A Revision of Filmmaking in Amatörer (2018)

A Detailed Video Essay Outline on Amatörer

Introduction

  • Open to black screen. Fade in white text “Amatörer (2018)” next line “Directed by Gabriela Pichler”
  • Cut to minute 8:59, play with film audio to 9:09.
  • Cut to minute 11:07, play with film audio to 11:15. Pause.

  • Flash on white text “Starring” in the top right corner of still.
  • Flash on white text “Zahraa Aldoujaili (as Aida)” over her left shoulder (she is the one in a yellow helmet).
  • Flash on white text “and Yara Aliadotter (as Dana)” to the bottom left of her blue helmet.
  • Voiceover (VO): Amatörer, or Amateurs, is the story of a small town in Sweden called Lafors as it attempts to attract the construction of a German superstore, Superbilly. The town council members ask local high school students to make films that advertise the beautiful qualities of the town of Lafors. Amatörer follows two students, Aida and Dana as they unexpectedly take to the medium, and proceed to document the less-than-beautiful aspects of the town they call home.”

National and Transnational Elements

  • Fade to still at minute 1:17:13.

  • VO and white text appears as details are spoken. On-screen text is indicated with “” in the following narration. Text should appear on the right half of the still as a list.
  • VO: Amatörer was released in “Sweden, Germany, the United States, Poland, Denmark and Finland” in “2018”
  • VO: The film is a primary example of transnational cinema as no fewer than nine languages are spoken in the film: “Swedish (primarily), German, Romanian, Serbian, English, Arabic, Tamil, Kurdish and Bosnian”
  • VO: The film first premiered in Sweden at the “Göteborg Film Festival,” but it also aired in other European and American film festivals. Today it can be accessed via Amazon video.

Thesis

  • Cut to black screen.
  • VO: Director Gabriela Pichler takes viewers on an intimate path that exposes the inhumanities of the “Traditional Style” of making film and recommends a newer, “Egalitarian Style” of making film. (The on-screen white text should appear in the upper half of the frame as “Traditional Style vs. Egalitarian Style”).
  • VO: The egalitarian style relaxes the cinematographic ‘rules’ of filmmaking and employs affordable technology. Pichler juxtaposes scenes that are shot using conventional filmmaking techniques with those that are made using an egalitarian style. Amatörer thus contributes to the rising era of cinema that both democratizes the process of filmmaking and that places value on its ethical production.
  • VO: Two scenes highlight the differences between these two styles: the “Drone Scene” at the beginning of the film and the “Selfie Stick Scene” at the end of the scene. (Text should appear as “Drone Scene vs. Selfie Stick Scene” in the lower half of the frame).
  • VO: Let’s start with the drone scene.

Drone Scene

  • Cut to minute 29:48, play with film audio to 30:17. Pause.
  • VO: This scene exemplifies the “Traditional Style” (text in upper right of still) of making film. As you can see, this scene is shot with a drone, which is a very expensive piece of equipment. Since only filmmakers that have substantial funding can use this technology, drones can be considered a facet of traditional filmmaking. Also, the shots are “clear and non-shaky” (smaller text below starting a list), revealing their professional production. Lastly, the “lighting” is ideal since the shots are taken at dusk, making the images look romantic and idyllic. Attention to lighting is also a conventional filmmaking skill.
  • VO: More importantly, this scene reveals the film’s overall critique of the traditional style. We hear Swedish folk music from 1962 playing extradiegetically. The out-datedness of the music points to the out-datedness of the traditional style used to produce this scene. Also, the shots are extreme long shots, making them cold and distant. We can see this in the following still.
  • Cut to still at 30:42.

  • VO: This extreme long shot dwarfs the people in the frame, as you can see with Aida and Dana in the lower right corner. The shot belittles them and the extradiegetic music silences them, producing an overall dehumanizing effect. These elements reveal the indiscretion and apathy of traditional filmmaking as it removes the humanity from the humans on screen.
  • Play with film audio to 30:47.
  • VO: Now let’s compare this scene with the selfie stick scene.

Selfie Stick Scene

  • Cut to minute 1:19:15 and play with film audio to 1:19:41. Pause.

  • VO: This scene demonstrates the “Egalitarian Style” (middle right of frame) of making film. Aida shoots this scene with a smartphone and selfie stick. This use of this relatively affordable technology is a criterion of the egalitarian style, and contrasts with the use of expensive technology in the traditional style. As such, the shots are shaky and not resolute, pointing to the fact that they are not professionally made unlike the stable and clear shots of the drone scene. Lastly the lighting is natural and unaffected, as only the cloudy daylight and the theatre fixtures illuminate the scene. Now let’s see how the film shows its veneration for this egalitarian style.
  • Play with film audio to 1:20:02. Pause.
  • VO: As you can see, the scene is personal and celebratory. The shots are long to close-up and are packed with people, producing a feeling of inclusiveness and excitement. This shot composition humanizes the people on screen. Also, the music hails from 2017 by a popular Norwegian-Swedish artist, Ane Brun. The song, called “Do You Remember” is upbeat and in English. The modernity of this song (i.e. its date of release and its use of English, a modern transnational language) alerts us to the modernity of the egalitarian style. However, we can still hear the people on screen as they laugh, chant and yell, further giving them presence and agency unlike in the drone scene. Lastly, the shear celebration of this scene underlines the film’s overall celebration of the egalitarian style. The people on screen dance and clap as Dana and Aida ascend the stairs, groups chant “Lafors! Lafors!,” high fives are plentiful and smiles are wide. The association of celebration with the egalitarian style drives home the film’s reverence of and preference for this new style.
  • Play with film audio and begin fading out sound and image at 1:20:20 to black and silent screen by 1:20:27.

Conclusion

  • Fade in to still at 1:30:27.

  • VO: Amatörer is not only the story of two young amateur filmmakers, but it is also that of a growing era of cinema, the era of egalitarian film. The egalitarian style democratizes the process of filmmaking by employing amateur techniques and technology to produce films that are made by the people, for the people. It replaces the humanity in filmmaking that has been stripped away by the traditional style, and it encourages a future where film foregrounds its own ethical production. Indeed, amateurs are starting to find their place in this new world of cinema.
  • Flash on screen large (taking up almost entire frame) white block letters “AMATÖRER”
  • Play only film audio from where left off at 1:20:27. Begin fade out sound and image at 1:20:47 to black and silent screen by 1:20:58.
  • Fade in white text “By Bailey Fallon” in middle center, fade out.
  • Fade in white text “Thanks for watching!” white text in middle center, fade out.

Elevated screen time… not so bad?

An Instagram post from National Geographic as an example of the type of media I consume regularly.

Changes in my own media consumption do not vary significantly from those of others; certainly my use has increased. I have found myself scrolling through Instagram (see above), watching funny pet videos on Pinterest, and viewing independent short films on YouTube much more often than before the quarantine. When I wake up, take breaks from schoolwork, and before I go to sleep, I will pop on these sites for about 10 to 30 minutes. My film and TV consumption has also increased. I have finished three television seasons on Netflix and watched about five movies in the past four weeks alone. Though I maintain as regular a schedule as possible (ie. I ‘go to class’ or do classwork and research at the times I would pre-quarantine, and I maintain my regular exercise, meditation and meal routines), I still have an extra hour or two at the end of the day that I typically would not have before the pandemic. My hypothesis for this phenomenon is that the extra bits of time I used to bike and walk to class and to chat with students, professors and other friends on campus would together amount to those two hours I find free at the end of every quarantine day.

Sometimes I fill portions of those time slots with non-screen activities like playing or listening to music, writing or reading. But for the most part, I am behind a screen for a large chunk of those two hours, chatting with friends and family, on social media or watching movies and television. From these observations, I can reasonably conclude that screen time is an easy fall back for filling my free time. It is accessible, diverse in content and emotionally stimulating. Of course, one’s initial reaction to increased screen time is to scold oneself. But I have found that it’s not all that bad. I have discovered and become up to date with work by current and upcoming filmmakers. I have learned more about the second Queen Elizabeth’s life than I ever would have had I not finished two seasons of The Crown. I have even had more than one fits of belly-laughter from watching cats falling (safely) off kitchen counters on Pinterest. Yes, biking, walking and interacting with humans is certainly a preferred use of my time, but I cannot say than an extra few hours of screen time every day or so has been a complete waste of time.

A moment of joy in Joy

There is one rather lovely scene in Joy in which we see some joy. Iis the scene in which the women spend free time dancing togetherThis scene recalls our discussion of the song scene in Fire at Sea; both moments exemplify the “human response to suffering.” Here, costuming and shot composition call attention to the vibrancy the women are still able to generate within their oppressive setting. They wear casual clothes with plenty of color and pattern – a change from their usual work clothes: skin-tight, made-up and excessive ensembles. This more natural, yet still colorful look suggests that they can be themselves and celebrate life, even within their confines. Further, this shot breaks the rule of thirds, as four figures fill the screen. This compactness works on two levels: first, it brings into focus their enclosure within a small environment, representative of their metaphorical entrapment in the world of prostitution, but also, it produces a sense of comfortThe shot feels as if the room has been filled with life and friendship. The women are close together, dancing and smiling, highlighting a sense of equality and support for one another. The scene offers a moment of relief in the film’s otherwise heavy mood, working as the song scene in Fire at Sea does to humanize the people on screen.  

Inept Aid: the inadequacy of physical help in a time of political crisis

This shot indirectly overlays the narrative of the refugee crisis in Lampedusa onto that of the locals in Gianfranco Rosi’s film Fire at Sea. Though we almost never see the two narratives intersect, the film makes known the presence of the refugees in the everyday lives of the Italian locals through subtleties such as symbolic imageryHere we see the Jack-o-lantern face of a cactus paddle with its gashes ineffectively covered with electrical tape. The two Lampedusan boys have just pummeled the group of cacti with stones, debris and firecrackers slung from their homemade sling shots. After their attack, the boys attempt to mend the cactus faces with tape that will not stick. This image symbolizes the plight of refugees who travel to Lampedusa, and the ineptitude of Italian attempts to help them. 

Firstly, the faces carved into the cactus paddle are foreign; they are human features forced onto parts of landscape. The cactus faces can therefore be taken to represent the arrival of African refugees at Lampedusa. Such a representation objectifies the refugees, raising an issue certainly worthy of discussion, but that cannot be fully covered within the scope of this post. Now, if we take this representation to be truethen we must also acknowledge that it is the Italian boys that destroy the faces, which suggests that the Italians are directly attacking the refugees when in fact this is not the case. Nevertheless, thfilm intends to show that no human (besides the oppressed themselfis innocent in a refugee crisis, even when they have committed no direct offense (recall The Doctor when he says that “It’s the duty of every human being to help these people).  

The sporadic application and peeling-off of the electrical tape suggests that the Italian efforts to save and heal the people who travel to Lampedusa are inadequateIn vain, the boys tend the wounds they have inflicted and leave the scene with naïve hope that their efforts will succeed. Likewise, Italians in the film work to save and help the people seeking refuge in Lampedusa, sending rescue vessels and offering medical care. But, as the film implies from the beginning and as The Doctor agrees, they cannot save everyone, and indeed many thousands die.

Further, Italian efforts place only a bandage over a fatal wound; no matter how many people they help on the ground, the greater problem lies within politics. People will continue to seek refuge and continue to suffer and die at sea while their situation at home remains constant. This idea is reflected in the still, as the tape merely covers the wounds of a dying plantLastly, it is significant that the ‘mouth’ of the cactus is covered, mirroring the silence the refugees face in this political uproar.

Inhuman Encounters at the End of the World

These images exemplify a common theme weaved throughout Werner Herzog’s film Encounters at the End of the World. The theme is searching for humanity in an inhuman place. Herzog believes such humanity exists and he attempts to reveal it in Antarctica by focusing on the people that visit the McMurdo station rather than the frozen wild itself. However, a closer look at his work reveals the reality of the situation; humanity cannot be found in an inhuman world. These two stills demonstrate that reality.

The top still arrives early in the film when Herzog visits seal scientists stationed outside of McMurdo. Here the scientists press their ears to the ice to listen for seal calls while an extradiegetic recording of the calls plays in the background. The second still comes later in the film when Herzog visits other biologists at a dive station. Here, a professional diver pivots to face the camera as he ascends beneath the ice. With these shots, Herzog juxtaposes the familiar, the human, with the unfamiliar, the Antarctic wild. He finds the humans in an inhuman place. However, color, clothing and shot composition in these stills expose the people’s inhuman-ness and their misplacement in this setting.

Tones of blue engulf the people in each shot, suggesting their domination by the cold environment. The people’s own hues of black and red stand out against the elements, alerting the viewer to their misplacement. Further, both shots depict quasi-human figures. Antarctic gear obscures their bodies and faces so that only their silhouettes are distinguishable as human. This costuming, so to speak, suggests that human penetration of an inhuman world warps the human, so that she or he becomes unrecognizable. This warping points to the idea that humanity cannot be naturally found in a place such as Antarctica.

Finally, there is something to be said about the shot composition of these stills. It is impeccable, and therefore uncanny. Herzog is only too familiar with cinematographic techniques such as obeying the rule thirds and working with depth of field. In the first shot, he places the horizon in the upper third of the frame, places the people in each lateral third of the frame, and adds depth to the image by placing figures in the foreground and background. The second shot, though not taken by Herzog, symmetrically positions the diver with his arms and head occupying the lateral thirds of the frame, and with two lines in the ice running symmetrically toward his shoulders. These manipulations of shot composition superficially work to conflate the people with their surroundings. The aesthetics are somewhat harmonizing and are suggestive of the people’s rightful place in Antarctic. However, it is precisely this manipulation that renders the shots uncanny. They are too perfect. The composition actually exposes the staged-ness of the shots, reminding the viewer of the unnatural presence of people in this world. Though Herzog finds humans in an inhuman place, his film highlights the idea that they should not be there.

Hüseyin’s Naiveté: the ironic hopefulness of a “guest worker”

 

This GIF highlights Hüseyin’s naiveté about moving to Germany as a guest worker. Here we see him grinning hopefully at the welcoming speech delivered upon his arrival. As we have discussed in class, “guest workers” that migrated to Germany in the 1960s and 1970s were not always treated as guests. They worked low-level jobs and were separated from their families for long periods of time. Moreover, they struggled to assimilate into an unwelcoming culture, while also juggling the need to maintain their own. The 1970 Der Spiegel article “Komm, Komm, Komm – Geh, Geh, Geh” remembers of these migrant laborers, “They are not given any gifts; they do not enjoy any special status; they are only invited to join in the production process.” Almanya: Willkommen in Deutschland touches upon these topics. It depicts Hüseyin working subordinate jobs and pining for his family back home in Turkey. And while the film engages thoroughly with a people balancing two cultures at once, it does not fully express the consequences of battling social disparities. Rather, the film glosses over these challenges with rose-tinted comedy. This GIF offers one such example. Hüseyin venerates his new identity as a “guest worker.” His nod is ironic and laughable because it indicates that he believes his new position is a respectable and desirable one, when the reality is quite the opposite. Though the film recognizes the irony in this moment, it does not stress just how seriously Hüseyin is mistaken, when he can really only expect long days on the job, and long nights away from home. On the other hand, it can be argued that the film uses comedy to bring to light these hardships, and I shall be curious to see whether such an argument is made…

 

 

 

A Cursed Performance

 

For all of you theatre kids out there, this one’s for youI based this meme on the stage superstition that it is bad luck to say “Macbeth” or anything related to Macbeth in theatre. For those not familiar with this superstition, the idea is akin to wishing an actor “good luck” before their performance, when proper practice is to say, “break a leg.” In the eyes of theatre lovers, saying “Macbeth” or wishing one “good luck” will curse a production. I chose this subject to shed light on the performances of the characters in this sequence in Inglourious Basterds. The American ‘Basterds’ are pretending to be Italian filmmakers and Bridget von Hammersmark’s escort, while BvH pretends not to be an Allies agent. However, the improvised nature of their act renders it inviable. The characters have thrown together this outfit at the last minute in attempts to rescue Operation Kino. However, the serpentine Colonel Landa sees instantly through their roles and flaunts his priviness by laughing maniacally at BvH’s cover story and by speaking fluent Italian.  

This still captures the moment when the Basterds and BvH realize that their cover is blown and that Landa is teasing them. Their performance has failed, and their faces reflect uncomfortable dismay and worry. However, in another, sarcastic sense, their faces are also the ones of disgruntled stage actors. If, on opening night of a production, after countless hours of rehearsalstage prep, costume design, and after the actors are all dressed and ready for curtain, someone were to say “Macbeth,” this is the sort of reaction that more than likely would occurFrom left to right, the characters’ faces seem to read: “Seriously?,” Ohhhhh no,” “MMMMM,” and “You may leave now, you disgraceful being.” The juxtaposition of this moment in the film and the moment when some says “Macbeth” in a theater highlights the doomed nature of Operation Kino, or at least, the failed performances by the Basterds and BvH. 

Re-identification and Namelessness: The Fate of a Refugee

Director Christian Petzold constructs and deconstructs the identity of political refugees in his 2018 drama, Transit. This scene particularly highlights the theme of manipulated identity, as it depicts a woman with many identities, and at the same time, none. Before I engage with the scene, I would like to recall a note by Hannah Arendt in her article “We Refugees.” In discussing the fate of mid-20th century Jewish refugees, she remembers, “Our identity is changed so frequently that nobody can find out who we actually are” (Arendt 116). Here, Arendt speaks of the many names and roles native peoples thrust upon European Jews seeking refuge in other nations, and how they lost their true identities as human beings upon exodus. Petzold illustrates such an identity crisis in this scene. 

 Officially identified as the “Architect” (IMDb), the woman in this scene takes on several identities. Here, we first know her as the ‘lady with the dogs’ since this is how Georg first sees her. When he crouches beside her, the woman opens the conversation by declaring her hatred for the dogs. Her expressed distaste simultaneously dissociates and associates her with them. By speaking about the dogs as a ticket for her exit from Marseille, she identifies herself as said ‘lady with the dogs.’ However, by explaining her desire to turn them to “mincemeat,” she distances herself from them, and by extension, from her identity as ‘lady with the dogs.’ This dysphoria exemplifies the identity crises many Jews experienced during Nazi occupation and thereafter (Arendt 115). The woman next identifies herself as a Jew, a title she never relinquishes, but never again emphasizes explicitly in the film. Though an integral layer to her identity, and the one that ultimately proves fatal, her Jewish identity falls second to third, an architect. The woman coldly comments that she designed the dog owners’ house. As an educated and accomplished professional, she resents having been knocked down the social rung to ‘lady with the dogs at the mercy of past clients.’ The woman has been stripped of her identity and has been forced to assume a new, less dignified one.  

Her situation recalls another that Arendt describes regarding a Jewish refugee who… finally exclaimed, ‘And nobody here knows who I am!’” as he tried to construct a new life for himself in a new place (115). Like the woman in Petzold’s film, the man in Arendt’s article experiences identity dysphoria because his original identity has been taken, and no matter how hard he tries to rebuild a respectable one, the world around him simply will not allow him to do so. Petzold further drives this point home by refusing to assign the woman a name. Though she is simultaneously three people – lady with the dogs, Jew, and an architect – she is at the same time, nameless and thereby nobody. Her identity crisis forces her to cease to be person, and in doing so, ultimately takes her life. Truly Arendt has it right when she says, “society has discovered discrimination as the great social weapon by which one may kill men without any bloodshed” (118). 

Siletsky: A not-so-clueless Nazi?

This still captures a moment that occurs just past the halfway point in the film, during which Professor Siletsky unravels Joseph Tura’s performance as Colonel Ehrhardt. At this point in the film, Tura has betrayed his identify by overreacting to Siletsky’s confession about Maria Tura’s infidelityThis moment complicates Lubitsch’s satirization of Nazias easily-fooled and performative followers of an insubstantial political regime.  

Professor Siletsky is one of few, if not the only Nazi to demonstrate a convincing loyalty to the political partyHe was seemingly genuine in his testimony to Maria Tura about Nazi principles and humanity,’ and here acts in accordance with loyalty to the party by exposing Joseph Tura and attempting to escape the theatreSiletsky, unlike many of the Nazis in the film, fully believes in NaziismFurther, he sees through Joseph’s performance as Colonel Ehrhardt and soon bursts out of the staged room and into the theatre beyond, exemplifying his priviness to the act. Though he had earlier been fooled by Maria Tura’s performance as a dewy-eyed dame, Siletsky now disobeys the clueless Nazi trope Lubitsch has constructed in thfilm.  

Having gained the upper hand in this shot, Siletsky stands in the foreground and towers above the freshly-exposed Joseph Tura who sits in the background. Behind him, Tura’s stage becomes clear – the curtains fall behind him as if they were theatre curtains closing in on his act. Siletsky gazes down at Tura who looks nervously up at himSince Siletsky stands to the left, our eye naturally follows his stare down from left to right. If one were to trace this gaze with a pen, the line would would pass through the swastika on the wall, as if Siletsky were looking through the Nazi front Tura has constructed. Whether they are due to Tura’s inadequacy as an actor, or to Siletsky’s true perceptiveness, Siletsky’s actions in this scene complicate Lubitsch’s satirization of Nazis in To Be or Not to Be.