Story Of Film Research Articles

Documenting the Garifuna

Introductionrichard leacock, well-known visual anthropologist, explored how camera functions as an unblinking observer, allowing stories to tell themselves - to convey, as he was fond of saying, the sense of being there.1 While a camera often appears as a fly on wall, there are underlying biases that must be addressed, as anthropologist Jay Ruby suggests: a postpositive and postmodern world, camera is constrained by culture of person behind apparatus: that is, films, photographs are always concerned with two things - culture of those filmed and culture of those who film.2Documentary filmmaking is not objective, or at least no more objective than any other visual and storytelling media. In process of collecting footage, filmmaker regularly chooses which images to capture in frame and which to omit. In edit room, filmmaker further manipulates footage through selection and shaping of material that adheres to film's story. Without such filters, viewers would be left watching reels of unstructured, even amorphous material. How documentary filmmakers tell stories is as diverse as ways in which authors write essays and novels. And various filmmakers collecting footage of same events and/or individuals will ultimately tell very different stories. Renowned filmmaker Frederick Wiseman's observational scenes, comprised of long cinema-verite sequences, contrast sharply with Michael Moore's more heavy-handed first-person narrations and faster-paced scenes. In case of Nanook of North, Robert Flaherty, who is considered by many as father of documentary filmmaking, reconstructs scenes entirely to give audience an idealised view of his subjects. 3 All of these filmmakers are considered extremely effective at documentary storytelling. Yet none can be regarded as capturing 'the truth'.While I place my work within context of visual anthropology, I do so with understanding that I am trained as an artist, not as a scientist. I am a filmand videomaker involved in creative documentation while exploring, celebrating and observing distinct cultures. The goal of my work is to inform and enlighten while increasing tolerance and diminishing fear and tension between cultures. I work collaboratively with members of individual communities providing a forum in which to voice untold stories, personal challenges and compelling triumphs. Social, artistic and political actions are observed within broader cultural contexts, asking viewers to confront myths and uncover new perspectives. This is my process as a visual anthropologist and my mission as an artist.Documenting GarifunaWhile considering above issues, I have, over thirty years, developed a method of producing and directing films with and about Garifuna communities in Central America and Caribbean. I refer to this method as 'insider/outsider' collaboration. The method becomes a dialogue between practitioners and tradition-bearers of Garifuna culture (insiders), and observer/ filmmaker (outsider). The result of this dialogue is dialectical: able to hold and convey multiple perspectives, speak broadly to larger audiences, and create media that is more dimensional than either insider or outsider could produce alone.As an outsider, I often choose to document seemingly ordinary details in my work: a mother braiding her daughter's hair, a pot on stove, or a recipe for fish soup. Often when I am collecting this kind of material, a community member will be surprised (even amused) by my attention and perhaps reflect on object in a different light. I often consult with and collaborate with insiders who point me toward significant individuals in community from whom to collect deeper oral histories. Through this process, I continually engage community in creation of a film.This is not to say that process is always smooth. Differences of opinion occasionally ignite, resulting in heated discussions. …

The Princess Story: Modeling the Feminine in Twentieth-Century American Fiction and Film SarahRothschild. New York: Peter Lang, 2013.

The Princess Story: Modeling Feminine in Twentieth-Century American Fiction and Film Sarah Rothschild. New York: Peter Lang, 2013.Princesses have won attention of little girls, creating a phenomenon that many find troubling. In The Princess Story, Sarah Rothschild offers a historical account of princess stories in fiction and film, arguing that they form an important subgenre of fairy tales that influences and educates American females throughout their lives. Rothschild contends that the figure of princess has five primary incarnations from five different eras, three belonging to feminists of different waves and two belonging to Disney Studios, whose patriarchal princess stories serve as counterpoint and resistance to feminist creations (2). She uses princess story to chart American culture's changing meanings of and its struggle between feminism and patriarchy, progress and tradition.Rothschild begins with a chapter defining princess story and messages it sends. The princess character, she writes, embodies extreme femininity and reflects and inculcates socially desirable behavior and beliefs in and about girls and women in culture that produces (1-2). Princess stories teach and reinforce gender roles at pivotal times in lives of girls and women. According to Rothschild, at transitional times in developmentsuch as toddlerhood, early adolescence, marriage, and birth of a child or grandchild-females may experience gender intensification that draws them to princess stories. Thus, princess tales affect women and their perceptions of themselves over course of their lifetimes. They also reflect shifting ideology of a culture. As historian Miriam Forman-Brunell notes, Historically, princess worship has emerged during periods of uncertainty and profound social change (13).Rothschild's first chapter, Little Princess-. A First-Wave Feminist Girl, focuses on Frances Hodgson Burnett's 1905 novel featuring Cinderella story of Sara Crewe who moves from riches to rags and back again. Her story, like other princess tales, offers lessons on what makes an exemplary girl. However, Rothschild argues that Sara's story is no simple Cinderella tale because her strong sense of identity and intentionally cultivated qualities of character and imaginative power make a princess worth emulating, both within and without world of book (15). Although Frances Hodgson Burnett is not typically categorized as a feminist, life, which coincides with years of first-wave feminism, embodies qualities associated with it: determination, independence, and a strong self-perception. She infuses Sara with these same characteristics, making story a prototype for princess stories to come.Disney's first princess stories, topic of Rothschild's second chapter, reflect mind of their creator, Walt Disney. In analysis of Disney's Snow White and Seven Dwarfs (1937), Cinderella (1950), and Sleeping Beauty (1959), Rothschild argues that feminism takes a step backward. She contends that these films were created by a man with a conservative world view; they combine elements of traditional fairy tales with mid-twentieth century traditional mores to valorize his conservative agenda (54). …

Two Hundred Years After Once Upon a Time: The Legacy of the Brothers Grimm and Their Tales in Germany

Because there have been excellent studies about the influence and heritage of the Grimms’ tales up to 1990—I am thinking here of Donald Haase’s edited book The Reception of Grimms’ Fairy Tales—in this essay I focus on the legacy of the Grimms’ tales in the German sociocultural context of the last twenty years. I discuss some of the more recent popular manifestations of their stories in German literature and film and then move on to an analysis of scholarly studies that, in contrast to popular culture, have grounded the legacy of the Grimms in substantial ways. In the conclusion I argue that English-speaking scholars who study the Grimms’ fairy tales should be paying more attention to the interrelationship between philology and narratology in the Grimms’ collection of folktales.

Америчка кинематографија о српском језику у Босни и Херцеговини

The paper focused on the linguistic analysis of two American feature films and on what they could confirm in the sociohistorical and cultural senses of the word. Those are the films Behind Enemy Lines (2001) and The Hunting Party (2007), which were distributed worldwide, and broadcast on various TV stations and their channels. The paper offers an analysis of modest film sections in Serb language, more precisely – in the language here selected to represent “Serbian“, in the way its speakers (actors) were instructed to represent the Serbs. Linguistic analysis indicates that the language represented in these films has served the purpose of the already habitual policy of the West towards the Serbs and the Serb language. Following its own geopolitical interests in the Balkans, that policy has always tended to minimise the Serb ethnic and linguistic area and limit it to Serbia, more precisely, to its central parts. Therefore the language of the actors playing Serbs in these Bosnian film stories was organised in such a way that they linguistically (ekavisms, da + present construction, etc.) and in every other sense represent newcomers, more exactly – the aggressors coming from Serbia, and not the Bosnia-Herzegovinian Serbs who have lived in Bosnia and Herzegovina since the first Serb settlements appeared in the Balkans.

Lincoln

Lincoln tells three stories at once. One of them is top notch, the second is pretty good, and the third is farcical. Did this happen by chance or design? Whoever had the idea for this multiple plotting—Steven Spielberg the director, Tony Kushner the screenplay writer, or Doris Kearns Goodwin, the author of the book (Team of Rivals, 2005) from which the film's story mainly derives—Lincoln's storytelling diversity is its strength and its weakness. The playwright Kushner discussed his understanding of Abraham Lincoln and the film's depiction of history with Henry Louis Gates (in the film Looking for Lincoln [2009]) prior to Lincoln's U.S. release. Kushner said the film does not “get at some kind of core truth. It's not history.” Gates asked Kushner, “What kind of hero do you think our generation wants in Abraham Lincoln? And does Tony Kushner want?” Kushner responded, I'd feel good...

Istanbul International Film Festival 2012

ISTANBUL 2012 April was the cruellest month of the year for Istanbul this spring, with incessant rains and cold weather, which increased the attendance figures at the cinemas. The festival (31 March-15 April, 2012) celebrated its 31st anniversary with an eclectic program of features and documentaries, relying heavily on European products as customary, except for a martial arts package, the Chinese wuxia films. Due to its belated date in the festival calendar, Istanbul suffers from paucity of new films, but it is a feast for the local cinephiles with its wide spectrum of selections including feature films of the year, classics, masterpieces from masters, festival favorites, National Golden Tulip, International Golden Tulip and FACE Human Rights Competitions, documentaries, and children’s movies. This year’s additions were Cinema and Music, Filming Revolution, What’s Happening in Greece?, Within the Family and a 15-hour special view of Mark Cousins’s The Story of Film: An...

The Story of Film

Anyone who has ever tried to write a history of cinema knows what a daunting task it is. Once upon a time, perhaps, a single person might aspire to knowing all that could be known about the subject. That day has long since passed. Yet in theory, that is precisely what the author of any work called The Story of Film implicitly claims: that he or she knows all, and will from that vast store of knowledge distill for us what is most significant, what we need to know and experience for ourselves. So, an impossible task from the outset. Yet as the author starts to ask some essential questions, things come into focus a bit. Firstly, who is the work intended for? Are you writing it for yourself? Or for people like yourself, educated, even erudite connoisseurs of cinema? Or for that great unknown, the general public? In the booklet accompanying the DVDs of the Channel 4 series, Mark Cousins says that his preceding book, also called The Story of Film (Pavilion, 2004), was aimed at ‘‘a general audience, and young people.’’ But the TV series is clearly not for those who know nothing. Technical acronyms are not always explained (DP, for instance, or POV), and analyses of sequences, though often fascinating, can be complex and demanding. The question of the audience is vital, since you are forced all the time to make assumptions about what the audience might be expected to know already and do not need to be told, and what they will appreciate having explained to them. You don’t want to patronize, and you don’t want to mystify. If you know exactly who you are writing for, that’s a big help. My guess is that this work is made for people who are not put off by a film having subtitles, who as well as enjoying commercial movies have a passing acquaintance with contemporary European art cinema. They may have seen films by Almodovar or Haneke (though the former doesn’t get more than a brief nod from Cousins), but perhaps have only a vague idea of cinema in Africa, South America, or India; people, in short, who know enough to think it might be interesting to find out more. Once you have your target audience, you need to decide the framework. The title of this work is an indication of the approach; ‘‘story’’ suggests a chronology—a beginning, middle, and end, even if cinema itself has not ended. So Cousins elects for a comparatively straightforward structure, dividing the century and a bit of cinema up into decades and moving steadily ahead, starting at the beginning with the Lumiere brothers, ending with some speculation about what the cinema of the future might be like. Fortunately he doesn’t treat this schema as a straitjacket, and allows himself to flit around, making connections forward or back as seem appropriate. If you have a story, it needs to have a lesson. Cousins declares that his theme is innovation. He will tell the story in terms of individuals’ contributions towards the advancement of technique, technology, and artistry. And within that overarching theme he identifies two centripetal tendencies in film; the opposition between fantasy and reality (as often in film history, Melies and Lumiere are advanced as contrasting exemplars), and between romanticism and classicism. It’s as well that Cousins doesn’t apply any of these terms very rigorously, bringing them in when it suits him, but forgetting about them most of the time; for in truth, they are all so vague as to be incapable of structuring a work so large and various as Cousins has produced. ‘‘Innovation’’ can mean pretty much anything he wants it to mean, or he can forget about it entirely. Romanticism has a fairly precise meaning in the history of literature; in cinema it’s not at all clear if it means anything beyond a liking for strong emotions. Other terms occasionally bandied about, such as ‘‘expressionism’’ and ‘‘impressionism,’’ are similarly hard to pin down in a cinematic context. But this doesn’t matter much; the virtue of this work is entirely in its detail, in what it says about particular films and filmmakers, not in the metadiscourse it occasionally tries to construct about the history of cinema. That’s not to say Cousins doesn’t have a point of view. What comes across most strongly, and this is the true value of the enterprise, is his determined attempt to get away from the perceived bias of the mental framework governing how we in the West see cinema. One of the questions

Salome's Modernity: Oscar Wilde and the Aesthetics of Transgression (review)

Reviewed by: Salome's Modernity: Oscar Wilde and the Aesthetics of Transgression S. I. Salamensky Salome's Modernity: Oscar Wilde and the Aesthetics of Transgression. Petra Dierkes-Thrun. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2011. Pp. 247. $65.00 (cloth). For every "Oscar Wilde" may be found infinite other Wildes. Enigma, paradox, and multiplicity were his stock in trade. He was, among many other things, a remarkably accomplished dilettante, meeting success of various degrees with a relatively scant but remarkable oeuvre of public lectures, poems, essays, epigrams, a novel, short stories, and plays, not only ranging across genres but hybridizing a vast array of historic and contemporary models and styles. Indeed, it was precisely the undecidability of his work and life that fueled his fame, and his notoriety. That was both cultivated and not; he wrote intensively but sporadically, in between competing distractions. His pithy epigrams, with their tricksy doublings and inversions—some of which were read aloud, in one of the trials that would lead to his "gross indecency" conviction, as evidence of dangerously deviant thought structures, both in content and in form—were deftly engineered for productive perplexity. Yet many of his other works, such as the play Salome, combine hodgepodge conflicting impulses and far-flung influences in a manner indicating less evident design. The same may be said in terms of his career at large: heuristically, he tended [End Page 621] to seize upon what worked, or seemed as if it ought to work, at a given moment, then to move on to the next plan. For over a century, artistic interpreters and critics have labored to impose order upon the chaotic collection of works, traits, and ideologies adherent to Wilde, casting him variously as an Irish radical, an Anglophilic runaway, an ardent socialist, a crass capitalist, an unregenerate elitist, and more. It is a testament to his inconsistency that few can be proven fully wrong or right. Pegging Wilde as anything, at all, is a difficult task. The author of this lively, expansive investigation energetically takes on the challenge, claiming a formative position in the modern canon for Salome, Wilde's flamboyant, hyper-sexual, gory tragedy—first mounted privately in Paris in 1896, while Wilde was in jail—as well as for its seductive, self-actualized eponymous woman protagonist and for the later echoes of the Salome story and character in music, dance, film, and popular culture. The book begins with an argument about the play itself: that "simply looking at Salome in . . . [its] nineteenth-century context disregards [its] truly innovative, subversive, forward-looking features" (16)—features that would form the foundation of a "modernist aesthetics of transgression" through the twentieth century and the first decade of our own (2). It then proceeds to an intricate analysis of the 1905 opera Richard Strauss based on the play, explicating problems of what one critic has discussed as the incongruous conglomeration of Wilde's "delicate" fin-de-siècle text with Strauss's "brutal" modernist score (56). Two following chapters—on Maud Allen's loose 1908 adaptation of the play to modern dance, which led to the sensational Pemberton-Billing obscenity case, and on Russian émigré star Alla Nazimova's 1923 transformation of the play into a cross-gendering, exoticist, bizarre fantasia of a film—provide a great wealth of historical information on fascinating, under-studied phenomena. The final chapter, a look at appearances of Wilde, the play, and the Salome character in popular culture since the 1980s, well traces the ways in which these have come to reflect and to be utilized in discourse surrounding queer and feminist issues in the contemporary age. The book is especially useful as a semi-comprehensive study of modern and postmodern incarnations of the Salome tale and figure. While not all instances are covered—an endeavor handled ably by William Tydeman and Steven Price in their solid reference volume, Wilde: Salome,1 and less so by Toni Bentley in the strenuously salacious Sisters of Salome2—the in-depth analysis accorded those that are covered provides a firm structure for examining related cases. Wilde—who died in 1900 at forty-seven years old, shortly after his release—remains the most iconic...

Somewhere in Europe (1947): Locating Hungary within a shifting geopolitical landscape

ABSTRACTSomewhere in Europe/Valahol Európában (Radványi, 1947) was one of the first films made in Hungary after 1945. Financed by the Hungarian Communist Party (MKP), it loudly proclaimed a broad European pertinence in an effort to privilege the universal narrative of childhoods disrupted by the war over narrowly national political concerns. The film's story of a gang of half-starved children battling for survival in a bombed-out Central European landscape places it squarely within a transnational post-war film-making tradition. Similarities with both Italian neorealism and Soviet socialist realist cinema indicate a shared European experience of the war, but is also attributable to the international training and experience of the film's personnel. The director Radványi had worked in the Italian industry, while the scriptwriter was the well-known film theorist Béla Balázs, who had worked in Weimar Germany and Soviet Russia. This article argues that in spite of its ostensible commitment to a communist and humanist ideology, the film gives an insight into the Hungarian national obsession with territorial integrity. Hungary's participation in World War II on the side of the Axis, and its position as a defeated nation under Allied occupation, are seen to complicate the film text. This article contends that in spite of its transnational flavour, the film's focus on lost children wandering in a borderless Europe suggests a preoccupation with the country's uncertain position within a shifting geopolitical landscape. In turn, the film's official reading by Nemeskürty shows an eagerness to accept the film's representation of Hungary as a blameless victim of the war, and gives evidence of a need to insert a (false) break between the country's wartime past as a member of the Axis, and the country's 1968 present as a member of the Communist world order.

Civil Rights, Labor, and Sexual Politics on Screen in <em>Nothing But a Man</em> (1964)

The independently made 1964 film Nothing But a Man is one of a handful of films whose production coincided with new civil rights insurgency and benefited from activists' input. Commonly listed in 1970s surveys of black film, the film lacks sustained critical attention in film studies or in-depth historical analysis given its significance as a landmark text of the 1960s. Documentary-like, but not a documentary, it offers a complex representation of black life, but it was scripted, directed, and filmed by two white men, Michael Roemer and Robert Young. This essay argues that the film's unusual attention to labor and gender politics as key elements both of racial subordination and liberation resulted from an unusual and productive, though not egalitarian, collaboration across racial lines. The white and Jewish filmmakers recognized the black freedom struggle in the U.S. South as part of World War II-era mobilizations against fascism and postwar challenges to colonialism around the world. The filmmakers viewed black struggles for justice, dignity, and self-respect as integral to achieving a just society for everyone, which shaped how they conceived the social and familial effects of racialization and the cultural dynamics of white supremacy. Centering their film story on the struggles of a black couple drew on progressive strategies from the 1940s and 1950s to represent ordinary people as exemplary citizens. Roemer and Young also had unusual access to the political debates of black activists because of Young's recent work filming television documentaries in Nashville and in Angola. Thus, Nothing But a Man offers a rare glimpse into shifting relations between race and labor and between political economy and gender as the civil rights movement took shape.

Narration and film music diegetic and non-diegetic music in film

In analyses of music and film interaction, the interpretative approach to film music has usually been given through the picture and music/ sound relation. It has been considered predominantly through the prism of mimetic theories that take the act of visualization for their model. Such a simplification is mirrored in the classic distinction of source music and background music. We can note that the term source music refers solely to its representing function, not the narrative one. A turn in defining film music also in relation to narration and not only and specifically in relation to picture, was the merit of Claudia Gorbman, an American theorist. In her study Unheard melodies she re-systematizes the interpretative practice introducing the theory of narration into it. By using one of the key terms in film theory, diegesis, she constructed the terms diegetic and non-diegetic music, which refer to the sound/ music scene: the first one would, approximately be equivalent to source music, and the second one to background score. Diegetic music is seen through the dialectic structure made of two planes, the narrative (film story) and narration (the process through which the narrative is conveyed to the viewer/ listener), and whose constituents are music and picture, i.e. their fluctuating relation. Non-diegetic music is the one whose source is beyond the frame both explicitly and implicitly, but it has a meaningful relation to the film story. This text considers the ways in which music, diegetic or non-diegetic, participates in narration, i.e. performs not only the representative function but the narrative one as well, within a complex structure of a film system, based on examples from national and world cinematography.

Come: An investigation of the female gaze

What is it about Come that makes it feel refreshing – both artistically and storywise? My hypothesis is that the female main character is given a male gaze and this gives her more power and acting space in the film story than is usually the case for female roles in classical narrative cinema.

Toronto International Film Festival 2011

HIGHLIGHTS FROM THE TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL 2011 Programming for TIFF's 36th edition (8-18 September 2011) was suitably taut and continued its pragmatic fixation on politically dominant cinemas, but the routine also allowed some room for bold selections, notably in the inclusion of Mark Cousins' epic 15-hour documentary, The Story of Film: An Odyssey, along with Lav Diaz's challenging 6-hour drama, Century of Birthing. In its third year, the 'City to City' section looked to Buenos Aires and premiered ten new titles to highlight the vigour of contemporary Argentine cinema. And although Toronto rashly abandoned its short-lived Southeast Asian section some years ago, it was ironic that Southeast Asia enjoyed its best presence ever at the festival. For the first time by sheer coincidence, the event's extensive line-up berthed at least one representative film from (or about) the region's largest states: Indonesia, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam....

Bruce Robbins, Upward Mobility and the Common Good: Toward a Literary History of the Welfare StateUpward Mobility and the Common Good: Toward a Literary History of the Welfare State. Bruce Robbins . Princeton, NJ, and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2007. Pp. xviii+304.

<i>Bruce Robbins,</i> Upward Mobility and the Common Good: Toward a Literary History of the Welfare State<i>Upward Mobility and the Common Good: Toward a Literary History of the Welfare State</i>. Bruce Robbins . Princeton, NJ, and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2007. Pp. xviii+304.

Nomad for export, not for domestic consumption: Kazakhstan's arrested endeavour to ‘put the country on the map’

ABSTRACTConcepts such as ‘branding’ and ‘image-making’ hitherto confined to the corporate domain have recently become popular among nation states, guiding their public diplomacy projects. This article examines one of those projects: the epic film Nomad (2005). A grandiose state-sponsored endeavour, this film was designed to introduce Kazakhstan, its people and its history to the world and to brand the country as a creative modern economy. However, once released, Nomad made little impact in the public consciousness and proved unsuccessful not only internationally but also domestically. This raised the question of the reasons for the failure of such a costly cinematic effort. This article addresses the question at what juncture of conception or production precisely did the film lose its viewers. To this end the film's story is situated within both Kazakh past and present cultural milieus in order to explain both the state's branding choices and missed opportunities.

Brand‐self identity narratives in the James Bond movies

AbstractConsumers learn to attach social and contextual meaning to products and brands through observing the character relationships with particular objects or specific brands in the archetypal stories in film on “the big screen” (cinema). Luxury brands become objects of desire, fueling consumer aspirations and giving consumers frames of reference in their own consumption ideals. However, substantial research attention to the brand narratives that popular culture portrays has yet to emerge. This paper therefore presents a textual analysis of the brand narratives evident within popular culture, specifically in the context of James Bond films. In taking this interpretive approach, this article identifies three different and contrasting brand‐self narratives that reinforce a particular archetypal myth of a lover, hero, or outlaw. © 2010 Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

The physical and emotional threads of the archetypal hero's journey: proposing common terminology and re-examining the narrative model

This article will discuss how, in mainstream film screenplays, the protagonist undergoes both an actual, physical journey and an internal, emotional journey, pulled together by the invisible hand of the screenwriter in order to create the complete narrative experience. Central to the article is an evaluation of how character transformation (arc) is positioned against physical action (plot), arguing that the two can be mapped out as individual yet symbiotic threads of a narrative: the physical and the emotional journeys. After mapping the territory of what is already written on this subject, the works of Joseph Campbell and his protg Christopher Vogler (Clayton 2007: 210) will be drawn together to offer a re-examination of the model of the Hero's Journey. Assessing these two narrative threads (physical and emotional) as both distinct and symbiotic, it will be clear that a special relationship exists between plot and character, where character transformation is encouraged to take place within the frame of the physical action of the plot. The substance of such a transformation, the emotional core of the narrative experience, is what lives on in the audience, post-text; the physical action of a film story may frame emotion, but emotion has the power to break the frame and take on a life of its own.

미디어 콘텐츠의 장르 간 영역 이동에 관한 연구 : 드라마와 영화, 뮤지컬을 중심으로

최근 들어 미디어 콘텐츠의 영역 이동이 그 어느 때 보다 활발하게 진행되고 있다. 각각의 미디어들은 그것이 TV든, 영화든, 뮤지컬이든, 애니메이션이든 상품의 형태는 다르지만, 킬러 스토리를 차용하여 개별 미디어의 특성에 맞게 포장하고 있다는 점에서 콘텐츠 비즈니스의 새로운 국면을 열고 있다고 해도 과언이 아니다. 이 연구에서는 이러한 추세에 부응하기 위해 동종 장르 또는 이종 장르간의 리메이크 제작 양상을 살펴보고자 하였다. 분석 대상 장르는 드라마와 영화, 뮤지컬이며, 네이버 검색 엔진과 각 방송사, 영화진흥위원회, 인터파크 홈페이지에서 추출된 자료를 토대로 최종 61편의 리메이크 작품을 선정하였다. 연구 방법으로는 빈도 분석과 교차 분석을 실시하였으며, 연도별, 장르 유형별, 거래 유형별 빈도 차이를 살펴보고자 하였다. 분석 결과, 2006년 이후 리메이크 제작이 급증하고 있는 것으로 나타났으며, 장르로는 드라마와 영화가 원천 장르로 제공되고 있었고, 동종 장르간의 리메이크 제작이 가장 많다는 것을 알 수 있다. 특히, 영화 장르는 다양한 리메이크 제작의 소스가 되고 있으며, 최근 증가하고 있는 리메이크 뮤지컬의 주요 원천인 것으로 나타났다. Recently, media contents are moving frequently between different media. TV, film, musical or animation, adapt killer story to each other. This tends to develop the new possibility of distribution of media contents. This study will analyse the trend of content industry. Particularly, we will focus on TV dramas, films and musicals : 61 samples have been extracted by Naver website. As a result, remakes have been increased since 2006. TV dramas and films have been used the most for source genres. Particularly, the story of films have been transferred for almost every genres including musicals.

DVD Chronicle: The Graham Greene Film Reader: Reviews, Essays, Interviews and Film Stories , and: Agee on Film: Criticism and Comment on the Movies , and: The General Died at Dawn , and: Pépé le Moko , and: Hands of Orlac , and: Ninotchka (review)

Reviewed by: DVD Chronicle: The Graham Greene Film Reader: Reviews, Essays, Interviews and Film Stories, and: Agee on Film: Criticism and Comment on the Movies, and: The General Died at Dawn, and: Pépé le Moko, and: Hands of Orlac, and: Ninotchka Jefferson Hunter (bio) The Graham Greene Film Reader: Reviews, Essays, Interviews and Film Stories, edited by David Parkinson (Applause Books, 2000); Agee on Film: Criticism and Comment on the Movies (Modern Library, 2000); The General Died at Dawn, directed by Lewis Milestone (in the Gary Cooper Collection, Universal, 2005); Pépé le Moko, directed by Julien Duvivier (Criterion, 2003); Hands of Orlac, also known as Mad Love, directed by Karl Freund (in the Hollywood's Legends of Horror Collection, Warner Home Video, 2006); Ninotchka, directed by Ernst Lubitsch (Warner Home Video, 2005). Of that large number of twentieth-century authors who wrote film reviews on the side, whether for a little extra money or for the pleasure of exploring another art form, who were the best, the most perceptive? My vote would go to Graham Greene and James Agee. In England, Greene reviewed films steadily through the 1930s, for the Spectator and for Night and Day, the weekly that tried to be London's counter-part to The New Yorker, had a glittering six-month run, then went out of business—a demise accompanied by the successful lawsuit brought against Greene by the nine-year-old Shirley Temple, who resented his calling her, in the course of a pan of her 1937 film Wee Willie Winkie, "a fancy little piece . . . a complete totsy." In the 1930s Greene also wrote his first screenplays and saw the first screen adaptation of one of his own fictions (Orient Express): it was the start of what would be a nearly career-long involvement with the cinema. In America, Agee did his film reviewing in the 1940s, for The Nation and Time, an experience later to be useful in writing his screenplays for The African Queen (1951) and The Night of the Hunter (1955) and in the meantime catering to his love for the cinema. That love could be backward-looking, nostalgic, as in his famous Life magazine piece "Comedy's Greatest Era," on the lost art of American silent comedy, but Agee had his enthusiasms for films of the moment, too. And his amused disdain: in a 1945 review for The Nation, he sums up the Shirley Temple vehicle Kiss and Tell in terms nearly as contemptuous as Greene's ("the audience, pimpishly helped out by the camera . . . develops an almost pathological interest in the girl's hind quarters"); Agee and The Nation escaped without litigation. The pleasure of browsing through Greene's and Agee's reviews can be fully indulged in two collections, The Graham Greene Film Reader: Reviews, [End Page 587] Essays, Interviews and Film Stories, edited by David Parkinson, and Agee on Film: Criticism and Comment on the Movies, in Martin Scorsese's new series Modern Library the Movies. For anyone interested in the art of criticism, I recommend a prolonged immersion in Greene's and Agee's prose, and for anyone interested in the art of film, a willingness to follow their leads to what, sixty or seventy years later, is still worth watching. One could do worse than take them as guides to old movies, which is what I propose to do with Greene here (on a later occasion, I will do the same with Agee). Nowadays, of course, films of the 1930s have to be seen on DVD, rather than in what Greene called "the Pleasure Dome—all those Empires and Odeons of a luxury and a bizarre taste which we shall never see again." Often enough we're lucky that there are DVDs to watch: many of Greene's favorites are out of print or otherwise unattainable. We must take on trust his estimation of the Soviet propaganda film We from Kronstadt or Jacques Feyder's English melodrama Knight Without Armour, William Wyler's These Three or Jack Conway's The Trunk Murder ("a comedy of astonishing intelligence and finish"). Even so important a film in its day as Buñuel's documentary Land Without...

Renewal or Betrayal? An Experiment in Reflecting Welsh Identity at St Fagans: National History Museum

Oriel 1 is a new gallery at St Fagans: National History Museum that opened in March 2007. The aim was to create a thought-provoking gallery that explores the meaning of being Welsh though the use of objects, photography, film, art and personal stories. The first exhibition at Oriel 1 is Perthyn/Belonging. This exhibition examines the theme of Welsh identities and demonstrates that there are many different ways of being part of Wales. The exhibition has been created with local communities, schools, authors, painters and poets.