Rick Hancox's
Philip Preville 3030024 Communications 605 Dr. William Buxton
Canadian filmmaker Rick Hancox's latest and as—yet—unfinished film, Rick Hancox's
Moose Jaw, has already been heralded for its many
contributions to Canadian film, from the pioneering of Canadian unmodernism
to the pioneering of
Canadian bimodernism. The recent Cinema
Consequently, the divergent
readings of the class are not due to the presence of one or two shots in the film, but
rather to the class' culturally—coded pattern of preferred reading, as influenced by this Canadian
filmmaking tradition.
It would be impossible for the class to have
unanimously shared Hancox's preferred reading of the film: even if all viewers were on the
same wavelength as
Hancox, each person's response would, at the very least, demonstrate inflections of
individual experience. The film's meaning or intent, as described in students' statements, virtually defy
classification: responses range from "
The film's setting sets off a number of distinctly
personal explorations of memory for Hancox; as such, the film gives rise to many
interpretations about the nature of home, memory and subjectivity —
basically, issues
lying on a
personal plane, dealing specifically with the individual. Hancox's entry
into Moose Jaw on the
train at the outset of the film is accompanied by a radio voice explaining that,
"recollections can be accompanied by the desire, the need to be in the actual physical
place. With
time, the urge to go back dissipates."3 Throughout the film, Hancox uses a number of techniques
—to
give rise to such interpretations: photos from family albums, visits to
Hancox's old house, and — most
importantly —
the combination of present—day footage of Moose Jaw with a discordant
soundtrack including old CBC radio entertainment programs and recollections of
Hancox's childhood, as related by his parents. From these aspects of the film, then, many students
(including myself) understood the film either primarily or partially as an exploration of the
personal. In particular, many responses make reference to notions of "home," including
one singled out by Hancox: "My point of entry into the film is
through the concept of 'home'."4. Others commented more
generally about "subjectivity" or "memory." A number of the filmmaker's
techniques for encoding and many corresponding decodings, then, can be situated on a
"personal plane" of meaning construction.
The film also creates a number of different meanings on a local (or municipal, or regional) plane — about the
city of Moose Jaw itself. In using the physical setting of Moose Jaw as a catalyst for personal
reflection, the film also reflects upon the city itself. Needless to say, the majority of footage
was shot in and
around present—day Moose —Jaw: ' the train arriving in Moose Jaw, Main Street & River Street Moose Jaw, the Eaton's store in
downtown Moose Jaw, homes
in suburban Moose Jaw, museums in Moose Jaw, the annual Moose Jaw band festival parade, and so
on. Furthermore, the film's narrative concerns a filmmaker who travels to Moose Jaw to make a film
about that city. As a result,
many responses considered local issues to be paramount: whether the concerns
were political, economic, historical or even personal, their, main focus was "what is the state
of Moose Jaw today?" Documentary readings of the film in particular tended to be
located on this local level: many viewers attributed a certain authenticity to the
footage of Moose Jaw, considering it an accurate representation of the city's
present reality. Once particularly direct response considered the film "a
harsh documentary on the social and economic decline of Moose Jaw, the blame for which is placed on the
shoulders of a centralized government and industry."5
This particular response foreshadows the third plane of interpretation: national. Various elements of the film point
to more overarching
national themes, particularly the railroad. Part of the film's voyage occurs on the train,
traversing the country prior to arrival in Moose Jaw; old advertisements of the
train running through the Rocky Mountains remind us of Moose Jaw's place on the
Trans—Canadian tourist and vacation line. Canadian Pacific Corporation
is itself mentioned in the film, still the largest employer in the city despite the disappearance
of VIA Rail's passenger line. Prime Minister Mulroney's voice also appears in the film, as do a
number of CBC
radio national newscasts, thus widening the geographic scope of the film. 'Though many alluded
to the film's national implications, few elaborated on them. One in particular
mentions "The nation dream of — a happy ever after Canada... fooled a lot of people — it is this letdownedness... that fuels the film."6 In a class
interview, Hancox himself discussed the film in terms of 'a longing for a past we never had
in order to escape a present that we cannot accept. It's an aspect of the Canadian condition."7 Hence from both an encoding and a decoding
standpoint, Rick
Hancox's Moose Jaw operates also on a national plane.
The lack of national
interpretations in viewers' responses concerned Hancox; the tendency to read
the film primarily on a local level disturbed him. In terms of the three planes
described here, the filmmaker's preferred reading can be stated as follows: Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw is an exploration of the national through the personal,
as catalyzed by the local. For the filmmaker, the local plane is secondary — or perhaps tertiary — in importance: the setting itself merely triggers a
mental journey with few necessary connections to present—day Moose Jaw. In one instance, Hancox
states his intention overtly as follows: "it's obvious that [my character in the
film is] attempting to make a documentary about Moose Jaw, but that I find that
it's ultimately impossible, and all I can do is wind up making an exploration
of memory and myself and my obsession."8 In another instance he states even more clearly,
"the film is not interested in the social truth of Moose Jaw. The
film becomes a film about the filmmaker."9 He also expresses concern that few people 'picked up on some of the more national
themes,' 1° that issues of nationalism,
collective past,'
and museumization were not perceived — as Hancox feels they should have been — on a national scale. More serious, however, are the
themes that
6 Lisa Monk, "How I reacted to the film, Moose Jaw and some
reasons why I may have reacted this way.
7 Richard Hancox, interview with Communications 605 students, 1 April
1992.
8 Richard Hancox,
interview with William Buxton, 8 April 1992.
9 Richard Hancox, interview 1 April 1992.
10 R. Hancox,
interview 8 April 1992.
were picked up on a wide scale, which were not meant to be there — particularly, readings of
Moose Jaw as a ghost town. "What does not seem to be coming across is that I
have chosen various angles and times of day to shoot Moose Jaw in which there
are precisely no people there... I do not want to leave people with the impression
that this is a film about Moose Jaw."11 In terms of meaning,
then, misunderstanding occurs on the local plane of meaning construction. This is the crucial point of
articulation in this encoding / decoding experiment: Rick Hancox's Moose
Jaw is largely
successful in using non—conventional coding techniques to communicate specific themes to its viewers — except on this local level.
Having established the misunderstanding in terms of
meaning construction, the
task then turns to establishing the precise site of misunderstanding within the text.
The National Film Board's 1957 documentary, City
of Gold, provides a for a fitting —
and in some ways stunning — comparison. Directed by Colin
Low and Wolf Koening, City of Gold presents still photographs
of Dawson City during the gold rush of 1897, as well as current footage, accompanied by the
narration of Pierre Berton, who spent his childhood there. David Clandfield summarizes— City of Gold as follows:
A quiet setting (present—day Dawson) provokes an imaginary voyage of
discovery (the exploratory contemplation of traces of a stirring past)
from which the
dreamer awakes to a sense of loss and tranquil reflection.12
This simple summary applies in whole and without modification to Rick
Hancox's Moose Jaw: the quiet prairie setting
provokes a lengthy of memory exploration of both personal and collective history, and
ends with a sense of loss. While
Dawson City, like Moose Jaw, is shown as a desolate and uninhabited "shadow
of its former self," the sense of loss has more to do with the gold rush legends that
the film puts to rest — Dawson's
storied history debunked,
not Dawson itself. City of Gold, effectively avoids,
misplaced interpretations
about the modern socioeconomics of Dawson City through the tight structure of its visual
elements: its exploration of the past is conducted entirely through the still
photographs. The film sandwiches the photographs between short sequences of modern—day Dawson City,
thus establishing the present—day setting as a catalyst for an historical journey. The journey
is conducted
almost uniquely through past footage of the gold rush; as such, images of a rich and exciting
past are not directly linked to or contrasted with the present. Consequently,
viewers find themselves anchored in the past, and refrain from any sweeping
conclusions about the present.
Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw, on the other hand, explores its past through present—day footage. As in City of Gold,
it is Moose Jaw's
trumped—up and
half—baked history, the promise of the railway, the national dream of prosperity for years to come,
and the filmmaker's sense of home that are lost. Moose Jaw is, by comparison, much more
subtle than City of Gold in its presentation of
recollections: the current setting is the constant and continuous catalyst for memories.
According to Hancox's own interpretations, the attempt to make a film about Moose
Jaw consistently blow up in the filmmaker's face, merely reflecting back —on his own life, experiences
and attitudes. A common technique in Moose Jaw involves combining present—day footage of the city with voices from the
filmmaker's past —
a particularly
effective method of creating a sense of nostalgia. The return to a familiar place can be an
absorbing experience, setting off voices in your head that transport you to
your past. Even if
there are others present, they become blocked out by the voices — hence the symbolism
of desolate Moose Jaw streets, a metaphor for the inside of Rick Hancox's brain. Like City of Gold, Moose Jaw's explorations of memory are triggered by a present
setting. But
unlike City of Gold, Moose Jaw's
explorations
never lose sight of the present: the visuals tend to remain in the present while the
soundtrack sets off in other directions. Even many old photos in the film are attached to the walls of a
present—day museum or placed in contrast to the present landscape. But the memories,
though attached to the setting, are not grounded by it: on the contrary, it is memory which manipulates the setting,
placing it in the distorted light of personal recollections. The film's use of this current footage for flashback
purposes, and its
refusal to depart from that footage throughout the flashback, are perhaps Moose Jaw's strongest and
most innovative element.
Unfortunately, this current footage of Moose Jaw
is the precise site of misunderstanding in the film: the footage of Moose Jaw commands an undue sense of authenticity from its
viewers, leading them to conclusions about the horrible demise of Moose Jaw. The footage does
tend to have a documentary "feel" to it; many long shots and extreme long
shots of the city occur within the film. And, since the film follows an individual
making a documentary about Moose Jaw, much of the footage
is meant to be documentary—like. Early on in the film, we are presented with an elevated view of Main Street in Moose
Jaw, with
people and cars on the go. A city councillor informs us that the Canadian Pacific Railway is still the
largest employer in the city; he later provides us with his impressions of life in
Moose Jaw. The film does provide some information about Moose Jaw's decline,
such as the closing of the train station and the Eaton's store, and a reference to the city as
"the largest in Saskatchewan" (both Regina and Saskatoon are now larger). On the
surface, then, a number of the film's codes point towards documentary interpretations. Closer examinations of the
local footage in the film, however, tend to uphold the filmmaker's preferred reading:
conclusions about the state of Moose Jaw, as pulled from the film, are dangerously
tenuous. Hancox insists that the footage should not be credited with a strong
sense of authenticity, and he attempts to deflect authenticity in a number of ways. To begin with,
the film's early
view of a busy Main Street in the middle of the day, mentioned earlier, is
probably the only truly "authentic" representation of modern—day Moose Jaw, and it stands in
stark contrast to virtually all other depictions of the city: constant images of
desolate and abandoned streets directly contradict the early information presented
about the city. This contrast exposes — or ought to have exposed — later
shots in which the town is constantly desolate. The "overcoding"
of a desolate Moose Jaw, which Hancox feels must be corrected, actually works in his favor:
since no city where the CPR employs nine hundred people could possibly be so desolate, the footage
of abandoned streets must be selective. Next, the contrasting of present—day vision with
historical soundtrack
elements also undermine the authenticity of the film: simply put, if film and sound don't match
in terms of chronology, the portrayal is unreliable. The interpretive error of
some responses is to consider this a reflection of Moose Jaw's bustling civic
past as well as the filmmaker's personal past; however, no necessary
link can be drawn between Hancox's recollection of the supermarket and the political and economic decline
of the city itself. In fact, such childhood memories are oblivious to these
factors: as stated earlier, it is the recollections which shape the setting, not vice—versa.
Other shots of Moose Jaw also tell us little
about the city, particularly the tours through Moose Jaw's museums. Roaring dinosaurs and model airplanes are placed in a campy,
kitschy context, but the campiness and kitsch have little correlation with the
Moose Jaw's current socioeconomic situation, and even less correlation with
desolate scenes of Moose Jaw streets. In other words, the pieces aren't fitting
together: what conclusions can be drawn about the city
itself based on a combination
of abandoned
streets, museum exhibits and a moose statue? Quite a few, but they would all be of a lyrical or literary
nature, for
there is no authenticity — no
reliable and truthful representation of reality — in terms of Moose Jaw's quality of life. Furthermore,
only the one city
councillor speaks on camera for any reliable length about Moose Jaw today, and such interviews are
usually essential to the establishment of any documentary—style authenticity. Furthermore, the
film's ending —
a thorough bathing
in the filmmaker's self—awareness, as his name is sung endlessly and he films himself in four
different mirrors — would
seem to cast a final shadow of doubt on any conclusions that might be drawn from the film about Moose
Jaw's current
quality of life. The ending shows us that the filmmaker has been looking at
himself all along, he has been the point of reference through which all other elements — including the setting — have been filtered.
The film does not
hinder in any way interpretations about memory, home, personal or collective history, or
museumization on either the individual, social or national plane. Yet the
subversion of authenticity is designed to direct readings of the film towards the
filmmaker's preferred meaning: that is, an exploration of the personal and by
extension the national, with Moose Jaw itself important only as a setting which
stimulates these explorations. But the nature of the information presented in the
film would, apart from a few limited exceptions, restrict any socioeconomic conclusions on the
local plane of meaning construction. Hermeneutically speaking, the film itself attempts to deflect
interpretations
of the film as a documentary about Moose Jaw.
Be that as it may, many students still arrived at
such conclusions. Viewers of Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw tend
to ascribe authenticity to the film's depiction of present—day Moose Jaw, in spite of the many traps which undermine that
authenticity. At least
two discussion groups compared the film to Roger & Me, a documentary about Flint,
Michigan. Another
group compared
the film to Gwynne Dyer's documentary, Anybody's Son Will Do. Generally speaking, then, the students showed a tendency
to see the film primarily
in terms of documentary, that is, in terms of a non—chronological discussion whose strength
lies in its reliable and authentic depictions of external reality, as opposed to a narrative whose
authenticity exists only within the world of the film. The film's debunking of its own
authenticity tended to go unnoticed, although one student held to this interpretation all the
while pointing
out the lack of authenticity, criticizing the film as poor documentary without ever re—questioning
whether or not is actually is a documentary. 13 Even while recognizing the disjointed soundtrack and "avant—garde" techniques, this response to
the film never abandons the documentary reading — he never seems to suppose
that authenticity had no place in the film to begin with. This student's reading is not "wrong" by
any stretch of the imagination (its roots in the film can be easily traced), but it opens up
the question:
why? Why, despite so many signs that the film is not a documentary, do so many readings of the
film ascribe a documentary—like authenticity to depictions of Moose Jaw in Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw? Or, stepping back a little further, what parts of the
film lend themselves to interpretations of authenticity?
From the above discussion, we have pinpointed the textual site of misunderstanding between encoder
and decoder: readings of the film tend to 12 attribute (or at least seek to attribute) a
documentary authenticity to present—day footage of Moose Jaw, in spite of the filmmaker's
best efforts to undermine that authenticity. In reference to Stuart Hall's "Encoding/Decoding," a considerable degree of
"asymmetry" exists between the positions of encoder and decoder:14 the codes presented by the one are not fitting
together with the codes that the other brings to the film. Encoded messages about Moose Jaw are
being misinterpreted to such a degree as to return the filmmaker to his editing
room. In terms of the film's text itself, attributions of
authenticity could emerge from the documentary—style footage; however, the film also discredits its own depictions of Moose Jaw on a
number of
occasions. Hence
the misunderstanding
cannot be explained solely in terms of the film's content. The class exhibited a
"pattern of preferred meaning" which defies a purely textual
analysis. In keeping with Hall's terms, then, perhaps this pattern finds its roots in the dominant
discourse of the Canadian cultural order.
The comparison with City of Gold
resurfaces here in a different light, placing Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw within a wider
scope of the Canadian film tradition — a tradition which finds one of its greatest strengths in
documentary filmmaking. Canadian film is world renowned for
three different things: animation, avant garde, and documentary. Within Canada, this particular
bit of information is
probably quite widespread; I first learned it as part of my grade ten social
studies curriculum in Alberta, and watched a number of Canadian documentaries
throughout high school. Canada's documentary legacy is evidenced by the programming policies of the
Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, who air a wide variety of documentary "forum"
programs every week
— The Nature of Things, Man Alive, The Fifth Estate, even daily with
The journal, and so on. Through their mass exposure, reaching into all Canadian homes,
such programs demonstrate the pervasiveness of the Canadian documentary tradition; by
contrast, the animation and avant—garde strengths of Canadian film receive much less
exposure. Furthermore, as masters students in Media Studies,
this particular group is most likely aware of even further details, including John Grierson's
pioneering of documentary film during World War Two, the work of the NFB's Unit B
and the Candid Eye series of the 1950s, and the development of cinema direct techniques in Quebec. Yet even without the detailed
historical baggage, exposure to documentary—style film in highly accessible and
uniquely Canadian mass media forums suggests that most
Canadians everywhere — and
certainly those in the test group for decoding Moose Jaw — have a considerable
familiarity with documentary.
This strong tradition, then, through its exposure, forms part of the dominant Canadian cultural order.
Canadians bring this cultural baggage to the films they watch. They recognize documentary
quickly and easily, and as students we tend to possess some well—developed
analytical skills for it. Simply put, we are "used" to documentary. This familiarity, stemming from
the pervasiveness of
Canadian documentary, has resulted in a pattern of preferred meaning: documentary footage
equals a documentary film. For Rick Hancox, the familiarity
has affected readings of Moose Jaw, causing viewers not only to adopt, but also to retain, a sense of authenticity from
the film. The Canadian documentary tradition thus betrays Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw: the present—day footage is the film's point of reference not only
textually, but culturally. As a result, even though the text itself devours its own
authenticity, the documentary reading retains its force due to the cultural influence of documentary film. To put it
another way, documentary footage has acquired "denotative" meaning among Canadians:15
its interpretation has
become comparatively
rigid. Documentary footage is less open to new and different accentuations than those it
has traditionally received: the footage's denotative meaning hinders an
appreciation of its' innovative use in Moose Jaw. Viewers see the footage, attribute a
certain meaning to it, and hold to that interpretation because, culturally and
subconsciously, it cannot mean anything else.
The denotative meaning does not necessarily inhibit
other interpretations
of the text. Hence, people are
able to recognize the film's meanings on the personal and national planes, but remain
reluctant to release local interpretations based on documentary footage due to
its presence in the dominant cultural discourse. Some did abandon notions of documentary; these students (including myself)
tended to have the "concept of home" as a "point of entry" into
the film.16
Having a different
"home" other than Moose Jaw, they likely recognized the universality of Moose Jaw
in the film: as a previous home, Moose Jaw cannot be perceived or presented objectively. An
ideal test to this
thesis of Canadian cultural discourse would be to show the film to a group of Americans:
culturally grounded in narrative films, an American audience may have been less likely to
give the documentary footage such a rigid interpretation, and more disposed to
simply accepting it within the boundaries of the film only. But the pervasiveness of
the Canadian documentary
tradition has made it a part of the dominant cultural order, and documentary footage has
consequently taken on a denotative meaning. Rick Hancox's Moose
Jaw meets
that denotative meaning head on, presenting a formidable challenge to traditional
Canadian interpretations of 15 documentary footage. It attempts to move beyond the. established,
denotative meanings,
and — at least in the filmmaker's
mind — it does not succeed. The asymmetry between encoder and
decoder exists, in this instance, prior to the viewing of the film; the
distance is not bridged by the film itself. Rick Hancox expressed that he would change the final shots of
the city to avoid conclusions that the film is primarily about Moose Jaw.
According to this thesis, however, such measures will be inaccurate. In order to correct
the asymmetry, the film requires some sort of code that will trigger either a
clear understanding or a revelation in its viewers: the documentary footage is
not what it seems. The fact that most people still recognized meaning on a
personal plane from the footage suggests that a large part of the bridge has already been built.
But the misunderstanding,
because it is cultural and not textual, will not be cleared up by changing only the final
shots of the city.
WORKS CITED
David Clandfield, Canadian Film (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1987). Stuart Hall, "Encoding / Decoding," in
Stuart Hall et al, editors, Culture, Media, Language (London: Hutchinson, 1980).
Rick Hancox, Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw, March 1992 (Department of Communication Studies, Concordia
University, Montreal).
Responses to Rick Hancox's Moose Jaw, a collection of one—page
interpretations from
students in Communications 605, along with recorded discussions ,and interviews with
filmmaker Richard Hancox, March — April, 1992. William Buxton, professor. (Department of
Communication Studies, Concordia University, Montreal.)