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Exemplary Constructions of
Narrative Space Through Sound
in the Film “DOGVILLE”
as examined in two scenes an
introduction and a conclusion
Matt Migliorini
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Matt Migliorini ©2011
This essay will examine the ways narrative space is constructed in two key
scenes from Lars von Trierʼs 2003 film Dogville (Denmark, Sweden,
Netherlands), arguing that both scenes highlight an exemplary use of sound in
their construction of narrative space. Narrative space being the spatial
dimensions of the filmʼs diegesis. Dogville is an appropriate film to analyse with
regards to sound due to its noticeable difference of approach towards the
employment of traditional cinematic sound techniques, that will discussed in
detail below.
Dogville tells the story of the town Dogville in which a woman fleeing the mob is
provided refuge by the towns residents. Throughout the film, the woman, Grace
(Nicole Kidman) changes the residentsʼ lives through her efforts of physical
labour. Eventually the town turns on Grace and she is treated maliciously by all
of the its residents and raped by nearly all of its men. Taking place almost
exclusively in Dogville, the filmʼs setting is atypical to that of traditional feature
films; all of the filmʼs buildings and settings are represented by white lines on a
sound stage floor, many of which are boldly labelled. The set is not completely
invisible to us however, a number of pieces of furniture can be seen.
The effect of this kind of set draws great attention to the filmʼs artifice. In her
discussion of Dogville, Caroline BainBridge has noted that, ʻ. . . this cinema is a
fact foregrounded by the film and the distracting effect of this draws attention to
the making of cinema and to its status with regards to storytelling . . .ʼ (2007:
146). It is reasonable to argue therefore, that, initially at least, most audience
members will be acutely aware of the construction of the film. Clearly traditional
interpolation is not of interest to von Trier here. For how can we suspend our
disbelief that we are not merely experiencing a constructed moving picture,
when this construction is so overtly apparent?
Considering this line of questioning, Bainbridge draws upon von Trierʼs own
expression that,
[His] theory is that you forget very quickly that there are no houses or
whatever. . . . and the audience donʼt miss them after a time because
of this agreement you have with them that they will never arrive
(2007: 145-146).
Here the filmʼs director argues that his audience do not miss the buildings in the
film after a they have had time to adjust to the fact that they never will appear.
This essay agrees with this theory, and argues that the position of a suspension
of disbelief, one may eventually assume when experiencing Dogville, can be
largely attributed to its use of sound.
The first scene to be examined is that of the filmʼs opening three minutes, in
which we are introduced to Tom (Paul Bettany) and Tomʼs father (Philip Baker
Hall) (see Appendix A).
Dogvilleʼs opening shot, is a title card that reads, ʻThe film “DOGVILLE” as told
in nine chapters and a prologueʼ. This instantly infers that sound will be used to
tell the story. We are to be told. The next shot is that of the prologue title card,
followed by the filmʼs first filmed shot (Appendix A: Shot 3), which encompasses
the entire space in which the film plays out; an aerial shot of the theatrical
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looking town. The shot slowly zooms in to the radio in Tom Edisionʼs house. The
first sound we here in this sequence is that of a string orchestra, which, upon
seeing the filmʼs opening shot one can assume to be non-diegetic, but this is a
more problematic than usual assumption given the nature of the film. The next
thing we hear is the voice of the narrator (John Hurt), who tells us that, ʻThis is
the sad tale of the township of Dogvilleʼ. In his discussion of the voice in
cinema, Michel Chion highlights that, ʻWhen the acousmatic presence is a
voice . . . we get a special kind of talking and acting shadow which we attach
the name acousmêtreʼ (1999: 21). The acousmatic presence is a sound issued
from an unseen source. While Chion here is describing an acousmêtre different
to that of the narrator, for here the acousmêtre is not present within the
diegeses, the narrator in Dogville is still an acousmêtre, that this essay argues
is a key constituent in its construction of narrative space.
Chion goes on to highlight the powers attributed to the acousmêtre, stating that,
ʻThe acousmêtre is all seeing, its word is like the word of God: “No creature can
hide from it”ʼ (1999: 24). This association of the acousmêtreʼs words being like
those of God, are arguably why in Dogville, von Trier chose to open his film with
an aerial shot accompanied by the narratorʼs voice over because from this
position we can see everything from a privileged vantage point often associated
with God. In addition to this, we can also see through physical elements that are
presented as real in the world of the film. We cannot however, see all that the
narrator describes, but it is arguable that we process his descriptions and
project them onto our understanding of the filmʼs narrative space, due to the
authority that Chion informs us is attributed to the acousmêtre. The shot in
which we first hear the narrator, he tells us that, ʻmost of the buildings were
pretty retched, more like shacks franklyʼ. Considering that none of the buildings
have walls or roofs or any detailed mise en scene whatsoever, we accept this
description of the space as truthful.
After the narrator has established and detailed our spatial location, we enter
Tom Edisonʼs house. Here we see Tom and his father acknowledge the sound
of the radio (Appendix A: Shots 5, 6, 7, 8). We can also hear a ticking sound
that is easily recognisable as that of a clock. These sounds alert us to our
position in the space of the town alongside the image. For while we may be
positioned inside Tomʼs house, we can also see glimpses of the other residents
in the background of some of the shots. However, we can only hear the sounds
issuing from Tomʼs house. It is these sounds that define our spatial position in
the narrative as well as defining the space itself.
Tom then leaves his house, and as he does so he makes a gesture of opening a
door, that we cannot see (Appendix A: Shot 9). When Tom does this, we hear
what distinctively sounds like a door being opened, the sound of which is
synchronised with Tomʼs movement. Chion states that, ʻWe classify sound to
what we see in the image (1994: 68). Here however we do not see a door, but
in hearing one, we can perceive that the characters of Dogville do see a door.
The fact that we can hear a door we cannot see, again draws great attention to
the filmʼs nature as an open construction because we know that this sound is
added in post-production. However, the fact that we clearly identify with the
sound as emitting from the action also, and somewhat paradoxically, instils a
degree of authenticity to the image.
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If we can hear what we cannot see, then surely this functions along similar lines
to any acousmatic sound we have experienced in other films. On the other
hand, the acousmatic sound of the door also functions very differently to the
acousmatic in more traditional narrative films, because it arguably creates what
Gregory Currie describes as perceptual illusion, which he declares as being that
which ʻ . . . occurs when experience represents the world as being a certain
way, when in fact the world is not this way and the subject knows itʼ (1996: 334).
In other films the acousmatic is relatable to the real world, in Dogville it is not;
sound is created without a source. If one does eventually forget about the
blatant construction of the narrative space in Dogville, it is due to a kind of
perceptual illusion Currie describes and that the film arguably solicits, in which
the audience knows the world of the film is not like that of the real world, but in
which the audience can nonetheless believe in.
The sound of the door is also problematic when considering Chionʼs definition of
offscreen sound. Chion states that,
This essay argues that von Trier employment of acousmatic sounds like this
one, are what propels the perceptual illusion to take affect in an audiences
experience of Dogville, because this creates a space that is more identifiable. If
we can hear the sound of a door, then the door exists within the world of the film
to a far greater extend for the audience, than if the door could only be heard, as
well as only seen by its characters.
Once Tom is outside his house, birds can be heard singing (Appendix A: Shot 9
- 24). Like the door, no birds can be seen, however, this acousmatic sound
functions differently to the door in that it is continuous and defines our location
in space as being outside. Currie posits that,
Let us call ambient sound sound that envelops a scene and inhabits
its space, without raising the question of identification or visual
embodiment of its source: birds singing, churchbells ringing (Chion
1990: 75).
Ambient sounds such as the birdsong here can therefore, according to both
Chion and Currie be accepted unquestioningly. The staged set of the film
however, is clearly indoors. We know this because of the absolute blackness of
the background of the mise-en-scene and the obvious artificiality of the filmʼs
lighting. Problematically then, the birdsong firmly denotes a spatial location that
is external in an image that is so solidly identifiable as internal.
In the second key scene this essay is concerned with, Grace attempts to flee
the town; hidden in Benʼs truck (see Appendix B). Most of the scene is
experienced from an aerial viewpoint. The shots see Grace in mid shot, laying
in the back of the truck, and in an x-ray like fashion, we can see her through the
tarpaulin she is hiding under (Appendix B: Shot 11- 16). During this scene, the
only instigation we have that the truck is even leaving the space of Dogville, is
through the filmʼs use of sound. Firstly, the acousmatic voice of the narrator tells
us, ʻCanyon Road snaked down the valley and away, and Grace went tooʼ.
Again, we are reliant upon the narratorʼs authority to gear us towards an
understanding of space in the narrative (Appendix B: Shot 11).
Once the truck stops, Ben enters into the back of the truck and explains to
Grace that they are parked in the town square of George Town; so she had
better stay quiet while he rapes her (Appendix B: Shot 13). During this moment
we can faintly hear the sound of peopleʼs voices. These murmured acousmêtre
support Benʼs description of their spatial location. Of narrative space and the
voice Mary Anne Doane asserts that,
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Just as the voice must be anchored by a given body, the body must
be anchored in a given space. The fantasmatic visual space which
the film constructs is supplemented by techniques designed to
spatialize the voice, to localize it, give it depth, and thus lend to the
characters the consistency of the real (Doane 1985: 164).
The scene above certainly provides an example that gives credence to Doaneʼs
statement. The voices being significantly lower in volume and difficult to identify
localises the audience as being in the space of the truck. Although it is arguable
that our location as provided by the image, suggests that perhaps we should be
able to hear the muffled noises of the sound with more clarity because our
viewpoint is spatially outside of the truck. Again, while we do not see the source
of the sounds and even if they were in frame in this film we may not see them
anyway, the spatial location of the characterʼs is made convincing
predominantly through von Trierʼs use of sound.
The voices of both Grace and Ben in this scene are slightly louder and crisper
than the voices in the opening scene examined above. The effect of this is that,
further to the tight framing this claustrophobic moment is shot in, the crisp clarity
of their whispered voices renders our position in the space of the image as
almost not being able to be any closer to the characters. We can distinctly hear
Benʼs heavy breathing throughout the scene and the sounds of his voice
reverberate slightly due to the wooden structure of the truck. Here sound works
in conjunction with the image to, as Doane posits, ʻspatialize the voiceʼ (1985:
164), we like Grace cannot escape the horror of this situation due to our spatial
location.
This essay will now consider the function of music in the scenes. It should be
noted that while this music may not articulate the space of the narrative in the
sense of it describing aspects of the filmʼs diegetic space; it arguably defines, or
at the very least contributes, to the manner in which the nature of the space is
constructed. In her discussion of Dogville, BainBridge notes that,
In this scene, just before Ben begins to rape Grace, the non-diegetic music of
the string orchestra plays for around twenty seconds and bridges the dissolve
transition that cuts between Ben raping her, and his leaving the truck (Appendix
B: Shot 14-15). This music takes on a number of functions here. Brecht notes
that,
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. . . music can assume certain functions from the start, but they must
be reserved for the music. If, for example, music is to be and can be
used to express emotional states in people, then many actions are
no longer needed whose only purpose is to express these emotional
states (2000: 14).
Brecht also argues that, ʻUsed carefully, [the] principle of a separating the
elements of music and action could provide the narrative film with some new
effectsʼ (Bretch 2000: 14). This theory of the separation of music and action is
clearly displayed throughout Dogville. In this scene, the fact that the music only
last twenty seconds and that it masks the sound of Ben raping Grace produces
an almost matter-of-fact-ness about the nature of the space she is occupying,
which as argued, is always the film Dogville. Rather than hear the sound of the
rape and experience its full duration, we experience it cut short against the
orchestra. Here, and throughout the film, elements are separated. The most
notable and as highlighted throughout this essay, being sound and image.
To conclude, this essay has examined a number of ways in which von Trierʼs
use of sound in Dogville is exemplary in defining narrative space due to his
difference of approach in employing techniques founded in traditional narrative
film-making and gearing them towards the creation of a different kind of
narrative space. It has considered the influence of Brecht and Brechtʼs own
theory of the function of film music, in conjunction with von Trierʼs notable uses
of acousmatic sound effects and the acousmêtre. In summation it has
highlighted that narrative space of Dogville is defined in a manner that manages
to both disguise the filmʼs artifice, and at the same time, bring it to the fore of
the audienceʼs attention through its creation of a complex relationship between
the illusory narrative space of Dogville and the inseparable and knowable space
of the film Dogville.
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Bibliography
Bainbridge, Caroloine (2007) The Cinema of Lars Von Trier: Authenticity and
Artifice London: Wallflower Press
Brecht, Bertolt (1947) ʻOn Film Musicʼ tr. Silberman, Marc in Silberman, Marc
(ed.) (2000) Bertolt Brecht: On Film and Radio London: Methuen
Chion, Michel (1999) The Voice in Cinema tr. Claudia Gorbman New York:
Columbia University Press
Currie, Gregory (1996) ʻFilm, Reality, and Illusionʼ in Bordwell, David and Noel
Carrol (eds.) (1996) Post Theory: Reconstructing Film Studies Madison,
Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press
Doane, Mary Anne (1985) ʻThe Voice in the Cinema: The Articulation of Body
and Spaceʼ in Weis, Elisabeth and John Belton (eds.) (1985) FIim Sound:
Theory and Practice New York: Columbia University Press
Levison, Jerrold (1996) ʻFilm Music and Narrative Agencyʼ in Bordwell, David
and Carrol, Noel (eds.) (1996) Post Theory: Reconstructing Film Studies
Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press
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Filmography
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Shot 1
Shot 2
Shot 3
Shot 4
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Shot 5
Shot 6
Shot 7
Shot 8
Shot 9
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Shot 10
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Shot 24
Shot 25
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Shot 1
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Shot 5
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