Everydayness within Films

EVERYDAYNESS IN FILMS AND IT’S ROLE IN REVEALING SPATIAL PRACTICES OLIVER BALDOCK. NOVEMBER 2014. 0609A.

Lefebvre argued that: “Let us emphasize yet again the efforts which literature, cinema and even some specialists in the social sciences have made to get closer to the ‘lived’, to eliminate the arbitrary transpositions of the everyday, to grasp ‘what is extraordinary within the ordinary’, and ‘the significance of the insignificant’.” (1961) Using examples, consider how the study of “everydayness” in films can reveal daily spatial practices that are often taken for granted.

Everydayness is a subject little thought about in our lives considering it makes up the majority of our time. When sat in an office working, or procrastinating whilst writing an essay about spatial practices in film, we are looking to the next big thing, something that takes us out of our everyday lives. As a tourist, we look for the 'important' things in the cities, the museums, the monuments, the skyscrapers. What we tend to avoid is the everyday lives of the residents, of the workers, because that's what we have escaped from. However, the everyday is not unimportant, it creates the majority of our memories, everyday is where the interactions with friends and families occur and more importantly, it's where we see change. Not the temporary change of a holiday or a new outfit, but permanent change, growth of character and of life and death. Thus XXXX's argument of Architecture or revolution becomes important in my study of everydayness within Malick's 'Tree of Life'.

We start with a scene setting of sorts, an introduction of connections within the film with baby Jack being walked between his father's legs. The shot is low, cropped below the waist, the audience, well those who are parents, understand the activity. The extraordinary first steps placed with the ordinary

activity of walking defines the growth and maturing we experience throughout the film within the front yard. Jack is walking in his father's footsteps, a deliberate connotation from Malick of the character growth that happens later, but more importantly the cut of the scene emphasises a notion of puppetry, he is both in the footsteps and shadow of his father. The low shot is key for avoiding the sky and direct sunlight before the camera is lifted up, with Jack to look over O'brien's [the father] shoulder. The tree in blossom roots it within Jack's timeline, he is a new born, held in his father's arms as he points towards the light. However, even though the tree grows, the blossom still occurs every year. This suggests change can be cyclical as well as linear, the everyday routine may not seem to change on a day to day basis, the tree is still there in the same front garden where the children play everyday but it is growing. The shot places the tree squarely in the background, the extraordinary is the focus of our lives, but without us realising these ordinary changes and growths are happening until someone mentions how big you've grown or how the tree has got too tall.

We see Jack's growth through his memories, both of his childhood and of his parents. This, without doubt, already gives significance to the scenes Malick produces throughout the movie for they have become memories which means they must be of importance. This give us licence to read deeper into the series of contrasting scenes we see of O'brien through Jack's eyes.

The question that these scenes asks is how the space affects the everyday. There is a marked

difference between O'brien's attitude within the house and the church compared to the front lawn.

This is of significance through the whole film as we look more in detail at each shot. Keeping in mind that these are still, very loosely, Jack's memories, the opening of the bedroom door frames the father from behind. We see him in the light in his own home, from below, looking up. Importantly, this is the same angle Jack would see him from when lying on his bed, similar perspective but from a different position. The camera follows O'brien's movements into the room, and the camera pans from Jack to the left, then round to the right. A box with windows on three walls, yet we can't see out, we can't see past the house to the outside. Again the camera frames him in the window whilst the quick pan mimics his movements similar to an initial scene of the mother swinging. The focus of the shot is clearly on the influences of his childhood as the camera swings to his brother of who's death has caused these flashbacks.

The second scene features O'brien, the organ and Jack, in that specific order. Both the organ and O'brien are bathed in artificial light and as it pans around the organ and the playing hands we catch glimpses of Jack. 'The everyday is what remains after one has eliminated specialised activities.' The O'brien we see outside of the house and outside of the front lawn has a different everyday. He tries to live out his dreams of being a musician through the church and his success through his various patents. But Jack is left page turning, and perhaps this quote is quite apt at suggesting his view.

O'brien certainly appears to feel that the everyday is what remains, insignificant compared to the significant. The camera suggests this, placing Jack in the darkness, pulled back from the light, he is not significant in this place. Place is used loosely because the scene is not set, we see few boundaries other than that between father and son. The everyday differs between people and the

length of the shot with the overarching music questions the boundary between the ordinary and extraordinary. For example, spatially, the organ is of no meaning to Jack, it is the space where he, almost unwillingly, supports his father who finds his solace, with eyes closed, in this extraordinary place.

Certau argues that the everyday is a set of 'spaceless practices without an organising discourse.'

Malick certainly indulges this imagery when centring his camera around the tree. Panning up of the ground, the site is lost, the audience could be taken anywhere as the children climb up towards the golden light. The branches frame the shot and dapple the light. The significance of a tree, how many times a day do you want past one unappreciated, yet the climbing of them is buried deep in most childish memories. How Malick glorifies this experience through the shot, never showing the edge of the tree suggests it's endlessness, and infinity of imagination and infinite memories.

In fact, it is only when Jack the Architect, the reminiscent man, is looking out from his work place

that we see [the] tree as a whole, in its entirety. As the camera pans up the trunk, as in every other shot of the tree in the movie, the audience is overwhelmed, not this time by the the expanse of the tree, but the buildings towering over us. The once open sky, limitless sky is restricted on all sides, the scene is no longer golden, but clouded for this is no longer a memory but the present. It cannot be glorified, he has lost his roots and the next scene shows his imprisonment in this modern world.

The light is still dappled but by the harsher, more organised steel frame work. He has entered, at least according to Certau's definition, the extraordinary with the organised discourse and designed spaces. Yet Malick shows none of this, the audience cannot understand the space through the towering surroundings or a single journey up a liftshaft. This emphasises the favour for the everyday spaces in the film, the spectacular is overwhelming, the sun pierces down and we are spatially confused. Malick chooses, as Venturi puts it, 'the messy vitality over obvious unity'. The key to this point being is that the vitality, the messiness of everyday life is in contest to unity, a whole family. The previous discussion of the series of scenes shows Jack's mixed views of his father, the relationship and their house is not perfect. His father reaches across the dining table to grab his son, there are weeds in the lawn, the boundary with the neighbour is defined, it is not a unified world, perfectly defined by some overarching power. It is everyday life and it is messy.

Malick works well in questioning the audience's views through the interspersing of the movie with these powerful cosmic scenes that drive from the creation of the universe to its death. There are two sides to be gained from this contrasting imagery. The first questions whether the creation of the universe has come to this. Whether the fusing of elements and the entire history of our planet leads to the events Malick lays out for us, as if to say, 'is this it?' The other, more preferable point being made is that the creation of the world has led to these moments, the everyday is part of the history of us, and just as magnificent as any Big Bang. This play with scales brings into question our significant in the entirety of the universe, emphasising the birth scene of Jack which follows and an elevation of the everyday. Malick does this well with the amount of scenes dedicated to memory, to the points in Jack's past through which he has grown. But the magic has been emphasised, the camera captures the best of these banalities to open up the reading to the audience. Scenes are shot

in the golden hour, shadows and the skills of the camera man emphasise movement to allow the audience to both engage in the memories and see a beauty in playing with the kids and the significance of dining room conversations. The 'Tree of Life' is not a judgement on the figures portrayed but rather an exploration of their daily interactions. Explicit comments are left for the camera as shown by the simple scene where Jack witnesses a family argument through the window into another house, the shot is lengthened as if to make a point, it is, after all, occurring within the house, the man's 'territory'. His family is not perfect but he is not alone, the relationship both with others and the surrounding space is of everyday occurrence.

The question then returns to Architecture or revolution. Capitalised Architecture for the designed 'extraordinary' buildings that Jack finds himself in. Architecture is static, once built, the walls and doors do not change until there is a revolution. The spaces in between do. The lived in, the inhabited spaces grow and change and mature like a tree, the everyday spills out of designed spaces.

However, they are 'two sides of a reality more amazing than fiction,' the 'extraordinary' cannot work without the 'ordinary'. The everyday is a set of spaces and 'functions' which connect and join together functions that might appear to be distinct.' The emphasis on 'appear' is of utmost importance, the two are not distinct and whilst Malick may be able to completely separate the everyday memories of home, the front yard and the kitchen, from the skyscraper, the modernist house and this infinite desert, there is still the tree that connects them all. The imagery is rooted in his growth. The significant spaces facilitate the insignificant and vice versa.

In conclusion, whilst Malick's 'Tree of Life' show's a divide between the everyday spaces and lives of its characters, and the more extraordinary side to the growth of people and communities, it is clear that the two are not separate. Jack's memories, somewhat idealised, reveal how spaces, especially those left without a structured design, are far more important that first appear. However, I would argue that rather than elevate these everyday spaces and try to break down the divide between the significant and the insignificant, it is far more important to appreciate the differences and accept them. Without the extraordinary, you cannot appreciate the ordinary, without the bespoke modernist houses designed from under the wing of Corbusier, it is hard to open a discussion about the difference between Architecture [the bespoke] and architecture [everything else]. As Malick has shown, architecture is messy but full of vitality, however there is still the need for those places of obvious unity, Architecture. A study of the everydayness in this film in particular reveals the importance of daily lives to memories, the people and the spaces become essential to remembering and highlight the influence of the everydayness in growing up.