Sunday, 29 January 2012

Nostalgia for Film: Trend on Trial

This month, I've seen French film The Artist and new play Travelling Light at the National Theatre.

Both loving homages to the history of film.

It seems there's something of a cross-media trend for looking back to the golden age of cinema.

Other works adding to the movement include Tacita Dean's installation, FILM in the Turbine Hall (a celebration of analogue filmmaking); and Martin Scorsese's latest offering, Hugo, which, like Travelling Light, is about the birth of cinema.

Now, to an extent, nostalgia is always going to be popular among theatre / filmmakers. It's safe, reassuring and hugely evocative. Why else would costume dramas, biopics and recent-past-based sitcoms / dramas have such large audiences?

But I can't help wondering if you can simply explain away this current craze for chronicling early cinema with "nostaglia wins".

Travelling Light was heavy on what JC calls Life-On-Mars quips: knowing nods to the wisdom of the audience when an unsuspecting character says something like: "If only I could move to America. No-one there would be bullying me about budgets and who to cast in my film…" and those of us in the auditorium can chuckle knowingly, feeling clever that we know more than those "schmucks" on stage. It's a fun device used sparingly; but one I felt wore slightly thin in the production I saw on Thursday.
Damien Molony and Lauren O’Neil in Travelling Light at the National Theatre. Photo by Johan Persson
As Pete Hammond points out, the tough economic climate does seem to have created an longing for watching rosier versions of ourselves.

Talking about the Oscar nominations, Hammond says,

"This year, at the top of most pundits lists... are... the kinds of movies that might have worked in the Great Depression of the 1930s, when pure entertainment ruled the roost and Shirley Temple and Astaire and Rogers were must-sees. It’s as if people are trying to use movies again for escape from the harsh realities of living in this modern, difficult world."

This is certainly true of Hugo and The Artist. But I think there's got to be more to it than simple nostalgia.

A second theory is that the movies and cinema are simply at the "right age." At more than 100 years old, have they suddenly reached a magical point where a medium simply stops being "new" or "now", and people are able to take a step back and analyse. Something like Dryden and Pepys being able to perform literary criticism on Shakespeare's plays 100 years after his those works were new. It might be a factor...

But aren't we usually told that today, fashions run in 30-year cycles? That when the kids grow up and finally get into position of power in fashion houses, film studios and design spaces, they create work that's a nod to the time when they were young and first inspired by fashion. Isn't that why they made Grease (set in the 1950s) in 1978? And The Sound of Music (set in the late 1930s) was made in 1965?! And of course, that 33 years Sam Tyler jumps in Life on Mars, conveniently both reassuring and strange for a modern audience. It's perhaps the reason Henry Holland's 80s-inspired clothes are hot right now, and hipsters are all wearing those too-short, baggy-at-the-hip and skinny-round-the-ankle trousers Mel and Kim wore on TOTP. (BTW, they're really unflattering.)

So this cross-genre nostalgia for early film doesn't quite fit this wait-30-years-and-repeat trend. There has to be other reasons for it.

Tacita Dean's Tate Modern Installation,
Photo by Eddie Mulholland
Now Tacita Dean's been quite explicit about the motivation behind her hugely popular Tate Modern work. She's concerned about the decline of film, as digital technology takes over and photochemical labs close down. She told the BBC:

"I suddenly realised we are just about to lose this really beautiful medium we created 125 years ago. Digital is also a fantastic medium. It's got massive potential. But I love film and I don't want to lose my ability to make film and it looks like I probably will."

It seems that in the dying moments of film's existence, writers, artists and directors are paying homage to the medium: Steven Spielberg has said, "its years are numbered, but I will remain loyal to this analogue art form until the last lab closes."

"No matter where the cinema goes, we cannot afford to lose sight of its beginnings", says Martin Scorsese in the same article.

But I can't help thinking that while the perilous future of analogue film is a motivating factor for the guys at the top of the industry, it's not really something the average cinema-goer thinks about.

The final reason I think there's this new interest in the origins of film, the tools involved, the quirks of its history (like the change from silent films to talkies) must be the current democratisation of filmmaking.

With the development of technology -- a camera on every phone, simple editing tools available for free online, a near-universal platform to get your masterpiece seen -- an interest in how your predecessors went about making their "moving pictures" must have more appeal.

Part of the mystery of filmmaking has gone. With plays, art and film about film, particularly analogue film, that magic can be protected. The recent cluster of plays and films about films retain their fascination by turning to bewitching characters (like My Week With Marilyn as well as The Artist and Travelling Light), using tried-and-tested techniques from yesteryear, holding up a mirror to a happier past, as well as pulling on our universal love for nostalgia.

Combine all those factors together, and I think we're getting to the bottom of this current trend. It's a winning formula, and I'm certainly not complaining; I, too, am fascinated by the history of "moving pictures", the industry, where it's going, and where it's been. And if it results in more thoughtful, creative filmmaking like The Artist; well, that's got to be a good thing.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

Arts Ahead: What's On 10-16 January

Marianela Nunez and Thiago Soaresin in Romeo and Juliet. Photo by Dee Conway
January's cultural opening start properly this week, with ballet, Damien Hirst, Quentin Blake and more. Here are the highlights on londonist. Plus a lot of last-chance-to-see (bye bye, Jerusalem, I'll miss you!) shows, so make sure you don't miss out.

For me, it's yoga; a trip to The Ladykillers; possibly a night at the Southwark Playhouse; and writing, writing, writing; and hopefully some more writing...

Peckham's Past: Alexandra Day in Peckham



I'm loving this video from BFI Films of Peckham in 1913. From YouTube:
Alexandra Rose Day is a charity fundraising event, inaugurated in 1912 on the 50th anniversary of the arrival in England of Alexandra of Denmark for her marriage to the future King Edward VII. This charming film follows a cheerful band of women in Peckham, London, as they sell artificial roses to raise funds for local hospitals.
Can you spot any recognisable buildings from Peckham High Street?

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Sadly Missed: Barbara Hepworth's Two Forms (Divided Circle) in Dulwich Park

Sculpture in Dulwich Park

When I took this snapshot back in 2010, I clearly remember thinking how lucky I was that there's such gorgeous public art right on my doorstep.

I loved the piece, and liked photographing it. The holes made me think of eyes looking into another world, framing whatever was through them, making you look through at the framed trees from a new perspective. I liked looking at it through the lense of a camera too, framing a picture of another framed picture beyond... And the title makes you think too: are they eyes, or eggs? Maybe twins? Lovers perhaps, separate but joined. Or a heart broken in two...

I caught the football moving behind, thinking it gave the image more of a hook: this is a park that's used and loved; not just a place for works of art, but a living space.

And now it's gone. It's so sad that this sculpture was stolen; I really can't imagine how the thieves must've felt getting this off the base, carrying it away, and selling it. It's something that I believe is so "valuable" and now it's gone forever, for the few pounds needed to fund someone's criminal lifestyle. It's just beyond my understanding.

See Damien Hirst's Spot Paintings For Free at the Gagosian Galleries

Damien Hirst Controlled Substance Key Painting, 1994 Household gloss on canvas 48 x 48 inches 121.9 x 121.9 cm Photographed by Prudence Cuming Associates © Damien Hirst and Science Ltd. All rights reserved, DACS 2011 Courtesy Gagosian Gallery
From Thursday, you can get a look at Damien Hirst's Spot Paintings for free.

They're going on display at the two Gagosian Galleries in London, as well as at all the other Gagosians (Gagosii?) around the world. (That's New York, Paris, Los Angeles, Rome, Athens, Geneva, and Hong Kong, in case you were wondering.)

Hirst didn't make them himself: these are some of the very works that have caused David Hockney to declare of his own exhibition at the Royal Academy: "all the works were made by the artist himself, personally."

Hirst, on the other hand, used assistants to make his Spot Paintings, saying, "I couldn’t be fucking arsed doing it".

Visit the Gagosian Galleries between now and February to see what the fuss is about, and get in on Hirstmania early: later in the year, Tate Modern is holding a blockbuster Hirst show which'll cost you about £14 to see.
Read my original Damien Hirst post on londonist

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Painting by Numbers at the London Transport Museum

The London Transport Museum has a new Poster Parade on display from tomorrow.

The theme is Painting By Numbers, and the posters featured (just 20 of the possible 500 the museum have in the archive) are all what we'd now call "infographics".

The museum refers to the posters as "data visualisation", and the works on show from the 1920s and 1930s onwards.

They're also very beautiful pieces of design.

Look at this dude's shoes! And I love the detail; the little men working to get those wheels moving along the tracks...

Like the poor guys harvesting "rubber" in this one:
Figures for 1923 by Charles Shepard (1924)
That's 1,134,000,000 passengers dealt with by the 1920s version of TfL. Impressive. Although all of the said passengers seem to be the same very smart man in a coat and hat (See the previous picture!)

And this one, simply called "Speed" is from a decade earlier, but is so fantastic in terms of getting the message across. (I wonder what the average speed of a London bus is today...)

Speed by Alfred Leete (1915)
Again, there are gorgeous details: the monkey travelling at 2mph, the wonderful silhouetted figure of the lady on the same row, the dog racing ahead of that car travelling at 12mph...

And here's a really 60s effort from Heinz Zinram. That's a more recognisable London Transport kind of font right there...
These Vehicles are Carrying 69 People, by Heinz Zinram, photographer (1965)
The exhibition's on at LTM from tomorrow until 18 March. The display complements the museum's current exhibition Sense and the City. Entrance to the museum costs 13.50 (adults) and £10 (concessions), which allows unlimited admission for 12 months. Admission is free for kids under 16. Visit ltmuseum.co.uk for more info.

Here's my original post on londonist.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Happy New Year! And Here's Your Arts Ahead for 2012

Well, here's my mighty round-up ahead of all the excitement this Olympic year from londonist.

Another Tuesday, another Arts Ahead for you. But this time, it's for the whole of 2012.

Alphabetically, you could look at it like this:

Adam Cooper, Big Dance, Cultural Olympiad, David Hockney, Exposure, Freud (Lucien), Globe Theatre, Hirst (Damien), I-Einstein on the Beach(!), Jubilee (Diamond), King Lear and Kronos Quartet, Long Day's Journey Into Night, Metamorphosis: Titian, (All) New People, Oil Tanks, Porgy and Bess, (The) Queen, Reverb, Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela, (Sweeney) Todd, Umbrellas (for Singin In The Rain), Viva Forever, World Shakespeare Festival...

X.. Y... and...

Zach Braff.

That's not to mention Cate Blanchett at the Barbican's 30th birthday, Mozart at the Royal Opera House or any of the 1000s of Dickens 2012 events happening in London. Even Nick Curtis at the Standard is getting excited: does that say Annus Fabulous in that url?!

Can you see why I might've been somewhat, shall we say, restless over the Christmas break?!

I've likened the past few weeks to the clunking, jerky movements heading up a rollercoaster before you finally get to the top, look at a beautiful view all around you (thanks, Christmas in the Shire), and then, Wwwoooosh! From today I've plunged into a spinning, twisting, unrestricted, unregulated freefall that'll continue until ooh, it's all over. In the middle of September.

Welcome to 2012.