Carl Looper

If a certain type of anti-narrative film making is an attempt to free ones self (or one's work) of ideology, there's no reason why narrative film making can't attempt the same. There's no question that ideology has a way of infiltrating one's work, and an attack vector is certainly narrative. But as Gidal points out it's just as easy for ideology to infect an abstract work as well. He will argue against the blank film in a projector along such lines. There's no reason why narrative films need to be representational. Many are of course, but that's not a reason to "join the club" or "go with the flow". Ideology is the logic of ideas, and these ideas seek to be represented. Gidal argues (and I agree with him here) that one solution is to avoid representation. Another is to just avoid ideas and their particular logic. Narrative is not automatically incapable of this. Indeed one might say it is a particular ideology (or lets just say "idea") that equates narrative with such incapacity. It is not necessarily any entire film that is capable of escaping ideology. But there are certainly tendencies in films, whether sustained, or in fragments, that will nevertheless cheat ideas of their ability to reproduce. They are not limited to just abstractions, or moments, but can occur in relations between shots or scenes, and between those in one film and another. They take (or can take) the form of a narrative in this way. The argument here is that narrative is not just the friend of ideology. It can also operate as it's enemy. C

What is at the heart of the issue is this equation formulated between narrative and ideological structure. While it is certainly the case that ideological structures will use narrative as a vehicle for their reproduction, that doesn't mean that narrative therefore belongs to ideological structures. Or if we're convinced that narrative does belong to ideological structures, the task is simply to take it back. To take back ownership of it. Or to put it another way: why should ideological structures be the owner of narrative? Or who/what gave narrative to such in the first place? Or how did it steal it off us in the first place? C

Here is a good starting point for getting inside the head of the theoretical work that emerged in the 70s with respect to what was called experimental film making. It starts with a definition of Structural/Materialist film http://monoskop.org/images/6/65/Gidal_Peter_ed_Structural_Film_Anthology.pdf The first line reads: Structural/Materialist film attempts to be non-illusionist. Now Gidal will argue (like me) that a materialist film doesn't represent anything. But the completely faulty assumption here is that other films do. Now films are certainly quite capable of representing something. Indeed, even a candidate for a materialist film can end up representing something. And indeed Gidal will elaborate guards against this. The idea is to remove from the process any act of representation. And indeed this is quite a good idea. The problem is the assumption that representation (reproduction etc) is there in the first place. And that only a materialist film is capable of removing it. Gidal will speak of some sort of "representational reality" that one is otherwise aiming a camera at. And he will speak of being "seduced" by this "representational reality" and that one must work against this seduction. The real issue for filmmakers such as Gidal is simply dominant cinema, and the rubbish it is capable of manufacturing. Gidal is convinced (like others) that this rubbish is a function of narrative (fullstop) and is looking for an alternative - but in the process he is throwing out the baby with the bath water - closing off alternatives, that do explore narrative and that need not be rubbish. C

Theorists such as Peter Gidal are the theorists about which I'm speaking. Of the so called stucturalist/materialist tradition. It is not against Gidal's films, or any other films of this persuasion, that I would have any argument with at all. On the contrary. The argument is with the writing (the theory) around such films, of which Gidal and others will be quite eloquent, but also (in my books at least) quite wrong. Out of this theoretical work (not the film making) emerges an anti-narrative position. It's based on the misguided idea that a film image is some sort of illusion - that the essence is to be found in the materials, and the art in a "stucturalist" position with respect to such materials. Narrative becomes understood (or misunderstood) as part of the illusory side of film. But this emphasis on the essence of film assumes an equation to be understood between such an essence (or fundamentals) and that of art. It's not that difficult to understand. When working with film one becomes intimately involved in it's physical nature. Or material nature. The image component strikes us as some sort of apparition. And any narrative component, even more so. Its easy to treat these apparitions as illusory, or at best, a so called "representation" of something. This is how images and narrative will be treated - as "representations" of something else. But what is this something else? The structuralist/materialist theory tends to suggest this something else is typically some sort of propaganda or at best, a convention. And the structuralist/materialist filmmaker will seek to disrupt this propaganda/convention through redirecting our appreciation to that of the materials otherwise involved. And indeed it does work. The material structure of film (or of any art) provides a wealth of alternatives to propaganda/convention. Carl Andre invites us to appreciate his work in terms of the materials. In this case: wood. We can't appreciate here in a photograph because it's all about being there in front of the work. Andre is called a "minimalist". The minimalism refers to the very minimal way in which the materials are arranged - that which we can see in a photograph. But this is not the most important part. For Andre it is not the arrangement of the materials that constitutes the essence of the art but the materials themselves. But the so called "minimalist" structuring of such does help us to appreciate what he means by the "materials in themselves". And his work is really quite beautiful in this way. And his structuring isn't really that minimal at all, but in comparison to other works it acquires this term "minimalist". Now it is not against this kind of work, or this kind of theory, that I'd ever what to suggest anything inherently misguided. It's not at all. It is against the sledging of images and narrative, that can otherwise emerge out of this kind of work, that is an unfortunate byproduct. Images are not a representation of something else. Nor is narrative. It is precisely when we we start reading images, as representations of something else, that we can end up assigning reality to that something else. But images are a reality in their own right, no less physical than the physical materials out of which an image is otherwise composed. And the same goes for narrative. While Gidal might argue for a fundamental position against narrative (and other filmmakers of the same persuasion might be similarly persuaded) it is only this argument which is the problem. Not the films, the film making or the film makers. C

Rather than trying to get a 35mm look (whatever that means) a better idea is just to get a better look out of the 16mm. But what you've got already looks just fine. I can't see any issue with grain. Grain is only an issue if you do a freeze frame and stare at it for more than a 1/48th second. Degrainers are not a good idea unless you are trying to optimise bandwidth. They will tend to make an image softer than it otherwise needs to be. Better to leave the grain in there. The grain is actually beneficial - it triangulates (so to speak) fine details and subtleties that might otherwise be lost. But a way to improve a film scan is to increase the scanning resolution, eg. doing it at 4K, even if it is subsequently downrezzed to 2K. It improves the result considerably. An HDR scan also helps. C

I should just add that I work quite a bit in an art gallery context, and have no issue working in such a context at all. There is a lot about space, and the sort of timeless time that an art gallery provides, that can be explored in great detail. And indeed it's quite refreshing to put narrative to the side and work directly with visual space. And there are certainly many aspects of time one can exploit there as well. Indeed those contexts in which narrative works best can be quite limited in terms of what one can do in terms of space. One's space is reduced to that of a rectangle. So the art gallery (or extended cinema) becomes a good antidote to such limitations. VR provides an interesting alternative and it will be interesting to see how narrative art might work with such - no doubt drawing on ideas in theatre and cinema as much as computer gaming. Narrative is an art of time. And deserves more attention than the sledging it tends to get from time to time. C

The density range of black and white film can be huge - one can block out the light from the projector entirely with black film running through the projector. I'm not sure why a DLP projector couldn't also achieve this (but I don't have as much experience/knowledge with such as I should), but film is certainly a winner in terms of the contrast range you can get. My computer screen has a contrast ratio of about 1000:1. I don't think it's particularly special in this regard. This contrast range equates to a range of about 10 stops: log10(1000)/log10(2) = 9.9 stops. But the density range of the print film I'm using is at least 13 stops (contrast = 10,000:1). And that's at least. It would have more but it's blacks are so black it would become difficult to measure where the blacks would actually flat line. Would need a very sensitive light meter with a large time integration to get a count of the photons otherwise making it through the film. A brighter projector can certainly help. For unless one is in a completely dark room (no photons from exit light signs and other sources) a projector must compete with the ambient light if it's to achieve good contrast and so a brighter one can do better than a dimmer one. But in an otherwise perfectly black room, a dimmer projector doesn't necessarily lose to a brighter one. It will be down entirely to the blacks that each can achieve. C

Use a crane, but don't paint it out in post. Leave it in there. C

Although art galleries are designed around space more than time, there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Space is certainly something very worthwhile in it's own right. And it's certainly not necessary for art of any kind to be creative in terms of time. But if and when a work is involved with time, it's hardly an improvement to redesign the work with a "looser approach" in terms of such. Better to create a different work where such is not the focus in the first place. This has nothing to do with any dependencies on "traditional linear structure". Quite complex non-linear narratives will be just as much short changed by the art gallery context as any traditional narrative might be. All parts of a narrative are inter-related. It's not just between one shot and the next, but between every part of the narrative and every other part. One can certainly design work in such a way that it doesn't matter in what order you show shots, scenes or even frames, or at what time one enters and exits a work, but then such a work is no longer one involved (or capable of being involved) in any complex narrative. It gets designed out of the work, or one doesn't bother with it in the first place. This is not about the freedom of the audience to come and go as they please. While more awkward in a theatre/cinema/auditorium one can certainly enter and exit such a space anytime one likes. The issue is that a work which is being creative with the particular time it asks of it's audience is simply harder to appreciate if you are not giving the work this time. C

Could also be the projector. Or how the projector is set up relative to the camera. Even very small vibrations can cause perceptible jitter. You could try sand bagging the projector. And you might need quite a few sand bags. I had to use a lot of sandbags for a 16mm projector once - and Super8 projectors can be a lot worse. In one situation the vibration of the projector went through the table across the floor and up the tripod. The interesting thing is that when watching a film live your brain can adapt to the small vibrations and cancel them out - but a video camera doesn't have such a brain and will burn such into the video. One could argue that your brain should be able to cancel out the jitter transferred to the video - and it can to some extent - it helps if you turn off the lights and watch the film full screen so that one minimise any external frame of reference. Of course, once you are alert to it you just can't stop noticing it. Sandbags then. They do help a lot. C

Filmmakers such as Peter Greenaway tried to work it the other way - to turn films back into something belonging in an art gallery. Or to transform the cinema into an art gallery. Eventually he gave up and moved back to the art gallery, from whence he began. And he seems a lot happier there. Narrative artists could try the same thing but the reverse - see if they can transform an art gallery into a cinema. But it never quite works. Narratives require attention. The order of the work is important. And various details, if missed, can disrupt what is going on. Some theorise that the cinema is some sort of escape from the real world - and that such requires a venue blocking out the real world in order to facilitate such an escape. And that narrative is part of this escapism. But the cinema can also be regarded as a way of blocking out distractions - in order to appreciate the narrative more clearly (without some bozo tripping over you in the dark looking for a seat, cushion or bean bag). Its like reading a book. You could display the pages of a book on an art gallery wall, but it would be impossible to read such a book off such a wall. It's just so much easier to read (and appreciate) a book in the conventional way - in your hands, turning the page at your own leisure, and becoming immersed in the words - digesting such in one's own private imagination, away from prying eyes treating you like some sort of guinea pig in some sort of experiment. Old ideas are not inherently bad ideas. For example, the wheel is a very old idea (indeed Ancient) but it is just as good today as it was thousands of years ago. C

The anti-narrative position of certain art (or experimental) films, of a certain persuasion, grew out of a dissatisfaction with particular narratives (particularly those of conventional cinema), rather than out of any real fundamental argument with narrative as such. However some theorists of this cinema took it to signal a fundamentally anti-narrative position and this had an unfortunate feedback loop on the film makers, who would start promoting the same theory, if not write it themselves. Narrative becomes understood as some sort of sin, or some sort of old fashioned idea going back to Ancient Greece - the incorrect assumption being that anything done yesterday (let alone in Ancient times) must be obsolete. It is very much part of a strident modernism (out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new), with it's emphasis on some sort of notion of the "contemporary". The latest fashion. Or fad. And opposing narrative can be regarded as just such a fad. But if we take a post-modernist position on this then historical fads (such as anti-narrative) become just as important as contemporary fads (whatever the powers that be nominate as contemporary), and so an anti-narrative theory, while an "historical fad" becomes worth looking into. But what's required is to put such into context. And this means reconnecting such with the narrative it otherwise opposes or recontextualising it with another narrative. Otherwise one is just perpetuating the same theory - that narrative is some sort of sin, and that anti-narratives live in some sort of fundamentally pure and untouchable isolation from everything else. What is really required is not anti-narrative work, but narratives of an entirely different order. But as mentioned the best place for such is not the art gallery. It's the music hall (music and narrative have a lot in common) or the theatre, or the reading room, or the cinema, or DIY versions of such. An art cinema but one designed for something other than the art gallery. C

The f-number is the result of dividing the focal length of the lens by the diameter of the iris. Or reciprocally, the diameter of the iris is the result of dividing the focal length by the f-number. When we write an f-number (N) in the form: f / N, we're literally representing the diameter of the iris: focal length (f) divided by the f-number (N) For example, when we write: f/5.6 we're literally expressing the diameter of the iris. All that remains is to replace f with the focal length of the lens and perform the division. For example, with a 25mm lens, and an iris setting of f/2.8, the expression f/2.8 literally means: 25mm / 2.8, which means: 8.9mm (the diameter of the iris). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F-number Given the diameter we can calculate depth of field: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depth_of_field#Derivation_of_the_DOF_formulae C

Yes, as David pointed out the f/stop is useful for depth of field calculations. I've been recently writing software for a film out setup in terms of what allowable error range there could be in lens focus before the definition of the result became unacceptable. And for this the f/stop, rather than the t/stop, became the important number - along with the "circle of confusion" number one wanted to use in defining the range of acceptable softness either side of the optimum focus point. C

An art gallery isn't the best venue for narrative art (such as narrative film making). Narrative art plays complex games with the time given to a work. Whereas the work one typically finds in an art gallery tends to avoid any particular way of giving time to the work. There are, of course, exceptions to this, such as performance art, but such works still tend to maintain an affinity with traditional art, such as painting, which operates more in terms of space (architecture) than in terms of time. Art galleries are best for an art of space, more than an art of time. Time in an art gallery becomes more like some sort of timeless time. Narrative art works better in theatres, reading rooms (books, comic books), cinemas, the web. C

Yes, I was doing DIY digitisation of video signals and even made a simple 4 pixel digital camera using photo diodes (used in a machine vision application). Most of my work at that time was actually the other way: with digital animation to film (photography via a CRT with filter wheels) and also to videotape (5 second pre-roll on every frame being edited in). The first commercial digitisation system I used was the Quantel PaintBox (about '83 or '84), and then after that was a Fairlight CVI (later half of the 80s). Then there was the Amiga and capture cards. Early days - limited pixels - limited bits - slow CPUs - but through such one could clearly see the future. C

I started with film in the mid 70s, adopting video and digital in the early 80s. I could see by late 1982 there was definitely something to digital. My entire adult career goes back to that moment. But the real question for me is: when did I discover there was something to film. This occurred once in 1978, but I didn't, at the time, believe it. And occured once again about 6 years ago when researching and testing film to digital techniques. C

One doesn't end up with more information. One ends up with the same information. When scaling from 4K to 2K, there is only a necessary loss of sharpness (loss of definition). There is no necessary loss of depth information. The depth information of 4 x 8 bit pixels is exactly the same depth information as a 1 x 10 bit pixel. So when scaling from 4K 8 bit to 2K, one should use (at least) 10 bit pixels for the 2K - if one doesn't want to lose any of the depth information. C

A good example of this is in Bridge of Spies. Tom Hanks will suggest, for a scene in which his character is looking out the window of a train, at the end of the film, that what his character sees there, are young kids, leaping over backyard fences, expressing the joys and freedom of youth and creating a poignant counterpoint to his experiences in Berlin. This is not in the script but it's one of those things that film makers do when making a film. They make something much more than just what the script suggests they make. They love this sort of thing. They live for it. To make a film (movie, work of cinema) - not just an "audio-visualisation" of a script. C

Yes, the story told by the script agrees (more or less) to the story told by the film. But the story told by the film is a much bigger story than that told by the script. It is not just a question of the filmmakers simply clarifying ambiguities in the script as if it were simply a multiple choice questionnaire, requiring little more than a tick in a box. Or just adding details - as if doing no more than putting burn marks on spaceship models. Or simply illustration. The filmmakers are not just creating an example of what the script might be indicating. They are creating the very thing that the script can only indicate. They are creating that which the script has otherwise left to the imagination. Indeed the art of script writing is often to leave as much as possible to the imagination - to give the film makers room to be creative rather than simply visualisers. It is avoid reducing them to merely ticking boxes on a limited number of choices. The film makers create this bigger story. Indeed the story the script tells can very well be an abbreviation of an already understood bigger story. It becomes shorthand for what has been otherwise understood as this bigger story. If the script is left somewhat ambiguous it is so it doesn't contradict the evolving clarification of this bigger story. C

The difficulty we will have, of course, is simply that we're writing about something that words are not able to completely clarify. And trying to use words to do that! What if we entirely agree that the cinematography (etc) should be in allegiance to this "film as a whole", surely we can use the word 'story' to mean the same thing. While the script might not tell us the story of how the Imperial Star Destroyer enters frame from above, we've nevertheless just referred to this particular detail as a story. In what way then, might the truism not also mean this understanding of story? What will determine the answer here is not the truism, or any particular take on such, but the context in which the truism is trotted out. It is the context that will determine what is being meant by 'story' in this regard. One way of determining such is to ask under what conditions the truism is trotted out? Against what supposed misconception is the truism being deployed? What are the specifics of the discussion in which this supposed donald card might be played? It will be in these details where the meaning of 'story' will be clarified to the extent it is. And I'd suggest that by 'story' is meant that which a script otherwise tells - that this story is typically the one intended. For example, the story the script for Star Wars tells. If a giant spacecraft hurtles into frame, above the audience, this will be just one of any other way of expressing the same story as told by the script. The particular solution adopted can be regarded as arbitrary in this way. What will be deemed important is the extent to which the shots serve (or express) the story of a tiny spacecraft, pursued by a giant Imperial Star Destroyer. But this is to suggest there could have been another way of making this particular film, be it for better or worse. And we might suggest this is the particular hole into which Lucas descended. An alternative to this, and one I'd advocate is where one already knows, in a vague or quite clear way, what is going to occupy the screen in terms of images and sounds. One might speak of some giant spacecraft hurtling through space in perspective, like the way the spaceship Discovery in 2001 did, but in a fast paced, more adrenalin pumping way - chasing a tiny spacecraft - but with the same authentic space lighting that 2001 employed ... etc. And towards such an end we will need a story to structure this. Now this completely oversimplifies it (and merely reverses the problem into the opposite problem) but it's to provide an indication of how story and means are not necessarily cause and effect, and that there is a bigger context in which all of these elements, including story, can be regarded as composed. For the purposes of creation one decomposes each of these elements. They remain interconnected (or intertwined), but each with a different emphasis. Each component is effectively a different way of understanding the entire work, be it from the point of view of cinematography, or the point of view of sound, or that of costume design, and so on. They are all like fragments of a hologram, each of which sees the entire picture, but from another point of view. And the story is just one of those fragments. The task of film making is akin to reassembling the hologram - to bring together all of these fragments. To reconstruct the whole. Of course, in the beginning the whole is not in any way physically given (other than by reference to fragments of such, in historical precedents). It is imagined. Hallucinated. It is a precognition. It is that which a text might indicate, as will concept art, and storyboards, and so on. The work proper will be triangulated by each of these components. Brought into focus. Created in this way. It is a myth, we might say, that one only tells the same story that the script tells. C

Yes, the story is the same, more or less. As it would be. The film will tell the same story as the script. There is nowhere suggested that this should, in anyway, be otherwise - notwithstanding changes made during the making of a film. And yes - apart from the rollup, the "medium" or implementation is different. One is implemented in terms of text, and the other is in terms of images and sounds. But what is important is this difference. The way in which a text tells a story is fundamentally different to the way in which a film tells a story. It is to the extent that each agrees with the other that we can speak of the same story. More interesting is where they differ. For example, where in the text is the story of how the Imperial Star Destroyer enters frame from above. This is part of what makes the film, a work in it's own right. As are a thousand other details like this. It is no longer just the same story in this respect. The film as a whole gives us something more, and different from just it's agreement with the story written by the text. In short, it is allegiance to more than just the story, that makes or breaks a film. C

The term "story" can certainly be used to mean the work as a whole. But typically it isn't. Indeed, often when the truism is trotted out - that "the cinematography should serve the story", the context is more often than not (both literally and meaningfully) in terms of a story understood in conventional terms, and this would be different from whatever should serve that story: such as cinematography. When the going gets tough for this position, instead of suggesting that the cinematography should perhaps have less allegiance to the story, the term "story", will also mean the work as a whole. This is the very meaning of conflation - where the term "story" will be asked to hold two different meanings, at the same time. In doing so it escapes one's ability to otherwise put one's finger on it. The issue is that story (in the conventional sense of a narrative) ends up escaping its role as equally subservient to the work as a whole, and becomes promoted (so to speak) to that of the work as a whole. The idea being created is that there is no difference between the story and the work as a whole. And there's some truth to this. But we could equally suggest that there is no difference between cinematography and the work as a whole. And there would be some truth to this as well. The various terms we use (cinematography, editing, story, etc) can be understood as deconstructing the work as a whole, into different components. Even before a work exists. It's a theoretical activity. It's a way of organising how a work might be made, as much as a work might be understood. Its a way to partition off discussions that are specific to such separated out components, notwithstanding their somewhat artificial separation from the work as a whole. This last point is perhaps the most important one - that each component (including story in the conventional sense) is subservient to the work as a whole. That such has been artificially divided out from the work as a whole. Why the division? Because it's both more economic and more powerful to manage a work in this way. To break up a big problem (the making of a work as a whole) into smaller problems, where particular expertise, specific to the nature of those smaller problems, are more easily and eloquently resolved. The risk is where a particular component becomes disengaged from it's position within the work as a whole. For example a story can become disengaged from the work as a whole. If only because it might have originated in that way. It is the task of any such a story, as much as cinematography to become a part of the work as a whole. C

I mentioned to my other half, about the show ... but I needn't have done, as it was already on the top of her list of shows she couldn't wait to see. And yes, I take your point about it being not just a "food show". It is the broader context in which food might feature that becomes the story. It is like the Tour de France. It's not just a bicycle race (of which I have little interest myself) - it's also, if not even more so, the fantastic landscape in which such takes place - to name but one of the many features of such a show. C

Yes, the context reshapes any particularity one might identify. For example, one might take a pin and scratch the emulsion of some film, and discover in doing so, that when projected such looks like some sort of laser beam or death ray on the screen. And this can be clarified through context. For example one might provide a figure holding a ray gun. This idea of a laser beam, that the scratch might provoke, can be clarified in this way. We can say the introductory sequence to Jurassic Park provides contextual support for that moment where computer animated dinosaurs will be introduced. Dinosaurs, already provoked by the particularities of the animation work, will be clarified in this way. Montage, as much as collage, is in full operation here. C