Shot on the Spot: Primitive Film

Abstract

ing gaze. Rather, a type of pure sexuality is proclaimed in the classical beauty of the bodies that populate the opening shots of Tabu. A mythical origin is represented here in which sexuality exists in a purportedly state. Primitive sexuality seems to occupy a space prior to the Western history of sexuality in which it is exposed, as Foucault would claim, as a condition of discursive regulatory practices. Physical contact between individuals is presented as direct and harmonious, mirroring the individual's relationship to his or her natural surrounding. In one of the final shots of Paradise, immediately prior to the arrival of the messenger Hitu, we see Reri and Matahi happily sliding down a waterfall. They are clasped together in an embrace in much the same way as the water surrounding them lightly hugs their bodies. Communication is sensually based on this island paradise and is seldom more complex than the throwing of a wreath or the splashing of water. In contrast, bodies dwelling on the Iles dangereuses are presented either in utter isolation or as part of a faceless crowd. The celebration of Reri's and Matahi's arrival in their new island home is a raucous affair with lots of drinking and dancing to accordion music. Bodies moving in wild confusion fill the frames, and the dancing figures are pictured as gyrating parts that move independently of the will of the individuals. The Isle of the Blessed is a silent world: the music that accompanies the opening scenes is clearly non-diegetic, there for the viewer's ears only in order to enhance the visual effects. The festival scene upon the dangerous second island, on the other hand, is dominated by a soundtrack which, while never synchronized in the manner of sound films, nevertheless repeatedly threatens to break down the boundaries between non-diegetic and diegetic. Jazz music, a symbol of a decadent, alienated Western aesthetic, accompanies the reveler's angular motions. The musical chords are very quickly mixed with shouts and crowd noises. The noise literally threatens to take over, driving the bodies into an increasingly frenzied state of movement. A melange of popular folk dance tunes and Bavarian yodels stands in marked contrast to the authentic native figures of Reri and Matahi. The intrusion of foreign sounds, in fact, renders a sense of alienation in the scene that is much more powerful than the stereotypically evil faces of the degenerate white settlers. In his review of Tabu, Rudolf Arnheim criticized the film for contaminating the true documentary visuals of Tahitians with the false tones of the European soundtrack, claiming that the result was a deceptive and confused piece of work.33 This critique, while perhaps partially springing from Arnheim's distaste for the kitschy soundtrack, is nevertheless based upon a wholesale acceptance of the visual purity of the primitive versus the jumbled of civilization. The discordant jazz and confusion that accompanies the writhing bodies exposes a civilization in which language is slowly decaying into noise. Tabu does not simply contrast good music with bad noise. Sound in general is an alien element that disrupts the peacefulness of the primitive visual realm. In the process, both the audience and the diegetic characters are forced to become listeners and not just observers. In ranking seeing above hearing, Tabu adheres to a common heirarchization of the senses, one which Simmel supports as well in This content downloaded from 207.46.13.126 on Sat, 24 Sep 2016 04:18:18 UTC All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms