Book Report On Surrounded By Happiness - 900 Words

Surrounded By Happiness My exhibit is called Surrounded by Happiness, to show how happiness can depend on our surroundings. Although happiness can come from a color, location, and doing the things we love; the one thing that makes happiness almost universal is being surrounded by people and things who can help bring out the happiness within us. When we are accompanied by someone who is cheerful and has positive energy, it rubs off and in turn, makes the people surrounding them happy too. It is simple to find happiness and sometimes the littlest things can bring happiness to us and often times it is taken for granted in our daily lives. The theme of this exhibit is to show how people can contribute to daily happiness even when it’s just from their attitude, energy, and presence. Also, to show how it is important to know who and what we surround ourselves with and how they can affect us. When we are surrounded by people that are positive, cheerful, and fun; it affects everyone a round us. In The Cordoba Fair, there are two women performing an act that is cheerful, full of energy, and are having fun doing what they love. This makes the audience filled with joy and everyone is seen with a smile on their face. The shades of blue and red on their clothing add to the cheerful mood of the painting. This illustrates the theme of happiness by showing how being surrounded by a group of different people can contribute aShow MoreRelatedAristotle s Ethical Theory Of Ethics Essay1194 Words   |  5 Pages(Hughes, Gerald J. 2001). According to Aristotle, happiness is; †¢ Happiness is the ultimate end and purpose of human existence †¢ Happiness is not pleasure, nor is it virtue. It is the exercise of virtue. †¢ Happiness cannot be achieved until the end of one’s life. Hence it is a goal and not a temporary state. †¢ Happiness is the perfection of human nature. Since man is a rational animal, human happiness depends on the exercise of his reason. †¢ Happiness depends on acquiring a moral character, where oneRead MorePseudo Happiness: Can Money Buy Happiness? Essay1400 Words   |  6 PagesPseudo Happiness What do you think makes you happy? Good question. Each person has a completely different view of happiness and how to achieve it. Some people require money or material things to make them happy, while for others it is companionship or helping people. Happiness for some is solitude and the list goes on and on. One misnomer in life is that what makes me happy should make others happy too. What do you think makes you happy? That is a question for each individual to determine inRead MoreEssay about A 1949 Review of Orwells 1984765 Words   |  4 PagesA 1949 Review of Orwells 1984 Behold a world of horror. You are walking down a bleak London street, surrounded by huge, hostile buildings. The street is dirty and the buildings are falling apart. Missiles are incoming alongside you, people are screaming, children are crying. From every corner, every wall, two eyes are staring at you; dark eyes, with no expression; the mustached face of a man. That man is Big Brother. He is always watching you. In this world,Read MoreThe Lovely Bones By Alice Sebold1334 Words   |  6 PagesThe book I chose for my 4th quarter book report is The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. This book contained 352 pages of breathtaking and descriptive writing. The book is classified as a fiction but as a subcategory would fall under modern criminal. The books protagonist is Suzie Salmon, age 14, who is brutally raped and killed. She is struggling with the acceptance of her death and the pain that follows her emotionally to the afterlife. She learns saying goodbye to her love ones is the hardest partRead MoreAmerican Dream A Biological Impossibility, Neuroscientist Says1402 Words   |  6 Pagesinternational authority on the neuroscience of emotion, manic-depressive disease, and the effects of thyroid hormone on brain and human behavior† (Experts Biography; Peter Whybrow, M.D.). He states that â€Å"We’ve been taught, especially in America, that happiness will be at the end of some sort of material road, where we have lots and lots of things that we want, †¦ [and] we’ve set up all sorts of tricks to delude ourselves into thinking that it’s fine to get what you want immediately† (Keim). This alone exemplifiesRead MoreMy First Semester At Mesa College1556 Words   |  7 Pagesdriving and don ’t mind the commute. Although an hour-long commute is not ideal there are certain options in order to reduce the negative aspects. Scheduling classes during low traffic times and maximizing the time spent commuting, like listening to books on tape, would improve this aspect of UCSD. In the long run the other factors into the decision to attend UCSD outweigh the inconvenience of its location. More important than location is the reputation of the university one chooses to attend. AsRead MoreWalt Disneys The Disney Company1586 Words   |  7 Pagesthe world. Disney Consumer Products and Interactive Media include, toys, apps, apparel as well as books and games, which is used to show the Walt Disney’s Company and characters to life (The Walt Disney Company: About). The Walt Disney Company operates in over 40 countries, and with the help of the cast members creates local and universal entertainment experiences. According to IBIS World Annual Report, Walt Disney Company’s US Parks and resorts Revenue is estimated to be $8,365.6 million year-endRead MoreEssay about Family Stories and Personal Identity1414 Words   |  6 Pageslife as a child, some ten years ago. My parents were divorced when I was six years old; my little sister only four. My father was remarried within a year, but my mother struggled with a job, night school, and the unmastered task of ensuri ng the happiness of her children. While my mother was making sacrifices left and right, my grandmother stepped in to give her a hand. I think this took a tremendous amount of pressure off mom, because she didnt have to hire a baby-sitter. After school we would justRead MoreMedia Violenca and Its Effects1668 Words   |  7 Pagesimpressionable children. Their minds are sponge-like, absorbing all that they are exposed to. Their feelings and emotions become more imminent once they begin to go through adolescents; children often acquire the ability for aggression, sadness, and happiness more readily during this stage. Albert Bandura, a Psychologist, with an interest in child development, used his Bobo doll experiment to prove that when a child watches extensive amounts of violent media they are more likely to display violent behaviorRead MoreDisney : The Culture Behind The Park1606 Words   |  7 PagesDisney: The Culture Behind the Park The lifecycle of Disney begins with a great story. The story of Disney itself is filled with characters, costumes, and lessons. Disney is known to usually start as a movie and eventually becomes books, merchandise, sequels, TV shows, and of course theme park rides. The fantasy world itself and what the theme parks offer is what specifically catches the visitor’s attention to want to come back again. Throughout all of Disney advertisements regarding their

The Golden Compass Chapter Six Free Essays

string(71) " she said as they trudged down a street of closed and shuttered shops\." Chapter Six The Throwing Nets She walked quickly away from the river, because the embankment was wide and well lit. There was a tangle of narrow streets between there and the Royal Arctic Institute, which was the only place Lyra was sure of being able to find, and into that dark maze she hurried now. If only she knew London as well as she knew Oxford! Then she would have known which streets to avoid; or where she could scrounge some food; or, best of all, which doors to knock on and find shelter. We will write a custom essay sample on The Golden Compass Chapter Six or any similar topic only for you Order Now In that cold night, the dark alleys all around were alive with movement and secret life, and she knew none of it. Pantalaimon became a wildcat and scanned the dark all around with his night-piercing eyes. Every so often he’d stop, bristling, and she would turn aside from the entrance she’d been about to go down. The night was full of noises: bursts of drunken laughter, two raucous voices raised in song, the clatter and whine of some badly oiled machine in a basement. Lyra walked delicately through it all, her senses magnified and mingled with Pantalaimon’s, keeping to the shadows and the narrow alleys. From time to time she had to cross a wider, well-lit street, where the tramcars hummed and sparked under their anbaric wires. There were rules for crossing London streets, but she took no notice, and when anyone shouted, she fled. It was a fine thing to be free again. She knew that Pantalaimon, padding on wildcat paws beside her, felt the same joy as she did to be in the open air, even if it was murky London air laden with fumes and soot and clangorous with noise. Sometime soon they’d have to think over the meaning of what they’d heard in Mrs. Coulter’s flat, but not yet. And sometime eventually they’d have to find a place to sleep. At a crossroads near the corner of a big department store whose windows shone brilliantly over the wet pavement, there was a coffee stall: a little hut on wheels with a counter under the wooden flap that swung up like an awning. Yellow light glowed inside, and the fragrance of coffee drifted out. The white-coated owner was leaning on the counter talking to the two or three customers. It was tempting. Lyra had been walking for an hour now, and it was cold and damp. With Pantalaimon a sparrow, she went up to the counter and reached up to gain the owner’s attention. â€Å"Cup of coffee and a ham sandwich, please,† she said. â€Å"You’re out late, my dear,† said a gentleman in a top hat and white silk muffler. â€Å"Yeah,† she said, turning away from him to scan the busy intersection. A theater nearby was just emptying, and crowds milled around the lighted foyer, calling for cabs, wrapping coats around their shoulders. In the other direction was the entrance of a Chthonic Railway station, with more crowds pouring up and down the steps. â€Å"Here you are, love,† said the coffee stall man. â€Å"Two shillings.† â€Å"Let me pay for this,† said the man in the top hat. Lyra thought, why not? I can run faster than him, and I might need all my money later. The top-hatted man dropped a coin on the counter and smiled down at her. His daemon was a lemur. It clung to his lapel, staring round-eyed at Lyra. She bit into her sandwich and kept her eyes on the busy street. She had no idea where she was, because she had never seen a map of London, and she didn’t even know how big it was or how far she’d have to walk to find the country. â€Å"What’s your name?† said the man. â€Å"Alice.† â€Å"That’s a pretty name. Let me put a drop of this into your coffee†¦warm you up†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He was unscrewing the top of a silver flask. â€Å"I don’t like that,† said Lyra. â€Å"I just like coffee.† â€Å"I bet you’ve never had brandy like this before.† â€Å"I have. I was sick all over the place. I had a whole bottle, or nearly.† â€Å"Just as you like,† said the man, tilting the flask into his own cup. â€Å"Where are you going, all alone like this?† â€Å"Going to meet my father.† â€Å"And who’s he?† â€Å"He’s a murderer.† â€Å"He’s what?† â€Å"I told you, he’s a murderer. It’s his profession. He’s doing a job tonight. I got his clean clothes in here, ’cause he’s usually all covered in blood when he’s finished a job.† â€Å"Ah! You’re joking.† â€Å"I en’t.† The lemur uttered a soft mewing sound and clambered slowly up behind the man’s head, to peer out at her. She drank her coffee stolidly and ate the last of her sandwich. â€Å"Goodnight,† she said. â€Å"I can see my father coming now. He looks a bit angry.† The top-hat man glanced around, and Lyra set off toward the theater crowd. Much as she would have liked to see the Chthonic Railway (Mrs. Coulter had said it was not really intended for people of their class), she was wary of being trapped underground; better to be out in the open, where she could run, if she had to. On and on she walked, and the streets became darker and emptier. It was drizzling, but even if there’d been no clouds the city sky was too tainted with light to show the stars. Pantalaimon thought they were going north, but who could tell? Endless streets of little identical brick houses, with gardens only big enough for a dustbin; great gaunt factories behind wire fences, with one anbaric light glowing bleakly high up on a wall and a night watchman snoozing by his brazier; occasionally a dismal oratory, only distinguished from a warehouse by the crucifix outside. Once she tried the door of one of these places, only to hear a groan from the bench a foot away in the darkness. She realized that the porch was full of sleeping figures, and fled. â€Å"Where we going to sleep, Pan?† she said as they trudged down a street of closed and shuttered shops. You read "The Golden Compass Chapter Six" in category "Essay examples" â€Å"A doorway somewhere.† â€Å"Don’t want to be seen though. They’re all so open.† â€Å"There’s a canal down there†¦.† He was looking down a side road to the left. Sure enough, a patch of dark glimmer showed open water, and when they cautiously went to look, they found a canal basin where a dozen or so barges were tied up at the wharves, some high in the water, some low and laden under the gallows-like cranes. A dim light shone in one window of a wooden hut, and a thread of smoke rose from the metal chimney; otherwise the only lights were high up on the wall of the warehouse or the gantry of a crane, leaving the ground in gloom. The wharves were piled with barrels of coal spirit, with stacks of great round logs, with rolls of cauchuc-covered cable. Lyra tiptoed up to the hut and peeped in at the window. An old man was laboriously reading a picture’Story paper and smoking a pipe, with his spaniel daemon curled up asleep on the table. As she looked, the man got up and brought a blackened kettle from the iron stove and poured some hot water into a cracked mug before settling back with his paper. â€Å"Should we ask him to let us in, Pan?† she whispered, but he was distracted; he was a bat, an owl, a wildcat again; she looked all round, catching his panic, and then saw them at the same time as he did: two men running at her, one from each side, the nearer holding a throwing net. Pantalaimon uttered a harsh scream and launched himself as a leopard at the closer man’s daemon, a savage-looking fox, bowling her backward and tangling with the man’s legs. The man cursed and dodged aside, and Lyra darted past him toward the open spaces of the wharf. What she mustn’t do was get boxed in a corner. Pantalaimon, an eagle now, swooped at her and cried, â€Å"Left! Left!† She swerved that way and saw a gap between the coal-spirit barrels and the end of a corrugated iron shed, and darted for it like a bullet. But those throwing nets! She heard a hiss in the air, and past her cheek something lashed and sharply stung, and loathsome tarred strings whipped across her face, her arms, her hands, and tangled and held her, and she fell, snarling and tearing and struggling in vain. â€Å"Pan! Pan!† But the fox daemon tore at the cat Pantalaimon, and Lyra felt the pain in her own flesh, and sobbed a great cry as he fell. One man was swiftly lashing cords around her, around her limbs, her throat, body, head, bundling her over and over on the wet ground. She was helpless, exactly like a fly being trussed by a spider. Poor hurt Pan was dragging himself toward her, with the fox daemon worrying his back, and he had no strength left to change, even; and the other man was lying in a puddle, with an arrow through his neck – The whole world grew still as the man tying the net saw it too. Pantalaimon sat up and blinked, and then there was a soft thud, and the net man fell choking and gasping right across Lyra, who cried out in horror: that was blood gushing out of him! Running feet, and someone hauled the man away and bent over him; then other hands lifted Lyra, a knife snicked and pulled and the net strings fell away one by one, and she tore them off, spitting, and hurled herself down to cuddle Pantalaimon. Kneeling, she twisted to look up at the newcomers. Three dark men, one armed with a bow, the others with knives; and as she turned, the bowman caught his breath. â€Å"That en’t Lyra?† A familiar voice, but she couldn’t place it till he stepped forward and the nearest light fell on his face and the hawk daemon on his shoulder. Then she had it. A gyptian! A real Oxford gyptian! â€Å"Tony Costa,† he said. â€Å"Remember? You used to play with my little brother Billy off the boats in Jericho, afore the Gobblers got him.† â€Å"Oh, God, Pan, we’re safe!† she sobbed, but then a thought rushed into her mind: it was the Costas’ boat she’d hijacked that day. Suppose he remembered? â€Å"Better come along with us,† he said. â€Å"You alone?† â€Å"Yeah. I was running away†¦.† â€Å"All right, don’t talk now. Just keep quiet. Jaxer, move them bodies into the shadow. Kerim, look around.† Lyra stood up shakily, holding the wildcat Pantalaimon to her breast. He was twisting to look at something, and she followed his gaze, understanding and suddenly curious too: what had happened to the dead men’s daemons? They were fading, that was the answer; fading and drifting away like atoms of smoke, for all that they tried to cling to their men. Pantalaimon hid his eyes, and Lyra hurried blindly after Tony Costa. â€Å"What are you doing here?† she said. â€Å"Quiet, gal. There’s enough trouble awake without stirring more. We’ll talk on the boat.† He led her over a little wooden bridge into the heart of the canal basin. The other two men were padding silently after them. Tony turned along the waterfront and out onto a wooden jetty, from which he stepped on board a narrowboat and swung open the door to the cabin. â€Å"Get in,† he said. â€Å"Quick now.† Lyra did so, patting her bag (which she had never let go of, even in the net) to make sure the alethiometer was still there. In the long narrow cabin, by the light of a lantern on a hook, she saw a stout powerful woman with gray hair, sitting at a table with a paper. Lyra recognized her as Billy’s mother. â€Å"Who’s this?† the woman said. â€Å"That’s never Lyra?† â€Å"That’s right. Ma, we got to move. We killed two men out in the basin. We thought they was Gobblers, but I reckon they were Turk traders. They’d caught Lyra. Never mind talk – we’ll do that on the move.† â€Å"Come here, child,† said Ma Costa. Lyra obeyed, half happy, half apprehensive, for Ma Costa had hands like bludgeons, and now she was sure: it was their boat she had captured with Roger and the other collegers. But the boat mother set her hands on either side of Lyra’s face, and her daemon, a hawk, bent gently to lick Pantalaimon’s wildcat head. Then Ma Costa folded her great arms around Lyra and pressed her to her breast. â€Å"I dunno what you’re a doing here, but you look wore out. You can have Billy’s crib, soon’s I’ve got a hot drink in you. Set you down there, child.† It looked as if her piracy was forgiven, or at least forgotten. Lyra slid onto the cushioned bench behind a well-scrubbed pine table top as the low rumble of the gas engine shook the boat. â€Å"Where we going?† Lyra asked. Ma Costa was setting a saucepan of milk on the iron stove and riddling the grate to stir the fire up. â€Å"Away from here. No talking now. We’ll talk in the morning.† And she said no more, handing Lyra a cup of milk when it was ready, swinging herself up on deck when the boat began to move, exchanging occasional whispers with the men. Lyra sipped the milk and lifted a corner of the blind to watch the dark wharves move past. A minute or two later she was sound asleep. She awoke in a narrow bed, with that comforting engine rumble deep below. She sat up, banged her head, cursed, felt around, and got up more carefully. A thin gray light showed her three other bunks, each empty and neatly made, one below hers and the other two across the tiny cabin. She swung over the side to find herself in her underclothes, and saw the dress and the wolfskin coat folded at the end of her bunk together with her shopping bag. The alethiometer was still there. She dressed quickly and went through the door at the end to find herself in the cabin with the stove, where it was warm. There was no one there. Through the windows she saw a gray swirl of fog on each side, with occasional dark shapes that might have been buildings or trees. Before she could go out on deck, the outer door opened and Ma Costa came down, swathed in an old tweed coat on which the damp had settled like a thousand tiny pearls. â€Å"Sleep well?† she said, reaching for a frying pan. â€Å"Now sit down out the way and I’ll make ye some breakfast. Don’t stand about; there en’t room.† â€Å"Where are we?† said Lyra. â€Å"On the Grand Junction Canal. You keep out of sight, child. I don’t want to see you topside. There’s trouble.† She sliced a couple of rashers of bacon into the frying pan, and cracked an egg to go with them. â€Å"What sort of trouble?† â€Å"Nothing we can’t cope with, if you stay out the way.† And she wouldn’t say any more till Lyra had eaten. The boat slowed at one point, and something banged against the side, and she heard men’s voices raised in anger; but then someone’s joke made them laugh, and the voices drew away and the boat moved on. Presently Tony Costa swung down into the cabin. Like his mother, he was pearled with damp, and he shook his woollen hat over the stove to make the drops jump and spit. â€Å"What we going to tell her, Ma?† â€Å"Ask first, tell after.† He poured some coffee into a tin cup and sat down. He was a powerful, dark-faced man, and now that she could see him in daylight, Lyra saw a sad grimness in his expression. â€Å"Right,† he said. â€Å"Now you tell us what you was doing in London, Lyra. We had you down as being took by the Gobblers.† â€Å"I was living with this lady, right†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Lyra clumsily collected her story and shook it into order as if she were settling a pack of cards ready for dealing. She told them everything, except about the alethiometer. â€Å"And then last night at this cocktail party I found out what they were really doing. Mrs. Coulter was one of the Gobblers herself, and she was going to use me to help her catch more kids. And what they do is – â€Å" Ma Costa left the cabin and went out to the cockpit. Tony waited till the door was shut, and cut in: â€Å"We know what they do. Least, we know part of it. We know they don’t come back. Them kids is taken up north, far out the way, and they do experiments on ’em. At first we reckoned they tried out different diseases and medicines, but there’d be no reason to start that all of a sudden two or three years back. Then we thought about the Tartars, maybe there’s some secret deal they’re making up Siberia way; because the Tartars want to move north just as much as the rest, for the coal spirit and the fire mines, and there’s been rumors of war for even longer than the Gobblers been going. And we reckoned the Gobblers were buying off the Tartar chiefs by giving ’em kids, cause the Tartars eat ’em, don’t they? They bake children and eat â€Å"em.† â€Å"They never!† said Lyra. â€Å"They do. There’s plenty of other things to be told, and all. You ever heard of the Nalkainens?† Lyra said, â€Å"No. Not even with Mrs. Coulter. What are they?† â€Å"That’s a kind of ghost they have up there in those forests. Same size as a child, and they got no heads. They feel their way about at night and if you’re a sleeping out in the forest they get ahold of you and won’t nothing make ’em let go. Nalkainens, that’s a northern word. And the Windsuckers, they’re dangerous too. They drift about in the air. You come across clumps of ’em floated together sometimes, or caught snagged on a bramble. As soon as they touch you, all the strength goes out of you. You can’t see ’em except as a kind of shimmer in the air. And the Breathless Ones†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Who are they?† â€Å"Warriors half-killed. Being alive is one thing, and being dead’s another, but being half-killed is worse than either. They just can’t die, and living is altogether beyond ’em. They wander about forever. They’re called the Breathless Ones because of what’s been done to ’em.† â€Å"And what’s that?† said Lyra, wide-eyed. â€Å"The North Tartars snap open their ribs and pull out their lungs. There’s an art to it. They do it without killing ’em, but their lungs can’t work anymore without their daemons pumping ’em by hand, so the result is they’re halfway between breath and no breath, life and death, half-killed, you see. And their daemons got to pump and pump all day and night, or else perish with ’em. You come across a whole platoon of Breathless Ones in the forest sometimes, I’ve heard. And then there’s the panserbj0rne – you heard of them? That means armored bears. They’re great white bears, and – â€Å" â€Å"Yes! I have heard of them! One of the men last night, he said that my uncle, Lord Asriel, he’s being imprisoned in a fortress guarded by the armored bears.† â€Å"Is he, now? And what was he doing up there?† â€Å"Exploring. But the way the man was talking I don’t think my uncle’s on the same side as the Gobblers. I think they were glad he was in prison.† â€Å"Well, he won’t get out if the armored bears are guarding him. They’re like mercenaries, you know what I mean by that? They sell their strength to whoever pays. They got hands like men, and they learned the trick of working iron way back, meteoric iron mostly, and they make great sheets and plates of it to cover theirselves with. They been raiding the Skraelings for centuries. They’re vicious killers, absolutely pitiless. But they keep their word. If you make a bargain with a panserbj0m, you can rely on it.† Lyra considered these horrors with awe. â€Å"Ma don’t like to hear about the North,† Tony said after a few moments, â€Å"because of what might’ve happened to Billy. We know they took him up north, see.† â€Å"How d’you know that?† â€Å"We caught one of the Gobblers, and made him talk. That’s how we know a little about what they’re doing. Them two last night weren’t Gobblers; they were too clumsy. If they’d been Gobblers we’d’ve took ’em alive. See, the gyptian people, we been hit worse than most by these Gobblers, and we’re a coming together to decide what to do about it. That’s what we was doing in the basin last night, taking on stores, ’cause we’re going to a big muster up in the fens, what we call a roping. And what I reckon is we’re a going to send out a rescue party, when we heard what all the other gyptians know, when we put our knowledge together. That’s what I’d do, if I was John Faa.† â€Å"Who’s John Faa?† â€Å"The king of the gyptians.† â€Å"And you’re really going to rescue the kids? What about Roger?† â€Å"Who’s Roger?† â€Å"The Jordan College kitchen boy. He was took same as Billy the day before I come away with Mrs. Coulter. I bet if I was took, he’d come and rescue me. If you’re going to rescue Billy, I want to come too and rescue Roger.† And Uncle Asriel, she thought; but she didn’t mention that. How to cite The Golden Compass Chapter Six, Essay examples

Classical and Post

Classical and Post-Classical Hollywood Cinema Essay Film StudiesAssignment 1Classical and Post-Classical Hollywood CinemaTable of contentsINTRODUCTION3CLASSICAL HOLLYWOOD-4Classical Gender Representation4Classical Style, form and content5GENRE TRANSFORMATION AND POST-CLASSICAL HOLLYWOOD-5REFERENCES8BIBLIOGRAPHY9FILMOGRAPHY10INTRODUCTIONDuring the course of this essay it is my intention to discuss the differences between Classical Hollywood and post-Classical Hollywood. Although these terms refer to theoretical movements of which they are not definitive it is my goal to show that they are applicable in a broad way to a cinema tradition that dominated Hollywood production between 1916 and 1960 and which also pervaded Western Mainstream Cinema (Classical Hollywood or Classic Narrative Cinema) and to the movement and changes that came about following this time period (Post-Classical or New Hollywood). I intend to do this by first analysing and defining aspects of Classical Hollywood and having done that, examining post classical at which time the relationship between them will become evident. It is my intention to reference films from both movements and also published texts relative to the subject matter. In order to illustrate the structures involved I will be writing about the subjects of genre and genre transformation, the representation of gender, postmodernism and the relationship between style, form and content. Classical HollywoodClassical Hollywood is a tradition of methods and structures that were prominent American cinema between 1916 and 1960.Its heritage stems from earlier American cinema Melodrama and to theatrical melodrama before that. Its tradition lives on in mainstream Hollywood to this day. But what is it?Classic narrative cinema is what Bordwell, Staiger and Thompson (The classic Hollywood Cinema, Columbia University press 1985) 1, calls an excessively obvious cinema1 in which cinematic style serves to explain and not to obscure the narrative. In this way it is made up of motivated events that lead the spectator to its inevitable conclusion. It causes the spectator to have an emotional investment in this conclusion coming to pass which in turn makes the predictable the most desirable outcome. The films are structured to create an atmosphere of verisimilitude, which is to give a perception of reality. On closer inspection it they are often far from realistic in a social sense bu t possibly portray a realism desired by the patriarchal and family value orientated society of the time. I feel that it is often the black and white representation of good and evil that creates such an atmosphere of predictability. There are a number of aspects of Classical Hollywood which could be described as general characteristics. We have a white male heterosexual protagonist. Also a structure of order/disorder/order restored is one of the most fundamental. This structure is will proceed in a linear trajectory towards a high level of closure or resolution. Every question which is raised during the film must be answered. Within our linear trajectory we have a cause and effect pattern which means we will watch an action in one scene and proceed to see its effect or re-action on the following scene. In TOUCH OF EVIL (Orson Welles, USA, 1958) we open with a honeymooning couple. Within moments there is an explosion and disorder is created almost instantly. Our central protagonist, i n this case Charlton Heston, combats this disorder for the duration until he eventually finishes back in the arms of his wife. This example represents what David Bordwell (Narration of the fiction film, Madison: University of Wisconsin press, 1985) means when he says usually the classical syuzhet presents a double causal structure2. Two plot lines, one which involves a heterosexual romance and another which causes an external struggle (usually for the man and if for the woman inevitably solved by the man). Classical Gender Representation:In Classical Hollywood the representation of women is certainly quite clear cut, our main two definable types being that of the virgin and that of the whore. Our virgin represents the patriarchal ideals of family within which at the time a woman should represent innocence, purity and certainly deference to the male. Our whore figure shows contempt for family values through promiscuity or perceived selfishness. This woman will often be a lot more inf luential then a virgin figure. Our whore will inevitably be neutralised during the course of the film often through imprisonment or death. The classic often revisited scene of a man grasping a woman by the upper arms is a good visual metaphor for the dominance of man in classical Hollywood. Another good visual metaphor is that of the male gaze. Very often we will see a point of view shot from the male perspective and we see that the object of his gaze is a beautifully lit woman. She will not return his gaze as this would be a show of equality. This representation of gender is consistent through all classical genres for example we have our Femme Fatale in Noir and in westerns we have literal whores. Westerns also have what is known as the tart with a heart which is a female living by questionable morals but often for reason of necessity. She will also always be neutralised. Classical Style, Form and Content:In Bordwell And Thompsons Film Art, An Introduction ,7th ed (Mcgraw Hill, 200 4)3 they show a diagram that can give some explanation of the use of form and style in film:Film FormInteracts withFormal system#61663;#61664;Stylistic systemNarrative Significant use of techniques:Categorical Mise-en-sceneRhetorical CinematographyAbstract EditingAssociational SoundSusan Hayward says of classical Hollywood Cinema Studies The Key Concepts(Susan Hayward, Routledge, 2) that in this cinema, style is subordinate to narrative: shots, lighting, colour must not draw attention to themselves any more then the editing, the mise-en-scene or sound. All must function to manufacture realism. Three point lighting is predominant and also lends itself to verisimilitude, as does the use of continuity editing in Classical Hollywood. There are some editing techniques utilised which on the face of it one might assume would make a spectator aware of the camera position such as cross cutting (where we cut over and back between two sets of action happening simultaneously) and reverse angles (utilised during dialogue normally). However as we have been acclimatised to being an omnipotent spectator these techniques do not trigger any diminution of the established realism. Colour must suit the emotional or psychological mood of each scene if not the entire film and music will always only be used to reinforce the current on screen action such as romance or danger. In film studies form and content are inextricably linked. In classical Hollywood an example of this would be the flashback. If the content necessitates a characters memory they will be given form through a flashback which in turn is formally signalled by a fade or a dissolve. Third time is a Charm EssayAnother example of form representing content is the opening sequence of Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, Columbia, US, 1976) which our view is first obscured by steam from a grate and then by out of focus shots. We are then guided by the camera work to experience the story through the eyes of Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro), hence we see that his view of the world is skewed. Again strong classical reflexivity with representation of women, we have a literal virgin figure played by Jodie Foster and our virginal innocent figure played by Cybil Shepherd who in one scene leaves a pornographic theatre in disgust. Post Modernism plays a part in many post-classical films. Blue velvet (David Lynch, De Laurentis, US, 1986) for example is set in an undefined time and displays eclectic styles and genres. One minute we are in a pastiche of a ninety fifties Diner repreasentation only to emerge and see some characters dressed from the eighties. We see Noir like investigative work followed by horror scenes of rape and torture. The artistic influences of Edward Hopper are visible in the Diners and streetscapes. Classical Hollywood is clearly Parodied with the oh so happy final scenes but as can be said for Lynch in general there is certainly not a high level of closure. Despite this, it can be said that the predominant and more commercially driven side of Hollywood still to this day embrace the many conventions and Genres of classic Hollywood which are still consumed by the masses. In Pam Cookes(ed) The Cinema Book,1st ed (BFI, 1990)5 we read contrary to all trendy journalism about the New Hollywood and the imagined rise of artistic freedom in American films, the New Hollywood remains as crass and commercial as the oldReferences1.Bordwell, Staiger and Thompson The classic Hollywood Cinema, Columbia University press 1985) an excessively obvious cinema2.Susan Hayward Cinema Studies The Key Concepts(, Routledge, 1999) in this cinema, style is subordinate to narrative: shots, lighting, colour must not draw attention to themselves any more then the editing, the mise-en-scene or sound. All must function to manufacture realism.3. Bordwell, Thompson Film Art, An Introduction ,7th ed (Mcgraw Hill, 2004) Film FormInteracts withFormal system;#61663;#61664;Styl istic systemNarrative Significant use of techniques:Categorical Mise-en-sceneRhetorical CinematographyAbstract EditingAssociational Sound4. Jill Nelmes (ed) An introduction to film studies 3rd edition (Routeledge, 2003)5. Pam Cooke(ed) The Cinema Book,1st ed (BFI, 1990) we read contrary to all trendy journalism about the New Hollywood and the imagined rise of artistic freedom in American films, the New Hollywood remains as crass and commercial as the oldBibliography1.Bordwell, Staiger and Thompson (The classic Hollywood Cinema, Columbia University press 1985)2.Bordwell, Thompson Film Art, An Introduction ,7th ed (Mcgraw Hill, 2004)3.Pam Cooke(ed) The Cinema Book,1st ed (BFI, 1990)4.Susan Hayward Cinema Studies The Key Concepts(, Routledge, 1999)5. Jill Nelmes (ed) An introduction to film studies 3rd edition (Routeledge, 2003)FilmographyTOUCH OF EVIL (Orson Welles, USA, 1958)Dracula (Tod Browning, Universal, US, 1931)Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde (Rouben Mamoulian, Paramount, US, 1931)Th e War of the Worlds (Byron Haskin, Paramount, US, 1953)Invasion of the body snatchers (Don Siegel, Allied Artists, US, 1955)Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, Shamley, US, 1960)Night of the Living Dead (George A. Romero, Image Ten, US 1968)The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, Warner, US 1980)Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, Columbia, US, 1976)Blue velvet (David Lynch, De Laurentis, US, 1986)