The Illusion of Depth

This year (2023, for the benefit of any anthropologists reading this thousands of years from now) marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of Laura Mulvey's landmark essay Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema . Mulvey's essay has become famous for drawing a parallel between cinema and voyeurism, pointing out that the pleasure we get from looking at a movie is effectively the voyeuristic pleasure of watching (unobserved) characters engaged in intimate activities.  As she puts it: In a world ordered by sexual imbalance, pleasure in looking has been split between active/male and passive/female. The determining male gaze projects its fantasy onto the female figure, which is styled accordingly. In their traditional exhibitionist role women are simultaneously looked at and displayed, with their appearance coded for strong visual and erotic impact so that they can be said to connote to-be-looked-at-ness. Woman displayed as sexual object is the leitmotif of erotic spectacle: from

If you have ever in your life been privy to a conversation about cutting-edge popular entertainment (especially film or television) you will almost certainly have encountered someone issuing dire warnings about spoilers . People generally define a spoiler as something that gives away an important plot point or narrative twist - thereby "spoiling" the experience of actually watching (or reading) the work in question for themselves. I urge caution at this point, because I know emotions on the internet can run high when discussing spoilers. (Actually, emotions on the internet run just as high when discussing brussels sprouts. Emotions don't really need an excuse to run high on the internet.) The question of how much spoilers can actually spoil anything is a very personal one. I know that some people can't stand going into a drama knowing in advance that Hamlet is going to die, or that the Titanic is going to sink. But it sometimes feels that if you really want to live yo

I don't think I am saying anything particularly controversial when I say that the US has never been especially friendly towards Socialism. Modern American conservatives like to refer to their opponents as "the radical left" or "the extreme left" although 21st Century American liberalism is what most European countries would call the "centre-right". The mid-Twentieth Century in America was defined by an explicit "war on Communism", and accusations of Socialism are still a very effective way of stopping someone's career dead in its tracks. Setting aside the rantings of modern social media jockeys who think that President Biden is slightly to the left of Lenin, there actually was a period of American history when the country was genuinely left-of-centre.  The 1930s in America was the decade of Franklin Roosevelt and his "New Deal". Following his election in 1933, Roosevelt implemented a series of social programs designed to get the

or... "The Curtains Made Me Do It!" This week's film is directed by Vincente Minnelli, one of the great visionary directors of Hollywood's golden age. Even if you do not immediately recognise Minnelli's name, you will probably be familiar with at least some of his work, which includes such iconic musicals as An American in Paris and The Band Wagon , as well as Lust for Life ; Kirk Douglas' memorable turn as Vincent Van Gogh. Minnelli was also married to Judy Garland and father of Liza.  As I say, you probably know at least some of his work. What you probably don't know is the film I plan to show on Thursday. The Cobweb was released in 1955 and centres on the patients and staff of a private psychiatric clinic. It features a large (and highly distinguished) cast of actors including Richard Widmark, Gloria Graeme and Lauren Bacall (at the height of their careers) alongside Oscar Levant, Charles Boyer and Fay Wray (older, venerable names) and Lillian Gish (