The Reflexive Mode

As I've been writing this blog, it has become more and more apparent to me that perhaps I have trust issues, because I seem to be extremely concerned about the pursuit of truth as presented by documentary. In a way, because of the sometimes theatrical nature of the reflexive mode, it, in a way, wakes up the viewer to a sense of healthy skepticism. The presentational nature of the reflexive mode is probably one of the best tools I’ve seen so far to make viewers participate more actively in the pursuit of truth in these documentaries.

 I first realized this when reading in Nichols, when he mentioned the documentary called “Chavez: Inside the Coup.” Nichols says that documentary filmmakers got media lies on film as police incited violence at a peaceful protest, which stood in stark contrast to what the media reported. To me, this was interesting because the news surely reported this incident in the straightforward, professional way they always do, instilling a sense of trust in their listeners. Because of the mode they told their story in, nobody seemed to question it. If, however, the news story had been portrayed like a scene on “The Office” instead, more than a few eyebrows would have been raised.

 The reflexive mode almost seems to be an invitation to filter through what is true and what is not.  I think Cane Toads did this in a few instances.  Specifically the drug addict raised my eyebrows.  In one shot, I could pretty much see his face, so his identity obviously wasn't super sensitive information, nor was the vibe I got from him an especially serious one.  It felt pretty performative to me, and I thought it was effective.  Errol Morris’ film “The Thing Blue Line”, which I viewed outside of class this week, is a terrific example of this. The juxtaposition of stories from actual players in a crooked murder case in Texas raised public awareness of the situation, which actually led to an innocent man being sent home from death row. The use of reenactments and music brings obvious drama into the situation and helps us more importantly see discrepancies in the story, motivating us to discover the truth. Truth was discovered and an innocent man was set free. Were it not for this mode, it’s possible that an innocent man could have died. To me, the use of drama is really a vehicle to draw the truth of the situation out. Inspiring.

The Participatory Mode

Something that I found so interesting about the participatory mode is what Barnouw said comparing the participatory mode with the modes previously discussed.  He said this “cinema verite” is just as truthful as other modes, but with the other modes (taking a fly on the wall approach), the truth simply wouldn’t manifest itself in situations, thus necessitating a mediator to participate with the subject and help draw the truth out.  When I first approached the participatory mode, I came to it with an expectation of encountering confrontational arguments that put one part on the spot and another party in a place which allowed him to manipulate how his subject was portrayed (ie pretty much ever Michael Moore film ever).  I was surprised to learn this wasn’t the case.

I discovered this first when watching Harlan County USA in which the filmmakers really only interfered when they knew the truth of the situation wasn’t already being presented.  For instance, the end of the movie showed a man going to work.  For probably 30-45 minute prior to this, the filmmakers almost never stepped in and were barely ever seen or noticed by the audience.  Here though, a girl simply asked a man if he was happy with their new contract or not.  This tasteful question may not have been given an answer were it not for their intervention.

For my outside-of-class examples, I have one joke example and one slightly more serious example.  First off, here’s one of my favorite participatory stories.  It’s a huge joke.  This interviewer is obviously not approaching his situation seriously and taking advantage of the on-the-spot feel of the participatory mode, but is instead the one struck with fear of the limelight instead of his subjects.

For my real example though, I decided to go with an episode of This American Life.  Pretty much any episode would do, but these journalists do a terrific job of letting the story happen as much as it can and only intervening when they feel it’s necessary to the story.

In this one, they take a particularly sensitive issue that would be really easy to get confrontational about, but are truly, honestly, simply attempting to draw the truth out of their subject, even when he's already lied to them once before.

Lights

So I brought up the idea of investigating what our eyes say about us in class.  However, as I began exploring this idea and how it could be pulled off, it occurred to me that I was going to New York this weekend and that I would be missing a great opportunity to get some cool footage and explore something else.  So instead of going with the eyes idea, I decided to stow that away until our next Doc Mode activity and instead made a piece about lights since, after all, I found myself in the city of lights this weekend.

LIGHTS

To begin, I’d say that this piece is an example of the poetic mode.  I say this for a few reasons.  There is no traditional narration or any sort of narrative device.  Anything the piece says is said through either its choice in music, its editing or its juxtaposition of images.  There’s not a person telling you or guiding you how to feel, but simply images for you to look at for your consideration and for you to form an opinion about.

There were also very even cuts to accompany the rhythm of the music, which is highly conformant to form rather than function.  Style is obviously important in this piece, maybe even more so than conveying any sort of message.

No on-set sound was used, continuity wasn’t an issue, and it was exploring a topic that was somewhat abstract.  All of these things combined make for a poetic documentary piece.

I would say that “Rain” and “Berlin: Symphony of a Great City” were the two biggest influences here.  “Rain” was a big influence because it showed me how to investigate a subject without worrying about a narrative thread necessarily, but still be able to say something.  If it weren’t for “Rain”, I likely wouldn’t have had the idea to start with small lights and get bigger and bigger, eventually revealing the most impressive lights of all: other people.  Likewise, “Berlin: Symphony of a Great City” taught me how enthralling footage of a city can be and that tribute can be paid just by paying attention to certain things.  New York is obviously an impressive city, and merely showing that is a commentary on its grand stature.

I felt that using the poetic mode here was the best way to both show the impressive nature of New York and also comment that as amazing as it is, people are what makes the world so amazing, not necessarily the edifices the construct.  Without saying a single word, I was able to explore these ideas possibly more deeply than I would have with commentary, making the poetic mode an ideal choice for this type of documentary.

The steez

After giving Nichols’ reading some serious thought, I feel that one thing he highlighted was sort of glossed over once you consider its true importance.  When discussing the five “departments” of documentary filmmaking, one stood out to me that seems almost more important than the rest:  Style.

Nichols spent all but two paragraphs explaining his thoughts concerning the use of style.  Essentially, he professed that style is like the wrapping a present comes delivered in.  I would argue that while he’s on the right track, the degree of importance may be slightly off.  I would argue that it’s more central than that.  I would say that style is like the marinade a steak has soaked in.  Style should be more highly integrated than a wrapping paper is.  Earlier in the chapter, Nichols talked about Aristotle’s three methods of argument, namely ethos, pathos and logos.  He then proposed that each of the five “departments” appealed to one of those in some way.  Just as a review, those five methods are invention, arrangement, style, memory and delivery. 

The method in which somebody conveys a story is almost as important as the story itself.  A poorly presented story is hard to watch, even if the subject matter is enthralling (unless, of course, the story is intentionally presented in a poor manner as a stylistic choice).  One group of people I’ve always appreciated for their storytelling style is Radiolab.  This is honestly the closest thing I got to viewing a documentary outside of class this week.  But this is both brilliantly researched, and brilliantly presented.  PLUS—it features Errol Morris, one of the world’s foremost documentarians and the whole segment is about the pursuit of truth, which should be central to every documentarian’s purposes.

This podcast has not only interesting subject matter, but also does a terrific job of telling it in a way that’s conducive to the story.  Its style is why I have an emotional reaction to it and why it stays embedded in my memory.