And though Rocha sees the fight for Brazilian subjectivity as a struggle between religion (as represented by St. George) and armed struggle (by Corisco—both killed by the “authoritarian” Antonio das Mortes), Salles’ vision picks up the story years later where the fight for Brazilian’s subjectivity has already been won: Josué’s (or Manoel Jr.) mind is already colonized by television and given over to religious feeling. Dora’s first impulse after she “sells” Josué (i.e. mortgages “the future” to the Americans) is to buy a TV set so she can clutter her brain with mindless pap.
For Josué there is no Sao Sebastiao nor a Corisco to focus his centre: he must somehow create one or find one. The metaphor of the toy top shows us how at the beginning of the film when Josué begins to search for the Father and he loses the top, he loses his ‘societal gyroscope’ and he doesn’t recover it until the end of the movie, when he makes his own in his brothers’ workshop in the sertão. This location is yet another instance of parallelism with Deus eo Diabo na Terra do Sol. Manoel’s workshop is also constructed of wooden branches and both possess lathe like machinery. Manoel’s slices manioc root for a subsistence meal whereas the two brothers use it, supposedly for the generation of manufactured wealth i.e. the creation of their “societal gyroscope.” It is by the metaphor of the top that we understand that through work—making tops for everyone or arbeit macht freiheit—the entire country will be able to re-experience the freedom Josué knew as a child in Rio and regain its center. It is “satisfying” to see Josué so happy and at ease in the workshop: the creator of the universe spent most of his human life as a craftsman, working with his father in the family business and ultimately taking it over. [18]
The Corisco spirit of rebelliousness is virtually non-existent in Josué: it consists of calling Dora (a variation on Rosa?) a no-good liar and a breaker of promises and the expression of disgust at Dora for not mailing the letters. And though Rocha at least envisages the possibility of armed struggle or “banditry” as an option, Central do Brasil takes religion (Sao Sebastiao) as its point of stability and bearing, replicating the developing country’s conflict between industrialization –Cesar– and commercialism –Signor Béné– and tradition –Dora. [19] Industry and commercialism are false prophets as portrayed by Cesar (a latter-day Corisco riding his white steed festooned with evangelical slogans preaching industry) and Signor Béné as the retailer (preaching the gospel of commercialism). Yet both Josué and Dora shoplift from Béné while Cesar is in on the game—like the scene of pillage and plunder in the house. All of this points at Cesar as a stand-in for Corisco, especially when we see him as a solitary silhouette on the stony surface of the sertão.
In contrast, the Sao Sebastiao drive for spiritual salvation works its power through Dora. To realize her destiny and renegotiate her contract with what Salles sees as the real Brazil, Dora’s self-fulfillment in self-giving happens at the Pentecostal celebration which is associated with the celebration of God’s creation of His people and their religious history. Dora regains her faith in humanity (Brazilian society) through her miraculous transformation in the Casa dos Miracles and the exorcism of her moroseness, indifference and cynicism (a trait left over from Cinema Nôvo). The fact that she burns Josué’s mother’s handkerchief shows that she’s a believer—not necessarily as a Christian but perhaps of a traditional syncretic religion—and thus a person of faith.
The Export of Coconut Milk in Coca-Cola Bottles
In melodrama there is a moral, wish-fulfilling impulse towards the achievement of justice which gives popular culture its strength and appeal as the powerless yet virtuous seek to return to the “innocence” of their origins. [20] As a result, melodrama is structured upon the “dual recognition” of how things are and how they should be. As Linda Williams posits, “Melodrama is the best example of American culture’s (often hypocritical) notion of itself as the locus of innocence and virtue.” [21] And Salles’ take on it is bang on, hypocrisy and all. Where melodrama differs from realism is in its will to force the status quo to yield signs of moral legibility within the limits of the “ideologically permissible.” [22]
From the opening sequence, the film establishes its complicity with the sentimental and compassionate discourse of liberal reformers [23]—this is carried out by the location, the background characters loitering around Dora’s stall, and the illiterate “masses” seeking her services. Establishing the necessity of helplessness in the characters for the melodrama to work feeds the psychological helplessness of the viewer. One expects that Dora is on the verge of a political awakening after Josué’s mother is killed, when the ever vigilant Pedrao approaches Josué to take care of business, and Dora intercedes on Josué’s behalf, but this is just the set-up for her big sell-out. The melodrama is so “in your face” that the viewer is blinded to the social thematics.” [24]
Nostalgia for a lost innocence associated with the maternal suffuses this film. Pathos arises, most fundamentally, from the audience’s awareness of this loss [25] but the cinematic representation of a socially disenfranchised child picked up by Dora functions as a kind of ideological cover-up for the failure of Brazil’s government to provide relief for the needy. [26] And in the same way that the on-lookers at the site of the shooting fail to react to the killing—witnessing and failing to act—Salles becomes part of the problem of the erosion of social responsibility. Melodrama camouflages alienation with expressivity and thereby masks or displaces the real conditions of existence. [27]
“In Sao Sebastiao and his followers, hunger, ignorance and misery fire up a madness which impels them to human sacrifice; the cangaceiro Corisco, to whose band Manuel joins after Sao Sebastiao and his group are destroyed, hunger, ignorance and misery foment an insatiable, systematically demoniacal ferocity. Thus Sao Sebastiao and Corisco represent God and the Devil both deformed and disturbed by the desolateness of the sertão. As usual, the solution to the social problems represented by Sao Sebastiao and Corisco is entrusted to the infallible gun sights of Antonio das Mortes, professional killer, sinister figure, a melancholy and visionary killer, that imagines that once God (Sao Sebastiao) and the Devil (Corisco) are eliminated, there will be a liberation war which will redeem the sertão. So Antonio das Mortes shoots the prophet and the bandit. Manuel, as a symbol of the Brazilian people, escapes as living testimony to the truth of the film’s thesis.” [28]
In Central do Brasil there is none of this. There is no hunger—at every turn of the road there is someone stuffing their face (literally); spiritually, everyone’s sated by religion; there is no misery except for the suffering brought on by pining for the absent father; poverty is taken for granted and deemed natural—they are disenfranchised and poor because they are; hence, there is no need for class struggle. Apparently, there are no social problems in Brazil unless you go out of your way to find them, and Salles’ vesting the drama with emotions does a great job of white-washing the social reality, that’s why Dora and Josué have to rely on luck and the kindness of strangers for food and to get them to where they want to go. Viewers are asked to leave their brains at the coat check and to open themselves to the total experience of bourgeois cinema: i.e. the over-emphasizing and playing on the deep-seated emotional fears and desires of the audience at the expense of their critical intelligence. [29]
Instead of producing a film depicting the Brazilian condition (uniquely for internal consumption) as advocated by the original proponents of Cinema Nôvo, Salles has produced a film which from a bourgeois standpoint works as a complete and satisfying experience and marketable worldwide, but where the secondary meanings are lost to mass markets. (This is why most foreign critics who see through the primary level melodrama find the film such an unsatisfying experience—they can’t decipher the underlying Brazilian references.) Cinema Nôvo filmmakers would create fubu films which they would not allow to be compromised in any way by foreign interests to the point that when Rocha got a production contract with Universal Studios, Andrade accused him of selling out and wanted to shoot him with a gun. As Rocha predicted, “our possible liberation will probably come in the form of a new dependency.” [30]
Salles works hand in hand with foreign financing and formats his stories to make his films as attractive as possible to first world distributors and audiences. Though his films are small-time, almost marginal films, in the eyes of Hollywood, Salles hedges his bets by doing the Sundance Institute script workshop, “which educates filmmakers in the market realities of a high-concept plot and happy ending” [31] to make his product as attractive as possible to a first-world mass market. But be careful what you ask for! “By letting himself be emotionally moved by the cinema—and even demanding that cinema should be emotionally moving—the filmgoer puts himself at the mercy of anyone who comes along with a lot of money to invest, in seeing to it that filmgoers are moved. And the people who have that kind of money also have a vested interest in making sure that the audiences are moved in the right direction—that is, in the direction of perpetuating the investors advantageous position in an economic system which permits gross inequities in the distribution of wealth.” [32] A film like Central do Brasil will be marketed as an indie production with exotic cachet in the art-house market or in a limited wide release but it will then have to vie for viewers next to block-buster productions. “When Central do Brasil came out, 550 screens out of 700 were taken up by Titanic and then by The Man in the Iron Mask.” [33]
Salles succeeds in bottling coconut milk in coca-cola bottles: a well produced, well shot, Third-world story with high-production values, with situations that would assuage the guilty consciences of the First World and flatter their open-mindedness, while soft-peddling liberalism couched as lefty politics with turbo-charged melodrama to sugarcoat the pill. But in sugar-coating the pill “the Latin American neither communicates his real misery to the ‘civilized’ European, nor does the European truly comprehend the misery of the Latin American.” [34] And like Godard reproaches Rocha for having a ‘producer’s mentality’ for thinking too much in so-called ‘practical’ terms of distribution, markets, etc. in Salles’ case the wolf is dressed in sheep’s clothing—he willingly embraces and perpetuates the capitalist structures of cinema and deepens their hold on the Third World and in the process, neglects urgent theoretical questions that must be asked if Third World cinema is to avoid merely repeating the ideological errors of Western Cinema. [35] But how can one criticize the humanist message and its collection of international prizes?
Salles feeds the hunger of the First World by producing a film that instead of raising the political awareness of the general misery, “the foreign onlooker cultivates the taste of that misery, not as a tragic symptom, but merely as an aesthetic object within his field of interest.” [36] Under the guises of colonialising the foreign market, Salles is canibalising his own people and their condition. Salles satisfies that hunger for all that is exotic and picturesque in underdeveloped countries—and exports the image the First World has created of the Third World. [37] You want Carmen Miranda? How many would you like? Here’s the bill, thank you very much. “For the European observer the process of artistic creation in the underdeveloped world is of interest only insofar as it satisfies a nostalgia for primitivism,” [38] and Salles provides the goods: he’s aiding and abetting Colonialismo Nôvo.
Catering to the foreign market would also require the use of more advanced projection technology for theatrical release and this would work against small-time independent domestic theatrical exhibitors while strengthening the major chains. [39] The use of cinema-scope/wide-screen film “aided in the retention of the oligopoly. More specifically, ‘Scope helped reshape film for the diminished market through a strong differentiation from both television and the conventional Academy format film” [40] so that only the big chains would make money during the lucrative first run. Using the wide-screen format also has ideological implications. To some, a wide-screen film implies the increased realism of the image, the feeling of engulfment that makes the viewer lose awareness of the frame and the fact that the world presented is an illusion. It lends reality, realism, to what is presented on screen.” [41] But while proclaiming to be a more real experience, CinemaScope plays the artifice better. And for the Cinema Nôvo aesthetic which habitually used distanciation effects to make the viewer more aware of the inherent manipulation of images, the lessened aesthetic distance produced by CinemaScope was a bad thing in that it would draw the viewer into the spectacle rather than the didactic aspects; and also limit film access to the people that need to see it most. However, the subsequent release on VHS or DVD would have the desired positive effect of loosening the grip of the major TV broadcasters on the minds of its viewers.
Religious Allegory
Although Central do Brasil appears to function perfectly well for most viewers as a story for its own sake, the film also functions well as a Christian allegory. This other level of meaning documents a movement from skepticism (a natural response to the absurd, transitory situation of human existence) to faith (brought forth not by a compelling and self-validating religious experience, but by the very absence of the savior who is sought). [42] And even though it “was not widely viewed as religious, Central do Brasil invites a theological reading as the story of human beings struggling to maintain a relationship to an absent God.” [43]
It’s clear that in the context of the plot, Dora is the Virgin—she has no father, no husband, no children—and Josué is the child—and from the constant repetition of the Virgin and Child images. But if Deus é Brasileiro (God is Brazilian, Carlos Diegues, 2003) where is he? From the start, the boy is looking to complete the picture with a father—his mother goes to Dora for the boy’s sake. And after his mother is killed, he wants to write a letter to his father but is frustrated by Dora because she feels that given the social climate of Brazil, finding the father will be impossible. By looking for a “real” father —that is for a father in the shared working-class environment of the bus— they are looking in the wrong place for the source. Pedrao (representing evil against the divine) is the first suitor to possibly fit the bill, but he is obviously not the right candidate. For both characters, the truck driver César (representing the world in contrast to the divine) seems a hopeful candidate for that missing role. But César leaves while Dora is putting on lipstick in the bathroom, while a distant voice sings “How Great Thou Art.” [44] Then they literally try to complete the picture with the father when Josué and Dora have their picture taken with the “Saint” in Bom Jesus da Norte. It’s not only a record of the happiness of that moment but serves to underline the concept of father as a myth created for the purpose of keeping everything together. Only at the end of the film do we get to understand that the fount of hope is Josué—the son of God—and Josué is the future of Brazil.
But they have not yet found the father and must continue on their quest. Even the Estrela do Norte bus line name serves as a pointer in the direction of the birth of Christ. The man inhabiting the first house they visit in the town is named Jesse (a reference to King David’s father and Jesus’ ancestor); he points the way to Jesus—God the Father. When they finally reach Jesus’ house, there is a painting on the wall of father, mother and child – the first time Josué has seen a trinity rather than the Virgin-Child duality. [45] Moisés and Isaías, the sons of Jesus in the film, have the names of Hebrew prophets who, in the Christian interpretation of the Old Testament, foretold and prefigured the coming of Jesus. Here they, too, are characterized as Jesus’ sons; they work in their father’s carpentry shop turning out furniture, though they do not consider themselves the equal of Jesus who built their house. [46] Yet the father does not show up or can’t be found or will be coming back at some future date. Given his absence, the other characters in the film are free to decide for themselves how they will view him. Josué clings to his heroic conception of his father as the leader of a family; Dora embellishes Ana’s brief description with details about Jesus’ drinking and physical abuse; Moisés has become so comfortable with his hatred of his absent father that he does not want his image shattered by Jesus’ words in the letter; and Isaias is full of hope the father will return. So Jesus’ absence forces all the characters to determine the relationship with God the Father for themselves. [47]
Dora’s final response of faith—an adult appropriation of Josué’s continual childlike faith—is only meaningful in light of this absence. Even the letter from Jesus is not enough hard evidence to compel belief. Dora’s life has provided her with a mass of hard, incontrovertible evidence that points toward withholding faith and trust as the only sane way of living. Yet as she and Josué follow the void that Jesus (God the Father) has left, she is convinced by the absence as she could not have been by the presence. [48]
Dora as Josué’s (The Lord) Handmaid
Dora’s character complements the religious allegorical interpretation of Central do Brasil. Within the film, Salles underlines that Dora is a woman and that there is no denying the differences between her and the male aspects of the narrative. From the get go, she understands and challenges the use of the word “pussy” and the sexuality of her illiterate patrons in a different way than any man or boy would. Her feelings are “awakened” by Josué’s precariousness after his mother’s death—she’s too well aware of what happens to abandoned children. She reacts as a mother when she hears that Josué is at the “baby-mill” ready for the chop-shop or when she feeds him and takes him home with her. Motherhood modeled after the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary, [49] signals the co-operation in the birth of the divine Logos in the human heart where he can grow and be nurtured in the concrete circumstances of family life. [50]
But her female nature is also evident in how Salles is so eager to separate/demarcate the two sexes—when Josué and Dora emerge from the washrooms at the first bus stop/gas station, when she puts the move on Cesar or when she goes to bed with Josué in the Pagador de Promesas Hotel in Bom Jesus da Norte, Salles wants to keep the two of them apart so that there is no confusion of characters between the Virgin Mary and Baby Josué, that they are both interpreted as separate elements. Josué is her crutch and at the same time her force motrice.
We are invited to establish parallels of identity between Dora and the Virgin Mary. In virtue of her special bond with Mary, woman has often in the course of history represented God’s closeness to the expectations of goodness and tenderness of a humanity wounded by hatred and sin, by sowing in the world seeds of a civilization that can respond to violence with love. [51] Her “yes” to accepting the stewardship of Josué’s destiny becomes “the Good News for the whole of humanity” or at least for Brazil’s future. [52] Mary’s self-determination is realized in dependence/inter-dependence of a creature to her creator. Through the progressive emptying—assimilation of her mission— she reaches her ultimate vocation. [53]
Conclusion
Central do Brasil is so intent on making the viewer feel compassion for its characters and share their pathos that in its rush to get to the sertão, it leaves its Cinema Nôvo and neo-realist baggage behind.
Looking at the film from a bourgeois perspective, the film “satisfies” as a melodrama, but if you scratch the surface the left-wing, neo-realist bent does not take and neither does the Cinema Nôvo imagery. The references to Cinema Nôvo and specifically to Rocha’s Deus eo Diabo na Tera do Sol attempt to undermine the original precepts and concerns of the original films, but analysis reveals their shortcomings. Salles’ nostalgic self-reflection is “onanistic, solipsistic, or cannibalistic.” [54]
Central do Brasil makes itself want to be seen as a ‘political film’ and when one does look at it as such, one can only come to the conclusion that whether you’re coming or going, it will always be found on the right side of the tracks. Italian Neo-realist melodrama and its over-the-top emotionalism were anchored in the mechanics of the economic plight of the characters, whereas in Central do Brasil the characters are simply dressed poor to render them more pathetic. Dora’s and Josue’s struggle to find the father does not reveal any heightening of class consciousness. “The representation of victimized classes in isolation is not enough to constitute a class system, let alone to precipitate the beginning of a consciousness of class in its viewing public. Nor are the repeated references to the absent bank management sufficient to transform the situation into a genuine class relationship, since this term does not find concrete representation—or figuration within the filmic narrative itself.” [55] The ending, where we see Dora’s and Josue’s smiles through their tears, is the very embodiment of internally conflicted and complex emotions which are not totally worked out—like the politics of the film. In wanting the viewer to identify with the plight of the characters Salles keys up the viewer’s emotional involvement in the melodrama and engagingly beautifies the image. “If beauty is one of the arms the ruling class uses to pacify us and ‘keep us in our place,’ then one of our tasks is to turn that weapon around and make it work against the enemy.” [56]
In Central do Brasil there are no enemies so there is no reason to turn the weapon around. Salles would have us believe that everyone is friends with everyone else and we should let bygones be bygones and join him at the big love-in in the sertão. And if life were like that you wouldn’t need a Visa card.
Brazil/France/Spain/Japan 1998
Director: Walter Salles
Screenplay: Marcos Bernstein and João Emanuel Carneiro based on a story by Walter Salles
Endnotes
1 Johnson, Randal and Stam, Robert. Brazilian Cinema. Farleigh Dickinson University Press. Rutherford, Madison and Teaneck, USA. 1982, p. 68.
2 Rocha, Glauber. An Aesthetic of Hunger (1965). Translated by Burnes Saint Patrick Hollyman in Glauber Rocha and the Cinema Nôvo: A Study of his Critical Writings and Films. Garland Publishing, Inc. New York & London. 1983,
p.178
3 Johnson, Randal and Stam, Robert. Opus Cit. p. 19
4 Didaco, Jorge. “Turbulence—the Rise of the Mandacaru: Brazilian Cinema Renewed,” in Senses of Cinema, an online journal devoted to the serious and eclectic discussion of cinema:
www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/03/28/mandacaru.html
5 Didaco, Jorge. Opus Cit.
6 Xavier, Ismail. “Black God, White Devil: The representation of History,” in Johnson, Randal and Stam, Robert. Brazilian Cinema. Farleigh Dickinson University Press. Rutherford, Madison and Teaneck, USA. 1982, p. 134.
7 Bowman, Donna. “Faith and the Absent Saviour,” in Central do Brasil.
8 Xavier, Ismail. Opus Cit. p. 134.
9 Sontag, Susan. On Photography.
10 Interview with Walter Salles in Cineaste Magazine
11 Schiff, Frederick. “Brazilian Film and Military Censorship: Cinema Nôvo, 1964-1974,” in the Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, Vol. 13, No. 4, 1993, p. 480.
12 Desbois, Laurent. “Une affaire de pionniers, Entretien avec Walter Salles,” Cahiers du cinéma no. 526, p. 55
13 Desbois, Laurent. Opus Cit. p. 56
14 http://www.peopleteams.org/sertanejos
15 Sobchack, Vivian. “Lounge Time. Postwar Crises and the Chronotope of Film Noir,” in Refiguring American Film Genres History and Theory ed. Nick Browne. University of California Press, Berkley 1998, p. 133
16 Kuzniar, Alice. “Wender’s Windshields,” in Roger F. Cook and Gerd Gemünden eds. The Cinema of Wim Wenders. Image, Narrative and the Postmodern Condition. Wayne State University Press. Detroit, Michigan. 1997, p. 151.
17 Desbois, Laurent. Opus Cit. p. 56
18 D’Ambrosio, Marcellino. Holy Family, December 15,2004 in:
www.crossroadsinitiative.com
19 Caplan, Nina. “Central do Brasil/Central do Brasil Review,” in Sight and Sound, March 1999.
20 Williams, Linda. “Melodrama Revised,” in Refiguring American Film Genres History and Theory ed. Nick Browne, University of California Press, Berkley 1998, p. 48
21 Williams, Linda. Opus Cit. p. 50
22 Gledhill, Christine. “The Melodramatic Field: An Investigation,” in Home is where the Heart Is: Studies in Melodrama and the Woman’s Film, ed. Christine Gledhill (London: BFI, 1987) quoted in Williams, Linda “Melodrama Revised,” in Refiguring American Film Genres History and Theory ed. Nick Browne. University of California Press, Berkley 1998, p. 53
23 King, Bob. “The Kid,” from “The Kid: Jackie Coogan and the Consolidation of Child Consumerism,” in the Velvet Light Trap, Number 48, Fall 2001. University of Texas Press, Austin. 2001, p. 7
24 King, Bob. Opus Cit. p. 8
25 Williams, Linda. Opus Cit. p. 65
26 King, Bob. Opus Cit. p. 17
27 Nichols, Bill. Introductory essay to Frederic Jameson’s essay “Class and Allegory in Contemporary Mass Culture: Dog Day Afternoon as a Political Film,” in Nichols, Bill ed. Movies and Methods Volume II. An Anthology. University of California Press, Berkley. 1976, p. 96.
28 Moravia, Alberto. “Que conta Deus e o Diabo na Tera do Sol, (What does Deus e o Diabo na Tera do Sol Tell Us)” from L’Espresso, 16.08.64 Rome, Italy. Translated from the Portuguese by the author.
29 Macbean, James Roy. “Vent d’Est or Godard and Rocha at the Crossroads,” in Nichols, Bill ed. Movies and Methods An Anthology. University of California Press, Berkley. 1976, p. 96
30 Rocha, Glauber. Opus Cit. p. 69
31 Aufderheide, Pat. “Central Station,” in Film Comment, vol. 34 No. 6, Nov.-Dec. 1998, p. 76
32 Macbean, James Roy. Opus Cit. p. 96.
33 Desbois, Laurent. Opus Cit. p. 56
34 Rocha, Glauber. Opus Cit. p. 69
35 Macbean, James Roy. Opus Cit. p. 94.
36 Rocha, Glauber. Opus Cit. p. 69
37 Farias, Roberto. “Toward a Common Market of Portuguese and Spanish-speaking Countries,” in Johnson, Randal and Stam, Robert. Brazilian Cinema. Farleigh Dickinson University Press. Rutherford, Madison and Teaneck, USA.1982, p. 95
38 Rocha, Glauber. Opus Cit. p. 69
39 Spellerberg, James. “Cinemascope and Ideology,” in The Velvet Light Trap. No. 21 Summer 1985. Special
Issue on American Widescreen. Madison, Wisconsin. 1985, p.29
40 Spellerberg, James. Opus Cit. p.29
41 Spellerberg, James. Opus Cit. p.30
42 Bowman, Donna. “Faith and the Absent Saviour in Central do Brasil.”
43 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
44 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
45 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
46 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
47 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
48 Bowman, Donna. Opus Cit.
49 Skruzny, Eric. “Mary, Model of Women and Mothers from The Blessed Virgin Mary and Women,” by Sr. M. Danielle Peters in Catholic Faith Magazine accessed on-line Oct. 27, 2004
50 Moss, Rodney. “Mary and the Evangelization of the Family,” quoted in “The Blessed Virgin Mary and Women,” by Sr. M. Danielle Peters in Catholic Faith Magazine accessed on-line Oct. 27, 2004
51 John Paul II. “Mary sheds light on the role of women.” General Audience of 6 December 1995, in “The Blessed Virgin Mary and Women,” by Sr. M. Danielle Peters,” in Catholic Faith Magazine on-line Oct. 27, 2004
52 Peters, Sr. M. Danielle. “The Blessed Virgin Mary and Women,” in Catholic Faith Magazine accessed on-line Oct. 27, 2004
53 Roten, Johann. “S.M. Mary in Theological Anthropology,” IMRI course, class notes in “The Blessed Virgin Mary and Women” by Sr. M. Danielle Peters in Catholic Faith Magazine accessed on-line Oct. 27, 2004
54 Alter, Nora M. “Documentary as Simulacrum: Tokyo-Ga,” in Roger F. Cook and Gerd Gemünden eds. The Cinema of Wim Wenders. Image, Narrative and the Postmodern Condition. Wayne State University Press. Detroit, Michigan. 1997, p.151.
55 Jameson, Frederic. “Class and Allegory in Contemporary Mass Culture: Dog Day Afternoon as a Political Film,” in Nichols, Bill ed. Movies and Methods Volume II. An Anthology. University of California Press, Berkley. 1976, p. 727.
56 Macbean, James Roy. Opus Cit. p. 98.
