ManTissa

Today I’m going to write about Mantissa. My favorite part of the book was in section two when Erato gains creative control of the story after Miles tried to humiliate her with his knowledge of literary theory;

“You can’t do this!”

Very slowly her head comes up.

“No Miles.”

“I’m in charge here.”

“Yes, Miles.”

“If you think anyone would believe this for a millionth of a second… I order you to replace that door.’ Her only answer is to recline against the pillows. ‘Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, Miles. I’m very stupid, but I have perfect hearing.”

“Then do what you’re told.”

Like I said in class, I found Mantissa to be a lot like that old Looney Tunes cartoon Duck Amuck in which Daffy Duck has conflicting interests with the author of the text. I also like it because in both the cartoon and Mantissaa the characters are self aware that they are in story. Anyways, this dialogue happens right after Miles Green finds that the door to his hospital room (which is the inside of his brain, which he arguable can’t leave anyways, but that’s a point for another post) missing because he took away the authority of the author function, which he had. As the author of his own text, he could create things like the ashtray and the purple bathrobe, but as soon as Miles and Erato seem to be on civil speaking terms, one of them messes up again. As soon as Miles manages to at least pretend to respect Erato, he starts going on about literary theories and how smart and smug he is. Erato sits patiently playing dumb as Miles digs his own grave, not realizing that the methodic rational way in which he explains his points doesn’t make up for the fact that the content of said points is undermining his ability to be in charge of his own story. Miles can’t go on about how traditional literary studies for over two thousand years are completely wrong and how the author and the text have no relation to one another anymore and that there isn’t even any point to writing serious fiction other than to prove how useless it is to even try without completely screwing himself over. He can’t have his cake and eat it too. Erato sits patiently as the power of the author is destroyed and the power of the reader is put into her hands, giving her the ability to remove Miles’ door, clothes, and self confidence.

I am presenting tomorrow on Mantissa with Max about Mantissa and feminism, and so far I have brought up one of those things. I feel that there is a ton of material through which one can do a feminist reading of Mantissa, and there is enough good evidence to prove that Mantissa is an anti-feminist text. A lot of what Max and I talked about focused around whether or not Erato existed outside of Miles Green, which as a muse/inspiration she of course does, but she is only the version of Erato to Miles, for Miles. At the end of the book when Erato returns to her shape as Dr. Delfie, it could be argued that this is the form that she takes when Miles is out of the picture, this is her true form, uncompromised by what Miles consciously wills her to be. On the other hand, Miles is still in the picture, he is merely unconscious, and perhaps this is the Dr. Delfie of his unconscious, affecting him in unknown unknowable Lacanian psychoanalytic ways. But now I’m talking about Lacan, not feminism. Oh well, I guess you’ll just have to come to class tomorrow to hear what I’ve got to say about that.

Removing the Kane from Citizen Kane

My essay is going to be a deconstructionist reading if Citizen Kane in which I consider the character Charles Foster Kane to be the “centre” of the text. Charles Kane, or the idea of Charles Kane, is never reached, nor is he/it reachable; he/it acts as a decentered center to the text. Because he (or at least any real knowledge about him) is unobtainable by means of the very structure of the narrative, interviews and personal accounts, neither the audience nor any of the film’s characters ever actually gain access to whatever the “real” Charles Kane is, therefore meaning in the text is unfixed and open to infinite interpretations.

Okay. Now that I got that out of the way, I can explain what that means. For anybody who hasn’t seen Citizen Kane yet, you should check it out. I am willing to lend my DVD to anyone who is interested for a small fee, because I need access to the text more than anyone else right now and I need the money. Unless there’s actually someone else in our class who is doing some kind of reading of Citizen Kane, in which I think we should talk or something. Any who, Kane is the story of a newspaper tycoon who’s rise and fall to power is told through the disjoined non-linear narratives of a bunch of people who knew him; his friends, his ex-wife, his ex-guardian, and his butler. The creative parts of the story come about through both Orson Well’s own cleverness, but primarily through the ways in which each recollection is affected by how they felt about Kane and what period of his life they remember him most for. The people who liked him (Bernstein) talk about the height of his youth, which happens to coincide with when he was a good person, the people who didn’t like him (his ex-wife Susan) tell when he was older, uglier, and reduced to nothing more than an oversized bully locked away in a playground of his own creation. The language, lighting, and images of each version of Kane are unique and crafted with a purpose; to convey Kane in very specific ways as he changes physically and emotionally.

I like Citizen Kane because its one of the first films I ever had explained to me by a film teacher the way that films are supposed to be explained by a film teacher; take the text apart piece by piece and examine each in relation to one another and the whole. Don’t just look at lighting and costumes, look at how they interact with each other, with the other elements of the film (camera movement, acting maybe), and most important of all, why are they the way they are. This was what intrigued me most, because my first few viewings of Kane were the first time I’d ever thought of film elements being executed for a reason, and the sum of those reasons could bring meaning. I know this may sound like really obvious stuff to most of you reading this, but to a 7^th grader who’s just figured out that you should have a character wear a long black coat and a shroud over his face not just because you think it looks cool, but because it conveys visual elements of a character that can be expanded on or detracted from. In short, the more thought you put into a film, the more your sound and vision work together and convey thought out meanings, the better your movie will be (hopefully). The beauty of Kane is the combination of these elements combined for reasons, and each of these reasons were decided upon by Wells meticulously.

The idea that Orson Well’s very specific meticulously crafted ideas of what Citizen Kane is supposed to be about, the reasons he made the film, can be completely torn apart by deconstructive criticism, and an infinite number of interpretations, an infinite number of reasons, seemed really cool to me. With that being said,

Orson Wells.