As we are introduced to the toy trains – the stars of Ray and Charles Eames’ short film Toccata for Toy Trains – a voice over explains that:
In a good toy there has to be nothing self-conscious about the use of materials… what is wood is wood, what is tin is tin.
This statement intrigued me and conditioned the way I saw the rest of the film. The city in Toccata is constructed out of old toys and painted backdrops and is populated by a strange array of dolls and figurines. And yet that voice over gives this city a kind of authority. These toys aren’t real, but they are authentic.
While this seemed to be a somewhat counter-intuitive proposition, it struck me as central to any understanding of the film.
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| Charles and Ray Eames, Toccata for Toy Trains, 1957 |
In class we discussed the possibility of treating Toccata for Toy Trains as a city symphony film. Indeed, ‘Toccata’ is the name of a type of musical composition and this fact colours how we read the rhythm and pace of the film. The movement of the trains and the people, as well as the edits of the montage sequences, takes on a rhythmic significance similar to that found within other city symphony films. There is even a section of Toccata that quite explicitly recalls Ruttmann’s Berlin: Symphony of a Great City. As one of the toy trains pulls into a station the film’s pace slows and we see repeated close-ups of the train’s wheels, recalling Ruttmann’s train as it approaches Berlin at the beginning of the film.
The camera, positioned at the eye level of the city’s miniature inhabitants, determines the relative scale of this world. As I watched the film I forgot how small this city really was. Composed of a motley bunch of rusty old toys and badly painted backdrops, this city seemed no more ‘constructed’ than the cities we find in Vertov or Ruttmann’s films – cities that speak to the modern urban landscape allegorically through their spatial fragmentation and rhythmic distortion.
The Eames city is a hybrid and composite space, just like Vertov and Ruttmann’s. Porcelain dolls, wooden figurines and tin monkeys occupy the same space and wooden trains share tracks with rusty tin trains.
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| Charles and Ray Eames, Toccata for Toy Trains, 1957 |
Thinking about this analogy between Toccata and the other city symphony films, I couldn’t help but wonder whether Toccata resembles and mimics these films, or whether they anticipate Toccata. What I mean by this is that perhaps Toccata achieves something that Vertov and Ruttmann were working towards.
What Toccata achieves is this notion of authenticity – these toys aren’t dressed up or disguised, they are simply toys. Vertov (and Ruttmann too, but Vertov more explicitly) is also concerned with authenticity. What is authentic within Man with The Movie Camera is not so much the ‘reality’ of the city he reveals, but its ontological status as a cinematic construct. He signposts this through his constant use of metacinematic references – the cinema auditorium and the editing studio. Vertov does not contradict himself when he declares he is ‘heading to the streets’ and abandoning the studio and its fake worlds.[1] He is interested in authenticity but this does not mean he is interested in gritty realism. What is authentic in this film is the ontological status of the cinematic image.
What Vertov takes great pains to ensure – namely this notion of the ‘authentic’ – Toccata achieves almost effortlessly. It is a humble, yet surprisingly complex, film that I found a rather apt note to finish the course on.
[1] Vertov, Dziga (edited Annette Michelson, trans. Kevin O’Brien). 1984. Kino-Eye: The Writings of Dziga Vertov, London; Sydney: Pluto Press pp. 5-9
Hi Isobel. I spent a while trying to work out what made Toccata for Toy Trains' so hypnotic. I think its the quietly alarming effect that is created by the anthropomorphism of toys in close up. When you hold them or play with them, they just 'represent' people; they are tokens. But when you get down to their eye level, their little faces acquire specific expressions. Accidental, or not. Plump mustachioed men on platforms, looking angry or preoccupied. Alarmed looking train drivers. Stunned passengers. It seemed a micro-world full of nameless dangers.
ReplyDeleteI really liked your distinction between authenticity and 'realism.' It can be strongly argued that the full-scale 'cinematic city' is a film set built as much for visual effect as the little railway landscapes. One available angle of view for the modern city is the Lilliputian one, as seen in King Kong for example.
Those opening lines really struck me as well, in the way that the narration concerning the materials "what's wood is wood, what's tin is tin" relates to the film as a whole (it is simply a film about toy trains, as the narrator first announces). It's rare to see such a simple and truthful concept in a film. I found your dealings with the term 'toccata' really interesting and insightful. Another line that struck me was the idea of these authentic, old materials being viewed with a "direct and unembarrassed pleasure", for that's exactly how I viewed the film.
ReplyDeleteI really liked your comparison between Toccata and Berlin. It's good to note that cities are cities in any construction of the image, whether taken from real life or reenacted by toys. It reminded me of Burgin's comments on film as analogy. Ultimately, images can be made to speak for a multitude of things, so 'authenticity' really speaks for the way in which the audience receives and interacts with them.
ReplyDeleteAnd I definitely agree that the Eames' found a way to express Vertov's ideas in a far more humble way!