How might you further connect our readings on character with Annie Hall or Torchwood? How do the narratives draw upon both cues within the texts and extratextual elements? Are there other key narrative concepts we’ve discussed that help explain Annie Hall?
9 thoughts on “Responses for 9/30”
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I think Annie Hall takes us away from fabula a lot more than many other films do. Though the film is telling us a story, it takes us out of this story and out of thinking of them as “real people” by breaking the fourth wall so often. Woody Allen always emphasizes things like gesture and expression in showing emotion, and in this film he talks to the audience and his character tells us both what he is feeling and thinking. Since we are taken out of the scene so often to hear his interior monologue, read his thoughts in subtitles, and witness his witty input, we are still thinking but are no longer trying to piece things together as often.
Narration plays a huge part in Annie Hall. When one thinks of a film that’s very narration based, one thinks of films with voice over or from a character’s point of view from after the events take place. Though some of Mr. Singer’s narration is from the future, a lot of it is not. One doesn’t normally think about the characters in the movie actually popping up and speaking to us while the events are occurring. This is an innovative technique and, whether one likes it or not, it should still be appreciated.
The style of Annie Hall also brings in the star persona of Woody Allen that people know so well, including his sarcastic remarks and poking fun at certain groups or stereotypes of people, such as the intellectual in line behind them at the movie theater. In this scene, he separates us even more from the fabula and story line by pulling a random celebrity into the scene, which also takes us out of the realism that the rest of the film presents us with.
Woody Allen completely takes us out of the movie-watching norms by adding his own and his character’s input into scenes. The fact that he starts the movie with a monologue directly to the audience, and intersperses these speeches directly at the camera throughout the film, helps us get into his mind in a completely new way from what we’ve seen before.
What’s also great about Annie Hall, as the film pertains to extratextual information, is that not only will it make references to other people, texts, stereotypes, etc. for the sake of jokes, but it will literally visually give us a reference, such as Marshall McLuhan, and sacrifice time to progress in the story.
In response to Sofia: The “Chain of Events” article we read for Tuesday talks about central characters in two TV series, “Lost” and “The Sopranos.” Character exploration in Lost, according to Pearson, is ‘hermeneutic-driven’ (i.e. provided primarily for the purpose of putting plot puzzle pieces together) whereas in “The Sopranos” character exploration is ‘character-driven’ (i.e. provided solely for the sake of describing character in more detail, regardless of plot function). In other words, Lost uses character elements to reveal new plot twists and to show radical character development, while The Sopranos uses character elements to delve deeper and deeper into the psychological nuances of a relatively static set of characters.
With that new vocabulary in mind I would rehash what Sofia is talking about by calling “Annie Hall” a radically character-driven film. The plot hardly even matters. (There isn’t much of a plot anyway). The hermeneutic is not important in the least. What we pay attention to, rather, is Alvie’s angst, neuroses, eccentricities, personality, inner struggle, etc.
How do we as viewers recognize this film as radically character-driven?
I think, as Sofia points out, it has a lot to do with the narration. We’ve talked about narrative Range, Depth, Communicativeness, Self-consciousness. In the case of Annie Hall, Alvie’s narration is HIGH on the spectrum in ALL of these categories. It has a wide range, often jumping back in time to scenes of Alvie’s childhood (though it is primarily centered on Alvie and his family); it is very deep, reaching into Alvie’s inner thoughts, his petty annoyances, etc.; it is highly communicative, honest, telling us faithfully what the situation is, and what is on Alvie’s mind, even if it serves to denigrate Alvie’s character, AND it is very self-conscious (Alvie addresses the camera on multiple occasions, and he even asks us to corroborate a story–when Annie says ‘wife’ instead of ‘life’).
I think it is this high level of narrative intervention (in all the above categories) that cues us that this film is not about hermeneutic, but about character per se.
Annie Hall fools around so much with range and depth. When we watch the first few minutes of the film, as Woody Allen introduces us to his story with Annie Hall, it’s almost as if we are getting the story from him (foculi?). The story can be interpreted as taking place in his head. It makes some sense when he talks to us/breaks the fourth wall or revisits his classroom because, within that space and depth of his narration, he can revisit and even re-imagine how events go down or went down. It gets tricky, however, when other characters, such as Annie and Rob, join him as he revisits his past and comment on it. Range and depth feel as if they expand in a very innovative and quirky way.
Torchwood also plays around with range and depth, as Gwen, John Frobisher, and the new secretary each know things the other may not know. I think what’s great about depth in the show is that it is very limited with Harkness. Regarding the fabula, we just can’t tell what is going on in his head when he is alive, dead, or in the process of regeneration, and this adds to the mystique of his character and of the show. What goes on with him?! I can only fill gaps…
One more thing to note: I have trouble watching Peter Capaldi play such a weak character in this show, and it’s because I first watched him in the hilarious film In the Loop, where he plays such a mean and tough foul-mouthed character. That previous role is affecting and disturbing my consumption of the text.
I agree with Sofia, it quickly becomes apparent in Annie Hall that this film’s style is to break the fourth wall frequently because it is so self aware. We’re being guided through the story by Alvie, so we’re at the mercy of his nervousness, tangents, and we’re experiencing the relationship with him. In this sense, I completely agree with James that the plot is character driven. It’s all about how Annie affects Alvie and how he struggles with the relationship.
It’s interesting to think about comprehension in Annie Hall. How does the viewer make sense of the story, and distinguish the storyline from other tangents and jokes? Like James and Dustin said, this movie has huge range and depth. As we learned in the reading about Annie Hall, it was a challenge for the filmmakers to capture the viewer through such range and depth. It simply didn’t work. The solution was to focus on Annie. By knowing that the movie is about Alvie’s relationship with Annie (we can infer this from the title, among other things) we can distinguish what information is important for the plot and what’s not. What we know about Woody Allen’s star persona also affects our comprehension. We can assume it won’t be your typical Hollywood movie, and we’re not necessarily guaranteed a happy ending. The audience will probably be going in with the expectation that the film has an anxious, self-deprecating tone.
I also loved the way he used voice over at the end. After having his voice as a strong presence throughout the movie (this was set up in the first 2 minutes, when we were “taught” how to view the film) it was extremely touching when he ended the story with a voice over while life goes on and the traffic moves by.
I found Pearson’s discussion of the role character biography plays in serial television to apply specifically to episode three of Torchwood, which we just watched in class. Pearson believes that in serial television character biography “augments character” and “introduces the novelty and divergence necessary in a long-running programme.” At the very end of episode three, it is revealed to the viewer via flashback that Captain Jack had given 12 children to the 456 in the 1960s. The particular flashback we are given is an altered version of one that had been shown in the show previously. This realization throws a twist into the narrative, positing the hero Captain Jack as a villain. This addition to Captain Jack’s biography not only adds another dimension to his character it raises questions which will expand the narrative in a unique way. What was the reason Captain Jack gave the children as a present to the Aliens? Is he really evil? These cliffhangers presented to us at the end of the episode propel Torchwood towards a direction that I was not expecting.
Here again, as Bordwell says, the text is strategically triggering the formation of hypotheses to stimulate our interest in the narrative. If it was revealed in the original flashback that Captain Jack had presented the children to the aliens originally, we’d be dealing with a much different narrative and discourse time would be shortened to some extent. I also believe that the narrative would be nowhere near as interesting if they had not withheld that particular piece of story information until now.
hmm…maybe i should have posted this on the torchwood thread…
Author, Fotis Jannidis, mentions that a “’character’ is used to refer to participants in storyworlds created in the media in contrast to ‘persons’ as individuals in the real world.” Thematically, believability is the one of the most significant elements—and essential to narrative comprehension—in psychological association between viewer and character persona. In Woody Allen’s, Annie Hall (1977), we immediately become immersed and arguably “conflicted” when our first face is Woody Allen confiding his thoughts and feelings through less than comedic jokes. For approximately one minute and forty seconds Woody Allen is speaking to “us” explaining that he, Alvy Singer (Woody Allen), can’t understand why his girlfriend, Annie Hall (Diane Keaton), broke up. Separate from Alvy’s time frame, we the audience infer, fill in gaps, make connections, ask and answer questions, and even draw upon extra-textual knowledge of the filmmaker to figure out where we are, what happened, and predict what will potentially happen throughout the rest of the film.
Conversely, Roberta Pearson mentions the notion that “extra-textual evidence can only get us so far.” In Torchwood, many of us did not know anything about the BBC based show, thus I feel we become much more critical with character development within a story: especially when the show has not been commercialized to the broader public. At the same time, Pearson believes the audience members, as well as the producers, analyze and perceive characters as summations of actual persons. Here, the justifications for many unusual happenings within such world(s) (i.e. Torchwood) are much more acceptable than many theorists care to comprehend. Thus, characters Jack Harness (John Barrowman), Gwen Cooper (Eve Myles), and Ianto Jones (Gareth David-Lloyd) can be involved in extraterrestrial phenomena.
These conventions continue to play significant parts in our understanding of narrative comprehension. Though Annie Hall finds an alternate route to communicate interior feelings and objectify the subjective situations (i.e. juxtaposing both Annie’s family with Alvy’s family) of character predicament, it still plays on our ability to adapt to intrinsic norms developed in the film. Hence, the consistent reference to the “audience” throughout the film. And because of this, we do not mind that we’re only being receptive to a single character’s restricted knowledge of their personal situation. In Torchwood, we become invested with a more omniscient perspective and are invested to see how these relationships will interact when/if they meet. Both screenings use the filmic and narrative conventions we are used to in order to their unconventional styles Bordwell would immediately identify.
I would say that it makes perfect sense, in light of Newman’s cognitive analysis of character in “Characterization as Social Cognition in Welcome to the Dollhouse,” that the original Annie Hall had to necessarily be different from the one we know today. Rosenblum describes the first cut of Annie Hall as having a “stream-of-consciousness continuity” and “rambling commentary,” being like a “visual monologue.” He cites Marshall Brickman’s assessment of the original version: “it was funny, but, I felt, nondramatic and ultimately uninteresting, a kind of cerebral exercise.” Rather than being a story with characters whose motivations drive the series of actions and events, the first cut, judging by the descriptions, may have resembled something more akin to a comic stand up routine than a story or narrative.
The decision to make the film more about the romantic relationship between two people seems to be consistent with the overall cognitive theory of film storytelling. Newman argues that “characterization functions as social cognition.” We attribute beliefs, desires, and emotions, and relationships to characters because we see them as people. In the case of Annie Hall, I believe that the film functions as a more compelling narrative, from the point of view of the audience, when we can identify with unique, individual characters, like the neurotic Alvy or the goofy Annie, who are goal-oriented. In being goal oriented, they make events happen and we can attribute their behavior to psychological motivations. In the case of Alvy, I think we are clearly meant to attribute his personality traits to his own innate disposition, even though there are scenes which communicate how his disposition developed via his upbringing under a roller coaster in Brooklyn.