A LOOK INTO WILDLIFE FILM MAKING ETHICS: LIONS …AND TIGERS… AND BEARS? OH MY!

The killer stalks forward. Its snarling muzzle of razor sharp teeth exposed as black lips curl back. Muscular chops (possessing agonizingly crushing force) twitch in anticipation, and viscous saliva drips.  The hunter’s eyes, without mercy, stare down villainously upon the helpless prey, for whom all hope is lost. 
This ridiculous contrived partial narrative could describe any number of predatory mammals on the hunt, and it illustrates how an author’s bias of a subject or character can completely color and/ or cloud the message being relayed. Is the description referring to a big bad wolf, a rabid dog, one of the man-eating lions of Tsavo? One’s own perspective can either consciously or subconsciously alter the message being conveyed to others. Re-read the first sentence with a feisty puppy and a tennis ball in mind; the meaning changes from horror to humor.
The ability for individual opinion to influence others is as much a factor in wildlife films as in literature. In fact, film’s narrative form, the vessel by which a story is conveyed, owes its origin to the novel, popular when film was first invented and explored. In his book Wildlife Films, Derek Bousé quotes film theory author Robert Ray: ‘‘Cinema’s apparently natural subjection of style to narration in fact depended on a historical accident: the movies’ origins lay in a late nineteenth century whose predominant popular arts were the novel and the theater” (p. 19).[1] Consequently, just as an author transfers a narrative’s reality from the mind to the audience via pen or keyboard, a director does the same with film.
We have seen a lion portrayed as a menacing and murderous nuisance worthy only of execution in the Johnson’s Simba: King of the Beasts (1928). Louis Jean Lumière’s Pelicans, Lion, and Tigers at the London Zoological Gardens (1895) stars a tiger and another lion; both of whom were provoked to provide a good show but equated to the villainization of their species to the public. Despite fathering oceanic conservation, even Jacques Cousteau’s prejudice against sharks is clearly evident in The Silent World (1954) as the narrator states, “All the sailors of the world hate sharks” and "sharks are the mortal enemies of sailors." However, Cousteau (in contrast to the aforementioned filmmakers) had justification for his abhorrence of an apex predator; as a former French naval officer in World War II, he most certainly had knowledge of the USS Indianapolis and its crew’s fate. Conversely, Walt Disney utilized anthropomorphism to alter public opinion (and initiate the commodification) of rodents with Mickey Mouse, even though mice present a greater threat to humans through the spread of disease and waste related illnesses (like histoplasmosis) than lions, tigers, and sharks combined. For better or worse, the attitude and approach a filmmaker takes toward his or her subject matter can positively or negatively impact the public’s opinion of that animal.
From lions and tigers - to bears; Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man (2005) provides two often conflicting perspectives on Alaskan grizzly bears. On one hand is the shaky handheld video footage captured by Timothy Treadwell during his years in the wilderness. It is accompanied by the false-accented, falsetto-sounding rantings of an obviously unstable and mentally ill individual who explores taboo topics (from sexuality to the search for self) in a still steaming pile of feces. “I can feel the poop! It's warm! It just came from her butt! This was just inside of her. My girl! I'm touching it! ... Everything about them is perfect!"[2] The childlike enthusiasm and blind adoration Treadwell openly expresses for bears couples with a religious fervor and attachment to the perceived soul-cleansing power of the camera. Proximity related ethical wildlife violations, and the consequences of habituation and domestication are of no concern to Treadwell; he names and blatantly anthropomorphizes the wild brown bears and a resident fox. Per the helicopter pilot that retrieved the couple’s remains, “He was treating them like people in bear costumes.”[3]  The obsessive love for bears melded with Treadwell’s unorthodox field ethics in an effort to increase public awareness and elicit a positive emotional connection between bears and humanity. However, the mission at any cost, and the unhealthy attachment to the dangerous animals demonstrate an unhealthy mind; “I'm in love with my animal friends. I'm in love with my animal friends! In love with my animal friends. I'm very, very troubled. It's very emotional... I'm so in love with them, and they're so f-ed over, which so sucks.”[4] Treadwell lacked logic and allowed emotion to cloud his view of reality; he used the animals and camera as his personal psychotherapists and was in the wilderness for his own needs instead of theirs. The shaky-handheld videography (though successful in obtaining moments of incredible footage), psychologically disturbing banter, and unethical behaviors are in stark contrast to the film’s director.
Werner Herzog’s precision, perfectionism, and professionalism (as one would expect from a filmmaker originating from the home of German Expressionism) bring the film and audience back into a much welcome reality from Treadwell’s trip down the rabbit hole. In a type of human interest exposé, Herzog uses exposition documentary filmmaking to dive into the psychological and personal factors that caused Treadwell to venture into a world ill-suited for human habitation. Though offering informed interpretations, Herzog objectively reports his findings, which show Treadwell’s purpose in both positive and negative lights. However, his opinion of the deceased man’s unhealthy affection for bears and unsafe encroachment upon their habitat is not withheld. In an interview with NPR, Herzog states, “You should not love the bears; you should respect them. Keep your distance and respect them.”[5] Treadwell’s close proximity to the bears was most certainly a defining factor in not only his fame, but ultimately his death. This view on maintaining distance to wildlife is supported throughout the film by experts, and Herzog summarizes, “nature is cold and harsh. Treadwell’s view clouded his thinking and led him to underestimate danger, resulting in his death and that of his girlfriend.”[6] The director’s intended message to the audience is one of cautious respect, “And while we watch the animals in their joys of being, in their grace and ferociousness, a thought becomes more and more clear. That it is not so much a look at wild nature, as it is an insight into ourselves, our nature.”[7]
Looking into the nature of mankind does not always reveal a pretty picture. Fear and ignorance (blended with a healthy dose of fiction and lore) can cause humans to behave badly. As narrated in Bill Mason’s 1971 documentary film Death of a Legend, “We’ve tried our very best to exterminate the wolf. Terror and hatred - the pioneer felt for the wolf, for he had inherited the horror stories - the legends from Europe.” From Little Red Riding Hood of European origins, to the werewolf films of the Universal Pictures monsters series, wolves have habitually been portrayed as blood thirsty savages. At best, they are blamed for slaughtering livestock; at worst, murdering innocent humans. Feared and hunted since early man realized he was competing for the same resources, wolves were deemed a threat, and they are now considered an endangered species.[8] However, changing popular opinion (based on fear, misinformation, and verbal traditional stories) is no easy task.
Bill Mason, an avid outdoorsman, filmmaker, and conservationist, chose to rewrite the apex predator’s story as advocate instead of adversary.  Per filmmaker and author Chris Palmer, “This 1971 documentary broke new ground by refusing to paint wolves as evil killers. As the film depicted them, they were superb predators, but they rarely attacked livestock and almost never harmed humans. They were also loyal and affectionate caregivers and good communicators” (p. 2).[9] Death of a Legend provides perspectives from the farmer, rancher, and secluded wilderness homesteader, but it differs by also representing the wolf’s struggle for survival. Previously, only the inconvenience to humans and animals caused by wolves was emphasized, but Mason allows the audience to identify with the animal by revealing its common characteristics. The wolf mother affectionately cares for her pups, and the father remains present throughout. Further, the pack aids in raising the young, and the adorable pup’s grim odds for survival are solemnly narrated. Should he be lucky enough to reach adulthood, his pelt already has a bounty on it. Mason ties the wolf’s fate to mankind’s heartstrings.
Both Tredwell and Mason focused on (and advocated for) what would be considered dangerous predators. They both obtained amazing footage that had previously been unseen. Each found a refuge in the wilderness, but in different ways and for different reasons. Per Canadian communications and film instructor Tom Shoebridge[10] in his 1979 National Film Board Publication His Camera : the Land and its Creatures, Mason “stays in the wilderness during the shooting, sleeping in a tent or under his canoe. To many people, living alone in the wilderness for long periods of time would be a hardship, but Mason loves it.”[11] Instead of psychotherapy and the company of fuzzy friends, love for nature and its inhabitants are the motivation for Death of a Legend; the director explains, "The medium of film is for me a means of expressing my love and enjoyment of the natural world, and of sharing my concern for what's happening to it with anybody who looks and listens.”[12]
Since a major difference between Grizzly Man and Death of a Legend is protagonist related (Tredwell in the former and the wolf itself in the latter), the audience does not learn about what drew Mason specifically towards the wolf; the story was not about the filmmaker but about the actual animals themselves. However, Shoebridge commented, “He deals only with topics which he has either experienced or has thought through completely, and to which he is firmly committed.”[13] Further in contrast to Treadwell’s ethical violations, the effort with which Mason obtained his footage indicates that though guidelines for wildlife filmmaking were in their adolescence, hard work and perseverance replace lunacy and luck. “Once there, he is a perfectionist who tirelessly searches out the ideal location, sets up and then waits for exactly the right lighting or action.” Rather than a human’s personal relationship with a wild animal community, the viewer is able to learn about the complex relationships within a wolf pack from Mason’s meticulously planned shots. Instead of Treadwell’s maniacal exultations at digested organic matter, Mason allows the audience to witness birth in the den; the miracle of life speaks with dignity for itself. By remaining silently behind the camera and focusing on the wildlife instead of himself, Mason makes a stronger argument for his cause and left a more respectable legacy worldwide after his passing.
The audience’s take-away from a film is directly linked to how material is presented. Specifically, in wildlife film, a filmmaker has an obligation to ensure that the animals are safely front and center; ethical violations, egos, and psychosis not only detract from an intended message’s delivery, but may cause others to emulate potentially harmful behavior as well. Further, strong feelings are possible by association; it is possible for an individual to so love or detest Treadwell that his beloved bears are hurt as a result of human emotions. Despite Herzog’s efforts, Treadwell’s distorted reality was evident in Grizzly Man. However, the existence and nature of the Canadian wolf (and wildlife films as a sub-genre of documentaries), were most assuredly enhanced by Mason’s Death of a Legend. Though the Alaskan brown bear is not a stuffed teddy toy, and the Canadian wolf is not a murdering menace, audiences will be influenced by how an animal is portrayed in a film. This key factor is based on the approach taken by the filmmaker, which is influenced by his or her experience. Reality is therefore pliable and may be enhanced or distorted as a result.


[1] Derek Bousé, Wildlife Films (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000), accessed July 31, 2017, http://0-www.jstor.org.library.lemoyne.edu/stable/j.ctt3fhgg4.
[2] “Film/Grizzly Man,” tvtropes, accessed July 31, 2017, http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Film/GrizzlyMan.
[3] Roger Ebert, “Grizzly Man,” RogerEbert.com, last modified August 11, 2005, http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/grizzly-man-2005.
[4] “Grizzly Man (2005),” IMDb, accessed July 29, 2017, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0427312/trivia?tab=qt&ref_=tt_trv_qu.
[5] Scott Simon, “Grizzly Man,' Herzog's Human Nature Tale,” NPR.org, last modified July 30, 2005, http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4778191.

[6] “Grizzly Man,” InMotionMedia.Co.UK, last modified February 8, 2007, http://www.inmotionmedia.co.uk/2017/02/08/grizzly-man.
[7] Christopher Orr, “Bear Witness,” New Republic, last modified January 10, 2006, https://newrepublic.com/article/60673/bear-witness.
[8] “Wolf Facts,” Wolf Web, accessed August 1, 2017, http://www.wolfweb.com/history2.html.
[9] Chris Palmer, Shooting in the Wild: An Insider's Account of Making Movies in the Animal Kingdom (Counterpoint, 2010), Kindle edition.
[10] “Tom Shoebridge – Biography,” PEI Screen Writers’ Bootcamp, accessed August 1, 2017, http://www.peiscreenwritersbootcamp.net/yahoo_site_admin/assets/docs/Tom_Shoebridge.1473031.pdf.
[11] “Bill Mason: About the Film-maker,” Redcanoes.ca, accessed August 1, 2017, https://web.archive.org/web/20050218042120/http://www.redcanoes.ca:80/bill/about.html.
[12] “Bill Mason: Film-maker,” Redcanoes.ca, accessed August 1, 2017, https://web.archive.org/web/20050211061932/http://www.redcanoes.ca:80/bill/filmmaker.html.
[13] “Bill Mason: About the Film-maker,” Redcanoes.ca, accessed August 1, 2017, https://web.archive.org/web/20050218042120/http://www.redcanoes.ca:80/bill/about.html.
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Scottie’s Psychosis: Root Cause Analysis


            Within Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958), the protagonist, John “Scottie” Ferguson (James Stewart) suffers from numerous psychological disorders. The initial onset of acrophobia, or an irrational fear of heights, begins after a near death experience when Scottie slips during a roof top chase. However, acrophobia and vertigo are only the first of many abnormalities; depression, emotional immaturity, repression, withdrawal, fetishism, obsession, sadism, and implied necrophilia are soon to follow. While the traumatic work-related event provides a fault in the assumedly solid character’s visage, the root cause for Scottie’s fall into madness remains suspect. Why does Scottie lose his sanity after a near death experience when others face and overcome similar circumstances? Was the protagonist doomed by fate, merely a pawn being played, the victim of his own poor choices, or a combination of the three? Hitchcock uses Scottie as a psychological case study to imply a moral lesson; the road to madness may be on a character’s map based on fate (or traits inherent to the individual), and one may face formidable odds from external forces, but the first steps down any path are always a choice. Though Scottie’s weakness (illustrated through the director’s use of color) was exploited by outside influences, his lack of professionalism and unethical behavior toward a so-called client’s wife (Madeline) become the character’s leaping point from reality.
The director’s perfectionism and rumored obsessive control of detail equate to direct and/ or implied meaning in every seemingly trivial component of the film. There are no arbitrary or accidental details, but layers inviting interpretation cause engaged viewers to inquire why Scottie’s psychological deterioration occurs. Establishing an initial cause for the protagonist’s abnormal behavior, viewers immediately witness Scottie’s near death experience as the film opens. Acrophobia and vertigo have been triggered, and a sympathetic seed has been planted in the audience. When we meet Scottie at Midge Wood’s (Barbara Bel Geddes) art studio apartment later, an unknown amount of time has elapsed. An attentive viewer begins to feel a slight scratch of awareness as patterns of color begin to emerge around Scottie and Midge. We are relieved to learn that though battered, Scottie is on the mend, and our connection with him grows. The viewer is hopeful for his full recovery, but this is not meant to be; Scottie’s vulnerability is the vital link in a nefarious murder and related insurance fraud scheme.
In order to determine the root cause of Scottie’s psychosis, which is the result of witnessing Madeline’s staged suicide, one must examine Hitchcock’s painstaking associations of Vertigo’s three main characters with a color suited to their respective personalities; the pigments represent character identity, development, and through traits implied by each colors’ psychological and cultural connotations, each character’s fate. Scottie is associated with red, Midge with yellow, and Madeline / Judy are two shades of green. Consequently, the seemingly trivial patterns of color in the costumes, props, and sets throughout the film are significant in explaining why Scottie is repelled by Midge but inexorably drawn toward Madeline, thereby resulting in his mental deterioration. Scottie’s near death experience only opened the door of self-doubt and emasculation, through which Madeline (A.K.A. Judy) was able to enter without resistance. This lowering of defenses and ease into the protagonist’s heart (and psyche) can be explained anecdotally by fate or empirically with the evidence Hitchcock presents through Scottie’s association with the color red, and Madeline’s connection to the color green. Pivotal moments (especially when one character wears the color associated with another) allow the viewer to discover that each character’s behavior in stressful situations is predetermined by their traits, which are represented by the director with color.
Hints of color patterns begin in the film’s second scene. In Midge’s studio home, Scottie sits on two pieces of her red furniture, has a red front door at his own apartment, gives Madeline a red bath robe to wear, and takes her to the Redwood Forrest. Red is the color psychologically and culturally associated with strength, passion, danger, power, emotional intensity, rage, aggression, and longing[1]. Conversely, Midge touches and wears yellow in her home. She is independent, self-reliant, and talented; her color represents reality, truth, confrontation, intelligence, loyalty and honor. Per Color Wheel Pro, an online color software program, “men usually perceive yellow as a very lighthearted, childish color,” and yellow is also known to makes babies cry, which humorously implies why Scottie’s emotional immaturity drives him away from the one person in the film who truly cares for his well-being[2]. Despite rejection, Midge reaches out across the color wheel to relay her feelings during the self portrait presentation scene; she is wearing a red sweater (Scottie’s color), as Scottie wears a green sweater (Madeline’s color) after the water rescue. Shortly thereafter, Midge attempts to destroy the self-portrait in a temper tantrum, but there is no paint on the brush, which implies that no color will be able to accomplish her desired goal of winning Scottie.
Red and green (representing Scottie and Madeline respectively) are complete opposites on the color wheel, but they are defined as complimentary colors. As demonstrated with traffic signals, green indicates safety while red warns of danger[3]. Scottie and Madeline are also complete opposites, and the traits associated by color to each of their characters imply that once the two were brought together, the outcome was beyond their control and determined by fate. Symbolizing fertility, healing, hope, and wealth, Madeline Elster’s color is the timeless Oxford green seen in high-end billiard clubs and classic Ralph Lauren clothing. Her green gown, as we establish her moral portrait at Ernie’s Restaurant, contrasts with the red brocade wallpaper of the set. Her classic car is green (and even the cushions she sits on at Scottie’s apartment) are her color. Closely related, Judy Barton’s green is of a dated 1960’s avocado, pea-soup variety; however, this olive green is the traditional color of peace, which explains Judy’s passive aggressive behavior towards Scottie’s proposed changes to her physical appearance. Further, after Scottie leaves her apartment, the actress looks directly at the camera, and the screen briefly flashes red (Scottie’s color), symbolizing the unholy union’s irreversibility. Even Judy’s life is sacrificed in accordance with green’s association with peace, as the protagonist drags the leading lady up the steps of the San Juan Batista church tower, from where she plummets to her death.
Nevertheless, analysis indicates that despite character traits implying fate’s will, external forces most certainly contribute to the disintegration of Scottie’s mental faculties. Would Scottie have gone mad had his balancing lady in green not been planted in an act of deception? While the extent of the protagonist's fall into madness may not have been fully intended (or of concern), the factors were carefully orchestrated and convincingly executed. Scottie’s former college acquaintance, Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore) married well, but he was evidently unsatisfied with the arrangement. Though Gavin portrays himself as a successful shipping industry businessman with a genuine concern for his wife, the villain needs a pawn for his homicidal high stakes game of insurance fraud. Reading about Scottie’s accident in the paper, Gavin becomes aware of the former detective’s ordeal and hires an actress to impersonate the real Madeline Elster. Cognizant that she has snared her prey, our leading lady travels to the flower shop, Mission Delores cemetery, an art museum, the McKittrick Hotel, and the Golden Gate Bridge Park in order to complete the façade of suicidal tendencies and spirit possession. She plunges into the bay and fulfills Scottie’s fantasy of saving a damsel in distress. Eventually, Scottie is lured (as instructed) to the staged suicide setting where his acrophobia is exploited; our protagonist cannot ascend the San Juan Batista bell tower stairs to see that two female forms (and one ambitious Gavin Elster) occupy the space. Scottie’s disability was played (as though he were merely a piece in a game) to allow the body of the real Madeline Elster to be unceremoniously flung from the tower in a mock suicide, thereby concealing her murder and exonerating Gavin from suspicion regarding his fraudulent insurance claim.
One wonders if Scottie would have lost his grip on reality had he never been involved in Gavin’s carefully planned scheme. Was Judy hired based on her resemblance to the painting, or was the painting a recent addition to the gallery? Was Gavin a San Francisco history aficionado, or was the real Madeline Elster truly the granddaughter of Carlotta Valdes? While the audience is not privy to Gavin’s planning or the possible “what if” occurrences Scottie’s character may have faced had he not responded to the villain’s call for assistance, we are able to infer that the subterfuge initiated to conceal the deceptive plot triggered the protagonist’s breakdown. Though any life event producing significant trauma and grief may have had the same effect of psychosis, witnessing the staged death of his newly acquainted beloved was more than the damaged character could tolerate. The protagonist was chosen to be an unknowing witness because of his fragility. This weakness facilitated Scottie’s ignorant testimony about Madeline’s mental instability, which was provided as intended in order to exonerate Gavin of any nefarious involvement with his wife’s death. Scottie’s disability was intentionally capitalized on by a man seeking his wife’s wealth. Does this indicate that the poor choices and questionable behavior were not Scottie’s fault but Gavin’s? Was Scottie only responding to external forces beyond his control, or did he have free will to use judgment and adhere to the ethical standards professional law enforcement positions require?
Despite any excuse one could provide about fate, external forces, weakness, or the lack of self-esteem causing poor judgment, Scottie’s behavior in Vertigo is glaringly unethical and completely inappropriate. After rescuing Madeline from the icy waters of San Francisco Bay, the former police detective foregoes procedure. Standard operating procedures (S.O.P.) are so ingrained in law enforcement personnel that they kick in automatically during any stressful situation. Yet, instead of driving to a medical facility for an unresponsive victim of hypothermia, Scottie not only takes Madeline to his own residence, but he strips of her of clothing and places her naked in his bed. What transpired while Madeline was unconscious remains for speculation, but one ponders the hypothetical latent passions released upon a helpless and unconscious female after she was clandestinely surveilled and undressed without permission by a stranger. Most assuredly, the color of Scottie’s sweater (Madeline’s green), worn in his apartment as Madeline awakens, implies that he no longer sees her as the wife of a client and former college acquaintance. Madeline has become his, whether she or Gavin acquiesces. Scottie’s unethical choices (in direct violation of law enforcement S.O.P.) couple with unknown implied and thoroughly inappropriate behavior during Madeline’s unconsciousness.
Had he been acting in a professional capacity, even as a favor to a friend, Scottie would (and should) have removed himself from the situation once he realized that his feelings for Madeline were becoming personal and could not be controlled. This lack of professionalism is also evident as he attempts to fill the role of psychotherapist for the allegedly possessed damsel in distress. In fact, had he actually been trained to provide the psychotherapeutic service he was offering when “Madeline” gazed off, Scottie would have recognized the onset of Countertransference, “which occurs when a therapist transfers emotions to a person in therapy.[4]” An example is when “an attractive patient is never challenged because the therapist desperately yearns to be liked.” This is likely why Scottie doesn’t openly question Madeline’s absurd pretenses[5]. He also medicates both Madeline and Judy on numerous occasions with shots of alcohol, as though he were a medical professional providing a diagnosis and prescription; we also witnessed this Renaissance-man and jack-of-all-trades mentality during Madeline’s hypothermia treatment. Medical doctor, psychologist, police detective, make-over artist, sugar daddy, and knight in shining armor; Scottie is everything a woman could want… until he inadvertently kills her.
            Root cause analysis indicates that Scottie’s fall into madness was a combination or alignment of three influencing factors. His aggressively dominant and emotionally charged character after the accident (symbolized by the color red) was predisposed by fate, or a series of events beyond his control, toward a balancing shade of green for peace, security, and submission. Yet, the protagonist was played like a pawn by Gavin Elster, a successful business man with knowledge of the required maneuvers necessary to accomplish a goal. However, Scottie’s fate was ultimately the result of his choices; he could have refused the surveillance job to ascertain Madeline’s whereabouts and actions. He could (and should) have taken her directly to a medical facility when she was unconsciousness with hypothermia. He could have also chosen to ignore the necklace (replicated from the painting of Carlotta Valdes and worn by Judy on their last dinner date) and lived a happy life with a devoted and completely submissive partner. Yet, the color Hitchcock associates with Scottie’s character indicates that the damaged police detective may have been doomed to succumb to emotion based on his psychological deficiency, thereby resulting in obsession, disconnection from reality, and withdraw from society. Nevertheless, a moral lesson is implied throughout the film with Scottie’s psychological deterioration; we may be predisposed toward abnormality, and our path may be influenced by external forces, but the first step is ours alone to make. Only a single step down the wrong path is needed before one is no longer able to turn back.



[1] Parker, Regina. “The Meaning of Colors.” OnCourse Indiana University. resources.oncourse.iu.edu/access/content/user/rreagan/Filemanager_Public_Files/meaningofcolors.htm. Accessed 29 Mar. 2017.
[3] Parker, Regina. “The Meaning of Colors.” OnCourse Indiana University. resources.oncourse.iu.edu/access/content/user/rreagan/Filemanager_Public_Files/meaningofcolors.htm. Accessed 29 Mar. 2017.
[4] “Countertransference.” GoodTherapy.org. goodtherapy.org/blog/psychpedia/countertransference. Accessed 29 Mar. 2017.
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No Cats in Solvay in Chaplin’s Modern Times

Solvay, a small village on the western edge of Syracuse, is a working class neighborhood with a disturbing urban legend. Austrian immigrants after WWI were rumored to utilize stray animals as a protein source, and “Children in the area were told not to eat a meal containing rabbit at an Austrian, Tyrolese or Piedmontese home, because the meat was really cat."[1] My husband’s late grandfather was a lifelong Solvay resident. He expounded on the urban legend by informing the family that immigrants may have started the practice after The Great War, but there were residents of all nationalities that ate whatever was available to survive during the depression; details were intentionally omitted with a wink. Between 1923 and 1939 (according to urban legend) there were no cats in Solvay. As a result of the October 1929 stock market crash, subsequent bank failures, and the affects of reduced consumer spending on manufactured goods, the “unemployment rate rose above 25%.” Drought conditions impacted American farmers, and though prices were reduced, affordable food was difficult to obtain.[2] Charles Chaplin’s Modern Times, released in 1936, targeted the painful and widespread socioeconomic issues of the age with humor and compassion, thereby easing the content’s delivery for audiences of the day. However, like a 1930’s Nostradamus, Chaplin’s vision (though exaggerated for comedic effect) of unrealistic employer expectations, unemployment, and hunger during the modern industrialized times of The Great Depression is eerily accurate in the post-millennial age. Both then and now, unofficial employer requirements on employees can be unrealistic and dehumanizing, unemployment is difficult to remedy and even more problematic to measure, and consistently empty bellies create a lifetime hunger difficult to sate.
Chaplin’s Modern Times opens with the metaphorical comparison between sheep being herded to probable slaughter and factory workers arriving for their shift. For food and perceived security, both animals and men blindly follow the being in front of them, unaware of (or disregarding) the possibility of exploitation or death at the hands of an authoritative power. Charley Chaplin, The Little Tramp, is the black sheep; he is different and cannot follow blindly indefinitely. Once inside the steel mill, the master switch is activated, the factory comes to life, and viewers see how little the steel company president actually does. However, his demands for increased productivity at employee expense become clear. After repetitive increases in production speed, Charley is finally able to take a break, but he is unable to cease the physically repetitive wrench cranking motion after clocking out. His bathroom break is interrupted when the back wall illuminates into a technologically advanced telepresence screen. Instead of enjoying a cigarette, Charley is ordered back to the manufacturing line. His disengaged attitude is evident as the comedian files his nails, makes fun of his co-worker, and comically procrastinates before returning to his post. He is then forced, like a guinea pig, to demonstrate a new automated feeding machine, which was designed to improve productivity by removing the need for employee lunch breaks. Mechanical failure causes the machine to feed Charley its own bolts, and it’s no surprise when the black sheep can take no more. When manufacturing speed is increased yet again, Charley cannot keep up and rides the conveyor belt to be sucked into the machine in what appears to be a deliberately submissive act of “if you can’t beat them, join them.” His sanity is fully lost by the time he is ejected from the gears; dancing and humor cannot repair the loss of productivity caused by the incident, nor can it save Charley’s job as he displays childlike and mentally unstable behavior. Charley has become a liability and has to go.        
Employer expectations since Charley turned wrenches on the manufacturing line during the depression have changed, but the message remains the same; I pay you, therefore I own you. While employees within unions are afforded some protection, those under an exempt or salary status (that do not qualify for overtime) have become the new work horses of the post-millennial age. Gone are the days of 9-5. Instead, salaried workers begin before the office opens and don’t quit when the office closes; holidays, weekends, vacations, after-hours, and overnights are no longer considered going above and beyond – it is expected that work is done whenever it arrives. “Deciding when, where, and how to be accessible for work is an ongoing challenge, particularly for executives with families… The pressures and demands on executives are intense, multidirectional, and unceasing.”[3] Metrics define success, bathroom breaks are interrupted with requests from the next stall, and the explanation of “bio break” is a standard response should a salaried employee inadvertently miss an unplanned call or office visit. Lunch may not be provided by a machine yet, but dedicated team players remain at their desks to catch up on emails during meal times. Disengagement, resentment, and animosity are battled but inevitable as employees are expected to sacrifice constantly. Even when behavior and performance surpass expectations, and employee awards are presented, there is always room for improvement; annual performance coaching is required in the corporate culture. Furthermore, extreme dedication still does not guarantee job security. Exempt employees in the post-millennial age have followed Charley into the machine.
While the post-millennial work force is affected by mergers, acquisitions, downsizing, and the export of jobs to other countries, Charley loses his employment with his sanity in the machine; FMLA was not signed into law until 1993, and the Tramp’s admission into a mental institution would have cost him his job.[4] Viewers of Modern Times are not provided with Charley’s back-story, and we can only assume that he has no family when he is unceremoniously dumped onto the street after being released from the asylum. Through sheer coincidence, he is sent to jail; unemployment, potential homelessness, and the widespread hunger that others experienced during The Great Depression were delayed while his sentence was served. After his reluctantly received release, Charley’s ever-present version of Murphy’s Law causes him to be fired from the shipyard. He then meets Gamin (the film’s leading lady) and joyfully accepts a return ticket to jail for her crime of stealing bread. Instead of another stay as a guest of the state, an accident occurs, and our duo makes their escape. Charley decides (after a pleasant suburban daydream with Gamin) that he will work to ensure they are able to afford the life and security they have seen in their imaginations. The job search begins, and the Tramp is briefly exposed to the awkward nature of working midnight shift; any job is better than no job when options are limited and the government is no longer footing the bill. Charley was lucky – until his unemployed former steel mill colleagues break in to the department store where he is working as night watchman. “By 1933 … some 13 to 15 million Americans were unemployed and nearly half of the country’s banks had failed.”[5] Comparatively, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics’ October 2016 report, unemployment rates fell 0.1 percent month over month to 4.9 percent.[6]U.S.Current Population Survey” was initiated because the government felt that counting each unemployed person monthly was “impractical.”[7] However, Americans have become notoriously finicky about answering inbound phone calls from numbers with unknown or unrecognizable caller IDs. In fact, experts blame caller ID on recent electoral polling failure.[8]  Furthermore, land line phones are nearly extinct, and cell phone numbers are unlisted in most cases. Per The New York Times, of the survey participants actually reached, only those “actively looking for work” are tallied; contacted individuals who gave up hope of finding employment are not included in unemployment statistics. This means that the labor market could actually be worsening while unemployment numbers remain flat or even decrease. [9] Consequently, the vital unemployment number (on which America judges our economic health) is obtained by an archaic method, is likely tinted in rose colored glass, and is almost certainly inaccurate. Economists therefore recommend that the monthly numbers be taken “with a grain of salt…”[10]
            Chaplin’s portrayal of food and feast throughout Modern Times seems metaphorical; tasty tidbits peppering the film seem to fill an unspecified but implied void within the characters. However, anyone who has known hunger for a prolonged period of time and filled an agonizingly empty belly with water, coffee, or whatever was available recognizes the imagery as literal. A 40 year old Charles Chaplin knew first hand what the poor and food insecure population faced when the stock market crashed in 1929. Born in 1889, the comedian and his brother were forced to fend for themselves after the illness and death of their parents.[11] Undoubtedly, his early years were imprinted with the precious nature of food that only deficiency can teach. Between 1923 and 1939, Americans were hungry; some joined convents, those like the Tramp willingly went to jail for a cot and a hot meal, and residents in Solvay allegedly ate cats. “Many families sought to cope by planting gardens, canning food, buying used bread…Despite a steep decline in food prices, many families did without milk or meat.”[12] When financial constraints occur, the quality and quantity of food purchased and consumed is often the first sacrifice. For the post-millennial population, steak and pizza are replaced with Ramen Noodles and canned tuna, but during the depression, the perception of food in America changed. The plethora of The Jazz Age morphed into every mother since yelling “Clean your plate! There are starving children in Africa!” Though American deaths from actual starvation during the depression were surprisingly low, malnutrition was common.[13] Chaplin’s idealistic daydream of a suburban home with fruit trees outside and a cow ready for milking says it all without a word of dialog; a surplus of healthy food within arms reach is nirvana. Charley and Gamin’s day dream is not metaphorical; it is the actual longing and desire of individuals who have been truly hungry beyond just skipping a meal or dieting. The frame of mind for those who have been truly hungry is forever altered; dreams are no longer of fortune and fame but of the food they can buy. Prolonged hunger is an experience that no one should endure but all should be aware of. Chaplin’s vision of a sustenance producing home indicates that he understood first hand the hunger experienced by audiences during the depression.
The American economy lost consciousness after 1929, and it remained comatose until the engines supporting World War II activated the economical defibrillator. Similarly, the post-millennial recession and housing crisis of the mid-2000s prompt today’s workers to tolerate unreasonable employer demands in order to prevent unemployment and subsequent poverty induced hunger. Since Charles Chaplin’s Modern Times was released, technological advances, social programs, and cultural changes have eased the affects of widespread socioeconomic issues. Nevertheless, Chaplin’s vision of an industrialized America remains accurate; unrealistic employer expectations continue, unemployment remains a problem, and hunger has not been alleviated. Though humor, self-depreciating slapstick, and exaggeration were delivery mechanisms, the message Chaplin relays in his last silent film is clear. You, the unemployed, hungry, underdog, and unlucky are not alone; this too shall pass. “Buck up - never say die. We’ll get along!”  


[1] Jesse. “There are not cats in Solvay but there are urban legends.” York Staters. Feb. 2006. yorkstaters.blogspot.com/2006/02/there-are-not-cats-in-solvay-but-there.html. Accessed 7 Nov. 2016.
[2] Kelly, Martin. “Top Five Causes of the Great Depression.” About Education. Aug. 2016. americanhistory.about.com/od/greatdepression/tp/greatdepression.htm. Accessed 7 Nov. 2016.

[3] Abrahams, Robin, and Boris Groysberg. “Manage Your Work, Manage Your Life.” Harvard Business Review.  Mar. 2014. hbr.org/2014/03/manage-your-work-manage-your-life. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016.
[4] “History of FMLA” Labor Law Center. www.laborlawcenter.com/education-center/history-of-fmla/. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016.
[5] “The Great Depression.” History.com. www.history.com/topics/great-depression. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016.
[6] “United States Unemployment Rate 1948-2016.” Trading Economics. www.tradingeconomics.com/united-states/unemployment-rate. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016.
[7] “Labor Force Statistics from the Current Population Survey.” United States Department of Labor, Bureau of Labor Statistics, 8 Oct. 2015. www.bls.gov/cps/cps_htgm.htm. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016.
[8] Cassino, Dan. “Why Pollsters Were Completely and Utterly Wrong.” Harvard Business Review. Nov. 2016. hbr.org/2016/11/why-pollsters-were-completely-and-utterly-wrong. Accessed 9 Nov. 2016.
[9] Leonhardt, David. “Unemployed, and Skewing the Picture.” The New York Times. Mar. 2008. www.nytimes.com/2008/03/05/business/05leonhardt.html. Accessed 7 Nov. 2016.
[10] Fox, Justin. “What’s Really Wrong With the Unemployment Rate.” Bloomberg View. Aug. 2016. www.bloomberg.com/view/articles/2016-08-10/what-s-really-wrong-with-the-unemployment-rate. Accessed 7 Nov. 2016.
[11] “Overview of His Life, Childhood.” Charlie Chaplin – Offiicial Website. www.charliechaplin.com/en/biography/articles/21-Overview-of-His-Life. Accessed 8, Nov. 2016.
[12] “The Human Toll.” Digital History. www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textbook.cfm?smtID=2&psid=3434. Accessed 12, Nov. 2016.
[13] “Americans React to the Great Depression.” Teacher Resources,­ Library of Congress. www.loc.gov/teachers/classroommaterials/presentationsandactivities/presentations/timeline/depwwii/depress/depress.html. Accessed 12 Nov. 2016.
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Scorsese’s Technological Time Machine

In Martin Scorsese’s award-winning family film Hugo,  the director masterfully manipulates visual representations of time-period technology in order to develop the story’s characters and relay the importance of balance between man and machine. Based on Brian Selznick’s novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret,  the fairytale for adults emphasizes both mankind’s increasing reliance on the mechanical and the result of man’s obsession with technology. Clocks, trains, and film itself link three characters’ pasts to the movie’s present, thereby creating a metaphorical time machine for the management of their grief and loss. Hugo (Asa Butterfield) relies on the station’s clocks for his vocation, and he obsesses over the automaton to compensate for the loss of his father; Gustave (Sacha Baron Cohen) depends on the order of train-station schedules and the confident authority that only policy and procedure can provide the war-wounded adult orphan; George Méliès (Ben Kingsley) denies film’s existence and the subsequent damage to his artistic pride when his work falls out of favor due to technological advances. The complicated relationships between mankind and mechanisms are explored as each character deals with personal loss; yet, the automaton acts as a compass throughout the film, directing Hugo, Gustave, and George to a future together where humanity and technology are beneficially balanced.
Time-period technological representations begin immediately as the film opens with the sound of a train and visual clockworks impressively dissolving into a city grid. As the tracking shot plummets, and the bird’s eye view descends through the maze of 1930’s Paris, Scorsese deftly navigates from the train yard and through station crowds before launching up to Hugo’s face hidden behind an analog clock’s number 4. The film’s use of analog clocks (with metallic cogs and wheels mechanically passing time) is Scorsese’s window into one of the film’s moralistic themes; observed by and felt most poignantly by young Hugo, 1930’s man depends upon clocks (wound by the unseen orphan) to direct life and its daily activities. Instead of survival, love, and acceptance (or even more specifically in Hugo’s case, sanctuary and vocational purpose) mankind has become obsessed with the time and schedules provided by technology. Hugo’s technological obsession differs in that he is seeking to rewind the clock by repairing the broken automaton in order to reunite, on some level, with his deceased father. This nearly obsessive desire for mechanical repair and / or advancement is a very human coping mechanism intended to reincarnate his tragically killed father. The boy simply must restore the automaton (based on the real-life creations of watchmaker and magician Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin[1]) so that an imagined message from his father, thought to have been hidden within the automaton’s gears, can be received. Hugo, spending his waking hours within the mechanical bowels of the train station clocks, desires above all else to return to a happier time in the past when he worked on the automaton with his father. His obsession with the device’s functionality causes him to disregard the risk of the Station Inspector’s wrath, the threat of capture, and the potential relocation to an orphanage. Hugo steals mechanical components from George Méliès' shop because the obsessive goal of being reunited (even metaphorically) with his father through the automaton justifies nearly any means necessary. While neither clocks nor the automaton can bring Hugo’s father back, parts from a mechanical mouse (stolen from Méliès' shop) may be the life-giving medicine able to restore the automaton and relay the hidden message as the orphan attempts to cope with personal loss. Scorsese also uses a pocket watch as a smaller, more child sized representation of time and Hugo’s dependence upon technology. Preceding Hugo’s nightmare, that precious link to the past is hung in a place of safety as the boy goes to sleep. Suddenly, when the watch is gone, time and reality disappear as Hugo transforms into the automaton. The metamorphosis from boy to machine can also been seen as man’s loss of humanity with the ever-increasing dependence on the mechanical.
The Station Inspector (Gustave) is also coping with trauma, is alone, and is searching for something greater than himself after being raised as an orphan. The loss of his leg’s full functionality during the war created a dependence on technology; the otherwise strapping man in apparent good health is forced to rely on a mechanical leg brace, which constantly locks and seizes at the most inopportune moments. His self-confidence is only attained through his official role, supported by policies and procedures, which are driven by schedules and technology. Gustave’s ironic relationship with technology is best displayed when the aforementioned leg brace becomes ensnared on a departing train. While comically portrayed, Scorsese takes Gustave back through time to the powerlessness of his life as an orphaned child: alone, afraid, embarrassed, and an outcast. In Hugo, and in turn-of-the century France, the steam engine’s integral role in society is apparent. Of the film’s mechanical representations (clocks, trains, and film), the mechanics of the railroad are symbolically presented as technological advancement, with the first comparison made by the Lumière Brothers' film Arrival of the Train in 1895. Paris began construction of the aforementioned rail system (Métro de Paris) in 1898, and the first line opened in July 1900[2]. Consequently, public transportation in the 1930s, when the film is set, was still a new innovation - taking citizens into the future by rail. The train’s relationship with Gustave again symbolizes forward momentum, and characters like the Station Inspector are dragged into the future whether they are willing or not. Gustave’s fate improves dramatically when he embraces the change. The first step is the shy official’s outreach to the train station’s flower seller. Meeting at the flower cart, Lisette and Gustave share stories of the past, and a bond is created as painful losses are shared; Gustave reveals the source of his leg injury, and Lisette shares that her brother was killed at Verdun. However, the greatest example of positive progress, when man and technology work in concert, occurs at Méliès’ after-party, once the recognition ceremony of the director’s filmmaking career has been completed. Not only is Gustave no longer lonely, as Lisette is by his side, but the tortuous leg brace has been replaced with a technologically advanced medical device created by Hugo; gears and cogs shift in a steam punk design that symbolize the Station Inspector’s arrival in the future. Meanwhile, George Méliès’ creation, the automaton, watches the festivities as a guest of honor after finally being repaired.  
As Hugo grieves his father, and Gustave laments his disability, George Méliès mourns for the loss of his art after falling into obscurity near the end of World War I. Technological advances created the ability to produce faster, cheaper, and less-labor intensive films. Méliès’ films, created as a labor of love with elaborately staged sets, hand-painted frames, stop-trick techniques, and fantasy-themed stories fell out of favor. To survive after a bankruptcy in 1913, the father of special effects sold “many of his 500-plus films to be melted down and made into boot heels.”[3] With the constant unrelenting forward movement of technology, accomplishments and innovations of the past were left behind, and a kiosk at Hugo’s train station was to be Méliès’ finale. However, granddaughter Isabelle and orphan Hugo have other plans, and they take Méliès back through time with the viewing of A Trip to the Moon, previously thought to have been lost. The automaton, previously revealed in a notebook discovered by Méliès while emptying Hugo’s pockets under suspicion of thievery, reminds the film-father of greater times and creative innovation. Mama Jeanne summarizes her spouse’s conflict with advancing technology, “Georges, you've tried to forget the past for so long, but it has caused you nothing but unhappiness. Maybe it's time you tried to remember.” Supported by friends and family, Méliès is able to find balance with the technology that provided so much creative joy to him before the war.
The importance of balance between man and machine connect 1930’s Paris with the modern age; clocks, trains, film, and the automaton remind us that schedules, modern transportation, smart phones, and avatars cannot replace life, vitality, or purpose. Technology can often be used to mask or cope with grief and loss, but only the human element can truly heal. Man is not a machine, and the film’s comparison of man to machine is as valid today as it was in the 1930’s. Various gadgets throughout Martin Scorsese’s Hugo symbolically allow three of the film’s most memorable characters to cope with grief and loss until they are brought together to find acceptance and peace. Scorsese, a connoisseur of film history, appropriately leaves us with the automaton’s image, combining technology and the shape of a man to reemphasize the moralistic theme relayed throughout our metaphorical time traveling adventures; when man and technology are balanced, the outcome is more likely to be harmonious.




[1] http://www.biography.com/people/robert-houdin-9344559#profile
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris_M%C3%A9tro#cite_note-france.fr-4
[3] http://cinema-scope.com/cinema-scope-online/the-re-invention-of-dreams-martin-scorseses-hugo/
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