Cate Blanchett in Manifesto
Guest contributor Taylor Zartman muses on Julian Rosefeldt’s film Manifesto and what it has to say about the possibilities of art and the complexities of doctrine.
In 1942, Marcel Duchamp fired five shots into the foundation of Kurt Seligmann’s barn as Andre Breton looked on. Duchamp declared those shots the conception of the First Papers of Surrealism. A photograph of the damage the shots left behind was featured as the interior cover of the publication.
First Papers of Surrealism cover page, 1942
Manifesto, Julian Rosefeldt’s 2015 film, opens with a fuse burning. The bulk of this prologue is spent with Tzara’s Dada Manifesto, which lays the foundation for what the viewer is about to experience. Or should I say, it discharges a bullet into the foundation of what the viewer is about to experience. Cate Blanchett calmly reads Tzara’s words over the flame. She/Tzara states that to put out a manifesto, one must want to declare and disseminate that declaration. Just as readily, it is stated, “I am against action. I am for continuous contradiction, for affirmation too… and I do not explain because I hate common sense… How can one expect to put order into the chaos that constitutes that infinite and shapeless variation: man?” The film delivers on these declarations. What follows is not order; it is exploration and contradiction and sumptuousness and bombast. And I mean bombast quite literally. The fuse transitions into a firework. A group of old women playing with firecrackers giggle as they declare, “This is so much fun,” asking each other, “Want to do it again?”
Immediately following, we meet a homeless man — the first of 12 characters Blanchett embodies throughout the film. With each new character, each new school of thought, each with their own collaged manifesto, you can almost feel Rosefeldt ask, “Want to do it again? This is so much fun.”
Manifesto originated in 2015 as a 13-channel film installation. Large screens filled massive gallery spaces, 12 of them looping a different character of Blanchett’s with the remaining one playing the endlessly burning fuse of the prologue. The effect of the original installation is one of simultaneity — each channel competing for attention. A visitor cannot watch and listen to one screen without seeing and hearing another in their periphery. Each channel features a different character paired with a creative and/or political school of thought. The manifestos they offer are collaged from many writings within the movement(s) they represent. Stridentism and Creationism are the ramblings of a strung-out punk. Six different Dadaists are quoted in a eulogy. The words of Sol LeWitt, Sturtevant, and Adrian Piper are a news report.
Manifesto Installation view at Park Avenue Amory, New York, December 2016-January 2017 (photo by James Ewing Photography)
To adapt this installation into a film, Rosefeldt attempts to recreate that simultaneity by interweaving each channel. Instead of a space where one could guide their own path through the manifestos, the viewer is at the mercy of the manifestos’ constancy. As each new character appears, a new ethos is woven into the fabric of the film, each with a new proclamation and contradiction. Even in a more standard film format, the impact of overwhelm remains.
This film is a manifesto of and on manifestos. A homage, for sure, but also a challenge. The work is described on Rosefeldt’s website as “ultimately questioning the role of the artist in society today.” Rosefeldt forces us to reconsider the manifesto by recontextualizing it. Many of these texts are over a century old and nearly all of them were originally written by men. Yet here is a woman (though not always performing as a woman) delivering their message. And the characters that present these manifestos are familiar to us: a mother who insists on praying before a meal, an industrial worker, an elementary school teacher. But by repackaging these writings into this mode of delivery, both archetype and manifesto are made strange.
There is revelation in the contradictions crafted by Rosefeldt. “Serious play” is the exciting and productive intersection of serious subjects with playful methods. Yes, there is something inherently fiery and explosive about a manifesto, but in their declarative, impassioned absoluteness, there is also something ridiculous. Seemingly, most manifestos are aware of this. And Rosefeldt has captured that. Throughout the film, Blanchett’s characters proclaim their declarations in eulogies, prayers, theatrical feedback, elementary school lesson plans, etc. And everyone else stands quietly, patiently waiting for it to end. Or perhaps they are waiting for their turn to monologue.
With grandeur comes silliness. With silliness comes freedom. And possibility is found there. A manifesto considers what is possible. The question of “What is art?” may be a tired one, but a manifesto thrills us by asking, even demanding, “What can art be?”
BANG. This is so much fun. Want to do it again?
Manifesto will be screened at IU Cinema on October 8 at 1pm as part of the Art and a Movie series. A pre-screening gallery talk, “Manifestos in Focus,” will take place at the Eskenazi Museum of Art at 12pm. This talk is free, but registration is required as space is limited. Register here.
Taylor Zartman (no pronoun preference, they/she/he) is a current dual master’s student of Art History and Library Science at IU. Their scholarly focus is on modern and contemporary art, often concentrating on Dada and Surrealism with broader interests in conceptual art, performance, the use of games/chance, and the absurd. As an artist, they craft interactive performances utilizing chance and lead The Blunderbuss Cabinet, a local art space and community.