We still talk of film and television as two completely separate media. However, especially when it comes to fiction, films and television series, we might be better of if we started talking about different forms and genres within the greater category of the audiovisual arts. Cinematic institutions have a longer history than television, and they have for a long time been connected to the cinema. Television started in the home, and was for a long time in different forms connected to a linear schedule. Public service in Europe and commercial tv in USA. The two media had something in common. To go to the movies meant picking what was available in a cinema near you, at a specific time. To watch television, you depended on what a particular channel offered on a particular day and time. In the multiplaform era after 2000, much of this has changed, and film and television are now available side by side on both the traditional platforms and a lot of new ones. The possibilities of the viewer to choose has increased – but so has the power of global multinationals.

Challenging our traditional understanding of television

This global and technological change of our television landscape is in focus in Andreas Halskov’s insighful and very interesting new book Beyond Television. TV Production in the Multiplatform Era (2021). It is a rich analysis of changes in both the institutional development, the television production culture, and perhaps most strongly in traditional genres, storytelling and style. In his own words, the central argument in the book is:

It is a central argument in the book that modern TV series often challenge traditional understandings of television, moving beyond traditional stylistic choices, traditional modes of storytelling and conventional genres and formats, yet they still have a serialized structure and, in different ways, adhere to televisual conventions (…) The study focuses on productional, narrative and aesthetic aspects, and although it gives preliminary account of the modern TV landscape (…) it is not a technical study of interfaces, distribution and media infrastructures (Halskov 2021: 14).

Halskov also takes us on a historical tour through some of the major changes in especially American television. This is great, because often we find that books dealing with the present and with dramatic shifts tend to forget, that media history is in fact often based on a series previous historical changes. As Halskov rightly points out, we find at least three interesting golden ages or golden shifts in American television history: the era of television theatre in the 1940s and 1950s; the era of quality television series in the 1980s and early 1990s; and finally the cable revolution from the late 1990s. HBO is a frontrunner in this development, leading to today’s streaming culture. The slogan “It’s not television, it’s HBO, signals a liberation from commercials, the posssibility of targeting a paying, quality minded audience.

It’s not television, it’s HBO

Halskov does not directly deal with film or European television, but he points to a certain creative merging between those working in film and television as film directors like Michael Mann and David Lynch started working in television. We see the same tendency in the international Danish breakthrough on television, when Lars von Trier made The Kingdom (1994) and a much deeper creative  merger between film and television took place, when the international Danish wave started after 2000. Rainer Werner Fassbinder in Germany and Krzysztof Kieslowski in Poland are examples of the same development. In the UK, a writer like Dennis Potter already in the 1970s decided that TV was the most appropriate medium for adressing modern mass audiences. He certainly did that in a challenging way in for instance The Singing Detective (1986, see Bondebjerg 2018).

Halskov’s analysis of the transformation of American television series is a story of how a formulaic, commercial TV culture started to reform itself and develop into a much more complex and innovative art form. Somewhere during this development tv started to become almost the leeading creative platform for audiovisual art. In the late 1990s we see a much stronger interaction between film and television, and between mainstream narratives and complex, innovative narratives. Television has moved from a very low status in the cultural hierarchy. Cinema has gone through a similar historical development. The two media are now entering this new multiplatform era on a more equal level.

The art of making television series

Even though Halskov’s book has a lot of really interesting data and insights into the industry and technology of the new form of television, the most valuable in his book is going deep into the industry as a creative field. This includes really useful interviews with a lot of central players behind the American television revolution: David Chase (The Sopranos), David Simon (The Wire), Mark Frost (Twin Peaks), Nic Pizzolatto (True Detective), just to mention a few.

The Norwegian series Beforeigners (2019) illustrate the local-global trend.

The book also has a most interesting focus on local/global and transnational/glocal, dealing with the fact that globalisation doesn’t simply equal homoneginisation.  This section includes an interview with the two Norwegians Bjørnstad and Skodvin, who made the first Norwegian series with HBO, Beforeigners (following the success of Lilyhammar). This link between global and local is also the theme of the interview with Kelly Luegenbiehl, the vice-president of Netflix’s local language originals.

Halskov is a brilliant television analyst himself, and the book has some really outstanding analyses of some of the key series behind the television revolution. But it adds to the book’s quality that Halskovs own analyses integrate observations and creative statements from central TV writers and directors. The concept of transnational television in the book is thus a rather fine tuned complex concept:

  • cross-border mobility of tv-content, talents and formats

  • interaction of broadcasters, regulators and institutions

  • cosmopolitanization of tv audiences, styles and viewing habits

What globalization doesn’t necessarily means is a return to a new way of finding the lowest common denominator. Halskov shows us the result af remakes, but also the fact that original series actually travel, and that transnational audiences can develop into viewers that accept things that differ from their own national content formats. The Bridge and Skam are examples of both remakes and original transnational distribution. Taking up the effects of transnational reception, Halskov’s book also underlines the findings behind ‘mediated cultural encounters’ brought forward by the MeCETES project Transnational European Television Drama (Bondebjerg et. al. 2017), or in studies of how Danish and other national TV series actually make an impact in global television, for instance Danish Television Drama. Global Lessons from a Small Nation (Waade, Redvall  & Jensen, eds. 2020)

Maybe there is an air of hopeful optimism in the book – but it is also based on facts and actual tendencvies. Halskov argues not just for the creative complexity of global and local, but also for the broader breakthrough of what he calls complex and even polycentric storytelling. Taking Thrisha Dunleavy’s book Complex Serial Drama and Multiplatform Television (2018) as a starting point, he expands it further into an eight point definition of narrative complexity:

  • Ambiguity and uncertainty
  • Subjective narration and shifting points of view
  • Non-linearity
  • Cumulative plots and vast narrative memory
  • Long arcs and lack of redundancy
  • Fragmentation and lack of causality
  • Large ensembles and polycenric stories
  • Multi-layered narratives including multiple settings, realsm and/or timelines

In many ways this description of modern television narratives describes forms that have long been known in film and litterature. However, the specific dimension of TV narratives is the ability to develop very long and very complex stories. Not just through season episodes but over many seasons. Still, many of the usual avantgarde techniques seem to have been established more broadly in series that are more broadly accepted by new audiences. At least, this was the main points in HBO’s  reach for global audiences. Public service in Europe, we could argue, has always been about the meeting between the advanced and complex and the mainstream, and we have historically seen this as an alternative to commercial, American dominance. Is this main narrative still quite valid? HBO, Neflix and other streaming services seem more difficult to place in such a dichotomy: here mainstream and innovative forms of audiovisual art seem to meet and influence each other.

Global and national aspects of the audiovisual arts

As already noted, Halskov’s book is mostly about the development of post-2000 American television. However there are many references to national and European  tendencies and cases within the new structure of multiplatform TV. This has to do with the fact that we see similar tendencies in Europe and that the global streaming services are also clearly interested in taking in local productions and thus establish a firm link between a global reach and a regional, national grounding. The global here is to a very large degree still US dominated in film and TV series, but transnational, creative collaboration is also an important tendency. Suddenly it seams that the big global players have shifted strategy towards and integration of local-national products.

It was in the beginning of the rise of globalisation and digitalisation quite common to find books annd articles talking about ‘disruption’, a fundamental change of film and television. Halskov is not taking that position. Even though he talks about fundamental changes, he also stresses the continuity. Film is still film, TV is still TV, although we find all genres and media mixed on the global streaming services. The new forms of globalisation and rise of platforms for audiovisual arts have on the other hand facilitated creative transnational and transmedia collaboration. As Halskov points out in his epilogue, there is planty of talk about the cinematization of telvision, the merging of creative talents and format.

However, looking at both the American and European landscape, it is far too early to declare the death of film and television culture as we know it. One of the lessons from media history studies is that changes rarely kill of old media. It is more likely that the old media will adapt to new situations and technological possibilities. HBO is still a cable TV station in the USA and atv the same time a global streaming service and producer on the rise. In Europe the old public service stations are working hard to find a new place in a changing media world. They are in no way dead or dying. BBC and DR for instance, are both central players in the production and distribution of  film and TV-series, and they are developing into central national streaming services. The national is not dying in our media cultures because of globalisation, they are probably more important that ever in the mixing of global and local.

Andreas Halskov has written a very timely and important book. He gives us a facsinating and deep look into the American-global creative media industries, and by doing that he contributes to the ungoing political media debate. His optimism and passion for the new forms of TV narratives is paired with realism and works against more gloomy perspectives on globalisation. His book brings us into a fascinating new world of TV narratives, and into the creative minds of many of the people that have created a new more diverse and complex way of telling stories on TV. It is a book about American TV, but it is of great importance for the understanding of also national TV cultures in Europe.

References

Andreas Halskov (2021). Beyond Television. TV production in the Multiplatform Era. University of Soutnern Denmark.

Anne Marit Waade, Eva Novrup Redvall & Pia Majbritt Jensen (eds. 2020). Danish Television Drama. Global Lessons from a Small Nation. Palgrave European Film and Media Studies.

Ib Bondebjerg et. al. (2017). Transnational European Television Drama. Production, Genres and Audiences.Palgrave European Film and Media Studies.

Ib Bondebjerg (2018 [1993]). Elektroniske fiktioner. TV som fortællende medie. Lindhardt & Ringhof, E-bog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I januar 1957, hvor kun 48.162 danskere havde fået fjernsyn, offentliggjorde Politiken i deres tillæg Lyt- Politikens radio og tv-tillæg, hvad de betegnede som den første tv-seerundersøgelse i Danmark.  Den baserer sig på en undersøgelse af de 600 tv-seere, der på det tidspunkt var registreret i Århus. Det er sprogligt meget signifikant, at tillægget hedder Lyt, og at betegnelsen for tv-seere på det her tidspunkt var kikkelyttere. Det var radioen, der var det centrale medie, og ordet kikkelyttere antyder, at det mere visuelle endnu ikke var slået igennem sprogligt. Undersøgelsen af de århusianske kikkelyttere viser ikke overraskende, at det er direktører, fabrikanter, håndværksmestre, selvstændige forretningsindehaver og liberale erhverv, der først har skaffet sig tv. Det er også meget tydeligt, at man ser stort set alt på tv. Der sendes ikke så mange timer om dagen, og man skal have det hele med.

 

Den pågældende uge er der nyheder (Aktuelt) i 10 minutter hver dag, undtagen søndag. Der sendes børne-tv mandag, tirsdag, torsdag og fredag (For de mindste og Børnetime). Der sendes en del fakta-programmer: f.eks. om natur og dyr (Alt om dyr, Lieberkind), historie (Verdenskrigen 1914-18, amerikansk dokumentar), debat-programmer (Stævnemøde i studiet), kunst (Levende marmor), og videnskab (Nyt fra videnskaben). Men der sendes også underholdning og tv-drama. Det første er der kun et eksempel på, nemlig det brogede underholdningsprogram om lørdagen Cirkus Variete. Samtidig etableres allerede her i 1957 et samspil mellem original dansk tv-dramatik og importeret, udenlandsk dramatik. Siden omtrent tv-mediets start i Danmark har søndag kl. 20 været det faste slot for dansk tv-drama. Det gælder også her, hvor De treogtyve dage, en dramatisering af Eleonoras Jammersminde genudsendes. Fredag aften kan seerne til gengæld muntre sig med engelsk krimi, Fabian fra Scotland Yard.

Teknologiske fremtidsvisioner

Der var nok ikke så mange, der i 1957 kunne forestille sig fremtiden for tv, selvom amerikansk og engelsk tv var længere fremme. Men den navnkundige tv- og radio-mand Jimmy Stahr (1935-2017) forsøgte sig i 1972 med at se ud i fremtiden i en lille artikel med titlen “Radio og fjernsyn år 2000” (Stahr 1972). Det var længe før mionopolbruddet i 1988, og før den grundlæggende digitalisering af tv. Den starter med at referere fra et stort radio- og tv-møde i Warszawa i 1956, hvor man diskuterede globalisering af medierne via satellitter. Emnet forekom imidlertid deltagerne så futuristisk og usandsynligt, så det hurtigt blev taget af dagsordenen.

Men året efter sendte russerne deres første Sputnik op og 6 år senere i 1962 var den amerikanske Telstar satellit starten på global transmission af sport, underholdning, Månelanding osv. 13 år efter Warszawa-mødet var teknologien til at gøre tv-mediet til et synkront globalt medie altså allerede meget fremskredet. I resten af den korte artikel forsøger Jimmy Stahr at spå om de næste 30 år: farve-fjernsyn, føle-fjernsyn, stereofoni, chips indbygget i huden eller i ure, tredimensionalt tv i stuen. Fascinationen over hvad teknologien formodentlig vil kunne, den mikroteknologiske revolution, muligheden for at nå alle globalt på samme tid og valgfriheden mellem hundredvis af programmer går hånd i hånd med en vis angst for misbrug og kontrol.

Fra nationalt til grænseløst tv-drama

Det tidlige danske tv-drama var meget langt fra det vi har i dag. Som jeg har beskrevet det i min bog Elektroniske fiktioner. TV som fortællende medie (1993, genudgivet 2018) var tv-drama i 1950’erne og de tidlige 60’ere præget af en stærk afhængighed af teater og litteratur, mens filmens måde at fortælle på ikke blev anset som særlig egnet til tv. Der var også en meget stærkere modsætning mellem populærkultur og elitekultur, og der var i den etablerede kultur en frygt for, at tv ville fører til kulturel forfladigelse. Der opstod tidligt en slags kløft mellem TV-teaterafdelingen og Underholdningsafdelingen. Ganske vist var både Felix Nørgaard og Bjørn Lense-Møller, som stod for den tv-dramatiske linje i den tidlige periode opmærksomme på, at tv-dramatikken skulle rumme en pluralisme af klassikere, realisme og det moderne, og de var også optaget af at skabe en original tv-dramatik. Felix Nørgaard talte endda lidt vagt om “en dramatik, der måske ikke er folkelig i gængs betydning, men som måske er det i ordets dybeste betydning” (Nørgaard 1962, citeret i Bondebjerg 1993: 79).

Udviklingen i den tidlige tv-dramatik før 1995 er beskrevet ganske udførligt ikke bare i min bog, men også i John Christian Jørgensens (red. 1976) TV-teatret. Kunst, teknik og historie,  og med vægt på gennembruddet for en ny, original tv-dramatik i Peder Grøngaards Det Danske TV-spil (1988). Samtidig er Eva Novrup Redval den der måske mest indgående har beskrevet forudsætningerne for og konsekvenserne af  den afgørende produktionsrevolution i 1990’erne, som første til dansk tv-dramatiks internationale gennembrud (se Eva Novrup Redvall (2013). Writing and Producing Television Drama in Denmark. From The Kingdom to The Killing). Gunhild Aggers to vægtige værker om dansk tv-dramatik, disputatsen Dansk tv-drama. Arvesølv og Underholdning (2005) og den nye Det grænseløse tv-drama. Danskhed og transnationalitet (2020), bygger videre på denne forskning i forhistorien, og bringer samtidig på fornemste vis udviklingen op til i dag.

Som både min egen bog og Eva Novrups bog viser, konstaterer også Gunhild Agger, især i sin seneste bog, at dansk tv og tv-dramatik altid har været både national og transnational. Selvom dansk tv-dramatik i perioden før 1990 ikke var international eller transnational i betydningen produceret via international co-produktion eller distribueret vidt udenfor Danmark og Skandinavien, var dansk tv fra starten inspireret af internationale genrer. Desuden var programudbuddet en stor blanding af nationalt og internationalt.

Som allerede den omtalte tv-uge i 1957 viser, så supplerede udenlandsk tv-dramatik den danske egenproduktion. Ja ikke bare det, den blev meget hurtigt stærkt dominerende på programfladen. Ligesom med filmkulturen i Danmark var også tv-kulturen amerikansk-engelsk, og kun i mindre omfang skandinavisk-europæisk. De danske kikkelyttere og tv-seere, som de snart kom til at hedde, var vænnet til at se meget mere udenlandsk tv-dramatik og tv-serier. Hvor den nationale produktion til at begynde med var enkeltspil og ret teater-litteraturprægede, så så de masser af spændende og underholdende tv-serier fra USA og Englands især.

TV-dramatik på kulturkløftens skarpe kant

Når man kigger på den registrant over dansk TV-teater fra 1951-1975, som Marguerite Jeppesen har lavet  (Jeppesen 1976, i John Christian Jørgensen (red. 1976: 124f), så slår det en, hvor stor en rolle Gabriel Axel spillede, og hvor meget man gik efter det klassiske danske teaterrepertoire. Det er et kendt fænomen i mediehistorien, at et nyt medie ofte fødes ved at imitere de etablerede. Repertoiret omfatter ikke bare klassisk dansk teater og litteratur, men også udenlandsk, og efterhånden kommer mere moderne ting til. Fra omkring 1960 kan man se den føreste markante ændring. Instruktører og forfattere fra den nye bølge i dansk film kommer på banen: Palle Kjærulff-Schmidt og Klaus Rifbjerg f.eks. Omkring 1963-64 slår en ny original dansk tv-dramatik igennem.

Leif Panduros En af dagene (1963) varsler Panduros korte men centrale indsats, som går på tværs af kløften mellem populærkultur og elitekultur. Han starter i modernism, udvikler de tv-dramaer, som fra Farvel Thomas (1968) for første gang nagler et stort dansk publikum til skærmen. Danskerne ser ind i deres velfærdsvirkelighed, hvor både psykologiske og sociale konflikter gnaver. Selvom det er Henning Ipsen og Gabriel Axel, der har æren af at skabe den første danske tv-serie, Regnvejr og ingen penge 1-4 (1965), er det Panduro der også på det punkt afgørende gør de populærkulturelle tv-serier salonfæhige i TV-teater-afdelingen. Med Ka’ de li’ østers 1-6 (1967) og Smuglerne 1-6 (1970) grundlægger han en glorværdig dansk version af en stærk international tv-genre, som efter 2000 skulle sætte dansk tv på den internationale scene.

Den danske tv-dramatiks udvikling i perioden fra 1951-1975 er en del af en ikke bare dansk men også europæisk kulturkamp: kampen mellem de nye massemedier radio, film, tv og den mere etablerede kultur (litteratur, malerkunst, teater, klassisk musik osv.) For en stor del af kultureliten i denne periode blev massemedierne opfattet som en trussel, ikke som en mulighed. Billedet af kikkelytteren syntes at være et billede af en dvask person som bare ønskede at svømme hen på sofaen til fladpandet underholdning. Bare det at DR’s radiokanaler i den periode gik fra 1-3 kanaler skabte furore, fordi valgfriheden i sig selv blev set som en fare (Bondebjerg 1993, s. 27ff). Set i historiens lys var debatten helt ude af proportioner, for hele den danske kulturpolitik hviler på et princip om pluralisme og mangfoldighed, altså grundlæggende en alliance mellem populærkultur og elitekultur.

Fra 1960’erne og frem ser vi derfor også en gradvis og grundlæggende ændring i tilgangen til og opfattelsen af den danske tv-dramatik. Det er en udvikling som også finder sted i lyset af den transnationalisering, som Gunhild Agger har taget op i sin nye bog Det grænseløse tv-drama. Danskhed og transnationalitet. Den er allerede indvarslet i min bog fra 1993, som netop analyserer TV-dramaets udvikling i et konsekvent komparativt perspektiv med engelsk, tysk og amerikansk TV-dramatik. Men Gunhild Agger analyserer udviklingen fra 90’erne og helt op til i dag. Bogen er en guldgrube af analyser, data og perspektiver på dansk tv-drama i en transnational kontekst.

Transnationaliseringen af dansk tv-dramatik har, som allerede påpeget, været der fra starten: programfladen har altid været præget af lidt dansk tv-dramatik og meget udenlandsk. Seeren har altid stået i en transnational valgsituation. De har set klart mest udenlansk tv-dramatik, men det er også tydeligt, at danskerne foretrækker dansk tv-dramatik, når det foreligger. Det samme gælder for alle andre europæiske lande.  Men seerkulturens transnationale karakter og præferencer får i løbet af 1990’erne en ny dimension, fordi produktionskulturen nu også får en klarere transnational karakter, og fordi selve begrebet om tv-kanaler, tv-pakker og måder at se tv på ændrer sig. TV-seningen bliver individualiseret, som meget af kulturtilbuddet allerede længe har været.

Dansk tv-drama på den internationale scene

Man kan beskrive den danske tv-dramatik fra starten til i dag som dybt forankret i både en dansk og en udenlandsk tradition. Den udenlandske tradition og dens genrer er noget der inspirerer den danske tv-dramatik og de danske serier, men de tilføres nationale og lokale temaer og æstetiske variationer. Jeg har i min bog fra 1993 prøvet at beskrive det historiske opspil til den internationale forandring af det danske tv-drama som et samspil mellem Panduro-formlen og Ballling-formlen. På en måde varsler de to formlers indflydelse også det øgede samspil mellem tv-miljøet og film-miljøet. Panduro og hans forskellige instruktører repræsenterer både  den danske nybølge og dermed en dansk version af den europæiske nybølgefilm. Balling er Nordisk films sikre succes-mager, når det drejer sig om komedier, som f.eks. den uhyre populære Huset på Christianshavn (84 episoder 1970-1977) og naturligvis også dansk tv’s udødelige historiske dramaserie Matador (1978-1980). Til gengæld var det jo Panduro, der krydsede grænsen til den mere seriøse, populære krimigenre.

Men forholdet mellem den danske og den udenlandske tv-dramatik kunne endnu før 1980 også antage karakter af stærk konflikt. Trods det faktum at dansk tv siden  1951 i den grad havde dyrket udenlandske tv-serier, og dansk tv’s egne produtioner jo ikke er opstået af sig selv men netop af det kreative samspil henover grænserne, kom chefen for TV-teatret Bjørn Lense-Møller i modvind omkring den amerikanske tv-serie Holocaust (1978, se Bondebjerg 1993: 313f.). Serien havde allerede været vist i flere europæiske lande, men Lense-Møller udtalte, at den ikke ville blive sendt i Danmark, fordi den ikke levede op til de kunstneriske krav DR stillede. En voldsom presse- og seerstorm fulgte, og Lense-Møller bøjede sig. Men med den tilføjelse, at der så skulle være debat i studiet bagefter. Hændelsen er karakteristisk for den kultur- og tv-debat som herskede før monopolbruddet i 1988. Kulturkløftens knivskarpe æg kunne stadig ses og mærkes, måske især, når der var tale om amerikanske serier.

Men i løbet af 1990’erne begyndte gamle modsætninger at gå i opløsning. Monopolbruddet blev en realitet, og vejen til en langt større mangfoldighed af danske og udenlandske tv-kanaler begyndte. I enden af den udvikling ligger et endnu større skifte, skiftet fra traditionelle flow-kanaler til streaming. Det interessante her er ikke så meget teknologien, det handler om at seeren pludselig bliver konge på en helt ny måde. Vi ser ikke bare tv skabt af en hær af programlæggere, som prøver at skabe det helt rette mix til den danske seer-familie. Nu er det i vid udstrækning seeren som selv bestemmer hvad vedkommende vil se, hvornår og på hvilken platform. Men indtil videre viser erfaringen, at f.eks. tv-dramatik stadig har en tendens til at blive set kollektivt synkront, med forskellige forskydninger. Den fælles oplevelse trækker stadig.

Denne teknologiske forandring er kun det ene element i en større forandring. Den anden handler om internationaliseringen af den danske mediekultur – eller måske snarere europæiseringen. Men det handler også om et stigende samarbejde mellem de kreative kræfter på tværs af film og tv-branchen (Novrup Redvall  2013: 55f).  Det betød også, at den mistillid man ser i den hidtidige tv-kultur, mod genreformater med udenlandske rødder forsvinder. Taxa (1997-99) var måske den første produktion, hvor man tog et genreformat med stærke udenlandske rødder og fyldte det med dansk virkelighed og en særlig kreativ kvalitetsfilosofi. TV2’s samtidige Strisser på Samsø bekræfter tendensen, og tilføjer den en en lokal regional dimension. 1960’ernes tv-dramatik var båret af ideen om det originale, danske tv-spil – helst specifikt og anderledes nationalt. Men det vi ser udvikle sig i dansk tv-kultur efter 1990 er en stærk tv-serietradition, som både formår at bruge udenlandsk inspiration og genreformater og alligevel give dem en lokal og national toning.

Det grænseløse tv-drama

Siden sin vægtige disputats Dansk tv-drama. Arvesølv og underholdning (2005) har Gunhild Agger sat sig tungt på den nyere forskning i dansk tv-dramatik. Allerede i disputatsen er hun optaget forholdet mellem national identitet og den interkulturelle dialog. Det gør hun ikke primært ud fra angsten for den internationale konkurrence, selvom hun tidligt i bogen (Agger 2005: 47) peger på den bekymring, som ofte præger mediepolitikken på dette område. Hun gennemgår her systematisk forskellige opfattelser af national identitet og globalisering og mediernes og tv-dramatikken rolle i denne dialog mellem det nationale og det transnationale. Hendes konklusion er faktisk:

Det er kun muligt at forholde sig til det nationale, det lokale og det regionale ved også at forholde sig til det internationale og transnationale niveau (…) I den sammenhæng er fjernsynet faktisk et mødested af dimensioner (Agger 2005: 80)

Lidt polemisk kunne man med god ret sige, at det moderne tv-drama, som vi danskere oplever i det rum vi befinder os i både rummer tilbud om at blive konfronteret med billeder af vores forestillede nationale fælleskaber og i lige så høj grad af en række forestillede transnationale fællesskaber. Som den københavnske forskergruppe i projektet Mediating Cultural Encounters Through European Screens (2013-2016) har dokumenteret i bogen Transnational European Television Drama. Production, Genres and Audiences (Bondebjerg et. al. 2017), er dansk tv-drama siden 1990’erne i meget høj grad produceret igennem et skandinavisk-tysk samarbejde. Det har bragt dansk tv-drama ud i hele Europa og USA (Forbrydelsen, Borgen, Broen, 1864 bl.a.). Det transnationale kreative samarbejde øger samspillet mellem det nationale og det transnationale. Samtidig betyder det, at europæerne ser sig selv i forhold til dansk tv-drama, ligesom danskerne altid har set sig selv i forhold til europæisk-amerikansk tv-drama. Der er tale om centrale om vigtige kulturmøder, der fremmer den transnationale forståelse.

Det er i høj grad den pointe Gunhild Agger tydeliggør og udbygger i sin seneste bog Det grænseløse tv-drama. Danskhed og transnationalitet. Den 500 siders moppedreng er en guldgrube af oversigter og indsigter, af analyser af tv-kulturens udvikling og de centrale tv-dramatiske genrer. Alene den minutiøse registrant over dansk tv-drama 1998-2016 fordelt på genrer og med det kreative hold kortlagt sammen med ratings og vurdering er en gave for videre forskning. Sådanne oplysninger er selv i vores dage svære at se samlet på et sted så overskueligt.

Men det er naturligvis de grundige analyser af centrale genrer som krimi og dansk noir, politisk drama, familie- og melodrama og historisk drama, der er det centrale. Og så får vi også lystige tillæg om julekalendere og komedie og satire. En styrke er det også, at den mediepolitiske kontekst trækkes historisk op, helt frem til den nuværende debat i lyset af de store streaming-tjenesters ankomst til den danske virkelighed.

En af de vigtige pointer Agger trækker frem er, at forestillingen om at producere Danmarksbilleder for danskerne via tv-dramatikken er under forvandling. Det er stadig Danmarksbilleder, men af et Danmark som rummer en større kulturel og etnisk blanding, et Danmark som i høj grad er indskrevet i Europa og den globale virkelighed. Derfor var også den snævre borgerlige Medieaftale 2019-2023 så dybt problematisk. Den søgte, som Agger klart peger på, både at stække DRs råderum og helt generelt. Den søgte at reducere public service til noget langt snævrere både nationalt og i forhold til genrer. Aftalen er simpelthen i modstrid med den udfordring dansk tv og tv-drama står overfor.

Som noget relativt nyt i Gunhild Aggers forskning arbejder hun også med store datamængder, også om genrer. Hun viser f.eks. nedenstående graf som synes at antyde at danskerne er mest optaget af nationalt tv-drama med fokus på historie, på politik og på familie-melodrama.

Det tyder jo på, at den internationalt inspirerede form for dansk tv-drama i høj grad leverer public service kvalitet til danskerne over en bred kam. Den nye bølge af ganske gruppe realistiske dramaer lægger yderligere dimensioner til et nyt Danmarksbillede i en global tid.

Oversigten viser desuden generelt at dansk tv-drama stadig klarer sig særdeles godt i konkurrence med NETFLIX, HBO og alle de andre streamingtjenester. Selvom dansk tv-drama i stor udstrækning bliver set på en mere individualiseret måde, er genren stadig en national fælleskabsgenre. Eller som Agger formulerer det: et fællesrum, et fælles debatforum og et fælles erindringsforråd.

Omvendt kan vi se – og det gælder ikke bare for dansk tv-drama, men europæisk generelt – at når europæisk drama eksporteres til andre lande, så ender det ofte som mere nicheprægede indslag. Læren er altså, at selvom udbredelsen af dansk drama i Europa, og europæisk dramas transnationale distribution i det hele taget uden for eget, nationalt territorium er vigtig og faktisk ofte skaber debat og interesse, mangler den transnationale europæiske tv-distribution power. Der er en kulturel svaghed i selve den europæiske film- og tv-kultur, som gør den svag overfor den lange tradition den amerikansk-engelsk tradition besidder. De nye transnationale streamingtjenester, som også er stærke produktionsdynamoer, har alle amerikansk hovedadresse.

I en af de seneste målinger af et udvalg af nationale og internationale streamingtjenester konkluderes det ganske vist, at DR for første gang har overhalet NETFLIX, men det er et skrøbeligt øjebliksbillede, som slet ikke tager højde for at flere udenlandske tjenester er på vej ind (f.eks. Disney +, HBO MAX, Apple TV+, Amazon Prime). De mediepolitiske udfordringer for dansk public service har aldrig været større end nu. Og mantraet i branchen om de udenlandske aktører skal betale til gildet løser ikke problemet på længere sigt.

 

Den grænseløse udfordring og den transnationale virkelighed

I sin konklusion slår Gunhild Agger slår hun med rette på, at vi ikke kan overlade produktionen af dansk tv-drama til de internationale streaminggiganter. Man kan tilføje, at det kan vi i hvert fald ikke kun. Virkeligheden er jo allerede nu, at nogle af disse tjenester er interesseret i en vis national, regional produktion, for at komme ind på de lokale markeder. Men det er klart, at man ikke bør deponere hverken dansk tv-produktion eller filmproduktion der.

Men når Agger tilføjer: “Mens det grænseløse danske tv-drama har været forankret i en kombineret national og transnational sammenhæng, risikerer fremtidens tv-drama udelukkende at blive transnationalt, og det vil indebære et tab” (Agger 2020: 403) virker det lidt defaitistisk. Heldigvis tilføjer hun da også at mediehistorien viser, at det værdifulde i et givet medie tenderer mod at overleve, blot i andre former. Men at bekymringen er reel viser grafen nedenfor fra den seneste medierapport fra DR. Her kan man se, at det er de danske kanaler/streamingtjenester, der bærer det danske tv-drama frem.

Jeg tror alligevel en debat om fremtidens danske tv-drama og tv- og filmkultur må starte med erkendelsen af, at den nationale mediekultur i den grad er afhængig af øget, transnationalt samarbejde. Men i den sammenhæng er det meget karakteristisk for den danske film- og tv-branche som helhed, ligesom det gælder for andre europæiske lande, at det kulturelle europæiske samarbejde er svagt. Ofte oplever man at den europæiske film- og tv-branche hellere vil skælde ud på de store amerikansk tech-giganter, end de vil fokusere på tættere mediesamarbejde på europæisk plan. Jeg har været til en del konferencer i Europa om det nationale og transnationale perspektiv. Når jeg eller andre oplægsholdere fokuserer på den nærliggende mulighed at Europæerne arbejder sammen og forsøger at skabe et transnationalt europæisk samarbejde for at matche de amerikanske giganter, så starter en nationalt præget diskurs om hvor afhængig man er af de mange nationale territorier.

Det europæiske tv-drama samarbejder er blevet stærkere de senere år, men det består af for spredte regionale samarbejder. Der er ingen vision om et fælles europæisk marked. Det lover ikke godt for fremtiden, og det styrker da heller ikke Europa, at England nu har meldt sig ud. England er film- og tv-mæssigt en europæisk stormagt, men de har også før brexit har altid været meget mere orienteret mod USA.

Den digitale udfordring: nationale og europæiske perspektiver

EU er et samarbejde mellem nationalstater, og det er både en kulturel rigdom og en problem. Vi lever allerede i et fælles indre marked, og vi har endda et begyndende digitalt indre marked. Men da det for nogle år siden blev introduceret råbte en stor del af den europæiske film- og tv-branche op. Forestillingen om et fælles europæisk marked for film og tv for streaming er åbenbart mere skræmmende end den nuværende situation, hvor amerikanske tech-giganter langsomt deler Europa mellem sig. EU har Creative Europe, et godt, men alt for svagt initiativ. Jeg gør mig ikke nogen forestillinger om en totalt integreret europæisk film- og tv-kultur, hvor vi arbejder sammen på kryds og tværs. “Enhed i forskellighed” er EU’s slogan, også når det kommer til kultur. Så spørgsmålet er, hvordan vores store kulturelle, fælles kulturarv kan udmøntes i et stadigt stærkere samarbejde om produktion, distribution og streaming af europæisk film og tv.

Svaret blæser i vinden i øjeblikket. Men det er vigtigt at diskutere. Dansk film og tv-dramatik står ganske stærkt i dag, takket være den danske public service model og den danske filmstøtte. Men som udviklingen siden 2000 viser, så står vi også relativt stærkt transnationalt, fordi der er blevet skabt transnationale samarbejder, som arbejder sammen med EU’s kreative indsats.

Gunhild Aggers seneste bog standser lige på dørtrinnet til denne udvikling. Men hun ridser banen op til den digitale, transnationale kamp, som i disse år intensiveres mere og mere. Hun viser også hvilke kvaliteter den danske tv-dramatik har – og det samme kunne siges om filmkulturen. Vi har en solid tradition og arv at bygge på, og den skal udfolde sig i den nye og mere globale og digitale kultur. Vi har også det nationale publikum med os: de vil faktisk vældig gerne have masser af dansk tv-dramatik, og de vil sikkert også gerne have adgang til det kolossale arkiv af udsendelser vi har. Arvesølvet er også det fremtidige guld, hvis Danskerne og Europæerne skal konkurrere med NETFLIX, HBO, og alle de andre. Nu mangler vi bare politiske muskler og visioner – især på europæisk plan.

Hvis jeg bare har det mindste ret i mine analyser af den måde europæiske historiske tv-dramaer har fortolket vores fælles og forskellige historie på, så er vi europæere meget mindre forskellige end vi tror. De basale genrer og narrative former har meget tilfælles, men vores nationale, regionale og lokale historie udfylder rammerne forskelligt. Det er denne lighed og de forskelligheder, vi skal fastholde og udbytte i den digitale kamp, som er i gang. I både mine bøger og Gunhild Aggers ligger der et budskab om at det nationale og transnationale ikke er hinandens modsætning. Tværtimod kan kampen for at bevare retten til vores egen historie være afhængig af at europæisk film og tv finder sammen for at bevare vores stærke, nationale traditioner. Ellers løber amerikanerne måske som sædvanlig med det hele eller i hvert fald det halve. Derfor skal vi måske også finde et konstruktivt samarbejde på den front.

Referencer

Agger, Gunhild (2020). Det grænseløse tv-drama. Danskhed og transnationalitet. (Samfundslitteratur)

Agger, Gunhild (2005). Dansk tv-drama. Arvesølv og underholdning. (Samfundslitteratur)

Bondebjerg, Ib (2020). Screening the Twentieth Century Europe. Television, History, Memory. (Palgrave European Film and Media Studies)

Bondebjerg, Ib et.al (2017). Transnational European Television Drama. Production, Genres and Audiences. (Palgrave European Film and Media Studies)

Bondebjerg, Ib (1993/2018). Elektroniske Fiktioner. TV som fortællende medie. (Borgen/Lindhardt og Ringhof)

Grøngaard, Peder (1988). Det danske tv-spil. (Nyt Nordisk Forlag)

Jørgensen, John Christian (red. 1976). Tv-teatret. Kunst, teknik og historie. (Gyldendal)

Redvall, Eva Novrup (2013). Writing and Producing Television Drama in Denmark. From the Kingdom to the Killing. (PalgraveMacMillan)

Stahr, Jimmy (1972). Radio og fjernsyn år 2000. I TV & Radio. To Massemedier.

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Søren Malling som efterforsker Jens Møller konfronterer medierne i Tobias Lindholms serie Efterforskningen

I det sjette og sidste afsnit af TV2 og Tobias Lindholms serie Efterforskningen (In dubio pro reo/al tvivl skal komme den anklagede til gode) går vi fra nærmest den sorteste, græske tragedie til den store forløsning, da anklageskriftet endelig kan udformes. Afsnittet starter efter en næsten umenneskelig efterforskning, som er foregået over 119 dage. Anklageren, Jakob Busck-Jepsen (Pilou Asbæk), må fortælle lederen af efterforskningen, Jens Møller (Søren Malling), at hvis ikke man kan bevise dødsårsagen, så kan gerningsmanden (som Peter Madsen konsekvent hedder i serien) måske kun højst dømmes for uagtsomt manddrab. Alle er overbevist om, at der er tale om et i den grad overlagt mord under skærpende omstændigheder. Men det afgørende bevis mangler. Men så går Maibrit Porse (Laura Christensen) og Musa Amin (Dulfi Al Jabouri) i gang med døgnstudier i det omfattende bevismateriale. Og heureka, de finder the missing link!

I den sidste halvdel af afsnit seks er der en scene, hvor Jakob og Jens kigger ud på en kæmpe horde journalister fra nationale og internationale medier, kameraer og mikrofoner: et billede af medierne som en slags blodhunde på færden af sensation. “Ved du”, siger Jens Møller, hvor mange drabssager jeg har haft? 138, og alligevel har jeg aldrig oplevet en sag som denne. Det er som om vi ikke kan få nok. Jeg så en seddel fra et af formiddagsbladene. De ville køre en historie om, hvordan den sigtede holder jul. Der bliver begået ca. 50 mord om året i Danmark – det laveste antal nogensinde. Det føles bare ikke sådan, for vi hører om dem allesammen.” Jakob: “Måske er det sådan, at jo mere civiliserede vi er, jo mere har vi brug for at kigge ind i mørket.” Og så går Jakob ud til skaren af journalister og medier. Retssagen kan begynde.

Krimigenrens grundformel

Krimigenren har dybe rødder i vores nationale og den internationale kultur. Den fylder godt i journalistikken, på de sociale medier, i film og på tv, den kommer til udtryk i fiktion og i dokumentar, og i formater derimellem. Det er simpelthen en af de mest populære genrer, fordi den rummer et fundamentalt sammenstød mellem det mest grænseoverskridende bestialske og civilisation, lov og orden og medmenneskelighed. Sagen om Ubåds-Madsen og hans mord på den svenske journalist Kim Wall er noget af det mest ubegribelige og bestialske, man kan forestille sig. Hvordan kan et menneske finde på at handle sådan? Det er ikke bare et bestialsk mord, det er sammenstødet mellem en forskruet, sindssyg forbryderhjerne og et lysende, ungt og helt uskyldigt menneske – det er mørket mod lyset og håbet. ” Hun var glad, tillidsfuld og modig. Hun var præcis som vi ønsker vores børn skal være” – siger efterforskeren Jens Møller (Søren Malling) i 5. afsnit af Tobias Lindholms dramadokumentariske fiktionsserie Efterforskningen (TV2 2020, 1-6). Citatet mere end antyder, at han ser denne sag og alle andre drabssagen som et spørgsmål om at forsvare vores demokrati og værdier, vores menneskelighed.

 Hvis man googler Peter Madsen og Kim Wall, får man mere en 4 millioner hits både danske og fra hele verden. Det vider om en medie-tsunami af usædvanlige dimensioner. I et interview med Tobias Lindholm om serien bruger han udtrykket “en kollektiv besættelse af mørket” (https://www.information.dk/kultur/2020/09/tobias-lindholm-drabet-paa-kim-wall-kollektiv-besaettelse-moerket). Han fik selv lidt af en dårlig smag i munden over den tætte mediedækning og alle de slibrige detaljer, som gradvist kom frem. I sommeren 2017, hvor det hele udspillede sig på alle forsider og foran rullende kameraer, kunne han ikke i sin vildeste fantasi forestille sig, at han 3 år efter havde lavet en serie om det. Kan man overhovedet lægge sig i forlængelse af en medie-tsunami? Må man overhovedet gå tæt på en så bestialsk sag, så kort tid efter? Gør man så ikke bare forbryderen og forbrydelsen endnu mere spektakulær? Rammer man ikke bare de efterladte?

Skal kunsten tie, når virkeligheden bliver for bestialsk?

Diskussionen omkring Efterforskningen sættes i relief af de mange følelser og meninger, der var på banen i kølvandet på Breiviks terrorbombe i Oslo og hans massakre på unge socialdemokrater på Utøya den 22/7 2011. Ubåds-drabet blegner næsten ved siden af den største terrorhandling og tragedie nogensinde i Skandinavien. Pressedækningen var enorm, men selve det at lave en film eller et teaterstykke om begivenheden var for mange dybt kontroversielt. Ikke desto mindre gik der kun 2 år før Åsne Seierstad havde skrevet bogen En av oss (2013), et dokumentarisk forsøg på at trænge ind i kernen af Breivik som menneske og terrorist. Et forsøg på at forstå ham og hans gerning ikke bare som et monster og en terrorist, men også som en forkvaklet del af en fælles virkelighed.

Bogen var omdiskuteret, men den dannede også forlæg for Paul Greengrass’ dramadokumentariske film 22. juli (2018), en film som både skildrer Breivik og en af overleverne fra massakren. I Greengras-filmen spiller Breivik altså en central rolle. Vi både ser og hører ham, og vi får en direkte konfrontation mellem terroristen og hans ofre. Samme år kom også Erik Poppes meget forskellige Utøya – 22.juli (2018), som varer 72 min. dvs. præcis den tid massakren tog, og set indefra, fra ofrenes synsvinkel. Den centrale karakter er sammensat af flere virkelige personer. Men også her ser vi jo Breivik, fordi det er hans tilstedeværelse, som jager de unge mennesker rundt. I klar forlængelse af denne ganske omfattende offentlige bearbejdning af en voldsom, traumatisk begivenhed skabte 4 overlevere fra Utøya – i samarbejde med en instruktør – ligeledes i 2018 Rekonstruktion Utøya. Her gennemlever og reflekterer de selv over deres oplevelser i et simplet rum med enkle kulisser og streger i gulvet.

I den norske måde at forholde sig til og håndtere en national katastrofe på er der stærke diskussioner om hvad man kan og ikke kan, der minder om den danske diskussion om Efterforskningen. Om selve det at genopleve begivenheder er en ny traumatisering af ofrene og de efterladte, om selve det at sætte Breivik i centrum i historier er at gå hans ærinde. Men det er også karakteristisk, at disse stemmer i stor udstrækning forstummede ved mødet med filmene. Ofrene giver i stort tal udtryk for at filmene meget præcist gengiver deres oplevelser, at de ikke er bange for at tale om det, og at kunsten her faktisk hjælper til at komme videre. Om indvendinger mod at skildre noget så traumatisk som ligger så relativt tæt på har Erik Poppe da også sagt: “Hvilket formål tjener kunsten, hvis ikke vi må beskæftige os med det komplicerede” https://www.information.dk/kultur/2018/10/utoeya-overlever-breivik-film-fortaeller-fulde-historie.

Man hører her et klart ekko fra Tobias Lindholms opfattelse af, hvorfor kunsten skal være tæt på med den rigtige historie, når store traumatiske begivenheder udspiller sig i pressen. Kunsten kan noget andet, og den skal ikke vente med at fortælle historien: “Kunsten skal spille en rolle i vores samfund. Oliver Stones kritiske film om Vietnam kom for sent, fordi den kritiserede et samfund af i går (…) Vi skal passe på, at vi ikke gør os selv den bjørnetjeneste at gøre fiktion til pæne sofaværker, man kan sidde og labbe i sig. Kunsten og fiktionen må også gerne spille en anden rolle – som vidne til den tid vi lever i” (Interview med Monggaard, Information 24/9 2020).

Morbid underholdning?

Længe før Tobias Lindholms intentioner med sit projekt Efterforskningen overhovedet var offentligt kendt og før premieren på førte afsnit 28/9 2020 var en længere og ophedet debat om brug af virkelige forbrydelser i fiktion eller dokumentar i gang. Hovedsynspunktet fra dem som mente, at man helst ikke skulle bruge den form for virkelighed som grundlag for historier var dels, at det var alt for tæt på i forhold til de pårørende, men også at virkelige historier ikke måtte bruges til underholdning. I et af de tidligste indlæg (Andrea Dragsdahl, Information 16/7 2019) vender hun sig mod True Crime i det hele taget, det er bare morbid underholdning når podcasts, film, og tv-serier svælger i groteske detaljer taget direkte ud af virkeligheden. Hun nævner bl.a. podcast successen Serial (2014-), og Mørkeland. True Crime er faktisk værre end tabloid-pressens kriminalstof, hævder hun, for her gælder dog presseetiske regler. Med Mørkeland som eksempel peger indlægget på, at man der hver uge gennemgår sager, som man har googlet sig til og som man gennemgår detaljeret uden hensyn til ofre og pårørende. Stil jeres lyst til den slags i fiktion er rådet, ikke via true crime formater.

Mørkeland hører klart til i den mindre solide ende af krimistoffet, men man kan næppe basere en samlet kritik af True Crime genren på et enkelt produkt. At bruge virkeligheden i både fiktion og fakta-genrer er ikke så indlysende simpelt, at man bare kan afvise på forhånd at det giver god mening at bruge virkelige krimihistorier på en etisk og oplysende måde. Men debatten forud for Efterforskningen fik mere tyngde, da Kim Walls kæreste, Ole Stobbe, meldte sig på banen i Weekendavisen under overskriften “Hvad medierne låner, leveres aldrig tilbage” (Stoppe 8/8 2019). Den rummer dels en meget personlig beretning om sagens forløb, dels et skarpt angreb på pressen og den journalistiske behandling af sagen og retssagen. Stobbe ser pressedækningen som en ufølsom sportskamp, som en dækning, hvor personen og journalisten Kim Wall var uinteressant og ligegyldig. “Hun var et navn og et ansigt, som alle kendte, men kendskabet var ligeså todimensionelt som forsiderne. Folk kendte hende, som de kendte prinsesse Diana, Madelein McCann, der forsvandt i Portugal, og andre ulykkelige skæbner og tragiske starletter.”

Men Ole Stobbe kommenterede også de første meddelelser om serien og sin kontakt med holdet bag. Han siger, at hans første indskydelse var at produktionen var “forkert”, og at han har holdt fast i det standpunkt: “Vores mareridt skulle gøres til underholdning for publikums, pengenes og for hvad jeg anså for at være en utilstrækkelig moralsk forklarings skyld (…) Kim ville aldrig acceptere at blive portrætteret sådan. Alene som et offer og ikke som det menneske, hun havde kæmpet for at være.” Det er klart, at man som medmenneske berøres af Stobbes indvendinger. Men han taler om en serie, som netop handler om selve efterforskningen og kun indirekte om forbryderen og offeret. Han taler om en serie som faktisk på ganske smuk vis genrejser Kim Wall via hendes forældre.

 

Selvom det kan lyde hårdt, er historien jo allerede ude og meget offentlig, og ingen kan jo dybest set tage patent på virkeligheden. Instruktører og forfattere må fortælle den historie de kan og vil. Pårørende har den samme ret. Det man kan konstatere er jo, at Kim Walls far og mor (begge garvede journalister) valgte det modsatte synspunkt og blev en vigtig del af tilblivelsen og historien. De udgav også allerede i 2018 sammen bogen Bogen om Kim Wall. Når ordene slipper op, ligesom de oprettede Kim Wall Memorial Website (https://www.rememberingkimwall.com/) og Kim Wall Memorial Fund (https://www.iwmf.org/programs/kim-wall-memorial-fund/), den sidste med Ole Stoppe og Kims bror.

True Crime som den kreative branche moralske fallit?

I den danske debat for og imod fiktion om Ubåds-drabet var det teater- og filminstruktøren Katrine Wiedemann, som plæderede for at kunsten skulle tie. Allerede før nogen overhovedet havde set en film eller tv-serie om sagen mente hun at kunne konkludere: “Nu kommer tv-serien om Kim Wall. Det var forudsigeligt. Vi så det komme allerede i den første tid efter mordet. Sagen var farverig, bestialsk, indeholdt en ubåd, en galning, en smuk pige” (Wiedemann, Weekendavisen 7/11 2019). Hun så True Crime som den kreative branches moralske fallit, og som en svælgen i virkelige menneskers ulykke. Selvom hun udtrykker respekt for Lindholm som filminstruktør, ser hun det som noget der skal blåstemple et dybt problematisk projekt. Vi vil allesammen se vold, hævder hun, og det er ikke bare tabloid-pressen som opfører sig “blodtørstigt, inhumant og kynisk”. Det gælder – må man tro – hele den seriøse presse – og nu også dokumentarismen og kunst. Grundsynet er, at selvom volden har været dyrket i kulturen til alle tider, så er netop denne meningsløse vold ikke noget man kan beskæftige sig med og lære noget af: “Fiktionen forvandler og påvirker virkeligheden. Snart husker vi ikke Kim Wall, men flot løste scener og skuespilpræstationer. Det er en slags kannibalisme, et gravskænderi. I andre indlæg har hun talt om “at det er som at stå og filme et trafikuheld på motorvejen” (Berlingske, 20/11 2019), eller at “True Crime lærer os at det ok at bruge andres død onanistisk” (Information 3/10 2019).

Ubåds-drabet har foruden den omfattende journalistiske dækning allerede givet anledning til to danske serier: De hemmelige optagelser med Peter Madsen (dokumentarserie af Kristian Linnemann for Discovery (D-Play) og TV2’s serie Efterforskningen. Derudover er der en dansk-udenlandsk serie undervejs på Netflix, Into the Deep (Emma Sullivan, se Claus Christensen, Ekko, 16/10 2020). Der er dog tale om fundamentalt set helt forskellige serier.

De hemmelige optagelser med Peter Madsen prøver – baseret på 20 timers samtale med forbryderen, at klarlægge en forbryders motiver og psyke. Til det sidste bruges også psykiateren Henrik Day Poulsen. I udgangspunkter altså ren dokumentation via frobryderen selv, og forsøg på diagnose. Om ikke i formen, så i intentionen er den meget lig Mindhunter og forsøget på at forstå seriemordere, en serie Tobias Lindholm også har instrueret et par afsnit af. Man kan også sammenligne med Andrew Jareckis HBO-miniserie The Jinx, som rummer mere sprængfarlige afsløringer af en morder. De hemmelige optagelser med Peter Madsen bekræfter stort set bare hvad vi ved i forvejen, den gør os ikke meget klogere. Her er en forbryder, der rabler løs i øst og vest.

Mindhunter (2017-), en serie også Tobias Lindholm har instrueret afsnit af. Temaet er systematisk kortlægning af forbryderhjernen.

 

Er der et etisk problem ved at vi konfronteres med Peter Madsen og hans egen opfattelse af sagen og sig selv? Næppe – for godt nok kunne man godt ønske, at man ikke skulle se og høre på forbryderiske psykopater. Men de er jo en ubehagelig del af vores virkelighed, som man ikke bare kan ignorere. Problemet er imidlertid, at serien virker ligegyldig og overflødig – den gør os ikke meget klogere. Desuden er den blot en lille del af en krimigenre, som i høj grad netop tematiserer mødet mellem en forbryderkarakter, et offer og et samfund, som forsøger at eliminere og undgå forbrydelser.  Det er faktisk ikke uvigtigt at beskæftige sig med det onde, det umoralske og samfundets og menneskets mørke sider. Men det er – som med al dokumentariske og kunst – vigtigt at genren har noget vigtigt at fortælle os, og gør det på en kvalificeret måde.

Into the deep startede som en dokumentarfilm om en tilsyneladende karismatisk iværksætter, og de unge som fulgte ham. Under titlen Rocket Man startede projektet før ubåds-mordet. Men mordet ændrede jo alt, samtidig med at projektet fik vanskeligheder, fordi en del af deltagerne nu pludselig så sig selv som en del af en helt anden sammenhæng. Filmens perspektiv er nu ifølge instruktøren Emma Sullivan (i mail til Ekko): “Folk der har været tæt på en voldelig kriminel uden at vide det, er et underbelyst emne. Følelser af frygt, skam og skyld kan være invaliderende. Jeg vil skabe en bredere, offentlig bevidsthed om det problem. På denne måde går filmen udover den egentlige, kriminelle handling.” Her er det etiske problem altså, at de medvirkende oprindelig har deltaget i et ganske andet projekt, som nu pludselig har ændret sig. Hvordan håndterer man virkelige personer fanget i en cirkel af potentiel død og ondskab, som de ikke har været opmærksomme på? Filmens præmis er anderledes og potentielt interessant, for den handler om hvordan en forbryders hverdag og kontakt med andre har skjult sig under et almindeligt, menneskeligt ansigt. Man søger en forbryder, og ender med at stå med et menneske, omend et sjældent bestialsk og udspekuleret menneske.

Realismen og de store sociale og psykologiske traumer

Den benhårde realisme og de store temaer har kendetegnet hele Tobias Lindholms karriere, både som manus-partner for Thomas Vinterberg (Jagten og Submarino) – to af Vinterbergs mest barske film og som instruktør. Hans egen spillefilms-debut med fængselsdramaet R (2010) er en skildring af noget af den mest brutale og bestialske mandekultur, man kan opdrive. Håbet siver langsomt ud af hovedpersonen og filmen. Det samme gælder Kapringen (2012), hvor et skib ender som gidsel i en barsk magtkamp mellem sømændene på stedet, piraterne og rederiet, eller Krigen (2016) om en krigsret og forholdet mellem gruppen og systemet. Pilou Asbæk og Søren Malling er stærke karakterer her, ligesom i Efterforskningen. Der er ikke meget håb i disse film, det er mennesker der kværnes ned af virkeligheden og de systemer de møder. Lindholm styres af et realistisk og næsten dokumentarisk kompas i sine film, men det er historier om mennesker der slår sig på virkeligheden.

Pilou Asbæk, Tobias Lindholm og Dulfi Al Jabouri under optagelserne til Efterforskningen. Foto: Per Arnesen, TV2.

Det er altså de store traumer og menneskelige historier der styrer i Lindholms univers, men med sikker sans for realisme. Det er det også i Efterforskningen, men for en gang skyld har han – også efter eget udsagn – nu skabt en film om helte, om nogen der uegennyttigt arbejder for vores fælles bedste, og lykkes: “Jeg kan godt se, at jeg nu har lavet tre film, der hver især beskriver, hvordan mennesker ryger ned gennem samfundets sprækker. Og så er der her en film om samfundets helte” (Ekko 86: 56). At serien fik den form, den fik, skyldes imidlertid også to andre helte, Ingrid og Joachim Wall. De spilles med stor styrke i serien af Pernilla August og Rolf Lassgård. Lindholms møde med Walls forældre var et møde med to mennesker med en kolossal menneskelig styrke, som blev transporteret over i serien.

Maibrit Porse (Laura Christensen) – den efterforsker som nægter at give op og finder det fældende bevis. Som kvinde er hun om muligt endnu mere besat af at få løst gåden. Foto: Per Arnesen TV2

Seriens styrke i forhold til hele debatten før premieren er, at den netop ikke driver rovdrift på andre menneskers tragedie, at den ikke bruge døden og det bestialske som sensationsbilleder. I stedet nedtoner den de ydre følelser og lader vores erkendelse af den menneskelige tragedie vokse langsomt frem gennem en meget professionel og faktuel eftersøgning. Modtagelse af Efterforskningen har da også næsten uden undtagelse været ekstremt positivt. Den gennemgående holdning udtrykkes klart i f.eks. Eva Eistrups anmeldelse af serien, “Tindrende smuk beskrivelse af menneskets drift mod retfærdighed” (Politiken 27/9 2020), hvor underrubrikken lyder: “Man troede ikke på det: at nogen kunne lave en god eller som minimum moralsk acceptabel tv-serie om det traume, som hele ubådssagen er. Men Torben Lindholms Efterforskningen er et stille mesterværk.”

Netop udtrykket stille mesterværk peger på, at både den vinkel, der er valgt – ikke på gerningsmanden, ikke på ofret – men på den dybtgående, realistiske skildring af opklaringen. Det er er det som bringer os langt ind i en virkelighed, der til syvende og sidst rummer det hele. Det er et professionelt, dybt dedikeret efterforskningssystem, der fører os stille og roligt ind i forbrydelsens centrum og kerne. Følelserne sidder ikke uden på skjorten her. Der er meget stone face – ikke mindst i Jens Møllers (Søren Mallings) plagede ansigt. Men efterhånden som tingene udvikler sig bryder følelserne igennem panseret. Et professionelt drama møder et menneskeligt drama.

“Worst case scenario”, spørger Jens Møller sin efterforsker Nikolaj Storm (Hans Henrik Clemmensen) i del 1 ved meddelelsen om at en ubåd er sunket. “At de løber tør for strøm før vi finder dem”, svarer han. Understatements, nøgterne konstateringer og ikke så mange ord er karakteristisk for det professionelle team, vi møder her. Men tag ikke fejl, her tages der ikke let på noget som helst. Det er hardcore folk vi har med at gøre, og følelserne får lov at vente, til man har nået målet. Undervejs brænder de kun indvendig, så varmen næsten står ud gennem tøjet, eller afsløres i den minimalistiske mimik. Når man arbejder med det mest bestialske, det mest traumatiske er det ikke råd til at ryste på hånden. I løbet af serien stiger efterforskernes og dykkernes frustration og bliver til voldsomme vredesudbrud, fordi der er så meget på spil, og beviserne er så svære at samle op fra havets bund (afsnit 4, 1280 meter, og på forbryderens computer. Da gennembruddet endelig kommer i afsnit 5 (Et helt menneske), bryder følelserne stærkt, men behersket frem. Musikken er samtidig gennem hele serien mesterligt udnyttet til at fremkalde denne følelse af alt det, der ligger under overfladen.

Den professionelle historie og den menneskelige historie

Seriens fokus ligger altså ganske klart på det omfattende team af efterforskere, som forsøger at opklare en ganske kompliceret sag, et meget bestialsk mord, hvor morderen har gjort alt for at slette sine spor. Der er mange set backs undervejs, næsten i hvert afsnit tror de at være tæt på, og så må de skifte taktik. Billedet bliver komplet i afsnit 5 og i afsnit 6 kan domsfældelsen tage sin begyndelse. Men inde i den professionelle historie gemmer sig flere menneskelige historier, som udfoldes på forskellig måde, og som åbner det menneskelige perspektiv i den bestialske historie. På den ene side ser vi gradvist Jens Møllers forhold til sin kone og sin gravide datter udfolde sig. Det er en hyppig tematik i krimier af denne type, at detektiven/hovepersonen har næsen så lang nede i sin efterforskning, at han/hun ikke kan se sig selv og sin familie i øjnene. Jens Møller er lige så tilknappet og fåmælt på hjemmebanen som på udebanen. Det lykkes ham at skubbe sin gravide datter fra sig, fordi han hele tiden skal tjekke sin telefon.

Men i afsnit 5, med den dobbeltydige titel, “Et helt menneske”, bryder følelserne frem. Da alle ligdelene er fundet, og Kim Wall dermed er genskabt som et helt lig, er det netop Walls grumme skæbne, hendes totale uskyld, som minder ham om hans egen datter. Han forsøger umiddelbart efter endnu et klodset forsøg på forsoning med hende. Men det er netop hans forkølede relation til sin egen datter og familie, som sætter det store traume i relief. Det er her det stille mesterværk viser sig. For der er jo en anden familie i serien, som vi kommer meget tæt på, Walls familie, en utroligt stærk og forbundet familie, hvor følelserne er intense. De to familier, den heroiske og utrættelige efterforsker uden rigtig kontakt med sine egne følelser og familie, og den stærke familie bag offeret, udgør på hver sin måde håbet i filmen.

Jens Møller repræsenterer retsstaten, demokratiet – han er den som skaber orden i kaos. Han ofrer sig for almenvældet, men det koster dyrt på det menneskelige plan. Omgangen med forbrydelsernes bestialske katalog dag ud og dag ind sætter sine spor. Kim Walls projekt, sådan som det skildres i filmen, er et globalt humanistisk projekt om solidaritet og retfærdighed. Det er ikke bare hende vi har mistet, det er noget meget større, og det repræsenterer Walls forældre stærkt i filmen. De kæmper for retfærdighed for deres datter, men også mere generelt i verden.

Kunsten skal ikke tie

På den måde er Efterforskningen et eksempel på at kunsten ikke skal tie, selv overfor det mest bestialske, som lige er ovegået os. Det er den bedste måde at begrave Madsen selv ved at pege på, at samfundet og mennesker i det hele taget har ressourcer til at overvinde de værste traumer og forbrydelser. Kunsten kan meget mere end journalistikken – den kan lade os gennemarbejde traumer, og den kan bringe os på den anden side af det bestialske. Det har vi set med filmene om Utøya, det har vi set med en lang række af film om krige, terrorhandlinger og andre traumatiske, historiske og aktuelle begivenheder.

 

I seriens afsluttende afsnit bevæger vi os derfor også fra den juridiske retfærdigheds sejr, – baseret på et team af efterforskere, som endelig får ros med mere end fem ord og et klap på skulderen af Jens Møller – til menneskelighedens sejr. Den kriminalistiske tragedie svøbt i tunge græske gevandter vender til en mere mild og rund hyldest til dem der skal føre livet videre: Jens Møller kan omsider kejtet og rørt tage sit første barnebarn i armene, og annoncere at han går på pension; Ingrid Wall kan forelæse for en gruppe af journaliststuderende, mest kvinder, om at bære Kim Wall’s fakkel videre; Joachim Wall dykker videre for at redde sin datters journalist-filer. Det er i det hele taget lyset og den fornyede energi der sætter ind efter mørkets nederlag.

Kunsten kan have funktion som erkendelse, heling og forståelse af det allermest bestialske i tilværelsen. Det fordrer blot, at man kunstnerisk, etisk og moralsk gør sig klart, hvad det er for en historie man vil fortælle, og hvorfor. Det har ikke alle True Crime eksempler gjort. Men som Tobias Lindholm siger: “Jeg vil gerne stå fast på, at vi skal lave fortællinger om virkeligheden. Fiktionen kan være med til at minde os om den verden vi lever i, og hvilke værdier vi navigerer efter (Ekko 86: 59).

 

Referencer

Claus Christensen (2020). “Kontroversiel Peter Madsen-film klippes om.” Ekko, 16/10.

Andrea Dragsdahl (2019). “Drop true crime – lysten til morbid underholdning skal ikke stilles med andre menneskers tragedie. Information, 16/7.

Eva Eistrup (2020). “Tindrende smuk beskrivelse af menneskets drift mod retfærdighed.” Politiken, 27/9.

Lene Johansen (2020). “Med fokus på håbet. Interview med Tobias Lindholm.” Ekko 86, p. 52-59).

Christian Monggaard (2020). “Tobias Lindholm om drabet på Kim Wall: “Vi var i en kollektiv besættelse af mørket.” Information, 24/9

Jakob Steen Olsen (2019). “Hård kritik af TV2 serie om mordet på Kim Wall: “Det er som at stå og filme et trafikuheld på motorvejen.” Interview med Katrine Wiedemann, Berlingske, 20/11.

Ole Stobbe (2019). “Hvad medierne låner, leveres aldrig tilbage.” Weekendavisen, 8/8.

Vanessa Thorpe (2018). “Utøya overlever: “Breivik-film fortæller ikke den fulde historie.” 10/10.

Katrine Wiedemann (2019). “Nogle gange skal kunsten tie.” Weekendavisen, 7/11.

Katrine Wiedemann (2019). “True crime lærer os, at det er OK at bruge andres død onanistisk. Information, 3/10.

 

 

 

 

Jon Bang Carlsen – en betydelig skikkelse i den moderne, poetiske dokumentarfilm.

 

Jeg er ikke journalist, og jeg er heller ikke skolelærer. Jeg har aldrig haft det der med, at jeg skal være klogere end mine personer. Jeg er bare en historiefortæller. Jeg kan bruge et eller andet i deres liv til at fortælle en historie, som ikke nødvendigvis er deres liv, men som er en historie som opstår i mødet mellem dem og mig.

Disse spinkle øjeblikke bliver jeg nødt til at geniscenesætte. For at lave en film, som var mit personlige bud på en spejling af en del af verden i deres kød, i deres hverdage, deres ritualer, da måtte jeg kunne styre mine billeder fuldstændig  rent visuelt.

(Jon Bang Carlsen om sin metode i Mette Hjort og Ib Bondebjerg (2000). Instruktørens blik. En Interviewbog om dansk film. Rosinante, s. 206).

Således siger en af dansk films helt store poetiske dokumentarister, Jon Bang Carlsen, som nu fylder 70 år, og kan se tilbage på en perlerække af film (og også fiktionsfilm), som har været med til at definere denne dokumentariske genre i Danmark. Mange – især journalister – ser måske dokumentarismen, som en genre, der udelukkende bestræber sig på at afdække virkeligheden så objektivt som muligt, sådan som det delvis sker i den autoritative dokumentarfilm (Bondebjerg 2008, s. 95ff, og Bondebjerg 2014). Eller man oplever primært dokumentarisme som den kommer til udtryk i den i dag meget dominerende observerende dokumentar, som går ind i hverdagen i dens mangfoldige former for at lade os opleve menneskeliv, menneskeskæbner uden filter. Det er begge markante genrer i dokumentarismen. Men sandheden er jo, at hver gang man filmer virkeligheden, så foretager man et valg, og da vi taler om en audiovisuel kunstart, så er billede og lyd altid noget som på samme måde rummer et valg. Alt filme virkeligheden rummer altid en æstetisk dimension, en forskellig form for valg, perspektiv og iscenesættelse.

Det poetiske og det refleksive

Det er den dimension Jon Bang Carlsens dokumentariske værk demonstrerer til fulde. Hans film er både poetiske og refleksive, fordi han samtidig med at skildre virkelighed og mennesker også synliggør og tematiserer sine virkemidler. Han møder verden og involverer sig i den. Han involverer også sin egen personlige historie i den verden han skildrer. Det sker f.eks. utrolig smukt og symbolsk i en film som Livet vil leves – breve fra en mor (1994). Det er en film som naturligvis handler om moderen (Else Bang), men som også mere generelt tematiserer forholdet mellem udlængsel og hjemlængsel. Det symboliseres i billeder fra USA, der kontrasteres billeder fra en dansk provins. De to dimensioner støder i bogstaveligste forstand sammen i tekst og billeder. Søren Spanning og Bodil Kjer lægger stemme til brevene mellem mor og søn.

Livet vil levet – når udlængsel og hjemlængsel mødes.

Erindringsdimensionen, historien, fortiden – både i mere generel og personlig forstand – rumsterer ofte i Jon bang Carlsens univers. Dermed synliggør han erindringens funktion i alle menneskers liv. Han skaber rum og refleksion omkring forholdet mellem fortid og nutid. Det kan ske med en næsten nostalgisk visuel genoptagelse af et meget gammelt hotel på Fanø og dets ejer Fru Beck, Før gæsterne kommer (1984), hvor vi i løbet af kun 18 minutter får et billede af verden i går midt i en meget anderledes nutid. Det er et poetisk billede af interiør, møbler, genstande, spejle, malerier, som kalder verden af i går frem, samtidig med at personerne jo ligger midt i en helt anden nutid.  Den blev i 1989 udnævnt til en af verdens 100 bedste film. Jon Bang Carlsen har selv kaldt den en af sine mest gennemkonstruerede og iscenesatte film. Morten Piil kaldte den i Information for en “utroligt omhyggeligt gennemkonstrueret film med det formål at give et poetisk billede af en verden i stilstand mellem erindring og fremadskuen” (Movin 2012, s. 315).

Det iscenesatte portræt – og det globale perspektiv

Jon Bang Carlsen beskriver i sine film ikke bare den danske virkelighed, og ikke bare sin mere personlige historie. Han er vel en af de mest globale instruktører vi har, og han har i længere perioder filmet og opholdt sig i bl.a. USA, Sydafrika, Irland, og han har tegnet dybe portrætter af mennesker og livsformer der. Hvad man vel må kalde hans gennembrudsfilm Jenny (1977) er et hjemligt portræt, som på mange måder peger frem mod Livet vil leves, og som bruger en markant blanding af drøm og hverdag, af hverdagsrealisme og iscenesatte, symbolske drømmesekvenser.

Carlsens billeder i Jenny, veksler mellem iscenesat realisme og rekonstruerede drømmesekvenser

Men allerede med En rig mand (1979) tegner han et portræt af en mand, Hans Smith, som har kæmpet sig op fra bunden og nu lever det søde liv in den globale overhalingsbane. Filmens scoop er, at bringe hovedpersonen tilbage i sit oprindelige miljø, og også i Californien med de fattige. Det er to iscenesættere, der mødes i denne film: en hovedperson som synes at iscenesætte sit eget liv til mindste detalje og en instruktør, der som altid bevæger sig i flere planer både fortællemæssigt og visuelt.

Hvis Hans Smith repræsenterer en realiseret drøm, er mange af Jon Bang Carlsens andre portrætter med folk der stadigvæk drømmer, eller som ser tilbage på et liv, hvor drømme blev brudt eller hvor vi møder historiens mere grusomme sider. Hotel of the Stars (1981) er et af Jon Bang Carlsens mere kollektive portrætter. Vi følger en række personer på et hotel i Los Angeles, som alle drømmer om at gøre karriere i Hollywood. Men det er ikke bare en film om drømmefabrikkens indflydelse på disse mennesker, det er også et portræt af meget forskellige mennesker, hvis drøm nok aldrig bliver realiseret. Det er en kollektiv social portrætfilm, hvor drømmen er en filmkarriere. I den på mange måder meget forskellige film It’s Now or Never  (1996) er det den irske ungkarls drøm om kærlighed, der skildres.

Men livsdrømme og livsforventninger kan også rummer meget større historiske perspektiver. Det ser man f.eks. i Jon Bang Carlsens film fra Sydafrika. Addicted to Solitude (1999) handler om et land, der har været præget af had mellem sorte og hvide, om politiske og social undertrykkelse, og i filmen går Jon Bang Carlsen langt ned i og tæt på bevidstheden om, hvordan det var dengang og i dag.  Filmen som sådan er ikke en politisk film, den har ikke et bestemt ærinde og budskab. Den viser gennem en række figurer, hvordan fortiden og nutiden tager sig ud – efter en af de længste eksempler på et samfund bygget på systematisk apartheid. Men det er symptomatisk, at filmens to centrale personer er hvide kvinder. Det er gennem deres historie vi primært kommer tæt på fortid og nutid.

Jeg rejste til Sydafrika for at finde en hvid familie (..) Jeg ville filme, hvordan reagerede på ligheden mellem mennesker efter at apartheid forsvandt fra horisonten. Men jeg for hurtigt vild (..) I stedet blev filmen til en historie om to meget forskellige kvinder , som begge havde lidt et tragisk tab blandt en gruppe hvide, som ikke var alt for lykkelige for fremtiden. Begge kvinder blev stærke ved at komme over deres tab. Deres livshistorie mindede mig om en mulig skæbne for den hvide stamme i det sorte Afrika. Ved at miste deres absurde privilegier måtte de åbne deres verden for enhver og blev omsider fri for en ensomhed, som havde martret dem siden den første buskman blev dræbt af en europæisk geværkugle. “Hvis du ikke har kærlighed bliver du et grusomt menneske”, siger en kvinde i filmen. Det samme gælder kulturer. (Jon Bang Carlsen om Addicted to Solitude.

Den store og den lille historie

Purity Beats Everything (2007) demonstrerer Jon Bang Carlsen endnu engang sin evne til at kombinere de helt store perspektiver med de menneskelige historier, der knytter sig til det, vi kender som verdenshistorie. Her er vi hos Holocaust-ofre i Sydafrika, men lyden og billeder fra 2.verdenskrig blander sig også, ligesom filmen er forankret i instruktørens egen nutid i et idyllisk Nordsjællandsk hus. Vi ser og hører filmen på computerskærmen, mens instruktøren selv vandrer hvileløst rundt. Den refleksive distance i billedet er sammen med instruktørens speak med til at skabe et erindringsrum . Genstande, dyr og mennesker i den lokale idyl bliver en kulisse for fortidens grusomme historie, men idyllen bliver også selv forvandlet, når Hitlers hadske tale eller krigens lyde blander sig, og når tørresnorens klemmer pludselig ser ud som soldater på række. Historien er altid en del af nutiden, og vi går ikke fri heroppe i vores velordnede velfærdssamfund.

Filmen er bygget op omkring en meget enkel tanke, og det er en tanke som går igen i de fleste af mine film, nemlig at du ikke kan leve dig ind i andres verden uden at projicere den ind i din egen. Det har jeg taget en visuel konsekvens af på den måde, at mens jeg lytter til mine vidners fortællinger, sidder jeg og kigger på mit eget mikrokosmos (…) Derved bliver alle disse hverdagsfænomener fyldt op med Holocaust-historierne på en måde, så jeg ikke længere bare kan skyde dem fra mig som noget, der ligger udenfor mig selv. (Jon Bang Carlsen i Lars Movin (2012: 481).

 

I Purity beats everything arbejder Jon Bang Carlsen på mange planer, både personligt og historisk. Han ser fiktivt sig selv i i en Hitler Jugend dreng, han lader holocaust-ofrene tale i sin stue, og han bruger ofte langsomme billedovergange der kombinerer det personlige og historiske billeder.

I filmens indledning reflekterer instruktøren off screen over sin egen fødsel fem år efter krigens slutning, og over hvordan ovnene, der udførte drabet på seks millioner jøder ganske vist holdt op med at ryge i 1945, men hvordan tendenser fra dengang synes at komme tilbage. Men han reflekterer også over hvor mange, der prøvede at lægge det bag sig. Som blond og blåøjet barn i et lille velordnet land var fortiden måske langt væk, men alligevel ser vi dag, hvordan fremmedhad og ekstrem nationalisme er vendt tilbage.

“En lille løgn vil ingen tro på, men en stor løgn, der gentages stædigt og hyppigt, vil hen ad vejen trænge dybt ind i de uinformerede massers sind.” Goebbels ord giver genlyd dybt ind i vores tid. Purity Beats Everything handler om at vokse op i et idyllisk naboland til Tyskland. En sælsom stilhed afslører sig som fraværet af sandhed om vores skandinaviske kulturs forbindelser med den ubegribelige ondskab, som fødes i forsøget på “at rengøre” andre kulturer. To overlevere fra Auschwitz leder os tilbage til en rædselsvækkende fortid, som fører direkte mod fremtiden. (Jon Bang Carlsen om Purity Beats Everything).

Ved både at kigge ind i Holocaust-ofrenes historie, og deres forståelse af sig selv i dag i det perspektiv, og ved at se ind i sin egen historie og bevidsthed før og nu bliver erindringen og historien levende. Men det bliver samtidig klart, at fortiden rummer spor, som i dag gentager sig som had mod nye fremmede, og som forsøg på at rense den kultur og det samfund vi lever i for det og de fremmede. Vi hører om det i instruktørens egen voice over, som væver hans personlige fortid sammen med hans nutid. Vi hører det i de to Holocaust-vidners grusomt detaljerede fortællinger om forfølgelse, tortur, næsten død og overlevelse. Men det kører også som et visuelt, kontrastfuldt og poetisk-symbolsk spor gennem filmen. Filmen illustrerer klart styrken i den poetisk-refleksive dokumentar.

Den poetiske dokumentarisme i Danmark

Jon Bang Carlsen er en af de markante stemmer i den moderne danske dokumentarfilm. Han har valgt sin helt egen vej, både æstetisk og tematisk. Men han er naturligvis ikke den eneste poetiske dokumentarist i Danmark, og genren har en hærskare af fremragende udenlandske instruktører som feks. Vertov, Chris Marker, Erroll Morris, Werner Herzog, Michael Grigsby, Humphrey Jennings og Ken Burns osv. Selvom dokumentarfilmen i sin meget tidlige periode blot syntes at filme virkeligheden for at dokumentere den, så begyndt instruktørerne snart at eksperimentere med montage, billede og lyd. Selv i 1930’erne, hvor dokumentarfilm i høj grad var vundet institutionelt på at levere film på bestilling, så var det livlige og eksperimentelle ting, der ofte kom ud af det (Bondebjerg 2008).

Disse mere eksperimentelle og poetiske dimensioner ved dokumentarfilmen ser man allerede hos den engelske pioner Grierson, som formede udtrykket “creative treatment of actuality”. Vores hjemlige Theodor Christensen tog hurtigt den tendens op og slog til lyd for en kreativ dokumentarfilm.

En realisme, der dramatiserer det moderne liv (…) symbolske lyde, akustisk realisme, kontraster mellem musik og billeder (…) virkelighed, bearbejdet virkelighed, virkelighed i billeder, virkelighed i ord, lyd og musik, som sammen skaber en fortælling, et drama. (Theodor Christensen, 1938, citeret fra Bondebjerg, 2008, s. 19)

Der er altså blevet eksperimenteret og lavet poetiske dokumentarfilm i Danmark siden 1930’erne, og i udlandet allerede fra 1920’erne. Men det er samtidig klart, at det store ryk først kom efter 1960, hvor dokumentarfilmen institutionelt set også blev anerkendt som filmkunst med en mangfoldighed af genrer. I generationen lige før Jon Bang Carlsen er den store skikkelse (still kicking and very much alive!) Jørgen Leth. Siden Det Perfekte menneske (1968) og Livet i Danmark (1972) har han som Jon Bang Carlsen skabt sit helt eget rum og sine egne genrer. Jytte Rex er et andet central navn i denne generation. Men der er i den grad også grund til at pege på fremragende poetiske dokumentarister som Torben Skjødt Jensen, Tomas Gislason, Kassandra Wellendorf, Jeppe Rønde, Dan Säll og Lars Johansson. Man kunne nævne mange flere, og man skal måske samtidig tage i betragtning, at mere poetiske dimensioner ofte indgår i andre af dokumentarfilmens genrer.

Fra Anders Østergaards film Tintin og mig

Sammenglidning af realplan og billedplan i Anders Østergaards Tintin og mig. trætkunsten op i en helt ny dimension. Det gælder for Troldkarlen (1999), Tintin og mig (2004) og Burma VJ (2008), hvor et meget reflekteret og mangesidigt billedsprog udvikles og skaber en stærkt emotionel og refleksiv ramme om forståelsen af den eller de personer, som skildres. Meget stærkt har også Max Kestner markeret sig både i den selvbiografiske familiehistorie Rejsen på ophavet (2004), og i en stærk fornyelsen af den traditionsrige Danmarksfilm i f.eks. Verden i Danmark (2007) og Drømme i København (2010).

Der er dog måske især to navne, som har markeret sig i den poetiske genre. Meget stærkt, både nationalt og internationalt står Anders Østergaard med film der ofte løfter portrætkunsten op til nye højder med avancerede billedmæssige og narrative strategier, som skaber den samme poetisk -refleksive effekt som hos Jon Bang Carlsen. Man ser det allerede i hans film Troldkarlen (1999) om den alt for tidligt døde jazz-musiker Jan Johansson. Man ser det også i hans fremragende og mangesidige portræt af Hergé i Tin Tin og Mig, ligesom han har udviklet teknikken i en politisk film som Burma VJ.

Men også Max Kestner står centralt i den helt nye poetiske film, både med sit underfundige og billedrige, humoristiske og surrealistiske portræt af sig selv og sin familie, Rejsen på ophavet (2004). Han har også totalt fornyet den traditionsrige Danmarksfilm. Først med Verden i Danmark (2007) der fortsætter hans stærke billedrige tradition, men som også udvider opfattelsen af Danmark og dansk kultur ud i en bredere global kontekst. Han gør det samme med den smukke og tankevækkende Drømme i København (2010), som bringer os ind i Københavns dagligliv og op i en politisk og globalt perspektiv.

Jon Bang Carlsen står stærkt og selvstændigt i den poetiske dokumentarisme i Danmark, men som det fremgår er han ikke alene, og netop den form for dokumentarisme har de seneste årtier haft en stærk fremgang i Danmark og i resten af verden. Ved sin 70-årsdag kan han således ikke bare med stolthed se tilbage på en lang og frugtbar karriere, men han kan også se sig selv som en del af en mangesidig tradition, hvor han har en helt selvfølgelig og central historisk plads.

Tillykke med de 70!

 

Referencer

Bondebjerg, Ib (2014). Engaging with Reality. Documentary and Globalisation. Intellect/Chigago University Press.

Bondebjerg, Ib (2008). Virkelighedens fortællinger. Den danske tv-dokumentarismes historie. Samfundslitteratur

Hjort, Mette og Ib Bondebjerg (2000). Instuktørens blik. En Interviewbog om dansk film. Rosinante.

Movin, Lars (2012). Jeg ville først finde sandheden. Rejser med Jon Bang Carlsen. Informations forlag.

 

 

Printed originally in: Nordicom Review, no. 1, 1994, pp. 65-85. The text has been slightly edited for this version.

 

“The issue is not whether reality exists, but whether there is only one way to describe it in all cases (Lakoff 1987: 263)

 

The origin of documentary: document and creativity

The word documentary in connection with visual forms is said to have been used for the first time in 1926 by John Grierson (Corner, John, ed., 1986: vii) in an article on Flaherty’s film Moana. The word was used as a kind of translation of the French word “travelogue”, that is a film documenting a travel, or the ethnographic film, documenting a foreign culture. But as John Corner states: “the project of attempting somehow to “document” real events and circumstances through mechanically recorded images is as old as the technologies themselves.” (Corner, John ed., 1986: vii). In this respect documentary film and television is closely related to the factual forms of journalism (news, current affairs programmes etc.) and the use of film and photo as evidence. In the words of Bill Nichols:

Documentary film, and ethnography in particular, depend heavily upon the indexical nature of the cinematic sign (…) more generally, it is this indexical relation that motivates the use of film footage as courtroom evidence or, with ethnographic film, as cultural evidence” (Nichols, Bill, 1981: 239).

 

In documentary film and television and in other related genres of a factual nature we expect some kind of documentation with a special and direct reference to reality, and even though factual forms and documentary genres may have heavy emotional impact and may document emotional sides of reality, we expect this to be a fact of the profilmic events and not of a narrative construction of a diegetic universe of the film. In 1948 the World Union of Documentary defined documentary film as:

All methods of recording on celluloid any aspect of reality interpreted either by factual shooting or by sincere and justifiable reconstruction, so as to appeal either to reason or emotion, for the purpose of stimulating the desire for, and the widening of human knowledge and understanding and of truthfully posing problems and their solutions in the spheres of economics, culture and human relations. (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 1)

The indexical dimension is central here, and the strong referential notion of a more or less direct relation between film and external reality. However, the quotation also talks of interpretation, allows reconstruction, and it is clear that although the words sincere or truthfully has the connotation of objectivity and empirical truth, documentary is also connected with desire and appeal. In a sociological sense the documentary and factual forms have contextual relations to the conventions and codes working in public communication and the creation of public knowledge and public opinion. This is clearly the case for documentary television programs and journalism, but was also a vital part of the strong British tradition in documentary filmmaking from the 1930’s: the aim was to inform and enlighten or even educate the public, but also to create certain attitudes. Basil Wright, a prominent member of this historical movement, in relation to this simply stated that “documentary is not this or that type of film, but simply a method of approach to public information.” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2)

The various historical definitions of documentary film clearly indicate a movement in two directions: the direction of index, document, truth and reality, and creativity, construction, persuasion and propaganda. John Grierson’s famous definition of the documentary genre as “creative treatment of actuality”, seems to combine the two dimensions in one brief form. In his definition of the documentary forms, the concept of story or narrative form and imaginative interpretation is an integrated part of the understanding of documentary as based on raw reality and the real world. Grierson finds documentary film superior to fiction films in the last respect: documentary narratives of reality in his opinion are stronger stories than fictional ones (Grierson in Forsyth Hardy, 1966). American documentarists often make the same combination of narrative and reality. Pare Lorentz talks about documentary as “a factual film which is dramatic” (quoted in Barsam, R. M., 1973), and Willard Van Dyke defines it as a film where “dramatic conflict represents social or political forces rather than individual ones”. Documentary is given epic quality, but at the same time Dyke ties documentary to “real people, real situations – (…) reality” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2).

Some of the characteristics attached to documentary seem to cross the line between what in common sense separates fiction from non-fiction. The American film maker Philip Dunnes defines documentary as a film of “experimental and inventive” nature, which may “even employ actors” and in which “fantasy or fact” may be the stuff, and which “may or may not possess a plot”. Documentary in his opinion is an “idea-weapon (…) an instrument of propaganda” (quoted from Barsam, R. M., 1973: 2). In the light of this, some prefer to make a main-distinction between fiction film and non-fictional films, making the basic stuff on which the film is based and the reference the crucial distinction: non-fictional films are based on reality and fact. Documentary film is then a special form of non-fiction film along with for instance factual films, travel films, educational films and newsreels (see for instance Barsam, R.M., 1973).

In many ways however, the history of definitions of the documentary film seem to indicate the dominance of a much too empirical, simplistic and objectivistic paradigm of how people and films relate to reality. There is too little focus on the central question in focus in this paper: to what extent can the difference between documentary/non-fiction genres and fiction genres be said to rely on differences on a textual level; how can we define the relation on a cognitive level; and to what extent can the difference be said to rest on pragmatic and contextual factors. The pragmatic dimension of documentary is tied to the question of a specific communicative contract of documentary, the different institutional practices, that separates this contract from the fiction contract. The cognitive dimension has to do with the theory of schemas and the cognitive theory of metaphors, the organization of the mental framework, that we use in our actions and interpretations, formed by our body and perceptual capacities, but also acquired through experience. In a cognitive perspective many of our mental activities do not seem to respect any distinction between fiction and non-fiction or between fiction and real life. On the contrary: basic functions of our mental framework are at work in a similar way whether we are confronted with visual cues in fiction or non-fiction film or in real life situations. There is no doubt that the distinction between fiction and non-fiction is essential to our way of relating to the world and to communication, but the question is on what level and basis this distinction is made and is important.

Against objectivism: the cognitive dimension of metaphor and imagination

In his seminal work Frame Analysis (1974), Erwin Goffman is very polemic towards empiricism and the attempt to define reality in the sense of what is real and what is not, or what is true or false. Instead Goffman turns to a more phenomenological and pragmatic tradition in which we “instead of asking what reality is (must) italicize the following question: Under what circumstances do we think things are real? The important thing about reality (…) is our sense of its realness.” (Goffman, Erwin, 1974: 2). Goffman’s point here is not, that the real world in the physical sense of the word is non-existent outside our mind, nor that the distinction between things we regard as real and things we do not accept as real is not important. Goffman’s observation can rather be regarded as an example of a pragmatic and cognitive theory of how we relate to the world and to visual or linguistic constructions and representations of the world. There is no objective reality that we can reach directly, it will always be mediated and formed by the context and mental framework.

One aspect of Goffman’s approach is to dismiss the notion of reality and truth as such and to replace it with what Alfred Schutz in 1945 called “multiple realities.” Instead of reality “an sich” we have reality for somebody or we may even say, that we have different kinds of reality each with their “style of existence” or “cognitive style”. Life is made up of situations and strips of life with a special kind of framing, and it is difficult to point to any primary reality or any clear hierarchy in our sense of reality. However, Goffman’s theory of framing also tells us that in order to interact and communicate we have to have frames, codes, conventions in our interaction with each other, with texts and films and with reality. Otherwise we would not feel any continuity in our daily lives – and we certainly do. Our communication works, we often get intersubjective contracts on a micro or macro level. In our everyday life and communication we have a highly developed ability to shift frames and enter into various institutionalized practices: reading newspapers, reading novels, going to the movies, watching the news, going to work, conversation in the family and so on.

Pragmatic and cognitive approaches reject what you might call “objectivist theories of meaning and rationality” (Johnson, Mark, 1987: xxii). Objectivism is closely related to the representation theory of how to define fiction vs. factual forms and documentary forms. In objectivism and representational theories, the argument goes something like this: “Meaning is an abstract relation between symbolic representations (either words or mental representations) and objective (i.e. mind independent) reality. These symbols get their meaning solely by virtue of their capacity to correspond to things, properties and relations existing objectively in the world” (Johnson, Mark: 1987: xxii). In such a theory fiction is equal to pure imagination, illusion or even lie, and even documentary and factual forms, defined in principle as objective representation of reality, may have problems with the correct reference or mirroring of the mind independent reality. Against the objectivistic and representational theory Johnson points to the fact, that:

Whether it be for human events or for words and sentences (including visual forms, IB) meaning is always meaning for some person or community. Words do not have meaning in themselves; they have meaning only for people who use them to mean something (…) The Meaning of the symbol stems from the imposition upon it of a certain intentionality, which is always a matter of human understanding. Intentionality is the capacity of a mental state or of a representation of some kind (concept, image, word, sentence) to be about, or directed at some dimension or aspect of one experience(…)meaning is always a matter of relatedness (as a form of intentionality). An event becomes meaningful by pointing beyond itself to prior event structures in experience or toward possible future structures.” (Johnson, Mark, 1987: 177)

The quotation may be said to support a semio-pragmatic approach to communication, as it has been proposed by Roger Odin (1983) and Francesco Casetti (1990), and social semiotics (Dines Johansen 1993). This is related to the pragmatic dimension of the communication contract, but it also supports the cognitive dimension and the importance of our dynamic use of schemas in relation to real world events and to communication in either words or moving images.

It is often claimed about the distinction between fiction and factual forms, that the factual sign/symbol is metonymic/indexical and that the fictional sign is metaphorical/symbolic, or it may even on a different level be said that fictional forms work with things related more to feelings and the imaginary, whereas factual forms address the rational citizen. But this is a question of convention and degree, rather than of nature. Mark Johnson’s argument in The Body in the Mind and in Johnson and Lakoff’s book on Metaphors we live by is that metaphorical ways of reasoning and the use of embodied image-schemata play a major role in our whole way of constructing meaning and experiencing the world. In so far as this penetrates the division between science and art, between rational and emotional ways of thinking, and since this means the elevation of imagination to a very important and general aspect in our mental model- and meaning-building, this is also a factor to be considering in dealing with documentary forms and fictional forms.

In Lakoff’s and Johnson’s theory of metaphors, they try to define a third way, experientalism, between objectivism and subjectivism. Metaphoric ways of understanding pervade our whole reality and our conceptual system is grounded in basically three domains of experience: body-experience, interaction with physical environment and other people, and communications in culture. Each of these basic domains form experiential gestalts, coherent organizations of experience, that form the basis of structured, recurrent concepts and metaphors. The theory of experiental gestalts rejects the objectivist theory. According to objectivism, objects, experiences, texts, and other forms of communication are characterized by inherent properties, that may be categorized in taxonomic, logical, structural sets of properties. But for Johnson and Lakoff this is only a minor part of the experience of reality, language and communication. Most of our experience is most likely organized as interactional properties, where metaphorical connections play an important role, and where we form categories by using prototypes, rather than logically defined categories (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 119-120).

This kind of approach has important consequences not only for linguistic analysis, which is the main area for Lakoff and Johnson, but also for the general approach to genre and to visual communication. Genre in the form of basic genres like fiction and non-fiction, and subgenres like the different forms of fiction-films or documentary films, should be regarded as prototypes rather than fixed categories, and communication of course basically is an interactional activity, where inherent properties are less important than experienced ones. In other words:

Concepts are defined by prototypes and by types of relations to prototypes. Rather than being rigidly defined, concepts arising from our experience are open-ended. Metaphors and hedges are systematic devices for further defining a concept and for changing its range of applicability.” (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 125).

Documentary forms are without doubt in our prototypical understanding of communication related to concepts like truth and knowledge. In his review of Metz’ book L’énonciation impersonelle ou le site du film (1991), Roger Odin defines different modes of reception: the private mode, the fictional mode, the documentary mode, the aesthetic mode, and the artistic mode. He points to the fact that the context of a given film to a large degree determines the mode of reception, that is the framing of the reception is important (Odin, Roger, 1992: 207). Following that he says, that these different modes result in a very different construction of the enunciative structure of the film:

To watch a film in a fictional mode means constructing a form narrative enunciation where you are absorbed and forget the normal reality. To watch a film in the documentary mode implies to construct an enunciation and discourse in which you relate to questions regarding the films relation to a direct reality and to what is true or false

(Odin, 1992: 207, my translation and italics).

 

There is a good correspondence between this semio-pragmatic point of view and the cognitive, semantic approach to the category of truth. What Odin and the whole pragmatic theory makes clear is that there is no essential or objective way from structures of signs to the referent in reality or to the meaning or truth of a given genre. There are different prototypical ways of constructing genres, that are related to prototypical constructions of reception. Truth and reference are not inherent properties in communication, but aspects of interactions with the world based on our experience. However, going from an objectivistic concept of truth to an experientalist theory of truth does not mean to exclude the importance of truth from our life or our communication, it means defining the cognitive dimensions that determine how we approach reality and questions of truth. We base our daily life on what we consider to be true and certain, we act, interact and communicate in god faith and in accordance to principles of sensemaking and cooperation. But the basis of this truth and trust is so natural to us, that it is difficult to be aware of it. However, basically we have different forms of truth, because truth is dependent on categorisation. According to Lakoff and Johnson, this dependency can be defined in at least four ways:

  • truth in any communicated sense is only true relative to some understanding of it
  • understanding involves human categorization of an interactional and functional way based on experiences
  • truth in any communicated sense is relative to the highlighted dimensions, a shift in focus may change the truth or meaning communicated
  • categories used to define or frame communication are neither fixed nor uniform, they are based on prototypical resemblance, and prototypes are adjustable to both contexts and new aspects and experiences (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980: 165-66)

One of the basic aspects of visual communication, compared to linguistic forms of communication, is that both fictional forms and documentary forms have iconic features, they resemble our perception of daily reality. This means that in film and television, more than in other forms of communication, the mental processes in constructing and decoding a film to a large degree make use of every day perception and mental image schemas. One of the main points in the cognitive-pragmatic and experientalist theory is that the traditional concept of correspondence and realism is problematic. Resemblance and correspondence are of course relevant aspects in the sense that communication is about something which we presume exists or corresponds to something in our known world.

Communication must make sense to our experience of reality in the broadest sense – whether we talk of fiction or non-fiction. But this meaning and correspondence cannot be defined in any objective or absolute sense: it is relative, specified and partial and dependent on our framing, understanding and experience. The same goes for our sense of realism. Realism can only in a superficial way be defined as a match between signs and reality, because it is always mediated through culture and through our built in or acquired mental forms. Johnson and Lakoff’s attack on objectivism and the classical realism is in fact an attack on the deep-rooted western dualism between rationality, emotion, and imagination, a dualism often repeated in the definition of fiction vs. non-fiction. However, if metaphorical, metonymic and image-based concepts are basic to our whole way of reasoning and communicating, then this dualism is false.

Lakoff and Johnson’s definition of metaphor as “imaginative rationality” is in itself a metaphor for a way of defining fiction vs. non-fiction. It rejects the traditional dualistic approach, for instance in psycho-semiotic theories of the imaginary signifier, or the classical Freudian definition of dreams and art. Perhaps it is no coincidence then, that documentary forms have been defined – by those making documentaries – as “creative treatment of actuality”, signalling this metaphorical relation to documented reality. The analysis of how documentary genres work is one way of focusing on communicative and cognitive dimensions that transcends the traditional dualism.

“Night Mail” – information and metaphor

Basil Wrights classical documentary Night Mail (1936) is an excellent example of a documentary, where a creative treatment of actuality takes place, and where documentation of a piece of reality is embedded in a metaphorical and lyrical use of image, montage and sound (both music and words). The opening sequences of the film give us a number of pragmatic cues indicating a reading-context and genre-frame of documentary nature. The sender is identified as GPO (General Post Office) and instead of a list of characters we are simply told, that this film is made by Basil Wright with “Workers of the travelling Post Office” and “Workers of the Railway”. The understanding of these institutional signs depends on both our pragmatic, contextual knowledge of the world and our textual schemas.

The film – which lasts 25 minutes – cannot in any way be said to follow a canonical, narrative structure, but on the other hand it cannot be said to follow the classical form of an argument either. It is not an instructional film or straightforward informational film. The macrostructure of the text is the travel, and the identification between the film and its spectator in a cognitive sense rest both on our ability to use textual, documentary schemas and our ability to apply our schematic knowledge of travelling by train and the associations attached to that in the decoding of the film. At the same time however, the spectator will probably also try to establish assumptions about the intentions of the sender to make the film: what kind of message is imbedded? Included in the macro-frame of the film we also find reference to schematic knowledge of typical work-routines and the form of communication in modern life. But on the more local levels of the film text we can identify at least three prototypic structures with distinct visual style and meaning, that may activate different forms of mental schemas.

First of all, we have scenes and situations where workers are filmed on actual locations performing their daily work routines. The scenes have bits of dialogue and natural reality sound. Given the framing of the film as non-fiction, we easily identify the scenes as filmed reality or reconstructed reality, but there are no textual indication allowing us to judge the fictional or non-fictional character of the scene. They might just as well be scenes from a narrative, English fiction film, in fact they have the nature of small pieces of a narrative, diegetic universe. Cognitive processes in relation to these parts of the film may thus in part resemble processes characterizing fiction.

Secondly, we have prototypical scenes with the same kind of structure as the first, but with a more direct informational and factual intention. Here a male voice-over explains the visual scenes as part of a social process of cooperation and communication. We are informed about time and place and we are told about the functions and processes attached to “the travelling post office”. In a strict sense this can be identified with the structure of an argument, where the words explain and the pictures document. This kind of direct address in various forms – the anchor person in news or the journalist speaking directly to us from the field – is prototypical for factual presentations. The mere existence of a voice-over narrator however is not in itself a sign of non-fiction, as Sarah Kozloff has showed in her study of “voice over narration in American fiction film” (Kozloff, Sarah, 1988). But the linguistic nature of the voice over and the direct relation between images and voice over will normally – given the right framing – make us assume, that this is a documentary presentation.

Finally, we have extended prototypical examples of metaphorical and lyrical montage. The filmed elements of reality are still the same, they have the indexical nature of documented reality. But from the start of the film we experience small strips of another kind of rhythmic voice-over spoken in verse (by the English poet W.H. Auden). The spoken verse is underlined by music in adapted rhythm and with changing images of the train, the workers, the nature, the cities, the industries and the telephone wires cut in the same rhythm. This third layer of textuality is increasing in importance and extension during the film, reaching a sort of crescendo approximately 20 minutes into the film. In this way it is given the status of conclusion. The spectator is therefore confronted with a gradual movement away from a basically direct and commented form of a constructed representation of reality to a metaphorical form, a movement from a seemingly direct and determinate reference to a more indirect and indeterminate.

The translation of the metaphor is dependent on the spectator’s stock of metaphorical and schematic knowledge of the world. The text helps and builds up cues, that finally interact in a message concerning the importance of communication, human cooperation and technology in modern society. The train, the mail, the telephone wires interact with the images of nature, city and industry. But without schematic basis in both extra-textual experience and inter- textual experience, this textual construction of meaning does not take place. The example demonstrates on the one hand the pragmatic and cognitive dimensions of interpretation of meaning and reality status, and on the other hand the fact that metaphoric dimensions are clearly not only at work in fiction – they are a vital part of our whole understanding of reality.

Reference in fiction and non-fiction

It follows from this then, that the difference between a fiction film and a documentary film is not whether it is a true representation of reality or not, or whether it is about our external reality as such or not. In almost any visual communication there is some kind of resemblance with our known everyday reality, and fiction certainly gets its fascination from the fact, that it is about our reality, though in a special way. The American film theorist Edward Branigan therefore claims that sometimes you may read a given film in a meaningful way both as fiction and non-fiction. Both responses may be considered real in as far as they make us relate what we see to our daily life, our experience of the world.

Normally we will not perform fictional readings of documentary films, but under certain contextual circumstances we may switch between modes. As Odin (Odin, Roger, 1983 and Stam, Robert, et al., 1992: 214) has argued, fictionalization is a semio-pragmatic process with a number of interacting operations: figurativisation, diegeticisation, narrativisation, demonstration, belief, mise-en-phase and fictivisation. But this fictionalisation process may be blocked because we come to the film without sufficient context and knowledge, or because we may zap into a programme, that is already half finished. Non-fictionalization is only in principle the opposite of fictionalization, but as Odin points out more likely a sort of blocking of some of the usual processes of fictionalization – seldom all of them. In any case – apart from the semio-pragmatic aspect – the cognitive dimension tells us, that the mental process of decoding fiction and non-fiction pictures may have much in common on a certain basic level – for instance character-reading and identification.

Metaphorical mechanisms thus have pervasive influence on our mental and communicative practices, but narrative structures are of equally basic importance to all areas of communication and understanding. Not only the semiotic tradition but also the cognitive tradition tells us, that narrative structures and narrative comprehension mechanisms play an important role in natural language, in fiction, in news, in documentaries and in the reading of real-life situations. We construct stories all the time, and we look for narrative clues in order to be able to make sense of things.

To look for the distinctive difference between fiction and non-fiction in specific textual features related to either narrative structure vs. non-narrative structure, in the use of narrator or in stylistic features, therefore will lead nowhere. Obviously, we can define textual elements that will usually be more dominant in non-fiction than in fiction, for instance the use of interview or a narrator with direct address to the spectator. But it will always be possible to find examples to contradict the general tendency. As we have seen the question of truth and reference also create difficulties, when used in too abstract and objectivist sense. In conclusion Branigan says:

Thus, neither truth-claims nor rhetoric can be taken as features that distinguish between fiction and non-fiction. Rather my argument will be, that the method or procedure for making decisions about assigning reference is different in each case even if the results are the same (i.e., knowledge about some condition in the world)” (Branigan, 1992: 193).

Branigan then defines the difference not in essence and aesthetics, but in the context and mental procedures determining the way the reference to a meaningful reality is made:

Fictional terms denote real things, though not determinate ones (…) A fiction does not determine exactly which object it represents, and this openness is what distinguishes fictional reference from other sorts of reference (…) to interpret a symbol fictionally is to operate in a precarious, intermediate zone between sets of possible references (open functions) and a specific reference (…) Considered as a cognitive activity, fiction is a complex way of comprehending the world in which one is first required to hold open sets of variables while searching for a reasonable fit between language and lived experience, between sets of symbols and acts of the body (…) fiction is a partially determined reference which is initially neither true nor false, its usefulness must be found and determined” (Branigan, 1992: 194 -196).

In fiction we have an open kind of reference, which has to be decided and worked out, and in fiction the process of relating the visual events to the profilmic events is not the normal procedure. Rather the viewer tends to construct a post-filmic reality in which structures of the film are discovered and translated. Branigan – just like Lakoff and Johnson and Odin – defines reference, not as a product of objective processes and features of the text in itself, but as a product of human design and use, “based on the rules, habits and conventions of a community of individuals.“ (Branigan, 1992: 197). In all forms of reception there is therefore more than one translation to a meaningful world and more than one kind of reference, but perhaps this is more the case for fiction than for non-fiction. However, there are not endlessly many translations and receptions, since basic mental processes and mental schemas tend to be in function also. Variations occur, but on the basis of often common and shared views and perceptions, otherwise communication and understanding would be impossible.

In the typical documentary film on the other hand, we assume that there is a more direct and determined and causal relation between the film pictures and the profilmic event. More important, although a documentary film is also constructed and not a copy of reality, the mental activities in the reception of a documentary film may depend more easily on what Branigan calls the “social conventions and categories of causality in a community.” (Branigan, 1992: 204). There seems to be a more direct way of reference in documentary and other non-fiction forms, because documentary films address us, as already pointed out, as members of a more defined community, and usually with a more precisely defined public theme. As a consequence of this difference, the degree of openness and indeterminable character built into a fictional text might be said to demand a more dynamic use of prior knowledge structures and mental frames and schemas, it puts a delay and expansion on the degree of instant framing and schema-use (Branigan, 1992: 195).

The indexical and iconic nature of documentary film makes it more common to suppose, that spectators will try to make direct assumptions about the profilmic reality and its relation not only to the filmed version, but also to the public and private reality of daily life. In fact, one of the main points of documentary fascination, besides the desire to know, probably is the authenticity-effect. When confronted with strong scenes in fiction film, war and murder for instance, we probably use the same kind of mental and emotional procedures in our reading, as in documentary film. But in the case of fiction we add a frame of as-if, whereas in documentary we establish another kind of real-link reference.

Schema-theory and documentary

In cognitive schema-theory the concept of “default assumptions” play an important role. In his book on cognitive psychology The Society of Mind (Minsky, 1985), Marvin Minsky deals with the concept of frame. His definition of frames has much in common with the concept of prototype and Goffman’s concept of frame: “A frame is a sort of skeleton, somewhat like an application form with many blanks or slots to be filled. We’ll call these blanks its terminals; we use them as connection points to which we can attach other kinds of information.” (Minsky, Marvin, 1985: 245). A frame then connects our general knowledge and experience with particular instances of representations, objects or situations. When we see a particular sequence or scene in a movie or enter a room in real life, we instantly recognize and interpret the whole set of visual cues and objects: we make sense of or recognize what we see and translate it to familiar terms. This process in cognitive terms is based on the fact that “each perceptual experience activates (…) frames – structures we’ve acquired in the course of previous experience. We all remember millions of frames each representing some stereotyped situation.” (Minsky, 1985: 244).

Given the impact and quantity of impulses we get, in reality and in watching tv and film, a lot of our perception of the world has to be done on a more or less non-conscious way based on firmly established schemas or scripts. We use the phrase to watch film and television, but in fact visual communication is only one aspect of many: visual cues can be found in the system of montage and the composition of the single shot, and audio signals are received as both sounds, music and linguistic information, and besides that interpersonal and interactional information is very important together with the reading of body language and facial impressions. Default assumptions then is what helps us quickly to process these multiple forms of information. They fill out what is missing to form a typical representation or meaning and they help us select and focus on what is important and what is less important. Through default assignments our mental frames are constantly set to work when we interact with the world and with communication. Frames and default assumptions allow us to reason, generalize and to predict, foresee or deduct what may happen or has happened. Since frames are fuzzy categories dominated by default assumptions, we often have to adjust them or reorganize them, when we are confronted with new experiences or new forms of communication (Minsky, 1985: 245 and 246).

Minsky’s concept of frame resembles the concept of schema very much. This concept has been used especially by Schank and Mandler (Mandler, 1984 and Schank, 1990) in the analysis of how narrative structures works in our memory. Mandler works with a basic story schema and with event schemas and scene schemas. Experiments show that people have mental and cognitive structures that are made up by a number of basic experiences with stories and how stories are structured. Very early in life we are able to recognize a basic story structure and to use it in both production and reception. The same goes for a number of events and scenes organized as thousands of experiences with specific and generalized events and scenes. We carry a catalogue of event- and scene-schemas around in our minds, schemas that allow us quickly to respond to and understand situations in daily life. We interpret the world and communication on the basis of frames and schemas and we tend to choose those that seem to match most readily with what we see. Our schemas and frames may vary according to our experience and daily routines and our prior knowledge of communication forms, so that basic functions may differ from person to person. But it is also clear, that within a given community or a wider culture, story, event- and scene-schemas are shared structures.

We use schemas and frames on a default basis and on the basis of almost automatic matching. It seems that if our first match does not make sense we start again and make use of more expanded networks of assumptions. Fiction (and probably even more complicated forms of documentary genres, that mix fictional and factual forms) activate large networks of assumptions, and tend in some cases to challenge our default assumptions and deeply imbedded schemas and frames. The concept of genre can be defined as a special combination of expected story structure and scene- and event-schemas and a number of other frames or schemas from experience with communication and real life. The viewing of a given film may be characterized as a constant negotiation between frames and schemas and the cues from the text. Negotiation takes place both on the macrolevel of the text and on a more local microlevel. There are indications in cognitive research, that the establishing of a contract on a macro-level between the program and the viewer is strong in the beginning. Mandler (Mandler, 1984: 55 f) refers to the fact that a number of studies on the pace of reading at the beginning of different kinds of stories show, that people read very slowly at the beginning of a text and then speed up. This may indicate, that it takes some time to establish the main-contract and to get frames and text to work together. But once the main- direction of the story is established, we read faster because we can use our adjusted default assumptions more unconsciously.

Reception of fiction and non-fiction

There has been some empirical testing done on the use of schemas in the reception of both fiction and non-fiction. The non-fiction tested is both television news and documentaries. It is a well stated fact, that when asked about their interest in watching factual tv- programs and films, people will refer to cognitive benefits in a more rational sense of this term: the need for knowledge, for being updated on public matters and public conversation and for information making it possible to act in and evaluate social, political and cultural life (Gunter, 1991). However, when people are asked to retell news-stories or to answer simple questions about information given in news, they often fail or make mistakes. The results show variations depending on peoples acquired knowledge from other sources and their general schemas, and there are also indications that the use of for instance narrative schemas and strong cooperation between visual and linguistic information may improve reception-output. The empirical testing may indicate, that other schemata, than simply knowledge-schemata are at work in even the most factual form of all, television news.

One researcher (Bruhn Jensen, 1987) has formulated the hypothesis, that people often tend to respond to particular news stories through different super- themes, a form of culturally established event- or story-schemas. Along the same line, empirical testing through interviewing (Höijer, 1992 and 1992a) shows, that people use schemata of the same sort when responding to fiction and non- fiction. Höijer talks about our cognitive structures as organised in a complex network related to our experiences: universal experiences (basic to all humans), cultural experiences (specific for members of a more or less defined community) and private experiences (unique for each individual). In one study (Höijer, 1992), she tested the reception of a tv-science magazine program on AIDS and she found, that viewers related to the program with schemata often related to the psychologically and concrete experience on a both universal and personal level.

The identification with characters in the program is strong, and the retelling of the program is detailed and filled with associative processes between program and viewer. The more general, informational aspects of the program on the other hand was not captured in a very clear manner. Despite the factual character of the program, it was clearly a more associative and metaphorical approach that dominated. However, variations in the use of schemas could also be found in the use of schemas, that showed cultural variations, for instance related to professional experiences or very private experiences. But the main result is the strong dominance of universal schemas in the emotional relation to the program.

Another more complicated study (Höijer, 1992a) tests the use of schemas in relation to both serial-fiction and tv-news, and is supplemented by a study (Höijer, 1992b), that also includes documentaries. Höijer defines a number of so-called social schemas among which we find not only story schema, event schema and scene schema, but also person schema, role schema and self-schema, the last three relating to how we interpret and process information about characters in real life and media. She then defines different experience spheres such as the private sphere, the occupational sphere and the media sphere, in which we can define both more general schemas and domain-related schemas. In her conclusion

she says:

The viewers had a tendency to use a mix of cognitive schemas from various experience spheres, and this tendency is valid across genres. At the same time, there were differences between different viewers as well as between different genres, in how predominant the schemas originating from different experience spheres were (…) In order to make sense of a television program, the viewer must find connections between the text and her or his own inner world. One characteristic of the inner world is that it is cognitively organized in fuzzy schemas representing generic social experiences, cultural knowledge and specific personal experiences (…) Which mix of schemas is activated depends partly on central conceptions in the viewers thinking, partly on the text. (Höijer, 1992a: 294 and 299-300).

One of her findings were, that a national tv-serial of a “realistic” nature activated more personal schemas and opened up for referential interpretations, whereas an American soap seemed to activate more general and intertextual schemas and less referential interpretation. Interestingly enough, her findings at the same time indicate, that documentaries activated very emotional and personal patterns of interpretation and schemas, and it was very clear, that people related to the programs as to real life persons and situations, there was no distancing or reference to textual schemas. In fact, realistic national fiction and documentaries seemed to activate a number of equivalent schemas, a fact that underlines one of the fundamentals in the cognitive theory of metaphor, namely that it crosses the line of fiction and non-fiction.

This is also underlined in an empirical study on childrens way of reading either in a fictional or a factual mode (Steffensen, Bo, 1991). The children were given three fictional texts (on a scale from realism to fantasy) and were asked to identify them either as non-fiction or fiction and to give arguments for their choice. The children frequently mistook the most realistic of the fictional stories for factual, and they typically used arguments like:

  • the text gives direct information and enlightenment about the world
  • the text can be used for guidance in how to behave or what to think
  • the text has direct reference to reality and a high degree of truth-value
  • the interaction between text and reader is based on identification with the reality described and its alikeness with the readers reality.

Reality, imagination and identification: cinema verité narration

A number of the problems related to the more philosophical definition of fiction vs. non-fiction lie, as already pointed out in the tendency to create a principal distinction between reality/fact/ logic and fiction/illusion/lie. As pointed out in the cognitive tradition (see Johnson 1987 and Grodal, 1993: 26 f) this distinction is problematic since processes like imagining, playing, simulation and metaphoric structuring are all a vital part of our way of relating to and thinking about the real world and our normal, daily, mental processes and our reasoning.

As Torben Grodal has pointed out all “higher animals are able to perform in both an ‘actual’ and a ‘hypothetical-playful mode’” (Grodal, 1993: 27), and this seems to indicate, that the fictional mode is part of reality and also, that in relating to fiction we use schemas and other mental processes, which are also found in our relation to real life situations. When we use our memory or when we make plans and imagine things we want to do or are in fact going to do, or when the scientist is trying to work out a new theory, in all these cases we simulate and make pretend, we create ‘fictions’.

It is of course important for us to realize when we are in the actual mode, and when we are in the hypothetical mode. In the same manner it is important to know the reality- status of a given visual product, the mode in which it addresses us. However, this does not mean that there is a huge difference in our way of relating to the world of fictional genres and the world of non-fiction genres. The empirical testing has indicated a number of similar schemas and a number of similar ways of emotional identification and referential processes. To say that fiction appeals to imagination and emotion through a direct identification with the story and the characters, and that non-fiction mainly addresses the rational side of reality, truth and arguments is only partly true. In fact, documentaries may possess strong emotional identification possibilities, and strong narrative structure, and the reality-status may even increase the emotional impact.

This is for instance often the case in documentaries of the ‘cinema verité-type’, where the use of experts and direct address is minimalized and characters perform in their actual environment or address us more indirectly. In his analysis of Frederick Wisemans documentaries, Bill Nichols (1981: 208 f) stresses the mosaic, situational, narrative structure of Wisemans films and their metaphorical and associative nature. Though he basically defines documentaries as an expositional form, where arguments and rhetoric dominate, he defines the documentary nature of Wisemans films as a sort of fiction-like mosaic of strips of life characterized by a diegetic unit where spatial and temporal unity prevails. The profilmic reality is framed as a series of institutionally and socially coded local narratives from which the viewer will have to construct the overall meaning and message, without help from the authoritative voice of the narrator.

This tendency is strongly represented in modern tv-documentaries. On Danish television Lars Engels recently finished a series of 5 documentaries on life at Vesterbro, one of the old inner-city milieus of Copenhagen, dominated by working class people, poverty, drugs, violence and prostitution. All the programs begin with a birds eye view over the city by night. The sound of the city is dramatically raised to an unnatural degree: we hear at a close distance but see things from a distant and elevated perspective. Then after some time the title of the program and the credits are announced and the camera is slowly lowered down into the reality, which is to be portrayed. There is no voice over or explanatory narration, but simply the observation of situations, persons and scenes, sometimes dramatic, sometimes just documenting routines of daily life. The camera is a silent witness, an ethnographic eye on the local subculture, and the director only visible through the editing and selection, and in glimpses also as an interviewer. What we get is an impressionistic mosaic of voices, characters, scenes, situations, a fragmented narrative of reality. The film may resemble a social realistic fiction film, and certainly we relate to it much the same way we would if it was a fiction film reconstructing actual life or a real-life observation of that same reality. But given the context we do of course use the frame documentary for it, a documentary with strong elements of emotional identification and use of imagination to fill out the blanks in the glimpses of a story and a personal life we see.

In many ways this example, as well as Night Mail shows, that the documentary genre has a special position inside the general frame of non-fiction. Probably the common sense notion of non-fiction or the prototypical concept of a factual, visual program is the live-reportage and the news-program. None of these programs however can be said to mirror reality or present objective reality and truth. In a common sense perspective people might respond to programs of that genre as telling the truth or reporting reality. But in fact, this is a product of cultural, institutional and contextual processes. The national news represents the mental model of trustworthiness, authority and knowledge, and in the case of live- reportage our direct mental model will be one, that creates the feeling of direct and un-mediated interaction with the reality communicated. Most of us know, that live-transmissions represent a perspective on reality that is framed and often beyond normal perception (in football you see the same action from different angles and repeated in slow motion), and that the presentation of news is a selection according to a specific news-code. But given the culturally defined “spaces of communication” in Odin’s sense (Odin, 1983) we have what we may define as a graded categorization (Lakoff, 1987: 287) of what is factual, defined by our institutionalized communicative genres and acts. And in the case of mass communication genres, news, live-reportage, factual programs and to a certain degree documentaries come close to our understanding of the prototype of factual information to be found also in classroom interaction, courtroom interaction and the like.

Our understanding of genres: schematics of categorization

We can visualize the grading of visual genres on a line reaching from fiction in one end to non-fiction in the other end, or we may visualize the relation as a radial categorization, where all genres can be seen as some kind of overlapping network structure based on the principle of centre – periphery (Lakoff, George, 1987: 287). It is much more difficult to see visual genres categorized in logical hierarchies, since we have basically defined genres as fuzzy prototypes. Documentary genres generally are placed somewhere round the centre of the radial line. They are allowed more rhetorical freedom of expression and “creative treatment of” reality/actuality that those genres at the factual point of the line. Documentary genres have often challenged and moved the frames of normal factual presentation and journalism.

This has also lately been the case with the television-documentary, where a new kind of norm for public communication has changed the line between the public sphere and “front stage” and the access to and importance of “back stage” information (Meyrowitz, 1985). In this kind of modern television documentary, fiction modes and documentary modes are mixed together with basic generic prototypes such as for instance crime, melodrama and romance. In 1990 the Danish tv-documentary director Ulrik Holmstrup was given the TV-price for the program De voksne børn (“The grown-up children”). It is a 55 min. long documentary dealing with the social and psychological problems arising from family life with an often single, unemployed and alcoholic mother, where children are forced to take on the role of parent. The program will no doubt and without problems be decoded and categorized as a documentary by the average Danish viewer. But if we study the operations, particularly in the beginning of the program, we can identify very different processes of this documentization (as opposed to the above-mentioned Odin-notion of fictionalization) and more or less central aspects of the documentary contract. These elements are differently situated on the graded line from fiction to non-fiction.

First of all we have presentation and signature representing what you might call pragmatic and contextual cues. They are part of the borderline-ritual that is an important part of all communicative genres and have been defined in speech act theory as signs of pragmatic macrostructures (Dijk, 1980: 175 f). Is this case the presentation defines the topic and social problem addressed in the program and in fact the genre. The signature identifies both the institution and the genre in typed letters on a blue background, accompanied by the sound of a typewriter and a single musical tone rising in loudness. The signature is metaphoric and combines the sign of the working journalist and the authority of writing/logos/the word with the sign of the institution and its image of objectivity.

Then we have interview-sequences, that is sequences where we see a speaking person in the picture, either an “expert-witness” (in the program for instance a psychologist and a social worker), a “victim-witness” ( the grown up children or their parents) and the “milieu-witness” (persons related to or with knowledge about the cases and the victims). It is a characteristic feature of the program, that the interview-questions are left out, so that the interviews almost all the time appear as statements or personal life-stories narrated directly to the camera and the viewer – seldom though with direct, frontal eye-contact. The use of expert- witnesses is also very limited, and in the very first sequence of the program, an expert-witness, the psychologist briefly identifies the problem, seen from the systems point of view, but she is not identified (name, title on the screen) as such.

So, although the first sequences of the program signal fact and documentary, the discourse is not arranged as a clear hierarchy with a factual voice-over on top. The tendency is to let reality speak out and narrate itself. Another type of sequences is prelude– and interlude– or concluding sequences. It is a series of very complex statements in words, images and music functioning as a kind of metaphoric scripts for the overall meaning of the program. They structure the thematic universe and create an imaginative, lyrical and emotional background for the different stories narrated and showed in the program. Scripts in the cognitive theory (Mandler, 1984) are mental models of prototypical actions and events, and in this case the scripts that are evoked have to do with expectations of family life and the schemata related to roles and processes involving children, parents and growing up. Our normal schemas are challenged and reversed in this program, and a lot of our automatic default assumptions are denied normal functioning. The program has an impact on both universal and personal schemas that will elicit strong emotional identification and memories.

The metaphoric sequences are used for the first time right after the sequence with the psychologist. We see a peaceful, idyllic landscape with almost unnaturally green pastures, yellow flowers, trees, a blue sky and a landscape with one road. The pictures are underlined by classical, soft guitar- music. After a short while a female voice-over, identified on the screen as “Dorte, 23 years” starts telling the story of her former life as a grown-up child of only 8 years of age. As she speaks a little girl trying to master a much to big lady-bike comes into the picture, following the road she continues with great difficulty towards the top of a little hill. Dorte concludes her story with a remark about how the authorities came into her life, and as she says “that was the first time anyone ever bothered to listen to my story”, the little girl on the bike reaches the top of the hill, and where she disappears the title of the program rises like the sun.

The rhetorical richness and the potential frames and schemas evoked in this little piece of visual narrative is as complex as a piece of fiction, although the macro-frame is undoubtedly documentary. The relation between words, music and visual metaphors can be defined both as a typical, factual relation (words determine visuals) or a typical fictional (a diegetic universe of an action to be translated to real life). And these kinds of sequences are used through the program as interludes, whenever there is a shift in discourse. The sequences may vary slightly in style and content, but in the concluding metaphorical sequence there is a more fundamental change. Here the girl of the much to big bicycle returns, and the prelude is repeated, with one big change: at the end the girl throws away the bicycle and continues on her own two feet. A metaphorical conclusion containing the morale and conclusion of the program.

The main part of the program however is based on two case-stories, the story of the girl Moni and the story of the boy Dennis. Both stories follow a kind of narrative and dramatic structure, and they are told with a form and content pretty close to a social melodrama or a soap. The actual rhetorical and aesthetic form of the two stories vary. If we take Moni’s story as example, then the first sequence of this sub-narrative starts right after the metaphoric prelude described above. First, we start with an extreme close up at the eye of a child (Moni) lying awake in her bed at night. In the background we hear the noises of the big city, we return to the girl, then to the city at night, cars driving, people running, police sirens and flashing lights, a squeaking and swinging signpost in front of a night café. Then we return to the bed with the child, we see another child next to her, we return to Moni’s face and then Moni’s voice starts as an off-screen narrator: “Sometimes she doesn’t come home at night” – referring to the mother. Then we cut to a new scene, Moni, her sister and her mother sitting in their living room, watching tv together. Then finally we hear a journalistic voice-over narrator, telling us about the situation and the persons on the screen. After that we return to Moni’s voice-over narration of her own story, visualized in typical everyday situations. At a certain point the off-screen narration is suddenly changed and we see her as speaking person in the picture.

If a spectator zapped into the program from the beginning of this case-story, he/she would probably have difficulties identifying part of the sequences as either fiction or documentary. However, the specific use of off-screen narrator, combined with journalistic voice-over would work as signs of the documentary frame. But to a large degree this special form of cinema verité narration uses “internal focalization” normally expected of a fictional discourse. The film makes use of identification, metaphor and image schemas in order to create a richness of both internal and external reference to reality, private memories, universal categories and public debate.

Crime-fiction and investigative journalism: Errol Morris’ documentary “The Thin Blue Line.”

In Bill Nichols analysis of film genre and film narration (Nichols, Bill, 1981), he makes a distinction between narrative, exposition and poetics, a division he roughly makes equivalent with fiction, documentary and experimental film. Documentary in Nichol’s sense is tied to non-narrative, to arguments and rhetorical textual strategies. The film addresses us directly and indirectly, trying to persuade or convince us. Relating to the more textual and enunciative level this may lead to the conclusion, that the classical documentary normally presents itself through what Branigan calls “non-focalized or externally focalized narration” in order to stress the public or intersubjective aspects of meaning and reference (205-206). Normally then, says Branigan, internal focalization through a character is not common, and this in turn makes the use of dream sequences, subjective flashbacks, point of view shots rare in documentary. In fact, Branigan sees the process of constructing meaning and making reference in fiction or non-fiction as a difference also of levels in relation to the narrated world and the assigning of authority.

In a way non-fiction places the authority of interpretation at a very high level: the non-fiction mode starts with the assumption, that this is the registration of a specific part of real life, and from there the spectator works his way into the text. In the fiction mode, we are absorbed at the lower level of the diegetic universe and from there we try to construct meaning and story on a higher level. Documentary forms tend to limit the “range of interpretation” through minimizing the amount of diegetic narration or at least to motivate it in a very specific way, whereas fictional forms tend to expand the range of interpretation through extended use of diegetic narration and more different forms of focalization. (Branigan, 1992: 204-205). Again, this is not a difference in nature, but a difference in convention and degree.

In Errol Morris’ documentary film The Thin Blue Line (1988) – dealing with a man probably innocently accused of police murder – the clear line between documentary mode and fictional mode is in fact very thin. Although Morris’ film, just as Holmstrup’s Danish film, clearly guides the spectator into a documentary space of communication, they also both rely heavily on our ability to use basic story schemas and genre-frames most often used in fiction. In Errol Morris’ case it is the combination of investigative journalism and the crime series or police-story genre format that form the overall macrostructure of the text. The total structure of the text can be seen as a very repetitive, arguing story, where different versions and interpretations of a case are confronted, and where the spectator symbolically is given a place as a member of a jury. But the film also has a very narrative and dramatic structure, partly divided in chapters, following events or leaping back and forth in time. One element is also the use of old crime-film- footage of a fictional nature in the explanation of the psychology of some of the witnesses. So, the spectator is left with a lot of narrative clues and has to work hard to construct a coherent story.

In his book Representing Reality (1991) Bill Nichols distinguishes between four basic modes of documentary: the expository mode (the classical documentary with direct address and authoritative message and comment), the observational mode (where the authoritative voice is removed in favor of the mere representation of a piece of reality), the interactive mode (where the maker of the film directly in production and on the film interacts with his object and the characters) and the reflexive mode (where the film and its status as a documentary somehow is involved as a meta-dimension). Often these modes are mixed in concrete films, and Morris’ film is at least a mixture of the observational mode and the reflexive.

The authoritative voice of the documentary producer, or the hierarchy of interviewed voices and “experts” is abandoned, and in fact the film seems to deal with the fragile concept of fact, truth and reality in itself. In one comment on the film Nichols characterizes the stylistic use of oblique framings and angles in the film, the use of extreme close up on persons and objects and the decontextualization and fragmentation of objects and scenes in the film as a clear indication of reflexivity and undermining of the indexical authenticity of the film as argument and evidence (Nichols, 1991: 270 n. 18).

Again, if we look at the first part of the film, the establishing of the contract between film and spectator, the documentation-process is complex. The sender is identified on the screen as an “American Playhouse Presentation” and An Errol Morris film, and the title is presented through white letters on a black background, where the word blue is red and with a horizontal blue line dividing the letters in two. At the end of the film the title is explained as a quotation from one of the police witnesses in court: “The thin blue line of police, that separate the public from anarchy.” The following credits indicate documentary, no characters and players are identified, only the production team. However, this textual presentation, underlined by Philip Glass original, disturbing, circular music also clearly has metaphoric elements, and the play with colours and the title-quotation raises the question, what blue line we are talking about – not police/anarchy perhaps, but rather reality/fiction, truth/fabrication.

The rest of the eight-minute long establishing sequence is divided into the following prototypical forms

  • purely audiovisual interludes ( for instance pictures of cityscapes and buildings, flashing police light, city maps and birds eye view of landscapes, signposts etc.) that have both indexical character in so far as they are related to the case, but also function as symbolic signs of change in discourse or tone or metaphoric indicators of the programs whole questioning of truth and justice in American society. The city where the crime takes place is Dallas, and the Dallas-pictures used are clearly intertextually related to the soap by that name, just as the Kennedy- shooting is mentioned several times.
  • voice over narration by the two men involved as suspects in the case or the police officers involved, with pictures illustrating parts of the story or documenting details of events and scenes.
  • person in picture narration with the same persons looking almost directly into the camera.
  • reconstructions /e-enactments of the supposed events and the crime, either with voice over narration by the to suspects, or the police officers, with different possible versions confronted in reconstructed scenes or just in words, or with only pictorial narration of for instance the shooting of the police officer, where the actual body of the dead, photos and newspaper articles form the basis of the reconstruction.

The re-enactments are repeated again and again in different forms and versions, and both the visual cues and narrative scenes, the statements represented, the supposed pieces of evidence and quotations from press and courtroom- transcripts, all this makes it very likely, that the cognitive activity of the spectator takes the form of a constant testing and re-evaluation of activated schemas and default assumptions. This particular example of a documentary mode does not try to limit the range of possible interpretations, the indexical quality of the images is doubtful and the relation between signs and referent is very indeterminate.

Besides that, we actually see reality presented in several internally focalized forms, there is no last instance of control and no easy way to intersubjective coherence on the level of either narrative or argument. Not until the final sequence of the film – where the second suspect, who is now condemned to death for another murder, and who may have done the police killing, for which the other is serving a life time sentence, seem to admit, that he and the police framed an innocent man – the spectator is given fulfilment for the desire to know. Thus, narrative desire and fictional construction-processes combine with the documentary desire to know and documentary construction – a detective story in documentary disguise or vice versa.

The documentary contract: Pragmatic dimensions of the documentary

It is possible to see the cognitive dimension of audio-visual decoding processes as a part of the pragmatic dimension. What the cognitive dimension tells us is how big a role our acquired mental framework and schemas play in the interaction with texts, and through the cognitive dimension the institutional context gets a psychological foundation. However, the pragmatic dimension of both the documentary contract and fictional contract is not just the result of psychological and mental forms, but also of socially and culturally defined institutional practices. Such institutional contexts have mental representation, because our schemas are based on previous communication experiences. We have prototypes of contextual situations in our mental toolbox. But nevertheless, pragmatic context and contract is also a vital part of textual and communicative practices.

The cognitive dimension points to processes often unconscious or automatic and to more or less universal structures and processes based on the way our brain and body works. The pragmatic dimension deals with general processes of a more conscious kind and defined by more specific textual, social and cultural elements. When we speak of communication in a more sociological sense and genres in communication it is also important to see this in the image of an ongoing negotiation and cooperation between agents and the text in a given context.

The specific form of this communicative process of interaction between a sender, a text and a receiver is what defines a contract in a given genre in a sociological and textual sense. The contract for a talk show on television for instance is both similar to and very different from a gameshow, and a similar relation could be defined for the overall fictional contract and documentary contract. In pragmatic theory communication is a game based on specific rules and conventions in some kind of institutional context, where meaning is the result of interaction, construction and some basic form of generic contract between sender-”text”-receiver (Rorty, 1982: 110).

This pragmatic point of view can be defined on a macrolevel for instance through speech act theory (Searle, 1969). This is the case in attempts to define the fictional speech act (Kjørup, 1978, Lanser, 1981, Pratt, Mary Louise, 1977) or the so-called “Akte des fingieren” in Isers theory of reading (Iser, 1978, and 1983). Also in Teun van Dijk’s book on Macrostructures (Dijk, 1980) we find the definition of textual superstructures, such as narrative and argument, and we find an attempt to define pragmatic macrostructures, that organize different forms of speech acts. However, these pragmatic theories are still very general and mostly used in relation to linguistics and not visual communication.

In Pratt’s and Lanser’s theory of literature and fiction as a specific speech act they start out by trying to define the fictional speech act as either a specific type of illocutionary act not described in Searles typology (representatives, directives, commissives, expressives and declarations). They describe fiction speech acts as “hypotheticals” (Lanser, 1981: 289), or as a kind of “quasi speech act”, that uses the form of normal elocutionary acts, but at the same time suspends the normal rules for such acts. In Wolfgang Isers definition of “Akte des fingierens/pretending acts” he defines this act as the relation between “das reale/the real”, “das fiktive(the fictional” and “das imaginäre/the imaginary”. That is the fictional discourse is a special kind of speech act in a kind of “as-if-mode”, where the normal procedures for the reader/viewers construction of the referent are suspended, and the reference instead is made through the fictional interaction between the real and the imaginary. But where Iser places the fictional, one might add the documentary, in so far as the documentary mode can be defined as a kind of interaction where the difference to the fictional act is one aspect, but where nevertheless, the interplay between the real and the imaginary is also an important aspect. All in all, the results of speech act theory in defining fictional speech acts so far has not resulted in a clear definition of the codes and rules involved. All theorists in the end turn to more fuzzy, prototypical pragmatic and contextual rules and to specific institutional formations of genres, that activates specific decoding activities given the right textual signal:

The fictional signal indicated in the text will not work as such if not specific variations of historical conventions are shared by the author and the audience and understood as such. The fictional signal does not define fiction in itself, but the contract between author and writer, and the conventions of this contract, which the text does not carry as discourse, but as a staged discourse. (Iser,1983: 135, my translation).

The context forming the basis of a communicative contract has a number of important dimensions. The first dimension is the institutional, that is the context defining the sociological and cultural structure of the media and communication situation in general (public television, commercial television, cinema etc.). The second dimension is the intertextual, that is the more specific textual, cultural and psychologic aspects of genres and the relation between genres, that are activated, when we interact with a text. We interact by prototypical expectation, recognition and comparison, and we respond to signals not only in the text but also signals surrounding texts. The third dimension is what we could call experiental, following Johnson and Lakoff’s definition of how we acquire our knowledge, attitudes, concepts etc. from our body experience and our interaction with the world. This dimension, combines our social and cultural experiences and the cognitive structuring of our mind and emotion and thus the frames and schemas we are likely to apply on texts. The fourth and final dimension is the situational, that is the very concrete time, place and circumstances of a given communicative interaction.

What this article has tried to work out in a more detailed manner is the intertextual and experimental dimension of the documentary contract in close comparison to the fictional contract. Both the intertextual and experimental dimension tells us, that a number of textual elements by convention more often are found in documentary, than in fiction, but also that documentary is placed on a very flexible, graded line of generic prototypes ranging from fiction to non-fiction. There are numerous examples of mixing of textual formats, but it is also clear, that our cognitive ability to act in either an “actual” or a “hypothetical” mode constitutes different forms of “realness” and different forms of reference in fiction and documentary. Our mental activity in relation to real life situations and visual information in either documentary and fictional form are often very alike on a basic level, and we use imagination, emotion and metaphoric understanding across these lines. But since it is still important to distinguish fact from fiction, the ability to decide this is part of our mental “hardware”, and as a socially and historically acquired competence it is both a product of cognitive and semio-pragmatic dimensions.

 

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