Film & History
About: Film & History is an academic journal. The journal publishes majorly in the area(s): Hollywood & Movie theater. It has an ISSN identifier of 0360-3695. Over the lifetime, 344 publications have been published receiving 1265 citations. The journal is also known as: movie & motion picture.
Papers published on a yearly basis
TL;DR: Reading hand that rocks the cradle is also a way as one of the collective books that gives many advantages, not only for you, but for the other peoples with those meaningful benefits.
Abstract: No wonder you activities are, reading will be always needed. It is not only to fulfil the duties that you need to finish in deadline time. Reading will encourage your mind and thoughts. Of course, reading will greatly develop your experiences about everything. Reading hand that rocks the cradle is also a way as one of the collective books that gives many advantages. The advantages are not only for you, but for the other peoples with those meaningful benefits.
TL;DR: Biressi and Nunn as discussed by the authors discuss the cultural significance of reality TV programming in Britain and demonstrate how this genre (which includes talk and game shows, law and order programming, 24/7 formats, and dramatic reconstruction) has changed viewers' expectations, the definition of celebrity, and the representation of the truth.
Abstract: Anita Biressi and Heather Nunn. Reality TV: Realism and Revelation. Wallflower Press, 2005. 183 pages; $22.50. Therapeutic Culture In Reality TV: Realism and Revelation, Anita Biressi and Heather Nunn discuss the cultural significance of reality TV programming in Britain. Using several case studies, the authors demonstrate how this genre (which includes talk and game shows, law and order programming, 24/7 formats, and dramatic reconstruction) has changed viewers' expectations, the definition of celebrity, and, most importantly, the representation of the "truth." Each chapter reads like a separate essay, but uniting such topics as the documentaries of Errol Morris, re-enactments like The Trench, and the televised death-defying stunts of illusionist David Blaine is the relationship between subjectivity and performance. Further, the emphasis on confession and exhibitionism indicates how pervasive "therapeutic discourse" and "the revelation of trauma" have become in popular culture (7). The initial chapters describe various examples of the observational documentary in order to trace how reality TV programs, with their focus on "ordinary" (i.e. working and middle class citizens) have borrowed from this format. What has been lost, for better or worse, however, is the political, left-leaning agenda of the documentary. State-funded films of the '30s and '40s, for instance, examined the lives of the working class and advocated change, while docudramas (films that used fictional characters to treat real social issues), like Cathy Come Home by director Ken Loach, gave viewers access to tenements and caravans, satisfying voyeuristic curiosity but also exposing the failure of the welfare state to abolish the class barrier in Britain. Yet as film and TV began to focus more and more on narratives of personal trauma, the goal of political advocacy took a back seat to the focus on domestic drama and "narrative-fuelled entertainment" (84). Reality TV programming is both a product of and fuelled by what Biressi and Nunn call a "therapeutic culture," with its dominance of subjective experience and the eroding boundary between public and private. One of the most disturbing examples of the media's and viewing public's fascination with the revelation of personal trauma was the British Everyman documentary series on Court TV, Our Father the Serial Killer. Biressi and Nunn make excellent use of this strange program in which a brother and sister, convinced that their now elderly and harmless-looking father committed a series of grisly murders, retrace the scenes of his alleged crimes. Though the program never proves or disproves the father's guilt, it becomes clear that the siblings were victims of abuse at his hands. That such a trauma-based narrative would attract a large viewing audience and serve as "entertainment" is a topic worthy of its own book. Perhaps the weakest part of Reality TV: Realism and Revelation is its cursory attention to the larger historical context in which reality TV has grown up. The authors make passing reference to changes in technology that have led to audience-driven programs, as well as the breakdown of the economic and social order that allows working class participants in such shows as Big Brother to attain publicity and instant wealth. …
TL;DR: Vera and Gordon as discussed by the authors argue that non-whites in films exist only to prop up the unstable identity of the dominant American group, to act as a mirror reflecting back the supremacy of whiteness.
Abstract: Hernan Vera & Andrew M. Gordon. Screen Saviors: Hollywood Fictions of Whiteness. Rowan & Littlefield, 2003. 203 pages, $75.00. A Huge Subject Bizarre as it may seem, there is not that much difference between a creaky silent film like Birth of a Nation (1915) and a state of the art wonder like Black Hawk Down (2001). Both deal, in essence, with brave, upstanding, loyal white chaps fighting a savage and chaotic horde of people of African descent, and it is abundantly clear which group is the superior. The reason for this continuity is not just the baleful consistency of racism. Rather, it is the need for white maleness to define and assert itself against the idea of the proverbial "other." Nonwhites in films exist only to prop up the unstable identity of the dominant American group, to act as a mirror reflecting back the supremacy of whiteness. This is, in a nutshell, the argument of Hernan Vera's and Andrew M. Gordon's provocative book. Each chapter takes a different aspect of what they term the "sincere fictions" of Caucasian superiority and shows how it operates in various films. Apart from old friends like Griffith's epic and Gone with the Wind, both of which are central to their idea of the "divided white self," the authors examine the film convention whereby non-white races always need to be led to freedom and fulfillment by a Persil-bright messiah (Stargate, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom); they analyze the role of Tahitians in the drama of male authority that exists in different ways in the three versions of Mutiny on the Bounty; they follow the evolution of what might be called the Scarlett and Mammy complex in women's relationships in Imitation of Life (Stahl's and Sirk's) and in more recent productions like Passion Fish. There is plenty more besides. The general message is that, although the archetypes (or stereotypes) may vary according to different historical conditions and cultural pressures, certain concepts remain depressingly constant. Blackness and otherness is passive or savage, comic or servile; the lesser breeds, as Kipling would have put it, are capable only of nurturing whites through their neuroses or of being led by WASPish heroes. Even a righton New Age western like Dances With Wolves turns out to be a story of a white male crisis in which the Native Americans are subsidiary elements in Kevin Costner's psychodrama. It is, in short, a huge subject, but Vera and Gordon (they sound like a bad nightclub act) have not written a huge book. As a result, they suffer from trying to pack too much into the space. Matters are not helped by their use of examples from almost every conceivable non-white image, from African and Native Americans to Vietnamese in The Green Beret, and even the aliens in Men In Black. Because each of these groups raises slightly different contextual questions, the book finds itself skimming over problems or eliding issues that should be separate. For instance, there is a difference between white messiahs operating in their own country (To Kill A Mockingbird) and those spreading their beneficence abroad ( The Man Who Would Be King). …