Sunlight disperses upon the surface of the brilliant white net curtains that cover the large window, shielding the room from the worst of the heat. Adam Ousmane sits across the wooden desk from Mme Wang, who is attended by her secretary. Silence, except for the faint sound of a pen scratching on paper. The office belongs to the new manager of the hotel in which Adam is employed as head pool attendant. ‘How old are you Adam?’ … ‘I often see you sitting in your chair?’ … ‘Do you really think we need two employees?’ Mme Wang makes further notes as Adam responds. Director Mahamat-Saleh Haroun’s camera lingers within these silences. Camera movement is discreet, reduced to a bare minimum, medium shots predominate and editing only occurs when absolutely necessary for a reframing. Colour is natural, the mise-en-scène sparse and diegetic sound prevails. The actors are restrained, sotto voce, gesture minimalised. Such procedures accentuate the everydayness of the film, but also inspire a subtle beauty in the image. At night, a long take of Adam on his motorbike, its lights illuminating the white walls of an alleyway, is breath-taking. Adam stands at a window of his house, sunshine plays upon his naked torso, the curtains are slowly allowed to fall back into place and enshadow him as he distances himself from what is happening outside. This cinematic asceticism has an immediate correlate with another procedure, one which transforms the simple into something far more complex. Missing moments: critical instants are effaced from the narration and do not appear on-screen. Such ellipses are an essential function of the story, of the narrative. Not in the sense that they are hidden so as to create mystery, and thus be recuperated, ultimately revealed, reclaimed in order to explain. Rather, these omissions are withheld to echo what another character could not know. These missing moments may be obvious (a cut in the middle of an important scene) or obscure (we may only realise later that something has been withheld). More significantly – such moments mirror what the character wishes to hide: their deceptions, disloyalties, dishonesty. Their shame, what they would not want others to know, the full import of their actions, words, silences. Character motivations are ambiguous, for others, for themselves and for the spectator. And Haroun ensures such ellipses are never revealed, ever sustained.
In this way – through the directness of the image and the complexity of ellipses – A Screaming Man creates a powerful image of everydayness, of the quotidian...
To read the full exploration of A Screaming Man through the Deleuze's sign of the 'quotidian,' see Deleuze's Cinema Books: Three Introductions to the Taxonomy of Images...
I love the use of ellipsis as a method of confronting the viewer with uncertainty, with manipulation of events, with only portions of an event. I find it endlessly fascinating that the brain is so readily able to adapt to films which cut across time and space frequently based on some underlying assumptions of continuity, and how easily rattled these minds can be by a single deliberate omission in this continuity. It seems that exposition and character motivation allow the mind to navigate these complex scenarios without much trouble, but when the omissions are of exposition or character motivation it is like a brick wall. Of course, there are other methods of navigating these omissions, but they tend to be much less easily navigated by the assumption of continuity and in fact call into question any assumptions of continuity, any possibility of continuity. And, of course, when you can't assume a great deal and can't create complex associations with an underlying and simplifying mode of engagement... the films slow down, simplify actions in order to observe previously ignored complexities... this is the essence of much of 'arthouse' cinema, essentially. I don't think it's something that can be cleared up in one fell swoop with Deleuze, no? Perhaps it helps, though, and that's always welcome. I admit, though, in my already admitted ignorance I had to reread your Deleuzian framework a couple times and it's all still hazy. I guess you actually have to, I don't know, read a book for it to all come together. So much effort. For another film full of meaningful ellipses I suggest Schanelec's Marseille. I'd be quite interested in your take on that film, but at the same time... I may lack the tools to apply your framework. At the moment. Tomorrow's another day...
ReplyDeleteHi JeanRZEJ
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments.
I am not using Deleuze to 'explain' the text. Rather to 'explore' it. The question is not 'what does the film mean?' but rather, using some of Deleuze's concepts, 'what can I say about the film?'. In this way, my reading is deliberately and strategically partial. From my perspective, it is impossible to say what the film means, to tie down how it works, what it does, what it is saying in its entirety. When film theory attempts to do this (or thinks it does), it promotes a necessarily partial reading to an objective explanation. It kills the film. All I want to do is see where some aspect of the film, in consort with one (of many) Deleuzian concepts leads me... another concept, another day, another reading...
As to getting to grips with the texts. Yes. I mention the cinema books and Difference and Repetition here, and other books in other posts. Lots of work, lots of effort. A lifetime's work... the beauty is you never get to the end of them. Again, thinking you do kills them. Done that, move on. Yeah, losts of effort to get to grips with them, and lots of effort to keep going back to them instead of just thinking you know all about them. I dont. This blog is a way of working through them. After all, what else we gonna do with our time?
Thanks for the film recommendation. I will check it out... I always check out recommendations...