Post 7

“Mainstream films that foreground art, as well as most that background it, induce a rather curious tension, as the reflexive presence of art threatens the seductive flow of the fictional world with a spasm of viewer self-consciousness. This is why we refer to such works as reflexive: it is as though a mirror had been held up to the beholder. The work of art en abyme reminds the viewer that she is viewing. It is interesting, then, to consider what is at stake in such representation.” (Fellman 28)

When dealing with stories of real individuals, how much responsibility do you have to telling their story as accurately as possible? It is with this question that I began my last response, and it feels appropriate to return to this question in response to the Susan Fellman reading. Artistic liberty appears to be a paradigm for true expression. It is difficult to create without freedom. Artists fight fervently to retain some semblance of freedom, and even within a particular genre they are expected and encouraged to take a model and make it their own. So, it would appear likely that this same philosophy would follow cinematic art. Filmmakers often fight studios and producers to have their vision fully realized. While in my last response I displayed frustration at the skewering of Artemisia’s life in Artemisia, Fellman’s piece altered my opinion a bit. It put back into place my perspective of film as an art form. And as an art form, I feel obliged to honor it with the same reverence as any other art form. Though Artemisia does take great liberties with the history of the artist, the filmmaker should reserve the fashion whatever tale she wishes. So long as she is not peddling the film as an absolute factual account (which is not the same as calling something based on a true story) she has maintained her artistic integrity. The basic function of film, like any other art form, is to tell a story. Agnes Merlet’s film tells a story, and though it is not the story the audience expects, it is not necessarily a bad one. It is an interpretation, and it is critical that the viewer understands it as such. As stated earlier, we as consumers of art must also be careful to view film with the same critical eye as any other art form. Picasso’s Guernica is not a literal retelling of the Spanish Civil War, but we take its lack of realism at face value. It is an individual’s interpretation of a real event and a viewer of it can not praise it in one breath and decry another like it in the next.

Now, in establishing a proper scope in which to view the film Artemisia, a proper critique can be served. The film is quite honestly abhorrent in what it claims to be and what it actually is. It is not a feminist film, and any artistic integrity that could have been relegated to Merlet is almost denied in that simple fact alone. Fellman appears to hold a similar sentiment in her statement, “A film ought not be judged by its literary or historical fidelity, but in evaluating one that touts its historical basis and its feminist heroine-and was directed by a self-professed feminist, to boot-one must object strenuously to such distortions (Fellman 29).” To continue down this line of thought would prove redundant for me though, considering the critiques offered in my last post. What appears more relevant is how the scope of viewing films should reflect on the film Camille Claudel. While it holds a similar theme to Artemisia, in the sense that love and sex breeds art, the film is much less polarizing. And frankly, it does claim to be something it is not. If anything, it views like a PBS Masterpiece Theatre film, or an A&E special on art in the 19^th century. Unlike Fellman, I did not connect the ‘madness of the mud’ theme to the objectification of Claudel. Instead, I made a negative assumption that that was just how most sculptors were viewed at the time. Further, I connected Claudel’s descent into insanity as a common theme of all artist being a little insane, as defined by modern media. This may appear to be a rather non-analytical approach to the material, in comparison to Fellman’s views, but as critical consumers of media, critiques should be offered outside of the obvious. It is so easy to see objectification in nearly any story, but if the consumer is so focused on one flaw, it may miss the many others. This is not to say that Fellman’s critique does not hold merit, but it feels a bit one-note in the constant stream of discussion surrounding gender depictions.