an individual experience into one that reflects the impact of social and political pressures.

Bookchin’s follow-up work, Now he’s out in public and everyone can see (2012), similarly uses YouTube vlogs – but this time focused on the perception of African American men as threats.

Originally an 18-screen installation, the video excerpts speculate and comment on incidents involving famous African American men. This creates a collective narrative where there is always contradiction and never a singular agreed-upon truth.

In doing so, this work comments on how social media circulates and reinforces rumours, stereotypes and misinformation.

Montage and juxtaposition

Political commentary can also be made through juxtaposing unexpected images and sound. Montage editing is a technique first used by Soviet-era filmmakers in the 1920s through which the “collision” of images creates a new meaning.

American artist and filmmaker Arthur Jafa uses this technique to great effect in Love is the Message and the Message is Death (2016).

In this eight-minute video, Jafa takes up the question of the representation of African Americans through the 20th century through montages of found footage from film, music video, sports broadcasts and vlogs to the soundtrack of Kanye West’s Ultralight Beam.

The video oscillates between the hopes, dreams and great creative and sporting successes of Black Americans, undercut by the pervasive threat of systemic violence and white supremacy.

Long sequences of music, dance and sporting prowess, backed by West’s melodic anthem, are suddenly replaced by sounds and images captured on a mobile phone.

This footage feels familiar whether we have seen it or not. A scene taken from inside a car of a Black woman being pulled over by the police crying out for her children sits between that of gospel singing and the civil rights movement, demanding us to question what progress has been made.

While Macklemore’s found footage practice might seem unsubtle, given his platform, that’s also the point. Accompanied by unambiguous lyrics, re-presenting these images to a broad audience aims for maximum impact in a screen environment where attention is in constant demand.

Found footage gives video artists strategies to challenge dominant ways of thinking and reflecting on socio-political issues. When we see footage we know from social media, the news or films, we are given the opportunity to bring disparate ideas together, and challenged to see the world anew.



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