How does the concept of narrative complexity help us understand The Prestige? How does the conclusion of Torchwood highlight some of the concepts in narratology we’ve been studying this semester? Are there issues in the film and miniseries that these approaches neglect to address?
11 thoughts on “Responses for 10/14”
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
The whole movie aligns magic tricks with telling narratives. It is a blatant analogy: the three-act structure, the self-reflexive discussion of audience, the idea that a magic trick, i.e. story, cannot be successful without a reappearance and a return to its first act. It’s all a huge analogy asking the viewer to deconstruct it. All this is to say that The Prestige is a narrative complex film, for one, because it is highly self-conscious and, in being self-conscious, provides the viewer with a puzzle to put together. It can also be considered a narratively complex film because in creating this puzzle it calls upon temporal reordering. The film is not shown chronologically because the pleasure of the third-act is drawn from having seen the end at the beginning of the film and then returning to it. It is the prestige.
This goes back to exactly to what I was saying in class about the narrative of “The Prestige” mimicking its own dialogue/recipe for the successful execution of a magic trick. Just like in “The Sixth Sense” the entire film is riddled with hints and clues that Borden is a twin, so that by the time that Angier (and we the audience) realize, it is not that far of a stretch and we can go back and make connections.
I agree with Josh that the narrative works as an analogy for a magic trick. However, we don’t really see the end at the beginning. We see what we think is the end, the murder of Angier. Then we see what we think is the real end–Angier comes back and Borden hangs. Then we actually see the real ending and Borden comes back and kills Angier. It’s all wonderfully confusing. At each big reveal, we have to stop and re-evaluate what we’ve seen before. Because there are multiple ‘narrative attractions,’ the earlier ones mask the fact that another twist is coming. Also, the diaries are such an inviting way into the minds of the magicians, and a solution to the puzzle we’ve been presented with, that we don’t look at their source, and we don’t question the narrator. The complexity of the movie serves to distract the audience so we arn’t looking at the important parts of the illusion.
Actually Nora, I disagree with your comment: “However, we don’t really see the end at the beginning.”
In the very beginning, the first words we hear are “are you watching closely?”–and then we are told what constitutes a magic trick–showing the audience something, taking it away, and making it reappear again. That’s almost exactly what happens with Borden–he is alive, the dies, and then he comes back (there are countless other examples of things disappearing and then reappearing wtihin the film).
I think it is pure genius to use both magic and trickery in a puzzle film because it makes it more difficult for us to understand exactly what is going on since the characters don’t even know what is happening. By using a scenario in which a person is trying to trick the world, it is easier to trick the audience within the context of telling the story.
One of the most important things we talked about in relation to The Prestige is the operational aesthetic. We are invested in the story of both Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman’s stories, but are at the same time trying to figure out how the movie works. The film adds another layer in that we are also trying to figure out how the tricks work. While trying to figure out the movie as well as watching the story unfold, we are involved in a dual level of engagement that continues to catch us off guard as the multiple twists are revealed. In other films, such as the Sixth Sense, there is one huge example of so-called “Narrative FX”, but in The Prestige there are multiple tiers of comprehension that may take a second viewing to fully grasp.
It helps the film’s case that it is beautifully filmed visually. We are so obsessed with the grandeur of some of the sets and the great acting (for the most part, though I don’t really like Scarlett Johansen), that we may miss a small detail that is revealed to be important later, such as the multiple top hats at the beginning of the movie. The fact that he plays with temporal continuity is also part of the pleasure of watching. We are confused, but not to the point that we cannot tell what is happening or where in the realm of the fabula time if we pay full attention. The atemporal narration without overt changes in time such as cued flashbacks adds narrative complexity and makes it hard to keep up if you’re not paying attention.
Nora, what I mean by we see the end of the film at the beginning is not that the ending’s secret is revealed at the beginning. What I want to say is we see enough clips at the beginning to recognize at the end that we are returning to the same visual imagery as we saw in the beginning (I know that sentence is loopy and circular, but that’s the point). I.e., A first-time viewer cannot comprehend the entire film by by seeing the top hats on the ground, Michael Caine performing the bird trick in front of the little girl and Hugh Jackman drowning. An second-time viewer, however, will be triggered to remember parts of the plot (on this viewing I did not remember the significance of the little girl, but recalled the trickery behind the drowning). The clips are quick shotgun flashed instants of foreshadowing. The beginning’s visual imagery may prove relevant to Caine’s voiceover and whatever he is saying then, but they will also come into play later at the end of the film, partly because they are temporally from later on in the story’s fabula and secondly because of the satisfaction of returning to something familiar yet far-away.
I think we can all agree that Torchwood really upped the ante in the last episode. I feel that the emotional response that we had to the events was in part due to all the narrative tools it threw at us. The withheld information of why the aliens were using the children was a real kicker. The entire miniseries, the question of why the 456 wanted the children was hanging in the air and I don’t think any of us expected them to be using the children as drugs. The episode also featured temporal events which were repeated but with the narration of the series giving us different information when we revisit the events. The first time we see Jack hug Gwen, that’s all we see. Only later on do we see that Jack told Gwen to make sure Yanto’s niece and nephew were safe. The end flaunts a six month gap in our face. We can only guess what happened in those six months. Obviously Gwen is further along in her pregnancy and Jack has been doing some soul searching across the planet.
Also, the end of the miniseries is typical of the narratively complex episodic serials we have read about in class. The main plot arc of the series comes to an end, with the alien attack being averted. However, we are still left with questions regarding the main characters, propelling us to continue watching the series in the event that it returns for another season. Will Jack forgive himself and come back to earth and Gwen? What’s Jack going to do in space? Will Torchwood, which has protected earth for years, reestablish itself? Only by tuning in again in the future will our questions be answered.
It’s interesting that the only “fake” thing that I found about Torchwood was how Jack left. The whole “you can’t run away”–“yes I can”–*insert flashy/corny/intergalactic dissapearance here*
That bit seemed almost cheesy, but I definitely do think that it was the only thing that could have happened–Jack would have no peace of midn knowing that he willingly sacrificed his grandson and brought great misery upon his daughter… It’s a very in-your-face reminder that sometimes we end up hurting the very people we swear to protect. Sure, it was the “right” course of action–millions of lives traded for the one–but it is still a life. Times of war often blur the lines between right and wrong and in Torchwood this is a very specific example of that.
Showing one of the main characters kill himself, his wife, and his two children seems very groundbreaking for a show… it’s not often you see a murder-suicide on television. I think the acting did a lot to bolster the show’s integrity. Even if the situation seemed a little implausible (aliens coming down to earth to use children as drugs…) the way that the lines were delivered and the character interactions–the very realness of the performances, made it feel real.
It was mentioned in class that one of Nolan’s critiques, as well as a critique of all puzzle films, is their cold and distant feeling. This really hit home for me while watching the Prestige. The movie should be an emotionally intense experience, with a plot line based on revenge and sad and senseless death throughout. Yet, by the end of the movie, I Found myself amazed at the “machinery” of the film, how Nolan was able to continuously dupe the audience and bring the story full circle. Yet, because of this I didn’t really walk away caring about any of the characters in the movie. I wasn’t sad when Borden was wrongfully hanged, I just wanted to know how his transported man worked. I was more amazed than disgusted when Borden (or his brother) finds the dozen’s of dead Angier’s below the theater stage.
However, I do not necessarily see this as a bad part of the film, as it’s this distance from emotions and want of knowledge that got me inside of each character’s head, something films usually have a hard time pulling off. Angier didn’t care about Borden’s hanging either, he wanted the secret.
TV shows, on the other hand, can have the best of both worlds, with enough time to both shock and awe the audience as well as get them emotionally invested in characters. While I’m not the biggest fan of serialized television, I thought Torchwood did an excellent job of this, splitting time perfectly between the relationship of each Torchwood member and their families and the mysterious alien threat.
Other than a few continuity errors, Torchwood had a great ending to the miniseries, which followed many filmic conventions we are used to seeing in serial television episodes. One approach I found interesting was this idea of schedule time, where the time between episodes affects the anticipation and overall outlook on the show’s content. By screening the show in five days one is rapidly invested into wondering what will happen, whom will it involve, and how will the characters resolve the problem. The problem with running serial episodes back to back is that you don’t gain a larger audience so people can watch live with concrete understanding of previous episodes. At the same time, by pushing the boundaries of convention and expectation one allows audiences to tune into future episodes, which I feel the last episode did. Between The Prestige and Torchwood there is an understanding of filmic/television narration, but playing with these principles while allowing audiences to fully immerse themselves in the abstract intrinsic norms vies for a successful experience.
The Prestige makes for an interesting walkthrough, because we are both teased while satisfied with its trickery. Throughout the film we are given hints and clues that ultimately lead us to the climax of the film, but because we are shown particular things not picked up earlier allows the viewer to return to the film with a different “eye.” What does this say about the relationship between audience and creator? Does it say anything?
Just a final thought on Torchwood:
I feel like I had a sense of enjoying the operational aesthetic of Torchwood, of enjoying both the showing and the telling of the story. I felt that the ending was definitely dark and different, as I had mentioned in class, especially if it were being viewed over the course of 5 straight days of a show that appears to pull this off once a year since it’s conception. Hills was definitely right in it being very different and interesting.
But back to the operational aesthetic–I couldn’t believe how dark the ending was and I was pretty wow’d by the actual way the ending took place where the kid was sacrificed–literally watching him freak out and die was visually disheartening as the consequences of the characters in the narrative.
I also feel like I can’t help myself imagining where Jack is going to or where he comes from, seeing how time is out of control in this show’s fabula.