Μετά το 1985, η συστηματική παραγωγή και διανομή της ελληνικής βιντεοταινίας στις βιντεο-λέσχες (video clubs) σε όλη την Ελλάδα και η αναμενόμενη στροφή στην κατ’ οίκον ψυχαγωγία συνδέθηκαν κατά βάση με την αυξανόμενη ζήτηση και ενοικίαση κωμικών βιντεοταινιών. Κωμικοί χαρακτήρες, όπως ο Ρομά γυρολόγος Ταμτάκος (Μ. Μόσιος), και δημοφιλείς ηθοποιοί, όπως οι Κ. Βουτσάς, Σ. Μουστάκας, Κ. Τσάκωνας και Σ. Τζεβελέκος, υποδύθηκαν μαζί με συνομίληκους ή νεότερους πρωταγωνιστές αντίστοιχους ρόλους και είτε συνδέθηκαν σε μεγάλο βαθμό με την προηγούμενη κινηματογραφική τυπολογία τους ή ανανέωσαν την παλαιότερή τους. Η ποικιλία των κωμικών μοτίβων και συμβάσεων και η ανάδυση υπο-ειδών – όπως η αισθηματική κομεντί που απευθυνόταν σε νεότερης ηλικίας ακροατήρια – ανύψωσε σύντομα τη βιντεο-κωμωδία στην προτίμηση του ελληνικού βιντεο-ακροατηρίου. Συγχρόνως, έδωσε ώθηση για μία περαιτέρω παραγωγή, συχνά ευτελούς, οπτικοακουστικού υλικού, το οποίο, τουλάχιστον για τα τελευταία χρόνια της δεκαετίας του ’80, δεν είχε καμία σχέση με τη σκηνοθετική προσέγγιση, την αισθητική και τη σεναριακή πρωτοτυπία ούτε του κινηματογραφικού αρχετύπου από την εποχή του Παλιού Ελληνικού Κινηματογράφου (ΠΕΚ), ούτε, εξάλλου, με τις ίδιες τις βιντεοταινίες των αρχών του 1985-1986. ... More
Xenia is a deceptively simple film which needs a detailed analysis and exploration. Recently, it received a number of prestigious awards by the Greek Film Academy and many positive, albeit mixed, reviews in the international circuit of film festivals. Guy Lodge in Variety talked about the film as “brashly uneven and wildly overlong” in need of more “disciplined editing.”[i] Boyd van Hoeij pointed out that “though the story [i]s finally too predictable and a little too thin to captivate for the film’s entire two-hours-plus running time, the characters, their chemistry and their plight are compelling.” [ii] Fabien Lemercier was more positive in his assessment: “Very much at ease with tragicomedy and not one to shy away from any combination of genres – from fables to hyperrealism, or from focusing on a single human relationship to a vast portrait of society, via euphoric moments of musical comedy and amazing forays into dream worlds and fantasy – the filmmaker allows himself to take every possible liberty in Xenia”. Lemercier emphasises that “the film is above all a very successful portrait of brotherhood.” [iii] ... More
According to a popular dictionary, the word “weird,” an adjective equivalent in connotation to the “strange” or “unusual,” is akin to the “old English term for fate, or else for what was ‘worthy’ to come into existence” (Merriam-Webster 2011). As fate would have it, the very same word was brought to the fore and has been highly associated with contemporary Greek film production, from the moment a Guardian journalist introduced this tag. In this unusual founding document, Steve Rose relates the aesthetic values of this art-house films that were channeled in the international festival circuit, to the status quo of Greek politics and finance in the beginning of the second decade of the new Millennium: “The world's most messed-up country is making the world's most messed-up cinema” (Rose 2011). The world film industry and criticism has already assimilated the notion of “weird” as a generic term for an innovative artistic current. At the same time, the regulating tag of the “messing up” is still applied in favor of the standardization of a national identity, in a “common process where the structural and morphological traits of a national cinema conclude to the formation of a particular genre” (Poupou 2014: 47). However, we still find ourselves puzzled by the most striking trademark of this cinematic expression; the appearance of a new, hybrid spoken language in the diegetic world, which consists in word plays, metaphorical schemas, elliptical sentences, loanwords and made-up words etc., while the concept of role-playing is central in the narrative and the character development. Approaching this recent artistic practice through the scope of the notion of language games in the context of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s philosophy, we will try to speculate on how this playful approach to language criticizes its power as an established social practice and domineering structure, and how these films disband a master narrative that would be articulated as a totalizing cultural narrative schema by a national cinematic apparatus. Eventually, the cultural idiom that is formulated by this roster of young directors is neither national nor transnational (Papadimitriou 2011: 493), but it is rather self-reflective, as it speculates on the place of a piece of art in a globalized context, at this time juncture. ... More
[Σημ. επιμ: Το ακόλουθο κείμενο αποτελεί ανακοίνωση στην ημερίδα του Ομίλου Μελέτης Ιστορίας και Κοινωνίας (ΟΜΙΚ), «(Αντι)μιλώντας στη σοβαρότητα. Μια απολύτως σοβαρή και ταχύρρυθμη αντι/ημερίδα», που πραγματοποιήθηκε στην Αθήνα την 1η Απριλίου 2014].
Η πρώτη κινηματογραφική προβολή στην Αθήνα έγινε στις 28 Νοεμβρίου του 1896 και οι προβολές διήρκεσαν μέχρι τα τέλη Φεβρουαρίου του 1897. Πέρασαν όμως δύο ολόκληρα χρόνια, μέχρι τον Μάρτιο του 1899, για να επαναληφθούν οι κινηματογραφικές προβολές, σε μόνιμη πλέον βάση. Η διάδοση του κινηματογράφου στην επαρχία έγινε σταδιακά και επιλεκτικά και εξαρτήθηκε κυρίως από τις συγκοινωνίες, για την ακρίβεια την εξάπλωση του σιδηροδρόμου, και από την παροχή ηλεκτρικού ρεύματος, αν και χρησιμοποιήθηκαν και φανοί ασετιλίνης με σοβαρές όμως εκπτώσεις στην ποιότητα προβολής. Ένα χρόνο μετά, δηλαδή την 1η Μαρτίου του 1900 ο κινηματογράφος έφτασε και στα Τρίκαλα, μία από τις μεγαλύτερες τότε πόλεις του μικρού ελληνικού βασιλείου. Παρακάτω θα παρουσιάσω την πρώτη αυτή κινηματογραφική προβολή, στην οποία καταγράφεται η πρώτη απόπειρα λογοκρισίας, σύμφωνα πάντα με τον αθηναϊκό τύπο της εποχής.
Παρενθετικά, να επισημάνω ότι η πρώτη τεκμηριωμένη ηθικολογική αντίδραση εναντίον του κινηματογράφου εμφανίζεται στον Πειραιά, στα τέλη Ιουνίου του 1899 όταν ένας εύζωνας θεωρεί ανήθικο το δημόσιο φιλί επί της οθόνης και αντιδρά μεγαλοφώνως. Το κοινό όμως του Πειραιά φαίνεται να το απολαμβάνει και μάλλον ενοχλείται από τον ένστολο υπερασπιστή της ηθικής (Εστία, 24/6/1899). ... More
There is something very special in attending for the first time one of the ‘Big Three’ film festivals. Together with Cannes and Venice, the Berlin International Film Festival is one of the three major gateways for non-studio produced films to gain critical attention and break into the market. Extensive and often real-time media coverage of the premieres, of the critics’ responses and of the awards contributes significantly to the make-or-break of films, but also to the festival’s own prestige status. By the time you read this report you will have heard about the winning films, you may have read a few reviews about them, and … you might have even have contributed to the box-office receipts of the widely anticipated studio-produced erotica Fifty Shades of Grey, which also had its European premiere at the Berlinale , out-of-competition, of course.
I arrived in Berlin in the evening of the second day of the festival, too late to secure tickets for any screenings, but just in time to catch some distant glimpses of a luminous Nicole Kidman on the red carpet and get a scribbly autograph from James Franco – both of whom were in town for the premiere of Werner Herzog’s Queen of the Desert. But as star-gazing was not my priority, I was very relieved the next morning when I found a way to actually see some films: rather than queuing outdoors in the freezing cold from 7am each morning for next-day tickets, my experienced journalist friend showed me how to queue for same-day press screenings indoors instead… Excitement notwithstanding, I soon realised that the Berlinale is a trying experience even for accredited participants like me. Hierarchies abound, privileges vary, queuing is de rigueur – and often in vain. During the five days of my stay – half the duration of the festival – I saw nine out of the nineteen competition films, as well as a few films in other strands. Two competition films stood out for me: Romanian Aferim! and Guatemalan Ixcanul/Ixcanul Volcano, while two other Latin American films, both from Chile – El Boton de Nacar/The Pearl Button and El Club/The Club – were also very powerful. Pleased to find that all these films won awards, I was nonetheless sad to have missed Jafar Panahi’s Golden Bear winner Taxi – although undoubtedly its award will help it reach my nearby art-house cinema. ... More
During the 38th Göteborg International Film Festival, which took place in the second largest city of Sweden between 23 January and 2 February 2015, we saw things that one does not see every day. This blog post is a brief report from the leading film festival in the Nordic countries: The first section is dedicated to some of this year’s highlights, whereas the sections that follow focus on more specific aspects of the event, including the special focus on European Cinema, the presence of films from Greece and films related to Greece, as well a mention of this year’s award winners.
The Festival’s highlights
One of this year’s festival’s highlights undoubtedly was the presence of legendary Swedish filmmaker and actress Liv Ullmann. Ullmann attended this year’s event and received the Nordic Honorary Dragon Award, while she also held a Master Class where she discussed her relationship with the art of filmmaking and her 2014 film Miss Julie. ... More
Source: Filmicon, Issue 2
Narratives, themes and heroes from ancient Greek drama have been present on screen from the first years of early cinema to the present day. A list of films based on Greek tragedy reveals sacred or sacrilegious works, auteur masterpieces or educational television adaptations, avant-garde films, mainstream productions, parodies, and even comic twists of the tragic. In his recent exemplary book that revisits the relationship between ancient drama and film, Pantelis Michelakis shows a wide spectrum of cinematic versions of Greek tragedy, while exploring new questions and perspectives.
Despite the large number of film adaptations, rewritings and influences from ancient drama, only a limited number of monographs are exclusively devoted to tragedy in film. While there are numerous studies that examine the role of antiquity, mythology or ancient themes in film, television and popular culture [i], just a few of them elaborate in depth on the cinematic adaptations of Greek tragedy. The two major monographs date back from the 1980s: Kenneth MacKinnon’s Greek Tragedy into Film (1986) and Marianne McDonald’s Euripides in Cinema: The Heart Made Visible (1983). Both studies construct the object of tragedy into film as a homogeneous entity, through the selection of their corpus and through the categorizations they propose. This kind of construction of a homogeneous corpus is evident in McDonald’s study, which examines what can be called an auteur art-house canon, based mostly on Pasolini’s, Cacoyannis’s and Dassin’s versions of Euripides’s plays. Similarly, although MacKinnon’s book discusses a wider range of films and approaches, the distinction she proposes between what she calls films in the “theatrical mode”, films in the “realistic mode” and films in the “filmic mode” still constructs a rigid homogeneous corpus of study. ... More
Almost 25 years after the release of Jennie Livingston’s unapologetic documentary Paris is Burning (1990) and Judith Butler’s groundbreaking book Gender Trouble (1990), one might wonder what happened to the queer project. Born out of the discords of postmodern identity politics and the frustrations of AIDS activism in the late 1980s, the queer movement evolved and flourished throughout the 1990s, introducing a radical critique against the dominant heteronormative and homonormative culture and politics, as this was hammered through the movement’s unique amalgamation of theory and aesthetics (particularly if one bears in mind how queer theory has inspired New Queer Cinema’s filmmakers and vice versa). But it was not long before Hollywood contained the oppositional energies of a Gus Van Sant, a Todd Haynes, a Gregg Araki, reducing the movement to a moment, as Ruby Rich, who coined the movement’s cinematic epithet, laments (2000). However, this brief essay is not meant to be a eulogy. It is more of a re-evaluation of the way theory has engaged with the queer aspects of cinema in the last 25 years, as well as an investigation of queerness’s value at a theoretical, aesthetic, and political level in the contemporary neoliberal context where politics is replaced by “technocratic, corporate, post-political governance”, the so-called “governmentality of the crisis” (Butler, 2013). ... More
Recently, a spate of publications on the relation between cinema and religion reignited a conversation that seemed forgotten, after the grand Hollywood biblical epics of the 1950s and early 1960s. The conversation had started with Parker Tyler’s book Magic and Myth of the Movies (1947) and the psychologist Carl Gustav Jung, and was later continued with Siegfried Kracauer’s Theory of Film bearing the indicative subtitle The Redemption of Physical Reality (1960); ultimately it found its more astute articulation in Paul Schrader’s Transcendental Style in Film (1972).
Although religion as the ultimate urgrund of signification, especially through the Neo-Thomist aesthetical views on speculum mentis, underpins the theories of a staunch realist like Andrè Bazin, no systematic discussion was ever undertaken about this complex issue. Yet even in the most atheistic period of the Soviet state, Sergei Eisenstein managed to infuse his Ivan the Terrible (1944), especially the second part (1958), with Christian iconography, as he abandoned the epic cinema of his early experiments and tried to develop his central character and his psychology over time. Religious semantics found always their way into the symbolic universe of many films, even if these films totally rejected the religious tradition that had formed them. ... More
A far-reaching book printed in the UK and the US by a prestigious publishing house has been at last dedicated to contemporary Romanian cinema. It is a well-deserved and long-awaited one because Romanian filmmakers have strongly asserted themselves in the last decade or so. In order to better understand that this is of international significance we should notice that Romanian cinema – similarly to other Romanian arts – has never benefited from the honour of having a book entirely dedicated to it in English or other international language.
Dominique (Domnica) Nasta is a Professor of Film Studies at Université libre de Bruxelles and the author of two books: Meaning in Film: Relevant Structures in Soundtrack and Narrative (1992) i and New Perspectives in Sound Studies / Le son en perspective: nouvelles recherches (2004) ii, dealing with film music and sound. She has also contributed extensively to several encyclopedias and dictionaries on cinema (for instance the chapter on Romanian cinema in Storia del cinema mondiale  edited by Gian Piero Brunetta iii). Perhaps not coincidentally, the author is of Romanian origin and lives in Brussels. Being an ‘outsider’ to some extent is both an advantage and disadvantage involving a certain distancing and lack of bias, but requiring great endeavor to see and review a long list of Romanian films and access a long bibliography in Romanian. In addition, Nasta returned several times to her native country to meet filmmakers and obtain important details from the directors Nae Caranfil, Radu Gabrea, Lucian Pintilie and Corneliu Porumboiu, as well as from the scriptwriter Razvan Radulescu and the cinematographer Oleg Mutu. ... More