Watching Environmental Films Doesn't Make You An Activist

Among history’s best records of our planet and human civilization, of the textbooks, scientific journals, political and cultural documents – even the decaying ruins of ancient cities – the cinema stands as one of our most significant self-reflections. The cinema, as any art form, has the power to record the spirit of an age, but with the clarity of a mirror. Only the performing arts share cinema’s direct and encompassing representation of culture, though the cinema is as archive-able as our oldest texts. Dudley Andrew, author of “Cinema & Culture,” states in clearly, that, “a cultural history of cinema must reconstruct the temper of the times, neither through the direct appreciation of its products nor through the direct amassing of ‘relevant facts,’ but through an indirect reconstruction of the conditions of representation that permitted such films to be made, to be understood, even to be misunderstood, controversial, or trivial. More than this, as certain key films attest, the movies create as well as display a culture's imagination” (Andrew). What’s more, film and video are accessible to the ordinary civilian, yielding an even more extensive documentation of culture, society and civilization via varied perspectives. It then goes without saying that, in analyzing the environmental movement as a recent cultural development, filmic representation of the natural world is revealing historical documentation.

Filmic visions of our planet record not only contemporary issues, but also our social reactions and concerns. These visions are sometimes distributed as entertainment in the form of popular movies or television shows, but also as scientific, educational or politically motivated arguments, and it would seem that these separate intentions are at opposite sides of an environmental debate: that an environmentally themed film should necessarily transcend the purpose of passive entertainment if it’s to be effective in making some kind of change. In other words, why gander at natural images without recognizing their impermanence? The market has developed several solutions to this question, resulting in the formation of many sub-genre categories of the “environmental film,” each with its own intended audience. These sub-genres depend on specific demographics and yield respectively varied effects on the social consideration of environmental ideas. These different methods of communicating with an audience ultimately reflect a specific time in environmental consciousness that focuses on the individual spectator, rather than one unified ideology of the movement.

Since we’re talking about environmental issues, it’s important to highlight a few key moments of the movement. While discourse on the environment finds its roots in the 19th century, the popular environmental movement began in the 1960s, largely thanks to Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring, which gave a social critique of pollution in our environment. Both organizations Greenpeace and Friends of our Environment took flight in 1971, and then in 1972 began the first of the United Nation’s 10-yearly Earth Summits. Awareness increased throughout the 70s, and 1983 saw the United Nations General Assembly created UN World Commission on Environment and Development. Global warming became hot topic in the 1990s, and since then the debate has only gotten larger (Reynolds). Over the last few decades environmentalism has picked up speed, and its increasing popularity is evident in cinema. In these years that environmentalism gained popularity, its issues became increasingly visible in film and video, and today films with environmental images are quite popular at the movie theaters.

In its early stages, environmentalism was widely regarded as liberal nonsense, though it has since gained recognition as a global concern, further increasing the presence of environmental issues in popular discourse and ultimately resulting in the emergence of the mentioned sub-genre categories of the environmental film. In fact, if the ordinary civilian were asked to identify “sub-genre categories” of the environmental film, they’d have no idea what they were being asked. Still, when identified, most movie-goers might understand the distinction between, say, the nature documentary “March of the Penguins,” and the animated children’s movie, “Happy Feet.” Both of these films convey environmentally driven messages, though they appeal to different (overlapping) audiences: one is designed for people of all ages - the average movie-watcher, intrigued by the fantasy of remote lands, cute animals, and warm-hearted narration, and the other, in the case of “Happy Feet,” simply for children and their parents. Beyond Hollywood exists even more classifications of environmental cinema, kinds of special-interest films ranging from low-budget independent documentaries, the avant-garde film, or even local-issue documentaries focused on making some kind of impact within a smaller community. For the sake of argument we’ll lump these types of films into two generalized, but contained categorizations, the first of which I’ll describe as the large-audience environmental film.

Naturally, the large-audience environmental film is more familiar than the smaller, and for good (business) reasons! There shouldn’t be a need to point out that Hollywood is an industry dependent on creating and responding to social trends, but that’s the nature of the beast: that a marketing strategy strives to be invisible. Derek Bouse, author of Wildlife Films, points out that, “How film and television depict the natural world often has far less to do with science or real outdoor experience than with media economics, established production practices, viewers’ expectations, and the ways each of these influences the others” (Bouse 1). Films within the industry rely on critical success, word of mouth, and lasting reputation. Then, any large-audience environmental film by default seeks some common denominator that connects most powerfully with the largest variety of people. These films are subject to the game of weighing costs and profits, and it’s a tough industry. If money is the lifeblood of these films, how can we be sure they’re actually even working towards improving environmental conditions?

No matter the message of a film, the intentions of major studios seem about as “green” as a dollar bill. Still, it could be said that, if nothing else, these films garner a greater appreciation for the environment and a more global awareness of environmental ideas. It is true that any kind of public representation, regardless of studio intentions, at the very least keeps environmental issues contemporary. If it’s entertainment, people won’t ignore it, and if people won’t ignore it, it’s entertainment! So, obviously, increasing awareness is better than not, but some argue that Hollywood environmental films don’t encourage enough participation.

The argument against Hollywood nature films as activism demands that sitting in a theater, or on your couch, or in your computer chair, no matter how much “awareness” these films garner, ultimately fails in compelling people to action. Marketing is the adversary of integrity. For instance, take New Line Cinema’s owl movie, Hoot, which tells the story of a group of kids that stand up against a construction development that threatens a population of endangered owls. New Line partnered with the National Wildlife Federation in promoting the movie, releasing this statement: “In an effort to build awareness for the needs of wildlife and engage families in a fun and interactive activity, New Line Cinema has created a program where consumers can download a HOOT DESKTOP PET, which helps fund the National Wildlife Federation's efforts to protect owls and other wildlife and habitat around the country” ("New Line Cinema Encourages Audience Environmentalism..." ). The movie sends a great message: kids - you can stand up to industry and save the environment. The marketing strategy, however, convinces those kids to sit at home on a computer and pretend they’re making a difference by playing with some digital avatar. Sure, the program raises money for the National Wildlife Federation, but that’s a great way of saying, “Someone else will worry about it so that all you have to do is just stay home, buy our products and feel influential.”

Authors Bouse and Gregg Mitman describe why these large-audience nature films appeal to the contemporary viewer, attributing their appeal to an ability to relate with the audience, and a public voyeurism for remote landscapes. Bouse claims that, “in wildlife films it is nearly always story that matters most” (Bouse 36), and continues to describe how these films create familiar narratives, often based around the idea of the family. Mitman takes the explanation further by asserting that, “Whether crafted to elicit thrills or to preserve and educate audiences about the real-life drama of threatened wildlife, nature films then and now reveal much about the yearnings of Americans to both be close to nature and yet distinctly apart,” (Mitman 4). We love to watch nature because we can relate with it, and at the same time we’re thrilled with its mysteries.

However, on the other hand of the debate about environmental cinema, the small-audience environmental film has different motivations. The success of these videos doesn’t rely on marketing or profits, so we can more easily assume their intentions are genuine. Instead, the small-audience environmental video focuses on the advancement of some specific or local cause. Austra, a member of Arts Engine (an organization promoting “independent media of consequence”), states it well, that, “This kind of media isn’t trying to sell you anything other than a voice in the debate about the future of the planet” (Austra). With money out of the picture, the effect of environmental images is measurable, and even tangible.

The small-environmental video has proven itself as an influential medium that has the power to compel people into action. Austra also demonstrates how these videos reach people:

The international environmental organization Greenpeace, for instance, has achieved a good deal of notoriety and success over the past 20 years sending camera crews around the globe -- into the middle of the ocean filming whale hunts, to the bottom of the world documenting pollution in Antarctica, and underneath the sea capturing the murderous impact of driftnets. The power of these images has been essential in moving the public to call for an end to commercial whaling, international protection for Antarctica, and a U.N. ban on driftnet fishing. (Austra)

Needless to say, Greenpeace is non-profit organization, so these documentations aren’t necessarily for the purpose of entertainment, but politics - not just about awareness, but also action. Austra goes on to describe several instances in which small-audience environmental films have solved specific issues. In one example, an everyday citizen documented trucks carrying garbage to landfills in the Midwest and then returning to the East Coast with food bound for supermarkets. Her story appeared on several important news shows on primetime television, and the woman explained that, “In dealing with the news media, just a small amount of footage can say a lot. Without the video, I don’t think our message would have gotten out” (Austra). Her civilian footage convinced state officials to pass legislation regulating out-of-state waste, demonstrating the true power of environmental video.

The crux of this debate relies on whether or not environmental film or video has the necessary responsibility to elicit more than awareness. The Cinema is traditionally a place of entertainment before politics, and so I think it’s naïve to demand that popular movies adhere to such a social responsibility. Still, ethics can’t be ignored. The industrial revolution made clear that we have a very delicate relationship with the earth, and in recent decades the environmental movement has become increasingly prominent. The frequent presence of natural images in these mediums evidences our contemporary concerns. Ultimately, Hollywood’s passive use of these images abuses the importance of these issues. In other words, the intentions of large-audience environmental film negate social principal, and in such an ethical argument this kind of film serves little to no purpose other than describing the human race as lazy, hypocritical and apathetic. After all, the Cinema is a symbol of escapism. At the end of the day, it’s up to the individual spectator to decide what to do with their environmental consciousness.

Works Cited

"New Line Cinema Encourages Audience Environmentalism...." The Big Screen Cinema Guide 28 03 2006 1. 17 Feb 2009 .

Andrew, Dudley. "Cinema & Culture." Humanities Vol. 6 No. 4(1985) 18 Feb 2009 .

Austra. "Do Environmental Films Help the Environment?." MediaRights 07 09 2001 1. 20 Feb 2009 .

Derek Bousé. Wildlife Films. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000.

Gregg Mitman. Reel Nature: America’s Romance with Wildlife on Film. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999.

Reynolds, Andy. "A Brief History of Environmentalism." Channel 4 (2002) 18 Feb 2009 .

Earth for the Apprehensive

Regardless of the fact that it was a horrible film, Shyamalan's "The Happening" points to yet another interesting reflection of our relationship with the Earth. In the case of "The Happening", the director, as well as the film's marketing strategy, are as important to my argument as the content of the film itself. "The Happening" is meant to capitalize on our era's cultural fear of its own detriments to the environment.

It's an interesting idea to consider Shyamalan's mythology, his public identity as a director of imaginative horror films, in analyzing "The Happening" as a comment on our culture. He's not someone we recognize for environmental activism and yet the message of his movie warns of some apocalyptic battle with nature. What this means to me is that Shyamalan's bag-o-tricks ran short of shocking reveals. Establishing the Earth as a villain isn't a new idea, and it's especially provoking for our time period, when our effect on the natural world is hot topic. So, having already turned to aliens, the Earth seems a much more relatable impetus of suspense, and he's right - we're all afraid of Mother Nature.

Even more interesting that the film's environmental subject was kept secret in its marketing strategy. The title alludes to an idea we're familiar with, an unexplained mass-death, yet trailers for the movie never give hint to the cause, other than some kind of epidemic. Shyamalan is known for his surprise twists, which is assumedly the studio's intention for keeping it a secret that the Earth is actually the villain of the film. Then, the fact that the film was advertised firstly as a suspense thriller, with no indication of its environmental issues, reveals its cultural motivation. "The Happening" is merely a ride.

The threat is minimalized, however, when you realize that M. Night Shyamalan and his dollar-driven executive friends are hardly a vague image of Nostradamus. At the end of the day, this film is about money and fiction, rather than activism, the future, truth, or the social challenge to prevent natural destruction. Still, the fact that the film succeeded in its financial purpose (gross profits over $100 million) demonstrates a public interest, and certainly an environmental apprehension so characteristic of our time. We sat through the film because it's not far-fetched to us that the Earth might fight soon fight back.

Earth for Aliens

The clip above is an excerpt from Michael Snow's 1971 film, La Région Centrale. The feature length version of the film contains the same rotating camera, at the same mountain-top location, with the same mechanical, sci-fi beeps, though for a total duration of 3 hours. So what is Snow trying to say about rotating a camera in a single location for 3 hours?

It seems obvioius to me that Snow is depicting visions of Earth as seen from an alien spacecraft ( demonstrated by his specific sound design). The camera seems to survey (scan?) the planet with a number of different perspectives that distort our perception of life as we know it, even of "up" and "down." Snow does an incredible job of visually interpreting the Earth outside of some normal human context.

This representation of the Earth is particularly interesting considering when it was made. Released in 1971, Space was a fresh idea. Humans launched into space for the first time not more than a decade and half before La Regione Central. The Sci-fi genre was finding its foundations. It's even proposed that the noises in Snow's film allude to Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, which was released in 1968. This was a time when the idea of space challenged the human perspective like never before. To go beyond our planet meant that we could literally look back at ourselves from a new point-of-view - to see the human experience from an inhuman eye.

The Earth for Thumbsuckers

"Things have changed since Captain Planet!" I'd tell my hypothetical Grandchildren.
"In my day, you had to be a superhero to save the Earth!"

Now, kids get their dose of environmental ethics in Computer-Generated Imagery. Pixar Animation Studios makes films that traditionally appeal to and are marketed for a young audience, though the studio's box-office triumphs and strong critical reception evidence an ability to connect with people of all ages. For their popularity alone, Pixar's films are an easily pertinent cultural snap-shot that include children as part of the picture. Wall-E is particularly special. That Wall-E makes bed-wettingly serious environmental suggestions about the future points to a contemporary anxiety in our relationship with the Earth. And don't let Wall-E's charming robotic eyes distract you from an important point: though the film carries a message that warns against the big-corporation, it was released by Disney.

Wall-E opens zooming through space, giving us the sense of the vastness of our universe before calmy arriving home, on Earth. After penetrating the cloud layer we discover the shapes of what look like city skylines, and upon closer look realize the Earth is now covered in towers of compacted trash. Who could be responsible for the desolation of our home, and why? The buck stops with "Buy-N-Large," a take off the big corporation retail store. Remembering that the major demographic of this film hasn't yet had their first job, it's significant that the world's most successful animation studio (who I remind you is distributed by one of the world's largest brands) is challenging our kids with such big ideas. Hm... there must be something going on?

This film is obviously a bi-product of an expanding trend towards environmental consciousness. Hollywood has always been criticized for it's liberal agenda, but Wall-E's suggestions seem ulta-progressive in nature, to the point where some might propose it seeks to brainwash youngsters. Devin Faraci, writer of The Devin Advocate, argues that while Wall-E's message demands environmental consciousness and also some kind of social responsibility, it is ultimately void and hypocritical due to the fact that Disney has such a large role in its creation and marketing. He makes a good point, suggesting, "The truth is that Wall-E feels like a really well-made stop smoking ad starring Joe Camel."

No one can argue that the film's message is hypocritical considering that millions of Wall-E promotional products will eventually become the heaping trash pile the movie warns itself against. Still, the film's hypocrisy is what convinces me that something significant is happening here. After credits roll, the studio leaves us by repeating its harmonic "Buy-N-Large" jingle accompanying the fictional brand logo - as if to say, "Though our intentions are good, this movie is a product of the sins it preaches against." That the film is self-reflexive about it's impact and, that Disney is ok with denouncing itself, is revolutionary. While Disney certainly hasn't destroyed the future of their company, it would seem they're committing artistic suicide by marketing these ideas. Regardless of whether Wall-E is hypocritical, it marks an important historical moment in which even our largest corporations realize the impact of their reach, and actually depend on selling the idea of an alternative mindset.