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wrentumbles · 2 years

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Science Fiction – the most personal genre

(Hi i haven’t edited this yet but i had to catch a deadline)

In 1968, riding on a wave of successful, well received films, director Stanley Kubrick decided to work with science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke and adapt his short story “The Sentinel” into a feature length film. The film, released as 2001: A Space Odyssey, adopts an unusual 4 act structure, with changing protagonists and thematic links between acts. Released to negative reviews, A Space Odyssey is the first to attempt something no other science fiction film had tried before, and pioneered the idea of a realistic sci-fi. Everything from the movie’s visual style and design, to the editing and pacing works to instill in the viewer the central idea of technology as a sophisticated, completely symmetrical marvel. The film opens on the pure blackness of space, and the first minutes are dedicated to the complex maneuvers and docking procedures of elegant, futuristic space-ships as they dance to Strauss’ “Also sprach Zarathustra”. This is enough to tell us that this isn’t a film about people interacting with technology – it’s about technology interacting with people. The smooth, impenetrable surfaces of the spaceship interiors, the glossy, reflective surface of the monoliths refuse interpretation, and inspire awe and marvel – which, according to an interview with Clarke, was Kubrick’s goal for the film.

Throughout its 140-minute runtime, the film refuses to have a single interesting, or insightful conversation between people – its poetic that its most interesting character is, in fact, the ai supercomputer HAL. All that is because “2001: A Space Odyssey” isn’t interested in people – it is interested in the technology they have created, and the technology that has brought them into space – it seems the only people uninterested in that technology, or the fact that they are travelling millions of miles from home in a space-vessel are the movie’s characters.

“The Martian”, released in 2015, is a film adaptation of the novel of the same name. Directed by Ridley Scott, the film follows astronaut Mark Watney after he is stranded on Mars as he tries to find a way to return home. From the get-go, the film reads as a polar opposite of “2001: A Space Odyssey” – its interest in its own characters is immense, and is only supported by Scott’s unusual choice of cinematography, utilizing techniques such as first-person shots and vlog-style first person narration in which the protagonist talks directly to the camera. Every care has been taken to make the film look and feel authentic, undirected. In an interview with Scott, he describes using the enthusiast extreme sports camera GoPro religiously throughout the shooting process, alongside standard filmmaking equipment. Kubrick’s long cuts, symmetrical, immaterial design, and long silences are replaced by scrappy, intensely personal camerawork, scrappy, duct-taped-together space-ships and habitats, and Watney’s millennial humor. “The Martian” believes that nothing is sacred, perhaps outside of human life, and it makes sure to deliver that theme on every front.

“The Martian” ’s primary theme is that of connection, and people’s innate desire to care about one another. Even when 200 million miles away, Mark’s first instinct after ensuring he has food and water to sustain himself is to reach out, to attempt to talk to Earth. When he talks with Earth, his conversations, much like those in Kubrick’s film, appear mundane, but in that mundanity, we see humanity’s true purpose – connection. Every piece of technology in the film, none less designed and though-through than the ones in Kubrick’s works, serves a singular, clear purpose – to get Watney home. By the end of the film, what began life as a smooth, symmetrical space-habitat, has been torn apart, abused, and covered in duct tape – gone is Kubrick’s respect and ideation of technology, and it has been replaced by something much more interesting – people.

To examine where this tendency comes from, it is useful to examine both works’ origins, as well as the socio-cultural background they were made in.

“2001: A Space Odyssey” began life as a short story titled “The Sentinel”, written by Clarke in 1951, and released to an overwhelmingly positive reception. The 50s and 60s marked the start of the public’s obsession with space travel, and, following WWII’s atrocities, they were filled with optimism for a brighter future, one in which we conquer Mars and travel between planets in the blink of an eye. In an increasingly-refuted quote, Joseph Kittinger – an air-force pilot and astronaut who, in 1960, jumped from the edge of space, summarized the cultural tendencies of the time perfectly. While descending his space-suit experiences a rupture in his right arm, and, as the pressure begins to escape and his arm swells to an excruciating 200% of its size, he conveys to ground control “Man will never conquer space. He may live in it, but he will never conquer it. The sky above is void and very black and very hostile” . Despite that, he completes the jump, and lives on to witness humanity ignore his warning time and time again. With “The Sentinel”, and later, with 2001, Clarke and Kubrick set out to create a work of science fiction that was much more grounded than its contemporaries, and, conversely, one that covers a much grander scope because of its realism – they wanted to explore and question humanity’s relationship with technology, as well as answer the question of what comes after. Kittinger’s warning could not stop humanity of dreaming – and we still dream to this day. In spite of Clarke and Kubrick’s thematic ambitions, and the film’s thematic idea of humanity transcending technology (David having to shut down HAL in order to reach his goal), their work reflected the time it was made in, and couldn’t help but be obsessed with the technological marvels that would, a year later, bring us to the moon. In its commitment to realism, “2001: A Space Odyssey” ended up leaving behind its humanity. Its characters feel flat and uninteresting, and, more importantly, uninterested in the world around them. In a particularly scalding review in the New Yorker, Renata Adler wrote: “[the film is] so completely absorbed in its own problems – its use of colour and space, its fanatical devotion to science-fiction detail – that it’s somewhere between hypnotic and immensely boring” . As a quality of the film, this became both its primary criticism, and the source of much of its appeal.

“The Martian” began life as a serialized web story by computer engineer Andy Weir, whose life-long interest in space travel began after watching films like “2001: A Space Odyssey” as a kid. The novel’s format, with a there being anywhere from a couple weeks to a month between chapters, allowed Weir to receive immediate feedback on the story’s science, technology, and story, leading to a novel that had been proof read over and over by hundreds of people before it even got published. This crowd-sourcing of proof-reading allowed Weir to create a novel that is, by all standards, one of the most thoroughly – researched and scientifically accurate pieces of science fiction, while retaining its fun characters and gripping plot. The novel’s cultural background supports this – following an explosion in the private space sector (for better or worse), the public’s interest in space exploration and travel is as high as ever, and the increasing possibility of a human one-day walking on Mars feels almost inevitable with every SpaceX launch. This has coincided with a massive increase in the transparency of the space-travel companies and organizations – Weir cites astronaut documentaries and interviews as a primary source for many of the novel’s details of life in space.

“The Martian” is present day’s answer to the questions “2001: A Space Odyssey” asks. With our expanded knowledge and our idealistic view of space having been replaced by a much more realistic one, humanity has proven Kittinger right, and “The Martian” takes every chance to express that. It is, in a lot of ways, a thematic continuation of 2001, and a refute of its core ideas – technology isn’t what causes humanity’s divide – it is a tool that, when used properly, helps repair it. And space? It is a truly horrifying place. Standing in opposition to science-fiction tendencies, Scott’s film reminds us that space is not, in fact, cool and groovy – and that everything we need is right here. Mark, despite being stranded in the maybe coolest place for someone to be stranded in, never seems in awe of it. In fact, there is very little “marvel, awe, and, if appropriate, terror” in the film. The utilitarian, vlog-like camera direction keeps the viewer grounded in a place which, if shot by Kubrick, would probably have been dedicated at least 20% of the movie’s runtime and accompanied by (probably) Bach or some other deaf, long dead composer’s symphonic suite. Perhaps the only time the movie allows itself to be dreamy and symmetrical, comes towards the end of its runtime. After Watney has managed to escape Mars’ gravity, and is speeding towards his crewmate’s arms, ready to be brought back home, the film takes a second, and allows their tether to gently, symphonically, spool around the two of them, as they hold each other and smile. In a heart-stopping second, we are brought back to 2001’s opening shots, and the slow, symmetrical dance of the tether around the astronauts stands to inspire the same effect Kubrick’s has – with one crucial difference. These isn’t the graceful, mechanical dance of futuristic space-ships – these are two people who have traversed millions of miles and shed countless hours of effort in order to see each other again. And there it is. Connection.

In his 2013 Journal article in Science Fiction Studies, in relation to the function of science-fiction as a genre, science fiction author Liu Cixin writes: “some people want to experience more than [earth]. They do not want their minds to be limited solely to this cosmic speck of dust and so are doing all they can to transcend this narcissism.” I argue that it is through science fiction that we are able see ourselves most clearly. To limit the genre to simple escapist fantasies of faraway space travel, to give ourselves into the illusion that space is the next frontier, that there even is a next frontier, is to deprive ourselves of what is already around us – other people. Through science fiction, we are able to see what other worlds lay beyond, and in seeing, we can know that all we need is already there. It is only in the imaginary cabin of a spaceship, millions of miles away, that we are truly able to see humanity, as a whole. Despite 2001’s commitment to materialist technology, its supposed disinterest in humanity, there is a moment, a small one, in which it allows itself to be human. In the moments during David’s flight through space and time, the camera keeps cutting back to his face. Why? Because he is human, and in the end, despite the instant appeal of galaxies far away, we know what truly matters.

Bibliography

Krekeler, Eliza. “See the Light: An Electronic Happening.” The English Journal, vol. 65, no. 3, 1976, pp. 57–59, https://doi.org/10.2307/814838. Accessed 8 Apr. 2022.

Dr. Titus, Aaron. “Finding Physics in ‘The Martian’” High Point University Press, 2010 https://www.highpoint.edu/blog/2015/10/mars-exploring-the-planet-and-the-pop-culture-perspective/

Ebert, Roger. "2001: A Space Odyssey Movie Review (1968) | Roger Ebert". Rogerebert.Com, 1997, https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-2001-a-space-odyssey-1968.

"The Martian: A Science Movie Review.". 2015. AIP Publishing, https://doi.org/10.1063/pt.5.9047. Accessed 8 Apr 2022.

KITTINGER, CAPT. JOSEPH. "Inside The Original Space Dive: Joseph Kittinger On 1960 Record Jump". Science, 2012, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/121008-joseph-kittinger-felix-baumgartner-skydive-science.

Adler, Renata. "'2001' Is Up, Up And Away". Archive.Nytimes.Com, 1968, https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/library/film/040468kubrick-2001.html.

Liu Cixin, et al. “Beyond Narcissism: What Science Fiction Can Offer Literature.” Science Fiction Studies, vol. 40, no. 1, 2013, pp. 22–32, https://doi.org/10.5621/sciefictstud.40.1.0022. Accessed 8 Apr. 2022.

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wrentumbles · 3 years

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Francois Truffaut and the politics of art

Introduction

“A Certain Tendency of French Cinema" was a 1954 essay by Francois Truffaut. It was published in the right-wing film magazine Cahiers du Cinema and constituted an attack on the “tradition of quality” established in French cinema – the mainstream, commercial films released every year. In his essay, Truffaut argues that French cinema has become too stale, and that films have become too commercialized, too “trendy”. Instead of creating unique, personal works following their own creative vision, directors were being reduced to the metteur-en-scene - “the person who adds pretty pictures to it”[1].

In his essay Truffaut attacks Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bost, along with a number of other French directors and screenwriters for being too commercial, and for merely rendering literary classics. “film should no longer render pre-existing written texts, whether in the form of a script or a source novel; rather, the shooting process itself should be a form of action-writing performed through mise-en-scène.”[2] He lambasts them for creating film adaptations which please the masses by inserting anti-bourgeois, anti-militant, and anti-clerical themes into their films without a personal touch to them. “No social or political views, those dreaded “messages,” are to mar the purity of art. Art must be free of all outside influences.”[3] In this essay I will examine Truffaut’s ideas on art, what it means for art to have a message, and the impact of “A Certain Tendency of French Cinema”.

Part 1: Truffaut and the politics of aesthetics

Following his essay, Truffaut decided to take on a directorial role, and usher in the French new wave he dreamed of.

With “The 400 blows”, Truffaut had the opportunity to put everything he believed in into practice – from writing, directing, and editing the film as its auteur, to filming on a relatively small budget, with few sets and a small number of actors. Within the film we can truly see Truffaut’s dreamlike vision of what film can be – a truly personal expression of one’s experience with the world - “truth, 24 frames per second”[4]. “On a larger scale, we can see the film as Truffaut’s poetic mark on the wall, or his attempt to even the score.”[5] Basing the story on Truffaut’s own experiences growing up, the film follows Antoine, a rebellious teenager who struggles to fit into his community, his family, and society as a whole. It examines what it means to be free and the question of responsibility in society.

As a result of Truffaut’s aesthetic decisions, the film feels intensely personal and genuine – the camera cuts rarely and stays with the protagonist for almost uncomfortable stretches of time, grounding the audience in his world. The film is shot on location rather than the standard of shooting on constructed sets and sound stages, giving it a more “authentic” look. The locations, although real, always match the mood of the scene, which is no better illustrated by the ending scene on the beach, which is empty, but also full of possibility. Following a 2-minute uninterrupted tracking shot of Antoine running through crowded spaces, we are finally ushered onto an open, empty beach. Antoine runs into the water, and his footprints are erased by the waves, signifying his adolescence being over. As the protagonist stares into the camera with an empty expression, the movie comes to a close.

The ending is left intentionally ambiguous, and so are the movie’s themes. Ideas of personal and societal responsibility are thrown into the air, but left with no answer, as would become standard for New Wave Cinema, for to be on the right-bank means to make films “should be able to exist for its own sake, or in fact only to express the truth”[6].

That leaves us with several questions, namely “which is more important? A socially progressive film? Or an aesthetically progressive one?”[6] In the end, Truffaut has no answer. “Most obviously, Truffaut rejects any “audacity” which has to do with the world outside the film or with the specific content of the film. The presentation of a homosexual relationship or a character’s rejection of the church Truffaut finds phony, uninteresting, and not the proper subject of the cinema”[3]. With “The 400 Blows”, Truffaut, if inadvertently makes a statement about personal responsibility - society’s mechanisms for dealing with people who don’t fit in might be broken, but that is just how things are meant to be. And for him that is enough. Because Antoine doesn’t believe in anything but freedom, and neither does Truffaut.

Part 2: Is freedom enough, and leaving Truffaut behind

Jean-Luc Godard was a film director for the latter half of the 20th century, and one of the pioneers of the French New Wave. He, along with his friends from “Cahiers du Cinema” revolutionised film. His contributions to the development of the jump-cut, along with his naturalistic approach to dialogue, have been massively influential to film as a whole. Only when examining his filmography, however, do we see his biggest influence on the medium. Godart wanted to give film a purpose, to make films with a desire bigger than freedom - change.

We can most clearly see this when comparing two of his films - “Breathless” and “La Chinoise”. In “Breathless”, released in 1960, Godart tells the story of the young gangster Michel falling in love with Patricia, an American student. The film is an examination of identity, happiness, and purpose, with Patricia being pulled into Michel’s turbulent life by accident, but deciding to leave it by betraying him.

Godart chose to shoot the entirety of the film in handheld, with mostly natural light in order to make the film feel noninvasive, while bringing the audience ever closer to the characters, and establishing the now-popular documentary style of filmmaking. Although originally written by Truffaut, the script was rewritten and made up on the spot as Godart fed the actors lines, which is why all of the film’s audio is dubbed [7]. The cinematography of the film perfectly mirrors Patricia’s indecisiveness, with many shots tracking her left, only to reverse and track her in the opposite direction. Godart’s use of shot-reverse-shot is a standout in the film, and its use, along with purposeful, jarring jump cuts is essential to the film’s narrative.

As Patricia betrays Michel, he tries to escape and is shot by police and dies shortly after. The film leaves the viewer with a similar feeling as “The 400 Blows” - one of uncertainty, emptiness. Our protagonist has found an identity, but their future, much like the film itself, is uncertain, non-committal.

“La Chinoise” is Godart’s 1967 adaptation of Dostoyevski’s Demons. It follows 5 university students as they discuss revolution, and decide to assassinate the Soviet Minister of Culture when he visits Paris. They end up killing the wrong man, and one of them – the emotionally unstable Kirilov, commits suicide. Aesthetically, the film is bright, saturated, and chaotic, and its fast pace reflects the revolutionary spark the characters have. Godart’s direction is also beautifully acted: “We’re invited to wonder about the authenticity of these characters we see onscreen: Is their lack of artifice, and the performers’ lack of actor-ly affect, a sign that they are merely mouthpieces, or does it actually speak to their sincerity?”[8]. By questioning the authenticity of the bourgeois revolutionaries, the film asks the viewer to consider revolution within the context of their own time, to step out of the artificial front of enacting revolution on a global scale and focus on real-world problems around them.

As an adaptation, it redefines the original novel’s political message, themes, and characters, and re-contextualises its setting in order to create a new original: “the auratic prestige of the original does not run counter to the copy; rather the copy creates the prestige of the original. A film adaptation as “copy,” by analogy, is not necessarily inferior to the novel as “original”; indeed, it can itself become the “original” which generates subsequent ‘copies.’”[9] With “La Chinoise” Godart commits to an idea. He finally has something to say.

At the heart of “A Certain Tendency of French Cinema” lies a contradiction – Truffaut wants cinema to be art, to be more than shot for shot adaptations of literary classics, but at the same time refuses to let it have something to say. He wants an aesthetic revolution, but not a political one. With the maturity of the French New Wave, the movement could no longer afford to ignore political conflict happening around it. The French New Wave saw a “shift away from auteurist, genre, and formalist theories to theories borrowed from social, political, economic, and psychological fields. […] there was a need to look beyond surface realism to the political-economic.” [10]. Godard became a part of that shift as “it became increasingly hard for him to ignore that in contemporary France, to be right-wing meant more than just prioritising aesthetics over content”[6].

Both “Breathless”, and “La Chinoise” would likely not have been made had it not been for Truffaut’s 1954 essay. Within both films we see Truffaut meant when he imagined the role of the auteur – bold, inspired art that “exposes the truth” and pushes the medium further. In “La Chinoise”, however, we see something more – we see a film that has left Truffaut behind.

Part 3: Hayao Miyazaki - revolution, commodified

Hayao Miyazaki’s 2004 film “Howl’s moving castle” is arguably the culmination of his career, with overwhelming critical and commercial success. What is interesting about it, however, is that it wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be a rebellion.

“Howl’s moving castle”, adapted from the book by the same name is a stunning, thematically heavy meditation on the perils of war, nihilism, and the power of love. The themes, which Miyazaki builds on for his entire career, are only amplified within the context of his other works. As an adaptation the film works to redefine the original - decisions which are merely aesthetic in the book become visual metaphors for the film’s themes. Miyazaki transforms the story of the book into a condemnation of the Iraq war and of war in general. Characters come to symbolise their world-views, and are adapted into clearer, more distinct versions of themselves. From the Castle’s disjointed, mechanical nature, to the overwhelming shots of the army marching through the streets, to the softly shaded scenes of nature, only to be contrasted with the chiaroscuro-like scenes of war with bombs, explosions, and fires, the film uses its aesthetics in a distinctly personal way. The depiction of war is harrowing, and is only possible because of the film’s animated nature. Here, the anti-war themes are the point – the aesthetics of the film serve a purpose.

When making the film, Miyazaki expected it to fail in the US. Just a year prior, he had refused to accept his Oscar, stating that “The reason I wasn’t here for the Academy Award was because I didn’t want to visit a country that was bombing Iraq.”[11] Miyazaki’s rebellion became nothing more than a commodity. The film’s clear anti-war message didn’t impact its reception, nor commercial success - something we would see happen time and time again over the next decade. Directors like Wes Anderson, Taika Waititi, and Bong Joon-ho, along with their signature styles of film-making have become brands in themselves. Films with a unique, authorial style, rebellious political themes, as well as the auteurs themselves have become the new status-quo. They have been commodified.

Conclusion – the impact of “a certain tendency in french cinema” and the new normal

Truffaut’s 1954 essay, while, at its core reactionary, has shaped film as a medium into what we know it today. Film no longer simply “renders pre-existing texts”, and is now an art form that stands equal to literature. Not only that, but films with wide, far reaching political ideas have become standard. His essay paved the way for independent cinema, and allowed the genre to move past the then-standard constructed sets and artificial lighting. Directors now commonly write their own movies, and the “camera-pen” is now standard practice. Truffaut’s work shaped an entire generation of film-makers, and its ideas are still present today, with indie cinema being more popular than ever [12]. Looking at the French New Wave in hindsight, it looks almost small. Film has come a long way since then, and has left Truffaut far behind. We have moved past Truffaut’s rebellion - it has become the new normal.

bibliography and footnotes

The 400 Blows. 1959. [film] Directed by F. Truffaut. France: Les Films du Carrosse.

Breathless. 1961. [film] Directed by J. Godard. France: Imperia, Les Films Georges de Beauregard.

La Chinoise. 1967. [film] Directed by J. Godard. France: Les Productions de la Guéville.

Howl’s Moving Castle. 2004. [film] Directed by H. Miyazaki. Japan: Studio Ghibli.

Truffaut, F. (1954). A Certain Tendency of French Cinema. Cahiers du Cinema

Hess, J. (1974). La politique des auteurs, 2: Truffaut’s manifesto. Jump Cut, no. 2, pp. 20-22.

Bazin, A. (1957). La politique des auteurs. Cahiers du Cinema no. 70

Neupert, R. (2002). A History of the French New Wave Cinema . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press

Astruc, A. (1948). The Birth of a New Avant-Garde: La Camera-Stylo. L'Ecran Françoise

Levy, E., 1999. Cinema of outsiders. New York: New York University Press.

Hernández-Pérez, M. (2016) ‘Animation, Branding and Authorship in the Construction of the ‘Anti-Disney’ Ethos: Hayao Miyazaki’s Works and Persona through Disney Film Criticism’, Animation, 11(3), pp. 297–313

Boas, G. (1947). “The Social Responsibility of the Artist.” College Art Journal, vol. 6, no. 4, 1947, pp. 270–276.

Yonemura, M. (2020). Hayao Miyazaki and Adaptation: Themes of War and Aging in “Howl’s Moving Castle. University of British Columbia, Centre for Japanese Research

Swale, A. (2015). Miyazaki Hayao and the Aesthetics of Imagination: Nostalgia and Memory in Spirited Away. Asian Studies Review. 39.

Smith, L. (2013). War, Wizards, and Words: Transformative Adaptation and Transformed Meanings in Howl’s Moving Castle. Jibon. Available at: https://littledevil1919.wordpress.com/2013/06/27/j-anime-ghibli-war-wizards-and-words-transformative-adaptation-and-transformed-meanings-in-howls-moving-castle/

Hansen, K. (2010). Physical Metamorphosis in Howl’s Moving Castle. Film110, Westminster College Press

[1] Truffaut, F. (1954). A Certain Tendency of French Cinema. Cahiers du Cinema. Available at: http://www.newwavefilm.com/about/a-certain-tendency-of-french-cinema-truffaut.shtml

[2] Stam, R. (2006). Adaptation and the French New Wave: A Study in Ambivalence. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Available at: https://www.holycross.edu/sites/default/files/files/english/geracht/interfaces/adaptation.pdf

[3] Hess, J. (1974). La politique des auteurs, 2: Truffaut’s manifesto. Jump Cut, no. 2, pp. 20-22. Available at: https://www.ejumpcut.org/archive/onlinessays/JC02folder/auteur2.html

[4] Le Petit Soldat. 1963. [film] Directed by J. Godart. France: Les Productions Georges de Beauregard.

[5] Insdorf, A., 2021. The 400 Blows: Close to Home. The Criterion Collection. Available at: https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/528-the-400-blows-close-to-home

[6] McNett, A. (2009). The Politics of The French New Wave. New Wave Film. Available at: http://www.newwavefilm.com/about/french-new-wave-politics.shtml

[7] Solomons, J., 2010. Breathless: ‘Jean-Luc Godard would just turn up scribble some dialogue and we would rehearse maybe a couple of times’. the Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2010/jun/06/raoul-coutard-jean-luc-godard-breathless

[8]Ebiri, B., 2017. “La Chinoise” and the Re-education of Jean-Luc Godard . The Village Voice. Available at: https://www.villagevoice.com/2017/07/20/la-chinoise-and-the-re-education-of-jean-luc-godard

[9] Stam, R. (2006). Adaptation and the French New Wave: A Study in Ambivalence. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Available at: https://www.holycross.edu/sites/default/files/files/english/geracht/interfaces/adaptation.pdf

[10] Totaro, D. (1998). May 1968 and After: Cinema in France and Beyond, part 1. Off Screen vol. 2, Issue 2. Available at: https://offscreen.com/view/may_1968

[11] MacInnes, D. (2009). Miyazaki’s Opposition to the Iraq War. Ghibli Blog. Available at: http://ghiblicon.blogspot.com/2009/07/miyazakis-opposition-to-iraq-war.html

[12] Levy, E., 1999. Cinema of outsiders. New York: New York University Press.

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