The Child In Cinema

This book brings together a host of internationally recognised scholars to provide an interdisciplinary perspective on the representation of the child in cinema. Individual chapters examine how children appear across a broad range of films, including Badlands (1973), Ratcatcher (1999), Boyhood (2014), My Neighbour Totoro (1988), and Howl's Moving Castle (2004). They also consider the depiction of children in non-fiction and non-theatrical films, including the documentaries Être et Avoir (2002) and Capturing the Friedmans (2003), art installations and public information films. Through a close analysis of these films, contributors examine the spaces and places children inhabit and imagine; a concern for children's rights and agency; the affective power of the child as a locus for memory and history; and the complexity and ambiguity of the child figure itself. The essays also argue the global reach of cinema featuring children, including analyses of films from the former Yugoslavia, Brazil and India, as well as exploring the labour of the child both in front of and behind the camera as actors and filmmakers. In doing so, the book provides an in-depth look into the nature of child performance on screen, across a diverse range of cinemas and film-making practices.

This book brings together a host of internationally recognised scholars to provide an interdisciplinary perspective on the representation of the child in cinema. Individual chapters examine how children appear across a broad range of films, including Badlands (1973), Ratcatcher (1999), Boyhood (2014), My Neighbour Totoro (1988), and Howl's Moving Castle (2004). They also consider the depiction of children in non-fiction and non-theatrical films, including the documentaries Être et Avoir (2002) and Capturing the Friedmans (2003), art installations and public information films. Through a close analysis of these films, contributors examine the spaces and places children inhabit and imagine; a concern for children's rights and agency; the affective power of the child as a locus for memory and history; and the complexity and ambiguity of the child figure itself. The essays also argue the global reach of cinema featuring children, including analyses of films from the former Yugoslavia, Brazil and India, as well as exploring the labour of the child both in front of and behind the camera as actors and filmmakers. In doing so, the book provides an in-depth look into the nature of child performance on screen, across a diverse range of cinemas and film-making practices.

What is the child for Latin American cinema? This book aims to answer that question, tracing the common tendencies of the representation of the child in the cinema of Latin American countries, and demonstrating the place of the child in the movements, genres and styles that have defined that cinema. Deborah Martin combines theoretical readings of the child in cinema and culture, with discussions of the place of the child in specific national, regional and political contexts, to develop in-depth analyses and establish regional comparisons and trends. She pays particular attention to the narrative and stylistic techniques at play in the creation of the child's perspective, and to ways in which the presence of the child precipitates experiments with film aesthetics. Bringing together fresh readings of well-known films with attention to a range of little-studied works, The Child in Contemporary Latin American Cinema examines films from the recent and contemporary period, focussing on topics such as the death of the child in ‘street child’ films, the role of the child in post-dictatorship filmmaking and the use of child characters to challenge gender and sexual ideologies. The book also aims to place those analyses in a historical context, tracing links with important precursors, and paying attention to the legacy of the child’s figuring in the mid-century movements of melodrama and the New Latin American Cinema.

This book illustrates how global horror film images of children re-conceptualised childhood at the beginning of the twenty-first century, unravelling the child's long entrenched binding to ideologies of growth, futurity, and progress. The Uncanny Child in Transnational Cinema analyses an influential body of horror films featuring subversive depictions of children that emerged at the beginning of the twenty-first century, and considers the cultural conditions surrounding their emergence. The book proposes that complex cultural and industrial shifts at the turn of the millennium resulted in potent cinematic renegotiations of the concept of childhood. In these transnational films-largely stemming from Spain, Japan, and America-the child resists embodying growth and futurity, concepts to which the child's symbolic function is typically bound. By demonstrating both the culturally specific and globally resonant properties of these frightening visions of children who refuse to grow up, the book outlines the conceptual and aesthetic mechanisms by which long entrenched ideologies of futurity, national progress, and teleological history started to waver at the turn of the twenty-first century.

This volume offers compelling analyses of children and childhood in non-Western films.

Vicky Lebeau investigates how films use children to probe such themes as sexuality, death, imagination, the terrors of childhood, and hope.

In this, the first full-length treatment of the child in Spanish cinema, Sarah Wright explores the ways that the cinematic child comes to represent 'prosthetic memory'. The central theme of the child and the monster is used to examine the relationship of the self to the past, and to cinema. Focusing on the films from the 1950s to the present day, the book explores religious films, musicals, 'art-house horror', science fiction, social realism and fantasy in Spanish film and includes reference to Erice's The Spirit of The Beehive, del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth, Mañas's El Bola and the Marisol films. The book draws on a century of filmmaking in Spain and also intersects with recent revelations concerning the horrors of the Spanish past. The child is a potent motif for the loss of historical memory and for its recuperation through cinema. This book is suitable for scholars and undergraduates working in the area of Spanish cinema, Spanish cultural studies, and cinema studies.

Photographs of missing children are some of the most haunting images of contemporary Western society. Wilson contends that the loss of a child is perceived as a limit-experience in contemporary cinema, where filmmakers attempt to transform their means of representation as a response to acute pain and horror. She explores the representation of missing and endangered children in a number of the key films of the last decade, including Kieslowski's Three Colours: Blue, Atom Egoyan's Exotica, Todd Solondz's Happiness, Jane Campion's The Portrait of a Lady, Lars von Trier's The Kingdom, and Almodovar's All About My Mother.