A manifesto which represents an eclipse of today’s cinema and its dichotomy, for a new moon of cinephilia and its culture has arrived. 

The lockdown may have prohibited our movements and physical contact, but the movement of the mind and seeds of ideas planted earlier in the semester had begun to bloom, albeit not in the way I would have expected.

In collaborating on Assignment 4, there were definitely some barriers in communication and contribution. It provided me with new insights into the nature of collaborative work, especially in the space we currently occupy, wherein human interaction is substituted for a ‘virtual dimension’ of Zoom calls, one of the most problematic aspects of this collaborative process we had embarked on.

Three individuals, with three quite disparate methodologies and takes on the canon, conversing and probing as to what would be our cohesive truth we wished to convey. In retrospect, no such singular truth exists. Initially, our varying styles excited me, and our brainstorming propelled me to expand my own interpretation of the canon, to consider what others deemed to be omitted from the great canonical list. From Kaushal’s passion for horror and the Marvel universe, Josie’s late night ventures in satirical video essays and deep-faking, and to my own audio-visual experiments  – what was at first a flurry of ideas, never really eventuated to a cohesive whole of how we were to speak truth to the canon, together. I had considered working independently as our ideas and efforts varied in preparation for our pitch – and after the feedback we received from panelists, Robin Plunkett and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, this seemed apparent. A fruitful learning experience nethertheless, after a stressful day of multiple deadlines.

“Taste classifies the classifier”, said Alexandra, and a knock on my door signalling my order of wine had arrived, all I could think about was the taste of a pinot…

I found myself re engaging with the studio once more after having had moments of feeling creatively stifled. When flames of passion collide, the embers which remain are not of a single truth. Collaboration evokes a montage of ideas, flickering through not one mind, but many. At times, such ventures are enriching and fruitful, but if I am to speak truth to the canon, then I must speak my truth in saying that it felt right to continue this deep exploration of the canon I’ve embarked on in solitude. 

I recalibrated my approach, this time being able to fully commit to my ideas and express myself creatively- without diluting that expression, reinvigorating my descent into the canon once more, and I intended to venture deep.

Many truths I wished to unveil, and at times the truths I wished to expose, and explore, did not blend as organically as I would have hoped in our group manifesto production- and that’s okay. A reformation of the canon is underway, after all. 

Of the world, and of its ways. 

I gravitate towards a cinema of perspective, and approached this manifesto with ‘a spirit of appropriation,’ of which would entail an audio-visual collage of films encountered, lessons learnt and truths exposed. As per the recent months spent probing the canon, this seemed most 

Embarking on my manifesto production, the Sight & Sound poll taped on the wall beside me, serving as a frame of reference – layers of annotations scribbled, alluding me to the films of which were edited by women, leading me to discover that many of the cherished, most worshiped auteurs- the likes of Renoir, Dreyer, Godard and Tarkovsky, of Lynch and of Scorcese – I don’t want to say I was surprised, as these “revelations” which were unbeknownst to me had been circulating in cinephilic discourse for some time.  

This isn’t “new information,” merely a framing of the canon’s narrative, constructed to serve its imperial masters – swept under the monolithic rug of Hollywood and the Western deities of Cinema. 

Lists colonise the mind and impoverish the imagination.

Lists bludgeon the dispossessed with a metric of popularity, as if it is a universal value.

Lists won’t create new canons – especially not of lost women, queer, trans, Black, Latinx, global south, decolonial and anti-colonial filmmakers.

 

What is the cinephile’s agenda?

I revisit the list of voters for the S&S polll.
Male, male, male, female, male, male, male, male, female, female, male, male, male, male…

The language of imperialism, and the institutions of power, have always come out on top.
The schrapnel of Western terrorism which have made its way into the world of Cinema, burning identities and archives with it,

While I continued my descent into another long, winding tunnel of canon fodder, I simultaneously embarked on a research project of Greek-Australian filmmaker, Ana Kokkinos, and her film Head On, edited by Jil Bilcock, of which I enjoyed a double screening with Dancing the Invisible. 

I thought of the complexities of experience, of identity, of place and of the lived experiences Kokkinos spoke of, which were not being explored on screen.

Of the voices of the “marginalised”, or places and communities which are “remote”; stories away from the constructed hierarchical power of the white, Western canon, of which lives in fear of facing its reality of omitted truths.

“If there have been excesses on the side of the politique des auteurs and the worship of the mise en scène, perhaps this has something to do with the personality of people who had no contact with reality.”

 

A conversation with a friend in journal writing practises, to write your thoughts the moment you awaken, ‘when the veil of the ego is set to be the thinnest’. 

I’ve kept a dream journal for many years, jotting down images and memories as I recount them in my dazed, not yet conscious, state. At times these entries could be films in their own right, at others, they are dot points of an ungrounded memory – when the subject matter is still lingering, albeit the memory to recount its occurrences have already escaped me, as I try (not always) to make sense of the audio-visual material of which was compiled in my dreamscape.

Multidimensional facets of reality. 

A dreamlike soundscape. 

A multidisciplinary approach in which the sound design is as crucial to the image, to echo Bill Morrisson – “it’s not background music, working in tandem with image”.

A series of kinetic images, of sourced dialogue, sifting through endless voice recordings, samples, found-footage. What was I to do with all of this?

 

The most problematic aspect to my creative process was that I kept questioning my decisions and processes, apprehensive to some degree in that I was creating this on my own and kept doubting my direction.

I wanted each image, each spoken word, each selected dialogue to have its intended place; a meaning and a message in my careful curation of clips.

At this point, I am deep in the creation stage of my manifesto – my computer wheezing at the multitude of clips, vocal samples and dialogue I have collected – a whirring machine preparing for yet another render, each time a wave of anxiety washes over me, the words of a student and creator who has been plagued by technological curses. Does not having access to equipment and the editing suites count as problematic? Because here I am in my lounge room, silently hoping my laptop survives the task at hand, followed by a daydream of Jil Bilcock’s editing set-up. 

As another render cycle begins, we reach a stage of doubt – and of retrospection. 

Color of Pomegranates. Sans Soleil. Touki Bouki. Pather Panchali. Passion of Joan of Arc. Breathless. I also revisited some earlier screenings from the studio, making sure to continue consulting my own viewing, acting as ‘a passeur of film,’  and engaging with cinema from all perspectives and forms because after all, ‘’what is perfectly familiar to a person in one sphere of culture is instantly esoteric to someone else in another sphere.” [Mysteries of Cinema, Adrian Martin]

I flick through my film journal – notes from my viewing of Citizen Kane:

“Support, then denounce.”

Just like my take on the canon, though I would not explicitly say I support it, I merely wish to reflect on the fact that I have an appreciation for a number of these films, though remain adamant in the fact that such canonical greats are fixated on a version of truth that omits and silences the voices of so many, in favour of the elusive auteur. The great man behind the camera, rather than the great women of who pieced together the images of which are so preciously idolised by the academy and its institutions, the colonial powers of cinema and the Western world reign supreme once more.

To draw on Foucault, power is exercised in relation to others, it is everywhere, exercised at all levels of society, exercised through knowledge, it is always open to resistance.