Dec. 17 2015 | Non classé |
“Beware, censor, look at this throbbing hand of a woman in the foreground, look at that dark eye, this sensual mouth; your son will dream of it tonight, and thanks to this he will escape the life of slavery that you have destined for him. (… Censors) do not recognize the all-powerful, liberating virtues of dreams, of poetry, nor of the flame that burns inside all hearts that are too proud to bear comparison with a pigsty. Despite their scissors, love will triumph. Because cinema is only an instrument of propaganda for higher thinking.” *
This sensual warning from Robert Desnos, published in 1927, describes how, in all spheres of life – public, collective, private, intimate, fantastical – there exist conventions, prohibitions and taboos. The histories of institutionalized censorship and that of the arts are intertwined like two winding vines that climb up the social stock.
René Vautier en 1973, pendant sa grève de la faim. Droits réservés.
As the judicial branch of what society rejects as dangerous for its survival, censorship by the State rarely makes a mistake. In the middle of the twentieth century, for example, it carefully tried to defuse three of the most explosive and methodical films in terms of the future of forms: René Vautier’s anti-colonialist tract Afrique 50 (1950), Jean Genet’s erotic visual poem Un Chant d’amour (1950), and Gil J Wolman’s kinetic sound installation L’Anticoncept (1951). The first two were shot illegally and banned, and the third was censored on the grounds of ‘imbecility’. René Vautier was sentenced to one year and one day in prison for making Afrique 50. The fearlessness and inventiveness of these filmmakers (aged respectively, 22, 30 and 21) gave cinema three formal bombs, all three inextricably political, erotic and artistic. We could summarize the aesthetic history of the twentieth century by analyzing both the apparent differences and the deeper similarities that unite this sublime involuntary triad.