An Amazing Cinematherapy Workshop will held on February 20-25, 2011 at Esalen Institute, Big Sur, California. Brigit Wolf inform us that this is an esperential workshop…
Inquiries into our emotional responses to movies open a window to our soul. How we relate to a film's archetypal motifs reveals our inner life. Together we build a bridge between our realizations in "reel" life and our experiences in real life. Watching films with conscious awareness makes us recognize aspects of our shadow self, and help us find our authentic self and essence.
You can find complete workshop description here. Registration: 831-667-3005 or mailto:info@esalen.org Good Luck With Your Workshop, dear Birgit! We continue to follow the the guide lines of your work. Cinema-dramtherapy Team Cinema-dramaterapia Team (listed in Cinematherapy.com Professional Directory)
Italian Comedy, could its contents provide an interpretation for the spirit and custom of other places, we wonder, given the strong typicality of the characters and of the actors, the directors, the contexts which made it? This is, of course, a rhetorical question, since the history of culture and cinema in the last 40 years has clearly demonstrated that our good old ‘comedy’, that kind of theatre in the cinema - that’s how I like to think of it - has attracted audiences from all over the world.
I am referring to films such as Totò Cerca Casa (1949), by Steno-Monicelli; Il Vedovo Allegro (1949), Totò Sceicco (1950), by Mario Mattoli; La Banda degli Onesti (1956), by Camillo Mastrocinque; Nata a Marzo (1957), by Antonio Pietrangeli; I Soliti Ignoti (1958), La Grande Guerra (1959), Risate di Gioia (1960), I Compagni (1963) and L'Armata Brancaleone (1966), by Mario Monicelli; Il Buono, il Brutto e il Cattivo (1966), by Sergio Leone... just to mention but a few. Mario Monicelli, in an interview with Francesca Arceri entitled ‘The Bitter Smile of the Italian Comedy’, states: "[...] Yes, because in fact [audiences] laugh. Not just in Italy. The French laugh, the Americans, the Chinese. The Chinese love Italian Comedy, they even dub it. You should hear Toto’ speaking Chinese! It is universal, because the feelings are the same, they do not change neither through centuries nor through countries.” That special quality of making people smile, or even laugh intensely, on dramatic themes referring to the struggle of life in the city jungle of a civilisation that has the courage of showing its fragile and vulnerable side and doesn’t have cultural borders. This leaves the conscience suspended and has turned these films into rural and city poems, unhinging for a while the rigid boundaries between good and evil, ugly and beautiful. This is the quality of a humanity and creativity able to use irony in the attempt of debunking the anatomy of man, so as to return him to the affection of the community, whether it be the family, the social group, the gang, the street. A lesson of high-quality art, which can be certainly used in cinema therapy for these very reasons and which offers a wide range of situations and themes.
Italian Comedy, through the performances of the great Italian actors of the time, has gifted us with a range of characters portrayed mercylessly in their meanness and in their narrow views in life, in their interests, in their behaviour. These characters were not at all exemplar nor praiseworthy, but they were described and played with such mastery that, through the involvement of the heart, they have entered collective awareness, in spite of the fact that they might be petty thieves, cheats, deceivers, illiterate people, sexists, cheap libertines, and so on. The meanness, the chronic hunger are those of Pantalone, Pulcinella, Harlequin, but the glorious heritage of the masks of the Commedia dell’Arte is not enough to redeem them, because their deficiencies are deep, even if justified by the historical circumstances (the war, the rebuilding of the country) or the cultural ones (the suburb, the small-town mentality) in which the plot takes place.
And yet, I reckon that if we wanted to find in cinema the prototype of the great hero, we would need to look amongst the characters of the Italian Comedy (obviously, the high-quality one). No, let’s not expect that we may find among the minor characters a brave young man, with blond hair waving in the wind, who will be the counter-party to the risible protagonist. They are the real heroes: the characters played by Fabrizi, Gassman, Sordi (and your hands shake while you write their names), the Roman, boating and fearful, the quiet middle-aged man, the beaten boxer and the new mask, Toto’, just to mention a few.
No Rambos, no Indiana Jones, no steel muscles, no steady nerves, no contempt for danger. Here we are talking about something different: “Courage, if you don’t have it, you can’t make it up” is what Don Abbondio used to say. But is it really so? I don’t mean to contradict Manzoni who, by the way, with this statement doesn’t express his own opinion, but a reflection consistent with the personality of his character (who was aptly performed by Alberto Sordi in the latest TV version of The Betrothed).
Personal experience teaches many of us that courage and heroism can be daily bread, how else can we define that quiet and unflagging strength that helps us bear discomforts, uneasiness, and problems? Are we less of a hero than, say, an army leader, when we face or cause change? The world is full of silent, unknowing heroes. Well then, the tradition of Italian Comedy shows this tension towards greatness, the great deed, which abides even in the most unworthy conscience. I reckon, without having to refer to books on the subject, that courage, whether it be the great action or the small doses of daily heroism, is the evolutionary heritage of the human species. It took courage to abandon the comfortable life on top of the trees and the hunter-gatherer habits, in order to learn to stand and conquer a new territory.
Often, in many films, the heroic act comes at the end and it is unexpected, dramatic, it is able to subvert the plot. Shall we mention the ending of The Great War, which is not exactly a light comedy, in which the Roman Oreste Jacovacci and the Milanese Giovanni Busacca, after having survived through small tricks to the dangers of the front, choose to be shot rather than being humiliated by the contempt of the Austro-Hungarian official. Or shall we mention Alberto Sordi who finds love and dignity when he pushes in the swimming pool, with a sound blow, the latest politician of whom he had agreed to be the assistant, because he’s had enough of A Difficult Life.
And then the best, the most magnificent scene. The only bad word Totò ever pronounced in one of his films, an expression which, in the circumstances, and said by a true prince, resounds more than the most noble blare of trumpet. We see the heroism overflowing, breaking in, HAVING to reveal itself. Little by little, it breaks open the moral misery in which the colonel of the Italian army, played by Toto’, had wrapped himself. Let’s observe the eyes of the Italian soldiers lined up and waiting for their colonel’s decision: don’t you think you see the certainty, the trust, that the moment of the moral redemption, their own and their colonel’s, is inexorably approaching?
And don’t you feel like becoming part of the catharsis from those mean characters who brought us through a war of occupation made of miseries, petty plots, and mean abuse of power, without values and without ideals? Even if it were a catharsis summarised by the very Italian, Neapolitan, gesture performed by Nino Taranto in the background, a gesture that is absolutely natural and common in our culture, of sending with your hands a kiss of approval. It’s all here, in this scene from The Two Colonels.
“The rest is silence” from Hamlet, by W. Shakespeare
(English Translation, courtesy of E. Bianchi, Scotland)
A new post was recently added on our dramatherapy twin blog, called Dramatherapy: love and destruction in a phrase, inspired by the film Downfall. The post was meant to introduce and comment on part of the creative and emotional journey experienced by the group involved in the representation of Ionesco’s Rhinocéros. The work is dramatic and complex and has many levels of reading: historical-documentary, psychological, ideological, or simply narrative. Here we would like to analyse some, more specific aspects, which are linked to the representation of the character of Adolf Hitler.
The film is partially based on the short stories written by Traudl Junge, who was the dictator’s secretary in the last days of April 1945, in the Reich Chancery bunker. It shows the events taking place in the Führerbunker, and the dynamics between the inhabitants of this last bulwark of Nazism. While Germany is on its last legs and Berlin is about to fall, the Führer is planning the impossible and absurd redemption of the great Reich, keeping an indifferent and unfeeling attitude to the fall now imminent. With Hitler, in the final madness, are involved Eva Baun, Joseph Goebbels and his whole family, the dictator’s faithful followers and his domestic helpers. The epilogue of the film is consistent with the known historical truth: the last-minute wedding, the suicide, few survivors, amongst them the young secretary, Traudl Junge, who will be declared innocent by the War Tribunal, because of her young age.
Many years after the events in the film, in more than one interview, Traudl Junge will painfully state that she still feels guilty and conniving, and that she never considered her young age at the time of the events as an alibi or an attenuating circumstance. The young woman, acquitted by the War Tribunal, is guilty according to the tribunal of her own conscience. A very hard conclusion, which can be shared if we assume that there are different levels of personal responsibility and that lack of awareness, conniving with power, ignorance and passivity hold the black soul of the world. How can a girl, who is just 22 and is coming from a small town – and who, by the way, was not even a member of the Nazi party – have so completely complied with an ideology of death that she feels like a criminal after so many decades?
The answer is in the film. The possibility of representing the events from more than one point of view, so that everybody is the main character, is the great strength of cinema and theatre, especially if they are representing historical facts. The audience is given a chance to understand, globally, the dynamics and the motivations of the events told, which, through other forms of narration, would only be highlighted through processes of analysis and synthesis much more articulated and complex.
The situation described in the film, quite aside from its historical context, is extreme. Without doubt, the young Traudl in the film is portrayed as being green and, since she is here in a situation outside either an historical or a humane context, she lacks the ethical and cultural landmarks with which she could potentially relate.
Bruno Ganz, who plays the role of the Führer, creates an extremely distressing character: moments of utter frenzy alternate with moments of goodness, understanding, and even kindness. Take as an example the scene in which he is selecting his future secretary, behaving rather like a father-figure, and then chooses Traudl, the girl from Munich, as his close collaborator. Think about the tenderness in his strokes to his dog, about his extreme faithfulness to Eva Braun, or even about the shaking of his hand, which may remind the audience of their elderly people afflicted by Parkinson’s Disease.
When this film was shown in the cinemas, it left part of the critics speechless: too daring the representation of the character’s contradictions; too dangerous to show Hitler’s human side and to turn him into an everyday person; unimaginable that the audience should be invited to feel even a little empathy for the Parkinson trembling or for the strokes to the dog. The risk of outrageous revisionism was felt as being just around the corner. In my opinion, the film is far from running this risk. It shows cruelly a reality both simple and terrible. It would be perfect if instinct of death and destruction, indifference towards other human beings, abuse of power, deception, and all that is related to the concept of “evil” could always be easily recognisable. It would be a great advantage if the biblical mark of Cain were visible and immediately identifiable, as this would allow us to immediately recognise those who have chosen evil as their guide in life. There is no revealing smell of sulphur to signal the presence of evil, nor the ambiguous and disturbing beauty of a fallen angel, maybe fighting with its creator or maybe just longing to experience its individuality. Evil, the Devil, and black souls are subtle and astute: they hide behind an appearance of normality, they violate the locks of the human consciousness with the picklock of triviality, of discretion, and of a low profile. Seeing the film as “The Fall” is maybe one of the less passive approaches for the audience. It involves senses, emotions and moral principles. Just to mention a few effects: amazement at the cruelty in the suicide dynamics (e.g. Magda Goebbels); maybe sense of guilt if, for the fraction of a second, we felt Hitler’s kindness in dealing with Traudl; anger in seeing two women relaxing, while smoking outside the bunker a clandestine cigarette, taken by the pleasure of the situation, and utterly oblivious to the rubble around them. A piece of work like this could leave a sensitive audience feeling an uneasiness which, if not “processed”, would be a missed opportunity. The awakening of one’s conscience
brings new questions on one’s moral principles, on one’s ability to discern, on one’s role in the context in which one lives and works, on the wise use of critical sense and free will. These are not only the cornerstones of an individual’s ethics, but also the elements on which the identity and the perception of the individual are defined, as well as the fullness and steadfastness that may be called “wellbeing”.
All in all an extremely rich starting point for Cinema Therapy.
Movie: Trailer of The Downfall: Hitler and the End of the Third Reich Directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel
Produced by Bernd Eichinger Written by Joachim Fest, Bernd Eichinger, Traudl Junge, Melissa Müller Starring Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Corinna Harfouch, Ulrich Matthes, Juliane Köhler Music by Stephan Zacharias Cinematography Rainer Klausmann Editing by Hans Funck Distributed by Constantin Film, Newmarket Films (English subtitles) Release date(s) September 16, 2004 (Germany), February 18, 2005 (USA) Running time 156 minutes (original cut), 178 minutes (extended cut) Country Germany, Italy, Austria Language German, Russian Budget €13,500,000 Gross revenue $92,180,910
As we have recently said during various online discussions, we think that using nature documentaries in the specific context of cinematherapy is absolutely justified, also, as in the case of the March of the Penguins, in cartoon versions.
There is a wide range of contexts in which these documentaries can be used, from those in which the objective is to re-evaluate and recreate the goals of a person’s life (temporarily contracted in the experience of the single person or of the group), to those in which the aim is to underline the importance of resources that are not finding expression.In these situations, the passage that can metaphorically express creatively typically human behaviour (the animal made human) comes back to the person involved with corrections that would be hard to accept with common sense. To be clearer... Modern society has long lost the use of myth and is oriented more to a digital sense than to an analogical one, it doesn’t easily allow process-judgement, nor the underlying caption to the cinema-text, nor the moral teaching. The message of the plot can thus more easily avoid the blocks of censorship and the superficial judgement of rhetorical emptiness, which would otherwise be perceived, and work deeply on the individual. The candour of the animal character, somehow made human, is accepted; therefore critical sense and sense of absurdity, which could be raised by symbolic elements of the text, are bypassed.
In the film March of the Penguins the little animal’s ability to move from the depth of the ocean to the hard, but possible, land is, for example, an important metaphor of the possibility of finding out abilities and resources of which we are not aware; just like the penguin’s march is a good example of a path towards change, toward the possible re-definition of roles.
The generation gap, so strongly highlighted and parodied in the script of the film, suggests reflections overcoming the formal criticism of what is well-known and taken for granted, because it is animals talking about us. The issues tackled are of natural laws as well as of human psychology.
The theme of suffering, of defeat, and that of courage and of the gratuitous way in which favourable events take place, thus seeming to reward perseverance, risk-taking, the wait for something positive can unfold themselves in unexpected environments. This gives them originality and provides the audience with a new point of view. Scientific facts made into a story in the text end up giving strength and credibility to more important messages about relationship, personal attribution of sense, life objectives.
In the final part of the film, man is forced to face himself, his ability to hide truth, to use it selfishly for his own exclusive advantage, or else to change it into an element of progress both for the individual and for the group.
Implied in the story is the fact that all the characters in this kind of documentary or film, both the animals and the human audience, are part of the same territory and need to find a way to cohabitate harmoniously on the same planet.Loneliness, loss of the feeling of belonging to a group, antisocial or unsociable aspects of some personalities can all receive some new suggestions, which could work as motivations for redefining roles in a silent dream of personal stories apparently lost in the conscious memory and then recovered through a positive regression stimulated by the show and for the use of the individual’s Ego.
Photos: fromMarch of the Penguins Filmography: Directed by Luc Jacquet Produced by Yves Darondeau, Christophe Lioud, Emmanuel Priou Co-Producer: Jean-Christophe Bar Executive Producer:Ilann Girard Written by Luc Jacquet, Michel Fessler Narrated by Charles Berling, Romane Bohringer, Jules Sitruk, Amitabh Bachchan, Morgan Freeman Music by Émilie Simon, Alex Wurman (US version) Cinematography Laurent Chalet, Jérôme Maison Editing by Sabine Emiliani, Studio Bonne, Pioche, APC, Buena Vista, International Film, Production France, Wild Bunch, Canal+, 'Institut Polare Français, Paul-Émile Victor, National Geographic Films Distributed by Warner Independent Pictures (US), Lionsgate (Canada), Maple Pictures (theatrical Quebec (east of Canada), Alliance Films (theatrical Toronto (west of Canada) Release date(s)
France: 26 January 2005 Canada: 20 May 2005 United States: 24 June 2005 (limited), 22 July 2005 (wide) United Kingdom: 9 December 2005 Australia: 19 October 2006 Running time 85 minutes, 84 minutes (US version) Country France Language French (original) Gross revenue $77,413,017
We are going to talk about quality nature documentaries and our specific topic is filming nature live, without manipulations, fixings, embellishments on the subject or on the environment. We wish to analise the possibilities and potentialities of using documentaries on wild nature in cinematherapy. The success of this genre is unquestionable. Think, for example, of the recent March of the Penguins, a French film-documentary showing these animals facing a long and difficult march though the ice of Antarctica to grant the survival of the species.
Few colours: the white of the location, the two-coloured coat of the penguins, the blue of the sky and the range of greys of the ice storms. Few characters: the penguins rarely interact with other animals, dramatic fights against predators are almost non existent, man and his works are (obviously) absent. Yet the film, which came out in Italy in 2005, had an extraordinary success and the Italian commentary of a much-loved actor such as Fiorello was just a bonus to a work based on the fascination of a real and hard story to be told without concessions. It won the bet!
This and other similar works have much-deserved success. They are based on a similar inspiration, similar stylistic coherence, similar purposes. In all cases, there’s a film in the film. Few minutes of straight filming, directed with the eye and the spirit of the observant naturalist, are often the reward for days laying in wait, monitoring, complex expedients aimed at the same time at avoiding interference with the natural environment and at obtaining good results from a technical point of view. The general interest for this genre could be due to something that often happens in the field of environmental education and biology of conservation, in which I work. Amongst people working in this field there’s a story about a primary school in Rome: when the children were asked to name some wild animals, most of them mentioned the gnu, not considering species that are more familiar to our environment, such as hedgehogs and foxes. It’s a surprising answer at first, but it is probably not so surprising considering that there is a new urban generation of children who have never seen a firefly (they have just come back to our parks and gardens after their population had gone down because of pollution) and have long been familiar with the life cycles of exotic animals through TV documentaries.
The aims of nature documentaries are praiseworthy, they educate, inform, transmit values, and sometimes amuse or initiate reflection. They do not allow concessions, no happy ending or, better, the happy ending is implied, sometimes, in the plot, because, if you can record the full life cycle of an animal or of a herd or pack, you can show the success of evolution, the triumph on the elements, the fulfilment of a life adventure. Nonetheless, it is impossible to hide from the audience images and concepts at the basis of science, the certain death of a wounded or abandoned cub, the cruel (but never unbalanced) predatory fight, the destruction of environments because of natural or human causes.
So we may wonder how effective and how appropriate it is to use such documentaries in cinematherapy. Quite aside from the educational value of the nature film/documentary, because it shows correctly the laws of nature, when and how is it possible to use it in cinematherapy, considering that (as you can see in the column on the side) the choice of the show is left to the subject/patient?
Our personal answer as an enthusiast of the subject is that this genre should be used to enhance the personal resources of the individual. For example, in the film March of the Penguins the Darwinian concept of the survival of the fittest (and not the strongest!) is correctly shown and this can help understand how important and necessary it is to push one’s boundaries, to get to know one’s environment and its threats, to learn a new discipline of oneself, to be flexible in one’s goals and to free oneself of fears.
As part of the new Dramatherapy for Resources Training, starting on 9th April in Rome, is a module on cinematherapy. The scientific back up of the course is by the Dramatherapy Workshop Freemind, under the aegis of the Italian Society of Experimental and Clinic Applied Hypnosis and of the Institute Roman School Rorschach.
The Course, directed by the Roman psychiatrist and psychotherapist Ermanno Gioacchini, will be organised in seminars, conferences and evening workshops (Friday nights), with the participation of trainers having a psychology background and of trainers coming from the world of entertainment. The methodology that will be used is based on the principle that dramatherapy can be used as a method allowing the participants to express creatively their own ‘artistic process’ through a wide range of activities, such as acting, hypnodrama, storytelling, music, play, mime, and dance.
Participants will be guided to experimenting and working on a personal interpretation of the language of theatre, which goes through both the stages of self-discovery, discovery of one’s body and its expressive potential, and the stage of reformulation of a new relationship with the outside world – space, objects and other people.
The first meeting will be held on Friday 9th April, at 8.00 pm. Places are limited.
For information and registrations, please contact:
CDIOT - Tel 0039-335-8381627 - Fax: 0039-06-86211363/70
