Drama & Archetype - Surface And Deep Archetypes In The Exploitation Space
Thoughts On: Drama & Archetypes
Today we build upon a theory of objective-subjective impressionism by questioning how archetypes function in regards to drama.
We have previously talked about three theories that, today, I want to combine. The first theory is of exploitation and the viewer. We talked about this in regards to The Wolf of Wall Street.
This theory of the 'exploitation space' deals with a film existing between ourselves and the screen. This space of cinema is a construct of both filmmaker and audience. Both collaborate, and so both project part of themselves into this space. This space is one of exploitation because it makes us vulnerable by having us feel conflict; our emotions are exploited and/or so are characters in a narrative.
For the sake of brevity, I will not delve into the intricacies of these theories, so, please, if you're interested follow the links and read around the theory. That said, we continue.
The second theory is of objective and subjective impressionism. This deals with impressionism turning characters into objects and objects into characters, and it comfortably merges with the exploitation space theory as to demonstrate that the filmmaker can use certain types of impressionism to manipulate the space in which we, the audience, are exploited and view exploitation.
The final theory concerns drama. This theory hypothesises that 'drama' is not a genre. Drama sits in a category of its own and it can be classified. There are then four types of drama: biodrama, tuphlodrama, typhlodrama and melodrama. What we are going to do today primarily concerns drama and its relationship with being within the exploitation space.
To start, it is best to define the four classes of drama. We should all have heard of melodrama before. This is drama that is intensely contrived. Biodrama may not be familiar, but it is a very simple term. Biodrama is the drama of life, it is realistic action put onto film. Tuphlo and typhlodrama are where things get slightly difficult. Typhlodrama describes films whose action is based in physical and psychological unrealism (a little like the melodrama), but is nonetheless trying to be a little realistic. You need only think of films such as the Bourne Identity here. This represents a new kind of modern action film that, though it is based on Hollywood nonsense, has a gritty and realistic approach. The kind of drama represented by action in Bourne Identity is slightly blind to the rules of reality. Tuhplodrama, the final kind of drama, is based in psychological and physical realism that is perturbed and disturbed by an artist. We can understand this via the action in the films of Yorgos Lanthimos, films such as The Lobster, where characters exists in a realistic domain but, for lack of a better word, act in a tone-deaf and off manner; they act in a way that is deaf to the musical harmony of 'normal' life as represented by what turns out to often be Hollywood melodramas.
What I want to investigate today is the manner in which drama effects the exploitation space via archetypes. And this will have us expand upon the idea of an exploitation space. So, to begin directly, the initial essay on the exploitation space dealt with a conceptualisation of a space that conjures emotion. The introduction to the idea of that space is then limited as it focused primarily on the function of the 'exploitation film'. And in such, the theory, as presented there, was weighted towards understanding how we can watch seemingly disagreeable films. To pull back and reassess, let us take a look at the space again:
When we project ourselves into this space, we are manifesting archetypes. It is important to be very particular when using the term 'archetype' as I believe it has two functions. The Jungian idea of the archetype emerges from the psyche. That is to say, it can only ever be projected onto objects as to see them manifest our own biases, fantasies, complexes, desires and, more simply, temperament. The more general idea of the archetype, however, is manifested, not by the psyche, but, an artist. The psyche recognises this kind of archetype. Thus, there are the kind of archetypes that are written into a film, and then there are the kind of archetypes that we bring to a film. Jung would be very sceptical about the more general idea of the archetype that is often presented over his as it implies, quite simply, a stock kind of character; a figure who reoccurs over and over. The recurrence of the, for example, strong man archetype, is a pretty conscious one which is not necessarily deeply embedded in the personal or collective unconscious. Jung would be more interested in the archetype that may be at the core of the surface level one. This would be the archetype that we perceive in conjuncture with our personal experience when watching a strong man on film. In the strong man, we may then project the archetype of our father or animus.
We can distinguish the Jungian and the general archetype from one another by labelling the Jungian variant the 'deep-archetype' and the general variant the 'surface-archetype'. Unlike Jung, I am deeply fascinated by, and so see much value in, not just deep-archetypes but also surface-archetypes. Surface-archetypes do not say much about the individual in a qualitative sense (this is what Jung would always be after as a psychiatrist), but they do indicate the ways in which films speak to one another. And thus surface-archetypes provide a psychology of art itself - which, without its human counter-parts is nothing, meaning that its psychology is not as important as the audiences' or filmmakers'. Alas, art has a kind of psychology that is made accessible by the surface-archetype, and I find it fascinating.
What we project into the exploitation space are deep-archetypes. What films project into the exploitation space are surface-archetypes. The archetypes of the viewer will always be deep as they emerge from the personal unconscious, unconsciously. Archetypes projected from the screen will always be surface as they are emerging from a personal unconscious (the unconscious of the artist) or a collective unconscious consciously. To be more precise, I should justify and problematise my use of 'always'. Surface-archetypes can emerge from the viewer when they engage film with an ideology at hand. In such, if you are told to write an essay on a film for a class on feminism, you will consciously be holding a feminist lens onto a screen. Thus, the archetypes you project will have a pretence of surface about them. However, I question if ideologies are in fact manifestations of temperament that we engage and use unconsciously. If this is the case, which it may not be, then deep-archetypes will always emerge from the viewer - even through ideology. Suffice to say then that deep-archetypes emerge from the viewer the majority of the time. And in regards to surface-archetypes emerging from the screen, we can query the filmmaker, who may not consciously be using archetypes, instead, putting their deep-archetypes on screen directly. I am not sure how possible this would be considering the fact that numerous people work on films. And whilst we could say someone leads the way as in an auteur theory, I find it hard to say that anyone can direct, write and produce a film whilst not once making conscious the process of their projection. If anyone does this, maybe Lynch does - maybe a few others. Alas, it seems to me that surface-archetypes will always be present on screen, not just because it would be hard to project much other than that, but also because deep-archetypes, when not gleaned from the the collective unconscious unconsciously, can't, arguably, be unconsciously gleaned at all. I will not speak in definites though. So, suffice to say that, for the majority of all cases, surface-archetypes will be projected through a screen.
Having established that both surface and deep archetypes populate the exploitation space, it becomes clear that the exploitation space is a playground for the archetypes. In such, it will have us engage with representations of humans, events and objects alike that are all limbs of the collective unconscious in some way or another. The exploitation space then becomes a pseudo collective space of unconsciousness. Notably, however, consciousness presides over the space as we see represented by the line that transcends the space:
Having set the grounds for a unified theory, let us now begin with the unifying. If the exploitation space is the playground of the archetypes, the archetypes are manipulated by a filmmaker via objective-subjective impressionism:
What is of interest here, is that only 2 of the 6 types are archetypes. What we then perceive and dream with in the shared cinematic space is not just archetypes. Whilst we project deep-archetypes into the space, we may be confronted by a mere caricature. When these two figures play in the exploitation space, sparks of entertainment and/or frustration may fly. Let us then imagine an enjoyable exploitation film. I will reference Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity. Here, the personal deep-archetypes represent our own complexes whilst the film presents us toys to play with. The toys, when interacted with unconsciously remain caricatures and objects of our will. But, when analysed, they can become symbols; objects that reveal to us our own psychology, temperamental complexes and deep-archetypes. Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity the probably says much about my anima.
This line of thought, in general, says much about the joy and meaning one can find in trashy movies. Alas, the deep-archetype may also confront another archetype - a surface-archetype - and, in such a case, the viewer will have material with which to delve into the depth of the film. But, when the deep-archetype is confronted by a symbol or character, a mirror is held up. The surface-archetype almost always appears real and deep. We are then forced by it to analyse ourselves in conjuncture with the film.
More could be said about each of those processes, but, I am currently interested in relating these three phenomena to the types of drama. Let us then step back and ask what a filmmaker will engage in the exploitation space when they manifest biodrama. By presenting life as it is, complex and challenging, a biodramatist will want to create a complex character. Bergman is a master at this, and Scenes From A Marriage is a masterclass in this regard. It is in this film that Bergman then uses biodrama to make characters that are so real that we can't help but see them reflect the archetypes we project back onto ourselves. We then watch our own anima and animus bicker and destroy one another when we watch Scenes From A Marriage.
Conversely, in a melodrama, we will see archetypes or caricatures fall to the whims of our own biases. In such, what we want--yearn--to see occur will occur. The silent film melodramas, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, for example, are particularly brilliant at this. It is in Sunrise that we don't necessarily see real characters, but, our own idols, our anima and animus, put on screen. The result of this is the diametrically opposed to the result seen when the deep-archetype is confronted by a character. The surface-archetypes and caricatures of the melodrama perform for our deep-archetypes whilst characters challenge them.
What we see the exploitation space transformed into by the biodrama and melodrama are places of intimacy and discomfort. Realism causes discomfort. Unrealism is intimate. With typhlo and tuphlodrama, we will see the exploitation space mediate between these two states. The typhlodrama exists primarily in a realm of comfort with everything presented performing for our projections. However, it can challenge them with doses of realism and tragedy. And this isn't to say that, through tragedy for example, typhlodramas generate negative emotion. No, this is not the source of discomfort. Discomfort is characterised here as forced introspection. When we are made to consider reality as reflective of ourselves and in turn question ourselves there emerges the discomfort. This occurs throughout the masterpiece that is The Planet of the Apes prequel trilogy as we continually realise that the apes play out our mythological stories.
As you may put together, tuphlodramas focus on the uncomfortable space. Like biodramas, they want us to see our deep-archetypes reflected back in our face. However, they will use contrivance and hints of melodrama as to tend to our projections, only to then strike out at them again. A brilliant example of this would be The Meyerowitz Stories. Within this film we are continually made to see ourselves in a family that is falling apart. Comedy so often perturbs the realism, however, taking the edge off of the film. But, the relief is sometimes a rouse. There is a strain of the film in which we see a character's daughter start to make films and appear naked in them. Initially this is played for comedy. However, when we identify with the father, and the absurd joke emerges again, there is a tinge of horror as we question 'What if that was my daughter?'. Here our deep-archetype, our daughter, figurative or not, our anima, is thrown in our face by tuphlodrama.
Many more examples could be drawn up here, but what I present now concerns drama, objective-subjective impressionism and the exploitation space. These three theories interact in a way that will see specific games played between deep and surface archetypes in the collective space of unconscious (a.k.a the exploitation space). Dependent on what kind of impressionism and drama utilised by a filmmaker, different archetypes will emerge and, in turn, the exploitation space will start to liven
To see this post in its context, please check out the page that collects posts on my developing theory of objective-subjective impressionism here.
Previous post:
End Of The Week Shorts #55
Next post:
Moana - Syzygetic Projection & Gaze
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
Today we build upon a theory of objective-subjective impressionism by questioning how archetypes function in regards to drama.
We have previously talked about three theories that, today, I want to combine. The first theory is of exploitation and the viewer. We talked about this in regards to The Wolf of Wall Street.
For the sake of brevity, I will not delve into the intricacies of these theories, so, please, if you're interested follow the links and read around the theory. That said, we continue.
The second theory is of objective and subjective impressionism. This deals with impressionism turning characters into objects and objects into characters, and it comfortably merges with the exploitation space theory as to demonstrate that the filmmaker can use certain types of impressionism to manipulate the space in which we, the audience, are exploited and view exploitation.
The final theory concerns drama. This theory hypothesises that 'drama' is not a genre. Drama sits in a category of its own and it can be classified. There are then four types of drama: biodrama, tuphlodrama, typhlodrama and melodrama. What we are going to do today primarily concerns drama and its relationship with being within the exploitation space.
To start, it is best to define the four classes of drama. We should all have heard of melodrama before. This is drama that is intensely contrived. Biodrama may not be familiar, but it is a very simple term. Biodrama is the drama of life, it is realistic action put onto film. Tuphlo and typhlodrama are where things get slightly difficult. Typhlodrama describes films whose action is based in physical and psychological unrealism (a little like the melodrama), but is nonetheless trying to be a little realistic. You need only think of films such as the Bourne Identity here. This represents a new kind of modern action film that, though it is based on Hollywood nonsense, has a gritty and realistic approach. The kind of drama represented by action in Bourne Identity is slightly blind to the rules of reality. Tuhplodrama, the final kind of drama, is based in psychological and physical realism that is perturbed and disturbed by an artist. We can understand this via the action in the films of Yorgos Lanthimos, films such as The Lobster, where characters exists in a realistic domain but, for lack of a better word, act in a tone-deaf and off manner; they act in a way that is deaf to the musical harmony of 'normal' life as represented by what turns out to often be Hollywood melodramas.
What I want to investigate today is the manner in which drama effects the exploitation space via archetypes. And this will have us expand upon the idea of an exploitation space. So, to begin directly, the initial essay on the exploitation space dealt with a conceptualisation of a space that conjures emotion. The introduction to the idea of that space is then limited as it focused primarily on the function of the 'exploitation film'. And in such, the theory, as presented there, was weighted towards understanding how we can watch seemingly disagreeable films. To pull back and reassess, let us take a look at the space again:
When we project ourselves into this space, we are manifesting archetypes. It is important to be very particular when using the term 'archetype' as I believe it has two functions. The Jungian idea of the archetype emerges from the psyche. That is to say, it can only ever be projected onto objects as to see them manifest our own biases, fantasies, complexes, desires and, more simply, temperament. The more general idea of the archetype, however, is manifested, not by the psyche, but, an artist. The psyche recognises this kind of archetype. Thus, there are the kind of archetypes that are written into a film, and then there are the kind of archetypes that we bring to a film. Jung would be very sceptical about the more general idea of the archetype that is often presented over his as it implies, quite simply, a stock kind of character; a figure who reoccurs over and over. The recurrence of the, for example, strong man archetype, is a pretty conscious one which is not necessarily deeply embedded in the personal or collective unconscious. Jung would be more interested in the archetype that may be at the core of the surface level one. This would be the archetype that we perceive in conjuncture with our personal experience when watching a strong man on film. In the strong man, we may then project the archetype of our father or animus.
We can distinguish the Jungian and the general archetype from one another by labelling the Jungian variant the 'deep-archetype' and the general variant the 'surface-archetype'. Unlike Jung, I am deeply fascinated by, and so see much value in, not just deep-archetypes but also surface-archetypes. Surface-archetypes do not say much about the individual in a qualitative sense (this is what Jung would always be after as a psychiatrist), but they do indicate the ways in which films speak to one another. And thus surface-archetypes provide a psychology of art itself - which, without its human counter-parts is nothing, meaning that its psychology is not as important as the audiences' or filmmakers'. Alas, art has a kind of psychology that is made accessible by the surface-archetype, and I find it fascinating.
What we project into the exploitation space are deep-archetypes. What films project into the exploitation space are surface-archetypes. The archetypes of the viewer will always be deep as they emerge from the personal unconscious, unconsciously. Archetypes projected from the screen will always be surface as they are emerging from a personal unconscious (the unconscious of the artist) or a collective unconscious consciously. To be more precise, I should justify and problematise my use of 'always'. Surface-archetypes can emerge from the viewer when they engage film with an ideology at hand. In such, if you are told to write an essay on a film for a class on feminism, you will consciously be holding a feminist lens onto a screen. Thus, the archetypes you project will have a pretence of surface about them. However, I question if ideologies are in fact manifestations of temperament that we engage and use unconsciously. If this is the case, which it may not be, then deep-archetypes will always emerge from the viewer - even through ideology. Suffice to say then that deep-archetypes emerge from the viewer the majority of the time. And in regards to surface-archetypes emerging from the screen, we can query the filmmaker, who may not consciously be using archetypes, instead, putting their deep-archetypes on screen directly. I am not sure how possible this would be considering the fact that numerous people work on films. And whilst we could say someone leads the way as in an auteur theory, I find it hard to say that anyone can direct, write and produce a film whilst not once making conscious the process of their projection. If anyone does this, maybe Lynch does - maybe a few others. Alas, it seems to me that surface-archetypes will always be present on screen, not just because it would be hard to project much other than that, but also because deep-archetypes, when not gleaned from the the collective unconscious unconsciously, can't, arguably, be unconsciously gleaned at all. I will not speak in definites though. So, suffice to say that, for the majority of all cases, surface-archetypes will be projected through a screen.
Having established that both surface and deep archetypes populate the exploitation space, it becomes clear that the exploitation space is a playground for the archetypes. In such, it will have us engage with representations of humans, events and objects alike that are all limbs of the collective unconscious in some way or another. The exploitation space then becomes a pseudo collective space of unconsciousness. Notably, however, consciousness presides over the space as we see represented by the line that transcends the space:
Having set the grounds for a unified theory, let us now begin with the unifying. If the exploitation space is the playground of the archetypes, the archetypes are manipulated by a filmmaker via objective-subjective impressionism:
What is of interest here, is that only 2 of the 6 types are archetypes. What we then perceive and dream with in the shared cinematic space is not just archetypes. Whilst we project deep-archetypes into the space, we may be confronted by a mere caricature. When these two figures play in the exploitation space, sparks of entertainment and/or frustration may fly. Let us then imagine an enjoyable exploitation film. I will reference Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity. Here, the personal deep-archetypes represent our own complexes whilst the film presents us toys to play with. The toys, when interacted with unconsciously remain caricatures and objects of our will. But, when analysed, they can become symbols; objects that reveal to us our own psychology, temperamental complexes and deep-archetypes. Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity the probably says much about my anima.
This line of thought, in general, says much about the joy and meaning one can find in trashy movies. Alas, the deep-archetype may also confront another archetype - a surface-archetype - and, in such a case, the viewer will have material with which to delve into the depth of the film. But, when the deep-archetype is confronted by a symbol or character, a mirror is held up. The surface-archetype almost always appears real and deep. We are then forced by it to analyse ourselves in conjuncture with the film.
More could be said about each of those processes, but, I am currently interested in relating these three phenomena to the types of drama. Let us then step back and ask what a filmmaker will engage in the exploitation space when they manifest biodrama. By presenting life as it is, complex and challenging, a biodramatist will want to create a complex character. Bergman is a master at this, and Scenes From A Marriage is a masterclass in this regard. It is in this film that Bergman then uses biodrama to make characters that are so real that we can't help but see them reflect the archetypes we project back onto ourselves. We then watch our own anima and animus bicker and destroy one another when we watch Scenes From A Marriage.
Conversely, in a melodrama, we will see archetypes or caricatures fall to the whims of our own biases. In such, what we want--yearn--to see occur will occur. The silent film melodramas, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, for example, are particularly brilliant at this. It is in Sunrise that we don't necessarily see real characters, but, our own idols, our anima and animus, put on screen. The result of this is the diametrically opposed to the result seen when the deep-archetype is confronted by a character. The surface-archetypes and caricatures of the melodrama perform for our deep-archetypes whilst characters challenge them.
What we see the exploitation space transformed into by the biodrama and melodrama are places of intimacy and discomfort. Realism causes discomfort. Unrealism is intimate. With typhlo and tuphlodrama, we will see the exploitation space mediate between these two states. The typhlodrama exists primarily in a realm of comfort with everything presented performing for our projections. However, it can challenge them with doses of realism and tragedy. And this isn't to say that, through tragedy for example, typhlodramas generate negative emotion. No, this is not the source of discomfort. Discomfort is characterised here as forced introspection. When we are made to consider reality as reflective of ourselves and in turn question ourselves there emerges the discomfort. This occurs throughout the masterpiece that is The Planet of the Apes prequel trilogy as we continually realise that the apes play out our mythological stories.
As you may put together, tuphlodramas focus on the uncomfortable space. Like biodramas, they want us to see our deep-archetypes reflected back in our face. However, they will use contrivance and hints of melodrama as to tend to our projections, only to then strike out at them again. A brilliant example of this would be The Meyerowitz Stories. Within this film we are continually made to see ourselves in a family that is falling apart. Comedy so often perturbs the realism, however, taking the edge off of the film. But, the relief is sometimes a rouse. There is a strain of the film in which we see a character's daughter start to make films and appear naked in them. Initially this is played for comedy. However, when we identify with the father, and the absurd joke emerges again, there is a tinge of horror as we question 'What if that was my daughter?'. Here our deep-archetype, our daughter, figurative or not, our anima, is thrown in our face by tuphlodrama.
Many more examples could be drawn up here, but what I present now concerns drama, objective-subjective impressionism and the exploitation space. These three theories interact in a way that will see specific games played between deep and surface archetypes in the collective space of unconscious (a.k.a the exploitation space). Dependent on what kind of impressionism and drama utilised by a filmmaker, different archetypes will emerge and, in turn, the exploitation space will start to liven
To see this post in its context, please check out the page that collects posts on my developing theory of objective-subjective impressionism here.
Previous post:
End Of The Week Shorts #55
Next post:
Moana - Syzygetic Projection & Gaze
More from me:
amazon.com/author/danielslack
