I like this conversation :)
Objectivity, to me, is truth devoid of human error-- it is, like many things, an ideal, not an actuality. What would it mean to be completely objective? Well, it is, to a certain degree, impossible, but I must point out here that just because something in its ideal and "pure" form is impossible doesn't mean that it is inherently useless an idea either. Objectivity, to me, is the ability to say, "this is not simply good TO ME, this has traits in it that, if people actually saw, would almost universally agree as being good."
Of course, there are obvious things that can be objectively agreed upon-- things such as the simple fact that humanity seeks what makes them happy, for instance. Even people who seem to be actively making themselves miserable are usually doing it for attention, which they see as positive.
Subjective, to me, is when you are free from the burden of being universal, and are talking about personal tastes. Arguments here aren't really very valid, but I don't think that is because they are non-existent. Everyone likes what they like for a reason, it is just that we allow that the burden of constantly being aware of our subconscious reasoning is a monumental (and probably very stressful) burden. Think if you had to explain why you liked every food you enjoyed, every song you liked, every film, every color, every location... there are probably reasons behind each, but to sit down and collect those arguments could take a lifetime. So, we simplify things by putting them in the realm of subjective.
The problem I have with subjectivity is that people often use this as an excuse NOT to have an argument. The whole beauty of subjectivity is that it is something we can fall back on when we aren't aware of our own subconscious reasoning. But to actively engage in an intellectual discussion with subjectivity as a defense-- "I would argue that art is subjective, and that as such, it doesn't need to go by any rule, any formula, any hard work, any actual effort at all"-- is like going into a gunfight unarmed.
Of course, unlike a gunfight, in arguments of objectivity versus subjectivity, the person who goes in unarmed (that is, without any arguments) survives to annoy and pester everyone who is trying to actually examine art and find out what, above personal taste, is at its foundation.
One could, of course, be fully justified in saying, "I don't know why but I liked this or that film". But inherent in the first three words in that sentence-- "I don't know"-- is the admittance "I have not done the hard work of finding the reasoning behind the film's appeal." Which is all well and good-- again, it would certainly be tiring if one constantly analyzed everything in life, though some are more prone to over-analyzing things than others-- but should never be brought into a debate about a certain films merits or demerits.
Of course, "I don't know why but I just think this film sucked" is an equally bad footing to stand on in a debate.
And I can tell, from your post, that you probably disagree with me somewhat that there is a reasoning behind every taste. Just bear in mind that I'm talking about looking at things with a microscope so to speak. Even a personal taste that seems completely random-- I dunno, let's take liking the look of vomit for instance-- could probably be seen as a chemical reaction to the smell of vomit, comingled with the brain firing certain neurons at the sight of specific colors found in vomit... I'm talking about looking at things more in depth than "I like green because my mom wore it." But, I must also point out that I hold a specific belief that also should be pointed out to fully understand my point: I'm a firm believer that everything has an inherent logic. It might not be logical in terms of what we normally call "logic"-- some people might argue that there exists such a thing as RANDOM, for instance, to try to debunk my belief, but I might also point out that the concept of random is a logical concept in itself. Randomness is not an affront to logic, it is merely an affront to pattern, and that which is logical does not necessarily need a pattern to be such, it just so happens that human perception tends to be designed in such a way to favor things with patterns because they are simpler to understand. We think in repetitions and convenient metaphors that help us understand, but just because we do not currently understand something, I think it ridiculous to assume it can never be understood.
That said, when I talk about conventions, I do not mean merely that a horror movie should have a guy with a knife... in fact, by my personal definition of horror-- which attributes it more to dark fantasy than a play on serial killings-- does not really like that association. But when I talk about conventions, I mean the things in a horror movie that appeal to our darker sensibilities-- there is a logic there. There are reasonings behind even the seemingly random. The werewolf isn't simply scary because he has sharp teeth, he is scary because he represents everything we suppress to be "civilized". The same goes for someone like the main character in American Psycho. Thinking about why we suppress what we do, these films play on what would happen if we let out "the beast". That is why I find the horror genre so interesting, not because of its gore or its predictable violence. In fact, I find the genre at its weakest when it merely attempts to have the gestures common to fear, rather than playing around with why we fear what we fear.
Of course, there is also an admitted subjectivity to my love of the horror genre-- I don't know why I love things like cobwebs and dark passageways and the monstrous unknown. There is a simple pleasure in feeling exhilirated because I honestly feared for my life (albeit, in a safe, fictional, environment). And it is hard to deny that fear, if felt strongly, isn't pleasurable for some reason. Just look at the appeal of roller coasters, sky diving, and similarly extreme past-times. For me, there is the intellectual side, and then there is the as-of-yet unexplained phenomena (let us call it the subjective aspect of horror) of the thrill of near-death (be it real or fictional).
But that is a tangent here. My point with Slipstream was that it did not, to me, seem to have any links to pleasurable experience that could be explained or that could be subjective. It did not objectively, for instance, have conventions of any genre, in itself not necessarily a bad thing, but as a direct consequence, it also did not have any recognizably satisfying elements to judge it by. When you watch a comedy, you judge it by a lot of things, but you feel satisfied if it made you laugh at least once, really hard. When you watch horror, you feel satisfied if it got under your skin and made you uncomfortable and made your heart beat, perhaps, a little faster. Watch Drama, and you will probably feel most satisfied when you feel the characters are your friends, and that anything that happens to them, happens to someone close to you. These are what I mean by conventions-- not cold, impersonal formula-- "insert gag here for comedy, knife here for horror, romance here for drama..."-- but rather, an understanding with the audience as a sort of promise by the filmmakers: "We WILL make you feel X emotion" ("X" being something different depending on the genre). I felt... nothing except confusion after watching slipstream.
Although I will admit, it had humor, I was never sure if its humor was intended or accidental. Which means, while I laughed, I got something out of it, but it is impossible to tell if the filmmakers would be happy or angry that I laughed.
Watch a horror film, and you know the filmmakers are happy when you jump in your seat. Watch drama, you know the filmmakers will feel successful if their audience cries.
What would make the filmmakers of Slipstream happy? If they confuse their audience? Possible, but doubtful. I doubt even Beckett intended his works to confuse the audience-- after all, what is the point of communication if you start with the premise "I will create a form of communication that will not communicate anything"? As a thought-experiment, I suppose it has merit... but as a form of communication-- which, to me, art communicates something, even if it is difficult to explain WHAT it communicates (subjectivity isn't only a way to escape looking deeply, it can also point out that understanding things is sometimes an extremely difficult thing)... but art communicates something, otherwise why bother? So... again, I don't think the filmmakers of Slipstream would argue that the point was to confuse the audience. Challenge them, perhaps... but challenge them to do what? To analyze what they see? That implies that there is something to analyze, conclusions to come to. Equations to balance.
So, I throw the burden out... I admit, I have no clue what the filmmakers were trying to accomplish with this. I challenge all those who normally would say "there doesn't have to be an explanation-- art is subjective"... to you who would say this, or to any who are willing to try, I throw this challenge out:
Tell me what exactly it is that the film Slipstream tries to accomplish, from beginning to end. "Nothing" means the filmmakers might as well have done nothing at all-- considering how much motivation it takes to make a film, it is doubtful that this is the case. No, there is, I guarantee, something that Hopkins wanted to say with this, so... what is it? That the psyche is disrupted and chaotic? I'll by that, but not without a conclusion to draw from it-- ok, so the mind can be a chaotic place, but what does that actually IMPLY?
To those who take my challenge, I'll put it another way... someone comes up to you and asks you this simple question: "Why should I see Slipstream?" What do you answer to them? Do not take it for granted that they know the same things you know, if you think they should go see it. Explain to them (and to me) why you liked it-- if you do not know, that just means you don't have a "gun" and thus shouldn't take on the challenge of this "gunfight". What did you like about the film, and why?
I am curious about what will come up with this, and would like to thank Ash for the stimulating and challenging conversation about art, objectivity, and subjectivity :)
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ashedmaniac
15 years ago
Sorry to cut this "short" (well, not really short at all, really) and not address as much as I want to directly, but I'm working on not explaining everything ever in my online discussions because it eats up a decent chunk of my time.
So...
someone comes up to you and asks you this simple question: "Why should I see Slipstream?" What do you answer to them?
Because it's an experiment in film meant to allow you to question the conventions, archetypes and rationale behind what makes a film a film and what emotional connection, if any, is necessary in order to comprehend the work of any artist.
I imagine you might claim, once again, that you appreciate it from that standpoint but not from a more objective one. But I think there
is a more objective view (in a sense) that encourages the questioning of what makes something "meaningful" or "the right way" to do something.
Also, I wrote this earlier and never managed to post it:
If one is aware of Anthony Hopkins' frustration with acting, due to convention, due to the "paint-by-numbers" and "phone it in" side of things...one can easily view the intention of Slipstream to be to evade these preconceived notions of what exactly everything must be in order for it to be emotionally resonant. It's not important that we care for the characters. What's important is that we connect with the material - even if the way we connect with it is in the manner in which we feel that we can not connect (like Hopkins might well feel in relation to acting, which he's referred to as rarely feeling challenging to him anymore).
For example, when a playwright does a play about an idea rather than a person, they aren't saying, "Oh, when these characters are only onstage briefly and never return." that those characters don't matter. They are, in fact, saying the exact opposite. Saying that each individual element is necessary for the tapestry's primary goal, but no individual element alone can replace the tapestry itself. So a direct connection to a "through line" isn't all that important.
So you can't go, "Oh, this movie was about this one thing singularly and how it ultimately reached this predestined or emotionally satisfying conclusion." because to do so is to miss the point. The point being that there is no point. The film itself is a commentary upon filmmaking, disillusionment, the lack of recognition, etc. That's why it incorporates so many elements related to filmmaking overtly.
Back to me now...
I'm not saying it's objectively "good"...but I don't know many films that are. So to say it's subjectively good, within an objective approach - that is, "I went into it with an open mind and found the questions it raised to be more interesting and important than its perceived 'lack of answers'." seems completely fair to me. As it does when someone gives an opinion in relation to most films where one understands the film's content or intention or whathaveyou.
Because to assume a film must be coherent in order to convey something to an audience is, I feel, often wildly misguided and more about "applied knowledge" (possibly your studies) than what is actually there.
Incoherency is sometimes a part of the point. The lack of a point is sometimes a part of the point. And it need not exactly be "meta"-anything or viewed through that lens in order for it to hold some sort of weight.
I know someone with whom I saw a fairly "paint-by-numbers" experimental sort of film dealing with metaphysics and some vague notion of spirituality perhaps. It utilized a lot of interesting camera work and "hidden" elements throughout which a film scholar might point toward as the ultimate point of the film. Not the narrative - but that artistic exploration.
However, I know someone who knows next to nothing about film who points toward it as their favorite film...and claims it as such due to the layering, technique, etc. Not to be harsh, but this isn't an overly insightful person when it comes to narrative or style.
Of course, many critics disliked the film for its traditional "experimental" approach...but that doesn't mean it doesn't have worth to some individuals that are knowledgeable about its given elements as well as someone who "isn't knowledgeable".
So I think the notion of, "If I didn't know film so well..." or whatever can kind of be chucked out the window. Although, granted, I'll give you that a decent chunk of the population might not "get" something that is outside the norm to a degree, but to some extent, it's difficult for me to even acknowledge the "mindless parading" folks as "humans" in the first place. I don't mean that in the sociopathic, serial killer way, but I mean that if you can't apply ANY thought, you have no business being around art or stating opinions of it (I know this is harsh as well, but I think you share my sentiment, to some degree. There's no point in bothering trying to express a view on anything if you can't think about it and consider it for yourself...and what might be objectively and subjectively intrinsic to that view.)
-Ash
P.S.
art communicates something, otherwise why bother? So... again, I don't think the filmmakers of Slipstream would argue that the point was to confuse the audience.
How else do you communicate utter confusion and hopelessness at understanding to an audience except by confusing them and making their efforts to understand hopeless? In a horror film, one tends to (if it's done well) relate to the main characters enough that their horror and the tone of the film is reflected in the audience member. Why should that be any different here and why then is that "non-point" of "That's it. There's no reasoning." being conveyed to the audience considered to be "not communicating anything"? In fact, couldn't the whole point be, "Hey, everything's interpretive."? I mean, the film is so open for a reason, in all probability...and one might imagine that reason to be to allow you this questioning about it all.
Explain to them (and to me) why you liked it-- if you do not know, that just means you don't have a "gun" and thus shouldn't take on the challenge of this "gunfight".
Why do I have to personally like something in order for it to be objectively good or have merits within it? I didn't
particularly like the film. But then again, I thought the Godfather was "a pretty good film". And I know that, to some who study film, that might be considered sacrilege or something...
Dance the dance of joy. Because you're not going to be living a life of it.
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shaggy673
15 years ago
You raise a lot of the points that make me like something like Waiting for Godot (which actually might be my favorite work of art... which might surprise you considering which side of the coin I'm arguing here). I just felt like, whereas in Godot, the "nonpoint" is saying, "I feel your pain at the absurdity of life-- I feel it too." The viewer is left at the end feeling just as confused, just as bewildered-- but for some reason, there I felt it was a good thing. Slipstream just felt like an all-out attack, and it made me feel exhausted... I got the point pretty early on, and just felt bombarded by attack after attack on convention.
Again, this isn't necessarily a bad thing-- I'm definitely not one to argue that aggression cannot be channeled productively, I do think it can. But I'm not a fan of works that feel like they are attacking their own audience, rather than some aspect of life, or some aspect of art... maybe these "attacks" are not so much on the audience but on the forms of art, like you detailed above. In fact, I felt that there were some sincere moments when the film worked attacking its own conventions.
The whole "why did you kill the script supervisor" bit I thought was hilarious. I just feel like it was too self-referential; I personally "got" the lingo, but I wonder if some people didn't watch the film feeling the same way I do about doctors...
ok, so that point is a little out of left field, so let me explain: I have a close friend who is in med school. I love her to death, but she talks about the human body sometimes like it is a cold machine. I'll catch her saying things like, "ow you are hurting my scalpula" when I give her a hug. Seeing my look of confusion, she said, "that little triangular bit of the back of your shoulder."
I responded, "you mean your shoulder blade?" The feeling I got... was sheer frustration because, really... if you mean shoulder blade, why don't you say shoulder blade? It was a small thing-- and something I forgive in her-- but it can be really annoying, and I sometimes feel as if it is purposively trying to show-off...
All that said, the last point I want to make... I was a film student... and I found Godfather "ok", really good in parts... I hated Apocalypse Now, which apparently I was insane for thinking it was an incoherent mess... point being... I think there is a part (perhaps ONLY a small part) of an art-pieces merit by how it is received, beyond its technique. Sure, Picasso might be considered a genius of technique, but to me, he isn't the painter who invokes the most emotion or even interests me the most. Blasphemy I know.
Don't get me wrong-- I've seen popular culture adore pieces of crap. So I'm not saying it is the only measure of a piece. But I find it interesting that you say you didn't "particularly" like the film.
I give Hopkins props for experimenting-- I really do. I just think that the minute you make something experimentally, it means your purpose is explicitly not to please an audience-- you usually actually make something an audience just doesn't "get"-- but to expand upon your own art.
I feel Hopkins definitely expanded. But something about the manner of it feels more like... the word "expanded" here is something private, almost... dirty. I'm not sure how to describe it, but its the way I always feel about experimental films-- I feel like I'm watching the artist where I'm not supposed to be watching, like a voyeur-cam or something.
Perhaps it would've been different if it were, say, Anne Hatheway I was watching in this voyeuristic way.
So... to end this long rant-- because I've given my perspective about all points I can, and really enjoyed reading yours-- I give props where props is due, it took balls to make this film. Did it really succeed? To me... yes for Hopkins, no for his audience.
I leave it up in the air whether or not that is a good thing :p
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ashedmaniac
15 years ago
I think part of that voyeuristic side is that Hopkins himself might have gone into the filming having no idea what he was doing. So one feels like they're looking in on his artistic process or something. I believe it was him working through his confusion and inhibitions related to narrative/time and what one can convey to an audience. People often say that the best way to learn is by doing and although, yes, that would more or less make this film "for him" and not for an an audience, I'm not sure if it cuts down its validity as...whatever it is.
Although I consider myself quite pretentious (often unjustifiably, unfortunately), I tend to dislike this trait in others as well as myself. So with experimental films, I'm often left going, "Ah, I see why you did that." and disliking aspects for it. Even with Dali's. I suppose that, in a world surrounded by "reality television" and ever-growing cynicism among the American public, it's difficult to avoid falling into that mindset myself. One wherein it's all about the science, as your med school friend might come across. Wherein beauty is negated for cold, hard facts. "Oh, if you frame a shot in this manner, it tends to evoke feelings of..."-type things. I try to hold more romantic views, but when it comes to analysis and/or objectivity, as we've discussed a bit, you can't really say, "It made me happy!" as a justification.
But on the same level, I loathe those analytical, procedural things. When they're forced, when they draw attention to themselves. However, with Hopkins, I felt the point wasn't to go, "Look at how artistic I am." but more so to go, "Look at how artistic I'm not." To examine his failings and just put it out there and go, "Well, this is something."
Say a great artist known for painting bridges suddenly drew a sketch of a dog. Not a very good sketch, but they tried and you can tell what it is. Are we then not meant to appreciate it as art? Sure, it might not be a perfect likeness, it might not be what they're known for, and we've probably seen others do better drawings of dogs. But they didn't draw it on a napkin. They drew it on paper, then pointed out to the world that, by looking at it as a picture of a dog, the world was lying to itself. And that by thinking it mattered who drew it, the world was lying to itself. That all of these circumstances and relevant facts were exactly the opposite and none of it meant anything. Thus, our opinion of their drawing of the dog is irrelevant, as is the creator's (or, in the film, writer who doesn't know what he's doing...similarly to Hopkins).
So, in that sense, Hopkins isn't toying with our understanding of film conventions. He's saying none of them matter. He's saying it's pretentious and up-our-own asses to think they do. They're constructs we've created and, as time unravels in the film, so does our understanding of what the film intends to be. Because he's saying time, our understanding, it's all just circumstantial and "there" at best. It's not reality. Our perception isn't reality. Reality is and we can't have it.
I don't think one is MEANT to leave Slipstream with any sort of sense of "what it's truly about" or anything of that sort. Or feeling better for having seen it. I think one is meant to leave Slipstream thinking, "Wait...what?" and feeling kind of left out. Because we are left out. Because Hopkins was left out. Because none of us know the nature of time, of being, of film, etc. We just pretend we do. For all our studying and questioning and "trying to read into" things...in the end, all we're reading into is ourselves.
*points above*
See that thing about pretension I mentioned? I want to pat myself on the back AND punch myself in the face now. Because I think I said some valid stuff...but it's all misguided, "I want to understand."-ness which, in the face of a film like this in relation to what I'm claiming it may be about, betrays the point to begin with. So ugh...
-Ash
Dance the dance of joy. Because you're not going to be living a life of it.
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