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5 8 6 3 reference is made to
In 1946 Ann Miller, a tap dancer known for her machine-gun tapping,
was set against speed typist Ruth Myers in a publicity stunt to
determine who had the fastest tap. In a photograph of the contest the
Hollywood dancer-film star and the secretary are set side by side, with
Miller (privileged in the frame) positioned on the right and Myers on
the left. The dancer is posed mid-step, dressed in a spunky girl-nextdoor chequered midriff top and matching shorts, while the bespectacled
typist - presumably, though less visibly, mid-strike - is seated before
her typewriter in a considerably more demure outfit. Each is wired for
sound with microphones, aimed at feet and fingers respectively,
capturing beats that the ear would almost certainly miss. Miller came in
first at this event, clocking in at a remarkable 627 taps per minute (or in
film terms, a tap for every 2.3 frames), beating Myers's no less
astounding 584 types per minute as well as some of her own earher
records"
The photograph of this event presents us with a curious image in that
it both recalls and resists familiar images of the gendering of labour
and leisure. If the image is read from right to lefi, Myers is Miller's
accompanist; rather than being seated at a typewriter, she should be
seated before that other feminized keyboard. the piano, which was in
many ways the typewriter's parlour-predecessor for women. If the
image is read from left to right. however, Myers would be taking
dictation from her (presumably male) boss. But the photograph of
Miller and Myers confuses not only these familiar iconographies because the image does not tell us n,hat these two women were tapping
355
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Jerome McGann argues that 'this poem is, among other thmgs, a brief
allegory about what has happened to western art between the sixteenth
century and our own day', with Shelley's invented lover for Medusa
the harbinger of a monumental change in thinking about Medusa, and
Hine's poem 'as far from Shelley as Shelley is from the sixteenth
century'." What distinguishes these lines is a fascination with the
moment just before Perseus slays Medusa, as the poet deviates from a
narrative of heroic action and focuses instead on the vacillation that
precedes it. The moment of hesitation becomes a flash of possibility.
The poem's title, Tableau Vivant, underscores the connection between
the momentarily immobilized tableau and this indecision before the act
that forever cements Medusa's place in myth. The purpose of modern
art, writes Adorno, is to 'teach the petrified forms how to dance by
singing them their own song'; but modernity veils those paralyzed
forms behind an illusion of movement and innovation. The tableau
vivant stills bodies to display that stupefaction, and then to petrify the
viewer, allowing for the return of difference, leading to 'a discovery of
the joints and sutures in the stone. So that the statues - the forms, the
. ~ past turned to stone, the
fetishes - do finally creak into m o t i ~ n ' The
tableau vivant in Jarman's Caravaggio also echoes with haunting
voices, with the songs of those momentarily stilled bodies who have
gazed at Medusa and lived.
403
Sceen 44 4 fl.i.re, 2K:! :aces Theed!~ h e suspended soemcle 01 hrr!orr 3erek Jaman s Carava@ta
could see the show as nothing but a tragic failure for black audiences
and the wider black community.
Ultimately the show was both a success and a failure. Its
groundbreaking attempts to circulate progressive and empowering
images of African-Americans along with socially relevant
representations of poverty and racism inevitably needed to be harnessed
to older, regressive images so as not to alienate and alarm white
audiences. The saga of Good Tinlrs reveals that prime-time television
could indeed provide a venue for the exploration of hitherto
unrepresented aspects of African-American life in the wake of the
1960s revolution in race relations. However, such representations could
only be compromised ones. As a popular cultural institution, primetime television could no more transcend power structures of white
dominance and meaning construction than could other social, cultural
or political institutions. That prime-time television sewed as a venue
for negotiating new and potentially empowering representations for
African-Americans during this period is, however, a testament to the
cultural effectiveness of the movement for black empowerment. For a
short period. black cultural producers with their liberal white allies
(albeit soon-to-be-adversaries) managed to circulate a discourse that
was different, grounded in the particularities of inner-city black life,
and did so from at least the semblance of a black point of view.
48
IS
Su~ialPtinesb
on more than one occasion Dai makes confident statements to the effect
that 'strictly speaking, postcolonial theory is a leftist resistance theory
generated by Third World intellectuals in the US academy' (p. 253).
Again, ironically for a critic who has her guns trained on US
domination of globalization, it seems Dai's field of vision excludes the
subaltern studies scholars of South Asia, whom many would credit with
inventing postcolonial theory, and the crucial contributions of scholars
based in the UK, such as Stuart Hall and Paul Gilroy.
The impression that Cinema and Desire is best suited to the
knowledgeable professional is reinforced by its presentation, something
for which Dai hcrsclf is clearly not responsible. Whereas Pang's book
includes a bibliography with full Chinese character entries, Dai's book
misses Chinese characters completely, making it difficult to trace
sources. The original publication details and dates for the Chinese
versions of the essays are not given. Worst of all, the translators do not
use the English-language export titles for the films she writes about, but
instead translate the titles literally. Unless you are already in the know,
you may never work out that the film you saw as The Drive to Win
appears here as Seagull, or Army Nurse as The Chamber of Maidens
(p. 142). The whole point of publishing a book of translations is to
make the work accessible to those who cannot read Chinese, but this
can only create further confusion.
However, unlike Dai herself, it is imperative not to end this review
on a negative note. Despite my reservations, this long-awaited
collection remains compulsory reading. We need to hear not only the
voices of western critics and transplanted Chinese scholars on Chinese
film, but also the insights of those writing from inside China itself.
Cinema and Desire gives English-language readers access to the
insights of one of the most brilliant Chinese film and popular culture
scholars of her generation, and Dai's bracing arguments will challenge
many of our complacent assumptions about the achievements of
Chinese cinema and push us to face up to its contradictions and
vicissitudes in ways that only the work of an insider can.