The World According to Miranda July - Research Paper Example

The World According to Miranda July To define an artist as a creative being--especially one so prolific and with a hand in a variety of mediums--is a daunting task. For anyone examining the works of Miranda July, the viewer is left with a curiosity about her life and the roots of her inspiration. This paper will discuss both the theoretical aspects of her career and touch on biographical milestones, as well as examine one of her primary films. There is no surprise Ms. July comes from a creative background. Born Miranda Jennifer Grossinger on February 15, 1974 to parents who wrote and ran their own small publishing press, she grew up in Berkeley, Calif., where her talents proved obvious from a young age. While she attended U.C. Santa Cruz only for a few years, her subsequent move to Portland, Oregon began the catalyst that would push her career forward and convince her to pursue her creative impulses as a career, whether in film, writing, performance art or music (Durbin 2005). Portland was an artist-friendly location where Ms. July could flourish and grow as a performance artist. In 1996, now an experimental filmmaker, she began a project called Joanie4Jackie as a way to inspire and showcase the works of female filmmakers, soliciting short films that would then be put on video tape and distributed as a cinematic chain letter (Wenclas 2010). She later created a second collection of submitted films called the Co-Star series. The Joanie4Jackie series would eventually find a larger audience through screenings at film festivals and DIY events. Her level of creative success and the productive nature of her portfolio would continue to grow. Why the newly defined focus on filmmaking? For Ms. July, the move was a natural progression as she matured creatively and understood that the power of film allows the author a unique means of expression that other creative mediums may lack. As she told an interviewer for Believer Magazine: I became really interested in how much I could show these hard-to-articulate, kind of magical or somewhat ephemeral things through really worldly, grounded ways. And it just seemed like this medium was good for that. (Horowitz 2005) Artistically preoccupied with the human condition, primarily the weight of loneliness and our desire to relieve that burden through some type of personal connection, Ms. July breathes life into the mundane. Always with a feminist’s sense of how to instigate and push us beyond the comfortable, her work can be both accessible and disorienting. Perhaps her most prominent influence is the filmmaker Agnes Varda, a realist and social commentator who also deals with feminist issues in a uniquely experimental way (Kaplan 2000). One can see the similarities, while each woman can attest to their own original approaches and strong creative sensibilities. Both filmmakers are known for wearing many hats--writer, director, actor and artist. One can see how Ms. July is influences by the veteran filmmaker: the selective use of metaphors and symbolism; the documentary realism found in their various works; and the focus on interpersonal relationships and the poetry of the human condition. The role of feminism and feminist theory shook loose the standard notions of women as represented in popular culture. The chains and expectations associated with being a woman were set free, and female artists lost little time expressing the feelings of pain, freedom, sexual awakening and a myriad of other emotions that were waiting to be revealed (Petro 2002, 12). Miranda July is a part of this great tradition, but there are unique challenges for her generation to address, such as the coldness and distance inherent in our obsession with technology and the very modern need to connect with our fellow humans in some meaningful manner. In many ways, according to writer Petrice Petro, the current crop of female filmmakers “shape and define the aftershocks of our own modernity” (ibid, 13). Ms. July’s work illustrates not only how cinema has been transformed by new technologies, but also, as film began to lose its power as a cultural force, how these changes have opened the once guarded door to new voices. Using the tools learned as a performance artist, she can embrace the more experimental aspects of cinema without limiting the audience’s need for true human emotions. For example, her video/live action performance piece called “Love Diamond” illustrates her ability to stir conflicting feelings in her audience. The story revolves around the character of Tini Santini, played by Ms. July, as she experiences a seemingly never-ending interrogation. As a video plays in the background of a genial professor, Ms. July holds the attention on stage, as her live action performance pulls together the conflicting aspects of anguish and humor. According to Karen Durbin in The New York Times, Ms. July’s work can display a “smart, eerie complexity.” This assessment can be verified by watching Ms. July’s film Me and You and Everyone We Know. Filled with idiosyncratic characters and quirky plot elements, the emotions are multi-layered and pure. The film is populated with people searching for meaning and a sense of human connection; this desire, however, knows no age requirement, as the scope of this need is evident from the youngest to the oldest. The critique of this film is a deep undertaking, but also a valuable lesson in the proper use of symbolism, the subtle cues found in good acting and experimental filmmaking. The film opens with wannabe artist Christine Jesperson (Ms. July) putting together a video of her various art samplings. Speaking into a microphone, Christine discusses the high-minded goals one should have in life, such as “Gonna be free, gonna be brave” and “Let’s live each day as if it were our last, courageously with grace.” Her character must wrestle with a variety of these dilemmas throughout the course of the movie. The character of Christine is trying to find her place in a sometimes sterile and unfeeling world. The viewer soon meets Richard, a shoe salesman trying to cope with the recent separation from his wife and the mother of his two sons. We quickly understand the dynamic of this faltering relationship; while helping Richard pack his things, his wife is humming as if undertaking a pleasant project. Richard, on the other hand, is upset and can’t quite believe how or why the separation is taking place. His sons--Peter, a gawky teenager and Robby, an adorable six year-old--are too preoccupied on the computer to talk to their father. In a rather innocent attempt to gain the attention of his family, Richard steps outside and douses his hand with lighter fluid--not realizing that, unlike alcohol, it will actually burn the skin. Lighting it on fire, his hand burns as he falls to the ground and tries to put out the flames. The hand--and its ultimate time of healing--will work as an important transition at the end of the movie. More of Christine’s recordings are interjected into the film, often working as a sort of narrative. Before we see Richard’s hand go up in flames, Christine states: “In the dark of night--and it will get dark.” This reminder of darkness works as a nice juxtaposition to the sight of fire/light in Richard’s front yard--which, of course, implies the depth in that moment of his own internal darkness. The film is dotted with these hints of symbolism, which come in a variety of forms--such as birds, the color pink and street signs. Soon, with his hand bandaged, Richard moves into a new apartment and tries to build a sense of community in his new neighborhood and maintain his professional routine at work. A driver for ElderCab, Christine comes in to look at shoes with her elderly client and friend. An interesting discussion ensues when Richard notices the sores on Christine’s ankles. Christine tells him that she just has low ankles that rub the top of her shoes. Richard tells her “You don’t deserve that pain.” Taken aback, Christine says “I don’t think I deserve it.” Richard quickly retorts: “Not consciously anyway.” This exchange, I feel, addresses the human tendency to inflict pain on ourselves without fully understanding why. (Richard, however, neglects to recognize that he just recently caused himself great pain by setting his own hand on fire.) Christine leaves the store the new owner of a pair of comfortable pink flats. The viewer can sense a growing connection between Christine and Richard. A pivotal scene involves a goldfish in a bag on top of a car. Driving home, Christine and her friend notice the doomed pet left on top of the new owner’s car; clearly, if the car stops the fish will fall to its death. Christine says some somber words for the soon-to-be-departed fish; before she is done, however, it gingerly falls onto the rear of another car. Relieved, her friend suggests that she pull in front of the car to steady its speed, stating “We’re all together on this.” Nonetheless, the fish falls off the car and splatters to the road. We see a blurred image of Christine’s face as the scene fades to black. Ms. July’s use of simple cinematic techniques allow the viewer to feel the realism of the story, whether through the use of ambient light and the depth of focus that brings an immediate touch (Malkiewicz et al 2005). The younger actors are poignant as they play characters primarily confused by the world around them. Richard’s sons find comfort in creating computerized pictures and communicating and “chatting” online with others dealing with their own loneliness and despair. Both boys are relatively innocent in how they approach sexual topics. Peter, the oldest, pronounces the word “bosom” incorrectly and young Robby will create his own scenario for a would-be suitor that is both humorous and disturbing. The sexual content of the film is not so much about physical pleasure, however, but physical and emotional connections. When two teenage girls each perform blowjobs on Peter, the intent is not to give any sort of sexual pleasure per se; the purpose is to show him their abilities so that he can judge who is best at the act itself. Sex is presented as a clinical operation, its ultimate goal being that important human connection--often times just out of reach. Another example of the primary need for a human connection would be the relationship between the two teenage girls and the older man who works with and lives next door to Richard. He is aroused by the presence of the two girls and they play the seduction game, knowing they can tease and manipulate his baser instincts. He is soon persuaded to post signs in his apartment window, each stating what would happen if all three were in bed. The girls are intrigued; but they are only totally convinced when he posts a note discussing how, following their various sexual adventures, they would all “sleep and sleep and sleep” together in the same bed. This encourages the girls to finally agree to accept his proposals, but he is too stunned and afraid to answer the door. Again, another connection is just missed; the opportunity to experience an intensely personal relationship has passed. A charmingly quirky scene occurs once Christine returns to the shoe department and follows Richard to his car. Their conversation back and forth is innocent and clever, marking the stops along the street as symbolic steps in their future relationship. When there is a moment of silence between them, one senses an uncomfortable pause, as if their repartee is a way to guard against getting too close. While the characters clearly wish to find that elusive human bond, that state of vulnerability can be scary and awkward. The two temporarily go their separate ways once they have reached the Stop sign at the end of the block. Richard, in particular, is reluctant to take their meeting further, while Christine is eager to see what their future holds and is not easily detoured. The following scene illustrates Ms. July’s ability to use objects as a conduit to connect people and force them to a common cause. While viewing Richard from afar at the makeup counter, the compact Christine is holding falls apart. He ventures over to help, touching the compact as she is holding it in her hands. The compact mirror could symbolize the ego and the breaking apart of our perceptions about our place in the world. It could also be a statement about the traditional role of women in film and the idea that women watch themselves being looked at, as if always looking in a mirror. Again, human contact is always just out of reach. Technology plays an important role throughout the film, both positive and negative. Whether as a means to express her art, the way in which computers propel a part of the story (and interfere with the phone connection during one harrowing scene) or the recording of “I love you” in a picture frame, mechanical items are things that keep us separated while also, just barely and without satisfaction, bringing us together. The image of a teenage daughter sitting outside her house with a friend while, through the window, the father sits motionless in front of a television screen works well as a clear representation of teenage isolation and angst. Toward the end of the film, Richard realizes that it is time to remove the bandage from his hand. Stating “It needs to do some living,” Richard takes his two sons out for a walk. While Ms. July’s dialogue is always simple and also layered, the silence in between the words is just as important. She allows her actors room to express the characters’ eccentric and disconnected habits, as well as maintain a realness that never reminds you that you are seeing actors act. Once his hand has healed--and in many ways, his past as well--Richard finally makes a lasting connection with Christine after more than a few attempts to push her away. The removal of the bandage can symbolize the healing of his emotional state, a new beginning that will help him be open to the possibility of new love. Both Richard and Christine place the framed picture of the bird up into the tree, her fingers gently brushing over his newly healed hand. In many ways, Richard is letting go of his past in this one simple gesture. The final scene in the film is perhaps the most unexpected and thought-provoking. As if in a dream, Richard’s youngest son Robby, dressed in his pajamas, is seen on a street corner. A man waiting for a bus is tapping a quarter on a nearby metal pole. Soon, the mysterious man turns and hands the quarter to Robby; he, in turn, begins to tap the quarter on the pole as the man. We hear the ting-ting of metal on metal as the full sun glows in the sky. The circular parallel of the quarter and the sun works as a nice visual to unite the two images. The sun, I feel, represents Robby’s future, while the quarter symbolizes his eventual induction into a life of mundane and meaningless tasks. Again, an object is used to connect two characters together; in fact, for Ms. July, an object can work as a valuable talisman to bring luck and strength. Robby continues to tap the quarter as if in a trance. The image fades out and the credits roll. We are left to ponder the meaning of this scene and its connection to the rest of the film. Is Ms. July saying that, despite our best efforts, we are eventually doomed to a life of convention? Is the ongoing struggle to find happiness and love a fruitless undertaking? Are we enslaved by the need to make money? Or does the quarter simply symbolize Robby’s transformation away from the innocence of childhood? The beauty of such an ending is that the viewer is left to wonder what is the meaning. Good films leave you thinking about what you have just seen; regardless of any criticism one could present regarding this film, the issue of stale storytelling is not one of them. By summarizing the film (which because of its layers and philosophical points is a difficult undertaking), the viewer can understand her main themes: human loneliness, the lack of connection in our technologically advanced world, the sexual curiosity present in children and the simple aspects of life that give us some level of meaning. She expresses her main themes by forcing her characters to deal with the problems they must face in order to make some sort of transformation--whether believing in love again or growing into an adult. The formal techniques she employs are subtle, allowing the actors and the story the power to speak to the audience. Her use of symbolism is never heavy-handed or showy; for example, when the goldfish falls off the car and crashes to the road, we are spared an overly dramatic slow motion scene showcasing its demise. Instead, Ms. July cuts to the human faces and the emotional aftermath of the unfortunate event. In Me and You and Everyone We Know, Ms. July’s female characters are objects of desire, but they defy the standard social construct regarding females in film. In some ways, she has turned the idea of the gaze around. Richard is, instead, the object to be seen and admired. Christine spots him as he works in the shoe department, unaware at first that he is being watched. She has taken on the man’s role of pursuing the desired object. The assumption of “men act and women appear” is also transformed into a new approach. Traditionally, in film and other mediums, the woman is something to win and possess. The physical beauty of the female subject is inextricably connected to her sexual attractiveness, pushing the woman into the role of object, a sort of visual prize. As a result of this, not only is the man observing, but she must observe herself in the same way (Berger 1972, 45). Instead of presenting the main protagonist as a man and therefore show the female as the visual subject, Ms. July fights against the standard assumptions. Christine is not the standard romantic lead, but a woman actively living and participating in the process of getting what she wants. There are no cute glances or passive female “tricks.” There are also moments, however, when Ms. July reverts back to the more traditional story techniques, though they work to aid the plot. When Christine is near the shoe department hanging socks from her ears, does she know he is looking? She also applies makeup and dresses herself in a particular way before she goes to confront Richard where he works. Often, her subjects are hoping for some sort of illusive miracle, manifested by their desire to feel that personal connection and know love. Full of idiosyncratic quirks and private eccentricities, her characters strive to survive the day to day struggles that can sometimes destroy them. But they keep going, because true beauty lies in the simple, and often humorous, moments in life--whether through the slight touch of a hand or the sound of a ringing phone. In conclusion, Miranda July is an original--someone whose very life blood is connected to her creative output. She continues to inspire and influence female filmmakers through the Joanie4Jackie project. Since its inception in 1996, Joanie4Jackie has grown into an expanding forum for creative women to share their work and build a strong art-based community. It seems appropriate to end this paper by sharing more of Ms. July’s own words. During one interview, she excitedly explained: Life is so ridiculously gorgeous, strange, heartbreaking, horrific, etc., that we are compelled to describe it to ourselves, but we can’t! We cannot do it! And so we make art. (Higgs) Works Cited Berger, John. Ways of Seeing. London: Penguin Books, 1972. Print Durbin, Karen. “Young Filmmaker Tells Hollywood It Can Wait.” New York Times 19 June 2005. Web. 17 November 2010. Higgs, Matthew. “Miranda July.” Interview Magazine 2 June 2010. Web. 17 November 2010. Horowitz, Eli. “Miranda July: Performance Artist and Filmmaker.” Believer Magazine June 2005. Web. 18 November 2010. Kaplan, E. Ann, editor. Feminism and Film. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Print. Malkiewicz, Kris and M. David Mullen. Cinematography: A Guide for Filmmakers and Film Teachers. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2005. Print. Petro, Petrice. Aftershocks of the New: Feminism and Film History. New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 2002. Print. Wenclas, King. “Miranda July.” Underground Literary Alliance 4 June 2007. Web. 18 November 2010. You and Me and Everyone We Know. Dir. Miranda July. Perf. Miranda July, John Hawkes. IFC Films/Film Four, 2005. Film. Read More