How Jamaican Sound System and Dub Culture shaped modern music 

Jamaican sound system culture and the legacy of dub have had a profound and lasting impact on modern music, extending far beyond their Caribbean roots. By reinventing the way sound is manipulated, it reshaped our approach to bass, rhythm, and spatial sounds, leaving a deep imprint on many genres.  

The history of sound system culture and the creation of dub  

Dub is heavily linked to sound system culture, which became popular in the late 40s as an affordable alternative to the live jazz scene in Jamaica. As sound systems parties became popular, building your own sound system was one of the few ways to make money in the unstable economy of Jamaica. An important part of the culture took place in the Sound Clash, a friendly battle in which each sound system tried to prove that its features sounded better.  
 
One of the biggest name in the game was Ruddy Redwood, a sound system operator, whose relationship with record producer Duke Reid allowed him to distinguish himself with the finest latest records. One day, Reid’s engineer forgot to add the vocal to a track, and Reid was satisfied with the track like that. Reggae bands then started to release instrumental versions on the B side, and due to the loose copyright laws in Jamaica, producers began to use these records as raw material for new tracks. This is basically the ancestor of the sampling in hip hop, where “breaks” from soul, jazz  and funk are cut and recycled to create new tracks.  

 
But what about dub? In the late 60s, Duke Reid started to employ King Tubby to produce instrumental versions, and King Tubby quickly discovered that many instrumental layers could be reworked, emphasized and processed with effects. He would record new versions of songs by layering instrumentals and live-processing them with effects, treating the mixing desk as an instrument itself. The videos below shows how this process can be made, each fader is an instrumental layer, and each knob is an effect. And this is what dub is : the process of actively transforming the sound, drowning it under several effects to give it a more psychedelic atmosphere. King Tubby’s experimentations on already existing audios do not only represent the creation of dub, but also the birth of the remix, even though this particular word will be used only in the 80s, in genres like house and techno.  

Jacob Miller – Baby I Love You So and it’s B side dub version (at 2:30) :

At the same time, the increasing demand for exclusive tracks from sound systems led to the creation of dub plates: one-off records, often pressed onto vinyl, featuring unique dub versions of a track that were not available to the public. These dub plates became a powerful tool in the sound system culture, allowing operators to showcase their distinct versions of popular tracks, further pushing the boundaries of musical experimentation. It also popularized the term “dub” to call these alternatives versions of a track.

Echoes in the UK 

In the late 60s, the sound system culture arrived in the UK with the mass immigration of Jamaicans, introducing reggae and dub sonorities to the punk scene. The song Revolution Rock on the popular record London Calling by The Clash is one the best examples of that influence.

However, dub impact is deeper on the UK electronic scene, where dub productions techniques are a pillar of many 90s genres such as jungle and its little brother drum & bass. The emphasis on the bass in the mix, the recycling of audio parts, especially the famous percussion “breaks”, and the sound processing of the high-end elements through delay, reverb and phaser-flanger come directly from dub production techniques.  
 
But the closest parallel between dub and UK electronic music lies in the infamous dubstep.  
This genre is often misunderstood or dismissed, mainly because it was popularized in the 2010s by Skrillex, whose music, while influential, doesn’t truly represent dubstep. Skrillex’s style, often referred to as “brostep”, features aggressive, high-energy drops and distorted basslines, but it lacks many of the subtler, foundational elements that define dubstep. True dubstep, which emerged in the early 2000s in the UK, is rooted in the same deep sub-bass frequencies and processing techniques than dub music, with a two-step rhythm.  

The profound impact of dub music on these niche scenes is the reason why UK is one of last places where the tradition of dub plates remains alive today. DJs still cut exclusive versions of tracks to gain an edge in their sets, keeping the spirit of sound clashes alive in the modern scene. 

The skanks legacy

One of the most iconic elements of reggae music is the skank: the offbeat guitar stab that became heavily processed with reverb and delay in dub music. This particular sonority has an important posterity, and the music genre that pays him tribute the most is dub techno.  
 
Dub techno is a genre that recreates the skank digitally, calling it a “dub chord”, and uses it as its core element. Created in the 90s by the German duo Basic Channel, it is one of the most influential sub-genres of techno music, especially in the 2000s with artists such as Deepchord, Fluxion, Quantec, and Luke Hess.  
 
In the following track by Len Faki, the dub chord reminds us easily the famous skank:  

In this genre, beyond the dub chord, we can find the same processing techniques than in dub music but pushed even further to the extreme. Since it’s techno, the tracks are very repetitive, but those techniques allow the elements to be constantly modulated and to drown everything under delay and reverb, resulting in very atmospheric tracks.  
 
While Len Faki’s example was perfect to show the connection between the dub chord and the skank, this track by Basic Channel is more representative of the genre in general :


Today, the genre is still alive, with artists from outside the dub techno scene occasionally experimenting with it (such as Stef Mendesidis in its track below), and artists like LDS continue to push the genre’s boundaries and drive its evolution.

Thomas Roehri

When will the video game crisis end?

Mass layoffs for the past 2 years.

Between 2022 and 2024, the video game industry has been undergoing a huge crisis.  More than 32,000 jobs have been cut in the video game industry worldwide during this period.

Who is firing workers? The answer is simple: Tango Gameworks is a great example of recent layoffs; it was shut down by its parent company Microsoft in July. This move was poorly understood by many in the industry, especially since the studio had released a critical and commercial success earlier that year, Hi-Fi Rush. Sony also made headlines by laying off 900 employees from its PlayStation division, which represents about 8% of its global workforce. Finally, the giant Activision Blizzard, which made over $500 million in net income during the second half of 2023, laid off 1,900 employees in January of this year. How can we explain that the giants of the video game industry are posting record profits yet laying off tens of thousands of employees?

To understand this, a slight look back in time is needed.

COVID: A Mirage for Investors.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, a large portion of the population was confined at home for several weeks. Many people turned to video games to pass the time or even to connect socially in new ways. Games like Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Among Us exploded, and the Nintendo Switch was out of stock in the United States for several months. As a result, the video game market saw its value rise by 21.26%. Since video games were one of the few growing markets during this period, the number of people wanting to invest in the industry exploded. We saw a surge in demand coupled with an explosion in financing capabilities for most studios. Convinced that growth would be sustainable, this enthusiasm allowed many studios to hire massively to meet demand. However, the video game market shrank by 2% in 2022. This was an unexpected shock for investors and studios. We saw the first wave of layoffs after this disappointing year, with about 8,000 positions being eliminated in 2022.

From 2022 to today, the mirage has faded.

In 2023, the market returned to double-digit growth, and everyone agrees that this year has been one of the best in terms of the quality of released games. However, layoffs continued. Major publishers are under pressure, with investors demanding high and quick margins. Companies are pushed to cut costs, and this often involves reducing headcount.

The problem is that developing a game is becoming increasingly expensive and time-consuming; profits don’t arrive as quickly as investors expect who are unfamiliar with the video game market. The mismatch between investor expectations and the time needed to create a video game is one of the main reasons for these layoffs.

This leads to a reevaluation of the « AAA » video game model. Indeed, AAA games, those major blockbusters, require development and marketing budgets that can be higher than those of movie productions. For instance, the budget for Red Dead Redemption was 800 million dollars. But while a film can be made in a few months, AAA games often require years of work. The pressure from investors, who expect a quick return on their investments, directly conflicts with the reality of video game production.

Studios find themselves in a paradoxical situation: to meet investor expectations and produce high-budget titles, they need to hire large numbers of specialized talent, but due to the slow pace of financial returns, they are forced to lay off employees to remain profitable and maintain a high financial valuation. It’s a vicious circle that heavily impacts the industry and leaves little room for long-term projects.

Another consequence of this pressure is the rise of « games as a service », titles that prioritize economic models based on microtransactions, season passes, and subscriptions. Rather than embarking on expensive projects with a single release date, studios are investing in games designed to generate ongoing revenue. Often seen as a cash cow, this model is popular with investors.

However, the games-as-a-service market is approaching saturation. Five flagship titles already dominate a large share of players, representing about 27% of global playtime. With attention already monopolized by established successes, new entrants are struggling to find their audience. A striking example is Concord, a games-as-a-service title launched by Sony this year, which turned out to be a resounding failure. Despite a colossal budget of $400 million, the game reportedly sold only 25,000 copies.

A Paradigm Shift is Necessary.

Today, a paradigm shift is required. The model centered around expensive blockbusters and an overabundance of games as a service is starting to show its limits. The industry must rethink how it creates games.

For several years now, independent studios have been leading the way with smaller projects, often freer from the pressure of deadlines. Going against the endless development cycles, these smaller and often bolder games attract an audience tired of repetitive trends. They prove that other paths are possible and that it’s possible to reach players in different ways.

For the big publishers, this implies accepting more spread-out profitability and reevaluating investor expectations based on the realities of game development. This realignment could finally stabilize employment in a sector saturated by hiring and firing cycles. Finding a balance between creativity and profitability is difficult, but it may be essential for the future of the industry.

Gabriel Rabouille

Césaria Évora, and the World Rediscovered Cape Verde. 

The Cape Verdean identity 

August 27, 1941, in the town of Mindelo on the Cape Verdean island of São Vicente. Little Césaria Évora opens her eyes for the first time, and no one knows yet that she will forever mark her island’s fame and world music, becoming the most listened-to African singer on the planet. 

Not much seemed to destine her for this. Born into a poor family with seven children, her father passed away when she was only seven years old. Her mother placed her in an orphanage, where she learned to sing in the choir. Through various encounters and by singing in bars and cafes as a teenager, she embraced Cape Verdean music, a blend of influences stemming from the Portuguese colonization of the island and the forced immigration of African populations.

One of its major genres is the morna, imbued with saudade, considered one of the most challenging Portuguese words to translate. The term expresses a sadness tinged with nostalgia, a feeling of being dispossessed of one’s past. It is a complex feeling that blends melancholy, nostalgia, and hope, a way of « being present in the past, or being past in the present »—a key element in Césaria Évora’s music. 

One song that spoke to them all 

Soon, Césaria began singing on local radio; her fame grew throughout the islands, and she recorded a few songs. In the 1970s, her career began, but political circumstances caught up with her. After Cape Verde gained independence from Portuguese colonial rule on July 5, 1975, the country was governed by the African Party for the Independence of Cape Verde, which closed bars and cafes. Césaria’s income dwindled, and she put an end to her career. 

Her luck finally turned when she met José Da Silva during a trip to Lisbon to celebrate Cape Verde’s 10th independence anniversary. He was moved to tears upon hearing her sing in a Cape Verdean club in Lisbon. This French railway worker with family roots in Mindelo became her manager in 1987. Césaria recorded various albums, and in 1991, her international career began with her third album, Mar Azul, which is entirely acoustic.

On December 14, she performed at New Morning in Paris, where she had previously appeared twice before to sparse audiences. This time, word of mouth had done its trick. That day, she sang the song Sôdade for the first time. « I moved through the room in a rush, » said her editor François Post. « The crowd was so dense that it took me twenty minutes to reach José Da Silva to ask what this incredible song was! » Sôdade was featured on the album Miss Perfumado, released in 1992. Césaria Évora’s reputation was built on this very political song, which speaks of the forced labor organized by the Portuguese colonial authorities, requiring Cape Verdeans to work on the cocoa plantations of São Tomé and Príncipe, another African island occupied by Lisbon. 

Authenticity and beauty: a key legacy 

By the time the world discovered Césaria, she had already lived a thousand lives, weathered countless storms. She wasn’t a rising star (at the same time, stars like Cyndi Lauper and Vanessa Paradis were on top of the charts) but an ancient star that had been overlooked for too long. She never truly sought fame, and when it came, Césaria remained herself, returning to her Cape Verde home between tours.

For years, she had sung in bars and streets, for herself, for those who listened, to resonate with that saudade shared by those who live between two worlds. Césaria’s music, her mornas and coladeiras, spoke of distance and absence with infinite gentleness but also a quiet strength. She remained attached to Mindelo, her island, her town, her port, her house, by the sea, charged with the loves and sorrows of those forced to leave and forced to stay. She always sang barefoot on stage, close to her land and without artifice. We know the images, her silhouette, her apron with large pockets, her plastic hair rollers, her unhurried steps between baskets of fish and aromatic herbs.

On tour, she preferred the neighborhood cafe to fancy restaurants, where she’d sit outside, chatting with passersby. In the same way, she would sometimes welcome curious tourists in her large house in Cape Verde. She was a lover of good food and life (to excess, as she was diabetic and an alcoholic for a time) ; one could taste her legendary rum, which she freely offered, even though this same rum caused her so much harm and she quit after 1994. 

Albums followed one after another, as did world tours; she won an American Grammy Award and two French Victoires de la Musique. Her final album, Nha Sentimento (2009), is a whirlwind of old and new influences in Cape Verdean music, carried by the deepened voice of the woman who never gave up smoking, despite her doctors’ warnings. Césaria grew tired of medical orders, and in 2011, after several open-heart surgeries, she passed away from respiratory failure. She lived life to the fullest, singing of love and exile with that rugged voice that crossed generations, leaving Cape Verde regularly for tours only to honor it better, giving a face to these Atlantic confetti islands, scars of colonial history. Her musical legacy is immense, in Cape Verde and beyond, and it continues to give voice to sorrow and to those who bear it with rage and dignity, and to all those who, like her, feel that saudade, that sweet vertigo of nostalgia that will never fade. 

Joséphine Pierson


Cesária Évora, et le monde redécouvrit le Cap-Vert. 

Le Cap-Vert dans la peau 

27 août 1941, ville de Mindelo sur l’île capverdienne de São Vicente. La petite Cesária Évora ouvre les yeux pour la première fois, et personne ne sait encore qu’elle marquera à jamais la renommée de son île et la musique mondiale, en devenant la chanteuse africaine la plus écoutée de la planète. 

Pas grand-chose ne l’y destine. Née dans une famille pauvre de sept enfants, son père meurt alors qu’elle est âgée de 7 ans. Sa mère la place alors dans un orphelinat, où elle apprend à chanter dans la chorale. Via diverses rencontres et en chantant dans des bars et cafés encore adolescente, elle s’approprie la musique capverdienne, qui est un métissage entre diverses influences musicales à la suite de la colonisation portugaise de l’île et de l’immigration forcée de populations africaines.

L’un de ses genres majeurs est la morna, imprégnée de « saudade », qui est réputé commel’un des mots portugais les plus difficiles à traduire. Le terme exprimerait une tristesse empreinte de nostalgie, un sentiment de dépossession de son passé. C’est un sentiment complexe où se mêlent mélancolie, nostalgie et espoir, une manière « d’être présent dans le passé, ou d’être passé dans le présent » – un élément clé de la musique de Cesária Évora. 

Cette chanson qui leur parla tous 

Bientôt, Cesária chante sur les radios locales ; sa notoriété augmente dans toutes les îles du pays et elle enregistre quelques chansons. Dans les années 1970, sa carrière commence, mais la situation politique la rattrape. À la suite de l’indépendance du Cap-Vert du joug de l’Empire colonial portugais le 5 juillet 1975, le pays est dirigé par le Parti africain pour l’indépendance du Cap-Vert, qui fait fermer bars et cafés. Les revenus de Cesária baissent et elle met un terme à sa carrière. 

La chance lui sourit enfin quand elle rencontre José Da Silva lors d’un voyage à Lisbonne pour célébrer les 10 ans de l’indépendance capverdienne. Celui-ci aurait fondu en larmes dans une boîte cap-verdienne de Lisbonne en entendant la chanteuse. Cheminot français dont la famille est originaire de Mindelo, il devient son manager en 1987. Cesária enregistre différents albums et en 1991, sa carrière internationale commence avec son troisième album, Mar Azul, totalement acoustique.

Le 14 décembre, elle est au New Morning, à Paris, où elle s’est déjà présentée deux fois auparavant devant une salle clairsemée. Cette fois, le bouche-à-oreille a fait son effet. Ce jour-là, elle chante pour la première fois Sôdade. « Je traverse la salle comme un fou, dit François Post, son éditeur. Le public est tellement dense que je mets vingt minutes à rejoindre José da Silva, pour lui demander quelle est cette chanson formidable ! » Sôdade figure sur l’album Miss Perfumado sortie en 1992. La réputation de Cesária Évora se bâtit sur cette chanson très politique, qui évoque le travail forcé organisé par le pouvoir colonial portugais, obligeant des Cap-Verdiens à travailler dans les plantations de cacao de São Tomé et Princípe, autre île africaine occupée par Lisbonne. 

L’authenticité et la beauté en héritage 

Quand le monde découvre Cesária, elle a déjà vécu mille vies, traversé mille tempêtes. Ce n’est pas une étoile montante (la même époque voit briller Cyndi Lauper ou Vanessa Paradis), mais un astre ancien que l’on a trop longtemps ignoré. Elle n’a jamais véritablement cherché la gloire, et quand celle-ci arrive, Cesária reste elle-même et retourne dans sa maison du Cap-Vert entre les tournées.

Longtemps, elle chante dans les bars et les ruelles, pour elle, pour ceux qui l’écoutent, et pour faire résonner cette saudade que partagent ceux qui vivent entre deux mondes. La musique de Cesária, ses mornas et coladeiras, racontent la distance et l’absence avec une douceur infinie, mais aussi une force tranquille. Elle reste attachée à Mindelo, son île, sa ville, son port, sa maison, au bord d’une mer chargée des haines et des amours de ceux qui sont tout à la fois forcés de partir et forcés de rester.  Elle chante toujours pieds nus sur scène, proche de sa terre et sans artifice. On connait les images, sa silhouette, son tablier à larges poches, ses bigoudis en plastique, sa démarche jamais trop rapide entre les paniers de poissons et d’herbes aromatiques.

En tournée, aux grands restaurants elle préfère le troquet voisin, où elle s’attable dehors, sur le trottoir, et converse parfois avec les passants. De la même façon qu’elle accueille volontiers chez elle, dans sa grande maison au Cap-Vert, les touristes curieux venus se promener dans le coin.  L’artiste est gourmande et bonne vivante (à l’excès, puisque diabétique et alcoolique un temps) ; on hume ses recettes, on goûte ses rhums mythiques qu’elle met à libre disposition, qui lui ont fait tant de mal et auxquels la chanteuse ne touchera plus après 1994. 

Les disques s’enchainent, les tournées mondiales aussi, elle gagne un Grammy Award américain et deux Victoires de la musique françaises. Son dernier album, Nah Sentimento (2009), est un tourbillon des influences anciennes et nouvelles de la musique capverdienne, portée par la voix rendue plus grave de celle qui n’a jamais arrêtée la cigarette, malgré les avis des médecins. Cesária s’agace des injonctions médicales et en 2011, après plusieurs opérations à cœur ouvert, elle s’éteint d’insuffisances respiratoires. Elle aura bu la vie cul sec, chantant l’amour, l’exil, avec cette voix rauque qui a traversé les âges, partie régulièrement du Cap-Vert en tournée pour finalement mieux l’honorer, donnant un visage à ces îles confettis de l’Atlantique, cicatrices de l’histoire coloniale. Son héritage musical est immense, au Cap-Vert et ailleurs, et il continue de donner une voix à la douleur et à ceux qui la portent avec rage et dignité, et à tous ceux qui, comme elle, ressentent cette saudade, ce doux vertige d’une nostalgie qui ne s’éteindra jamais. 

Joséphine Pierson

Is Animation Still for Kids?

« It’s for kids! » — a phrase we’ve all heard (or even said) at least once when the topic of
animation comes up. But this persistent stereotype, though deeply rooted, is starting to fade
away. While cartoons were long associated with children, today animation explores much
more mature and complex worlds, captivating an adult audience. So why do these
misconceptions persist? And more importantly, how has animation evolved to prove it can
tell stories just as serious as any live-action movie or series?


A History of Misconception

Historically, animation has been considered a children’s domain, especially in the West,
where studios like Disney dominated with family-friendly films. Even today, the overwhelming
majority of animated programs aired on French television are aimed at children, reflecting a
tradition deeply embedded in viewing habits. While TV has long been the primary channel
for this content (think iconic networks like Gulli and France TV), trends are shifting with the
rise of digital platforms.


A Diverse Offering

Despite these misconceptions, there have long been animated series that serve as a bridge
between children’s shows and more structured stories for teens and young adults. Cartoon
Network was a trailblazer in this area, airing series like Regular Show, The Amazing World
of Gumball
, Steven Universe, and the beloved Adventure Time, which offered more complex
narratives than traditional children’s cartoons. These shows captivated older audiences with
their deep characters and story arcs that spanned multiple episodes. Although accessible to
younger viewers, they contained subtle layers of meaning that appealed to teenagers
seeking more depth in their stories.

The shift towards more adult content was marked by Adult Swim, Cartoon Network’s
nighttime programming block, which offers animated series specifically for young adults.
Rick and Morty, for example, blends absurd humor with philosophical reflections while
tackling complex social issues. The Venture Bros. and BoJack Horseman are other standout
series that juggle satire, dark humor, and social commentary, all while offering sophisticated
plots that set them apart from traditional children’s animation. These programs prove that
animation can be a powerful narrative medium, even for addressing adult themes.
Though visually appealing and sometimes quirky, these shows cater to a mature audience,
leveraging complex storylines and character development. They demonstrate that animation
isn’t confined to children’s entertainment, but is capable of telling serious stories that
resonate with young adults, shattering the stereotypes that once marginalized the genre.


The Popularity of Anime

For decades, Japanese series like Monster, Akira, and Ghost in the Shell have shown that
anime can tackle complex and adult subjects, ranging from existential philosophy to intense
social critiques. France, historically the second-largest consumer of manga and their anime
adaptations, has long served as a gateway for introducing this genre to Western audiences.
The explosion in popularity of works like Attack on Titan during the Covid-19 pandemic
played a crucial role in deconstructing the notion that animation is limited to family
entertainment. Thanks to these works, Western audiences have begun to accept that
animation can be just as serious and profound as live-action films.


What’s Next?

The rise of streaming platforms has greatly diversified the animated offering, allowing new
genres to find their audience. Giants like Netflix and Amazon Prime have begun producing
animated series aimed at adults, such as Love, Death & Robots and Invincible. These series
often blend science fiction, thriller, horror, and philosophy, helping to break down the image
of animation as purely for children. The demand for richer, more nuanced stories is growing,
and within the last five years, the availability of animated episodes on these platforms has
more than doubled.
Additionally, animation is experiencing a true revolution with the Spider-Verse saga. These
films have redefined the genre with innovative aesthetics and multi-layered narratives,
proving that animation can not only compete with live-action blockbusters but also offer
unprecedented depth and artistic experience. This success has paved the way for bolder
productions, both visually and thematically.
Finally, on the national stage, promising French studios like Fortiche Production (Arcane)
and Je Suis Bien Content (Mars Express) are driving a growing wave of innovation. They
show that the French animation industry is capable of producing impactful works for a global
audience. These studios are actively contributing to the evolution of animation in France,
proving that the medium is constantly expanding and ready to assert itself as a true art form.


Recommendations for the Curious

So, NO, animation isn’t just for kids, and it’s absolutely cool to watch it! If this article has
sparked your interest in exploring these boundary-pushing works, here are a few more
suggestions in addition to those already mentioned:
Lastman: A jaded thirty-something who fights demons from another dimension to
protect a little girl… It’s thrilling, and best of all, it’s FRENCH!
Cyberpunk: Edgerunners: Dive into the gritty streets of Night City, where David
Martinez, a street kid from Heywood, is determined to climb the social ladder. Get
your tissues ready, it’s intense!
Undone: Alma lives a dull, depressing life until, out of nowhere, her father—who has
been dead for years—mysteriously contacts her. A fascinating series that blends
animation and live-action to explore the mysteries of time and reality.
Scavengers Reign: Trust me on this one.

Next time someone tells you animation is for kids, you’ll know exactly what to say

Yvan Murat

Lee Miller, an (almost) forgotten pioneer woman

Elizabeth Miller, better known as Lee Miller, is a photographer and war reporter – among others – who lived through key periods of the 20th century such as the Roaring Twenties and the Surrealist movement, 1930s New York, the Blitz in England and the Liberation in 1944.

If you’ve seen (or not) the recently released biopic Lee, directed by Ellen Kuras and starring Kate Winslet, Alexander Skarsgård and Andy Semberg, this is your chance to take a closer look at one of the most fascinating and almost unknown photographers of her generation. Although Lee Miller is best known as Man Ray’s muse, the film focuses on her involvement as a photojournalist during the Second World War.

Paris or the Climax of Surrealism

Born in 1907 in Poughkeepsie (New York, USA), Lee Miller grew up with a father who was a photographer in his spare time. However, the incestuous photographs he took of her, and the rape she suffered at the age of 7, had a major influence on her future work, tinged with both violence and realism. After being spotted in New York by press tycoon Condé Nast (owner of Vogue and Vanity Fair), Lee Miller embarked on a modeling career at Vogue in 1927, appearing several times on the magazine’s front cover.

Her experience at Vogue also introduced her to the world of photography, thanks to Edward Steichen, who recommended her to Man Ray, photographer and figurehead of the Surrealist movement in Paris. Lee Miller’s career took a real turn.

As Man Ray’s collaborator, muse and lover (Portrait of Lee Miller, 1929), Lee Miller took part in the discovery of solarization, a technique that allowed bodies and objects to be surrounded by an almost natural black halo. Her work brought her into contact with important Surrealist artists such as Jean Cocteau (she even played in Le Sang d’un poète in 1930!), Paul Eluard or Pablo Picasso.

Her breakup with a jealous Man Ray, who even took credit for some of her work, encouraged her to return to New York, where she opened her own studio for advertising and portrait photography (Dorothy Hill, [solarized], Lee Miller Studios, Inc., New York, USA, 1933 or Self Portrait with Headband, Lee Miller Studios, Inc., New York, USA, 1932).

One of the few female war correspondents

After marrying an Egyptian businessman and settling in Cairo, where she photographed deserts (Portrait of Space, Near Siwa, Egypt, 1937), she returned to Europe with English painter Roland Penrose, who was to become her new partner.

With the Second World War already underway, Lee Miller was hired in London by British Vogue as a photographer in 1940 (Wartime Fashion and Lifestyle, Hampstead, London, England, May 1941). But it was in 1942 that she was accredited by the US Army to document the Blitz.

In the summer of 1944, Lee Miller became a war correspondent and was authorized to follow the American army during the Allied Liberation (St Malo, 1944). She was one of the few women photojournalists authorized to follow the army at the front. During this period, she photographed day-to-day warfare, military hospitals, the D-Day landings, the liberation of German cities and the discovery of concentration camps (Ohrdruf, Buchenwald and Dachau). The horror of the camps and the return of the survivors was captured and broadcast thanks to the work of Lee Miller, who sent them to Vogue with the inscription “Believe it”, so unreal did they seem.

One of the best-known photos was taken by American photographer David E. Scherman of Life magazine (Lee Miller in Hitler’s bathtub, Munich, Germany, April 1945). Indeed, after the liberation of the Dachau camp in April 1945, Miller and Scherman found themselves in the command post of the 4th American Division and former home of Adolf Hitler. Lee Miller’s provocative irony inspired this famous bathroom photograph, whose details and allusions are numerous and open to interpretation (Hitler’s portrait, the dirty boots on the white carpet, the woman’s bust, etc.).

Although the post-war years plunged her into alcoholism and what is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder, Lee Miller continued to work on a few projects for British Vogue before abandoning professional photography to devote herself to a new passion: cooking. It was not until after her death in 1977 that her son Anthony Penrose discovered by chance some 60,000 photographs taken by his mother.

Why is Lee Miller worth (re)discovering?

Apart from the film’s release, discovering her work also allows us to see just how innovative she was. She was able to find a place for herself in the Surrealist circle, while at the same time being an independent woman artist.

Although Lee Miller remains one of the only female photo-reporters of the Second World War to have entered the death camps, she also documented the war from a female perspective, photographing women in the military (A Polish pilot [Anna Leska] who flies a Spitfire for the A.T.A., White Waltham, England, 1942), women survivors and women victims of the “Epuration”. Thanks to her innovative view of the society of the time and her surrealist influence, Lee Miller was able to emancipate herself from the image of the trophy wife (which she was for a time) to offer avant-garde images that are a must-see!

Lee Miller’s work is available online: https: //www.leemiller.co.uk/


Lee Miller, une pionnière (presque) oubliée

Elizabeth Miller, plus connue sous le nom de Lee Miller, est une photographe et reporter de guerre – entre autres – qui a traversé des époques clés du XXe siècle telles que les Années folles et le mouvement surréaliste, le New York des années 1930, le Blitz en Angleterre ou la Libération en 1944.

Si vous avez vu (ou non) le biopic Lee Miller sorti récemment, réalisé par Ellen Kuras et avec Kate Winslet, Alexander Skarsgård et Andy Semberg, c’est l’occasion de s’intéresser à une des photographes les plus fascinantes et presque méconnues de sa génération. Si Lee Miller est principalement connue pour avoir été la muse de Man Ray, le film mets plutôt en lumière son engagement en tant que photojournaliste lors de la Seconde Guerre mondiale.

Paris ou l’apogée du surréalisme

Née en 1907 à Poughkeepsie (New York, États-Unis), Lee Miller grandit avec un père photographe à ses heures perdues. Toutefois, les clichés qu’il prend d’elle – à connotation incestueuse – et le viol qu’elle subit à 7 ans l’influenceront grandement dans ses travaux futurs, à la fois tintés de violence et de réalisme. Après avoir été repérée à New York par le magnat de la presse Condé Nast (propriétaire de Vogue et Vanity Fair), Lee Miller entame en 1927 une carrière de mannequin chez Vogue et fait plusieurs fois la Une du magazine.

Son expérience chez Vogue lui permet aussi de s’initier à l’univers de la photographie grâce à Edward Steichen, qui la recommande auprès de Man Ray, photographe et figure de proue du mouvement surréaliste à Paris. La carrière de Lee Miller prend alors un véritable tournant.

Collaboratrice, muse et amante de Man Ray (Portrait of Lee Miller, 1929), Lee Miller participe à la découverte de la technique de la solarisation, une technique permettant de cerner les corps et les objets d’un halo noir presque naturel. Son travail lui permet de rencontrer des figures importantes du mouvement telles que Jean Cocteau (elle joue même dans Le Sang d’un poète en 1930 !), Paul Eluard ou Pablo Picasso.

Sa rupture avec Man Ray, jaloux et qui s’est au passage attribué certaines de ses œuvres, l’encourage à retourner à New York, où elle ouvre son propre studio de photographie publicitaire et de portraits (Dorothy Hill, [solarized], Lee Miller Studios, Inc., New York, USA, 1933 ou encore Self Portrait with Headband, Lee Miller Studios, Inc., New York, USA, 1932).

Une des rares femmes correspondantes de guerre

Après son mariage avec un homme d’affaires égyptien et son installation au Caire, où elle photographie notamment les déserts (Portrait of Space, near Siwa, Egypt, 1937), elle retourne en Europe avec le peintre anglais Roland Penrose, qui deviendra son nouveau compagnon.

Alors que la Seconde Guerre mondiale a déjà commencé, Lee Miller est embauchée à Londres par British Vogue comme photographe en 1940 (Wartime Fashion and Lifestyle, Hampstead, Londres, Angleterre, Mai 1941).  Mais c’est en 1942 qu’elle est accréditée par la US Army afin de documenter la période du Blitz.

Lors de l’été 1944, Lee Miller devient correspondante de guerre et est ainsi autorisée à suivre l’armée américaine lors de la Libération par les Alliés (Saint-Malo, 1944). Il s’agit alors d’une des rares femmes photojournalistes autorisées à suivre l’armée sur le front. Durant cette période, elle photographie la guerre au quotidien, les hôpitaux militaires, le Débarquement, la libération des villes allemandes et la découverte des camps de concentration (Ohrdruf, Buchenwald et Dachau). L’horreur des camps et le retour des survivants ont été capturés et diffusés grâce au travail de Lee Miller, qui les envoya à Vogue avec l’inscription « Believe it » tellement cela semblait irréel.

Une des photos les plus connues a été réalisée par le photographe américain David E. Scherman du magazine Life (Lee Miller in Hitler’s bathtub, Munich, Germany, Avril 1945). En effet, après la libération du camp de Dachau en avril 1945, Miller et Scherman se trouvent dans le poste de commandement de la 4e division américaine et ancien domicile d’Adolf Hitler. L’ironie et le côté provocateur de Lee Miller inspireront cette célèbre photographie réalisée dans la salle de bain et dont les détails et allusions sont nombreux et sujets à interprétation (le portrait d’Hitler, les bottes sales sur le tapis blanc, le buste de femme, etc.).

Si l’après-guerre la plonge dans l’alcoolisme et ce qu’on appelle maintenant le stress post-traumatique, Lee Miller continue quelques projets pour British Vogue avant d’abandonner la photographie professionnelle pour se consacrer à une nouvelle passion : la cuisine. Ce n’est qu’après sa mort en 1977 que son fils Anthony Penrose découvre par hasard près de 60 000 photos réalisées par sa mère.

Pourquoi Lee Miller est-elle à (re)découvrir ?

Outre la sortie du film, découvrir son travail permet aussi de voir à quel point elle a été novatrice. Elle a en effet réussi à se faire une place dans le cercle surréaliste tout en étant une femme artiste et indépendante professionnellement.

Bien que Lee Miller reste une des seules femmes photoreporters de la Seconde Guerre mondiale ayant pénétré dans les camps de la mort, elle a aussi documenté la guerre avec un regard féminin en photographiant les femmes engagées militairement (A Polish pilot [Anna Leska] who flies a Spitfire for the A.T.A., White Waltham, Angleterre, 1942), les femmes survivantes ou encore les femmes victimes de l’Épuration. Grâce à son regard novateur sur la société de l’époque et son influence surréaliste, Lee Miller a su s’émanciper de l’image de la femme trophée (qu’elle a été un temps) pour proposer des images avant-gardistes et qu’il faut absolument découvrir !

L’œuvre de Lee Miller est disponible en ligne : https://www.leemiller.co.uk/

Margaux Nguyen Tang

Entre les Deux : Le Parcours Inspirant de Panayotis Pascot 

Panayotis Pascot, figure maintenant reconnue de l’humour français, est actuellement en tourné dans toute la France pour présenter son nouveau spectacle Entre les deux.

Des débuts précoces à la télévision 

Dès l’âge de treize ans, Panayotis Pascot décide de s’impliquer dans le journalisme en interviewant des célébrités et des personnalités à la sortie de leurs spectacles, comme Gad Elmaleh et Orelsan. Le jeune homme est révélé au grand public dès 2015, âgé seulement de 17 ans, lorsqu’il présente des chroniques hebdomadaires au Petit Journal de Canal+ puis sur Quotidien au sein des équipes de Yann Barthès. Il fait ensuite quelques apparitions cinématographiques, notamment dans Adopte un veuf de François Desagnat.  

Pascot évolue progressivement vers le stand-up en cherchant à explorer des thèmes plus personnels et plus sensibles. 

Presque : un spectacle révélateur 

C’est donc avec un spectacle que Panayotis Pascot acquiert une réelle notoriété : son premier one-man-show Presque est un réel succès et est acclamé par la critique. Pascot y semble mature et vulnérable et se livre sur ses relations familiales et amoureuses avec une sensibilité et une sincérité impressionnante. Le jeune homme s’attaque à des sujets complexes comme la quête de soi, la masculinité et le genre en général, tout en discutant des difficultés d’exprimer ses sentiments, notamment à sa famille.  

La promotion de Presque a été faite sur scène, dans toute la France, devant plus de 100 000 spectateurs. Une captation d’images est même réalisée afin de diffuser Presque sur Netflix, ce qui permet de toucher un public large et international, qui peut apprécier ce style plus psychologique. La réputation artistique de Panayotis Pascot est confirmée et le jeune homme se lance alors dans des projets différents.  

La prochaine fois que tu mordras la poussière : le début de l’écriture

Pascot s’essaye alors à l’écriture avec La prochaine fois que tu mordras la poussière, sorti en août 2023. Pascot y évoque des thèmes profonds et difficiles : sa relation avec son père et l’acceptation de son homosexualité sur fond de longue dépression. Ce livre est rédigé comme un journal intime, où l’écriture est brute, crue et presque violente.  

Fort d’une certaine popularité et de 220 000 exemplaires écoulés, ce roman sera prochainement adapté au théâtre par Paul Pascot, le frère de Panayotis. Le père sera joué par Yann Pradal et le fils par Vassili Schneider. Les représentations se tiendront du 4 novembre 2024 au 6 février 2025 au théâtre de la Porte-Saint-Martin.  

Entre les deux : un nouveau chapitre 

Alors que les dernières représentations pour le spectacle Presque dataient de 2019, le public attendait avec une grande ferveur le retour de Pascot sur scène. L’annonce de son nouveau stand-up Presque est accueillie avec une réelle ferveur par le public, impatient de retrouver l’humoriste. Preuve de ce succès fulgurant, les places pour le rodage au théâtre du Point-Virgule sont écoulées en trente minutes ! Le texte de présentation promet, sans trop en dévoiler, un stand-up utilisant de nouveau l’humour pour parler de sujets complexes. 

“Ça y est, je crois que je suis officiellement un adulte et c’est beaucoup moins excitant que ce qu’on m’avait vendu… L’humour étant la meilleure arme face à la désillusion, j’ai eu envie de faire ce spectacle ! Et si on rigolait ensemble du fait que la vie n’a aucun sens ? Enfin, être enfant c’est magnifique, avoir un enfant ça doit être magnifique, mais entre les deux… Je suis pas sûr de capter le concept.” 

Cinq ans après son premier one-man-show, l’humouriste devrait revenir encore plus mature tout en gardant les techniques qui l’ont fait connaître. La première représentation s’est tenue le 8 octobre et le spectacle sera ensuite présenté dans toute la France, ainsi qu’en Belgique et en Suisse, jusqu’au 25 mai 2025.  

Un hiatus prolifique  

Lors de cette longue pause entre ses deux spectacles, Pascot n’a pas chômé. En plus de l’écriture et de la promotion de son livre La prochaine fois que tu mordras la poussière, Pascot a créé, avec son frère, l’agence de stand-up Mortimer, tenu un rôle dans la série Arte De Grâce, et cocréé la série Enterrement de vie de garçons sur Canal+ en plus d’avoir coproduit et co-écrit l’adaptation en série-télévisée du célèbre jeu Le loup garou avec l’humouriste Fary.  

À seulement 25 ans, Panayotis Pascot a déjà accompli beaucoup, mais il semble que ce ne soit que le début d’une carrière prometteuse. Qu’il s’agisse de stand-up, d’écriture ou de réalisation, cet artiste polyvalent continue de surprendre et d’émouvoir son public, prouvant qu’il est bien plus qu’un simple humoriste. 

Louise Moreau

Why is a Director’s Second Film His Best?

L’Amour ouf. Gilles Lellouche’ second film. The intensity and authenticity of a first film, plus experience and resources.

The first film is a clever mix of intensity and fragility. The most important project of a budding director. The one that has matured in his mind for many years, and which is imbued with his personality, his experiences, his vision of the world. This first film can be the one that propels him to higher spheres, but it can just as easily be the one that puts an end to a career that has barely begun. The director knows that he may not have a second chance, so he puts everything into it, even if it means putting too much into it, for fear of not being able to do it later. His thoughts, his world, the subjects that are close to his heart. François Truffaut made his first film, The 400 Blows, at the age of 27. Without expectations from the public or the studios, he freely and authentically signs a semi-autobiographical film about childhood through his alter ego Antoine Doinel. Simple in appearance, it actually deals with many subjects that are generally little represented, but dear to the author, such as unhappy childhood, rejection, isolation, or the need for emancipation. The film also offers a critical and compassionate look at post-war French society, echoing a need for freedom that Truffaut felt personally as an artist. Spontaneity is also reflected in his experimental way of filming, he uses long sequence shots, fluid camera movements and outdoor shots. However, the early films also suffer from some drawbacks. Experimentation is double-edged, and some viewers may not appreciate the raw style of Truffaut’s hand-held camera. The budget is also a determining factor, if a low budget allows more freedom, it can hold back its director in the completion of his project. David Lynch in his first film Eraserhead must make do with $10,000 and must be cunning to obtain the uneasy atmosphere that he will perfect in the rest of his filmography. These are limited films in terms of sets, costumes and special effects. The author’s vision is also not completely complete, when we look at the filmography of Yorgos Lanthimos, The Lobster or The Favorite are only the beginnings of Poor Things.

Let’s now focus on the more advanced films in a director’s filmography. They have since gained notoriety and thus have a bigger budget and bigger contract. But this goes hand in hand with other elements. Expectations are higher. From the studios’ point of view, they invest more but expect a significant return, because a failure would have serious consequences. They are therefore more cautious about more experimental projects that some directors are sometimes forced to finance out of their own pockets than Coppola’s Megalopolis. The vision is therefore less personal, and more polished, to fit into the format expected by the production studios. Some films are no more than commissioned films whose director executes a specification giving disappointing results as with David Lynch for The Straight Story or Dune. On the other hand, the public’s expectations are difficult to satisfy. After a first success, some spectators may be disappointed if the next one does not correspond to the same style, others will be because it will appear as a pale copy of the previous one. With Tenet, Christopher Nolan wanted to reproduce in excess a well-oiled mechanism with Inception or Interstellar, becoming a caricature of his own style, just like Miyazaki’s last film, The Boy and the Heron, a film embodying the lack and freshness and the difficulty in renewing oneself for an old filmmaker. More recently, with Joker 2, Todd Philippe’s film combines these two flaws, a film responding only to a financial logic, taking up the codes and the universe of the first film, in less good.

So, would the best film be the second? The Godfather, Seven, Pulp Fiction, there is no shortage of examples. These films keep the authenticity and freshness of the first films while having more budgets, without falling into the pitfalls mentioned in the second paragraph. And that is what love few embodies. A budget of 35 million euros, which is substantial for a French film, carried by a 5-star cast with François Civil, Adèle Exarchopoulos. It is numerous sets, choreography, special effects as well as a worked soundtrack that accompany this project. But this ambitious project is also a project that has been germinating in Gilles Lellouche’s head since 2000, and who bought the adaptation rights of the book in 2004. It is a film driven by passion, in which many themes present in his personal life and in his acting career are present, like that of urban life, fraternity and romantic relationships. It is a film that breathes the 80s and 90s, very referenced and personal on music and other cultural elements. It is also a project that offers a richness in form, which tries, which mixes different influences, an explosion of original processes in the service of the story. A very worked image in terms of grain and colorimetry in order to perfectly reflects an atmosphere. All this gives a dynamic, ingenious and personal film, earning him a 17-minute standing ovation at Cannes and a very good reception from the public.

After such a success, some are already impatiently awaiting Gilles Lellouche’s third film, it will be interesting to see if the latter will manage to renew himself, and draw on new inspirations, or if like Matthieu Kassovitz, he will remain forever in the shadow of his second film.


Pourquoi le second film d’un réalisateur est-il son meilleur?

L’Amour ouf. Le second film de Gilles Lellouche. L’intensité et l’authenticité d’un premier film, l’expérience et les moyens en plus.

Le premier film et un savant mélange d’intensité et de fragilité. Le projet le plus important d’un réalisateur en devenir. Celui qui a muri dans son esprit pendant de longues années, et qui est empreint de sa personnalité, de son vécu, de sa vision du monde. Ce premier film peut être celui qui le propulse dans de plus hautes sphères, mais il peut tout aussi bien être celui qui met un terme à une carrière à peine entamé. Le réalisateur sait qu’il n’aura peut-être pas de seconde chance, alors il met tout, quitte à mettre trop, par peur de ne pouvoir le faire plus tard. Ses réflexions, son monde, les sujets qui lui tiennent à cœur. François Truffaut réalise son premier film, les 400 coups à 27 ans. Sans attente du public ni des studios, il signe de manière libre est authentique un film semi-autobiographique sur l’enfance à travers son alter ego Antoine Doinel. D’apparence simple, il traite en réalité de nombreux sujet peu représenté en générale, mais cher à l’auteur, comme l’enfance malheureuse, le rejet, l’isolement, ou encore le besoin d’émancipation. Le film propose également un regard critique et compatissant sur la société française d’après-guerre, faisant écho à un besoin de liberté, que Truffaut ressentait personnellement en tant qu’artiste. La spontanéité se reflète aussi dans sa manière expérimentale de filmer, il utilise de longs plans-séquences, des mouvements de caméra fluides et des plans en extérieur.

Toutefois les premiers films souffrent aussi de certains inconvenants. L’expérimentation est à double tranchant, et certains spectateurs n’apprécieront peut-être pas le style brut de la caméra à l’épaule de Truffaut. Le budget est également un facteur déterminant, si un faible budget permet plus de liberté, il peut refréner son réalisateur dans l’aboutissement de son projet. David Lynch dans son premier film Eraserhead doit se contenter de 10 000 $ et doit ruser pour obtenir l’ambiance malaisante qu’il perfectionnera dans la suite de sa filmographie. Il s’agit de films limités en termes de décors, de costumes et d’effets spéciaux. La vision de l’auteur n’est également pas totalement aboutie, quand on observe la filmographie de Yorgos Lanthimos, The Lobster ou encore La Favorite ne sont que les prémices de Pauvres Créatures.

Attardons-nous maintenant sur les films plus avancés de la filmographie d’un réalisateur. Ils ont alors depuis gagné en notoriété et ont ainsi un plus gros budget et de plus gros contrats. Mais cela va de pair avec d’autres éléments. Les attentes sont plus grandes. Du point de vue des studios, ils investissent plus, mais attendent un rendement conséquent, car un échec aurait de lourdes conséquences. Ils sont ainsi plus frileux concernant des projets plus expérimentaux que certains réalisateurs sont parfois obligés de financer de leur propre poche que Megalopolis de Coppola. La vision est donc moins personnelle, et plus policée, pour rentrer dans le format attendu par les studios de productions. Certains films ne sont plus que des films de commande dont le réalisateur exécute un cahier des charges donnant des résultats décevant comme avec David Lynch pour Une Histoire Vraie ou encore Dune. D’autre part, les attentes du public sont difficiles à satisfaire. Après un premier succès, certains spectateurs peuvent être déçus si le suivant ne correspond pas au même style, d’autres le seront, car il apparaitra comme une pâle copie du précédent. Avec Tenet, Christopher Nolan a voulu reproduire à outrance une mécanique bien huilée avec Inception ou encore Interstellar, devenant une caricature de son propre style, tout comme le dernier film de Miyazaki, Le garçon et le héron, film incarnant le manque, la fraicheur et la difficulté à se renouveler pour un vieux cinéaste. Plus récemment, avec Joker 2, le film de Todd Philippe cumule ces deux défauts, un film répondant uniquement à une logique financière, reprenant les codes et l’univers du premier film, en moins bien.

Le meilleur film serait-il donc le deuxième ? Le Parrain, Seven, Pulp Fiction, les exemples ne manquent pas. Ces films gardent l’authenticité et la fraicheur des premiers films tout en ayant plus de budgets, sans pour autant tomber dans les travers évoqués dans le second paragraphe. Et c’est cela que L’Amour ouf incarne. Un budget de 35 M d’euros ce qui est conséquent pour un film français, porté par une distribution 5 étoiles avec François Civil, Adèle Exarchopoulos. C’est de nombreux décors, chorégraphies, effets spéciaux ainsi qu’une BO travaillée qui accompagne ce projet. Mais ce projet ambitieux, c’est aussi un projet qui germe dans la tête de Gilles Lellouche depuis 2000, et qui a acheté les droits d’adaptation du livre en 2004. C’est un film animé par la passion, dans lequel de nombreuses thématiques présentes dans sa vie personnelle et dans sa carrière d’acteur sont présentes, comme celle de la vie urbaine, la fraternité et les relations amoureuses. C’est un film qui respire les années 80 et 90, très référencés et personnel sur les musiques et autres éléments culturels. C’est aussi un projet qui propose une richesse dans la forme, qui tente, qui mêle différentes influences, une explosion de procédés originaux au service du récit. Une image très travaillée en termes de grain et de colorimétrie afin de refléter parfaitement une ambiance. Le tout donne un film dynamique, ingénieux et personnel, lui valant un standing ovation de 17 minutes à Cannes et un très bon accueil du public.

Après un tel succès, d’aucuns attendent déjà avec impatience le troisième film de Gilles Lellouche, il sera intéressant de voir si ce dernier arrivera à se renouveler, et puiser dans de nouvelles inspirations, où si comme Matthieu Kassovitz, il restera à jamais dans l’ombre de son deuxième film.

Théophile Milliat

How Colours Shape the World of Animated Movies 

France is one of the largest importing and exporting country of animation in the world, with its major studios – such as Fortiche or Illumination – and the massive influence of Japanese culture in the country. But what drives this prominence in animation? Several factors can explain the prevalence of the genre in the French culture, ranging from its innovative plots to its accessibility and its visual appeal. Today’s article will dive deeper into the vital role of colour in animated films and its profound impact on viewers. 

Symbolism 

Colours in animation are a powerful tool to reinforce a film’s message and emotional landscape. Unlike live-action films, where colour palettes may stick more closely to realism, animated filmmakers have the freedom to exaggerate or alter colours to enhance some form of emotional resonance in the audience.  

For example, colour choices can act as emotional cues: 

  • Red often symbolizes passion, love, or anger, making it a popular choice for intense scenes. 
  • Blue, on the other hand, usually represents sadness or calmness, setting a reflective atmosphere. 

Not only do these choices communicate emotions but they also deepen the narrative. A character surrounded by dark shades of blue might suggest their internal struggle and act as a way to enhance the viewer’s empathy. This layered use of colours can transform a simple scene into a rich emotional one. 

Audience Perception and Reception

It is also important to recognize how cultural perceptions of colours vary globally.  

While, as mentioned above, red might signify passion and love in Western cultures, it can represent good fortune and joy in many Asian contexts. Different audiences may interpret colours in completely different ways, according to their personal experiences. Children, being usually more sensitive to bright colours and bold hues, may respond to colours differently than adults, impacting their understanding of the story. This multitude of interpretations enriches the viewing experience and provides an explanation as to why animated movies can be perceived so differently from one person to another, and therefore, enjoyed by all age groups and all cultures.  

A Striking Visual Identity 

In the realm of animated films, colour plays a critical role in establishing a distinct visual identity. The widely acclaimed Japanese Studio Ghibli, for example, is renowned for its unique colour palettes which have become a hallmark for the studio. The use of soft pastel colours combined with dreamy landscapes and charming characters contribute to the overall atmosphere of the movies.  

Take, for instance, Miyazaki’s (co-founder of the Studio Ghibli) latest movie “The Boy and The Heron.” In this film, the colour palette shifts dramatically to reflect the themes of war and trauma. The muted tones emphasize the sombre atmosphere, pulling the audience into the gravity of the story. As the story transitions to more magical elements, the colours brighten and shift, steering viewers away from the harsh realities and inviting them into a whole different world. 

The Example of the Spiderverse Animated Movies 

The Spiderverse animated films are an exemplary case study of colour’s multifaceted role in animation. These films combine unique art styles, innovative shading techniques, and a vibrant colour palette that immerses viewers in a comic-book-like experience. The use of colour goes beyond mere aesthetic purposes; it plays a critical role in character differentiation and emotional storytelling. 

For instance, the strategic use of black and deep purples often indicates danger or malevolence, providing viewers with visual cues that foreshadow plot twists. This use of colour not only enhances the narrative but also engages more seasoned viewers, inviting them to look for deeper meanings and connections throughout the movies. 

Moreover, colour shifts can reflect character emotions with more intensity than words ever could. In moments of overwhelming stress, the colour palette tends to become harsh and dominated by bright, primary colours, mirroring the characters’ anxiety. This technique creates an immersive experience, as the audience can feel the emotional intensity through the visual language. 

Each character is frequently associated with a specific colour scheme that reflects their personality. By intertwining these colours throughout the film, animators manage to visually communicate the dynamics between characters, taking the character development to another level. 

The Future of Colour in Animation 

As animation continues to evolve, so will the use of colour. Advancements in technology, despite being a threat on several different levels, offer filmmakers unprecedented opportunities for innovative and expressive colour choices, allowing for even more nuanced storytelling in animated mediums. 

In summary, colours in animated films do far more than embellishing the screen; they deepen emotional connections, enhance storytelling, and reflect cultural and individual narratives. This multifaceted role of colour shapes how we experience and understand these films, inviting audiences to explore the visual and narrative richness that animation has to offer.

Maëlle Millet 

Musicals: How and why Hollywood lost faith in the musical genre, buried it alive and let it suffocate

Musicals are a part of the Hollywood landscape, many of which are considered classics and must-watch for any aspiring filmmaker. In spite of consistent industry growth, the genre seems to be at an all-time low. A brief look into the decision-making process made by the majors which lead to the sidelining of their star child.

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Born out of Broadway shows and vaudeville theater, musicals have been a staple of cinema in Hollywood since the 1920s. Until the 1960s-70s, the musical was a leading genre, earning both popular and critical acclaim. Many from this era are regarded as classics such as The Wizard of Oz (1939), Singin’ in the Rain (1952), West Side Story (1961), The Sound of Music (1965), and even French masterpieces Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (1964), and Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (1967). The genre has since slowed down, though still carried by Walt Disney animated movies and some grittier, more grounded pictures such as 2003 Oscar winner Chicago

Recently, Internet users have noticed a trend that trailers and promotional content for musicals did not explicitly mention that said films were even musicals. Movies from these past two years such as Joker: Folie à Deux, Emilia Perez, Mean Girls, Wonka and Wicked all contain musical elements but had some moviegoers confused and disappointed when they discovered the movie, they probably paid $20 to watch, was a musical. Why is a genre which once was the go-to family outing and held in high regard by moviegoers and critics alike literally being hidden by major movie studios? And why are they bothering to even produce these movies if they do not believe in their genre’s artistic value? 

The talent

As mentioned earlier, the musical’s roots stem from Broadway shows, meaning that the actors starring in musicals had a background in both singing and dancing. They were formally trained to sing and perform a choreography in one take in the context of a stage play. This translated into some memorable and stunning performances by some of the greats like Judy Garland, Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire. As the years went by, the separation between Broadway actors and movie actors became more prominent, with the Hollywood stars prioritizing their acting skills rather than learning how to sing and dance. La La Land (2016) was lauded for many reasons, but director Damien Chazelle admitted himself that Gosling and Stone were chosen for their chemistry as a romantic duo rather than their singing and dancing abilities.

The cost

The musical is one of the most cost-heavy genres. Handling and maintaining a budget for multiple set pieces, a huge wardrobe and many extras who are expert dancers can often prove to be a real challenge. In fact, one of the reasons the ‘70s experienced a decline in musicals was because many of them resulted in financial flops and huge losses for the studios, thus leading to a fear that the genre was no longer a viable way to make money. Looking for other ways to make money, the majors turned towards other genres.  

The competition

The ‘70s saw the rise of the blockbuster. Spielberg’s Jaws (1975) and Lucas’ Star Wars (1977) shook the Hollywood landscape. Some movies (and later franchises) would prove to be absolute cash cows for studios. Those movies could attract people of all ages and all backgrounds and thus bring in amounts of money never seen before in the cinema landscape. Unfortunately for musicals, they were not among the genres considered as bankable or “blockbuster-able”. The musical was, by then, seen as old-fashioned, the crowds preferring grittier, more realistic stories. 

Today, the action and fantasy/superhero genres dominate the market. However, biopics are also proving to be extremely reliable ways to rake in cash. When people go to the movies or turn Netflix on to watch the story of their favorite musician, their thirst for on-screen music is quenched. 

The target audience

By the time the ‘90s rolled around, the musical genre had been through a rough patch. But it would experience somewhat of a resurgence, as Walt Disney Studios produced some of the best animated movies of the decade in a musical format (The Little Mermaid, 1989, Aladdin, 1992, The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993 – under child company Touchstone, The Lion King, 1994). This may have created an association between movies targeted towards children and the musical genre. In fact, the millennial generation undoubtedly associates Disney and musicals as this is what they grew up on. Trying to sell a musical to an entire generation that only considers the genre as something made for children feels pointless and honestly suicidal to any studio in the 21st century.

The writing

To produce a successful blockbuster, it must have a good script. Not excellent, not groundbreaking, just good will do. To produce a good musical, it should have a good script, about ten good songs AND one excellent song. There are fewer people capable of coming up with this many ideas, both narrative and musical as opposed to those trained solely to write stories. Similarly to finding stars capable of acting, singing and dancing, it is just more difficult to find people who will write a compelling musical.

Marketing

The major Hollywood studios are mainly in search of profit, not artistic perfection. Attempting to write and/or produce a movie designed to earn two to five times its production budget is a difficult endeavor. For the reasons above, making a musical is both more difficult and less well received by the public. As such, even when they have produced said musicals, studios have tended to shy away from showcasing any musical element in the promotional material surrounding their movies. A major culprit in this trend is Disney’s Frozen (2013) which was not marketed as a musical and ended up earning over $1 billion while also having amazingly successful songs. This is a huge double-edged sword: tricking your audience into going to a musical when many people have profound hate for the genre seems like a huge risk for a reward which is not actually that big. 

Hollywood is also seeing an increasing amount of blockbusters inspired from previously existing intellectual property, whether it be books, video games, reboots, sequels, prequels and franchises. Musicals are suffering greatly from this trend, perhaps even more so than other genres. As they represent a higher risk than traditional big budget films, attaching IP (intellectual property) previously known to the public is a way to ensure a better return on investment and to reduce the chance of a movie flopping. Among the five films mentioned in the introduction, only Emilia Perez is a 100% original piece.  

The Bottom line

The change in landscape since the 1970s has greatly affected the output of major Hollywood studios. Similarly to the musical, other genres such as comedy, romantic comedy and science fiction have also suffered a huge drop in releases. A combination of lack of ideas, the search for bankability, and less importance given to the search for artistic identity have all led to a funneling of ideas. The big releases are relying more and more on fantasy action genres, existing IP and big-name stars to carry the movie industry’s big players.

But like in the ‘90s, a resurgence of mid budget movies and auteur cinema may very well be on the way. With the rise and saturation of streaming platforms along with some recent major flops, studios may very well place more of their trust in a new generation of creatives, ready to revive some of the lost genres of past decades. 

Colin Lhernould

Sincerity, Disenchantment, and The Wild Robot (opinion)

The moments the credits rolled in DreamWorks’ latest film, The Wild Robot, I overheard someone complain about the “power of love”. They felt like the ending was too cheesy and how the resolution was forced “just because of love”. Those passing remarks were not the first time I’d thought about “love” as a resolution in film.

Contriteness is a valid cinematic critique that can undermine an entire story by pulling the reader out of the narrative if they feel like its resolution has not been sufficiently built up. This, however, could not be further from the truth. While I will avoid spoilers on the specific scene, the movie themes about humanity, identity, individuality, and love coalesce in the resolution of this particular moment in the film. What may feel like an out-of-nowhere deus ex machina instead represents the culmination of the movie’s arguments: the very thesis it puts forth about what it means to love and care for someone else.

And yet, it gets dismissed as a “power of love” plot device.

It would be one thing if they simply disliked that particular type of plot device. However, I could hear the subtle aversion, followed by a sneer. Right after, I noticed their friends roll their eyes and echo the sentiment.

The Disillusioned Market

It may seem like such a small detail to focus on, but this dismissal of the writer’s sincerity as something “cheesy”, and therefore not worth serious thought, reflects a larger trend, not only in Hollywood, but in society at large. Since the 1990s, there has been an emerging culture that considers itself “too cool to care”.

What once rooted itself in punk protestations against societal expectations was then co-opted by mass marketing. Most of us old enough to have lived in an Anglo-Saxon sphere between the late 90s to early 2000s remember archetypes of “skaters” and “punks” who wore low jeans and were “way too cool to care”.

As marketing further tries to personify itself and relates to the users, despite increasingly consumer hostile, economically turbulent efforts on their end to raise prices and gouge profits, consumers develop their own counter-culture once again: a cynical approach that would not let itself be fooled into believing anything on the market could ever sell a modicum of “honesty” ever again.

Yet, as the counter-culture rejects marketed attempts at “personability”, it also dismisses any attempts at a sincere moment, not between product and consumer, but between art, artist, and viewer.

AI, Robots, and the “Human Touch”

Ironically, with the rise of AI capable of image generation and voice replication, the principles of “authenticity” and “humanity” become all the more important. Amidst these controversial times, DreamWorks could not have chosen a more topical film: a movie that frames the question of humanity and sincerity through a vessel which invokes so much dread and uncertainty. The Wild Robot opens with a critique of consumerism. Its titular character is herself a discarded product. She approaches life as “fulfilling her mission” much as we consumers approach things for their “function” and “value”.

By the end of the film, she comes to see life as so much more than a mission to fulfill. The entire time, the movie never relents from its message against our mindless consumerism, yet it refuses to let go of its sincere heart and genuine attempts at emotional connection.

It asks us to ponder and reflect on these things that made the main character human, yet never once does it call attention to its own premise or step away to belittle it. There is no reliance on irony. There is no subtle shame towards its own story. The movie never has the main character tell us, the audience, how ridiculous it is that a robot lives in the wilderness and learns to love. It sticks to its thematic heart, and it embraces it fully without fear of cheesiness or melodrama.

Programmed for More

Much as the main character learns to break away from her programming, The Wild Robot asks us to examine what we have been programmed to do and believe in our day-to-day. When it comes to culture, to hobbies, and to anything that exits the traditional, capitalist “job sphere”, we are asked to examine its value and whether it can bring us “revenue”. Undertaking something as simple as learning a new skill has become synonymous with whether it can be spun off into a new business. “Entrepreneurship” has become our new programming, just as Roz, the titular wild Robot, was programmed by Universal Dynamics to serve.

We have become servants to the market. We have chained ourselves to value and to coin. Our ironic attempt to reject a false humanity has become the very cage by which we lock out genuine sincerity.

But we can choose to change the outcome.

To Reclaim Our Destiny

The market does not make people; people make the market. Likewise, things do not make us; we make things. Our media often reflects our values as a society. As these growing trends continue to idolize insincerity, we, as consumers, have an obligation to react with authenticity and a genuine passion. Roz was able to grow from her programming into something honest and genuine. If a machine, cold and distant, is able to break free from its shackles, it stands to reason that we can as well.

To you, reader, I can only ask that you try and discard these feelings of embarrassment. Embrace yourself wholly and with an honest heart. It was never “cool” to not like something; it was only ever easier to hide away our passion than to show it, bare and vulnerable, to the great, unfeeling world.

No great works live without passion, and no great lives are devoid of it either. Find your inner wild robot, and embrace something beyond the programming of expectations.

For more information about the movie : https://www.imdb.com/title/tt29623480/


Sincérité, Désenchantement et Le Robot Sauvage (opinion)

Dès l’instant où les crédits ont marqué la fin du dernier film de DreamWorks, Le Robot Sauvage, j’ai entendu quelqu’un se plaindre du « pouvoir de l’amour ». Selon eux, la fin était trop cliché, « cheesy », et la résolution forcée « juste à cause de l’amour ». L’utilisation de clichés peut être une critique valable dans un film. Cela risque de déchirer l’immersion du spectateur s’il a l’impression que la résolution n’a pas été correctement construite.

Cependant, cette critique est ici totalement infondée. Déjà, il y a un certain cynisme de voir l’amour et la sincérité comme un cliché. Hors de cela, sans dévoiler la scène en question, cette résolution rejoint parfaitement les thèmes du film sur l’humanité, l’identité, l’individualité et l’amour. Ce qui pourrait sembler être un deus ex machina inattendu représente en réalité l’aboutissement des arguments du film : la thèse même sur ce que signifie d’aimer et de se rapprocher l’un de l’autre.

Et pourtant, cette conclusion se trouve rejetée comme un simple ressort narratif du « pouvoir de l’amour ».

Ce ne serait qu’une simple critique si la personne avait juste exprimé une préférence contre ce type de dispositif. Mais j’ai ressenti une sorte d’aversion subtile, suivie d’un ricanement. Peu après, j’ai vu ses amis rouler leurs yeux et répéter la même idée.

Le désenchantement envers le marché

Cela peut paraître un détail insignifiant, mais ce rejet de la sincérité du scénariste en tant que quelque chose de « cheesy », donc indigne d’une réflexion sérieuse, reflète une tendance plus large, non seulement chez Hollywood, mais aussi dans la société générale.

Depuis les années 1990, une culture émerge, se considérant « trop cool pour s’en soucier ». Ce qui, à l’origine, était enraciné dans la protestation punk contre les attentes de la société a été récupéré par le marketing de masse. Ceux d’entre nous qui ont vécu dans une sphère anglo-saxonne entre la fin des années 90 et le début des années 2000 se souviendront des archétypes de « skaters » et de « punks » qui portaient des jeans taille basse et étaient « trop cools pour s’en préoccuper ».

Ce marketing en question s’est efforcé de plus en plus à se personnaliser pour attirer les consommateurs, tout en masquant des tentatives hostiles pour augmenter les prix et gonfler leurs bénéfices. En revanche, une contre-culture s’est développée. Les consommateurs adoptaient donc une approche cynique qui refuse de croire qu’une marque de produit puisse encore incarner une once de « sincérité ».

Cependant, en rejetant les tentatives de « personnalité » du marketing, cette contre-culture a fini par rejeter toute tentative de moment sincère. Désormais, elle ne laisse plus aucune place aux connexions honnêtes : non celles entre produit et consommateur, mais entre l’art, l’artiste et le spectateur.

IA, Robots et « l’influence humaine »

Ironiquement, à l’heure où l’intelligence artificielle devient capable de générer des images et de répliquer des voix humaines, les questions d’authenticité et d’humanité deviennent également plus importantes. Pendant cette période controversée, DreamWorks n’aurait pu choisir un sujet plus pertinent: un film qui propose une réflexion sur ce qui nous rend humains et de la sincérité authentique à travers un personnage dont son archétype suscite à la fois la peur et l’incertitude.

Le Robot Sauvage, toutefois, persiste dans sa critique du consumérisme. Le personnage principal, « Roz », est elle-même un produit rejeté. Elle aborde la vie comme une « mission à accomplir », tout comme nous abordons les choses pour leur « fonction » et leur « valeur ».

À la fin du film, elle arrive à voir la vie comme bien plus qu’une mission. Tout au long du film, le message contre notre consumérisme aveugle est clair. Cependant, cet ouvrage ne renonce jamais à son cœur sincère et à ses tentatives honnêtes de connexion émotionnelle. Le film nous amène à réfléchir sur ce qui rend le personnage principal humain. Jamais, par contre, ne souligne-t-il l’absurdité de son scénario; il n’existe aucune ironie. Il n’y a aucune honte discrète face à sa propre histoire. Le film n’arrête jamais l’histoire pour faire appel à quel point il est absurde qu’un robot vivant parmi les animaux puisse apprendre à aimer.

Rompre les chaînes de nos programmations

Tout comme le personnage principal apprend à se libérer de sa programmation, Le Robot Sauvage nous invite à examiner ce que nous sommes programmés à faire et à croire au quotidien. Qu’il s’agisse de culture, de loisirs, ou de toute activité, tout ce qui tombe dehors de la sphère capitaliste « professionnelle » demande d’être évalué en termes économiques. L’« entrepreneuriat » est devenu notre nouvelle programmation, tout comme « Roz », le robot sauvage, était programmée par Universal Dynamics pour servir.

Nous sommes devenus des serviteurs du marché. Nous nous sommes enchaînés à la valeur et à l’argent. Notre tentative ironique de rejeter une fausse humanité est devenue la cage même qui nous empêche d’exprimer une sincérité véritable.

Maintenant, il est temps de rompre ces chaînes.

L’avenir est notre propre destin

Ce n’est pas le marché qui créer les gens; ce sont les gens qui créer le marché. De même, nous ne sommes pas nos objets; nous sommes leurs fabricants. Nos médias reflètent souvent nos valeurs sociétales. Alors que ces tendances continuent à idolâtrer l’insincérité, nous, en tant que consommateurs, avons l’obligation de réagir avec authenticité et passion, tout comme « Roz » a réussi à dépasser sa programmation pour devenir quelque chose de vrai et sincère. Si une machine, froide et distante, peut s’affranchir de ses chaînes, il va de soi que nous le pouvons aussi.

À vous, lecteur, je demande simplement de laisser de côté ces sentiments d’embarras. Acceptez-vous pleinement et avec un cœur honnête. Il n’a jamais été « cool » de ne pas être passionné; il a toujours été plus facile de cacher notre passion que de l’exposer, nue et vulnérable, au grand monde insensible.

Aucune grande œuvre ne vit sans passion, et aucune grande vie n’en est dépourvue non plus. Trouvez votre propre robot sauvage, et incarnez quelque chose qui dépasse la programmation des attentes.

Pour plus d’informations sur le film : https://www.imdb.com/title/tt29623480/

Hao Wen Liu