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Exploring Themes in Film: |
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I. The
Thematic Design of Radio Days
One good
way to study a film is to attempt to grasp its system. By system, I mean an overall structure, shape or pattern.
Many people make the mistake of noticing only isolated, striking moments in
films. A systematic approach tries to work out the main organising principles
which cohere the whole film – or, at
least, as much of the film as can be cohered. For each
moment, scene, character, etc., we should ask: how are they meant to fit into the overall design?
There are
many kinds of systems in film, but here I will only be discussing the system of themes – the thematic or semantic system. What is a theme? A theme is a broad subject, topic, or idea – what a
film (or book), in the most general sense, is about.
Now, if
someone asked you “what is Die Hard (McTiernan,
1988) about?”, you could answer, “It’s about Bruce
Willis trying to stay alive”. But that’s not a theme, it’s a plot summary. A
theme is not specific but general, even abstract or ‘second order’.
It is often, in fact, a rather philosophical or speculative kind of creature.
If you said that Die Hard was about
“the problem of surviving in the modern world”, or “how to be a man today” or
somesuch, you would be talking themes.
However, a
crucial warning: a theme is not (and should not be reduced to) a simple, pat
message, statement or proverb. “Good is preferable to evil” or “Racism is a
terrible thing” are not very dynamic themes; they are static statements.
When
exploring themes in film (as in literature or theatre), the important thing is
to grasp the way they unfold across the length of the work. A theme is not an
inert proposition that is demonstrated the same way over and over. Rather, it is dramatised: proposed, discussed,
considered from different angles, weighed up. Any film with a rich or
interesting theme is one where there are progressive variations on that theme,
points and counterpoints, contradictions and doubts, as in a considered debate
or discussion.
Rather than
assuming that every film arrives at (or starts from) a message, it is far more
productive to take the stance that it explores
a question. In the case of Woody Allen’s Radio Days (1987), we
could start with a question as broad as this: how does the mass media (symbolised here by radio) affect people in their everyday lives? If we look across the mosaic of the film, we can see that it considers many
possible or provisional responses to this question. Some incidents in the film
suggest that radio fills the characters with hopeless, silly or impossible
dreams (e.g., Aunt Bea’s romantic ideal). Other scenes, just as important, show
how radio is a welcome consolation, helping to prompt ‘magic moments’, or
simple amusement, in even the drabbest parts of daily life (e.g., the family
members miming to Carmen Miranda). And the most serious segment (concerning the
death of a little girl) shows the radio as a force which brings a community
together in collective grief.
People
often cannot see themes in a film clearly because they are too fixated or
seduced by the specifics of the plot, and particularly by the seeming
flesh-and-blood reality of the characters. Many students can only talk about a film
on the basis of their reactions to these characters – their inner motivations,
whether they are likeable or not, whether they are believable characters one
might meet in the real world, and so on. But this can be a big mistake.
It is
better to think of the characters in a film as pieces on a chessboard. They
have a symbolic function: they stand for certain aspects of the theme,
embodying different values, lifestyles or philosophies that are being compared
and contrasted by the film.
Often, as
in Radio Days, film characters are
quite simple or basic, without any particularly complex inner psychology
whatsoever: one is a whinger, another is a dreamer, there’s a fat guy, a whore
with a heart of gold ... pure character stereotypes, in other words. But this
is not a problem for a thematic system. In Radio
Days, for instance, Sally (Mia Farrow) stands for someone who crosses over
from the daily grind to the fabulous world of the media; in doing so, she reveals
some of the truths of that world’s workings. Each character in the family unit
is defined as having a different kind of fantasy life fed by radio, a
particular form of imaginary escapism: one is into improbable sports legends,
another lets off steam by listening to “The Court of Human Emotions”, and so on.
Many people
believe they can take a short-cut to a film’s themes by quoting what seem to be
extremely significant or meaningful lines of dialogue – as if the message of
the film is to be found in a condensed form there. But this is very often a
mistake, even a trap. A film does not necessarily intend to say what its
characters happen to say. We must look to something bigger, broader and more
inclusive: the system of the film.
So how do
we trace a film’s system? We look for significant patterns, repetitions (or motifs),
and echoes. Radio Days is full of
such patterns (some of which I have noted in the following segment breakdown).
Several times in the movie, for instance, a devastating piece of world news
interrupts the normal flow of both everyday life and radio mythology. Another
recurring event in the film, effecting several
different characters, is good fortune: Sally is endlessly the recipient of it,
the household in the film’s prologue benefits from it, Bea’s life is
momentarily made magical by it. The experience of aloneness’ even at the heart
of this boisterous family, also recurs: young Woody
keeps his submarine vision to himself; Bea continues to dream at the end.
As I have already
suggested, films – interesting films, at any rate – do not have simple, static
messages. They weigh up a topic, considering it in this way and that in
symbolic terms, and then they tend towards some type of provisional judgment. The
ultimate attitude of Radio Days concerning the relation between media and everyday life will not be found by
isolating one incident, or quoting someone’s pithy line of dialogue. It has to
be intuited, and then traced across the whole film – not only in what it shows
but how it shows it, in all its changing moods, implications, and emotional
undertones.
What are
the major themes and sub-themes of Radio
Days? Its essential, organising principle is to constantly compare and
contrast different worlds: particularly the two central worlds of radio (and
its mythologies), set against the ordinary, domestic world of the family. Each
of these worlds is explored in detail, and shown to have its own duality – a visible and an invisible
aspect, or face. The radio world is ostensibly a glamorous, ideal one; but it
is, in reality, full of ‘tricks’, criminal favours, and less-than-ideal personal
conduct. The everyday world has its drab routines, but each person within it
experiences (via the radio) dreams, magic moments, instances of fabulous good
fortune, and an environment of bubbly, happy sociality. As it unfolds, Allen
shows these different worlds, and aspects of worlds, either as entirely
separate, or suddenly coming together: Sally joins (with her fluctuating
accent) the ‘common’ world to the milieu of showbiz high life; the boys
unexpectedly get their sexual fantasy as a substitute teacher; the family runs
into the celebrated maths ‘wiz kid’ at the zoo.
Other themes
are pervasive and intriguing but, since they are less central, they constitute sub-themes or threads of the film. These
sub-themes include: the nature of story-telling (‘tall’ or fanciful stories in
particular); and the theme of nostalgia and memory – more particularly, the
poignant impermanence of memory,
which Allen stages in his narration, starting with “Now it’s all gone, expect
for the memories”, and ending with the sad reflection, “I will never forget the
people, the voices ... though with each passing year, those voices do grow
dimmer, and dimmer.” In its whole glowing, vignette style, the film presents
itself to us as a precious, fleeting memory about to fade into oblivion – a
comment on the poignancy of human history and passing time, on how so few human
acts (no matter how consuming or fabulous they were in their moment) are
remembered or preserved. Only this film, this collection of stories preserves
them – but films too, like radio shows, will be forgotten and lost.
II. Basic
Breakdown of the Segmental Structure of Radio
Days
It is often
useful and illuminating to figure out the basic structure of a film – its major
acts, parts or segments. Films are usually scripted in just this way, with the
structure sometimes being changed during editing.
I define a
movie segment as a section of the
film which clearly feels (in its whole rhythm and emotional flow) like it has a
beginning, an end, and a development in between. A segment is a ‘felt block’ of
the film, in this sense. This is exceptionally clear in Radio Days, where each segment has a clear theme or idea which
guides it: such as the introduction to the time, place, and all the family members
(segment 2); or ‘memories cued by songs’ (segment 8).
Film
segments can be put together in different ways. In some films, a segment might
be just one protracted, dramatic scene,
with strict unity of time and setting (examples can be found in His Girl Friday, Hawks, 1942, and Johnny Guitar, Ray, 1953). Every
segment of Radio Days, however, takes
the form of a mosaic – a lot of little scenes strung together and often made to
smoothly flow via Allen’s voice-over narration, as well as bridging songs (for
instance, Diane Keaton’s song in segment 16). You will notice embedded narratives (i.e., little
narratives within the large narrative we are watching) in segments 6 & 7 –
someone in the film starts telling or imagining a story which the film briefly
illustrates for us. And, since this is very much a film about stories and the telling
of stories (including some rather fanciful tall stories and legends), some of the anecdotes related in the film (such as spying
on the naked woman in segment 10) have a later cap-off (when this woman reappears
as the replacement teacher in segment 12).
Breaking
down Radio Days into its major
segments reveals a number of important things about its themes, and the way
these themes are formed into a system. (It also helps to reveal, I might add,
why Allen is far better as a scriptwriter than as a director!) It becomes
clear, for instance, that what really drives or organises the film is not the
destinies of individual characters – we are not privy to the life story of
every character – but, rather, different ways of presenting the lifestyle of a
whole family/community, as it lives with the ever-present radio (as in segment
10, ‘Life During Wartime’). It also becomes clear how Allen has structured the
film around the consistent comparison between two worlds – the real, domestic
world of the family, and the showbiz world of radio and its personalities.
Finally, we can see clearly how, at regular key moments, both these worlds are
suddenly cut into by broader world events and tragedies – the war (at the end of
segment 9), or the death of the little girl (segment 15).
Segment 1: Prologue Story – Burglars
Win Radio Prize
The use of
this prologue clearly announces to us the film’s major concern with the way
radio affects the course of social life. It previews other themes and motifs as
well: the role of luck in everyday life; and the strange collision of different
worlds (citizen and criminal) via the radio.
Segment 2: Introduction/Exposition
Expositions
in fiction introduce for us all the important elements of the story we need to
know – time, place, the names and basic traits of the major characters. Major
themes are also introduced – most clearly, the theme of two distinct worlds
(everyday family life and the mythic world of radio showbiz), and the ways they
interact. Allen’s reflective voice-over narration keys us into other important
themes, such as the permanence or impermanence of memory.
Segment 3: The Masked Avenger Ring
Story
The
previous segment has teased us to wait for this anecdote. It is a little
allegory (or symbolic tale) of the gap between myth (the voice/character on the
radio) and reality (the weedy actor) – an important and recurring theme in the
film.
Segment 4: Aunt Bea’s Romances – the
Martian Invasion Story
Here is a
classic case of an iterative narrative
thread – Bea will have many men, we are meant to assume they are all much the
same, and that she has much the same disillusioning experiences with each of
them. This story ‘stands in’ for all the other, untold Aunt Bea stories. Theme-wise,
Bea’s attachment to an impossible romantic ideal is (like all the normal
characters’ dreams) fed by the radio. Note how this segment gives us a first,
comic statement of a motif that will later become serious: the cutting-into the
flow of both everyday life and radio fantasy by a shock news bulletin (which
here, of course, is just another piece of showbiz fantasy).
Segment 5: The Story of Roger, Irene
and Sally
Sally (Mia
Farrow) is an important symbolic character in the film, for
the changes in her fortune chart her upward mobility through different,
distinct worlds, thus showing how these worlds interrelate. This segment
continues the theme of the discrepancy between myth (Roger and Irene the
perfect, happy, sophisticated couple) and reality (furtive rooftop trysts).
Note the playful way the narration refers to the ‘several possible versions’ of
the ending of this story.
Segment 6: The People Next Door
This brief,
strange segment is perhaps about the power of radio to fascinate, lull and
seduce – called over by the radio next door into an unfamiliar, non-Jewish
world, one character returns a completely changed man! (Presumably, he reverts to
his old self just as fast.) Note the completely surreal embedded story in this
segment.
Segment 7: Favourite Radio Shows
This is a
segment full of rich cultural detail about the place of radio in people’s very
distinct tastes and experiences. Four shows cue four different ways of relating
to/living with radio. The segment concludes with the only occasion on which the
real family world and the mythical radio world collide – when the family bumps
into the wiz kid.
Segment 8: Songs and Memories
Six songs
trigger six vignettes, vivid flashes (or ‘moments of magic’) that are not quite
anecdotes. This segment introduces the theme of the precious, fleeting memory,
which can be sweet (the parents’ kiss), whimsical (the carrot), or a sign of
colourful, everyday sociality (three family members miming to Carmen Miranda –
this is the song that appears again over the final credits).
Segment 9: Sally’s Good Fortune
The film
detours fancifully for a segment into a comic rendering of a grand old
Segment 10: Life During Wartime
Another segment concentrating on the cultural/social situation of the
entire community, and how radio influences various people’s actions. Note the theme of fantasy linked to
aloneness: the young Woody sees/imagines a Nazi submarine, but tells no-one
because “only Biff Boxer would believe it”. Such bittersweet reflections on
radio-fed fantasy become increasingly frequent in the film from this point on.
Segment 11: Love During Wartime
This
patchwork segment relates the ultimate Bea story (the gay boyfriend), placed
in-between the scene of the air raid drill, which offers another unusual,
precious moment of beauty experienced in everyday life.
Segment 12: The Substitute Teacher
This very
brief segment is the delayed pay-off to the story of the nude in segment 10.
The story represents an unexpectedly happy alignment of different worlds –
adolescent, sexual fantasy and drab, classroom reality.
Segment 13: The Further Fortunes of
Sally
Sally now
crosses over form her own everyday ordinariness, via rigorous elocution
training, into a role as a mythical persona on the radio.
Segment 14: Summation of Everyday
Life
This
segment focuses on the drab realities and disillusionments in the everyday
lives of normal people (the revelation of the father’s occupation; Bea’s
boyfriend who never divorces), intertwined with a further magic moment in the
dance palace, the good fortune of winning a competition, and the richness of
everyday sociality (the conga line).
Segment 15: Death of a Little Girl
The most
serious segment in the film, this shows how radio collects diverse people in
grief over the plight of someone who is personally unknown to them – radio
itself creating a community, shared experience, shared feeling.
Segment 16: The New Year
This finale
is built on the cross-cutting or alternation between New Year at home, and at a
showbiz nightclub. Sally’s fluctuating accent reminds us of the diverse worlds
she has inhabited. Note how the film brings together many characters we have
seen in previous segments such as the real Masked Avenger, and Roger &
Irene. Refusing any obvious gag possibilities (like Roger again encountering
Sally on the same roof), the film ends on a tone of ‘life goes on’ whimsy and
melancholia, in both the everyday and the showbiz world; Allen concludes with a
final reflection on the impermanence of memory.
Previously unpublished notes from a
presentation at
© Adrian Martin October 1990 |
