lunes, 14 de abril de 2008

Pio XII sobre el cine.


Me veo obligado a desbancar a Juan Palomo...pero como no tengo tiempo, subo un documento sobre el que podríamos comentar y discutir. Que aproveche.



APOSTOLIC EXHORTATIONS
OF HIS HOLINESS

PIUS XII
TO REPRESENTATIVES OF THE CINEMA WORLD



I - TO THE REPRESENTATIVES
OF THE ITALIAN CINEMATOGRAPH INDUSTRY

(Audience of 21st June, 1955)


Gentlemen: it is a very great pleasure to welcome into Our presence you, the chosen representatives of the world of the Cinema, the extent and influence of which, in a brief span of years, have attained remarkable proportions, giving, as it were, an impress of their own to our age.

Though at other times and on different occasions We have directed careful attention to the activity of the Cinema, We are glad today to meet personally those whose whole time is devoted to it, in order as Pastor of the Flock to open Our heart to them in which praise for their great achievements is joined to a piercing anxiety for the fate of so many souls on which the Cinema exercises a profound influence.

Rightly can one speak of a special "world of the Cinema" when one thinks of the tremendous dynamic activity to which the Cinema has given life, whether in the strictly artistic field, or in the economic and technical sphere. Towards it are directed the energies of large numbers of producers, writers, directors, actors, musicians, workers, technicians and so many others, whose duties are described by new names, and of such a nature as to create a terminology of their own in modern languages. One thinks also of the vast number of industrial plants which provide for the production of the material and apparatus, of the film-studios, the cinema halls which, if placed in imagination, in a single setting, would surely make one of the most extensive cities in the world - such, moreover, already exist on a reduced scale, on the fringe of many cities. Further, the sphere of economic interests created by the Cinema, and drawn in its turn towards it, whether for the production of films or for their utilisation, finds few counterparts in private industry, especially if one considers the bulk of capital invested, the readiness with which it is offered, the speed with which - not without considerable profits - it returns to the industrialists.

So, then, this world of the Cinema cannot do other than create around itself a field of unusually wide and deep influence in the thinking, the habits, the life of the countries where it develops its power - particularly among the poorest classes, for whom the Cinema is often the sole recreation after work, and among the youth, who see in the Cinema a quick and attractive means of quenching the natural thirst for knowledge and experience which the age promises them.

Thus it is that to the cinema-world of production, which you represent, there corresponds a special, and very much greater world of spectators, who, more or less consciously and effectively, receive from the former a definite force guiding their development, their ideas, feelings, and - not rarely - their very way of life. From this simple consideration, the need for a proper study of the art of the Cinema in its origins and its effects becomes clear, to the end that it, as every other activity, may be directed to the improvement of man and the glory of God


1. - THE ART OF THE CINEMA - ITS IMPORTANCE

The extraordinary influence of the Cinema on present-day society is shown by the growing thirst which this society has for it, and which, reduced to numbers, constitutes a quite new and remarkable phenomenon. In the statistics kindly presented to Us, it is reported that, during the year 1954, the number of cinema-goers for all the countries of the world taken together, was twelve thousand million, among whom 2,500 million in the United States of America, 1,300 million in England, while the figure 800 million puts Italy in the third place.

What is the source of the fascination of this new art, which, sixty years after its first appearance, has arrived at the almost magical power of summoning into the darkness of its halls, and not gratuitously, crowds that are numbered by the billions? What is the secret of the spell which makes these same crowds its constant devotees? In the answers to such questions lie the fundamental causes which bring about the great importance and the wide popularity of the Cinema.

The first power of attraction of a film springs from its technical qualities, which perform the prodigy of transferring the spectator into an imaginary world or, in a documentary film, of bringing reality, distant in space and time, right before his eyes. To the technical process, then, belongs the first place in the origin and development of the Cinema. It preceded the film, and first made it possible; it also makes it every day more attractive, adaptable, alive. The chief technical elements of a cinema show were already in existence before the film was born; then gradually the film has taken control of them until it has at length reached the point where it demands of the technical process the invention of new methods to be placed at its service. The reciprocity of influence between the technical process and the film has thus brought about a swift development towards perfection, starting from the shaky retakes of a train arriving, to pass on to the animated film of ideas and feelings, at first with silent actors, then with actors speaking and moving in places filled with sound and music. Spurred on by desire to transport the spectator into the unreal world, the film has asked technical skill for Nature's colours, then the three dimensions of space, and at the present time is striving with daring ingenuity to place the spectator amidst the scene itself.

In looking today at a film of forty years ago, it is possible to note remarkable technical progress achieved, and it must be admitted that, by its qualities, a present-day film - even though only a sound film in "black-and-white" - appears like a magnificent stage performance.

But to a greater degree than from technical finish, the attractive force and the importance of the film derives from the artistic element, which has been refined not only by the contribution made by the authors, writers and actors, chosen in accordance with severe tests, but by the keen rivaliry established among them in worldwide competition.

From the simple visual narration of an ordinary incident, there has come to be carried on the screen, the progress of human life in its manifold dramas, tracing skilfully the ideals, the faults, the hopes, the ordinary happenings or the high achievements of one or more persons. A growing mastery of invention and of the setting of the subject has made ever more alive and enthralling the entertainment which avails itself, moreover, of the traditional power of dramatic art of all times and in all civilizations, nay, with a notable advantage over the latter, by the greater freedom of movement, the spaciousness of the scene, and by the other effects special to the Cinema.

But to understand thoroughly the power of films, and to make a more exact evaluation of the Cinema, it is necessary to take note of the important part played in it by the laws of psychology, either in so far as they explain how the film influences the mind, or in so far as they are deliberately applied to produce a stronger impression on the spectators. With careful observation devotees of this science study the process of action and reaction produced by viewing the picture, applying the method of research and analysis, the fruits of experimental psychology, studying the hidden recesses of the subconscious and the unconscious. They investigate the film's influence not only as it is passively received by the viewer, but also by analyzing its related psychical "activation", in accordance with immanent laws, i.e., its power to grip the mind through the enchantment of the representation. If, through one or the other influence, the spectator remains truly a prisoner of the world unfolding before his eyes, he is forced to transfer somehow to the person of the actor his own ego, with its psychic tendencies, its personal experiences, its hidden and ill-defined desires. Through the whole time of this sort of enchantment, due in large part to the suggestion of the actor, the viewer moves in the actor's world as though it were his own, and even, to some degree, lives in his place, and almost within him, in perfect harmony of feeling, sometimes even being drawn by the action to suggest words and phrases. This procedure, which modern directors are well aware of and try to make use of, has been compared with the dream state, with this difference, that the visions and images of dreams come only from the inner world of the dreamer, whereas they come from the screen to the spectator, but in such a way that they arouse from the depths of his consciousness images that are more vivid and dearer to him. Often enough then it happens that the spectator, through pictures of persons and things, sees as real what never actually happened, but which he has frequently pondered over deep within himself, and desired or feared. With cause, therefore, does the extraordinary power of the moving picture find its profoundest explanation in the internal structure of psychic process, and the spectacle will be all the more gripping in proportion to the degree in which it stimulates these processes.

As a result, the director is constantly forced to sharpen his own psychological sensibility and his own insight by the efforts he must make to find the most effective form to give to a film the power described above, which can have a good or a bad moral effect. In fact, the internal dynamisms of the spectator's ego, in the depths of his nature, of his subconscious and unconscious mind, can lead him thus to the realm of light, of the noble and beautiful, just as they can bring him under the sway of darkness and depravation, at the mercy of powerful and uncontrolled instincts, depending on whether the picture plays up and arouses the qualities of one or the other field, and focuses on it the attention, the desires and psychic impulses. Human nature's condition is such, in fact, that not always do the spectators possess or preserve the spiritual energy, the interior detachment, and frequently, too, the strength of will, to resist a captivating suggestion, and thus the capacity to control and direct themselves.

Along with these fundamental causes and reasons for the attractiveness and importance of motion pictures, another active psychic element has been amply brought to light. It is the free and personal interpretation of the viewer, and his anticipation of the action's subsequent development; it is this which procures him, in some degree, the delight proper to one who creates an event. From this element, too, the director draws profit, through apparently insignificant but skilful movements, as, for example, the gesture of a hand, a shrug of the shoulders, a half-open door.

The moving picture has thus adopted, in its own way, the canons of the traditional narrative - these, too, based on psycological laws - the first of which is to hold the reader's attention, awakening his anxiety for what will befall the personages who have already become, in some way, his acquaintances. For this reason it would be a mistake to give at the very beginning a clear and transparent outline of the tale or picture. Indeed, the book, and perhaps even more so the moving picture, because of its more varied and subtle means, draws its typical fascination from the urge, communicated to the spectator, of giving his own interpretation to the story, and which leads him, by the thread of a scarcely perceptible logic, or even through harmless deceit, to glimpse that which is indefinite, to foresee an action, to anticipate an emotion, to resolve a problem. Thus, through application in the film of this psychological activity of the viewer, the enchantment of the motion picture is increased.

Because of this inner power of the moving picture, and because of its wide influence on the masses of men and even on moral practices, it has drawn the attention not only of the competent civil and ecclesiastical authority, but also of all groups possessed of calm judgement and a genuine sense of responsibility.

In truth, how could an instrument, in itself most noble, but so apt to uplift or degrade men, and so quick to produce good or spread evil, be left completely alone, or made dependent on purely economic interests?

The watchfulness and response of public authorities, fully justified by law to defend the common civil and moral heritage, is made manifest in various ways: through the civil and ecclesiastical censure of pictures, and if necessary, through banning them; through the listing of films by appropriate examining boards, which qualify them according to merit for the information of the public, and as a norm to be followed. It is indeed true that the spirit of our time, unreasonably intolerant of the intervention of public authority, would prefer censorship coming directly from the people.

It would certainly be desirable if good men could agree on banning corrupt movies wherever they are shown, and to combat them with the legal and moral weapons at their disposal; yet such action is not by itself enough.

Private initiative and zeal can wane, and do in fact wane rather quickly, as experience shows. But not so the hostile and aggressive propaganda, which frequently draws rich profits from films, and which often finds a ready ally in the inner man, i.e., his blind instincts and allurements, or his brutal and base urges.

If, therefore, the civic and moral heritage of peoples and families is to be effectively safeguarded, it is most certainly right for public authority to exercise a due intervention in order to hinder or check the most dangerous influences.

To you, so full of good will, let Us now address a confidential and fatherly word. Is it not time that a sincere evaluation and a rejection of whatever is unworthy or evil be from the start, and in a special way placed in your hands? The charge of incompetence, of bias certainly could not be made, if with mature judgement that has been formed on sound moral principles, and with earnest intent, you reject whatever debases human dignity, the individual and common good, and especially our youth.

No discerning person could ignore or deride your conscientious and well-weighed judgement in matters concerning your own profession. Put to good use, therefore, that pre-eminence and authority which your knowledge, your experience, and the dignity of your work confer on you. In the place of irrelevant or harmful shows present pictures that are good, noble, beautiful, which undoubtedly can be made attractive and uplifting at the same time, and even reach a high artistic level. You will have the agreement and approval of everyone of upright mind and heart, and above all the approval of your own consciences.


II. - THE IDEAL FILM

Up to the present We have directed Our remarks to the moving picture as it actually is. In this second part We should like to speak of the moving picture as it ought to be - i.e., of the ideal.

First of all a premise: can one talk of an ideal moving picture? That is called ideal which lacks nothing of what is proper to it, and which possesses to a perfect degree what is due. In this sense can there be an ideal film? Some deny that an absolute ideal can exist; in other words, they affirm that the ideal is a relative concept, meaning something only for a definite person or thing. This difference of opinion is caused in great measure by the different criteria used in distinguishing essential elements from the accidental. Actually, notwithstanding the affirmation of relativity, the ideal will always be found in something absolute, which is verified in every case, though in the midst of multiple and diverse secondary elements, which are demanded by their relation to a definite case.

With this as a premise, We think the ideal film must be considered under three aspects:

1) in relation to the subject, i.e., the spectator to whom it is directed;

2) in relation to the object, i.e., the content of the film;

3) in relation to the community, upon which, as We have already noted, it exercises a particular influence.

Since We wish to dwell at some length on this important matter, today We will limit Ourselves to a treatment of the first heading, and leave the second and third to another Audience, if the opportunity arises.

1. - THE IDEAL FILM CONSIDERED
IN RELATION TO THE SPECTATOR


(a) The first quality which in this regard should mark the ideal film is respect for man. For there is indeed no motive whereby it can be excepted from the general norm which demands that he who deals with men fully respect man.

However much differences of age, condition and sex may suggest a difference in conduct and bearing, man is always man, with the dignity and nobility bestowed on him by the Creator, in Whose image and likeness he was made (Gen. 1, 26). In man there is a spiritual and immortal soul! There is the universe in miniature, with its multiplicity and variety of form, and the marvellous order of all its parts; there is thought and will, with a vast field in which to operate; there is emotional life, with its heights and depths; there is the world of the senses, with its numerous powers, perceptions and feelings; there is the body, formed even to its minutest parts according to a teleology not yet fully grasped. Man has been made lord in this universe; he must freely direct his actions in accordance with the laws of truth, goodness and beauty, as they are manifested in Nature, his social relations with his fellow men and Divine revelation.

Since the moving picture, as has been noted, can incline the soul of the viewer to good or to evil, We will call ideal only that film which not only does not offend what We have just described, but treats it respectfully. Even that is not enough! Rather We should say: that which strengthens and uplifts man in the consciousness of his dignity, that which increases his knowledge and love of the lofty natural position conferred on him by his Creator; that which tells him it is possible for him to increase the gifts of energy and virtue he disposes of within himself; that which strengthens his conviction that he can overcome obstacles and avoid erroneous solutions, that he can rise after every fall and return to the right path, that he can, in short, go from good to better through the use of his freedom and his faculties.

(b) Such a moving picture would already contain the basic element of an ideal film; but more still can be attributed to it, if to respect for man is added loving understanding. Recall the touching phrase of Our Lord: "I have pity on this people" (Mark, 8, 2).

Human life here below has its high points and low, its rises and falls, it moves amidst virtue and vice, amidst conflicts, difficulties and compromises; it knows victory and defeat. Each man experiences all that, in his own way, and according to his own interior and exterior circumstances and different ages, which, river-like, bear him from mountain uplands through wooded hills down to broad plains baked by the sun.

Thus vary the conditions of man's movement and struggle: in the babe, as the first glimmerings of consciousness stir; in the child, as he enters into full use and control of his reason; in the youth, during the years of development, when great storms alternate with periods of marvellous sunshine; in the adult, frequently so completely absorbed in the struggle for existence, with its inevitable shocks; in the aged person, who turns back to view the past with regret, nostalgia, repentance, and examines himself and ponders events as only he can who has sailed afar.

The ideal moving picture must show the spectator that it knows, understands and values properly all these things; but it must speak to the child in language suited to a child, to youth in way fitted to it, to the adult as he expects to be spoken to, i.e., using his own manner of seeing and understanding things.

But a general understanding of man is not enough, when the film is intended for a given profession or class; a more special understanding of the particular conditions of various classes of society is also needed. The moving picture must give to him who sees and hears a sense of reality, but of a reality seen through the eyes of one who knows more than he, and handled with the will of one who stands beside the spectator to help and comfort him, if necessary.

With this spirit the reality reproduced by the film is presented artistically, for it is proper to the artist that he does not reproduce reality in a mechanical way, nor does he subordinate himself to the merely technical capacities of his tools; rather in using them he elevates and dominates matter, without changing it or removing it from reality. An excellent example can be seen in the enchanting parables of Holy Scripture: their subject matter is taken from the daily life and tasks of the hearers, with a fidelity We might call photographic, but it is mastered and raised in such wise that real and ideal are fused in perfect art form.

(c) To respect and understanding ought to be added the fulfilment of the promises held out and the satisfaction of the desires aroused perhaps from the beginning. Moreover, in general, the millions of people who flock to the cinema are driven there by a vague hope of finding the contentment of their secret and undefined desires, of their inner longings; in the dryness of their own life, they take refuge in the cinema, as with a magician who can transform all at the touch of his wand.

The ideal film, therefore, ought to know how to respond to this expectation, and bring to it, not any kind of satisfaction but one which is complete: not indeed, of all desires, even false and unreasonable (the unjust and the amoral do not come into the question here), but of those which the spectator nourishes quite legitimately.

Under one form or another, the expectations are, at one time, relief, at another, instruction, or joy, or encouragement, or stimulus; some are deep, others superficial. The film answers now to one, now to another demand, or else it will give an answer which can satisfy several of them at the same time.
Leaving however to your judgement as specialists what belongs to the technical-aesthetic aspect, We prefer to turn Our attention to the psychico-personal element, to draw from it too, the assurance that - in spite of relativity - there always remains that irresolvable absolute which dictates the principles for granting or denying the answer to the demands of the spectator.

To form an idea of the question, there is no need to turn to a consideration of the principles of filmology or of psychology, which have held Our attention thus far; it is sufficient to let oneself be guided in this also, by sound common sense. In the normal human being, indeed, there is also a psychology, so to speak, not learnt from books, but derived from his very nature, which puts him on the path to directing himself aright in the ordinary things of everyday life, provided he follows his sound powers of reasoning, his sense of reality, and the guidance of his experience; but, above all, provided that the emotional element in him is controlled and directed,- for, in the end, what determines a human person to judge and act is his own emotional disposition.

On the basis of this simple psychology, it is clear that the man who goes to see a serious instructional film has a right to the teaching it promises; he who goes to an historical film, wishes to find presented the actual facts, even though technical and artistic needs modify and elaborate the form in which they are presented; he who was promised the picture of a story or a novel, ought not to go away from it disappointed at not having seen the unfolding of its plot.

But there is, on the other hand, the man who, weary of the monotony of his life or weakened by his struggles, looks primarily to the film for relief, forgetfulness, relaxation; perhaps also for flight into a dream world. Are these legitimate demands? Can the ideal film adapt itself to these expectations and seek to satisfy them?

Modern man - it is asserted - in the evening of his crowded or monotonous day, feels the need to alter the circumstances of people and places; so he desires entertainments which, with the multiplicity of images, linked it is true by a slight guiding thread, can calm the spirit even if they remain on the surface and do not penetrate very deeply, provided that they bring relief to his depressing state of weariness and banish his boredom.

It is possible that this may be so - even frequently. In that case, the film can seek to meet such a condition in an ideal form, avoiding, of course, any lapse into vulgarity or unseemly sensationalism.
It is not to be denied that even a somewhat superficial entertainment can rise to high artistic levels, and be classed even as ideal, since man has shallows as well as depths. Dull, however, is the man who is entirely superficial, and is unable to add depth to his thoughts and feelings.

Doubtless, the ideal film is allowed to lead the weary and jaded spirit to the thresholds of the world of illusion, so that it may enjoy a brief respite from the pressure of real existence. However, it should take care not to clothe the illusion with such a form that it is taken for reality by minds which are weak and without sufficient experience. The film, indeed, which leads from reality to illusion, ought then in some way to lead back from illusion to reality with the same gentleness that Nature employs in sleep. That also attracts man, wearied by reality, and plunges him for a short time into the illusory world of dreams: but, after sleep, it restores him refreshed, and as it were, renewed, to the bustle of reality, the reality he is used to, in which he lives, and of which, by his work and his struggle, he must always remain master. Let the film follow Nature in this: it will then have fulfilled a notable part of its function.

(d) But the ideal film, considered in reference to the spectator, has, finally, a lofty and positive mission to accomplish.

Respect for and understanding of the spectator in responding to his legitimate expectations and just desires are not enough for appraising a film. It must also measure up to duty which is inherent in the nature of the human person, and in particular, of the human spirit. From the moment when his reason is awakened until it is extinguished, man has an image of each single duty to fulfil, at the base of which, as the foundation of all, lies that of disposing of himself rightly, that is to say, in accordance with bright thought and sentiment, understanding and conscience. The essential directing principle to such an end man derives from the consideration of his own nature, from others' teaching, from God's word to men. To detach him from this principle would mean to make him incapable of carrying out his essential mission to its conclusion, just as it would paralyse him if one were to cut the tendons and ligaments that join together and support the limbs and parts of his body.

An ideal film, then, has truly the high office of putting the great possibilities and power of influence, which we already recognise in the craft of the Cinema, at the service of man, and of being an aid to him in maintaining and rendering effective his self-expression in the path of right and goodness.
It is no secret that for this, outstanding artistic gifts are necessary in the director, since everyone knows that there is no difficulty at all in producing seductive films, by making them accomplices of the lower instincts and passions which overthrow man, luring him from the precepts of his sane thinking and better will. The temptation of the easy path is great, all the more so as the film - the poet would call it "galley-slave" - can easily fill halls and coffers, evoke frenzied applause, and assemble in the columns of some newspapers reviews which are too subservient and favourable. But all this has nothing in common with the accomplishment of an ideal duty. It is, in reality, decadence and degradation; above all, it is the refusal to rise to worthy ideals. The ideal film, on the other hand, intends to use every power to serve them, even though this means refusal to serve unscrupulous buyers. It does not make an empty show of moralizing, but more than makes up for this lack by positive work which, as circumstances demand, instructs, delights, diffuses genuine and noble joy and pleasure, and cuts off every approach to boredom. It is at once light and profound, imaginative and real. In a word, it knows how to lead without interruption or shocks to the bright realms of art and enjoyment, in such a manner that the spectator, at the conclusion, leaves the hall, more light-hearted, relaxed, and better within himself, than he entered. If at that moment, he were to meet the producer or the director of the writer, he would not fail, perhaps, to take him in a friendly embrace in a burst of admiration and thanks, as We personally, in a fatherly manner, would thank them in the name of so many persons changed for the better.

We have outlined, gentlemen, an ideal without concealing the difficulty of its attainment; but at the same time, We express confidence in your outstanding ability and your good will. To bring into existence the ideal film is a privilege of artists gifted beyond the ordinary; certainly, it is an exalted goal toward which, fundamentally, your ability and your vocation summon you. God grant that all who are capable of it may assist you!

That these wishes of Ours may find fulfilment in this important branch of activity, so near to the realms of the spirit, We call down on you and on your families, on the artists and groups of workers of the world of the Cinema, God's blessing, in token of which may Our paternal Apostolic Benediction descend upon you all.

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