The Cycles of L'Etoile de Mer

Submitted by Megan Gibson on Wed, 12/03/2014 - 08:39

In many ways, Man Ray’s L’Etoile de Mer combines themes that seem to be recurring in the literature we’ve read so far. When in the first few scenes the “homme” left the “femme” instead of going to bed with her, I could easily picture Hemingway’s  Jake with Brett and the anxieties of impotence and of conceptions of love and relationships. The fact that most of the film takes place behind a distorted glass that the viewer must look through recalls Woolf’s window in the first section of To the Lighthouse. There is also a cyclical aspect to the film, not only in the recurring appearance of the starfish, but also the way that the characters are repeatedly shown walking down a road (or beach? I’m not exactly clear where they were). At first, we see “une femme” and “un homme” walking together. Significantly, though we can view them we cannot see them in detail. We do not therefore get a sense of their mood, a nuanced reading of the way that they interact with each other, or ways to interpret them that are commonly found in other films or in literature. The second time we see the characters walk down the now familiar lane, the woman walks alone, marking a change from the earlier scene. Finally, towards the end of the film, the woman walks alone, is met by the man, then runs away with “un autre homme.” While the other aspects of the film are certainly important, this recurring, somewhat cyclical but distinctive walk seems to mark significant moments in the story (if we can call it that) of the woman and the two men she is with. The differences in the walks (namely who is present, since that is really all we can see), are what stand out and add movement and progression to the film, but still in a way in which the reader feels the reappearance of the familiar and the sense of an ongoing, cyclical progression.

Comments

Casie Trotter

Wed, 12/03/2014 - 09:58

These are some great insights into the film, Megan--makes me wonder if watching it when I was sleepy was a brilliant or terrible decision, because most of this didn't occur to me. I like your connections to Hemingway and Woolf and the ways that you emphasize this "cyclical progression" played out.

"The New Nihilism" in Transition 2 brought some similar reflections to my mind, actually. Elliot Paul describes the progression of humanity's disillusionment and consequent loss of morality--but then proposes the "ascendancy" (166) of a "perfect inhumanity" (167). In other words, the deification of Jesus and Nietzsche are over, but now the lack of a messiah is the new deity in and of itself, if that makes any sense. The cycle of needing "perfection" continues. It's also interesting to see the dismissal of "the whirr of the machine" (167) within a decade after the War in contrast with BLAST's wartime faith in industry's potential. This cycle will keep recurring (and still is) with the next World War and subsequent developments in technology, but each time people continue to use this sort of final language as they continue to grasp for perfection--or accept the "perfect" inability to achieve it. Not much really changes, I guess.

Marie Sartain

Wed, 12/03/2014 - 10:06

I interpreted the change in the walk as more of a vortex-like plot structure than a circular one, partially because it reminded me of the classical Greek conception of time flowing in a vertical spiral.  We see the same event occur, but it is just a little different each time, building itself atop the previous iterations.

Perhaps Man Ray's use of blurring was intended to have the same purpose as Woolf's free indirect discourse:  to show that attempts to fully understand another's inner thoughts is impossible.  Because of the changes in medium, he cannot describe their thoughts like Woolf.  Instead, he removes the possibility of interpreting their thoughts through facial expression.

Hannah Covington

Wed, 12/03/2014 - 10:33

Marie's comment about the starfish recreating the image of a vortex reminded me of another possible connection linking Man Ray's film to materials we've already read in class: BLAST magazine. Both the design and content of BLAST aim to stir everything up, like a whirlpool or a vortex, and then watch what happens. The magazine plays with negative versus positive space, and its design at times visually resembles a cork screw. In the same way, the repeated starfish, echoed at the beginning of the film in the swirling ceiling fan, seems to mimic the movement of vorticism. The bricolage of images Man Ray uses in his scenes very much replicates the nocturnal world of the subconscious, filtered through hazy and foggy camera shots. Despite the film's textual overlay claiming at one point, "You do not dream," Man Ray's art of repetition and his use of fading out to black situates this story in a surreal landscape often given life with sleep.

Annie Paige

Wed, 12/03/2014 - 11:32

Great thoughts, Megan. I think your connection to Woolf's window is especially insightful. It's interesting that while To the Lighthouse attempts so much to see the interiority of its various characters with clarity, Man Ray's film blurs and distorts its characters with an obvious aesthetic. Of course, as Marie noted, Woolf's text can never be completely successful in articulating every inner feeling or thought of its characters--nor can Man Ray's short film accomplish the same feat with its characters. Both of these "failures" to provide the spectator with a clear understanding of identity speak to the shifting sense-of-self and prevalent post-war confusion present throughout the literature we've read this semester.