Gay Film Studies

The focus of this paper is to connect an area of film studies (related to film sound) and recent findings in neuroscience. Since 1929 and Alfred Hitchcock's "Blackmail" subjective film sound has been introduced and after that significantly "tweaked" and redefined. However, it is quite interesting to observe that even though the filmmakers "intuitively" arrived at the sort of "formula" for creating the oneiric sound experience, there is actually neuroscientific evidence that supports this "formula".

The article discusses the strength of stillness both at a narrative level related to Rosana’s appearance and at an aesthetic level related to the soundtrack. The quiet sound design communicates intensity and meaning, as does Rosana, who is largely ignored by the family but is an eminently strong character.

The Screenplay as Book THOUGH HE WAS KNOWN most widely as a filmmaker, Derek Jarman' s literary output was prodigious and eclectic. He published art manifestos, diaries, notebooks, poetry, memoirs, autobiographies, and, of course, screenplays. In his 1996 introduction to Up in the Air, a collection of Jarman' s unfilmed screenplays, Michael O'Pray rightly points out that "for Jarman, scripts were never simply means to ends. They were always intensely personal writings that expressed strong beliefs and emotions. When they failed to materialise as films, they were not shelved and forgotten. They remained as projections of his inner world. They always seemed to have a life for him, to be part of himself, and I suspect it was painful for him to leave them behind." 1 Yet at the same time, O'Pray refers to the works published in Up in the Air as Jarman' s "unrealised film scripts," reverting to the conventional view of screenplays as incomplete texts looking elsewhere for their consummation and legitimacy. Such a view clings determinedly in this case to the belief that Jarman' s public recognition is based principally on his finished films. But as Roger Wollen reminds us, Jarman' s "output was not compartmentalized: he put over his ideas in every medium open to him." 2 And as Tony Peake suggests in his biography, "Jarman was, of course, far from being a novice with the pen." There are even those, Peake reminds us, who rate him more highly as a writer than as a painter or filmmaker, and Jarman himself in his private papers reveals a salient investment in his identity as a professional author. 3 Given his considerable contributions to the world of letters, it may be useful to see Jarman' s published screenplays not as "unrealised" precursors deferring by definition and necessity to another medium, but as literary texts that at times, as in Derek Jarman's Caravaggio, the 1986 companion screenplay to the film Caravaggio, make use of iconography from the feature films. As textual documents, Jarman' s "annotated screenplays" demand critical attention, 4 enunciating the uniquely peculiar status of the screenplay in late-twentiethcentury print culture while simultaneously foregrounding many of the 215

The paper analyses the score made of music and the one made of music silence in Ang Lee's 2005 drama Brokeback Mountain, and tries to prove how skillful, precisely and emotionally navigated use of both, can accentuate all the important ideas of a film. The way we experience this story, and how strong we react to it, is partly due to its sound, musical and ambient, and the lack of it. The sharp contrast between sound and music, and the way it is used to accentuate important emotional relationships, as well as the atmosphere in this film, is as important for the storyline and the emotional engagement of the audience, as the script and the way Lee directed the film. This film features musical silence as an important tool which allows the superb dialog to unfold, giving the narrative space it deserves, and defines the atmosphere and mood of the film, as much as the music score. We notice each occurrence of every music

This paper presents a detailed design for a content-based unit, the focus of which is the film Caravaggio (1986) by British director Derek Jarman. The unit also includes readings in art history and film and is part of a specialized EAP /ESP reading comprehension course for firstyear students majoring in art history and in a multidisciplinary arts program at Tel Aviv University, Israel. The paper includes the practical and theoretical rationale for selecting and sequencing the materials and the tasks which require students to integrate and synthesize the various texts. The paper addresses various theoretical and pedagogical concerns faced by course designers and classroom instructors in an EFL context.

Libera Me, an experimental film by Alain Cavalier, navigates the interplay between different filmic elements by reducing the effects of each. Mise-en-scène and sound are the two formal elements that are essential to this film, but they are both restrained. Cavalier experiments with the way in which mise-en-scène and sound interact by eliminating various aspects of each element. Independently, these formal elements contribute to larger themes. With the direct juxtaposition of the two, mise-en-scène emerges as the more powerful element Cavalier uses in the relation of a commentary on authoritarianism.

In this article, the authors argue that the 2013 omnibus film Valencia: The Movie/s (US) presents a unique approach to collective filmmaking in its adaptation of Michelle Tea's queer coming-of-age memoir Valencia (2000). This approach creates a sense of cultural inclusion, expanding the definition of the subculture Tea so vividly represents in her memoir about the punk-dyke community of San Francisco's Mission District in the 1990s. The omnibus structure of the film, in which every chapter presents a disjunctive shift in the aesthetics and cast of actors, provides audiences with a contemporary vision of queer feminism that embraces a multitude of gender expressions. This approach can be understood in the context of the cultural changes to lesbian and queer communities over the past twenty years, shaped by the growing visibility and inclusion of transgender politics. The authors also argue that Valencia: The Movie/s provides an anti-nostalgic attitude toward the gentrification of Valencia Street and the Mission District today. In representing Tea's Valencia through the lens of twenty different directors filming in multiple locations, the film adaptation resists one of the defining aspects of the book—that subculture is rooted in a particular place and time. Valencia: The Movie/s presents a kaleidoscopic and celebratory vision of Tea's memoir while simultaneously presenting a notion of dyke community that transcends its once-defined physical boundaries.

El cuerpo adolescente es un cuerpo que puede tener o, mejor dicho, adquirir muchos significados, desde culturales a socioeconómicos o genérico-sexuales sin que unos puedan separarse de los otros y sus intersecciones puedan ser analizadas unas al margen de las otras. Es un cuerpo que cambia en una mente en ebullición, o al menos eso dicta el lugar común, un lugar común que suele tener bastante de verdad, aunque no siempre como se espera desde diversas instancias. En este sentido, una película tan increíblemente pacata en ciertos aspectos-llegando a lo decepcionante a estas alturas de la historia del cine LGTB-resulta de gran interés para estudiar las nuevas masculinidades de los jóvenes proto-queer en el cine español del nuevo milenio , en este caso un cine español fronterizo en gran manera, ya que los protagonistas son un chico marroquí y uno bilbaíno ubicados en el extrarradio de Bilbao.

This paper reassesses Derek Jarman's film The Tempest (UK 1979) against recent developments in film adaptation theory in order to reach conclusions about its controversial handling of the Shakespearean source material. After locating the film's lack of general critical acclaim in the practice of traditional fidelity criticism, current concepts of film adaptation theory are applied to the film's content and structure, placing it in the cultural context of British counterculture in the 1970s. Jarman's Tempest is analysed by discussing the film's three male protagonists in terms of gender, considering its director's choices of characterisation and plot against the backdrop of queer politics. Moving from Caliban's characterisation as non-racialised, non-threatening and essentially human on Jarman's queer agenda, Caliban and Ariel are contrasted as conflictive sexual tendencies within their master Prospero, interiorising the film's action in the latter's mind as an allegory of the release of homo-erotic desire. As a result, Jarman's rewriting of the original is seen as a subversive deconstruction in service of his gay politics and an independent piece of art.

That is why, he argues, the heads in so many self-portraits turn away from the torso. 1 (The image at far left is thought to be a surviving fragment of the actual painting reproduced in the engraving.) I have argued for years that the over-theshoulder pose was characteristic of self-representation in that artists often turn to look at their model while keeping their torso facing the canvas. That, at times, they were turning to look in a mirror is Fried's original contribution.

Working beyond mainstream practice, Derek Jarman creates films that are unusually musical. Caravaggio, a biography of the artist, is a case in point. Jarman’s collaboration with composer Simon Fischer Turner from the start of the filmmaking  process enables music to assume a structural role, a procedure that turns common music-image interaction
on its head in two ways. First, rather than strive for the audio-visual fusion common to many mainstream films, music and image are here uxtaposed. Second, as music becomes audible, the film’s illusion of realism is destroyed. This article explores how Jarman’s challenge to conventional filmmaking procedure can expose the fragility of reception history by comparing visual, literary, and musical versions of Caravaggio’s
biography.