Last Week

Zala was so fascinating to talk too. She was incredibly insightful and brought a very unique perspective to class concerning the landscape of collective guilt. Our discussion reminded me very much of bourgeois repression in Caché. Both films approach the subject of a voluntary national amnesia, resulting in further psychological isolation of the victim. However, For Those Who Tell No Tales deprives the audience of such images of violence, relying on the audience's imagination evoked by dark tourism. In Caché, Haneke provides very visceral imagery of an individual victim's trauma, while For Those never puts a face on the victim. Despite the films' contrasting methods, both conjure similar experiences for the audience - a haunting distance from the protagonist. We know very little of Georges nor Kym. This emotional isolation focuses the audience's attention on the potency of the subject. By denying the audience a vehicle of catharsis, both Haneke and Zbanic refuse to endorse an apologetic release. In this way, both films reject conclusion, suggesting the responsibility falls to the viewer to address the implications of guilt.

Therefore, the aim of films that seek to reveal a 'dark' history seems to be in directing blame. Yet pointing fingers never leads to social advancement. Thus, perhaps these films require interpretation within a wider context - that is; where do they lead us? What next? We have acknowledged the repressed content of history through this art form, how do we move forward? The progress comes in preventing history from repeating itself. Films become like historical landmarks, serving as a compelling reminder of the past.

I find the need for humans to grasp onto concrete memorabilia fascinating, yet flawed. Why do we not trust ourselves to remember the past? What do Kym's actions at the end of the film contribute or serve in the long term? Memorials serve little purpose besides making the intangible concrete. Our memories are volatile and subject to repression, but the physical reality must be solid and stable, correct? We do not trust ourselves to remember, but we do trust memorials to do the job for us. For example, in Berlin, the wall stands a tangible reminder of a horrid past. But in For Those, the hotel does not become a memorial. Indeed, the transformation of space to repress or commemorate the past retains the properties of memory, vulnerable to the same malleability. Thus, relying on memorials to do the work for you is not enough. You cannot simply acknowledge the past, as these films imply. Further steps must be taken, but what are these?