Possessed By Possessions

Thoughts On The Tangible.

Spending hours searching, taking apart, shuffling through belongings, retracing steps,  attempting to locate a lost possession. An infuriating  hunt. The item could be house keys, a notebook, bank statements, earphones. It could be a tool, an accessory or necessity. It could be something bought fourteen hours ago or owned for fourteen years. Worse when it's a gift or loaned from a friend – then no pillowcase, pockets, boxes or mat left  unchecked. I once lost an important usb and continued to check the cupboard I swore I left it in, months after it’s disappearance. Quietly, I’m still frustrated at its loss, I don’t even remember its contents.

The same memory that failed to recall the last known whereabouts becomes something of a foggy map aided by the chance of stumbling upon whatever has been lost.

To misplace a possession is to displace part of yourself. It’s apparent that you’ll be defined by your material belongings, they speak on your behalf. Everything you own says something about the person you are, though sometimes they lie and give false impressions. What you have is what you’ll leave behind in death; who can really say where the spirit goes, but inherited belongings will keep you alive, in memory, in some small way. Not everything owned is meant to be cherished. Majority of what you have or had is designed to serve a purpose then be discarded, like a face mask. Possessions can escape redundancy when they hold weight within your life, either sentimental or practical. An item's reusability will grant it longevity, same can be said for the circumstance in which it fell into your care and the experience attached to it. There’s really no reason to hold onto a concert ticket outside of nostalgia. In a sense, the memory triggered by possessions turns them into an unreadable journal. A record of past experiences, be it yours or someone else’s.

There’s an entire market for memorabilia. Buyers looking for keepsakes that signify the importance of whatever circumstance made them culturally valuable. In a video, Lenny Kravitz describes the magic of a pair of red James Brown boots and how he believes if worn  anyone could dance like him. The magnetism of James Brown cannot literally be captured in boots like a genie in a bottle, but if given the chance to wear them, don’t tell me you wouldn’t attempt to bust a move. Even if you had two left feet, merely walking around in them would make you feel a little like the man himself. The same can be said for donning the belongings of anyone. It doesn’t have to be the exact same one, you can recreate the style of an individual you admire or close to by buying the same model or replica. It’s impossible to become someone else. But it is possible to feel like them. You can trick yourself into believing your Cristiano Ronaldo by carrying a seven on your back. You can trick others into believing you are who you pretend to be if you’re an actor in a biopic.

Possessions are your essences turned material. Those who know me best will identify me by the aesthetic of the property I keep. They can see something I’ve never owned and be reminded of me.  They can get it for me present, knowing it will fit  into the ecosystem of my taste and interests. Though aesthetic taste can change like the seasons. You will physically and mentally grow out of things – like growing apart from people – they’ll no longer be quintessential to you. There’s always the possibility of rediscovery, surrounding yourself with objects from a period of one's life can bring you closer to the person you once were. A large part of style trends coming in and out of fashion is people collectively rediscovering cultural signifiers and artifacts from a particular era and attempting to replicate them, chasing after the spirit of those times. Amongst the  great deal of personal effects I’ve discarded over the years a few of them have come back to haunt me. If I only saw in them what I see now, I could’ve avoided this lingering regret.

Letter to Myself

The guiding principles for Moscow Art Theatre, developed by Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko and Konstantin Stanislavski:

• One must love art, and not one's self in art.

• Today Hamlet, tomorrow a supernumerary, but even as a supernumerary you must become an artist.

• The poet, the actor, the artist, the tailor, the stagehand serve one goal which is placed by the poet in the very basis of his play.

• All disobedience to the creative life of the theatre is a crime.

• Lateness, laziness, caprice, hysterics, bad character, ignorance of the role, the necessity of repeating anything twice are all equally harmful to our enterprise and must be rooted out.

• There are no small parts, there are only small actors.

For the whole of my life there has been this urge to fall into some form of creative practice. I have had the privilege to touch upon a number of disciplines before entering the craft of film. And for five years my creative voice has lingered behind and in front of a camera with no desire to tangent off elsewhere.

There are a lot of us in competition with one another especially when seeking funds. A healthy rivalry is something we can embrace in motivating our own creative growth, but a lot of people fall into the comparison game, especially when rejections come in abundance.

The industry we are in is far too competitive and result oriented. How your film does at the box office and whether a film will get accepted to festivals should not be what dictates the creative decisions we make. As artists, we need the opportunity to explore in all stages of crafting a film, from its conception to its exhibition.

To explore requires us to strip away our egos and accept all rejections as an encouragement to further refine ideas. This should not mean that you pander to the trends of what audiences fall into. It’s an opportunity to reframe our minds and, “love art and not one’s self in art.” Your passion for ideas are what will motivate you and others to invest into projects, and the same can be said vice versa.

One person cannot make a film on their own. A film is a synthesis of multiple perspectives from varying creative and logistical disciplines. No matter the role, every voice is necessary in serving a vision. Every individual attached to a project is an artist in their own right.

Thus, disobedience and disrespect between others should not be tolerated. With a number of voices involved, a natural rift in opinions may occur. The morale surrounding your project will depend on your actions following it. Creating a safe environment for all will only benefit the creative result of hard work shared. This requires one to be gentle, honest, kind and respectful to others as well as yourself.

The collaborative I embrace is one that focuses on forging bonds with fellow creatives within and beyond the film industry. All with the intent of nurturing voices, encouraging experimentation and celebrating our growth.

I have stayed in film for its creative and emotional challenges. The passion required to tell stories; the courage to confront rejections; the discipline to explore your craft; and the need to be kind and respectful. From a professional and personal standpoint, film has and continues to teach me how to be a good person.

First Cinema-Like Experience

Moving pictures have been and are still an integral part of each and every one of our lives. In appreciation towards the craft and existence of cinema, this series will start from the very beginnings of moving images; a time before the term ‘cinema’ was even mentioned.

You can follow us on Instagram and Facebook to keep up to date on upcoming episodes.

This episode is researched, written and produced by Musashi Wakaki.

‘Fyma: Exploring Cinema History’ is in association with Three Quarter Films and is a passion project made for filmmakers and filmgoers.
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SCRIPT

Everyone’s seen a movie. Whether it be a blockbuster, animation or an independently produced film, each and every one of us have been entertained through the medium of moving pictures and for most of us — films have always been a part of our lives.

There was a time when the word ‘cinema’ didn’t even exist. Stories had to be shared through literature, visual arts and theatre. Cinema is ultimately an amalgamation of all three mentioned art forms and I’d like to begin this series from the very first cinema-like experience. A form of entertainment known as shadow puppetry.

China. Over 2000 years ago. Han Wudi, the seventh emperor of the Han dynasty was saddened and emotionally torn after the death of his late concubine, Lady Li. She didn’t allow for the emperor to see her in an ill state and passed away sometime between 104 to 101 BC. Regardless of his emotional state, Han Wudi had an empire to run.

Enter, one of his loyal advisors who watched from the sideline, concerned for the emperor’s well-being. One sunny day the mentioned advisor passed by a courtyard and happened to spot a few kids playing about with parasols. He noticed that the parasol and the kids casted a shadow on the floor. And the way the shadow replicated the kid’s movements felt life-like, a perfect imitation of sorts. And this is when the advisor came up with an idea.

That night, Han Wudi was invited to the same courtyard for a special performance. The set up was somewhat simple; the advisor draped a white sheet as a screen and casted a silhouette of Lady Li, constructed using small leather cutouts. Wooden sticks were laced with the head and arms to create a movable puppet. Holding the sticks, the advisor moved the backlit puppet in a way that closely resembled the mannerisms of the Emperor’s late concubine.

Through the eyes of the emperor, that silhouette moved as elegantly as the way his lover did. Emperor Han Wudi was revitalised and continued to run what is said to be one of the most prosperous periods in Chinese history.

Over time, this form of storytelling was shared with people outside the palace. This was when Shadow puppetry became a nationwide form of entertainment.

Truth be told, this legend on the origins of shadow puppetry is more fiction than fact. In fact shadow puppetry also existed in India and throughout South-East Asia sometime from the 1st millennium BCE. But regardless of its origins, the tale is so deeply rooted in love that you cannot ignore the passion of the craft that has been told through generations by royal performers, farmers and labourers.

I want you to picture this in your head. The sun sets, the townspeople of a small village finish their day to day responsibilities. The night sky, now filled with stars. People ranging from kids to adults gather in front of a screen made from a white sheer. The anticipation for the show to start is much like the waiting for the lights to dim at a cinema.

The show begins, all eyes are glued to the same screen, laughing, crying and experiencing a sense of euphoria. The visuals that are crafted on screen are simpler in form but it’s not different to what being in a cinema is like. Stories were generally focused on telling fairy tales, well-known epics surrounding the history of China and legends that were passed down through generations.

Unfortunately this age-old tradition has been for quite some time depleting in popularity. The people who do watch shadow plays are generally within an educational or tourism context. Nowadays, it isn’t something residents of China would spontaneously go to to be entertained. Nowadays people go to cinemas. But even then, cinema attendance has depleted over time but I suppose that's for another episode.

The sense of escapism cinemas now capture are far more visceral and engaging for a contemporary audience. But this doesn’t mean we should forget where it originated from.

In fact the development of shadow puppetry seems to have an uncanny parallel with the evolution of cinema. The sole dependence of telling a story through shadows meant the first images were in a way, black and white.

Eventually, puppet masters found a way to add colour to their shadows using animal hides and dying them in vibrant colours. Think of it like Film Tinting, where film was hand coloured using dyes.

Then came sound and music. The puppet masters would not only move the puppets themselves but they would also sing the tale that they wrote. Some performers were also perceived as a one man band with percussion based instruments rigged to the puppeteers feet to create rhythm.

Though cinemas and shadow plays are similar in it’s theatrical form and it’s technical progression, this doesn’t prove that shadow plays were of any influence to the existence of cinema. But I’d like to see if there truly is a link of inspiration.

You could say that the use of silhouettes in films were heavily inspired by shadow plays, the opium scenes in Once Upon a Time in America is set within a Shadow Play theatre. Or that the 2011 animated film, Kung-fu Panda 2 uses shadow puppetry in its opening and credits sequence but I'd like to go deeper than that.

We need to take a step back in time. To the years of when the silk road was connected with China. And for those who don’t know of the silk road, think of it as the ancient history version of the world wide web. The silk road is essentially a number of paths that go through and between cities and towns to ultimately create a trade network. Artefacts, ideologies, religions and art were carried through these roads to share with others outside of China.

Shadow play spread across the network to South-East Asia and to Turkey during the Ottoman Empire. And over time, the silk road expanded all the way to Europe where Italian fairground performers adopted what they coined as shadow theatre.

Puppets have always been a huge part of Italian fairs but they’ve never seen entertainment made with very little material with 2D images only shown through shadows. That concept was so surreal that Italian performers took joy in displaying this new form. Ultimately they’ve never experienced entertainment embodied through a screen-like format. Their closest form of cinema was probably theatrical plays or puppets in miniaturised stages. And to be honest with you, I wouldn’t call that cinema.

But who cares what I think.

Their passion for shadow theatre spread to performing all throughout Europe but the stories they told were focused around classical Italian tales and it was nothing new for the patrons of their shows. And though shadow theatre was unique in its craft at the time, it didn’t catch on until sometime within the 1760s, when China was met with French missionaries.

To give some context at the time, France had an interest towards the artistic traditions that came from China. There was a term for it — Chinoiserie, a decorative flourish to Western art, furniture and architecture that was heavily influenced by Chinese motifs and techniques. And because of the existence of Chinoiserie, shadow plays were welcomed by the masses.

So the French missionaries were naturally intrigued by Chinese shadow plays that they brought its medium back to French entertainers. Many were fascinated and it soon was called ‘ombres chinoises’ which in English translates to Chinese shadows. Out of the many was one particular man who you could say was a huge influence for its growth.

A French entertainer by the name of Francois Dominique Seraphin interpreted his own take of Chinese shadow plays and performed at the back of an inn situated somewhere in Versailles.

Just like how we tell our friends about an unforgettable film we’ve watched, word spread of the performance and it was only a matter of time until a gradual number of people came to experience the joys surrounding ‘ombres chinoises’.

And with demand comes the need to grow as a business. Francois started to frequently perform in carnivals - an outdoor screening of sorts. News even reached the aristocrats of that time. And soon enough, his success eventually led him to performing in the Palace of Versailles in front of royalty.

Fair few years later in 1784, he moved to Paris and started to regularly perform his show at the Palais Royal. And by this point, the visual style had shifted to French sensibilities with an aesthetic that no longer resonates with China.

Le Pont Cassé (The Broken Bridge), Le Bois Dangereux ou les Deux Voleurs (The Dangerous Wood, or the Two Thieves), Cendrillon (Cinderella) and La Chasse aux Canards (The Duck Hunt). These were a few of many shows Francois had performed. There was really no sign of his shows stopping.

Until 1800, Francois Dominique Seraphin passed. His shows will continue for another 70 years thanks to his nephew but it was of very little importance when compared with the shows that were directed by Francois himself.

You could say that the dying art form was due to nepotism and the nephews inability to keep the art form fresh and new but my suspicion is that regardless of Francois’ death, shadow puppetry was inevitably gonna dwindle in popularity.

Years before his death Francois had managed to earn enough to invest more into his own shows. And the next step to revamp it was through clockwork mechanisms that would automate the character’s movements.

At first I imagined the mechanical doll in the film Hugo though it wouldn’t have been as complicated in design. Or at least I wouldn’t think so. It hurts me to say it but I couldn’t find anything on the design of the mechanical puppets. But I digress.

My suspicion is that the mechanised versions of the shows Francois had performed removed the ‘human’ aspect of the performance. Think of it like really bad visual effects in films now. When you notice how fake the digitally produced characters look, you can’t help but feel detached from the characters. I imagine that the mechanics of the time weren’t advanced enough for the audience to suspend their disbelief. The organic flow of his performance was just no more.

In the end, Shadow puppetry was at an all time low. Francois dominated the French Shadow Puppetry industry that no one wanted to take over. The role of being the next great shadow performer was too overwhelming for many entertainers, thus, leading to the death of the art form. Or so they thought.

1885, in the nightclub district of Montmartre is a cabaret called Le Chat Noir. And the man who ran the shows, Louis Rudolphe Salis was the man to fund and reinvigorate a dying medium. Rather than returning to the mechanical versions of shadow puppetry, he went back to its original style with people puppeteering one or two characters.

Le Chat Noir’s theatre space was in a way like a 19th century megaplex, a large cinema-like experience with the comfort of being entertained whilst consuming snacks and beverages. It was lively and full of people. The overwhelming sensation of the cabaret is what most Baz Lehrmann films try to capture.

But why did shadow plays return?

The impresario, Louis Rudolphe Salis, the man who runs Le Chat Noir was an innovator. He came up with the idea of merging an already established device called a Magic Lantern with shadow puppetry.

And for those who do know what that is, a magic lantern is ultimately a projector of sorts. Louis used it to project detailed backgrounds onto the screen. And layering on top of the background are the shadow puppets themselves.

The illustrated backgrounds were what made the performances stand out. Beforehand, backgrounds were also created using shadows so the setting of any scene was like an embellished frame. Thanks to Henri Rivière, a French artist and designer, the backgrounds looked far more captivating than it ever was. The story world became an integral part of French shadow puppetry.

And this particular style was adopted amongst other cabarets throughout France, and eventually, became an abundant form of entertainment by the end of the 19th century. People from all classes would share the same dim-lit room just to experience a world and story outside of reality.

And once moving images came into fruition, shadow puppetry had already established the foundation of what we call a cinema experience: a moving character, a vivid world and a dramatised story.

Thank you so much for listening to the very first episode of Fyma: Exploring Cinema History. It’s a pleasure to produce this episode and I intend to continue with the series whenever possible.

This podcast is in association with Three Quarter Films and is a passion project made for filmmakers, filmgoers and just general film lovers.

You can follow Three Quarter Films on Instagram and Facebook to keep up to date on future episodes as well as any film production that is in the works.

See you next time.