the point is that yesterday's show was a children's group from the UK:
the premise of this show – like most productions aimed at kids – is to teach manners and good habits. there is lots of call and response, of course, and this particular narrative centers around a pigeon who is always trying to get into trouble: staying up late, not sharing his hot dog, etc.
(as an aside, the pigeon is referred to as 'he' in spite of the fact that the actor playing the pigeon is a woman. a minor detail, and undoubtedly scripted this way, but it irked me to no end. even tabling the issue of gender-biased language, this simply flies in the face of reason.)
anyway, it occurred to me halfway through the show that this show is a perfect illustration of how children are enlisted to inhabit the Panopticon:
flow chart of the Panopticon
the Panopticon is an 18th century prison design, initially conceived of by Jeremy Bentham (no relation), and made famous (at least among academics) by Michel Foucault. as shown by the diagram, the Panopticon was shaped as a giant cylinder and a guard station in the very center allowed a single person to warden over hundreds of prisoner.
very economical.
the genius of this plan was that, since the guard wouldn't be seen, the prisoners would have to behave all the time, just in case. the next realization was that you wouldn't need an actual guard at all. since they had to act as if they were being watched, each of them could be turned into both warden and convict, leaving the Panopticon full of nothing but prisoners minding one another.
(am i my brother's keeper?)
this is exactly what "Pigeon Party" does, by interpellating the audience as both responsible adult and irresponsible pigeon. in the process, the children are taught to regulate themselves and conform to the norms of society. the call and response allows them to practice this numerous times over the course of the hour, and i assure you there is nothing so dishearteningly eerie as hearing 700 children scream:
as fate would have it, this morning served as a perfect lead-in to the film i watched later that evening, Michael Haneke's unbelievable The White Ribbon:
the story is set in a nameless village, somewhere in Germany before the first World War, and it left me equal parts riveted and horrified. a series of mysterious crimes unfold, all set against the backdrop of village life and revolving around a cadre of children. the protagonist is the town's schoolteacher, whose voice intercedes from an unspecified time in the future:
this teacher and his would-be bride are the only sympathetic characters in the film, and although we slip in and out of his point-of-view, the viewer is perpetual kept outside of this German town by Haneke's phenomenal, characteristic use of harsh vertical symmetry:
and long shots:
the first crime is a inexplicable attack on a doctor, but the viewer's sympathy is quickly perverted as the man, upon his return from the hospital, is revealed to be an adulterer, an abusive lout, and an incestuous father.
the next crime is the ritualistic torture of a young boy, the son of the Baron who lords over the community. the town lives in fearful supplication to this man, and his presence serves as a reminder of the underlying class divisions upon which the social life of the village is structured:
workers in the field
the second crime is the burning of the Baron's barn:
which is soon followed by a young girl's dream that foretells of another coming attack, this time on a child with Down's Syndrome. calamity piles on top of calamity from this point onward, and one by one the townspeople are shown to be petty, merciless creatures that evoke in some ways the films Lars van Trier.
what struck me most, though, was the children. they are explicitly shown as victims to the violence of their families; but also, implicitly, as probable perpetrators:
this comes to head near the end of the film, when the school teacher believes he has deduced who has been committing the crimes. he goes to speak to the preacher, but their conversation results only in anger, threats and denial. the preacher is unable, or unwilling, to see that the crimes tearing apart the village are sewn from the same thread as the violence, shame and discipline being taught within each of the homes.
no resolution is reached in The White Ribbon, and the outbreak of World War One prevents the teacher or the town from ever learning the truth. the film's final minutes pass under the cloud of War, demonstrating how the town and individuals' struggles are ultimately swallowed up by the great tide of History – an even larger horror that, unlike the torture of the children, does not hold the hope of resolution or comprehension.
this was easily one of the most mesmerizing, captivating, and beautifully gloomy films i've ever seen.
this is exactly what "Pigeon Party" does, by interpellating the audience as both responsible adult and irresponsible pigeon. in the process, the children are taught to regulate themselves and conform to the norms of society. the call and response allows them to practice this numerous times over the course of the hour, and i assure you there is nothing so dishearteningly eerie as hearing 700 children scream:
"go to bed!"
as fate would have it, this morning served as a perfect lead-in to the film i watched later that evening, Michael Haneke's unbelievable The White Ribbon:
the white ribbon serves as a reminder of purity
the story is set in a nameless village, somewhere in Germany before the first World War, and it left me equal parts riveted and horrified. a series of mysterious crimes unfold, all set against the backdrop of village life and revolving around a cadre of children. the protagonist is the town's schoolteacher, whose voice intercedes from an unspecified time in the future:
the school teacher with his betrothed
this teacher and his would-be bride are the only sympathetic characters in the film, and although we slip in and out of his point-of-view, the viewer is perpetual kept outside of this German town by Haneke's phenomenal, characteristic use of harsh vertical symmetry:
final scene
and long shots:
the preacher's daughter Klara is in the middle
the first crime is a inexplicable attack on a doctor, but the viewer's sympathy is quickly perverted as the man, upon his return from the hospital, is revealed to be an adulterer, an abusive lout, and an incestuous father.
the next crime is the ritualistic torture of a young boy, the son of the Baron who lords over the community. the town lives in fearful supplication to this man, and his presence serves as a reminder of the underlying class divisions upon which the social life of the village is structured:
workers in the field
the preacher, the Baron and Baroness, and their son
the second crime is the burning of the Baron's barn:
which is soon followed by a young girl's dream that foretells of another coming attack, this time on a child with Down's Syndrome. calamity piles on top of calamity from this point onward, and one by one the townspeople are shown to be petty, merciless creatures that evoke in some ways the films Lars van Trier.
what struck me most, though, was the children. they are explicitly shown as victims to the violence of their families; but also, implicitly, as probable perpetrators:
the preacher's children kissing the hands of their parents
this comes to head near the end of the film, when the school teacher believes he has deduced who has been committing the crimes. he goes to speak to the preacher, but their conversation results only in anger, threats and denial. the preacher is unable, or unwilling, to see that the crimes tearing apart the village are sewn from the same thread as the violence, shame and discipline being taught within each of the homes.
in the end, children become jailors
no resolution is reached in The White Ribbon, and the outbreak of World War One prevents the teacher or the town from ever learning the truth. the film's final minutes pass under the cloud of War, demonstrating how the town and individuals' struggles are ultimately swallowed up by the great tide of History – an even larger horror that, unlike the torture of the children, does not hold the hope of resolution or comprehension.
this was easily one of the most mesmerizing, captivating, and beautifully gloomy films i've ever seen.
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