Okay now this is a bit wanky, but Mr S's comment here reminded me of Philip Sidney's famous poem on this very subject: this is Astrophil and Stella, sonnet 45:Mr Sausage wrote:If you claim to feel lots of lofty emotions when watching a movie, but cannot muster even an inkling of pity and sympathy for a needless cruelty that actually went on in the world, you have to wonder if there's any real depth or importance in what you claim to feel. Certainly what you've seen and felt doesn't seem to mean a lot or to've made much of a real impression. But you get to make lofty speeches on the internet about the transcendence of art, I guess.
Stella oft sees the very face of woe
Painted in my beclouded stormy face:
But cannot skill to pity my disgrace,
Not though thereof the cause herself she know:
Yet hearing late a fable, which did show
Of lovers never known, a grievous case,
Pity thereof gat in her breast such place
That, from that sea deriv’d, tears’ spring did flow.
Alas, if fancy drawn by imag’d things,
Though false, yet with free scope more grace doth breed
Than servant’s wrack, where new doubts honour brings;
Then think, my dear, that you in me do read
Of lovers’ ruin some sad tragedy:
I am not I, pity the tale of me.
This was the same Philip Sidney who argued, in 'The Defence of Poesy' that poetry was in some ways better than Nature, because it could conjure up an idealised, 'golden' world; and that for a poet to create an exemplary (but fictional) man was better than to actually beget such a man in real life:
'any understanding knows the skill of each artificer stands in that idea, or fore-conceit of the work, and not in the work itself. And that the poet has that idea is manifest, by delivering them forth in such excellency as he has imagined them. Which delivering forth, also, is not wholly imaginative, as we are wont to say by them that build castles in the air; but so far substantially it works, not only to make a Cyrus, which had been but a particular excellency, as nature might have done, but to bestow a Cyrus upon the world to make many Cyruses, if they will learn aright why and how that maker made him'.
What's interesting to me is that Sidney's poetry contains far more scepticism about the value and veracity of art than his prose treatise - Sonnet 45, with its mind-boggling ironies, is a good example. Many other poems in the sequence play with this tension between the idea that fiction can take us to an ideal, transcendent realm, and the idea that such a realm is really just a lie, invented for very pragmatic ends (in this case, getting laid). And even if that fictional realm is a hypocritical and immoral lie, perhaps it serves a moral purpose by exposing itself as such.
Anyway, just felt like throwing this in here; I doubt any of this would serve to excuse Tarkovsky's use of the horse. In fact, I've never seen a version of the film containing the offending passage - but for what it's worth, I did become a vegetarian for about three months after watching Marketa Lazarova.
I know it was brought up in a previous incarnation of this discussion (by Colin, I think), but what do people make of the rabbit shooting in Rules of the Game? Is it an indictment of the aristocrats' casual disregard for life, and therefore hypocritical in the same way as (but to a far lesser extent than) Tarkovsky's film; or is Renoir aware of this seeming hypocrisy, and is it in fact integral to the film's ambivalent attitude towards its characters?