Tag Archives: The Prestige

Wherefore Art Thou, oh Narrator?

Chatman argues persuasively (at least, once it got translated into human-speak in class–hats off to Professor Mittell for that one) that the viewer constructs a cinematic narrator and implied author while watching a film text. At the time, it made sense. Anyone “reading” a film will create a prime mover behind every choice in the text and infer their thematic/ideological message based upon the sum of those choices, when in real life, a cadre of professionals and artisans with innumerable outlooks contribute to the narrative processes of the film. During our blargument, Aaron wrote that he looked to his construct of the Coen brothers for answers to the perplexing subjectivity of Barton Fink. Clearly, here is concrete evidence for Chatman’s argument. 

But Bordwell is not satisfied. I can’t tell if Chatman and Bordwell are locked in mortal combat for all eternity (a text is forever after all) just so they each have an excuse to keep publishing the same theories over and over, or if they really do feel this strongly about a narrator. Seems like a silly fuss over the signification of eight letters, but that’s just me. Anyway, Bordwell counters,

A filmmaker or group of filmmakers created the system of cues we are to follow, and as real agents ourselves we engage with those cues. End of story. 

It seems to me that Bordwell’s primary argument against Chatman’s concepts of the cinematic narrator and implied author is Occam’s Razor. If we don’t need Chatman’s concepts to bundle Bordwell’s stand-alone concepts, then we shouldn’t use them.

Other than naming a cinematic narrator or implied author, it doesn’t seem like Chatman and Bordwell have much of a feud. Bordwell doesn’t deny the existence of unreliability, overarching principles and a governing design in films. He just doesn’t want to add another belle to the terminology ball. And, really, who can blame him? My head is spinning as it is.

In other Bordwell news, I found his explanation of character narrators and flashbacks very helpful to articulate my feelings about Leland’s bit of Citizen Kane and the alternating narrators of The Prestige

Bordwell argues,

One way to justify and clarify the breakup of chronology is to assign a character to tell another about what led up to the current state of affairs. A scene showing the character launching on the tale prompts your understanding that what follows is a flashback. It doesn’t matter that nobody could tell an event with the sort of detail we find in the images shown in the flashback. Nor is there any scandal in the fact hat the narrating character didn’t witness the events that we’re going to see. All that matters is that a scene calls forth in us a mental schema, people tell one another about an event that has occurred, and that triggers only one relevant inference: A time shift is coming up.

In my film history discussion of Citizen Kane last Friday, my peers were incredibly attached to the idea that the characters frame narrating the flashbacks were affecting that flashback’s representation in terms of their subjectivity. Basically, that was a wordy way of saying that they thought Leland’s subjective view of Kane was directly represented in the breakfast sequence. I disagreed at the time, and now I have a Bordwell in my pocket to explain why. Leland never saw the breakfasts. Even if he had, he couldn’t have related it in depth, perspective and surround sound, as we experience it. As I read Bordwell, I found myself agreeing that, in the case of Citizen Kane, the six narrators primarily serve as triggers for the flashbacks and nothing more. I am not saying that there are no moments of subjectivity, because there are (for example, the doubled opera opening). Only that if a character book-ends the flashback, if doesn’t necessarily follow that the character is relating events from their perspective. It is the film that relates information to build our perception of Kane in a specific fashion. 

In the case of The Prestige, I think this concept also holds true. Many of the embedded flashbacks were not motivated by the journals or the court case. We can attempt to slot them into one of these character narrator’s stories, or we can posit the film as relating these incidents (be it cinematic narrator or formal devices). I can envision an argument where the omissions of the journals are actually omissions of the film to create a more powerful reveal of twin brothers and clones. Am I reading this wrong? What do you all think?

Science, The Prestige and Intertextual References

As part-time physicist (who would have thunk it … a second post combining my disciplines) I feel I must set the record straight. I know nobody wants to hear it, but poor Tesla was not a wizard. He was just a physicist who basically invented radio, failed the electricity race and had a unit of magnetic flux named after him. The scene at the fair demonstrating wireless electricity transmission is pretty accurate. Edison went with wires, while Tesla was convinced that electricity could be transmitted to homes through the air by several hubs like the one shown. The only issue is, the voltage required to transmit electricity through the air is roughly that of lightning. In order for the scene with Tesla creating a “human” conduit supplying the bulb with power, he’d have to be dead. Like most things, electricity will travel the path of least resistance, so it would take to the air before going through a human or solid ground.

But don’t lose hope. The magical field of light bulbs is not so impossible these days. HP has patented a method of wireless charging that is not fatal to those humans nearby. Within five or ten years, we should be able to set all our enabled appliances on a special countertop and they will be supplied with power. No wires required. See this article if you’re interested.

On the film front, the magic transporting act sure looks a lot like the preview for the film adaptation of Watchmen, particularly the bit where Jon Osterman is disintegrated and becomes Dr. Manhattan. On a side note, if you’re into graphic novels, or even if you just like morally ambiguous narratives like The Prestige, I highly recommend taking a look at the book. But to the point: the nearly identical blue-electric disappearance of Osterman in the first frame of the trailer got me to thinking. Like the Cahier’s filmmakers, Hollywood has too much readily available film history to be able to make films blind. Such intertextual moments as this one must be purposeful, but to what end, really?

The Illusionist, a similarly themed film, was released concurrently with The Prestige. Same time period, same rivalry over women, opened in theaters a month apart. We can all name several times where this has happened (Antz and A Bug’s Life come to mind) and on a certain level I understand Hollywood’s desire to preemptively imitate a prospective hit. But I’ll be blunt. I don’t like it. Anyway, I’ve realized I can rail against the apparent lack of creativity, or I can try to understand the effects of such narrative strategies. 

Intertextual moments seem to me to work on two levels. On the first, they piggy-back on the distinctive positive qualities of the referenced moment by evoking it in the mind of the viewer. On another level, they “wink” at the informed watcher for being smart enough to make that connection in the first place. We all feel good and everybody goes home happy.

But I watched The Prestige after The Illusionist, which turned out the most unfortunate intertextual references. In The Illusionist, the reveal is that it’s been real all along. So in The Prestige, I felt myself applying the generalized narrative schmata of The Illusionist while I watched, waiting to see if the fabula matched up. Let me be the first to say that this somewhat lessened the impact of my first experience of a fabulous film. Accepting the reveal that it has been magic was a difficult for me as it was for the characters, when I kept expecting the ‘secret’ to be one bound by the laws of physics.

One last side note, and I’m done for the night. Magic is an interesting topic for a film. In a sense, the cinema is magic. The reason we see magicians on stage is that on film, nearly anything can be done to alter the image, which, of course, negates the impact of the trick. Most ‘magic’ films have to make the magic incredible to justify the use of a medium where stage magic is pedestrian. We expect to have the incredible baffle us, and to have the stage magic explained. Both The Illusionist and The Prestige seem to fit into this category.

Not sure what conclusions I can draw out of all this, but there you have it. First thoughts on a first viewing.