continued (Children's Hour)

Are the audience implicated in the accusations? Yes, because we are asking the same questions; we want to know the truth. No, because we have seen that the child has made up the lies (she is spiteful, she manipulates her grandmother). Hmmm.

We have too many questions over the two women, so we align ourselves to the boyfriend, who we know is faithful and trusting. He acts with integrity and we empathise with him because we are in a similar position - we believe that the child is lying, but we are still curious (this is key). We still have doubts. We want it to be true? Through voyeurism? Through a fascination. To be disgusted with what we are not. What are we? - pure, healthy, heterosexual. We want to see a degradation we can hate, yet be morbidly fascinated with (voyeurism!). Again, we come full circle and are implicated with the accusors.

The Children's Hour (1961)

We do not hear the accusations spoken in ear shot. The child whispers it into her grandmother's ear; people refuse to speak of it, out of embarrassment. When Audrey Hepburn is finally told by one of the parents why the children are being taken out of school, we watch it from the perspective of Miss Dobe, a long-shot through the screen door. This helps establish everyone's awkwardness with the subject, and acts as a mirror for the audience's discomfort. This is important, that the audience want to hear the accusations but are uncomfortable with them also.

Throughout, characters turn their backs on each other. This isn't just the grandmother and others who are visibly disgusted (yet too embarrased to broach the subject) by the women. Also, they are turn their backs on each other. They feel no shame, because the accusation is not true, but the entanglement destroys them.

The pines

The look. In melodrama, the shot that holds the gaze is allowing us to see the repressed unconcious. Not freudian demons come to haunt us, but revelations of the truth. Clarity comes in an instant. The character sees everything, and so do we. Sometimes fleeting, as in East Of Eden and sometimes painfully long and intense, as in Birth.

Uncertainty #3

I don't really like to talk about it now, and my memory isn't very vivid. It's mostly like snapshots. I remember feeling like everything had stopped, like all my internal clocks had stopped; I walked slowly. It's scary to remember. I can see now, with hindsight, and much help, that I had lost control of my mind. I was in a daydream.

Feeding the family

I'm well established now with the Marshall-Joneses. There's been much talk about me setting up on my own, getting independent again. They think that I'm responsible enough, and have even talked of finding an appropriate marriage partner. I find it difficult to think of such things; of leaving this family who have cared for so much. But in my heart, I know that they are right and this was never a permanent arrangement. They are my family of course, and always will be, but all children must leave the nest eventually.
There are always engagements - parties and gatherings that I am a part of, that I am continually invited to, and I enjoy them very much. I am over my initial crisis, my phobia of people so to speak. Most people were very patient with me, and they have never allowed to be embarrassed by it. I am grateful for that, and it is this sentyiment that I remember when I feel the guilt and shame of my past. I am loved here. I was never rude, but certainly far from becoming personable, as I am know. I was something of a savage you might say.

I made a new doll today

It wasn't cold like everyone expected. That was usually the first question when people wanted to talk to me about it. 'Weren't you cold?' I'd established good cover. I like to watched the billow of the tent, ever so slight and gentle. It wasn't cold though.
I'm thankful to one man for saving me. Charlie. He came into the wood and didn't talk to me at all. He just took me away. Do you want to know how he did it? Well, maybe we'll get to it, and maybe we won't, but the important thing to remember at this point is that I owe everything to him, and love him very much. When I saw him for the first time, I'd forgotten what I'd become, but when he looked right into me with that sternness, I knew I wouldn't be hurt. I hadn't seen anybody in a long time. I couldn't remember the month, but my old watch said 31 on the date. I don't see him so much now, but when I do, he always talks to me. He smiles as though he's really reserved something for me. Do you ever wonder who would play you if they made a film of your life? I always think Laurence Olivier would have played Charlie so perfectly. And I liked the idea of John Mills playing me. I don't really look like him, or even sound like him. He's also quite short, isn't he, and I'm over six foot. I suppose it's rather conceited.

The state of everything

There is no need for deception.

There is no need to placate foreigners. We are all in flux. I reduced all that I was capable of saying into a slogan, and it felt wonderful.