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Title: The Digital Revolution and The Future Cinema
Author: Samira Makhmalbaf's Address at Cannes Festival
NetIran (www.netiran.com),10 May, 2000
The Digital Revolution and The Future Cinema
Samira Makhmalbaf's Address at Cannes Festival
Summary: Le Monde daily and the International Cannes Film Festival 2,000 are holding a joint seminar to study the future of cinema after the digital revolution, on 9-10 May, 2,000. There are 40 sociologists, philosophers, writers and movie-makers from all over the world participating in this seminar. Five Asians, including two Iranian movie-makers have been invited to the seminar. Abass Kia Rostami is an old generation and Samira Makhmalbaf is a new generation movie-maker. Samira Makhmalbaf, twenty years old, is taking part in the festival with her second film titled "Blackboard". Her first long film, titled "Apple" was screened in Cannes in 1999. Samira is the youngest film director in the world, who has found her way to Cannes during the history of Cannes Film Festival competitions. The text of Samira Makhmalbaf's address, which was made on May 9, 2000 will be aired published exclusively on the NetIran site.
Cinema has always been at the mercy of political power, particularly in the
East, financial capital, particularly in the West, and the concentration of
means of production, anywhere in the world. The individual creativity of artists
throughout the 20th century has much suffered from the whimsical practices
of this odd combination of forces. The situation at the threshold of the 21st
century seems to have altered radically. With astonishing technological innovations
now coming to fruition, artists no longer seem to be totally vulnerable to
these impediments.
In the near future, the camera could very well turn into the simulacrum of
a pen, comfortably put at the disposal of the artist, right in the palm of
her hand. If, as it has been suggested, "the wheel is the advancement
of the human feet," then we might also say that camera is the advancement
of the creative eye of the film maker. Earlier in the 20th century, because
of the overwhelming weight of the camera, the difficulty of operating it,
and the need for technical support, this eye was cast like a heavy burden
on the thoughts and emotions of the film-make. But today, following the digital
revolution, I can very easily imagine a camera as light and small as a pair
of eye-glasses, or even a pair of soft-lenses comfortably and unnoticeably
placed inside the eye and on the cornea.
Three modes of external control have historically stifled the creative process
for a film-make: political, financial, and technological. Today with the digital
revolution, the camera will bypass all such controls and be placed squarely
at the disposal of the artist. The genuine birth of the author cinema is yet
to be celebrated after the invention of the "camera-pen," for we
will then be at the dawn of a whole new history in our profession. As film
making becomes as inexpensive as writing, the centrality of capital in creative
process will be radically diminished.
This will be particularly the case in cinematic production. The distribution
of our work will of course continue to be at the mercy of the capital. Equally
compromised will be the governmental control and censorship, because we will
be able to "screen" our film on the Internet and have it watched
by millions around the globe in the privacy of their own living room. But
that will not be the end of censorship. Because self-censorship for fear of
persecution by religious fanaticism and terror will continue to thwart the
creative imagination.
If the camera is turned into a pen, the film maker into an author, and the
intervening harassment of power, capital, and the means of production are
all eliminated, or at least radically compromised, are we not then at the
threshold of a whole new technological change in the very essence of cinema
as a public media? I tend to believe that because of the increasingly individual
nature of cinematic production, as well as spectator ship, the cinema of the
20th century will become the literature of the 21st century.
Are we then attending an historical moment when cinema is being in effect
eulogized? Is cinema about to die? Francois Truffaut made a film about the
death of literature with the appearance of cinema. If Truffaut were alive
today, would he not be tempted to try it again and make a film about the death
of cinema at the hand of author digital? Or would he not imagine the grand-daughter
of Tarkovsky or Ford preserving the films of their grand father some where
in the North Pole?
I tend to think that the digital revolution is really the latest achievement
of technological knowledge and not the summation of what artists still have
to say. It is as if this revolution has been launched against certain cinema-related
professions, and not against cinema itself. We will continue to have the centrality
of scenario, creative editing, mis-en-scene, decoupage, and acting. Perhaps
the most affected aspects of the digital revolution will be the actual act
of filming, light, sound, and post-production laboratory works. But certainly
not cinema itself.
In the last decade of the 20th century, the unbalanced relation between the
artist and the technician had reached a critical point that could have very
well resulted in the death of cinema. Today, though, the relation is reversed
and the technological advancements of the instruments of production may in
fact result in the death of cinema as an industry and once again give the
priority to cinema as an art. The digital revolution will reduce the technical
aspect of film making to a minimum and will, instead, maximize the centrality
of the film maker. Thus once again the centrality of the human aspect of cinema
will overcome the intermediary function of its instruments, and film as an
art form will reclaim its original posture.
It seems to me that with the priority of cinema over technique, we will begin
to witness the birth of real auteur film makers. We still lack the presence
of artists, philosophers, sociologists, or poets among the film makers. Cinema
is still in the hands of technicians. Most film schools throughout the world
teach the technical rather than the creative aspects of film making. Of course
the question will always remain whether or not the creative aspects of film
making can really be taught. Whatever the case may be, the cinema is today
by and large limited to those who have access to expensive cameras. For about
six billion inhabitants of the world, today we produce something around 3,000
films every year. Not more than 1000 cameras are the instruments of this sum
of annual cinematic production. When the demographic number of digital cameras
improve dramatically, a massive number of camera-less authors will have an
unprecedented opportunity to express their virgin ideas. Under the emerging
technological democracy, political and financial hurdles can no longer thwart
the effervescence of this thriving art.
Let1s imagine a world in which painting a picture would be as difficult as
making a film and that the ideas of Dali, Van Gogh, or Picasso were to be
implemented by a group of technicians. The digital revolution is like giving
the potential equivalents of Van Gogh and Picasso a brush for the first time.
If Photo Shop or Windows 98 software programs can render Monet, Manet, Pissaro,
Cezanne, or Matisse redundant, then the digital camera can also make Truffaut,
Ray, and Bergman redundant. The digital camera is the death of Hollywood production
and not the death of cinema. We can of course very well imagine that with
the digital revolution we will witness the death of the technicians, when
operating the camera will become as easy as unbuttoning one1s own shirt. Then
will come the death of censorship because "screening" will be as
easy and as direct as putting one1s film on the Internet in the privacy of
one1s home and having it watched anywhere in the world. And finally will commence
the death of capital because the inexpensive means of production will render
it redundant. But would an astronomical increase, thus facilitated, in the
number of auteurs not result in the death of the very idea of the auteur?
The ease with which just about any one can become a film maker will undoubtedly
result in an astronomical increase in the annual and per capita film production
in every society. The increase in the supply of films will result in a decrease
in demand. This will lead to an aggressive competition to overcome the generated
noise that levels everything. The competition among the producers will be
translated into competition among film makers and the potential audience will
soon find itself in a huge supermarket, incapable of choosing a favorite product.
By the end of the 20th century, the film makers were in a position of power
and choice. Would the digital revolution and its ancillary consequence of
a massive increase in film production result in a stalemate where there are
more people to make films than those who are willing to sit quiet in a dark
room for a sustained period of time and actually watch a film? What if buying
and operating a camera is as easy as buying a pen and writing with it? Certainly
there has never been as many great creative writers as there have been pens
in the world. Nor would the inexpensive availability of digital camera mean
the disappearance of the creative film maker. But cinema as an art will certainly
lose its multitudinous audience. The general appeal of cinema may thus be
fractured into more specific attractions, and a division of labor and market
may take place in world cinema. Gradually, in fact, the audience, as consumers,
may begin to dictate the terms of its expectations, and cinematic narrative
may begin to be deeply affected by the expectations of its viewers.
In its technological growth, the camera gradually metamorphosed into a monster
that in order to register the reality that faced it first had to kill that
reality. Remember the scene where the camera and the band of technicians behind
it are all gathered to register a close-up of an actor, while the director
was trying to convince the actor that she was alone and had no hope of meeting
anyone for the longest time. The wretched actor was put in the unenviable
position of trying to ignore the platoon of people behind the camera. But
now the smaller the camera gets the less it will impose its distorting presence
on the nature of reality facing it. The observation of reality will become
more direct, more intimate, to the point that the camera can now be literally
considered as the very eye of the film maker.
If despite all its democratic intentions, Italian Neo-realism could not surpass
the technical limitations of cinema and witness the daily, routine realities,
today such movements as Dogma 95 take full advantage of such technological
advancements and reach for what Italian Neorealism could not achieve. We may
very soon reach a point when a visual journalism will be possible, and cinema,
just like journalism, may be able to perform its critical function in safeguarding
democracy. An event may take place on a Saturday, on the basis of which a
film maybe made on Sunday, screened on Monday and thus have an immediate effect
on the daily making of history.
Will the digital revolution result in a situation where cinema becomes an
increasingly individual form of art? If feature films can now be produced
with a small digital camera and then watched on Internet in a personal computer,
will that technological marvel result in the elimination of the very idea
of a collective audience as the defining moment of a cinematic experience?
Imagine a set of state-of-the-art home audio-visual equipments with screens
as big as a wall of a living room. In such cases one may in fact think of
cinema, just like literature, to become an individual form of art and lose
its social function. If the concentration of the means of production in the
past had thwarted the creative imagination, cinema still had a particularly
social function because of the communal nature of its spectator ship. Any
artist, at the moment of creation, imagines herself in front t of an audience.
That is constitutional to the creative act. If imagining this collective audience
is denied the artist then the result will have a catalytic effect on the creative
process. On the part of the audience the effect is equally detrimental. If
we deny the audience the pleasure of watching a film in the presence of others,
cinema will lose one of its distinct and defining characters.
I believe that cinema has much benefitted from the social nature of humanity
and will not abandon it easily, neither will technological advancement so
swiftly change our communal character. Today, most French people have coffee
and coffee-makers at their home. Why is it that street-side cafes are so full
of people? It is the same urge that will bring people to movie-houses. Cannes
is yet another good example. Although cinema is still a very social event,
the need to be part of an even larger crowd brings us together here at Cannes.
The pleasure of watching a film here at Cannes is incomparably higher than
watching the same film in a smaller festival, in a more modest theater, and
in the company of only a few people. Thus whatever the status of technological
innovations, private screening, production and spectator ship, this collective
urge will continue to guarantee the social function of cinema as an art form.
The social nature of creative imagination will prevent the radical individualization
of cinema even beyond the privatization of the means of production and spectator
ship. The creative act has a vested interest in its remaining social, because
eliminating the audience from the mind of an artist will thwart the creative
process. Art is ultimately intended and targeted towards its audience. In
this respect art is very much like religious practices. Believing individuals
can practice their piety in the privacy of their homes. But the social function
of religion inevitably brings people out to communal practices. If from performing
one1s religious rituals to drinking a cup of coffee continue to be social
acts despite the abundant possibility of their privatization then the collective
need to watch movies in the presence of a crowd will also persist. The irony
of this whole development is that in its historical growth cinema gradually
found itself in a predicament that like architecture every aspect of its execution
was contingent on something else. With the digital revolution, cinema can
now retrieve its own status as an art form and yet by virtue of the same development
it sees its own social function endangered.
What would be the relationship among the digital revolution, the civil function
of imagination and the possibility of a more democratic cinema?
By far the most significant event in the digital revolution is the reversal
of the political control in some countries (particularly in the East), and
of financial control in others (particularly in the West).
There is another, equally important, consequence to the digital revolution.
People in the less prosperous parts of the world have so far been at the receiving
end of cinema as an art form. The history of cinema begins with wealthy and
powerful nations making film not just about themselves but also about others.
This is a slanted relation of power.
Today, one hundred years into the history of cinema, this undemocratic and
unjust relation of power shows itself by the fact that not a single film is
shown from the entire African continent in Cannes this year. Does Africa have
nothing to say? Are Africans incapable of expressing themselves in visual
terms? Or is it the unjust distribution of the means of production that has
denied African artists this possibility. Another example in the unjust distribution
of the means of production is comparing my own family with a nation-state
like Syria. During the last year, Syria has produced only one film, and in
my family two and a half feature films!
With the same logic that the per capita production of film in my family was
increased by my father sharing his knowledge and facilities with the rest
of his family, the digital revolution too will put such knowledge and facilities
at the disposal of a larger community of artists. Imagine new, more diversified,
and far more democratic sections of the Cannes Film Festival in the year 2010,
all occasioned by the digital revolution.
Another crucial consequence of the digital revolution is that cinema will
lose its monological, prophetic voice and a far more globally predicated dialogue
will emerge. Right how some 3,000 films are produced annually for a global
population of some 6 billion people, that is to say one film per twenty million
people . But not all these 3,000 films have the opportunity of actually being
screened. Competition with Hollywood is intense in just about anywhere in
the world. National cinemas are putting a heroic resistance to Hollywood cinema.
Many movie theaters are monopolized by Hollywood productions. There are movie
theaters that are reserved for yet-to-be-made films in Hollywood, while the
national cinemas are on the verge of destruction.
When books were not too many, people considered what was written superior
truth and if a book was found in a remote village they would attribute its
origin to heavenly sources. When books became abundant, this absolute and
sacred assumption was broken and earthly auteurs lost their heavenly presumptions.
In the age of the scarcity of cinematic productions, "Titanic" has
the function of that heavenly book, and our world very much like that small
village.
The prevailing cinematic view of the world is that of the First World imposed
on the Third World. Africa has been seen from the French point of view and
not from the African point of view, nor have the French and Americans been
seen from the African point of view. The digital revolution will surpass that
imbalance. The First World will thus lose its centrality of vision as the
dominant view of the world. The globality of our situation will no longer
leave any credibility for the assumptions of a center and a periphery to the
world. We are now beyond the point of thinking that we received the technique
from the West and then added to it our own substance. As I film maker, I will
no longer be just an Iranian attending a film festival. I am a citizen of
the world. Because from now on the global citizenship is no longer defined
by the brick and mortar of houses or the printed words of the press, but by
the collective force of an expansive visual vocabulary.
A certain degree of techno phobia has always accompanied the art of cinema.
One can only imagine the fear and anxiety that the first generation of movie-goers
felt. Or when for the first time the French saw Lumier1s train on the screen.
The cinema of our future will not be immune to technological challenges and
opportunities that are taking place around us. Beyond the techno phobia of
the previous generations, however, the new generation will play with these
technological gadgets as toys of a whole new game.
It seems to me that this very conference is convened out of a techno phobic
impulse and as a collective mode of therapeutic exercise to alleviate this
techno phobia. Whereas I believe we should consider this event a ritual funeral
for technology. Technology has now progressed so much that is no longer technological!
All we need in order to master the operation of a digital camera is how to
turn a few buttons, as if unbuttoning our jacket in a dark room. That1s all.
We really need not have a great technological knowledge to do so. One of our
conclusions at the closing of this conference could very well be that after
the digital revolution we are all cured of our techno phobia.
A new fear will now preoccupy film makers, and that is whether or not I as
an artist have something to say that other people with a digital camera in
their hand do not. There is a story in Mathnavi of Rumi, one of our greatest
poets, that once a grammarian mounted a ship and headed for the sea. Upon
the calm and quite sea he had a conversation with the captain and asked him
if he knew anything of syntax and morphology. "No," answered the
captain. "Half of your life is wasted," retorted the learned grammarian.
A short while later, the ship is caught in the middle of a huge storm. "Do
you now how to swim," asks the captain from the grammarian. "No,"
says the grammarian. "All your life is wasted," assures him the
captain.
Twenty years ago if someone wanted to enter the profession of film making
she would have been asked if she knew its technique. If she did not, she would
have been told that she was illiterate of about half of the art. Some twenty
years later the only question she needs to answer is if she has an art.