One of the most difficult things about reading The Odyssey for me is that so many sub-stories and sub-characters are referenced throughout the book. Seeing as I did not grow up around the time it was written or with a vast knowledge of the gods, I found it difficult to keep up with all the background stories. It kind of reminded me of watching an episode of Gilmore Girls and having a ton of obscure pop culture references thrown in your face. I did not feel very emotionally attached to the characters, probably in part due to the pure excess of them. So many things happened in such a short period of time, but they were glossed over. For example, a countless number of men died within sentences, but there was no time to focus on those losses. The apathetic attitude distanced me from feeling much emotion while reading.
One interesting aspect of Contempt's narration has to do with the pacing of the film. Given the slow pacing of the film, the relatively mundane plot, and the unnerving attention to detail, as seen in the exceedingly long apartment fight scene, this film ceases to be a story, at least in the American concept of the idea. Instead of forming what the audience expects of the notion of the idea of story, the film forms an exhibition of some kind. In the case of this film, this exhibition could be said to be an insight on love in the age of the all powerful, egotistical sense of identity. Regardless of what "messages" are present in the film or not, the devices mentioned above convey the true impact of the film, an impact that comes from thought instead of viewing. This might be why most Americans find foreign films boring, as they are expecting the story of the film to be unfolded in front of their eyes and given to them.
Ever since I first encountered The Odyssey when I was younger, I've always had a fascination with Greek Mythology, so to read the story again was great. After watching Contempt and reading Homers poem, I could see parallels between the two. Like in many Greek Tragedies, the protagonist of the story usually suffers from one fatal flaw. In this case it was Odysseus' arrogance, this was the cause of much of his pain and suffering. In the film, Jeremy Prokosch, the producer has an ego, arrogance, anger, and sense of entitlement that makes Charlie Sheen seem timid. It might have been due to this fact in the end of the film he suffers an ill fate. In both, film and poem, there involves a woman torn between her husband and another suitor, although the two differ in "her" choice.
When it comes to the structure of the narration in these two pieces there are no similarities to be found. The Odyssey begins with the poet asking from the Muse to give him inspiration and encourages to "start where she wills". From there on, the rest of the epic's narration continues in a non-linear fashion, operating on flashbacks, in contrast to Le Mepris, which is told through linear narration. One thing they have in common however, is that they're both reflexive in recognizing the presence of "a poet" as a narrator. In the case of Le Mepris, the author is Godard himself, who by including a movie within his movie, hints to the film as a medium of communication and underlines his presence as the director of this medium. Godard with Le Mepris created an Odyssey within an Odyssey, as the leading characters of the film correspond with these of the Odyssey, with Paul being Odysseus, Camille being Penelope, and Prokosch being Odysseus enemy, Poseidon.
Within the film, Fritz Lang is directing a modern version of the Odyssey that doesn't evolve around a hero's journey home to his faithful and patient wife. Instead Lang sees the modern Odyssey to be a story about a wife's contempt towards her husband's decision not to return. That version is also Godard's view the modern Odyssey as it is told through the story of a married couple. Godard's modern version lacks a great factor that Homer's Odyssey was actually based on, that being the presence and influence of the Gods on the characters. But, in Godard's film there is no fair justice to and no divine assistance. Like the God's of ancient Greece, the gods of Godard's film are merely the resemblance of the mortals. Le Mepris shares more in structure with ancient tragedies. A larger-then-life problematic situation, that of fading emotion within a marriage, a problem so common, but yet so complex. In Godard's Odyssey the tragic hero is Camille, who finds catharsis upon her death. Both Homer and Godard take the viewer/reader on a voyage, but Homer uses words, while Godard uses images.
It seems that in order to examine the narrative techniques of Le Mepris, we need to focus on the use of visual language (i.e. the mis-en-scene). More to come
The first post concluded with a comment about distance and emotion which enabled me to draw some connections between the epic poem and the film with regard to the notion of masculinity. The Greek concept of masculinity (and to some degree too, the modern version) eschews the expression of emotion. The Odyssey does not dwell on how the men feel but, rather, what the men do. At the beginning of Book XII, for example, the the funerary actions for Elpenor’s body are described “after we had wept over him and lamented him.” The expression of the emotion itself is elided, a mere footnote to the actions which prompted that expression. In Contempt, the significant moment for me occurs when Paul allows Camille to ride away with Prokosch. The dissolution of their relationship is bound up in a clash of masculinities. Prokosch is the embodiment of machismo, a sexual marauder. Paul fails to recognize the threat to his own masculinity and, perhaps because of his financial subordination to Prokosch, undermines Camille’s perception of his manhood. As Prokosch’s car roars away Paul calls out for his wife, but the camera never takes us in to see his despair. The camera distance from the subject has a direct correlation to the emotional distance between the subject and the audience - the camera is our surrogate. Godard’s limited use of close-ups forces the audience, to concentrate on the action itself rather than the emotional response to that action.
What is interesting is that Telemachus must rely on his father to "help" slay the suitors, in that he can't do anything about them without Odysseus. Only through his assistance is Telemachus fully awarded the seal of bravery (masculinity). I felt that Paul (in Contempt) was more along the lines of Telemachus, in that he seemed somewhat powerless against Jeremy's uber-masculinity. Paul seems to "give in" much too easily, perhaps naively, allowing Camille to spend as much time with Jeremy as he demands. This, to me, showcases Paul's weakness.
I agree with Allan in that Telemachus had his own "coming-of-age" story within this Greek epic. So, in reading the Odyssey we not only see examples of what it means to be a man through Odysseus' journey, but also what it takes to become on through Telemachus.
What I find interesting is that part of his becoming a man involves him rebuking his own mother when she is upset about the suitor's song. In order to become a man, Telemachus must first take steps in becoming the man of his own house in his father's absence. He has to take control of a woman, become her leader, even though this woman is his parent.
He then must take control of the other men in his life. His decision to call an assembly and stand up to the suitors in his palace was the first step in his journey to manhood.
Perhaps one of the major reasons why many people felt distanced with the characters and story of Le Mepris is because of the constant contradictions between the dialogue and the actions of the characters. Several posts have talked about emotion in the film. The characters constantly discuss their feelings and emotions, yet their actions work against their words. This type of contradiction is particularly evident in the prolonged discussion between Camille and Paul in their apartment. Both characters constantly shift in their position; claiming they are angry, then hurt, then happy, then in love, then miserable, etc. Although they argue feeling each emotion, the lack of coherence or motivation behind each emotion makes the characters seem insincere. In the end, the only believable emotion present is contempt itself. Even in what should be an erotic and loving bed scene between Camille and Paul in the beginning, The very idea of sexuality is broken down in a way that makes the characters and dialogue seem flat.
The idea of feminine sexuality and masculine dominance is also present in a contradictory manner in the film. Camille's nude scenes are constantly being de-eroticized by distracting changes of light, sound, and mood. She de-sexualizes her character further by frequently "changing her identity" with a wig. Paul's masculinity is also called into question almost constantly throughout the film. Although Camille's dialogue claims that Paul is in control (i.e. lines like "I will do whatever my husband decides") it is obvious that Paul essentially has no control over Camille. Paul seems to be a slave to Camille's demands despite her desire for him to assert himself. Ultimately, it is not Jeremy's masculine dominance that takes control of Camille, but Paul's lack of masculinity that causes him to lose her. Although both Paul claims his masculine dominance and Camille claims her feminine sexuality, the contradiction of both their actions and the camerawork suggest otherwise.
In The Odyssey by Homer, Odysseus is held captive by the Siren, which was one of the obstacles that prevented him from going home. It is stated in the text itself that neither man nor God could overcome the seductiveness of her voice. With that said, femininity seems to be that which controls and manipulates masculinity rather than the opposite. Contrarily, Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt, Jeremy Prokosch brings up an alternate reason for why Odysseus left home and stayed away from home for so long. The reason presented by Prokosch was simply that Odysseus got tired of being around his wife Penelope. Meanwhile, Fritz Lang tried to recreate Odysseus’ quests in The Odyssey by filming on a high peak over a vast sea. Such scenery does little for us in terms of Contempt due to the gender dynamics being portrayed between husband and wife as well as the camera's focus on them. Ostensibly, a similar connotation occurs between the main character Paul and his wife, Camille in Contempt. He willingly let Camille go into the arms of another man when any other man would have “forbid” her to do so. For this, she saw this as a sign that he no longer loved her, which made her feel the same way about him. Consequently, she viewed him as less of a man−thus beginning the challenge of masculinity in the story. She blamed Paul for her falling out of love with him and in love with Prokosch. In reality, he was using his wife as a peace offering/pawn to get on the good side of the American director; a price that he would pay for until the end of the movie. We, along with Paul, get taken on an emotional roller coaster ride–albeit not thrilling–courtesy of Camille; “She loves me, she loves me not.” The lamp on the table in front of Paul and Camille flickers similar to how the Lisbon sisters in The Virgin Suicides flashed their lights on and off at night. As Paul and Camille argued, she was able to channel her feminine woes through the flickering lamp as a damsel in distress; the Lisbon sisters did the same thing by signaling the boys to rescue them. So in both of these texts, I think it is safe to say that masculinity is a way of not knowing whereas femininity holds the answer. Odysseus did not know how to return to Penelope and Paul was unaware that trying to befriend Jeremy Prokosch would end things with Camille.
The film works very effectively to keep the audience at a distance. I think Paul and Camille are the main tools through which this is accomplished. Both Paul and Camille often say what the expect out of each other and how they themselves are certain things. However, we never see any of these desires or developments come to fruition. Each character is being let down by the other and by themselves almost constantly throughout the film, leaving the audience without sympathy for either one of them. There are moments, like right before Camille puts the wig on, where things seem to be coming together for the two of them and where we feel like we may have some sort of character development in a positive way. However, as soon as we feel comfortable, Godard shatters our hopes for normality. That is something I love about the film because it is closer to how real life works. We always expect people to behave and react in certain ways, but it is rare that they actually do. Because this happens so many times throughout the film, by the end of it, we have no sympathy for either character, and, as Sarah said, we are left with only contempt. So much so for me, that when Camille dies so horribly at the end, I almost found it relieving because I didn't have to watch their misery anymore.
The Odyssey achieves the same thing, but I think through different means. I felt distanced from that story because of the constantly changing tenses and locations. There is never an indication of where/when you are about to go and there was never an explanation of it afterward. Because of this, you cannot really delve in to what is happening in any particular situation. I tried to a couple of times and was ripped out of it pretty much as soon as the next passage began. I felt disconnected to every character except for the mother because she is the only one who has a legitimate cause for sympathy. Even though Odysseus goes through some trying times, he was kind of an ass throughout the narrative so I didn't terribly mind what happened to him. All in all, both narratives were quite effective in showing the negative aspects of humanity, while maintaining a safe distance from them.
Narrative wise, there's only action and dialogue in The Odyssey, which gives the story a lack of intimacy with the characters. In a way, this brings a masculine overtone to the story, which is very fitting due to the subject matter.
I definitely understand where cwerty is coming from. I "grew up," with these stories in the sense that I knew of them from cartoons and movies and things, but I'd never actually read the story itself, from Homer's words. I always thought it was just a simple story of how Odysseus returns home from the Trojan War, and his many adeventures in coming home. But its so much more. There's so much going on with all these characters, its just too much for me to grip. I'm so used to having my one central narrative with a few characters, plus whatever side stories may be encountered along the way, instead of the mass amount of people who show up in Odyssey. It was very easy for me to feel nothing for these characters, as there are so many of them. I grew more and more detached from the story as more things were thrown in.
One of the most difficult things about reading The Odyssey for me is that so many sub-stories and sub-characters are referenced throughout the book. Seeing as I did not grow up around the time it was written or with a vast knowledge of the gods, I found it difficult to keep up with all the background stories. It kind of reminded me of watching an episode of Gilmore Girls and having a ton of obscure pop culture references thrown in your face. I did not feel very emotionally attached to the characters, probably in part due to the pure excess of them. So many things happened in such a short period of time, but they were glossed over. For example, a countless number of men died within sentences, but there was no time to focus on those losses. The apathetic attitude distanced me from feeling much emotion while reading.
ReplyDeleteOne interesting aspect of Contempt's narration has to do with the pacing of the film. Given the slow pacing of the film, the relatively mundane plot, and the unnerving attention to detail, as seen in the exceedingly long apartment fight scene, this film ceases to be a story, at least in the American concept of the idea. Instead of forming what the audience expects of the notion of the idea of story, the film forms an exhibition of some kind. In the case of this film, this exhibition could be said to be an insight on love in the age of the all powerful, egotistical sense of identity. Regardless of what "messages" are present in the film or not, the devices mentioned above convey the true impact of the film, an impact that comes from thought instead of viewing. This might be why most Americans find foreign films boring, as they are expecting the story of the film to be unfolded in front of their eyes and given to them.
ReplyDeleteEver since I first encountered The Odyssey when I was younger, I've always had a fascination with Greek Mythology, so to read the story again was great. After watching Contempt and reading Homers poem, I could see parallels between the two. Like in many Greek Tragedies, the protagonist of the story usually suffers from one fatal flaw. In this case it was Odysseus' arrogance, this was the cause of much of his pain and suffering. In the film, Jeremy Prokosch, the producer has an ego, arrogance, anger, and sense of entitlement that makes Charlie Sheen seem timid. It might have been due to this fact in the end of the film he suffers an ill fate. In both, film and poem, there involves a woman torn between her husband and another suitor, although the two differ in "her" choice.
ReplyDeleteWhen it comes to the structure of the narration in these two pieces there are no similarities to be found. The Odyssey begins with the poet asking from the Muse to give him inspiration and encourages to "start where she wills". From there on, the rest of the epic's narration continues in a non-linear fashion, operating on flashbacks, in contrast to Le Mepris, which is told through linear narration. One thing they have in common however, is that they're both reflexive in recognizing the presence of "a poet" as a narrator. In the case of Le Mepris, the author is Godard himself, who by including a movie within his movie, hints to the film as a medium of communication and underlines his presence as the director of this medium.
ReplyDeleteGodard with Le Mepris created an Odyssey within an Odyssey, as the leading characters of the film correspond with these of the Odyssey, with Paul being Odysseus, Camille being Penelope, and Prokosch being Odysseus enemy, Poseidon.
Within the film, Fritz Lang is directing a modern version of the Odyssey that doesn't evolve around a hero's journey home to his faithful and patient wife. Instead Lang sees the modern Odyssey to be a story about a wife's contempt towards her husband's decision not to return. That version is also Godard's view the modern Odyssey as it is told through the story of a married couple.
Godard's modern version lacks a great factor that Homer's Odyssey was actually based on, that being the presence and influence of the Gods on the characters. But, in Godard's film there is no fair justice to and no divine assistance. Like the God's of ancient Greece, the gods of Godard's film are merely the resemblance of the mortals. Le Mepris shares more in structure with ancient tragedies. A larger-then-life problematic situation, that of fading emotion within a marriage, a problem so common, but yet so complex. In Godard's Odyssey the tragic hero is Camille, who finds catharsis upon her death.
Both Homer and Godard take the viewer/reader on a voyage, but Homer uses words, while Godard uses images.
It seems that in order to examine the narrative techniques of Le Mepris, we need to focus on the use of visual language (i.e. the mis-en-scene).
More to come
The first post concluded with a comment about distance and emotion which enabled me to draw some connections between the epic poem and the film with regard to the notion of masculinity. The Greek concept of masculinity (and to some degree too, the modern version) eschews the expression of emotion. The Odyssey does not dwell on how the men feel but, rather, what the men do. At the beginning of Book XII, for example, the the funerary actions for Elpenor’s body are described “after we had wept over him and lamented him.” The expression of the emotion itself is elided, a mere footnote to the actions which prompted that expression.
ReplyDeleteIn Contempt, the significant moment for me occurs when Paul allows Camille to ride away with Prokosch. The dissolution of their relationship is bound up in a clash of masculinities. Prokosch is the embodiment of machismo, a sexual marauder. Paul fails to recognize the threat to his own masculinity and, perhaps because of his financial subordination to Prokosch, undermines Camille’s perception of his manhood. As Prokosch’s car roars away Paul calls out for his wife, but the camera never takes us in to see his despair. The camera distance from the subject has a direct correlation to the emotional distance between the subject and the audience - the camera is our surrogate. Godard’s limited use of close-ups forces the audience, to concentrate on the action itself rather than the emotional response to that action.
What is interesting is that Telemachus must rely on his father to "help" slay the suitors, in that he can't do anything about them without Odysseus. Only through his assistance is Telemachus fully awarded the seal of bravery (masculinity). I felt that Paul (in Contempt) was more along the lines of Telemachus, in that he seemed somewhat powerless against Jeremy's uber-masculinity. Paul seems to "give in" much too easily, perhaps naively, allowing Camille to spend as much time with Jeremy as he demands. This, to me, showcases Paul's weakness.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Allan in that Telemachus had his own "coming-of-age" story within this Greek epic. So, in reading the Odyssey we not only see examples of what it means to be a man through Odysseus' journey, but also what it takes to become on through Telemachus.
ReplyDeleteWhat I find interesting is that part of his becoming a man involves him rebuking his own mother when she is upset about the suitor's song. In order to become a man, Telemachus must first take steps in becoming the man of his own house in his father's absence. He has to take control of a woman, become her leader, even though this woman is his parent.
He then must take control of the other men in his life. His decision to call an assembly and stand up to the suitors in his palace was the first step in his journey to manhood.
Perhaps one of the major reasons why many people felt distanced with the characters and story of Le Mepris is because of the constant contradictions between the dialogue and the actions of the characters. Several posts have talked about emotion in the film. The characters constantly discuss their feelings and emotions, yet their actions work against their words. This type of contradiction is particularly evident in the prolonged discussion between Camille and Paul in their apartment. Both characters constantly shift in their position; claiming they are angry, then hurt, then happy, then in love, then miserable, etc. Although they argue feeling each emotion, the lack of coherence or motivation behind each emotion makes the characters seem insincere. In the end, the only believable emotion present is contempt itself. Even in what should be an erotic and loving bed scene between Camille and Paul in the beginning, The very idea of sexuality is broken down in a way that makes the characters and dialogue seem flat.
ReplyDeleteThe idea of feminine sexuality and masculine dominance is also present in a contradictory manner in the film. Camille's nude scenes are constantly being de-eroticized by distracting changes of light, sound, and mood. She de-sexualizes her character further by frequently "changing her identity" with a wig. Paul's masculinity is also called into question almost constantly throughout the film. Although Camille's dialogue claims that Paul is in control (i.e. lines like "I will do whatever my husband decides") it is obvious that Paul essentially has no control over Camille. Paul seems to be a slave to Camille's demands despite her desire for him to assert himself. Ultimately, it is not Jeremy's masculine dominance that takes control of Camille, but Paul's lack of masculinity that causes him to lose her. Although both Paul claims his masculine dominance and Camille claims her feminine sexuality, the contradiction of both their actions and the camerawork suggest otherwise.
In The Odyssey by Homer, Odysseus is held captive by the Siren, which was one of the obstacles that prevented him from going home. It is stated in the text itself that neither man nor God could overcome the seductiveness of her voice. With that said, femininity seems to be that which controls and manipulates masculinity rather than the opposite. Contrarily, Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt, Jeremy Prokosch brings up an alternate reason for why Odysseus left home and stayed away from home for so long. The reason presented by Prokosch was simply that Odysseus got tired of being around his wife Penelope. Meanwhile, Fritz Lang tried to recreate Odysseus’ quests in The Odyssey by filming on a high peak over a vast sea. Such scenery does little for us in terms of Contempt due to the gender dynamics being portrayed between husband and wife as well as the camera's focus on them.
ReplyDeleteOstensibly, a similar connotation occurs between the main character Paul and his wife, Camille in Contempt. He willingly let Camille go into the arms of another man when any other man would have “forbid” her to do so. For this, she saw this as a sign that he no longer loved her, which made her feel the same way about him. Consequently, she viewed him as less of a man−thus beginning the challenge of masculinity in the story. She blamed Paul for her falling out of love with him and in love with Prokosch. In reality, he was using his wife as a peace offering/pawn to get on the good side of the American director; a price that he would pay for until the end of the movie. We, along with Paul, get taken on an emotional roller coaster ride–albeit not thrilling–courtesy of Camille; “She loves me, she loves me not.” The lamp on the table in front of Paul and Camille flickers similar to how the Lisbon sisters in The Virgin Suicides flashed their lights on and off at night. As Paul and Camille argued, she was able to channel her feminine woes through the flickering lamp as a damsel in distress; the Lisbon sisters did the same thing by signaling the boys to rescue them. So in both of these texts, I think it is safe to say that masculinity is a way of not knowing whereas femininity holds the answer. Odysseus did not know how to return to Penelope and Paul was unaware that trying to befriend Jeremy Prokosch would end things with Camille.
The film works very effectively to keep the audience at a distance. I think Paul and Camille are the main tools through which this is accomplished. Both Paul and Camille often say what the expect out of each other and how they themselves are certain things. However, we never see any of these desires or developments come to fruition. Each character is being let down by the other and by themselves almost constantly throughout the film, leaving the audience without sympathy for either one of them. There are moments, like right before Camille puts the wig on, where things seem to be coming together for the two of them and where we feel like we may have some sort of character development in a positive way. However, as soon as we feel comfortable, Godard shatters our hopes for normality. That is something I love about the film because it is closer to how real life works. We always expect people to behave and react in certain ways, but it is rare that they actually do. Because this happens so many times throughout the film, by the end of it, we have no sympathy for either character, and, as Sarah said, we are left with only contempt. So much so for me, that when Camille dies so horribly at the end, I almost found it relieving because I didn't have to watch their misery anymore.
ReplyDeleteThe Odyssey achieves the same thing, but I think through different means. I felt distanced from that story because of the constantly changing tenses and locations. There is never an indication of where/when you are about to go and there was never an explanation of it afterward. Because of this, you cannot really delve in to what is happening in any particular situation. I tried to a couple of times and was ripped out of it pretty much as soon as the next passage began. I felt disconnected to every character except for the mother because she is the only one who has a legitimate cause for sympathy. Even though Odysseus goes through some trying times, he was kind of an ass throughout the narrative so I didn't terribly mind what happened to him.
All in all, both narratives were quite effective in showing the negative aspects of humanity, while maintaining a safe distance from them.
Narrative wise, there's only action and dialogue in The Odyssey, which gives the story a lack of intimacy with the characters. In a way, this brings a masculine overtone to the story, which is very fitting due to the subject matter.
ReplyDeleteI definitely understand where cwerty is coming from. I "grew up," with these stories in the sense that I knew of them from cartoons and movies and things, but I'd never actually read the story itself, from Homer's words. I always thought it was just a simple story of how Odysseus returns home from the Trojan War, and his many adeventures in coming home. But its so much more.
ReplyDeleteThere's so much going on with all these characters, its just too much for me to grip. I'm so used to having my one central narrative with a few characters, plus whatever side stories may be encountered along the way, instead of the mass amount of people who show up in Odyssey.
It was very easy for me to feel nothing for these characters, as there are so many of them. I grew more and more detached from the story as more things were thrown in.