Is nihilism ever portrayed in a positive light by filmmakers? Rarely. Perhaps this has to do with general misconceptions (and valid disagreements) about what nihilism means. I intend to deal specifically with existential nihilism as a philosophical modus vivendi; as not necessarily a negative form of social apathy, but rather an existential approach to life. As the films discussed are usually not primarily nihilist in theme, I've coined the term cinema d sol(cinema of desolation) to outline films that fit a larger genre but may not be essentially nihilist. Cinema d sol , then, deserves a treatment of its own, which I'll get to later.
It is not uncommon for films that contain nihilist characters to be impossible to categorize as nihilist works. In Deprisa Deprisa (Carlos Saura, 1981), the nihilism of the young criminals is portrayed as a consequence of a Spain they have no power to change. In fact, the "juvenile delinquents" or strident young nihilists yearn for a bourgeois lifestyle, constantly playing at being responsible adults, with desires for the apartment of their own, coupledom, the sporty car, the ice-making refrigerator, the color TV. These material desires have never been obtainable by their social class, as is made didactically clear in the case of the grandmother who upon receiving her color TV (a gift of criminal proceeds) says it's what she's always dreamed of. These "delinquents" would love to choose life. They just don't have the slightest opportunity to make that kind of choice. The wants exist, though, and so they do what they can to have what they want in a world where they have, and are given, absolutely nothing to live for; not even material happiness. So they take by force to obtain the life you have. Paradoxically, to have a remote chance of fitting into society, they attack it. They are nihilists by force and lack of choice, which is, perhaps, not really the makings of nihilists after all.
Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973) is one of the ultimate portrayals of a nihilist character. The film, which unfolds like a strange dream, depicts Kit (Martin Sheen) as an archetype of existential nihilism, the kind of character you would expect to find in philosophical allegory. Malick has said that this is a fairy tale story. Is the film itself nihilist? Again, I don't think so. The audience is distanced from Kit through the use of Sissy Spacek's voice over narration. There are times the camera itself questions Kit's modus vivendi and also his sanity. Malick is far more subtle than some filmmakers who deal with nihilistic characters, but the camera itself seems to question the validity of Kit's choices. Compared to other treatments of nihilism in cinema, however, you're left with the impression that perhaps Malick isn't trying to force a decision about Kit at all. Malick being a disciple of Arthur Penn, comparisons of this film to Bonnie and Clyde come to mind.
Films that are as nihilistic in outlook as their protagonists are somewhat less common. Often, films close in spirit to existential nihilism tend to be better described, in my opinion, as "cinema d sol ". These films of desolation are common in Japanese post-war New Wave cinema. Thematically, these films tend to focus on Japanese culture and society, with nihilism a depictive means to an end instead of an end in itself. Kinji Fukasaku's brutal revisionist yakuza films of the 1970s, such as the five features of the Yakuza Papers series, are often viewed as nihilistic with their violent characters and unredemptive endings. In revising earlier approaches to the genre, where the gangsters were idealized as heroes, Fukasaku's primary goal was to deconstruct the myth and show the dark side of nihilism's excesses. But Fukasaku is never particularly judgmental, and every character has shades of grey, which is perhaps what makes a film like Battle Royale (2000) so successful despite its seemingly B-movie content. Instead, Fukasaku forces you witness the violence and make your own judgments about a world which allows these inhumanities to exist. Fukasaku's camera often seems to be screaming out a welcome to the real world with his sudden flourishes of violence and freeze frame brutality characterized in a pathetic and base manner that lends the violence a hyper-real quality.
In the nihilist's favor, there are few moments in Fukasaku's films that directly challenge the audience's perception of the nihilist hero except by virtue of his own actions. Fukasaku's supporting characters in these films are just as selfish and desperate as his protagonists. This is an important distinction. Actor Bunta Sugawara's characters are not singled out as a lone nihilist the way Kit is in Badlands. But this doesn't necessarily mean the two filmmakers are in disagreement over the actions of their nihilist characters. And in some of these films there exists the same tone Carlos Saura strikes in Deprisa, Deprisa, in that the characters are often of the underclass at a time of post-war desolation, with few good choices to make.
Fukasaku gives no quarter to the audience, presenting the violence in that hyper-real quality that contrasts with Malick's dream-like style in Badlands. Captions and newspaper clippings in the Yakuza Papers films add to a sense of reality-based docudrama. Disregarding the more prominent theme of Japanese culture for a moment, one component of Fukasaku's approach can be compared to that of director Michael Haneke in Funny Games (1997), where the cold blooded entertainment often gradually makes audiences uncomfortable with the brutality depicted. In those terms, the films are didactic lessons on violence and crime, and are not textually nihilistic.
Finally, a film that seems to take a positive--or at worst, neutral--view of its nihilist hero is Get Carter (Mike Hodges, 1971). Jack Carter is a gangster. His motivation is revenge, and like Alexandre Dumas' titular Count of Monte Cristo, he hurts himself and others in seeking it. Revenge stories are a bit of an exception in and of themselves, as cinema tends to romanticize the subject, but Carter is a consistent existential nihilist, a fact that upset British critics on the film's release. Brutal when he feels like it and selfish all the time, Carter's taking revenge for something that did not directly happen to him, and although obviously affected by it, he has not been close with the actual victim in years. A London hatchet man, he isn't far in type from the gangsters of Fukasaku. He goes after answers and finally, vengeance, because someone dares to cross him. It seems almost irrelevant that his new enemies harmed someone he hasn't seen in years and whom he may never have cared about. The nihilism of the choice is clear to us and to Carter, who instead of demonstrating remorse, gives the audience a light-hearted, tired smile and a laugh when the job is done (again, to the displeasure of British critics). Carter does good and bad things because he feels like it, not because he cares about justice. American critics, it's amusing to note, had more appreciation for such an individualistic attitude. As such, Jack Carter defines nihilism because he sums up the differences between apathy and mania, a distinguishing point between themes of desolation and themes of nihilism.
More importantly, the camera never judges Carter. His actions are presented in hard boiled form (Carter is actually reading a copy of Raymond Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely in the opening sequence on the train). His actions are neither glorified nor condemned. Sometimes he comes across as a hero, sometimes a monster. He isn't making choices for anyone but himself, and the camera refrains from the judgmental, which is a rarity in depicting nihilist characters.Other characters naturally challenge Carter's worldview and his actions, but with Michael Caine and a nonjudgmental camera, the audience is left hard-pressed to do anything but respect Carter's efforts, and perhaps relate, at least a little, if not admire a man who never shrinks back from his desires when confronted by the abyss below the cliff's edge.
All of these films fit within a genre of cinema d sol , but as you can see it's often harder to make a case for nihilism than it at first appears. I intend to make the case for nihilist aspects of films in future articles, even if the films themselves fail to prove the holy grail of a purely nihilist film.
Full Post
No comments:
Post a Comment