After this long detour, let me end by responding to the point that
is as much about the process of translating as it is about Vietnam. To unravel the 'name' of Vietnam in the context of translation is to confront the much debated politics of identityfemale identity, ethnic identity, national identity. For translation, as I suggested earlier, implies questions of language, power, and meaning, or more precisely in this film, of women's resistance vis-a-vis the sociosymbolic contractas mothers, wives, prostitutes, nurses, doctors, state employees, official cadres, heroines of the revolution. In the politics of constructing identity and meaning, language as translation and/or film as translation is necessarily a process whereby the self loses its fixed boundariesa disturbing yet potentially empowering practice of difference. For me, it is precisely in fighting on more than one front at a time, that is, in fighting not only against forms of domination and exploitation but also against less easily locatable forms of subjection or of binarist subjectivity, that the feminist struggle and other protest movements can continue to resist falling back into the consolidation of conformism.
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Godfrey Reggio
At the time of our interview, Godfrey Reggio had made only two films
(1983) and
(1988)but he had accomplished something rare in the annals of independent cinema: he had developed a considerable popular audience for feature-length, nonnarrative film experiences. After a reasonable success in commercial theaters,
has become one of the most frequently rented films on the American college circuit, an almost inevitable Earth Day presentation, and in 1990
though it had failed to live up to commercial expectations in 35mm release, was able to fill Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center more than once: Philip Glass and his ensemble performed the
sound track live. Reggio's success is due to several factors. First, he has been able to exploit a form of viewer pleasure most commercial and critical cinema has ignored, and he has been able to invest this pleasure with a spirit of social concern and spiritual mission. Second, he has developed a productive working relationship with Glass, whose music energizes both Reggio films.
attempts to develop a provocative contrast between the natural world, as epitomized by the American Southwest, and modern technological society, as epitomized by the contemporary American city. Though it is not structured as a day in the life of either of its primary urban subjects, New York and Los Angeles, it has much in common with the tradition in independent cinema of the 'city symphony'Alberto Cavalcanti's
(1926), Walter Ruttmann's
(1927), Dziga Vertov's
(1929), Arne Sucksdorff's
(1948), Francis
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Thompson's
(1957)and in particular, with the frequent use of time-lapse photography to reveal the patterns of city life, evident in
as well as in Marie Menken's
(1964), Hilary Harris's
(1975), and Peter von Ziegesar's
(1986).
After a mysterious opening shot that is not explained until the conclusion of the film,
presents gorgeous, real-time and time-lapse aerial imagery of spectacular Southwestern landscapes, including remarkable imagery of Monument Valley that reveals its contours in a manner strikingly different from the way John Ford used the same spaces in so many Westerns. Having created a sense of the grandeur and dignity of these landscapes, Reggio moves toward the city (by way of strip mines, a nuclear power plant, and electric power lines), and by combining telephoto shooting and time lapse, reveals the modern city as a gigantic machine and the human beings who live there as its moving parts.
emphasizes a paradox: Reggio's use of time lapse discovers, again and again, the remarkable degree to which the city-machine
functiontraffic zooms along expressways; cars and crowds pulse across New York streets; the day's work gets accomplishedbut at the same time, the primary product of the machine seems to be the destruction of individuality and serenity. The commercial cinema focuses on individuals, singing the beauties of particular faces and bodies, and honoring individuals' abilities to effect resolutions to whatever problems they face. In
Reggio critiques this central dimension of the popular cinema, by revealing that our trust in individuality is often a function of our ability to blind ourselves (really and cinematically) to the larger patterns within which what we call individuality is subsumed.
The conclusion of
provides a completion of the mysterious opening shot, revealing it to be the thrusting jets of a rocket that subsequently blasts off and explodes, its fragments tumbling slowly back to earth, and a definition of the film's title: 'ko yaa nis qatsi (from the Hopi language) n. 1. crazy life. 2. life in turmoil. 3. life out of balance. 4. life disintegrating. 5. a state of life that calls for another way of living.' The frame provided by the rocket image and the definition are Reggio's implicit critique of the commercial cinema's general reliance on optimistic resolution and its
