I'm wearing a silly little grin on my face because my name showed up in your blog. Incidentally, two films came to my mind as you wrote about exploring the transparency of illusion.

Orson Welles' "F for Fake."

Also, one I saw recently that treated that idea in an even more intimate way was a film that you may have seen at SXSW, "Four-Eyed Monsters." Did you happen to catch it?

I won't give it away, but what fascinated me and even brought tears to my eyes was when I (the audience) actually became more involved with the film when they lifted the veil of illusion and allowed me to see the studs and beams of the process.

I initially thought that Four Eyed Monster was the best narrative film I saw at SXSW - since then, my opinions have settled and shifted slightly, but I agree with you completely about the moment the fourth wall comes crashing down; it was exhilerating.

Nick doth quoth: Today’s media deconstructs itself...we must create videos and texts that demand to be answered by theory.

Dvd doth quoth: Indeed, we must, but how?

Why *must* we? That's a pretty big conclusion to draw. I know Nick has argued it, but I'd like to know why you agree with him.

As you say, theory should be a tool - but what happens when you focus so much on theory that you forget about story? Personally, I go to the cinema to see a good story - not to see theory in motion.

[This is as much a warning ot myself as to others]

Well, if you focus so much on theory that you forget about story - you eventually end up with strips of film mounted on a wall, as per my example. I don't demand a story when I see a film; and my definition of narrative is necessarily loose (I'm the kind of person who might find an entire history told in a close up of a person's face, and be immensely satisfied with that), but I do, certainly, value storytelling over theory unto itself.

And as for why we 'must' create such works whose layers can be peeled away by the academics - well, that's just another way of wording a call to create lasting works of substance, isn't it? And, taking Nick's perspective into consideration, to challenge ourselves to challenge others, even in a culture that adapts to such challenges faster than it ever has before?

"I don't demand a story when I see a film"

Nor do I. But its about context. I don't demand a story when I'm reading, say, a Statute [to use an extreme example] but I do demand a story when I'm reading a novel. But how many people read Statutes casually?

It has been said that the writing at its heart is about storytelling, regardless of context. In many ways that is true, whether you are talking about legislation, computer code, or e-mails to your boss :)

Of course, we then need to define what exactly we mean by 'story' (and how this is different from narrative).

"And as for why we 'must' create such works whose layers can be peeled away by the academics - well, that's just another way of wording a call to create lasting works of substance, isn't it?"

Nope. Because I don't think it follows that academic recognition == work of substance.

Regarding that last part - the key word was 'lasting,' not 'substance.'

Is it even possible to write a novel without a story, proper or improper? One could try, but any chance of success would likely be dashed by the audience, who would find one regardless. - because, as you suggest, storytelling can be seen as the heart of writing, whether intentional or not. Sort of the same way it can be said that we manage to anthropomorphize everything we see.

And just for the record, since you brought it up, I was using story and narrative as interchangeable terms in this post , as indeed they can be - but of course narrative has the additional definitive properties pertaining to style and form that 'story' (limited merely to content) does not.

As usual, you make your point rather saliently with a minimum of pretension.

I know this is sort of late to be posting to this discussion, but I just wanted to add that maybe all films (could apply this to things other than films, like novels, buildings, etc.) are theoretical insomuch as they are made by people who--on some level--understand and have mastered the theories that give rise to them. So many filmmakers today have been raised during a time when all the usual master narratives have been thoroughly deconstructed: whether we intend it or not, isn't all our work on some level shot-through with this self-awareness?

I teach with a colleague here at UDM who says no, that if anything, digital technology today--because it operates at a level of complexity that most people can't understand--blinds us to ever-deeper narratives about power, surveillance, etc. His view is that students still could benefit from reading theory that demysitifies the deep logic of digital artifacts. But I wonder if digital artifacts already come deconstructed: our era of "bonus" materials tends to take apart the mystical process of filmmaking.

Do we still have any cinematic myths today (i.e., the star, the director, etc.) and if we don't, what value is there in theory?

In answer to your first question: I'd say the answer is yes, definitely. I think that's a major reason why one needn't consciously consider theory when making their film.

As for cinematic myths personified: while I don't know that we have any at the moment on a grand scale (and likely never will again), those filmmakers (and actors) who approximate mythic status amongst cinephiles are often the ones who are least disclosive. I'm thinking of Lynch here, of course - but on the other hand, Spielberg is in his company in refusing to do commentary tracks, whereas Altman seems to revel (and excel) in them; so perhaps it's not the best example.

Nonetheless, I'd there's a certain level of filmmaking at which theory is instantly validated by the film itself, and this requires a certain dedication to the craft by the director. Other more commercial filmmakers create works that can be discussed theoretically but with greater difficulty, and others still make films that can scarcely be mentioned seriously outside the context of cultural zeitgeist. The sliding scale of usual suspects fit the first category, whereas someone like Joe Dante, whose current work would probably go unsubstantiated were it not for the curious affection Jonathan Rosenbaum shows it, might be considered an example of the second. The third - well, that's reserved for pretty much every lousy movie that's come out this summer that isn't directed by guys named George or Steven.