Truffaut’s famous adaptation of the Ray Bradbury novel Fahrenheit 451 begins with a strange and stern voice-over against coloured close-ups of television aerials, in the place of credits. This innovative opening introduces us directly to the world of the film, where the futuristic regime has outlawed the printed word. Books are banned, and ‘firemen’ are charged with starting blazes, to throw the contraband books into them. Oskar Werner (Jules et Jim) plays Guy Montag, the fireman whom the film follows on a journey of self-discovery that simultaneously reveals to him the oppressive character of the state by which he is employed.
Scenes of book-burning don’t take long to appear on-screen. Five minutes into the film, Montag has donned a huge fire-proof suit, grabbed a flame-thrower and is torching a medium-sized pile of paperbacks on what looks like a cheap barbecue. A crowd stand by, as enthralled as we are at the weird spectacle. Later, as Montag’s incineration team bust in on a stately home containing a jackpot — a hidden library — the images of book-burning reach out to the audience even more. Titles of great and popular literature appear large on the screen, first as they are drenched in blue flammable liquid, and then as the flames consume them. We have time to experience at length our horror in the face of the individual and systematic destruction of a world’s repository of knowledge. The lady who occupied the house drops the match that ignites the library, and then falls backwards to allow herself to be consumed: ‘to die as [she has] lived’.
A primary mode of transport in the film provides a poignant symbol: a monorail whizzes along in a perfectly straight line, elevated from the earth on metal supports. It is on this monorail commute that Montag first meets Clarisse (Julie Christie), the woman whose questions first cause him to see the cracks in the facade. Later, as Montag flees the state, a counterpart symbol emerges in the twin lines of the railway — a mode of transport made obsolete by the regime, but persistent on the ground over which the film’s protagonist makes his journey to freedom.
Montag finds his destination at the end of the railway line. A small, hidden society inhabit abandoned railway cars in the woods, undertaking the endless task of memorising the world’s great literature, and transmitting each onto the next generation as they age. The film closes with the men and women walking in the falling snow, reciting their books as they pass the steady, onlooking camera.
Earlier this week, Heidi introduced her post on ‘Stacks’ by reminding us that Fahrenheit 451 describes the nature of real regimes: societies of the past that have enforced the burning of both books and human beings. The spectre of the ideological effort to control thought hangs over all kinds of institutionally-sponsored censorship. If we live in a state or belong to an institution that encourages an insulated relationship with knowledge and experience, then we have a particularly dramatic opportunity for self-discovery: as does Montag in the film. This process — to go from an inherited world-view, to a self-attained one — must be undertaken by all people who aspire to an authentic state of being. However, the ‘easy target’ of a controlling regime or institution may mask the full distance of our journey. Montag’s escape only marks the beginning: and yet it is a hugely significant step. Once he arrives in the woods, he is surrounded by others who, like him, have chosen their narratives.
For most of us, there’s still a long way to go on the journey to authentic knowledge. Yet here we are, at the end of the abandoned railway line. Here we must choose from the ‘books’ of the greatest minds the world has ever known. Here we must warm each other from the elements — because we have to face the brisk winter wind. We have to build our own houses and teach our children – to come into contact with ideas, or with the earth — the substance of our humanity.
NEXT WEEK: It doesn’t seem possible that we’ve not got to this earlier: but next week we’ll finally get a chance to bask in the humanist beauty of Woody Allen’s oeuvre, with Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989). For a more extended schedule, check in here.
Heidi’s last post wrote about self-censoring. It saves a lot of matches when an institution convinces people to fear reading anything that might expose them to a new way of thinking.
I’m really interested in where this distinction lies: it seems likely to me that the reason churches might encourage self-censorship in a secular society is simply that (in most cases) they can’t get away with any more than that. In places where a sufficient concentration of LDS members exist, for example, I think censorship on a state level is introduced rather quickly. This takes the form of legislation, and control of what services and products are available locally.
Also: I do wonder how much institutionally sponsored censorship is even necessary, or ‘good’ for the purposes of authoritarian institutions?! I see these kinds of policies as an opportunity for greater self-responsibility, for a thinking person. The human spirit ultimately can’t be curbed.
Saving matches. Wow.
Aside from having a huge crush on Julie Christie, I’ve always been captivated by the weird laconic pacing of this movie. (A little off-topic, but I’ve always wondered if this was due to language difficulties — I’ve read that Truffaut spoke almost no English.)
Back on topic:
Andy, great post. I especially love this thought: “This process — to go from an inherited world-view, to a self-attained one — must be undertaken by all people who aspire to an authentic state of being.”
Julie Christie does a wonderful job in this film… it took me a while to realise that she plays two characters! :)
There’s a lot that could be said about those two contrasting female characters – one so ‘domestic’, and one uncontrollable.
Honestly, I don’t think this is Christie’s best performance, but I still like her. Have you seen Darling (one of her first) or Afterglow (more recent)? And, of course, there are Doctor Zhivago, McCabe & Mrs. Miller and Don’t Look Now.
I haven’t seen either of those… but I want to see them now! I have a long list. :s :)
Heidi, I also was riveted by the idea of going from inherited to self-attained. It’s almost one of the great struggles of life — that journey into selfhood. Some call it “growing-up” but clearly one may be considered a responsible and well-developed adult in our society and yet remain a child in this way.
It’s the whole core of Existentialism. Sartre writes about states of ‘Being’, and the difficulty of attaining authenticity. Kierkegaard, too: his writings tell us that we need to take a ‘leap of faith’ – where we consider the meaninglessness of our inherited worldviews, and their constructed nature. Only then can we decide to possess our own narratives.
Someone who claims they have never questioned ‘the church’ (or any narrative-producing institution) is, according to these thinkers, incapable of authentic existence. Whether we participate in ‘the church’ or not after our moment of questioning is incidental – much more important is the fact that we acknowledge that the church could be right or wrong, and then choose whether to believe or not.
We have a huge problem of authenticity in the LDS church if we have a generation of members ‘born into’ Mormonism who are discouraged from having this moment of choice – real choice.
Such a haunting film. It’s been years (decades?) since I saw it and I can recall many scenes. It cemented the book into my long term memory.
I watched this one on VHS a long time… ago… important message… (read the book too of course) I liked the emphasis on T.V. being a brain drainer… that’s pretty apt… I guess Bradbury wasnt’ too keen on that slob from Michigan co-opting the title for one of his movies either…
…wellllll it’s a particular kind of television that they’re watching in the world of the film. Actually, I think that many of the high-quality programmes on TV here in the UK can be a real aid to enlightenment and free-thinking. Of course, there are (lots of) exceptions. :)
I recently read someone wondering at how the UK produces so much high-quality television. I think the US is master of the dark-side, the brain-draining side, known as “reality television” among other formats. Maybe the further it goes from the experience one gets from a book?
And to be fair to television in a more general sense, long after the age of books and the fall of oral tradition, there has been a cabal against the mind-drainig effect of books. :D So ironic that 451 falls back on oral tradition as a means to preserving books! It seems that story-telling has always been a locus of power.
One of the reasons for the UK’s high quality output is that we all pay a ‘TV License’ of about $200 a year, to fund the BBC. That’s a lot of money – and it goes to pay for a lot of good stuff.
Also – our commercial channels have been groundbreaking for ‘Reality TV’, too! Luddites will always claim that yesterdays mode of storytelling is more pure than tomorrow’s. :)
The end of personal tyrannies starts with love — ♥ Clarisse. I first read 451 in the library of my Junior High School. Here I also first listened to Pink Floyd’s The Wall which was part of the library collection. There’s a little bit of Clarisse in every librarian and that may be part of the reason why they’re so sexy.
Thrilling and thoughtful. Andy. Thank you. Not so much a film review (though I’d really like to see this for myself, so an effective review nonetheless) as a contemplation. I especially appreciate the invitation to draw-together our lives and help each other along that road that only an individual can travel — that of the reader who seeks an “authentic state of being.” Seems a worthy mission for Doves & Serpents.
How well do you think this film does as a unique interpretation of the book?
I wouldn’t claim that mine are reviews, at least not in the traditional sense. :) Anyway, our journey through filmic and personal history focusses on response, not appraisal.
I’ve not yet had the pleasure to read the book, so I can’t comment on the process of adaptation. What do those who have read it think?
Andy! You haven’t read Fahrenheit 451? You must! I read it in high school and hated every page. But then I re-read it 4-5 years ago as part of a one book-one community read in Baton Rouge and could hardly tear my eyes away from it. I felt like Bradbury was prophetic–like he saw into the future. It was very powerful to re-visit it and have such a different reaction.
Yes, you must read it immediately!
Ok, I will! I promise! I’ll let you know what I think.
Happy coincidence. My husband and I just watched this flick. I identify with Montag. I feel his desire to excel at his work and in his culture. And as his character is exposed and rounded-out, I feel his fear of being ‘found out.’ Finally, I am also very jealous and excited for him when he leaves it all behind and enters a new country. This is why I read and watch movies and even try to keep up with your wonderful articles on Doves and Serpents because sometimes I feel like I am plugged in the Mormon Matrix and I feel less lonely when I find out that I am not the only one who… thinks. I don’t want to control or be controlled!
What Hinged said. Thank you.