Analysis of narration and focalization in
“An Occurrence at
— (verbal narrative and film).
by David Makhanlall
Well-crafted textual narrative and visual film stretch the imagination and make scenes, situations and story believable. Both involve aspects of “focalization” which can in the hands of a skilful writer or director create a “suspension of disbelief” by allowing a compression or de-acceleration of time in order to successfully engage the reader into uncharted possibilities. Seymour Chatman calls an aspect of this phenomenon a “narrative stretch”, and it is one that appears in Ambrose Bierce’s “An Occurrence at
It is not uncommon in real life for an individual, under great stress, to shut out certain harsh realities and in a semi-altered state develop an alternate mode of existence, even though temporary.[1] In the art of the telling of the tale, a key element termed focalization, which deals with “immediacy and authority”, can allow this to occur. When these two elements are intertwined by a skilful storyteller we can have a classic case of “an imaginary scene within an imaginary scene”; the writer tells his imaginary tale with such realism that it is believable, and once this believability has been established a character within the tale tells a story that is in itself made believable; one caveat: the writer then at the end, tries to tell the reader that no such character’s tale has really occurred but has been a pure mental exercise by his character in a moment of acute distress. Has one then made to believe the unbelievable?
In a sense, an imaginary mental escape within the confines of a story is not an escape unless it is made real by being acted out, yet in the end if it is discovered as being only a mental exercise, it is not an escape as it has not happened; yet the reader earnestly believes that there has been an escape.[2] How can this be? How can a double-juxtaposition of imaginary events exist? The implied narrator depicts an escape, entices his reader into the plan and actual progress of the escape, and yet his central character does not appear to have escaped in the end in the literal sense. Film director Enrico has successfully mirrored Bierce’s story in all key pivotal points and has created an engrossing film.
Who tells the story and through whose eyes we see the story are essential elements. This tale opens with direct narration which is a certain overhearing by the audience in the first three paragraphs in which the narrator sets the scene; straightforward mimesis, and what Toolan describes as external focalization “where the focalization is from an orientation outside the story ( the orientation is not associated with that of any character within the text)” (p. 60). In Robert Enrico’s film, the camera pans the scene, in close imitation to external focalization; here is where the moving camera closely follows the narrative mode of expression clearly: the setting of the scene, so to speak.
However, in the last sentence of each paragraph, the text narrative reads:[3]
It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it. (363)
Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms of deference. (364)
Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. The liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded. (364)
The above three instances are evidence of diegesis, employing mediated narration which “presumes a more or less express communication from narrator to audience” (Chatman, p. 146). Robert Enrico’s film directly ignores the above three instances of mediated narration and can only rely on inferences (observations on manner of behavior, character and object functionality, and mode dress, as the camera pans the scene).
In paragraph three we are introduced to the man who is going to be hanged, whose face “had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp” (Chatman, Reading Narrative Fiction, p. 364). Here, Robert Enrico camera focuses in on Farquhar’s facial expressions thus creating a sense of seeing things through Farquhar’s eyes; it is at this point we get a quick look at events by way of the main character’s perspectives.
It is not until mid-way in the fourth paragraph that we are again introduced to preparations (again in direct mimesis) where “the plank would tilt and the condemned man go down between two ties” (Chatman, Reading Narrative Fiction, p. 364).
However, matters takes a different turn starting mid-way in paragraph four and into paragraphs five and six. Internal focalization is the primary method used; again, as Toolan notes: “Internal focalization occurs inside the setting of the events, and almost always involves a character-focalizer, though some unpersonified position or stance could be adopted” (p. 61): Here, in the text, external focalization, quickly gives way to internal focalization.
A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move. What a sluggish stream!
In Enrico’s film we see down below, as if from Farquor’s perspectives, his boot at the end of the plank, and his view of the driftwood moving slowly down in the river below.
Here also, “facts about the feelings, thoughts and reactions of a (or several) character (s) are reported, so that a penetrating intrusive portrayal is achieved” (Toolan, p. 61). At this point the central character’s personality establishes rapidly. We get a sense of his background, family situation, and psychological state from the text. Robert Enrico adequately captures Farquor’s history in a brief “flash-back” where Farquor’s wife looks up as someone approaches. This little detail gives hints that a reunion might be possible for the condemned man; could he be saved and thus be reunited with his wife?
Here, in the text, external focalization, quickly gives way to internal focalization in two brief sentences and in one paragraph.
A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move. What a sluggish stream!
And back again to external focalization:
He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece of drift--all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new disturbance.
Then the reader is introduced to a sudden turn in events.
Striking through the thought of his dear ones was a sound which he could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a blacksmith's hammer upon the anvil; it had the same ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or near by--it seemed both. Its recurrence was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. He awaited each stroke with impatience and--he knew not why--apprehension. The intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became maddening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and sharpness. They hurt his ear like the thrust of a knife; he feared he would shriek. What he heard was the ticking of his watch.
What occurs is an attempt at “suspension of time”: where “What a sluggish stream”; The intervals of silence grew progressively longer, the delays became maddening”; “What he heard was the ticking of his watch.” In these instances a man at the moment of imminent death has developed an acute sense of reasoning. However, there are hints of something else; Toolan writes, “some narratives trade heavily on our certainty as to whether what is focalized is actual and potentially ‘public experience’, or imagined and perhaps an index of psychosis” (p. 62). In this tale one needs to ask: what would be the immediate mental state of a man to be hanged within moments?[4] Enrico captures these moments most admirably in his film; the “slow-motion” movement of the wife rising and heading towards someone approaching, and the increasing crescendo of the striking of the watch.
Having established the “suspension or slowing-down of natural immediate time,” Bierce again moves into internal focalization, but with a major difference.
"If I could free my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the invader's farthest advance."
Time has been slowed down, and with internal focalization we get a “wish” which in a great sense cannot be distinguished from “foreshadowing.” Through the central focus of his main character, Bierce sets the stage for events to come. Hints of a possible escape are planted at this point. It should be noticed also that at no time does the reader get into the minds of the other characters on stage; moments of internal focalization are only those of the main character; this allows a narrative to be free of “interpretation” by other viewpoints. At this precise moment there are hints of the case of where a character in a tale momentarily thinks of outwitting his writer and creator, where it must be remembered that Farquor had an earlier quick glimpse of his wife rising up to meet someone – perhaps him? Immediately after, follows:
As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed into the doomed man's brain rather than evolved from it the captain nodded to the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside. (365)
But the results of a possible escape are not quickly forthcoming.
The narrative breaks at this point to a brief one-page flash-back which provides details of how the condemned man came to be where he is, using external focalization. However, we read:
"Suppose a man--a civilian and student of hanging--should elude the picket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel," said Farquhar, smiling, "what could he accomplish?"
This passage closely mirrors the language and style of the passage in the first section where Farquor contemplates escape.
"If I could free my hands," he thought, "I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the invader's farthest advance."
Farquhar earlier plans for mutinous action fails and is about to get him hanged, yet in the state of mind of being hanged he plans an escape. This juxtaposition of failure and possible death, against possible death and escape, is a skilful technique employed by Bierce, and as relayed by internal focalization, gives great credibility and urgency to the narrative. This ties-in to the notion of “reasonable doubt” as to the soundness or possibility of an escape; the case of the double-jeopardy:
The third section brings the narrative back to where Farquhar is hung. The inclusion and progression of words gives the sense of an unreal un-wordly experience told in indirect focalization:
was as one already dead…he was awakened--ages later, it seemed to him… he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fullness…power only to feel…luminous cloud …without material substance…the light about him shot …saw above him a gleam of light…. (366)
However, this breaks to direct focalization: "To be hanged and drowned," he thought? "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair" (Chatman, Reading Narrative Fiction, p. 366). Farquhar, now apparently in the water, tries to free himself; the reader at this point is introduced to a new series of language: “What splendid effort!--what magnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah, that was a fine endeavor! Bravo!” (p. 366). In a sense this is written in the mock-heroic style with direct exposition by the narrator. Farquhar was unsuccessful in destroying a bridge (ironically the one on which he is to be hanged) yet he is rooted-on to escape from death by hanging. Here the implied narrator becomes a voice-narrator-character and encourages his central character to escape. Chatman points out: “Where the narrator is a different person than the hero, he may present his own ideology, against which he judges his hero’s actions” (p. 158). This method used by Bierce serves a two-fold purpose within a questionable framework.[5] Does the narrator want his central character to escape within the confines of the narrative? Or is this a mere distraction for the inattentive reader?
Enrico’s film captures Farquor’s dramatic plunge into the river, and successful attempt at freeing himself, and his rise to the surface. Farquor looks up, and through a series of “blurred shimmering-like images of light”, director Enrico captures instances of a scene somewhat unreal; voices at slow speed, focus of soldier taking aim and making eye-contact with Farquor, and the general slow motion of things above water and methodical-like troop movement up on the bridge.
Inattentive readers of the narrative would have missed these details of incidents almost unreal.[6] However, director Enrico captures these moments beautifully, from Farquor wife’s initial approach in the “flash back” scene (or is it “fast-forward?), and to the situations after he has surfaced. Enrico does a wonderful job through drum-beats the gallop of his character towards what might be supposed as home and safety. Notable observations are the tunnel-like run through the glade of trees approaching the estate and the “as if by magic” the swinging open of the gates. As the gates open, one begins to wonder about this as it has the same surrealist movement as when Farquor’s wife approaches as he is about to be hanged and with the slow-motion troop movement up on the bridge.
Director Enrico beautifully captures Farquor’s mood as depicted in the story as he plays upon imagery and scenery from the narrative in his film.
It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble. The trees upon the bank were giant garden plants; he noted a definite order in their arrangement, inhaled the fragrance of their blooms. A strange, roseate light shone through the spaces among their trunks and the wind made in their branches the music of Æolian harps. He had no wish to perfect his escape--was content to remain in that enchanting spot until retaken. (368)
It was as wide and straight as a city street, yet it seemed untraveled. No fields bordered it, no dwelling anywhere. Not so much as the barking of a dog suggested human habitation. The black bodies of the trees formed a straight wall on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point, like a diagram in a lesson in perspective. Overhead, as he looked up through this rift in the wood, shone great garden stars looking unfamiliar and grouped in strange constellations. He was sure they were arranged in some order which had a secret and malign significance. The wood on either side was full of singular noises, among which--once, twice, and again--he distinctly heard whispers in an unknown tongue. (368-69)
How softly the turf had carpeted the untraveled avenue--he could no longer feel the roadway beneath his feet! (369)
Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene--perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. (369)
In the end Farquhar, in Bierce’s tale, reaches out towards his wife: “He springs forward with extended arms (p. 369) and feels a stunning blow on his head. In Enrico’s film, it is the wife who reaches for Farquor’s neck, and at that moment he feels a blinding flash of light and utters an agonizing scream.[7]
Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of Owl Creek bridge. (p. 369)
As mentioned, inattentive readers would have believed, until the end, that Farquor has indeed escaped, and in order “to make things right” perhaps conclude that Farquhar was again recaptured and subsequently hanged, which accounts for the ending. What needs to be remembered is the fact that the narrator did goad his character on (“What splendid effort!--what magnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah, that was a fine endeavor! Bravo!”) Farquor takes up the challenge, escapes the noose, swims the river and meets his wife as he had wished for. Here then is a classic case of where a character, in both narrative and film, momentarily outwits his readers, and in a sense accepts a challenge from his writer and creator, and wins, momentarily.
Works Cited
Abbott, H. Porter. The
University Press, 2002.
An Occurrence at
Berkove, Lawrence I. A Prescription for Adversity: The Moral Art of Ambrose Bierce.
Chatman, Seymour. Reading Narrative Fiction.
Company, 1993.
Chatman, Seymour. Story and Discourse.
Detweiler, Robert. “The Moment of Death In Modern Fiction.” Contemporary
Literature. Vol. 13, No. 3. (Summer, 1972): 269-294. JSTOR. April 2, 2007.
Gessner, Robert. “Studies in past and Deccelerated Time.”
Cinema Journal. Vol. 16. (1966 - 1967): 33-45. JSTOR. April 2, 2007.
Richter, David H. Narrative/Theory.
Simonet, Thomas and Robert Enrico. “Filming Inner Life: The Works of Robert Enrico.”
Cinema Journal. Vol. 14, No. 1. (Autumn, 1974): 51-74. JSTOR. April 2, 2007.
Toolan, Michael. Narrative a critical linguistic introduction.
[1] M.E. Grenander writes: “Fundamentally, this effect or ironical terror depends on a firm grasp of the connection among intellectual, emotional, and sensory factors in the human personality…the latter often indicated by a slowing-up of subjective time” (p. 94).
[2] On this point, Lawrence I. Berkove writes: “Least obviously and most deeply, however, the story is not about Farquhar at all, but about the reader’s mind. What Bierce attempts to disclose at this deeper level is that the reader’s mind is inclined to make the same fatal mistake that Farquhar’s does. Herein lie the story tragic implications” (p. 114).
[3] All page references are to Chatman, Seymour. Reading Narrative Fiction.
[4] See Robert Detweiler’s article “The Moment of Death in Modern Fiction” for a detailed analysis: “The presentation of the moment is mimetic because the artist ‘imitates’ what he knows of the concrete realities of dying…the rupture of time and space inherent in the death moment” (p. 270).
[5] For a detailed analysis of this technique, refer to Mieke Bal (quoted in Richter): “It is important to keep sight of the difference between spoken and unspoken words of the characters. Spoken words are audible to others and are thus perceptible when the focalization lies with someone else. Unspoken words – thoughts, internal monologues – no matter how extensive, are not perceptible to other characters. Here, too, lies a possibility of manipulation which is often used. Readers are given elaborate information about the thoughts of a character, which the other characters do not hear” (p. 160).
[6] See Simonet: “Nevertheless, the film evokes a feeling that not all is what it seems. The viewer shares Farquhar’s consciousness and senses that he is not really escaping. The technique that seems to contribute to this overall effect are techniques that (1) reduce detail and redundancy of information in photographic images, and (2) distort the continuity of space and time” (p. 56).
[7] See Robert Gessner’s “Studies in past and Deccelerated Time”: “The shock achieved by writer-director Enrico is unusual in cinema, and opens psychic possibilities not heretofore seen” (p. 43).