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David Neumeyer Laura Neumeyer | Motion and Stillness: Photography, "Shadow Play", Music

author:Symbols and Media
David Neumeyer Laura Neumeyer | Motion and Stillness: Photography, "Shadow Play", Music
David Neumeyer Laura Neumeyer | Motion and Stillness: Photography, "Shadow Play", Music

Author | David Neumeyer Laura Neumeyer

Translated by | Lu Zhenglan and Cao Junying

Introduction

It is well known that throughout the 20th century, the visual arts seriously challenged the artistic primacy of writing (by the end of the 20th century, this challenge had spread to the entire cultural realm). Sound recording and playback are also in their respective ranges, and this change may be more dramatic in terms of music than in the field of language. Of course, the reality is not so simple: on the one hand, the cultural changes in images and sounds have deep historical roots. Centuries ago, slide projectors gradually undermined the perpetuity of the visual (and therefore their priority was also questioned): slide projectors "projected pre-captured images" and made them "inevitably fleeting" (Schlossman 1997: 79). According to Schlossman, the main purpose of the "invention of photographic technology" was to preserve. Throughout the 19th century, "freeze-frame" photographic images had to coexist with "fleeting" projection slides, panoramic projections, and similar devices developed from slide projectors (not to mention those "styling performances" that turned to imitate living people and costume props). In both artistic approaches, music and language, performance clearly dominated, but as early as the last decades of the 18th century, the booming market for loose-leaf sheet music not only created commercialized musical forms (much earlier than wax disc records, automatic pianos, and plastic records), but also produced many similar cultural effects: it promoted the taste of social unity, popular genres, and dominated the market and the enthusiast market, and the musical score, together with written instruction and instructions, influenced the evolution of musical performance styles to some extent.

Another decisive factor in the 20th century was the image of activity in cinema. Everyone sees this, but its far-reaching significance is not yet fully understood. The medium that really had aesthetic characteristics of the 20th century was sound films. Because of the movie, the cinematography moved. The change in music may not be so obvious, but it is precisely because of the recording technology that the music can "stand on its feet". Not only can music like minimalist music and electronic dance music be repeated continuously, but more importantly, they become manufactured goods, objects and commodities – whether it is CDs or MP3 files, they transcend their on-the-spot performance, so that the performance factors of these manufactured products (such as what DJs do) completely replace traditional musical scores (LP records and sample recordings, replacing chord and melodic scores). In other words, the connection between static and dynamic has changed: at least it has become more complex. The Internet has not fundamentally changed this fact: it not only continues to be a composite form of sight and hearing, but now interacts in a more direct form. The question of the various meaningful connections between watching, reading, and listening is before us, and when we are facing a computer screen, we must coordinate these elements every moment. 1

In today's situation, in the face of everything, one can be fooled by the remark of the following unusually succinct statement that the main feature of media discourse is its pluralism (Schroder 2001:221) – in which "experience" can be used instead of "discourse" to emphasize the topic we are discussing. Cinema is a typical, directly speaking, because cinema has been the catalyst for the course of history, and in our field of vision, cinema is still a unique and rich field of study, and we can study the strings of terms image/sound, stillness/movement, contemplation/experience. The still image (photograph or painting in a wooden frame) mentioned here can be restored in a new form in the cinema, and furthermore, the "still movement" can be harmonized with music. 2 It is well known that the contrast between the studium/Punctum, established by Roland Bart, provides a famous starting point for photographic research. By using stillness as a type of rupture, we can establish a series of associations that can also be applied to "shadow play" and music; to illustrate these connections, we analyze some of the functions associated with the narrative, such as the interaction of foreground and background factors; extended shots, telephoto shots, insertion shots; "fantasy" shots or montages. Our analysis will mention a number of films, including Gril with a Pearl Earring (2003) and a recent film based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (2005).

Face/Thorn Point: Methods of Photographic Analysis of Bart

Roland Barthes, in his early reviews of film, seems to have taken a real approach to thinking about the problems of what he called "heterogeneity," one of which is cinema. Despite his willingness to study the "homogeneous factor," Bart admits: "In reality ... Most of the mixtures that exist are mixtures: for example, written language for clothes and depictions of fashion; images, music, and dialogue in movies, and so on. (1997:97; cf.30) Christian Metz, on the other hand, emphasizes the complexity of cinema and the difficulty of research. He argues that "the art of cinema is a huge subject, and there is more than one way to study it" (1991:3), "the art that is called 'cinema' in the world is a huge and complex social and cultural phenomenon." As a whole, it is not suitable for the study of strict unity, but should be possible to have many different ways of observation, many different points of view. ”(1974:9)。

Mytz's status as the founder of film semiotics is worthy of recognition. Soon after, in the influential book The Imaginary Signifier, he tried to overcome some of the problems of film system analysis. Following Lacan, Metz proposed cinematic psychoanalysis in addition to the study of the traditional film text structure, establishing a "second semioticism" that shifted the focus from "the structural study of early Saussure-style film-specific symbols to the ideographic relationship produced by the interaction between film and the audience". (Carroll 1988:32-33) At the most basic level, movie viewing consists of two elements, namely the film and the audience. The shift in Mytz's status represents a general shift in film theory in the 1970s, from focusing on the analysis of cinema as an independent aesthetic object or system (the audience as a passive recipient) to placing the film on an equal footing with the audience, with the result that there is a greater focus on the "chasm" between the two (e.g., how the film manipulates the audience, etc.).

The psychoanalytic model of film theory was eventually criticized, especially from film theorists who advocated cognition-based (particularly fierce criticism from Bordwell, Carroll, and others). Despite criticism from practitioners of cognitivism and semiotics (such as Branigan, Buckland, and others), we cannot say that Mytz's analytical generalizations about the fundamental position of cinema are no longer useful. Nor has Barthes's basic method of defining it: "It is necessary to accept heterogeneous bodies, but ... In order for us to seriously study the methodical connection of the material in question, attention must be paid to the language that separates reality from the representation of reality. That is, we need to make a structural interpretation of its heterogeneity" (1977:97-98). "Methodically connected materials" and "their unambiguous heterogeneity" are the basis for analyzing the relationship between still and moving images, between photography and cinema. 3

It cannot be said that Balte was obsessed with photography, but he did write about it and returned to it many times in his life. Although for the most part, he only uses discussion photography as a support when discussing other topics (Nickel 2000: 232). By extension, it's no surprise that, judging by the semiotic patterns he developed in the 1960s, he noticed the visual factor (it's clear that photography is an important factor in The Fashion System). His famous treatise, The Rhetoric of Imagery, has a chapter, "Photographic Information," which deals directly with photography as an intermediary, but in Barthes's last book, La Chamber Claire, he devoted himself to a fully expanded discussion, much like many of his later books (notably The Pleasure of the Text and A Lover's Discourse). These differ from his earlier scientific semiotic writings. However, while these later works emphasize the view of pleasure in multiple symbol systems ( including language ) , a thread that runs through Balth 's academic career can be seen , which is also the key and argument of the Chamber of Light : the opposition between subjective experience and bourgeois fantasy ( Stafford 1998 , 216 ) . 4 This opposition is most evident in his Mythology. Discussing photography, Barthes focuses on the opposition between cultural taming and irrational intuitive experience. He is known to refer to this intuitive experience as "jouissance." So he insists that our options are limited: "We can code [photographic] wonders to civilizations that are perfectly imagined, otherwise they are... An awakening in the face of a tricky reality. (p. 119 of the book). 5

Not surprisingly, Barthes returned to freeze-frame photography in the last years of his life, because photography fits his focus on simple and straightforward opposition. Zhimian is a bourgeois fantasy mechanism about photography: seeking order, clarity, unity in photographic subjects, depictions, and designs, all of which are regulated by cultural coding. It's like W. Mitchell. I. T. Mitchell) describes: "The rhetoric of the intellectual face is the 'rational regulation of moral or political culture', which allows photographs to be 'read' or to allow scientific theories about photographs to appear" (1989:10; Barthes 1981:37). The thorn point, on the other hand, is foul and blocked: some elements "stand out", forcing attention to direct experience, abandoning order in order to gain experience. To quote Mitchell again: "Barthes emphasizes that the confused, sharp details always sting or hurt him. These details (a necklace, broken teeth, arms clasped, dirty streets) have accidental, uncoded, nameless features that open the photograph metaphorically into a realm adjacent to memory and subjectivity. Barthes took this antagonism one step further strongly, as the last photograph he analyzed was of his mother, who had just died. 6 The Chamber is described as a "game between general theoretical language and individual emotions or human reactions, which is the epitome of the theory expressed by Barth" (Allen 2003:126).

Barthes considers his theory imperfect, and the sharp opposition between the face/the thorn point is the mark. He later acknowledged this in his book when redefining the thorn point. We may call it an ideological thorn (first definition), and the result is impossible to achieve. For once the thorn point is identified in the photograph, "the photograph ceases to belong to the thorn point and becomes a symbol of social communication: the knowing face" (Attridge 1997:81-3; paraphrased allen 2003:127)7. Eventually, Barthes allowed all theoretical possibilities to disintegrate, because he saw the thorn point as some double symbol describing the presence, as the pastity of such presence ("always so", Barthes 1981: 79), or as Nickel put it , " the technical coding of the future pre-existing thing " ( 2000: 233 ) . In this way, Barthes "strives to defend the image of his mother from cultural assimilation (i.e., the generalization of language violence), even though he knows that such a defense is impossible" (Allen 2003:132).

Realizing that the face-to-face/piercing opposition is not a theoretical rhetorical form, we don't know how to proceed. Rather than abandoning this antagonism and finding other ways, it is better to look back at a controversy a few years ago, which the Chamber of Light owes mainly to. The Pleasure of The Text is undoubtedly the central theoretical work of Barthes's last decade, and it "summarizes the theory of textual pleasure, transforming the text, like anything else, into an object of pleasure, thus discarding the difference between reality and meditative life." ”(Hussey 1987:107)

Here comes the famous group of terms: readership-pleasure-author-ecstasy. "Barthes assumed the opposition of two forms of text, which was based on the pleasure of the reader, distinguishing between the two forms of pleasure: pleasure, i.e., pleasure, comfort, perfection from the reader-like text; ecstasy, i.e., pleasure, and fascination that arose from the text that forced him to be uncomfortable and restless." In The Chamber of Revelation, the face of knowledge/prickly dot undoubtedly replaces pleasure/ecstasy (for example, we read this: "The face of knowledge is a broad field of many unrelated desires, which contains all kinds of interesting, insignificant preferences: I like/I don't like, it is a kind of "like", not love; it mobilizes a half-hearted desire, a will" (p. 27)). But in the earlier book, the results were not as drastic as in the Chamber of Revelation: Barthes argues that "the result of discourse pleasure comes not only from the moment of discovery of ecstasy (lost, broken) from a comfortable text, but also in the fact that a postmodernist work is made readable, allowing it to convey a sense of rupture." So neither the culture nor its destruction is tempting, but the rupture between them is exciting. (Hussey 1987:107) In other words, Atritch's conclusion is incorrect: the details are not "no longer among the thorns, the elements of the violation remain, and we can identify them, even if the thorns, as a category, are rationalized into the discursive limitations of the system logic (that is, falling into the mindset of the audience's operations)."

Therefore, the issue at hand is not an ideological question, but the effect of attention. The eye looks at the photograph, it must constantly wander, the thorn point becomes a moment of attention, becomes an unusual point of interest. Attention creates a spacing, a crack, the solution of which can be systemic. That is, part of the process of interpretation allows narrative meaning to emerge from photograph (in David Podwell's system based on Gestalt theory, this display became the solution to the narrative rift [1985:54-55]). 8 On the other hand, this rift may not be completely resolved, so we always need to keep in mind the constructiveness, deceptiveness, myth-making nature in the aesthetic order of photography. We have to deal with three term antagonisms: order - readership - knowing/breaking - authorial - piercing, and when we add attention effect to this opposition, the results are staggering. Stationary is not orderly (like the "stagnation" of the bourgeois ideological stereotype, as one might think), but rather allows the thorns to attract attention. Thus, we are faced with order – readership – knowing – motion/rupture – authorship – piercing – stillness. Here, "movement" constantly takes order into shock, eyes moving around the image, and as we will see in a short time, the logic of the cinematic narrative is arranged on the moving image. 9 Thus, the theories in Barthes' Chambers can be reinterpreted in The Pleasure of the Text, thus becoming complex synthetic oppositions of multiple terms.

Images and motion

We have seen Balth's intellectual aspect, a methodical cognitive (decoding, describing, or illustrating) process, which is easy to think of pragmatic painters assisted by a slide projector (a mechanical "decoding" method that benefits the painter's vision), but it can be used for the most direct basic pattern analysis in film (the number and length of shots, photographic modes, such as double shots, close-ups, repeating shots, etc.) movement, as the essence of the film's "moving picture", is the object of our description. Music and film share the same "natural" cognitive patterns; other sound elements (mostly dialogue) are imported, often narrative and linguistic encodings in meaning. The combination of image and sound/music produces a complex "heterogeneous system" that "presents a great deal of information in the form of pictures and illustrative narratives, so that many beliefs and preferences form an alternative world of things and values" (Morton 2003:333) and greatly enhance the sense of narration of the audience-listener.

Once the image moves through the film, the underlying fracture function changes dramatically: the splitting factor is no longer the focus of attention, it is used by the viewer to organize the visual (and auditory) flow of information that would otherwise be overwhelming. Michel Chion's Audiovisual Phrasing (see Chion 1994:190) provides an interpretive strategy for this issue. The point of emphasis (i.e., the compelling element or moment) is fundamental to the clarity of the clauses. This is interesting because clause clarity is a musical term that Shion borrowed from film studies. Separately, clipping is always a potential focus on image trajectories, generally used to achieve an effect (moving indoors and outdoors, shifting the lens, providing an insertion lens, emphasizing on another level), but the accent point is also potentially fractured. Indeed, this is the most basic reason for the film's discontinuity (hence, the motivation for continuous editing historically, is to create a smooth narrative flow that avoids discontinuities in the image). Narrative is the most basic element in sound films, and the following description is eloquent: "... Cinema brings objects and figures into motion, and through the visual method of narrative, special synthesis, unparalleled synthesis of the influence of poetry and painting" (Scholes 1982: 66). But sound films are not just narratives of images, with Šion paying particular attention to the emphatics on the soundtracks that are reflected and imposed on different levels of image streams. A sound accent point, a strong noise outside the picture, an unexpected speech, a sudden shift in volume, a powerful note that suddenly breaks in the music, always exerts its breaking potential when entering at this moment. Two factors arise at this time: (1) the synchronization of sound and image is a problem that is always caused, and for any sound, "What is the source of it?" (Mytz's 'spatial anchoring' view [1985:158]) ;(2) Emphasizing that points are bound to undermine the continuing, peaceful background sound. So, like shearing, even though sound is always potentially aggressive, it is a fundamental element for organization and perception.

In this way, cinema—because it is like music as an art of movement, and unlike literature as an art of narrative—can achieve a balance just fine (indeed, it has no choice but to accomplish that balance), which Barth proposed in The Pleasure of Text, but later tried to abandon in The Chamber of Light. While this balance may be described modestly as the basic condition for what constitutes a film, what we would like to say here is that the interaction between order and rupture, the intellectual face and the piercing point is particularly clear in some aspects of a film: (1) the interaction of foreground and background factors; (2) the still image (extended or telephoto; the inserted lens, especially the inserted photograph or painting) ;(3) the "fantasy" shot or montage. In discussing each of the following types of examples, we will also introduce these, or potential, features of sound and music.

Fractured background

Hitchcock's own cameo in the background of the film is a simple example of a fractured element that is too obvious to be ignored or blinded. The director's brief appearances do not fit into the narrative order of the film – in fact this emphasis is not only a fractured detail, but also (so to speak) very directly and clearly points out the cause of the consequences: only the technology in filmmaking allows the director to appear in his own film, and in any case, the result of these examples is humor, not at all like the "difficult reality" that Bart encountered.

While our attention is focused on the image stream, it may also be helpful for sound (and later music). A similar soundtrack to Hitchcock's cameo is the sound that appears "outside the narrative" in many Godard films— such as the seagull sound in Carmen (1982). The Paris street scene, the night traffic, the camera was originally the usual reality, and the sound of the seagulls became fractal, but in this film, unlike Hitchcock's cameo films, these sounds (and sometimes their source images) appear from beginning to end, eventually gaining the status of thematic meaning and stimulating interpretation.

The film, based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, contains many elements that seem to be frustrating, either creating breaks in the visual order (like frequent speech, rapid screen background activity) or a concise narrative (like some realistic descriptions, shots of hesitation between characters' thoughts and dreams). For example, opening or foreshadowing shots that use a complex background to describe the chaos of Bennett's house, music is also involved in still moments. The film begins with two lines of text ("Launched by Focus Company", "In Conjunction with Canal Studio"), superimposed attractions; birds chirping in the soundtrack, and two other lines ("Produced by the Tentative Name Company", followed by the film title "Pride and Prejudice"), which disappear as the music plays, and the music enters the traditional non-narrative passages as the background to the title. Piano music and natural (animal) sounds continue through a series of shots, with one of the daughters of the family, Elizabeth (Kayla Knightley), walking through the yard and into the house, where music and animal noises work together as a mixing foreshadowing, accompanied by film dubbing narrowed from outdoors to indoors. We were inside the house and saw another daughter, Mary, playing the piano, and the music advancing from non-narrative to narrative. The camera pauses for a moment, the camera (viewing Mary from the back and opposite rooms) before continuing with the initial introduction of the Bennet family. When photography stops and the image is stationary, the relationship between the primary and secondary plots is blurred. The eldest daughter, Jane, walked up to Mary's front, and the family pet, a Scottish deer hound, ran past Jane, barked into the room, overtook Mary, and then stopped and looked through the door on the left to look out into the world. The two little sisters (Katie and Lydia) 10 kept running in and out, and the puppy ran back to the room, sneaked away from Mary, and then ran in the direction of the camera, gasping for breath, and then disappeared from the picture. Throughout the picture, Mary is basically stationary except for her arm playing movements. This static effect is due to the fact that the camera is fixed to Mary from the beginning, to continue to focus on her and slowly advance, until finally as the puppy leaves, causing a breaking motion. 11

This shot, which seems to be filled with all kinds of innocuous visual information and plots, conveys a lot of information, and several themes unfold at the same time: the puppy is obviously the pet of the family, which is different from the domestic animals, the livestock roam freely around the house, and the puppies are "members of the family", for a vibrant and competitive social environment, this set of shots constitutes a warm and human element. Although the Bennett family is very rudimentary inside and out, the puppy marks the status and relative wealth of the family (Golda 2006); the distance and angle of the frame and the camera remind the audience of seventeenth-century Dutch family and interior painting. The unfortunate Mary (the talented woman in the family) is not only associated with music, but also has the lowest social status in the family, even lower than that of her sisters Katie and Lydia (only the last two seconds of the shot emphasize Mary's isolation: after the messy movement, as at the beginning of the shot, she is still sitting at the piano). )12

Still image: When the music "stops"

Still images in film create accents that can be labeled as time-spanning (shots can be unconventionally lengthened, like Mary's shot at the beginning of Pride and Prejudice). In the classic film noir Laura (1944), there is a similar scene of contrast between the primary and secondary focal points, but in this film the relationship is reversed: the secondary elements or background (a painting) are pale and feeble, while the foreground is active, maintaining a tension between them. Detective McPherson (Dana Andrews) searches in vain for clues in Laura's apartment; he pours a glass of wine, turns around, and walks toward a large-frame portrait that can be seen through the upper-left screen. 13 He moved slightly, took a few steps, sat down in his chair, and the camera froze. When McPherson drank, looked down, lowered his glass, stared ahead, and finally turned and looked up at the portrait, the painting was still visible for twenty-seven seconds. The camera switches to McPherson, who is already asleep, and the relatively slow movement of the lens allows the painting to extend to full screen again, and then the camera freezes when we hear the sound of the door opening outside the frame. Four seconds later, the camera switches to Laura (Gene Tierney) as she just enters the apartment. The two paused images (like McPherson sitting down and falling asleep) are frustrating simply because they stop moving (or, because McPherson is still active in other parts of the frame, they compete with each other, so plot precedence becomes an issue). In any case, in the relentlessly efficient classic Hollywood narrative, the obvious frugal elements cannot be alone: instead, the juxtaposition of (unexpectedly) realistic images of women is the most impressive moment in the film.

In The Girl with the Pearl Earrings, two other examples of fixed images that impress people can be found, in which painting is more clearly related to the narrative. The clear turning point in the film's narrative is the mysterious parcel, which contains a coffin-like box, which turned out to be a slide projector, and even then, the slide projector was already a device of great use to the painter. When Vermeer (Colin Firth) invites the maid Gretel (Scarlett Johansson) to see the device, he realizes the shift in Grace's body posture, from a servant to someone he considers to have aesthetic visual instincts, from the girl who cleans the studio for him to his informal assistant (after he asks her to mix paint for him). As they looked through the device, Vermeer asked Gretel what she saw, and she told him she saw a painting and how it had been installed there.

As we noted at the beginning of this article, this strange mixture of invariance and transience—or, as Schlossmann calls the "unusual interchange between rapid disappearance and perpetual preservation," continued to reverberate throughout the centuries that "these images were successfully preserved in photography, but could not be ruled out of the ghostly qualities in them (Schlossman 1997:79), and it was this ghostly quality that fascinated and annoyed Barth, which led to his "theory of the impossibility."" That is, to replace "darkness" with the ghostly loneliness of "light", that is, to tame the image into a piece of glass, tin or paper (and thus into a commodity). 14 The Girl with the Pearl Earrings tries something similar to the "impossible" at the last minute: the unstoppable movement at the end of the film, so that the still image is restored. Indeed, more can be tried: not only can still images be restored, but also the form of painting. This image is still within the frame, but the lens—the motion of the film itself (as a series of individual images)—is replaced by the details of the image touched by the wandering of the eye. This is not an easy achievement – because of the cognitive habit of film appreciation, even the still lens will move slightly (in the early days, the inevitable shaking of the projector was quite noticeable; today to avoid static lenses, the standard practice is to pan or zoom out and zoom out). In The Girl with the Pearl Earrings, there is only one real still shot, which invests considerable cost in duration and intense focus: in the final shot, Gretel receives a pair of pearl earrings, like the one she wore with Vermeer. She clutched the pearl earrings tightly in her hand, and the lens faded away, turning into a very close shot of the painting, close enough to see the cracks in the paint. The pearl earrings in the painting become the center of focus, and the lens slowly pulls away, a zoom lens that is surprisingly long for seventy-six seconds, and then the still image of the painting (without zooming) lasts another fourteen seconds.

There is precedent for this ninety-second stillness, when Gretel sits as a model for the painting, and the stillness stands out and is effective in the narrative. As the shot begins, Vermeer looks around from the front of the easel and says, "Look at me," and the camera switches to Gretel, who sits on a stool with a huge dark background behind her, and she poses for a few seconds to draw. The music joins in, the focal length of the photography advances at a slower pace, and we can hear Vermeer swinging the pen several times. After thirteen seconds, the camera stops advancing, and for another eleven seconds, the image stays in a way that mimics the picture. The music runs through these twenty-four seconds, and because the camera focuses on Gretel, the music can easily be seen as her consciousness (or "internal narrative sound" (Bordwell and Thompson 2003: 368), that is, as an auditory expression of emotion. 15 This piece of music has two different components: one is a dark, deeply emotional fixed tone, played in a series (cello, bass). Above this is the quiet, repetitive percussion sound, gradually becoming louder (though not very loud). At the end of the zoom lens, the bass gradually subsides and stops, leaving only a rhythmic sound to continue, and another percussion sound is added, sounding like a distant wind chime, or the sound of a glass jingling. The fractured quality of the music is confusing, the camera switches rather unexpectedly to the next scene (i.e., Greta pulls his fiancé out of a noisy bar and initiates sex with him on the street), and the appearance of stringed instruments may be treated as a solemn, high-cultural, aesthetic treatment of the scene in front of them. 16 Drums sound as a sign of sexual tension, and in the next shot Gretel's fiancé replaces the object of her desire.

As another element that emerges and participates in a theoretical architecture, the oppositions and synthesis described earlier in this article can be expressed in the following table:

As a synthesis of "critical reading"

Order-readership-intellectual-motion

Tearing—Author's Expression—Sting Point—Still

Initially, we wanted to consider using music (broader, or sound) as another set of relationships that could be fleshed out with the above icons in the form of a Gremmas matrix, with the aim of making the combination/negation of the music conform to our original term group. 17 On the different material (Barthes's "qualitative") level, image and sound are an opposition in film, but the latter does not deny the former (that is, sound cannot be "non-image"). Similarly, opposing images/sounds are difficult to reconcile with the chart above: because the images themselves are in motion, the compound term "order-reader-intellectual-motion" works on both sound and image. This statement still requires careful consideration for speech or sound (natural sounds rather than speech), but it is more suitable for analyzing music.

So we have to ask, how do we put music into the glossary: "fracture - authorship - thorn point - still"? How to understand the "stillness" of music? In the model scene in The Girl with the Pearl Earrings, a simple auditory opposition does this quite well: the sound of a percussion instrument, though highly repetitive, has a purpose (increased volume, percussion pushed forward after the melody stops, and subsequent rhythmic correlation of the shot), which strings cannot do (at least in the weakest or ineffective way). In comparison, the string becomes static: it "stops". Saying this is not that the movement has really stopped, but that it is like a single musical note or chord that continues to change in volume and sound quality. The difference is that this is an interrupting effect that minimizes directionality. 18

Moreover, this "stillness" is not intended to negate the traditional effects of music, but rather serves as a special example of such effects. The hypothesis that music influences the response of emotions to images has been experimentally demonstrated (Cohen 2000; Boltz 2004), but music not only "gives the viewer a biased interpretation and then remembers the scenes in the film that correspond to the emotions, it also contributes to a structure in which the movement of the lens is synthesized with the connected structure, which points the way to perception and attention, and thus affects understanding and memory" (Boltz 2004: 1195). In such an architecture, music and imagery must interact and influence each other. Compared to typical sound films, there is a need to enhance the connection with each other to a greater extent.

Static Fantasy: Images, music, dance in Pride and Prejudice

The third type of interaction between order and rupture—the fantasy", or montage—is the most abstract, making the treatment of individual factors difficult to predict. There are indeed traditional forms: montages always use (non-narrative) music; while lights, lenses, focal lengths, and speed of motion can be distorted individually or in combination (usually slowed down and moderated); narrative time may be compressed or slowed down; and shots represent individual dreams or reverie. In all these approaches, in cinematic space, the image stream and the audio track together adapt to the characteristics of film music, but narrative and non-narrative music may be placed in opposition, and the line between them can be changed (Gorbman 1987: 22). Therefore, their functional range is actually quite broad (and the effect is also more complex) compared to simple oppositions. Because of the abstract level, we no longer talk about the direct relationship between music and image, which are guided by their self-description function (the narrative construction in the audience's short-term memory relies in part on the generic habits maintained in long-term memory) (Scholes 1982:62; Boltz 2004:1201-02). On a direct level, music and image must move together, or somehow counter the typical "realistic" time stream of the simplest narrative diachronic analysis (this coordination enables what Bolts calls the "interactive confirmation" of valid information (2004:1202)). On a more abstract level, the function of these scenes is also very different: they are fractured. The reason is the same, because it is beneficial to diachronic.

From the many possible choices in the new film Pride and Prejudice, this article selects four sets of fantasy shots to analyze. Each of these groups contains different types of plots and actions, with different ways of expressing them at both the direct and abstract levels of the image's association with music. These four groups are as follows:

1. Elizabeth and Darcy dancing in Nigerfi

2. Elizabeth rotates with the seasons on a swing

3. Elizabeth reads Darcy's letter (after she first rejected him)

4. Sculpture room at Pemberley Manor

The first scene: a prominent narrative violation, Elizabeth and Darcy dancing at the Nigerfi Ball, which also constitutes the first fantasy scene in the film, which has a more or less systematic rupture in the physical world of the film. A fragment of the ball, 19 depicts three balls; the second ball, Darcy, invites Elizabeth to dance. Elizabeth herself was surprised to accept it (that night ball in Merleton's community auditorium, where she hated Darcy's rude arrogance). In the foreground of the English "long dance", Elizabeth and Darcy are seen talking awkwardly. The visual and auditory cues are subtle but harmonious: attentive viewers will notice that the other dancers, almost all of them falling in the background, their images are hypofocused (or slightly hypofocused), and no one speaks (despite the fact that dancing conversation is normal, as Elizabeth told Darcy). When they stopped on the dance floor to start speaking, they were once again highlighted and separated from the other dancers, behind them and around them, and the dance continued. The other dancers then disappear completely from the camera, and the effect is pushed to the extreme: Elizabeth and Darcy continue to dance in the empty room.

Darcy and Elizabeth's physical contact between the balls further reinforced this sense of isolation. At the beginning of the dance, Elizabeth and Darcy held hands and touched each other frequently with their steps. The moment they stopped completely, when facing each other, they were separated, and they stood, not touching each other. When they started dancing again, they still didn't touch each other. Finally, as the others disappear from the camera, Darcy only briefly raises Elizabeth's hand in one dance pose, and then in the rest of the dance, they never touch each other again, just surround each other, avoiding any physical contact, and showing inconsistencies with each other.

Elizabeth and Darcy's conversation is crucial in the narrative: it was their first private conversation and the attraction between the sexes began, and the rejection relationship between them was also foreshadowed in some of the previous scenes. 20 For this reason, the prom is also described in the novel as an important key. 21 In order to highlight the significance of the prom, the music is very different in style and instrumentation from the music at the Merriton and Nigerfi balls. First, a solo violin (at least the beginning) was used, unlike in other cases; 22 second, the music of this time was the only ready-made piece of music in this film, the Abdelazer of Pucelle, who was familiar to the audience because it was the theme song that Britton had chosen as the Guide to the Young Orchestra; third, it was the only dance piece, "invaded" by non-narrative orchestral music (intrusion a few times, But it's used a lot by the end; in the end, it's the only dance that beats three beats at medium speed. 23

So, just as the dialogue belongs only to Elizabeth and Darcy, so music applies only to both of them. As the emotional relationship between them developed, more and more instrumental sounds were added until the entire symphony band joined in. The combination of 24 music (sound) and dance (video) also promotes the harmony between image and sound very well. When Elizabeth confronted Darcy, they suddenly stopped dancing, confronted, argued about the film time for thirteen seconds, and then resumed dancing, which continued only for three or four seconds, and the others suddenly disappeared, immersed in their own world, only dancing without words, captured by each other's eyes for twenty-five seconds. After that, it suddenly returned to the normal narrative, they bowed to each other, and then the dance ended.

As a result, the series of cues at the beginning of the shot is very subtle, but evolves towards a natural break of certainty in time and space. At this narrative level, the effect achieved is similar to ironic contrast (or sound/music is clearly mismatched with the image), which "often seems to enable the viewer to obtain vivid memories of the film's information" (Boltz 2004: 1203). Apparently, this scene is intentionally remembered and isolated from its surroundings and the diachronic narrative stream of the film up to this point.

Second scene: Another characteristic moment in the film adaptation of this novel is the charming metamorphosis of the typical "time-lapse" montage: Elizabeth sits on a swing, slowly rotating with the changing seasons. This time span in the novel—the winter after the Nigerfi Ball—is a trough: the ball itself is awkward, with Elizabeth's confidant, her sister Jane, and Bingley's group all leaving, and the camera takes her friend Charlotte as the eye. At the beginning of the scene, she yells at Elizabeth, "Don't judge me! (Because she decided to accept a special suitor). Elizabeth was taken aback, and after Charlotte left, Elizabeth reflected alone. With the autumn harvest, the winter rains, and the early spring flashing through her eyes again, Elizabeth pondered the changes in her life. When spring came and the scene ended, the Charlotte family invited her to be a guest, and she seemed grateful for the opportunity.

The entire scene has musical accompaniment, classic montage techniques, what Sion calls "Homogenizing Bath", covering all time intervals, and the apparent discontinuities caused by editing (1994:47). 25 This melody, which has been linked to Elizabeth, begins with an extremely long shot showing her walking to Nigerfeld, and then at the end of the ball with a very sad reverie. But as the girls prepare to go to the prom, the music prominently uses a form of "tempo" that takes place. Following the classic montage, the music covers the moment elizabeth arrives at Charlotte's house, and then the process of speaking disappears. Paradoxically, static and montage time advances a very similar fracture effect: each side "dials the other out of time", from the "realistic" expectations of the constant flow of linear time. But the scene is further complicated by the addition of another layer of sound: although the music changes very little throughout the scene, we see the winter rain and also hear the voiceover elizabeth reading a letter to Charlotte. Now the narrative has a clear direction, and it has taken precedence: Elizabeth decides to visit Charlotte, and she tells Charlotte what has happened since she left, and what we see is that she goes to Charlotte's house and sees Charlotte and Elizabeth's reconciled embrace. Thus, time works on three levels in this scene: (1) the direct experience of Elizabeth's fantasies; (2) the tidbits of the changing seasons in the background; and (3) the reading of letters that apparently cannot be reconciled with the time of the vague fantasies. This layered temporal design is important for other scenes in the film, as can be seen in the analysis below.

Third scene: The last two fantasy scenes to be discussed here are many elements intertwined, which reflect the historical continuation of the film's realism. The first set of scenes mixes the classic editing style of the passage of time. Elizabeth, still a guest at Charlotte's house, recalls Darcy's disastrous first marriage proposal and fantasizes that Darcy could write to explain at any time. Elizabeth got up aimlessly early that morning, sat down on the bed, and walked across the living room, flipping through the books that had been thrown on the table. She put the book down, stood up and looked out the window, turning to look at herself in the mirror. As she stood still, the light from the window flowed in and shone to her right, and then the day turned into night, and the light shifted direction. The room darkened and the view was like a dream. On the long melody of the cello, Darcy's voice sounded. Darcy appeared behind Elizabeth and handed her a letter. Elizabeth was unresponsive to his presence, and from the window Darcy could be seen riding away, the music continuing as before, and when Charlotte suddenly appeared, dressed in daytime clothes, and spoke, the music was abruptly interrupted before it had finished. 26

Thus, the passage is interwoven with four temporal threads: the clip compresses the temporal flow of Elizabeth's fantasies; the diachronic sequence of Darcy's words and actions27; the non-presence time implied by Elizabeth's reading of Darcy's letter; and the "real" narrative time formed by Charlotte's appearance and questioning Elizabeth. The foreground is Elizabeth in the mirror, still, while the background is herself and the imaginary images and normal narrative time and events. The music is played for the foreground, which controls the scene and draws our attention to the main scene, Elizabeth mobilizes herself from the surrounding environment, her eyes do not look at anything, her posture and thinking are inward. The images in her fantasies (i.e., Darcy) and the reality in the narrative recede into the background, and the ironic reasons are by no means obvious. Therefore, it cannot be said that this scene was completely successful (although the previous "swing scene" already foreshadowed this time overlap). In any case, this "letter" scene stands out and is especially meaningful for our analysis, because it pulls in all three order/fracture modes: i.e. fracture background, still image, classic editing.

The fourth scene: The scene examined in the last article has received many reviews in publications and on the Internet, as well as some criticism.28 The scene where Elizabeth arrives at the West house with her uncle and aunt and enters the "sculpture room". This article discusses this scenario primarily because it is another variation of the background/foreground interaction. But we should point out that the fantasy scenes in Pride and Prejudice, such as Elizabeth's reverie, are actually an extension and development of the character's perspective. Non-narrative music enters early, and as this group of people crosses the wide hall toward the sculpture room, and continues after the room scene, Elizabeth walks alone to the living room or study next door. 29 In the sculpture room, when Mrs. Reynolds (housekeeper and guide) speaks to the visitor, Elizabeth retreats, the voice moves to the background, echoes, and fades out—Elizabeth enters the reverie again.

In other words, this scene is more traditional than the "letter" scene, the volume and sound quality of the audio track also strengthen the isolation from the image stream, 30 is more linear and harmonious than the "letter" segment and the "swing" segment of the music, in order to achieve this effect, it requires several elements to combine: the rhythm is consistently kept slow; the music is slower when the clues move forward; the piano section at the beginning is similar to the piano song in the previous narrative, but the rhythm is slower, and the music in the first half is almost constantly repeated in the second half. But in at least two places the phrases have been lengthened, and the intervening rest has been prolonged.

Conclusion: Mediated music

Nichdas Pagan, who discussed the multi-musical performance of the film Tous les Matins du monde (1991), wrote: "We are beginning to understand the intermediary of cinema, which is particularly suited to expressing the visual and auditory aspects of listening to music and playing music" (2003:35). In this article, we proposed that images and music can be based on the motion conditions of linear time, and "interoperability" can be more in-depth. To illustrate this point, this article points out the parallel difficulties posed by still motion: the cinematographic image attempts to return to photography, and the music attempts to slow down to a pseudo-stillness. We realize that neither of these two can actually succeed (otherwise the two intermediaries will die), but we can still see that the combination of the two in sound films can affect this attempt. Applying Barth's theory of the know-faced/piercing point (roughly the order and fracture) to photography and motion imagery, the text discusses three special (less common but characteristic) scenes of sound films: (1) foreground and rear scenes; (2) still images; and (3) fantasy scenes.

exegesis:

1. See Connolly and Phillips' 2002 useful summary of the concept of multimedia symbols.

2. We essentially take a practical view of music related to images. Thus, our view is closer to that of Abart, who acknowledges her claim of "the nature of the visual and logocentric" and argues that "music is related to the visual world, that it is in a state of unsolved conformity to language and writing, as it is to culture or society" (2004, 524), and farther from Cramer's view, he attributes music to "description" and "full attraction" (Cramer 2000: 179; Rodman cites below).

3. Robert Scholes puts it this way: "In dealing with published novels, the reader's narrative process is primarily visual. This is what the reader must provide for the printed text. But in the film narrative, the audience must provide a larger scope, a more abstract narrative. This is one reason why film criticism is more interesting than text criticism. A well-made film requires interpretation, yet a well-written novel may only require understanding. ”

Or, more broadly, the necessity of "avoiding the Doxa" as described by Barbara Hirsch (1987:104). Augustino Pontzio commented that Barte's "interest in semiotics, literature and the new novel coincides with his critique of mass cultural consciousness" (2001: 158). Michael Fred describes the book's impact in the following words: "Since the moment it appeared, it has become a major reference for writers to photography... Barth in... The main distinction between the intellectual face and the thorn point was enthusiastically followed by countless criticisms and theories, and he found the main difference between them almost without exception... This difference lies in the interest of the average viewer in the general basic thematic hypothesis ... The appeal that a photo can imply... The subjective feelings of a particular viewer in a way that makes this photograph particularly meaningful to that viewer. ”(2005:539)

5. Allen further describes this: "The thorn in the photograph, which disturbs the meaning and generation of the image, for the individual viewer of the image, this ecstasy of reversible meaning, is outside the communication between science and fundamental theory" (2003: 127). Nikkor's statement is similar to this: "The difference between the face of the knower and the point of the thorn ... There is a clear similarity with Balte's exposition in The Pleasure of The Text... Between these two reading reactions—one is pleasure, the pleasure of overall comprehension and participation; the other is ecstasy, excess, enjoyment of distress, shock, uneasiness, or "torture" (2000:234).

6. Most observers note that the writing of the Chamber of Light is part of Bart's painful process of recalling the death of his mother, who was very close to him during his life. See Nikkor 2000; Schlossman; Allen 2003: 125-32; Stafford 1998: 214.

See also Mick Barr's summary of the thorn in denial (2001:74).

8. It should be made clear that the hypothetical narrative meaning here as a way of posing the problem is much simpler than the narrative and narrative in Mick Barr's iconotics of imagery (Barthes 2001).

9. Barthes proposes this combination of terms and declares: "Even between these [photographs], in my opinion, they exist, but most of them evoke only universal, so-called 'elegant' interest: there are no thorns in them: these photographs make me like or dislike, they do not sting me: they are only concerned with the face." ”

10. In this way, the five sisters in the opening scene are casually introduced to us.

11. The puppy was the last element that contributed to the production of the opening scene. During the indoor shooting, the sound outside the door was inaudible — only the sound of puppies could be heard — but as the camera advanced, the noise of the livestock became louder, and then the eyes turned to the servant feeding the geese at the front door. The puppies ran towards them, startling them, and then they complained of the sound of horns driving the puppies away. After a while, the horns disappeared and the animal sounds disappeared as the camera advanced through the window to Mr. Bennett's study, where we heard the first piece of dialogue, which was the traditional end signal of the opening shot.

For Barthes, listening (especially listening to music) evokes "the evolution of the temporal-spatial situation" and inevitably retreats to a "confined view" (1991:246-47; Cited by Pagan 1985:36). Barthes further elaborated that invading an actor's auditory space foreshadowed "the meaning of those lives... Recognize its limitations" (247; Pagan 1985: 36 cited). In this shot, Mary's space is constantly invaded—Jane, Katie, Lydia, and the puppy. The director was clearly imagining Austen's depiction of Mary in a universally unmoving way, using two extra details: the piano, not an instrument in background music, the sound was unpleasant and out of tune, and Mary played only a few scales, not the melody of the background music.

13. Barthes discusses this shift from photography to painting in "The Rhetoric of Imagery."

14. "It is madness, and to this day nothing but the middleman can convince me of what has happened in the past; but photograph, which I believe is direct: no one in the world can keep me from being deceived." Photograph becomes a strange medium, a form of illusion: an illusion on the level of perception, a reality on the level of time: an illusion of the present world, so to speak... Crazy images haunted by reality. (Barthes 1981:47).

15. The Hind uses a popular term , " inner tone " , to indicate sounds inside the body , such as heartbeats , fantasies , sounds of remembrance , or speech ( 1994: 74 ) . It can be further said that the music expresses a special emotional role and can therefore also be regarded as an "inner tone".

16. An additional element may be that Gretel is undoubtedly concerned about Vermedos's gloomy personality.

17. We do not have time to implement Simon's 1996 interesting advice on the analysis of Gremas film music, or even from the relationship between film music and musical semiotics in general, as Tarsty, Lidov, Cumming, and Harten (1994: 2004) have addressed this issue from different angles.

18. Although the final shot of the film (which gradually shows Vermeer's paintings through slow zoom) is quietly displayed, it is not static to the accompaniment of music; on the contrary, it proceeds in parallel with the unfolding of the paintings. The music, starting from the smallest amount, gradually becomes full, the instruments and melodies are added, and the volume becomes larger and larger as the painting appears. In other words, music seduces the viewer to interpret and experience the unfolding picture.

19. Chapter XVIII, which contains all the events that took place at the Nyzhphile Ball, is also the longest chapter in the book, especially in the first half of the book much longer than the others.

20. The strongest previous hint comes from Elizabeth's visit to The Sick Jane in Nigerfeld. She had messy hair and walked into the house, which made Darcy realize the main factor in her attractiveness. The film also shows Darcy's panic and uneasiness after Caroline and Elizabeth "turn around in the house". In the novel, there is also a passage in Which, in Nigerfeld, Darcy deliberately avoids her, because he feels Elizabeth's attraction and is therefore a little flustered.

21. Two recent doctoral dissertations have been feminist interpretations of the dance function in Austen's novels (including Pride and Prejudice): Engelhardt 2002, 45-80; Wilson 2005.

22. Psell's Whirling is designed from a simple five-part design, ABACA, with eight bars per phrase. These elements are assigned according to the following film cues: A, with only 7-8 bars; A; A with the addition of some reduced bars; B with the addition of string ensembles in the last four bars; A with 7-8 string ensemble bars; A with only 1-2 string ensemble bars; C with all string bars but finally (without Pussell's bass number); A with strings throughout;B with strings throughout (but without Psell's bass number).

23. In itself, this is credible, like the eighteenth-century English group dances (unlike the French pair dances derived from them), which use many forms of music according to the degree of familiarity of the dancers or the preference of the group, and basically change temporarily according to the degree of familiarity of the dancers or the preference for music (Burford and Daye 2006).

24. On the film Music CD (Deca 2005), the music for this scene is Track 8, "Postcard to Henry Purcell".

25. In the film music CD, the music for this scene is track 12, "Fantasy of Private Life." ”

26. In the film music CD, the music for this scene is track 13," Darcy's letter. (from 0:34 to the end).

27. This seems reasonable, and what drives her reverie is her memory of Darcy, from the time he steps into the house, approaches the room, and rides away—all from the earlier shot of Darcy suddenly inviting Elizabeth at Charlotte's house and then cringing back.

28. Criticism published on Internet fan sites focused on the surrealist (or unrealistic) character of the room, as well as the background setting different from that depicted in the novel (a portrait gallery in the novel), and also about the inauthenticity of the apparent sexual factor (Elizabeth stared at the male genitalia in the statue, and as the camera slowly pushed toward it, when looking at her from behind, she was shown standing behind an arched female nude, and then looked at her from the side, with the same hairstyle as the statue).

29. In the film Music CD, the music for this scene is Track 3, "A realistic sculpture of Pemberley Manor." ”

30. Although we have only discussed the sculpture room, one might think that this reverie is a dream within the background of Elizabeth's awe of the opulence of the house itself ("unbelievable"), and this interpretation makes sense, and at first Elizabeth's posture and demeanor, and the arrangement of the scenes below, support this interpretation, and once the music is played, she and Gardner enter the house, and then she finds herself alone in the sculpture room, and then walks toward the study or the living room, at the moment when she turns around and looks out the window The music stops, and the window view once again shows the viewer the real world outside the house.

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David Neumeyer Laura Neumeyer | Motion and Stillness: Photography, "Shadow Play", Music

This article is from "Music, Media, Symbols - A Collection of Musical Semiotics", Sichuan Education Publishing House, June 2012, with deletions.

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