Image from Tokyo Reels catalogue for The Game (1973) by Shirak
First off, I preface this post by acknowledging the strange and disorienting dissonance between the stark awareness of an ongoing genocide, as broadcast and performed by mass media, and the automation of behaviors (working and staying “on track”) that is hardwired into the rhythm of everyday life in much of the U.S. It is unacceptable, to be quite frank, which is not to say anyone is ever deserving of blame or without reasonable situation or circumstance, but a fact must simply be seen the way it is. Of course, it is unacceptable. Of course, it is horrific, terrifying, and for me, strikes fear by provoking my own most obscene memories of cruelty. The nearly 20,000 martyrs in Gaza who have been killed, with millions displaced, in grief and starvation, is a number that has occurred so quickly that it is at present unfathomable, a catastrophe that not only is ongoing but has already dredged so deeply into the flesh of global consciousness, we are approaching decades on generations for any form of psychic reparation to redress. American imperialism and its institutional stronghold perplexes me beyond end but what’s clear is that addressing injustice is a life-long commitment that no form of “self-care” or sense of entitlement toward an individualistic sense of stability is enough to justify ignoring.
My entry point to addressing these complex feelings, though, was from watching Hunger Games yesterday evening at the Beverly Grove, surrounded by throngs of people anticipating the holiday season. I don’t think the feelings of guilt or shame from ignorance, nor the political cultures that foster a moralistic gaze, are enough to sustain long-term engagement with divesting from the neocolonial, though giving or taking offense at certain junctures may be useful indicators of one’s own attachments and thus possible directions for growth. Being present in the heart of Hollywood consumerism, the American cinema, during a time that demands greater attention, vigilance, and politics in practice, however, had surfaced the postwar sensibilities of Adorno regarding the culture industry, the military-entertainment complex, and the role of leisure in entirely obfuscating the underlying dynamics of work, the economy, and war. Does the content even matter anymore? In my view, both yes and no.
The issue is in the narcissism of character-driven storytelling that poses complex societal phenomena as rooted in solely the intention or morality of a person and their personal relations, or worse, ascribing that to the “nature” of life and survival. No, being heartbroken by an impoverished woman who ultimately takes from you is not the caveat for why the utter dehumanization of entire social groups must exist. It is disappointing to witness what was until then compelling worldbuilding become only a mere backdrop to a far less relevant story. Granted, I write of the Hunger Games (the fourth, a prequel, at that) and don’t presume it itself is particularly relevant either beyond the fact of it happening to be in theatres now, but what it does evoke is how useless a poorly written villain story can be in a world designed for much higher potential for subversive social commentary.
The film begins in the debris of war, as two children witness a man being shot by another. Districts are stonewalled by military police and dissidents are hung at the tree. A game show operates as a ritual of sorts, one that heightens social conflict in a way that reinforces the hegemony of a particular order. The head of evil is a Doctor, enthralled by the sadism of animal experimentation, as the public of privileged class gamify the violence. I seek not to go further in depth on this film (it was oddly formulaic with random bursts of song) but what intrigued me about it was more so in how the cinema served as perfect analogue to the very spectacle at question in not so much of a clever meta-critical way but as the very dystopia itself.
The issue, I think, is not in fiction entertainment as being the vehicle for storytelling but more so how it is done and how it is, or rather, is not, engaged (at worst, taking three hours and $20 out-of-pocket). The line between reality, fiction, and game have been blurred in though-provoking ways throughout the history of cinema and yes, meaning lies beyond the apparatus and dialogue with its cultural enframings. And as much as people are anxious about AI-generated content, the current state of franchise and episodic content to me prove that creativity already comes from the audience and the meaning they make from images into their lives. In fact, I trust that we actually can discern the type of stories we would like to see, the topics we would like to learn more about, and the actions we can take for bringing more meaning into our lives.
This brings me to the topic of film archives, because then, the question comes down to the limitations of cultural imagination and the inspiration that images of Palestinian resistance can offer in mobilizing our own calls to action. Earlier this evening, the LA Filmforum and Human Resources hosted a screening of films, first including films from 1935 Zionist settler propaganda to then show post 1967 depictions of resistance from the Palestinian Film Units, committed to the formation of its own unique aesthetics, which tie in to contemporary film works such as machinima that bring the context of Palestine to Los Santos, of Grand Theft Auto, in the state of ludonarrative dissonance (or, theatre of the oppressed on Palestinian servers) we are seeing today. As the curator Zaina Bseiso asks, how can the Cinema of spectacle become one of co-authorship? How can the affective image connect to the eye’s retina and compel the body to action?
One film, The Game (1973), by Shirak Iraq, a 16-minute film, was one of the many found from obfuscation via acts of Palestinian solidarity, via the what’s now the archive Tokyo Reels ( http://www.tokyoreels.com ). In this film, a young boy is gifted toy guns and toy tanks, and he plays with his friends in a field where remnants of combat, such as an empty shell of a tank, lie. In this landscape, the boys play hide and seek, ultimately finding a deceased child amidst the artillery, and the Game begins to gradually merge with actual warfare. What The Game (1973) has done for me is humanize, elegantly and with complexity, the emergence of militarism without neessarily reinforcing it, bringing forth a sensibility of sustained horror rooted in a shared image between the soon-to-be resistance fighter and the spectator, that split second image of the child, lying on the floor, seen in 1973 by the young boys in the film and in 2023 on our screens today. It’s the nefarious playfulness, the unreality of game mixed with the horror of the present, that makes me consider what can be done in the domain of worldbuilding, game design, and the mobilizing truths that can be communicated within…
(Part II forthcoming regarding the film Like An Event in A Dream Dreamt By Another – Rehearsal, by Firas Shehadeh – Full film program available here: https://www.lafilmforum.org/assets/Uploads/Screenings/Documents/Program-notes_Dec-3_Palestinian-Films-v1.pdf)
新泳 is newswimming 