Valencia and Joseph Cornell

This may be a little backwards, but for my next blog entry I’ve decided to talk about Rose Hobart and the discussion that ensued about fan videos. If they are being honest with themselves, everyone can say there is someone that they idolise. They memorise their birthday, collect pictures of them, and dedicate their desktop background to them. Okay, maybe not everyone is to that point of “obsession,” but the point is that people do feel personal connections to certain people in the media. For me, it’s a small pop punk band from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania named Valencia. I was introduced to their music last year and fell in love instantly. Their immense talent and passion for music is something that I am constantly seeking, and I feel a connection to their music and the message they aim display. I have been to several of their shows and met them on a couple occasions, but they still hold this ethereal quality. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed, just that I have a strong penchant for the music they produce and are willing to express it to anyone who asks.

Reading that over, it all sounds so creepy. What would they think if they saw this blog entry? The eerie notion is, in retrospect, the reason fan videos have gained such a bad reputation. The taboo of voyeurism is heavily prevalent in today’s society and most people are perpetually frightened by the idea of being obsessed over or stalked. Even this week’s edition of The Bull has an article about “the relationship between fans, celebrities, and fansites.” The article is accompanied by “The Bull’s Top 3 Wackiest Fan Stories,” which tells hilarious tales of what lengths some fans will go to in order to be recognized or appreciated by their object of their affection. But the truth is most fans are harmless. They just feel a passion about something – movies, music, art – and want to create something in tribute to the very thing that is the source of such a strong emotional reaction.


Joseph Cornell is no exception. He was a man who tended to isolate himself from other people. His intense shyness made it impossible for him to carry on any type of romantic relationship, although he was attractive to women. Instead of maintaining relationships, he used his creative instincts to express himself. Although his creation of Rose Hobart could be construed as over the top, it was his creative outlet for expressing the love he had for this actress and the work she did. I cannot say for sure, but I interpret Cornell’s creation of Rose Hobart as a strong tribute to the work of an actress he greatly appreciated.

Our class discussion revolving around fan videos kept reminding me of a recently developing phenomenon in the social sciences known as “parasocial relationships.” With the expansion of media, from television to the internet, this phenomenon has become increasingly popular since the mid-20th century. Some people develop “friendships” based on the illusory interaction they share with people they see on television, such as celebrities and fictitious characters. The viewer creates a one-way bond with these people and feels as if they truly know them. The growing popularity of this concept may have contributed the bad reputation given to fans everywhere. There are obviously extreme cases – as there are in any situation – but fans in general should still be appreciated for the things they do and create as a tribute to the people they admire. Some legitimacy still exists between fans and they things they do, say, and create otherwise, why would Joseph Cornell’s Rose Hobart have been deemed, “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant by the US National Film Registry in 2001? He had to have done something right.

Rutmann and Maslow

So this is my first entry for the Cinematic Modernism blog. Before I start, I want to let you guys in on a little secret: at heart, I’m a huge psychology nerd. Discussion of behaviourism and fixed ratio reinforcement schedules makes me happy. Although some people think psychology is a load of crap, I find it’s one of the best ways to explain the behaviour of the confusing and intricate species called humans. You may wonder why I’m bothering to tell you this, but I figure (1) you should know a little something about me and (2) you need to understand where I’m coming from. Many of my blog entries may allude to some psychological theory and I want you to know that I just can’t help it; My dominant response is to analyse.

Anyways, now that I’m done rambling I guess I should discuss what I came here to do. Although I love watching movies, I have a tendency to miss out on many movies that are deemed “important” by the rest of the world. For example, for a girl who goes to school thirty minutes North of Boston, Massachusetts, most people are appalled that I have yet to view The Departed (oh yeah, did I mention I’m from the States?).

This class is giving me a taste of a movie genre I’m definitely not familiar with. While I love older films, such as Charade and Double Indemnity, I am at a loss when it comes to modernist, silent films. So far, the movies have been intriguing. When viewing Berlin, Symphony of a City, I was struck by the banality depicted. To me, the anthology of events displayed throughout this film could be thrown into any city, during any time period, and be accepted as typical.

The act that struck me the most was Act 4, with the beginning of the lunch hour. There is approximately two minutes of scenes depicting people from all walks of life consuming lunch. Again, I couldn’t help but notice how prosaic of a task this was. We all eat lunch, every day; who cares to see a bunch of people doing the same thing we are so intimately familiar with? I figured there had to be a much bigger picture that I was missing out on with my first interpretation of this scene of the film.

In my typical psychological mindset, the first thing that came to my mind was Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The first step of this pyramid focuses on the physiological needs of humans such as food, water, shelter, and clothing. Maslow’s idea is that without fulfilling this first tier, humans have no hope of living a fulfilled, or actualized, life. So by displaying the consumption of food in this film, Rutmann is fulfilling that need. I get the impression that by adding in this scene, Rutmann is giving the subjects of the film, though they remain nameless and anonymous, the ability to become self-actualized. This may be of a stretch… but it makes sense in my head.

But as I made my way up Maslow’s pyramid, I realized that after steps one and two, two being the need for social security, this lunch scene pretty much filters away from the rest of the steps. Billy Stevenson in his notes on the film writes that there is a “common denominator of isolation” in this section of the film. Most characters during this film are alone, quickly eating their meal so they can get back to work on time. Going back to Maslow’s pyramid, all the people involved in this part of Act 4 fail to come close to fulfilling their need for long and belonging. Any sort of companionship displayed seems to be one of convenience, not one that displays appreciation or belonging. Perhaps we become so focused on fulfilling our most basic, physiological need that we lose the opportunity to take this lunch break as a time for socialisation, enjoyment, and relaxation.

Berlin, Symphony of a City is an intriguing film that properly displays the triteness of every day life. On further inspection, I’ve found that although I cannot be sure, it appears that Rutmann is trying to make the point that maybe the key to life is finding the good and surprising moments within the banality of life. If we all succumb to the daily routine of life and focus solely on our basic needs, what is the point of living? Perhaps the message behind this film is to open our eyes and look for those things that make each day unique.