I remembered listening to a short talk by Slavoj Žižek on Channel 4 last year, in which he discussed (very briefly) Charlie Chaplin’s film, The Great Dictator. Although the image of a dictator was unambiguously drawn on Hitler, the *true* dictator, metaphorically speaking, was the sound. Chaplin manipulated this comparison by alternating scenes with a silent Jewish barber with those with a hysterical quasi-Nazi leader, thus showing us the potential, but also the drawbacks, of using and hearing a person’s voice.
The drawback is not in the possibility of an actor having a weird voice, which may not fit their appearance or character. The drawback of a sound movie is in that it minimises the dramatic effect. Some will certainly argue otherwise, and it is indeed almost impossible to imagine, say, Kieslowski’s trilogy, Trois Couleurs, without the use of sound (especially in Trois Couleurs: Bleu). But however helpful it may be, sound imposes on us not only a directorial vision, but also a specific vision of our own. We may begin, for instance, to associate a certain tone of voice with a particular type of character; or a certain type of music with a specific kind of films. Those who have seen Sophie Scholl – Die letzten Tage, and especially those who attended a Q&A session with Mark Rothemund at Cornerhouse in October 2005, will remember that some film critics thought the music theme in his film has reminded them of Jaws’ soundtrack. The conclusion is easy to draw.
But methinks sound is not the only disputable gain in the media and arts world. I love colour photography, but some scenes, I believe, are made to be captured on black-and-white film, or mastercoloured in sepia. At best, it can teach a viewer that such colours, as black and white, don’t really exist. It can also make familiar sites look unfamiliar and more dramatic. Last but not least, b/w and sepia photos allow the viewer to use their imagination, instead of restricting them to a specific shade of colour palette.
I do think it is important to lift up this restriction through colour and sound and to revert to one’s intellectual (directorial, perhaps?) effort in filling up a silent “monochrome” space with colours and sounds. Which is why I’ve found myself continuously taking b/w and sepia pictures in Manchester. Captured this way, they remind me of some Parisian endroits I’ve seen in books, on early daguerreotypes, and on the photos by Eugene Atget.
The first two pictures were taken last Sunday, when I was killing time, walking in Castlefield, between watching Manhattan and Eraserhead at Cornerhouse. The image on the left is the passage of the Town Hall extension, which has got an Italian air about it (again, as far as I am concerned).
Although I might have appeared as if I didn’t like the use of colour or sound, this is obviously not true. Sometimes colour is invaluable – like on the shot below. As I wrote in the picture’s description on Flickr, I haven’t watched the sunset for quite a long time. And when I finally got the chance this Thursday, I absolutely could not miss it.
