Intersection Of Film Research Articles

Film-Induced Place Attachment: A Study of Emotional Connection that Tourists Develop with Destinations Depicted in Films

The intersection of film and tourism is a recognized driver of destination exploration and traveler motivation. This study delves into the concept of Film-Induced Place Attachment (FIPA), which signifies the emotional bond tourists develop with real-world destinations portrayed in films. This research aims to comprehensively understand the mechanisms behind FIPA, its influence on tourist behavior, and its implications for destination management and marketing strategies. Methodology: This study employs qualitative approaches to gather insights from a diverse range of participants, including film tourism stakeholders and tourism experts. Surveys and descriptive analysis of relevant films and their impact are utilised to uncover the multidimensional nature of FIPA, exploring factors such as cinematography, storytelling, cultural representation, and personal resonance that contribute to the emotional engagement tourists experience. Findings: Findings from this research highlights the profound impact of films in shaping tourists' perceptions and motivations to visit specific destinations. The emotional connection established through film-induced narratives often results in heightened curiosity and desire to experience the depicted locations firsthand. The study further explores the potential for FIPA to influence not only travel decisions but also the length of stay, expenditure patterns, and repeat visitation behaviors. In conclusion, this study sheds light on the intricate relationship between film-induced narratives and the emotional attachment tourists develop towards depicted destinations. By understanding the underlying mechanisms of FIPA, destination marketers, policymakers, and stakeholders can harness its potential to shape positive and lasting tourist experiences, ultimately contributing to sustainable tourism development.

Review: Refugees and Migrants in Contemporary Film, Art and Media, edited by Deniz Bayrakdar and Robert Burgoyne

Review: <i>Refugees and Migrants in Contemporary Film, Art and Media</i>, edited by Deniz Bayrakdar and Robert Burgoyne

Interactive documentary and the reinvention of digital journalism, 2015–2020

Interactive documentary (i-docs), an innovative hybrid form at the intersection of film, journalism, and digital games, has matured beyond its first wave of experimentation, gaining distinction among the most highly evolved immersive media of the twenty-first century. The latest generation of i-docs is currently winning accolades at both major film festivals and game design summits. This study charts the evolutionary trajectory of North America’s most recent and influential wave of i-docs in works mostly appearing since 2015. It culturally situates i-docs as immersive media that extend experimentation with narrative journalism into the realm of fine art and social activism. Building on the foundation of activist, highly empathic news experiences established in the early 2010s, the most recent advances in i-docs range from live action VR to animated digital games. Such works include the Canadian National Film Board’s 2018 AR (augmented reality) experience East of the Rockies, Occupied’s 2019 Cannes entry The Holy City VR, Roger Ross Williams’ 2019 Tribeca debut Traveling While Black, and iNK Stories Verité VR Series’ 2017 Blindfold and Hero, winner of the prestigious Storyscapes Award at Tribeca in 2018. The vanguard of i-docs has expanded collaboration between film, news, and digital game industries to provide new forms of citizen engagement through advocacy journalism aimed at social and political change. Through the use of John Pavlik’s (2019) critical framework for understanding immersive journalism, this article examines the texts, producers, and industrial contexts of the most recent and influential North American i-docs, as one branch of the form defined by Gaudenzi, Aston, and Rose. Principles of transparency, social responsibility, and a commitment to veracity in i-docs epitomize the esthetic and political potential of digital journalism as an empathic alternative to traditional news coverage.

‘In a partisan way’: Želimir Žilnik’s Uprising in Jazak and the reconstruction of antifascist memory from below

This text works at the intersection of film, memory and politics taking the case of Želimir Žilnik’s short film »Uprising in Jazak« (1973) as its object of study. Most notably, the text will present visual and alternative memory strategies. The text argues that Žilnik’s film is one of the most prolific examples of making a partisan film in a partisan way from the epoch of socialist Yugoslavia. The film’s raw image and cutting is a conscious politico-aesthetical intervention into the dominant genre of that time in socialist Yugoslavia – huge war partisan spectacles also called »Red Westerns«. Žilnik’s method consists of a delicate bottom up ethnographic reconstruction of partisan and antifascist memory of the poor villagers in Vojvodina (village Jazak) who − 30 years after the war – collectively tell and renegotiate the stories of the antifascist resistance from the war. The visual language and method of Žilnik stays immensely actual today in post-socialist times of historical revisionism, also in terms of political message. Žilnik succeeds In complementing an Arendtian trope that analysed fascist collaboration from below in terms of »banality of evil« with something I name the everyday deeds and practices of resistances that constituted the partisan community.

Notes on Contributors

Notes on Contributors

Inaugurating Philosophy of Film Without Theory

&#x0D; Philosophy of film without theory is a methodology that aims to motivate and legitimise the current and future development of a range of a-, non-, and anti-theoretical ways of working at the intersection of film and philosophy. We contrast philosophy of film without theory with the main traditions of theoretically orientated philosophy of film, as well as philosophically inflected film Theory and film-philosophy. We also draw attention to the range of philosophical practices and pursuits that distinguish philosophy (in general) without theory and contemporary philosophy (in general) with its near ubiquitous theoretical presumption. The paper finishes with a brief introduction to the various contributions to this Special Issue of Aesthetic Investigations on Philosophy of Film Without Theory.&#x0D;

IJSD Volume 8 Editorial: Solo/Screen

This volume did not start out as a themed issue, but similarities will emerge among any collection of essays when ideas and authors find themselves in proximity to one another. In our open call, we asked for screendance artists and scholars working at the intersection of film, dance, visual arts, and media arts to "expand and critique contemporary notions of screen-based images and changing choreographic practices, and [to] engage with theories and philosophies from interdisciplinary fields."[^1] An unanticipated commonality emerged among the contributions responding to this open invitation: solo performance. [^1]: "International Journal of Screendance Volume 8: Call for Papers." *Centre for Screendance*. May 17, 2016. &lt;https://screendance.wordpress.com/2016/05/17/international-journal-of-screendance-volume-8-call-for-papers/&gt;

Exhibiting the German Past: Museum, Film, and Musealization ed. by Peter M. McIsaac and Gabriele Mueller

Reviewed by: Exhibiting the German Past: Museum, Film, and Musealization ed. by Peter M. McIsaac and Gabriele Mueller Alexandra M. Hill Exhibiting the German Past: Museum, Film, and Musealization. Edited by Peter M. McIsaac and Gabriele Mueller. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2015. Pp. 300. Cloth $60.00. ISBN 978-1442649651. This fine collection of essays is built on the premise that museums and films share common strategies and that "both engage in processes of representation, interpretation, and canonization that … are necessary to render ephemeral forms of social memory into more durable symbols and practices, thus shaping collective remembering and contributing to the construction of institutionalized top-down memory and historical master narratives" (5). Of primary concern to both museums and films are questions of authenticity, the tension between education and entertainment, and modes of seeing. The first two chapters focus in particular on modes of seeing. Simon Ward applies his theory of the "urban museal gaze" to film and finds examples specifically in Wim Wenders's Himmel über Berlin (1987). Mark W. Rectanus argues that "civic seeing" can help visitors understand the very different intentions and strategies between two museums: the BMW Welt complex including the BMW Museum, and the Jewish Museum Munich, specifically the installation "Speaking Germany" by Sharone Lifschitz. These two articles, both rich with theory, serve as an introduction to the many case studies that follow. The next pair of very engaging articles focuses on film. In her excellent article, Alice Kuzniar closely examines the documentary Unser täglich Brot (2005), which documents various aspects of European factory farming. While Kuzniar finds that the film "participates in a musealization to the extent that it documents … what would otherwise remain invisible and unarchived" (72–73), she wonders whether the film techniques (characterized predominantly by long shots and the absence of narration) tacitly condone the "technologization at work in this industry" (65). Catriona Firth compares the book Der Baader-Meinhof Komplex (1985) by Stefan Aust and the eponymously named film by Uli Edel and Bernd Eichinger, considering [End Page 701] the consequences of representing history through a "testimonial mode" (in the case of the book) versus an "experiential mode" (in the case of the film). The next articles by Anne Winkler and Jonathan Bach engage with museums of East German everyday life. Winkler, a sociologist, is especially interested in the amateur museums that are privately funded, thereby escaping aspects of museum tradition (e.g., didactic panels) and the official policy of understanding the East German past within the framework of life under dictatorship. Bach's more theoretical article, which focuses on the authenticity and tactility of objects in museums of GDR Alltagskultur, is less interested in distinguishing among types of such museums—a difference that I would argue is still quite important. The following three articles do not limit themselves to one type of media but consider how memory of the National Socialist past is remediated using a variety of genres and techniques. Stephan Jaeger looks at popular representations of World War II in museum exhibits and documentary/docudrama films. Annika Orich and Florentine Strzelczyk's very well-researched and contextualized article traces the difficulty in discussing the National Socialist film Jud Süß (1940) in a museum exhibit, a documentary, and a feature film. Kathryn M. Floyd considers questions of authorship and narration by examining exhibition photographs, specifically those of the Nazi-era exhibit Entartete Kunst taken by photographer Arthur Grimm, and ties exhibition photography to still photography taken on the set of films. Christine Sprengler considers Harun Farocki's 1995 installation Arbeiter verlassen die Fabrik in elf Jahrzehnten, in conversation with the Lumière brothers' film Workers Leaving the Factory (1895) and Farocki's one-screen installation by the same name from 1996. This stand-alone article (i.e., not grouped with others in the volume) nonetheless engages with many of the red threads that link all the articles together: archiving (here, via film), the creation of space for the viewer to enter, the intersection of film and museums, and the didactic function of museum exhibits. The final two essays in the book bring the perspectives of museum curators to the chorus—a wise choice that helps...

From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda: Images of China in American Film by Naomi Greene

Reviewed by: From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda: Images of China in American Film by Naomi Greene Ying Xiao (bio) Naomi Greene. From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda: Images of China in American Film. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2014. 264pp. Hardcover $65.00, isbn 978-0-8248-3835-5. Paperback $25.00, isbn 978-0-8248-3836-2. From the worldwide popular figures of Fu Manchu, Charlie Chan, Kung Fu Panda, and Mulan to famed film classics such as Broken Blossoms, The Good Earth, Shanghai Express, The Manchurian Candidate, and Kundun, Naomi Greene’s From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda: Images of China in American Film is a thorough and brilliant study that pivots toward one central question: how has China been perceived and portrayed in American films from the silent era to this day? The author, thereby, navigates a wide range of significant symptomatic works, figures, and [End Page 115] moments involved in the formation of Hollywood’s view of China and treats the subject carefully with academic rigor, keenness, and compassion. Recent years have seen an expanding scholarship that facilitates and furthers our understanding of the images of China populating America (and other nations), bourgeoning and propelled by ever-important Sino-American relations, massive migration, and global interactions. Greene demonstrates remarkable erudition and familiarity with her case studies, primary sources, and critical readings in the field such as Edward W. Said’s foundational work Orientalism (1979) and Gina Marchetti’s Romance and the “Yellow Peril”: Race, Sex, and Discursive Strategies in Hollywood Fiction (1993). This monograph nonetheless stands out as a truly comprehensive, in-depth inquiry into the intersections of film and history, China and the West, one that, as Greene posits in the opening remark, “explores the historical arc of American film representations of China from the point of view of the tensions between the self and the other, or broader still, those between America and China” (p. 16). From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda is thus informed by a fundamentally historiographical framework, that is, how to read and write about American film history from the vantage point of its varied portrayals and interactions with the racial and national other. How did Hollywood’s perceptions and attitudes toward China and the Chinese, moreover, reveal about the American innermost self? Finally, how were such images shaped by, and in turn how did they shape, the broader social, political, and historical landscape in which they were made? Greene explores these issues from a historical angle with which she is most adept; prior to this piece, she has published a series of essential works on European film and history.1 This latest project further proves Greene as a veteran film historian and an excellent comparatist who alternates and brings together the East and West, and traces the trajectory of Hollywood’s representation of China with great ease and compelling detail. The book comprises six chapters ordered in chronological fashion. In my opinion, it is a fruitful film archaeology project that excavates and chronicles American cinematic appropriation of China corresponding to the shifting social, political, and cultural impulses across different eras. In the first chapter, Greene introduces and maps out the very important role China has played in American history as well as in Hollywood film. The convoluted, century-long relationship is often characterized and complicated by a rather mixed and conflicting sense of fear and fascination. Greene, then, conceptualizes this bifurcated vision of the Chinese otherness as “the pendulum,” which “swing[s] from intensely positive images of China to those that are relentlessly negative” (p. 3). Thus the main thesis of the book can be easily discerned as Greene has clearly pronounced: “like historical documents, films mirror the dramatic shifts of the pendulum, the opposing constellations of images, that have marked the United States’ relationship to China” (p. 10). By innovatively invoking the pendulum trope, the monograph brings vividly to life the vital, unique ways in which China has occupied the American [End Page 116] mind-set. The remainder of the book is, in one way or another, devoted to attesting and elaborating the viability of this metaphor in Hollywood production. However, upon closer...

New Philosophies of Film: Thinking Images

In its exploration of the relationship between image and thought, Robert Sinnerbrink’s new book, New Philosophies of Film: Thinking Images, joins a steadily growing body of work at the intersection of film and philosophy. The past decade has seen the publication of a number of titles in this fertile area, including Kevin Stoehr’s edited collection Film and Knowledge (2002), Richard A. Gilmore’s Doing Philosophy at the Movies (2005), Daniel Frampton’s Filmosophy (2006), Thomas Wartenberg’s Thinking on Screen (2007), Stephen Mulhall’s On Film (2008), Daniel Shaw’s Film and Philosophy (2008), James Phillips’ edited anthology Cinematic Thinking (2008), and The Routledge Companion to Philosophy and Film (2011) edited by Paisley Livingston and Carl Plantinga. New Philosophies of Film canvasses and contributes to this spate of film-meets-philosophy texts that emerged in the wake of the psychoanalytic and ideological theories of film that dominated the 1970s. With a focus on cognitivism, romanticism, film form, and thematic analysis, Sinnerbrink traces the development of philosophical approaches to film from Stanley Cavell’s influential work through to contemporary debates. Sinnerbrink’s critical engagement with key interdisciplinary thinkers provides a thoughtful and sophisticated synthesis of scholarly work spanning film theory and philosophy as he mounts a convincing defence of cinema’s aesthetic significance.

Notes toward an “Open” Conversation on New Media Art and Ending the Politics of Exile

As a curator who works at the intersection of film and or New Media, and like anyone who works in a specific area for a period of time, I regularly come to question what lured me to the field. Medium has always been of interest to me, but I also believe that I came to this generic turf (oft considered a subfield of the visual arts) because of a certain sense of exile I felt when operating within the broader schema. By exile I refer to the sense of being an outsider. Coming from a film and visual arts background, I was not schooled within the conventional mold of an historical discourse (although this has changed through self-education). Indeed, influential media curators from Steve Dietz to Sarah Cook, a colleague who co-runs the Curatorial Resource for Upstart Media Bliss (CRUMB) email list-have observed that new media is like visual art, but with noted differences. The emphasis on processes and networks has been considered divergent or separate from the museological objecthood often theorized in historical discourse. As culture continues to subsume dividends, there evolves a narrative that equally encompasses the travails of a Paris Hilton sex tape and the work of famous YouTube artists such as Marisa Olson and Ryan Trecartin (who directly critique that narrative). Bearing this in mind, I find myself scratching my head at the continued historical subdivisions of so-called Art. My experience at international symposia suggests that the construct of media history in academic discourse has been arced around an obsession with reconciling the relationship between and technology for an audience with so-called high art concerns. To the younger generation of curators: media seems to speak from a position of lack. I refer to lack in the postcolonial sense of the word-a discourse I believe I am well versed in. It is a lack that is built on an Orientalist politics of outright exclusion, based on a very didactic and diametric fear of the Other. For so-called contemporary new media artists and curators, this apparent lack seems all but imagined. We are in control of our fate. Our destiny. What was once our exile is now our source of empowerment. Not tied to binding contracts with private gallery owners, the world as manifest through virtual and cross-embedded screens is our platform, our all-embracing oyster. Why do we need an inherent predisposition that continues to define a narrative of struggle for artists with media-led practices? A narrative that continues to propagate the notion that medium-led practices are held in a separate light from the broader canon of the visual arts and culture? Isn't it anachronistic? The past three decades have materialized in significant ways. We have witnessed the birth of electronic and media departments within universities, as well as international conference series on the subject. They have proliferated in tandem with global capital. But, when culture becomes remixed and hyperlinked, labels become contestable. The capitalization of the words Arts and Electronic Art, for instance, are by their very nature framing devices initiated and applied by an outdated historical movement, whose vernacular has since become especially directed toward a select group of self-subscribing individuals. I would like to take this opportunity to be as polemical as possible. I would like to provoke the thought that these terms and constructs (for example, Art Histories, Electronic Art, New Media) are self-constricting and exiled formations or spaces. These strictures must be shifted to encompass and enable a more fluid formation for the creation of a broader schema. This may be a written or unwritten history, but whatever the case, it must enable a more malleable and open frame for the appropriation of media-based technology and its relationship to visual culture. I know that I, and the many artists I work with, would like to stop living in self-fulfilling exile and self-marginalization. …

Implicational Spectatorship: Hara Setsuko and the Queer Joke

Implicational Spectatorship:Hara Setsuko and the Queer Joke Yuka Kanno (bio) What does it mean to have evidence of someone's sexual activities? of their sexuality? How can one even begin the assumption of that kind of knowledge except through the structures of phantasmatic projection? —Irit Rogoff, "Gossip as Testimony: A Postmodern Signature" The joke is the textual instance, which often seems most coercive in its production of reading effects. —Mary Ann Doane, Femmes Fatales: Feminism, Film Theory, Psychoanalysis To fans of the now classic Japanese cinema of the late 1940s through the 1960s, the name of Hara Setsuko is always evoked with a certain nostalgia. For the younger generation who discovered the "good old Japan" of her postwar films, she is a privileged object of nostalgia, a locus of an imaginary longing for something they never experienced. The myth of this actress as "a goddess of postwar democracy" and "an ideal daughter of the middle class family" is also associated with the name Noriko, given to three separate yet parallel characters Hara plays in the films of Ozu Yasujirō: Late Spring (1949, Banshun), Early Summer (1951, Bakushū), and Tokyo Story (1953, Tōkyō [End Page 287] monogatari). These three films, along with Hara's Garbo-esque disappearance, cemented her image as the timeless and quintessential Ozu actress in Japan's national fantasy. Like many Ozuphiles, I have my own initiation tale. As a latecomer to Tokyo film culture, I watched this trilogy for the first time in the early nineties at Ginza's Namikiza theater.1 That tiny run-down theater, a now-destroyed landmark of Japanese cinema art houses, also introduced me to Naruse Mikio, nourishing my pleasure and imaginary nostalgia. Like many others, I was struck by Hara Setsuko, not so much by her legendary beauty as with what I can only now call a "queer" feeling, and the onscreen manner in which she evoked a seemingly conservative image of femininity. There was something odd, uncanny, and extravagant about the actress: the way she refused to marry, then suddenly changed her mind, and the extremely intimate manner in which she touched other women's bodies. The next two films of the Noriko trilogy continued to awaken the same feelings. Only now and retrospectively can I make sense of such an "illegitimate" sentiment that I strongly felt but was unable to then form into meaning. This essay explores the possibility of queer spectatorship by "implication," in which I take up the Noriko trilogy as an intersection of film, actress, and audience. By implication, I want to address the historicity of the present viewer, whose specificity is no less important than that of the past text. Instead of recreating the unified, closed, past world of the text and the spectator of the time, I insert my "now" with its desire to read the past film. My arguments for bridging the historical and temporal gap between the Noriko texts and the present condition are indebted to the notion of renrui (implication) proposed by Tessa Morris-Suzuki, who calls up the responsibility of those who "have not stolen land from others, but who live on stolen land."2 Therefore, what I do here is reconstitute the queerness of the past film text and the Noriko character in the present. Rather than confining the meanings of the past text to its contemporaneous spectator, it is my hope to open it up to the present spectator, thus making the former relevant to the latter. The term "implication" signals such a temporal and historical specificity of reading. Conversely, I am interested in the ways in which the rereading of the Noriko text helps present-day spectators to imagine a past queer spectatorship. Within film studies, the disciplinary master narrative of the 1980s "paradigm shift" around spectatorship theory is typically cast as a move from institutional theories (both apparatus and textual) to historical or empirical [End Page 288] studies of reception.3 Not only are the text and the viewer severed within this narrative, but the spectator is also divided into the conceptual and real. Following the lead of Judith Mayne, I use the term "spectator" to signify the point of tension between the cinematic...

American history and contemporary Hollywood film

major thesis of this challenging, stimulating book rests on the proposition that the historical record is not fixed, inviolate, and unchanging. Both thoughtful and engaging scholars, McCrisken and Pepper reach fascinating, provocative conclusions. Those interested in the intersection of film and history will appreciate this unique study. Essential.-Choice Magazine Hollywood has always been fascinated by America's past, but never more so than in the past fifteen years. Bringing exciting new perspectives to how and why Hollywood has sought to repicture American history, this book offers analysis of more than twenty mainstream contemporary films, including The Patriot, Amistad, Glory, Ride with the Devil, Cold Mountain, Saving Private Ryan, The Thin Red Line, Pearl Harbor, U-571, Platoon, Born on the Fourth of July, Heaven and Earth, JFK, Nixon, Malcolm X, Ali, Black Hawk Down, and Three Kings. Both authoritative and engaging, American History and Contemporary Hollywood Film is the first book to comprehensively explore the post-cold war period of filmmaking, and to navigate the complex ways that film mediates history-sometimes challenging or questioning, but more frequently reaffirming traditional interpretations. The authors consider why such films are becoming increasingly integral to the ambitions of a globally focused American film industry. Structured by historical periods, chapters cover significant events and eras such as the American Revolution, slavery and the Civil War, World War II, the sixties and seventies, civil rights and black nationalism, the Vietnam War, and post-cold war global conflicts. The lessons learned from the examples will be illuminating for general readers and college students alike. Trevor McCrisken is lecturer in American politics and international studies at the University of Warwick. He is the author of American Exceptionalism and the Legacy of Vietnam: US Foreign Policy Since 1974. Andrew Pepper is lecturer in English and American literature at Queen's University, Belfast. He is the author of The Contemporary American Crime Novel.