Termite Art in the 21st Century.

(image credit 1 & 2)

Manny Farber is not easy to read. Knowing what I do of Farber, I feel that he would be disappointed in me for this. Farber favourers have highlighted the fact that Farber’s writing, penned long before the disciplinary rise of film studies, is aimed at general readerships, and far less academic than a lot of the contemporary readings any typical film student might be exposed to today. While this makes me momentarily question my intelligence, I simultaneously comfort myself with the knowledge that, while Farber’s writing is considered to be somewhat anti-academic, the sheer density and attention to seemingly insignificant cinematic details that makes up Farber’s voice is yet to be matched by any that follow in his footsteps. Therefore, surely I am not the only one who struggles.

Farber once said that he could not ‘imagine a more perfect art form, a more perfect career than criticism,’ (in Hampton, 2003). Now let us not confuse the meaning of criticism in this context to mean indicating the faults of a subject, but rather, as the New Oxford American Dictionary, 3^rd edn (2010) defines it as, forming and expressing a sophisticated judgement of a subject. Farber was an accomplished painter as well as film critic and applied the principles of art criticism to his film writing. In the interest of forming and expressing sophisticated judgments of film, let us now shift our attention to Farber’s most well-known (and puzzled over) 1962 essay ‘White Elephant Art and Termite Art’. From my understanding of ‘white elephant art’, Farber likens the film industry, at the time, to be populated with filmmakers with a need to be viewed as great artists, creating ‘iceberg’ films, full of hidden meanings. It is this overblown, grandiose approach, in which it is all (strained) effect with little attention to detail, that is overshadowing the potential for ‘termite art’. From Farber’s examples (regrettably, none of which I have seen – perhaps this explains my confusion), the termite analysis – to ‘burrow in’ – can generally be applied to performance. Directorial technique equally, if not less so – though the term to ‘crawl over details’ can certainly apply – but for the purposes of this essay, performance it is.

Steve McQueen’s 2011 film Shame, starring Michael Fassbender as Brandon, displays certain termite tendencies. While Fassbender, himself, has received numerous accolades for his performance, the real termite artist in the film is Lucy Walters. Her character does not have a name, and she speaks no dialogue, but in just under three minutes of screen time Walters manages to craft an exceptionally expressive performance using just her face and body to burrow into the backstory she has created and let it ooze out of her as naturally as breathing. Walters plays the woman on the subway who catches Brandon’s eye at the very beginning and the very end of the film. In the beginning, they stare at each other. With nothing but seeming curiosity at first. Walters claims that, as part of her character’s backstory, the woman on the subway and Brandon do this dance often as they share the same commute to work (in Fuller, 2011). Walters’ face then displays a demure flattery at the attention she is receiving. In Walters’ mind, the woman is a newlywed, excited by the desire in Brandon’s eyes. She looks away and becomes internal, as if this is where it will end, the growing intensity of his gaze getting to be too much for her. After more looking and looking away, her breathing gets deeper, less resistant; sexualised. Crossing her legs and covering her ring to reveal more stocking-covered thigh, she is now relaxed against the train wall, staring directly into Brandon’s eyes with a longing so fierce it’s palpable. She has momentarily forgotten herself, relaxing into a post-coital bodily posture, mouth remaining open. She wants this. And then, as suddenly as she lost herself, she is found again. She averts her eyes mostly to the floor, and it is plain that she has remembered the significance of the ring on her finger, recalling the person who used to make her feel this way (possibly still does). An infinitesimal shake of the head decides it, as if shaking herself free from a powerful spell. Her face tenses and her eyes water ever so slightly, as her expression turns fearful, berating herself for where her lapse in judgement could have led her. Brandon comes up behind her as the train pulls to a stop, unaware of the change that has occurred in her attitude. To this sex addict, this is all just part of the game. It is all too much and she runs off, not to be seen again until the final scene of the film, sporting bright red lipstick and a noticeable come hither expression to contrast Brandon’s resignation. She has lived her own personal journey as he has lived his.

Walters’ termitic effort is enhanced by the ferocious, single-minded ambitiousness of Fassbender’s performance, rounded out by Harry Escott’s haunting original score. But she remains the standout. Walters pulls off what Farber believes to be the ultimate achievement for an actor: that of making it appear as if each thought and emotion (as well as line and phrase, though in this instance there are none) were entering their mind for the very first and last time, as in real life (in Petit, 1999). Every detail, in her three minutes of screen time, is meticulously crawled over. A true termite artist.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is ‘white elephant art’. If we are to understand this as a lack of attention to detail in filmmaking, then a good example might come from a ‘blockbuster’; a big budget, epic action or drama. Though I, myself, am a big fan of Christopher Nolan’s work as a filmmaker, his 2010 blockbuster Inception did fall prey to the foibles of ‘masterpiece art’ (bought at white elephant auctions decades ago according to Farber, hence the name). The film’s plot revolves around Leonardo DiCaprio as Dom Cobb, a skilled ‘extractor’ who is highly coveted in the business of stealing valuable secrets from the minds of those submitted to forced dreaming. Cobb is offered a chance to regain his old life as payment for a task involving ‘incepting’ an idea into another’s mind without them realising, generally considered to be impossible. Where writer Nolan slips up is around a crucial element of the ‘extraction’/’inception’ process: the shared device that the thieves use to conjoin dreams, and the sedatives accompanying it only exist in conscious reality. Considering ‘inception’ involves several layers of unconscious reality, how can we possibly be expected to believe that they will achieve this? The device cannot be used to achieve any more than a single level of dreaming, because it does not actually exist, let alone work, beyond this. Once the viewer realises this, the entire framework of the film becomes somewhat nullified. The plot already requires the viewer to suspend their disbelief – and for this, I commend Nolan, as ‘Inception’ is truly one of the most original films to be released in recent years, in particular on such a big budget – but this is one unbelievable detail that Nolan seems to have overlooked. But then perhaps, it is simply a matter of the presence of so much other detail that the viewer is expected not to notice; blinded by its effects and mastery, as it were. Well this viewer certainly did.

This is less of an essay on Manny Farber, himself, and more an exercise in applying the principles of his critical technique to my own writing as a film student. Have I achieved his level of depth and sophistication? Probably not. That would be some feat for a first try. But perhaps in time, and after many more emulative essays, I can hope to at least procure a clearer understanding of where he is coming from.

ROMANY

REFERENCES

Farber, M 1962-3, 'White Elephant Art vs. Termite Art' Film Culture 27 (Winter), pp. 9-13.

Fuller, G 2011 'Who's That Sexy Subway Rider Cruised by Michael Fassbender in "Shame?" Meet Breakout Actress Lucy Walters', Blouin Artinfo, retrieved 18 September 2013. <http://www.blouinartinfo.com/news/story/753643/whos-that-sexy-subway-rider-cruised-by-michael-fassbender-in-shame-meet-breakout-actress-lucy-walters>

Hampton, H 2003 Let Us Now Kill White Elephants, Believer, retrieved 18 September 2013. <http://www.believermag.com/issues/200309/?read=article_hampton>

Negative Space, 1999 [documentary] Christopher Petit, Illuminations Television, UK.

New Oxford American Dictionary, 3^rd Edition, 2010, Oxford University Press, New York.

Shame, 2011 [DVD] Steve McQueen, Transmission Films, New South Wales, Australia.