Somewhere I read about (playwright, screenwriter, director) David Mamet’s book On Directing Film (Viking, 1991) in relation to comics: a brief quote that intrigued me. I no longer remember where I read this, but I did get the book from the library. It’s a slim collection based on lectures Mamet gave at Columbia in 1987. I’m just going to offer a few excerpts with some (probably obvious) comments on how I see the relation to comics.
Most American directors approach it [what's the scene about, where do I put the camera] by saying, “let’s follow the actors around,” as if the film were a record of what the protagonist did.
Now if the film is a record of what the protagonist does, it had better be interesting. That is to say, this approach puts the director in a position of shooting the film in a novel way, an interesting way, and he or she is constantly wondering, “what’s the most interesting place to put the camera to film this love scene? what’s the most interesting way I can shoot it plainly?…
That’s the way most American films are made, as a supposed record of what real people really did. There’s another way to make a movie, which is the way that Eisenstein suggested a movie be made. This method has nothing to do with following the protagonist around but rather is a succession of images juxtaposed so that the contrast between these images moves the story forward in the mind of the audience. This is a fairly succinct rendition of Eisenstein’s theory of montage; it is also the first thing I know about film directing, virtually the only thing I know about film directing.
You always want to tell the story in cuts. Which is to say, through the juxtaposition of images that are basically uninflected. Mr. Eisenstein tells us that the best image is an uninflected image. A shot of a teacup. A shot of a spoon. A shot of a fork. A shot of a door. Let the cut tell the story. Because otherwise you have not got dramatic action, you have narration. If you slip into narration, you are saying, “you’ll never guess why what I just told you is important to the story.” It’s unimportant that the audience should guess why it’s important to the story. It’s important simply to tell the story. Let the audience be surprised. (1-2)
*
The job of the film director is to tell the story through the juxtaposition of uninflected images–because that is the essential nature of the medium. It operates best through the juxtaposition, because that’s the nature of human perception: to perceive two events, determine a progression, and want to know what happens next. (60)
*
Where do you put the camera? We did our first movie and we had a bunch of shots with a hall here and a door there and a staircase there.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” one might say, “if we could get this hall here, really around the corner from that door there; or to get that door here to really be the door that opens on the staircase to that door there?” So we could just move the camera from one to the next?
It took me a great deal of effort and still takes me a great deal and will continue to take me a great deal of effort to answer the question thusly: no, not only is it not important to have those object literally contiguous; it is important to fight against this desire, because fighting it reinforces an understanding of the essential nature of film, which is that it is made of disparate shorts, cut together. It’s a door, it’s a hall, it’s a blah-blah. Put the camera “there” and photograph, as simply as possible, that object. It we don’t understand that we both can and must cut the shots together, we are sneakily falling victim to the mistaken theory of the Steadicam. (74)
*
In the old cartoons, the artists realized the essence of the theory of montage, which is that they could do whatever the heck they wanted. It wasn’t any more expensive to draw it from a high angle or a long angle. They didn’t have to keep the actors late to draw a hundred people rather than one person, or send out for that very expensive Chinese vase. Everything was based on the imagination. The shot we see in the film is the shot the artist saw in his imagination. So if you watch cartoons, you can learn a great deal about how to choose shots, how to tell the story in pictures, how to cut. (80)
Reading these passages (and the more in-depth discussion that follows), I found it hard to not think about comics. Juxtaposition of images? That’s comics, too. What’s interesting here is Mamet’s use of Eisenstein’s theory of montage. “Uninflected cuts” makes me think of the aspect-to-aspect transitions that is popular in some manga. The sense of forming a whole from parts.
For some reason Mamet’s words exhilarated me with the possibilities for more indirect comics narrative. Not “following the protagonist” but telling a story with more objects and people and parts and… cuts. Why try to set up an “establishing shot” of a scene when you can show the important parts without concern for fitting it all together. I’m not talking here about leaving narrative behind, but rather making narrative in some different way.
This all came as a kind of antidote to much of the advice in McCloud’s Making Comics. His concern for human stories and facial expressions and immersing the reader in an environment and the realist mode is here shattered by Mamet into a million cuts/panels (the facial expression thing comics up when Mamet talks about actors, which I am not excerpting). The one quote about perception also reminds me of McCloud’s closure.
It’s a happy coincidence that the book I read after this was Dash Shaw’s Mother’s Mouth. Shaw uses of juxtaposed image in a skillful way that adds meaning over the course of the reading and rereading of the book. More on that when I review it next week.
(Odd note: Mamet wrote a screenplay with Shel Silverstein called Things Change. I just noticed it in the “other works by” at the front of this book.)
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9 Responses to “Mamet on Comics”
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I couldn’t put my finger on why McCloud’s chapter “World Building” rubbed me the wrong way, but I think you’ve helped articulate it better for me. Comics and film are generally the last to admit that what they are making is an illusion of depth on a two-dimensional object.
Sure we get the “OMG we’re in a webcomic!”, but its not quite Brecht’s Three Penny Opera- more of a way to make the first several updates in a new gag-a-day strip.
Sure we have abstraction, but its not Yves Klein flattening the picture plane to draw attention to the paint, its because of the deadline to produce work quickly that prints easily.
We have people writing in hindsight that cartoonists were trying to capture the essence of the charater through economy of line, but I wonder how many comic artists really thought about why they drew the characters the way they did.
Ooh, this is good stuff….
Check out the Kuleshov effect, too:
http://www.austinkleon.com/?p=135
Kuleshov’s experiment was a big influence on Eisenstein.
Austin, I recall a conversation on the Oubapo-America list about Kuleshov’s experiment. Interesting stuff. I’ve started reading a collection of Eisenstein’s writing now to see what he has to say.
Grant, would you say literature falls into the same category of making an illusion of depth? My disagreement with the idea of realism as immersion in a work is how much the “realist” modes are just a codified style rather than any true attempt at catching reality.
Derik, I’m not sure if I understand your question.
I think there’s plenty of fiction that admits that it is a written object. The best example I can think of Vonnegut’s “Breakfast of Champions” where the author comes into the story as almost a god figure and confronts the protagonist. He also refers to the characters as his puppets in BOC and other later works.
I’m not saying every work needs to employ defamiliarization or metafiction, but I’d like to see comics explore this more.
Hi Derik, It’s possible that it was talking with me that Mamet came up before since Jessica and I have used some of his ideas in our teaching–we picked it up in turn from Tom Hart and Nick Bertozzi, and Nick at least uses it in his classes at SVA.
I think it’s a very provocative and useful book for cartoonists, even if I disagree with as many things as I agree with. It’s also a hilarious read and I encourage you to try getting drunk and reading it out loud to friends. You might drive them crazy but you will be having a grand old time, I promise!
One comment from your initial post: I don’t take “uninflected” to mean nothing is happening in a given shot/panel, as in an “aspect-to-aspect” transition; it’s rather that meaning is not created by actors mugging at the camera and saying, to get into Mametmode, “Hi How are you! I’m a serial murderer myself as you will soon find out!” To use the Understanding Comics terms, aspect-to-aspect transitions don’t move the story forward so they are fundamentally useless to Mamet–they do not serve his “superobjective’–and I can hear his caustic dismissal echoing in my head as he dismisses 90% of all manga, among other things (one among the many things I take issue with). Any “McCloudian” transition can (and according to Mamet should–and here I tend to agree with him) be uninflected: you see a man with a top hat over his head and then with the top hat on his head. We don’t need him winking at us and saying “I’m putting on my top hat!” We can figure that out for ourselves.
Have you seen any Robert Bresson? I feel he is the ultimate expression of what Mamet is talking about here. A Man Escaped is to me one of the most heart-pounding action movies I’ve ever seen, and the actor (or what Bresson called his “model”–you wrote something about his Notes on Film, didn’t you?) never shows any emotion at all, it’s all done through cuts. It’s part of the success of modern deadpan humorists like Jarmusch, Hartley, and Kaurismaaki–if their actors acted any more than they did their movies might easily become cutesy or maudlin…
Matt
I realized I should give a comics example of this kind of uninflected storytelling and at the risk of choosing someone too obscure, Carol Swain comes to mind. Also Anders Nilsen, Gabrielle Bell, Trondheim… I’m sure there are other better examples, that’s just off the top of my head
M
Matt: I should probably have clarified my meaning when I brought up the manga aspect-to-aspect transitions. I don’t think they necessarily that those transitions have “nothing” happening, rather they build meaning (not always, but in some cases) through an accumulation of “uninflected” images. The meaning is created through the parts as parts rather than through each individual panel having its own meaning. If that makes any sense at all.
It’s not exactly what Mamet was talking about, but it’s what I thought about when I read it. And it wouldn’t necessarily be aspect-to-aspect transitions, I think this is where the, misnamed, “non sequitur” transitions come in. Oblique connections that might not make sense on a surface level but create some kind of meaning/emotion through the combination of panels. (Something like you see in Dash Shaw’s work.)
Maybe my sense of “uninflected” is different.
I have not seen any Bresson (I wrote about Rohmer’s notes on film while back), but I am a huge fan of Jarmusch. He was one director I thought of when reading the Mamet, though in my interpretation of it, I was also thinking of Godard and his more experimental films.
I’m not familiar with Swain, I’ll have to look her up.
Grant: Sorry, forgot to reply to your last comment: I think I missed the “last to admit” part of your post about illusion and depth.
I’m a little wary of the meta-fictional style you mention being used in comics. Though maybe it is just because I’m read so much of that in literature and it’s all very … old? cliched? now.
Probably the best example in comics I can think of is Cerebus. Sim inserts himself into the story at a very interesting part. Politics aside, Sim is one of the great comics innovators.
What I mean by comics being the last to admit that they are created objects, is that most mainstream comics use traditional rules of perspective to render space inside each panel. What I was struck by in “Making Comics” is how McCloud went on and on about how readers will connect with your story more if you are more specific in how you draw your backgrounds.
This completely contradicts what he says in Understanding Comics where he says that the more simply you draw your character, the better readers will connect with him/her because they can project themselves onto it. The arguement being that people can project themselves on Charlie Brown because his is drawn simply. . . which is crazy because people connect with Charlie Brown because they’ve felt like a supreme loser at some point in there life.
I agree that having the creator step in is over-used in comics. It works in Maus so we remember that he is a generation removed from the story and it becomes a little sub-plot about making the comic in order to understand the tragedy that made his father the man he is now. In Epileptic I think its a cop-out.
What I am more interested in is comics using abstraction and things specific to comics (speach balloons, etc) and drawing attention to them the way 20th century paintings draw attention to the paint.
Obviously, we are not in a modernist art-making schema any more and we should avoid a comics for comic’s sake mentality. But lets not take things like panel borders for granted. As you have pointed out, there are ways to integrate the panel borders into the storytelling. My Fright Night piece is a bit over the top, but I had the balloons actually eating the panels!
That the kind of metafiction I’m interested in seeing in comics, not poorly drawn strips where the artist is shown sitting at the drafting table explaining why he can’t bring himself to update hsi comic today.