Freeland and the Appeal of Graphic Horror

I was reading Freeland's chapter on graphic horror and I found a few curious details that sparked my interest. Earlier in the course, I was discussing the nature of slasher villains and the idea that foes like Jason Voorhees tend to inspire audience support (especially from fans) rather than detractors. Fans typically praise Jason and follow him on his adventures through the numerous sequels and remakes. What drives that interest? Why can people identify with a monster?

Freeland makes some great remarks about the appeal of graphic horror films. Most notably, she links it towards three main characteristics, each a development of the idea that graphic scenes of gore/violence function like "numbers" (heightened sequences of spectacle and emotion that appear to interrupt the plot and produce pure visual experiences of stunning power and capacity - a perverse sublime if you will): (1) they can further the plot and narrative, (2) produce emotional/cognitive effects, and (3) provide general aesthetic pleasures that have to do with audience knowledge and appreciation of the genre.

Function 3 is what interests me the most. This type of aesthetic pleasure is what the typical horror cinephile gets attracted to once they've become enveloped by the genre. For example, I'm a diehard fan of John Carpenter's remake of The Thing. One of the main reasons I prefer this film is its sheer ingenious mechanical effects - I know what type of blood, sweat and labor went into the making of them (and the fact that Rob Bottin, the lead makeup FX guy, had a breakdown after the film says something of how much effort he put into it). The gory visual spectacles are gross, obviously, but they aren't just artifacts of violence for violence' sake. Which leads into the second idea, that graphic horror is sometimes appreciated due to intertextuality and a meta-level aesthetic appreciation of specialized knowledge and interest. Freeland writes (especially concerning horror sequels), "Sequels have a special appeal to the fans of a genre. They often prompt a switch from involvement in a film's plot to a metalevel sort of aesthetic appreciation based on special knowledge and interests. Graphic horror sequels enable fans to study and comment upon cinematic techniques: plot variations, allusions, style, effects, wizardry, parody, and 'in jokes'" (p. 262).

This is the pure artistic appreciation of what the filmmakers can create, as for example in The Thing. Concerning the types of monsters in these films, Freeland writes, "Despite their individual differences, monsters like Pinhead, Freddy, Leatherface, and Jason function alike in one key way - they take graphic visual spectacle to new extremes. They figure in films whose numbers are given over to what I called function 3, display for its own sake. Their presence is inked to frightening displays of forces of destruction that can simultaneously be disgusting yet enjoyable" (p. 268).

So, there we have it, perhaps. Spectators can be attracted to these slasher monsters because of the cinematic creativity that they embody, the spectacular nature of their deeds, and the specific knowledge that comes with knowing them. Specific knowledge here of course representing that a fan of Jason will know and recognize the many different ways that he and his methods have been portrayed throughout the series (intertextual references begin to come into the fray in later sequels which reference Frankenstein and the idea of resurrection through lightening).

Furthermore, Freeland argues that the very extreme nature of the violence depicted in these films renders them more comedic and cartoony than anything. The violence becomes sublimated and stripped of its negative aspects. Unlike the realism of other films, graphic horror focuses on the spectacle entirely and becomes so utterly unrealistic that it borders on camp. Of which I would agree. 

I had specified that I thought horror slashers were popular among fans because they tend to develop a cult like status through subsequent films. All of these observations, be it the cinematic creativity, cartoonish violence, or references to other works (and in-jokes or more esoteric knowledge) can be developed in that framework. 

So, back to the paradox of horror and Mr. Carroll. Why horror? Why do we enjoy it? If graphic horror offers any insight, then certainly we like it for its spectacular visual display and creativity. Of course, not all horror functions in this manner. The advancement of plot and eliciting of emotions and cognitive interests (functions 1 and 2 of numbers) also play much larger roles in a work such as Stoker's Dracula, in which the violence or moodiness is clearly meant to support the narrative and upset the reader (the blood transfusions are still unsettling to me for some reason). 

Thus, it would seem that part of Freeland's account is once again in line with Carroll's in that horror ties into narrative expectations. Carroll believed that horror was the price we paid for a disclosure of the plot and the nature of the monster. Similarly, Freeland is arguing that graphic horror can be a vehicle for plot and narrative, enhancing it or just taking it to the extreme in a visual excess.

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What about non-cinephile horror viewers? Perhaps they won't enjoy graphic horror as much as fans would. I'm not entirely sure what to make of a "fresh" viewer - someone who isn't acquainted with the background and/or localized knowledge of a specific monster or movie series. Perhaps they can enjoy graphic horror through its advancement of the plot and the interplay with cognitive emotions. 

Personally, I know that as a fan of horror cinema, many of the works I went into fresh were those that helped me develop my sensibilities and acquire a taste for these types of films. It's difficult to pin down this evolution and development because we're dealing with a heavily phenomenological process which is much too complicated to boil down into a few telling criteria. The more I think about it, the more I think Deleuze was right: cinema and life are one and the same.

I, Chitti

Robots, love triangles, dancing, and art-horror oh my! Greetings, fellow sojourners of the Spectral Symposium. Today I come out of writing retirement to offer you a brief and hopefully compelling glimpse into the wonderful world of South Indian Cinema by showcasing my personal favorite film of all time: the 2010 film Enthiran (translates to Robot in English). This unbelievable tour-de-force masterpiece of cinematic excellence combines the best elements of Pinocchio, Terminator, the Matrix, and Frankenstein into a 3 hour sci-fi techno thriller horror musical extravaganza that will leave you exhausted, invigorated, and amazed. Known internationally as the “Avatar” of Kollywood (not to be confused with Bollywood), this film is just about the most perfect thing ever committed to film, but don’t let my enthusiasm get in the way of the post…

In southern India the summers are long, hot, and dirty; poverty is extreme, and every year millions of people flock to cinemas with hopes of escaping everyday life for awhile. This dreary backdrop helps encourage movie makers to go ‘full out’ with providing a dazzling visual experience at the cinema, as well as raising the bar for suspension of disbelief with on-screen action.

The star of Enthiran is the incomparable Superstar Rajinikanth. Known by his hundreds of millions of fans simply as Superstar, this Chuck Norris-of-India commands a pseudo-religious cult fan following. In fact, producers are often forced to cast multiple roles for him in each of his films since they cannot kill a Rajinikanth-played character in a film for fear of rioting movie-goers destroying the theater (yes that is an actual thing). His performances are known for their unrivaled swagger, cool masculinity, and skilled dance moves, despite his age (born 1950), and Enthiran might be his magnum opus.

Summary

The film opens with Dr. Vasee (played by Rajinikanth) finishing his decades-long project of building a perfect android robot made in his image and likeness, for usage in the Indian Army. After a rousing opening dance number, Vasee’s robot downloads the sum of human knowledge and goes out for his first human interaction, an awkward and necessary part of his training. While at a family dinner, Vasee’s mother affectionately names the new robot “Chitti” (also played by Rajinikanth). Chitti and Vasee both prepare for the upcoming international robotic conference while Vasee’s gorgeous, frustrated, but faithful girlfriend Sana (played by former Miss World Aishwarya Rai) waits patiently for some quality alone time with the Subaltern Superman (tension builds!)

Chitti debuts to raucous praise and amazed onlookers at the conference, where our nemesis and Vasee’s old mentor Dr. Bohra fumes with jealously over his inability to make a better android. (hint, he makes robots for evil, whereas Chitti is made for good). With his superhuman knowledge and abilities, Chitti quickly endears himself to Sana and aids her with everything from cleaning to cheating on her med-school exams, while saving her from muggers and noisy neighbors in the process. Sana slowly begins to rely more heavily on Chitti than Vasee (tension!) but Chitti can’t feel emotion so Vasee has nothing to worry about.... After failing a key test before the Artificial Intelligence Research and Development Institute (headed by Dr. Bohra), Dr. Vasee, frustrated with Chitti’s failure, adjusts his “neural scheme” to feel emotion, seeking to accelerate Chitti’s evolution and chances of passing the final test. After slowly showing a romantic interest in Sana (uh oh, here we go...), Chitti is scolded by Vasee. Chitti, in protest, intentionally fails his army examination and is subsequently destroyed in a fit of rage and disappointment by Vasee and left in a heap of parts at the junkyard, where a waiting Dr. Bohra hatches an evil plot...

Bohra revives Chitti and inserts a red microchip containing his “destruction mode”, intent on weaponizing Chitti and manufacturing an army of robots to satisfy his evil German weapons dealer 'clients' who have been angrily awaiting a final product. Needless to say this plan totally backfires on poor Dr. Bohra. “Chitti 2.0” swiftly murders him and sets forth on his plan to rule the world and capture Sana for himself. What follows is some of the craziest action I have ever witnessed in a film(that claim is saying something considering my intense viewership of Steven Seagal and Jean Claude Van Damme) as Chitti and Vasee clash over the fate of Sana and the world. See the clip below for yourself...

Chitti 2.0, as he is known, is purely malevolant, thanks to Dr. Bohra's red chip, and rampages all across Chennai and Southern India. His goal is to capture Sana and have an unholy hybrid child together, as he bends the universe to his will in a creepy and unstoppable plan. To accomplish this, Chitti 2.0 clones himself into a vast army of interconnected Chittis that rapidly overwhelm local police and military. Left helpless, the authorities turn to Dr. Vasee in a desperate attempt to save Sana and civilization. An epic showdown between Creator and Creation! Good stuff... Dr. Vasee hatches an ingenious plot to neutralize Chitti and return him to his likable non-murderous state, and in the end all is well in the kingdom, but not before the authorities order Chitti to be permanently decommissioned. In a touching denouement, Chitti, as he is disassembling himself, reminds us that everybody has a red chip of envy, lies, and deceit in their heart, but that love will survive.

Analysis: Do Robots Dream of Electric Dance-offs?

      There is a surprisingly large amount of thematic and philosophical material to chew on in Enthiran. What makes a robot a robot? What makes something human? Can robots love? Do you need emotion and free will to be moral? Chitti is caught between Vasee and Bohra's dreams but nobody cared to ask him about his.
      The central philosophical theme of Enthiran is one of the most basic philosophical questions: what makes something “human”? This is not new to fiction or even film. We have seen in it played out many different times. Indeed, one of the very first films, Frankenstein, occupied itself with this question. Enthiran focuses on one aspect of humanity: emotion. For quite a long time now,science- fiction has been suggesting that emotion is at the heart of what it means to be human. For some classic examples, Kirk and McCoy endlessly inform Spock that logic isn't everything and in order to be truly human, one must accept and embrace emotion. In Blade Runner, the Voight Kampf test is designed to determine whether or not a test subject is a human or a replicant (an artificial human). 
      If the subject does not display empathy, then the subject must not be human. Enthiran seems to go down this path, but does it? After the tragedy at the burning apartment where Chitti saves a naked bathing girl, who subsequently kills herself from shame, it is determined that Chitti needs to have some sort of emotion chip added so that he will understand cultural morays among other things. In short, he needs to become more human in order to understand human ways.  When the new program is added, it of course throws Chitti into a confusion ultimately leading to a permanent rift between himself and his creator. On the surface, it appears to be a classic example of logic vs emotion—logic is controlled and calm while emotion is confusing passionate and destructive and human. Vasee in an emotional rage quite literally destroys Chitti. But this doesn't truly suggest humanity does it?
      Provocatively, in the epilogue when a student asks “why was the robot dismantled?” Chitti replies “because I started to think”. This line reveals that the film is operating on a slightly deeper level than a simple emotion vs. logic motif. It is creative thinking, not mere emotion, nor basic logical processing that makes something become more human. This is an important distinction. Emotion itself cannot be what distinguishes the human from the non-human. Dogs have basic emotions, as do cats and probably even squirrels. But these creatures do not show evidence of creative thinking. But simple logical processing cannot be what makes something human either given that computers can do this (of course with the guidance of human programming).  The film seems to suggest that it is some combination of emotion and logical processing that defines humanity. Some philosophers, such as the Stoics, believe that human emotion is a fundamental part of reasoning (here thought of as something distinct from simple logical processing). Perhaps, then, what is essential to humanity is logical thinking informed by emotion. This is all debatable, of course. Maybe human beings are just walking computers with a vestigial emotional system cobbled together by evolutionary forces to keep us from falling off tall cliffs and getting eaten by tigers.

      Fans of sci-fi and horror will find many familiar elements in Enthiran, ranging from the classic creation rebelling against creator archetype (though more parts Pinnocchio than Frankenstein), science over-reaching and generating an uncontrollable situation, an unstoppable robot apocalypse (think of Carroll's monster-by-massification), and a fair share of visually horrifying images (for example, Chitti's face melts off during his initial destruction).

Conclusion: Music and Magic

     Indian films are as much about the music as they are about the movie, and Enthiran follows suit admirably. The music video interludes (about 4 or 5 in total) are visually gorgeous, and very skillfully choreographed. The tunes themselves (by A.R. Rahman) are hummable ear worms (hopefully the only Indian worm you catch) that will have you YouTubing them over and over for a week.


     Like a good chicken tikka masala, Enthiran is impossible to describe in few words. Is this film over the top? Yes, but it’s not a mindless Michael Bay-vian orgasm of robot warfare. This movie has a soul. It tells a story with characters you care about, and just happens to have some of the most outrageous action sequences ever conceived peppered in for good measure. Is the film three hours long? Yes, but the storytelling is well paced and cleanly laid out, with refreshing musical interludes when the on-screen action loses some momentum. Is this film a scary movie? No, but it certainly echoes of the horror genre, especially when Chitti 2.0 (our monster) goes on his horrific rampage and outlines his unnatural plans for Sana and the globe with a truly creepy confidence. There is something about Enthiran that is refreshingly honest and charming. It isn't stained by the cynicism and “realism” that plagues many of today's Hollywood blockbusters. If you need a reminder of why movies can be called magical, you should watch Enthiran. If you go into this film with an open mind and willingness to suspend disbelief, I guarantee that you will fall in love and have the biggest smile on your face as the credits roll, as you quickly fumble for your cell phone so you can tell all of your friends. I hope this brief glimpse is enough to whet your appetite for this Majority World Masterpiece and convince you to find it and watch it. If anybody is interested in watching it in the original Tamil (not the lesser quality Hindi dub)I am more than willing to share my copy.



 Happy watching,








 Here are some more images from the lovely film

Qualms With Freeland

For this week, I thought I'd take a slightly different approach. Freeland discusses Repulsion and Silence of the Lambs, noting how each film represents evil as an entity in the world. Each reaches a different conclusion as to how we engage the existence of evil. To briefly summarize, evil in Repulsion is both seen in male sexuality and as a free floating, external force which drives the protagonist to her psychosis. The film concerns how Carol cannot make a genuine response to the evil in her inability to act. She cannot escape the gaze and objectification of both the other diegetic characters and the gaze of the viewer - the audience. In line with her feminist reading, Freeland argues that Repulsion suggests that when women fight back, there will be no psychological satisfaction or judicial support, which is why the film ends in despair.

Silence is the more complex, and perhaps, more interesting film to my mind. Freeland argues that it presents two tales: an internal one, in which Buffalo Bill is evil simply because he transgresses traditional gender roles. The external one involves Lecter's relationship to Clarice and how they develop their individuality and their alliance. Lecter's evil stretches back to traditional monsters like Dracula in his ability to mesmerize and his fascination with blood. Lecter's evil becomes appealing because he functions as a mentor for Clarice, he resists categorization by normal science (Freeland discusses the attempts by the psychiatrist and Clarices' survey) and he's just an interesting monster. Lecter becomes an individual and creative artist who constructs his own particular moral code of self creation (like Nietzschean values). Thus, on the one hand, we have the inner story of the film that deals with the re-affirmation of patriarchal values (because Clarice must enter the world of the FBI through Lecter's help and become the heroine who saves the damsel in distress and defeats the bad guy), and the outer story that deals with individuality, transgression of social values, and creative resistance.

"Repulsion puts us in the head of the murderer and shows that this is an unbearable place to be, that she ended up there because of an unbearable world. The Silence of the Lambs holds us back from the head of its primary killer, but it slyly implies that this would be an interesting place to be and that he got there through creative resistance against a mediocre and boring world" (p. 211).

I think that Freeland has done an excellent job reading these films. However, I think her treatment is more of a dialogue with the idea of individuality and the triumph of the will of persons. Her take on evil is less convincing to me and seems to posit more of a fascination with wanting to see someone triumph in the face of adversity. I've listed a few problems I have. My suggestion here will make more sense in light of the idea of evil and its presence in the world and how these characters interact with it.

Problems With Her Take On Repulsion

(1) Page 192 discusses the sexual repression hypothesis for Carol's attitude. Though Freeland is quick to reject it, it seems very fitting for much of the film. Later, she seems to affirm some of it. On p. 195, "Repulsion strongly hints that Carol's psychosis and sexual repression stem from a history of child sexual abuse. Some disturbing sequences of the film convey Carol's nightmare memories of sexual assault." Now, Freeland believes that the POV identification with Carol and the evil as depicted as stemming from male sexuality render her a sympathetic figure. But this does not rule out sexual repression.

(2) Freeland argues that the audience is driven to empathize with Carol and consider her as someone who cannot make a genuine response to the generalized evil in the world. I find many problems here. On the one hand, Freeland suggests that male sex is the locus of evil, then moves on in p. 198 to suggest that it is free floating and external, perhaps located in the surroundings of the film, the other people, and even the gaze of the viewer. My question is, how has evil moved from male sex to this free floating entity? 

(3) "Instead, Repulsion presents a sort of anti-narrative about the inability to act, a continual waiting, passivity, and suffering that is something out of Samuel Beckett rather than Sophocles" (p. 198.). That sums up part of her intuitions. This is why I think her treatise is more about personal willpower than evil. Evil doesn't need to be a prerequisite for the inability to act, nor does it need to be present for suffering, passivity or waiting. The evilness of male sexuality may be present in the film, that it doesn't entail the free floating, almost cosmic evil she is discussing. Freeland seems more concerned with the loss of personal will in a fragmented and disjointed world. She mentions how Carol's acts are more like reactions rather than authentic deeds. I see this as the anxiety over a loss of will, of which her account of evil is not necessary. 

Problems With Her Take on Silence

*The significant problem here is the last one, which relates to the idea of personal will and individuality.

(1) "The audience is prepared to accept all this because of who Jodie Foster is and what she brings to her cinematic role here" (p. 204). Freeland believes Clarices' transgressive attitude is informed by Foster's sensibilities off screen. Perhaps it enhances it but does one need to be intimate with Foster's background in order to enjoy the film?

(2) "But The Silence of the Lambs leaves both characters alive at the end, able to pursue their own creation of self. 'Good' does not combat 'evil' here because they are in effect mirror images of one another, not polar opposites" (p. 209). This is part of Freeland's idea that both Clarice and Lecter practice an individual approach to life and their deeds. Lecter favors individual self creation and defeating the system, of which Clarice must partly do by consulting a maniacal character such as himself. Freeland underscores much of Lecter's evilness (and its appeal) in his creative artistry and his ability to beat the system and resist categorization while fostering intrigue and mystery, kind of like Dracula. 

There are a few relevant points here. On the one hand, these characters aren't mirror images of one another. I think they simply share common methods and outlooks, as Freeland describes. Yet they are radically different - that's what she misses. On the other, Lecter's creative artistry and personal individuality tie into a bigger concept. They affirm the whole idea of the triumph of personal will that I brought up initially, but they also tie into the idea of evil as being ambivalent. In the film, I would argue that it isn't good or evil that's being involved, but simply evil combating other evils. This renders the notion of evil as nebulous - we don't know what evil is concretely. Is Lecter evil? He's helping out Clarice. What about Buffalo Bill? The dude seems irrevocably evil, yet he's doing his own thing and trying to follow his own personal code. What is good? What is evil? I see it less black and white than I think Freeland does.

Why Freeland's Take Amounts More Towards Will Rather Than Evil

Freeland's discussion need not involve concepts of evil. I think she does a great job fleshing out the appeal of it and how it works in these films, but I'm less convinced in her treatment of evil as a floating force in Repulsion. Evil in Silence seems more like an amoral take, rather than a specific type of evil. And in each case, the will of the protagonists is tested. Carol cannot react genuinely, and Clarice is threatened by the patriarchal world of the FBI that she is desperately trying to inhabit. She consults Lecter - the creative, individual genius - to learn how to cultivate her will and promulgate her own value system, much like Lecter's own moral code that distinguishes his killing from that of Buffalo Bill's. So, to my mind, Freeland's analysis tells us more about the anxieties of the loss of personal will, and how it completely fails in Repulsion but triumphs in Silence. That's why the two central characters (Clarice and Lecter) are left intact at the end.

Thus, I think that Freeland's analysis concerns traditional patriarchal values and all that jazz - but simultaneously, I don't think her treatment of evil gels very well because it concerns more of an anxiety about the individual and the exertion of our will. Now, those things can be threatened by evil, but I would like to see a better metaphysical description of exactly where evil comes from and what its nature is like. Freeland vacillates between male sexual evil and external, worldly evil in Repulsion, which leaves me a little confused. In Silence, she provides an excellent depiction of Lecter's evil as being informed by monsters like Dracula, with a touch of style and artistic flourish that speaks of a transvaluation of values. But these films assume evil that exists in the world from the present - or, that's at least how I read Freeland and her account. I'm interested in exactly what makes evil truly evil, and how these characters incarnate it in their actions and deeds. Her suggestion that we enjoy Lecter's evil because it's about "beating the system" and his interesting character seems more about that exertion of will against the facticity of the universe (to borror Sartre).