1/18/12

Elliot Thompson

Chion: Voice in Cinema and the Muted Character Considering Michel Chions penchant for grandeur, most chapters of his book Voice in Cinema, specifically those within the section Tamiki: Tales of the Voice, focus on the magnitude of the voice as it pertains to the human plight and how its use in films can usually be retraced to the correlating fears and desires within ourselves. Interestingly enough, however, the author makes one of his most convincing cases when he examines the characters who are unable to speak, which he does in Chapter 7, The Mute Characters Final Words. Prior to this chapter, Chion had already established the voice as something mankind is always striving to control. Specifically referring to the Christian myth, the Word (Voice) of God is the device that sparks the creation of all life. There is no light without an order from the allpowerful voice. Another, equally defining example is the unborn child, who is developing in the mothers womb. Before the infant can even open its eyes, it is exposed to the sound of the mothers all-encompassing voice. Again, before light (birth), there is only the voice. Once the child is born, the umbilical cord, previously its main source of communication, is cut, and thus the infant lets out its first scream; its first in a lifetime of attempts, futile as Chion likes to point out, at obtaining some sort of connection with that original, all-powerful voice. So this is what makes the idea of the mute character a fascinating one. Here is a character who seems to lack the drive that is one of the defining characteristics of mankind. Its no wonder why, as Chion points out, we tend to find this character unsettling and often untrustworthy. One can also make the case that, since the human voice is such a defining characteristic, we have no idea how to perceive this person. And as part of human nature, mystery is often met with fear, and all sorts of questions arise. What does this character know? What has he seen? What has he heard? Because of the characters silence, we are naturally inclined to think that he has somehow managed to obtain a special nugget of wisdom, which Chion calls The Great Secret. As the author points out, this character is not one specific to film but can also be found in novels and plays. In film, however, there are methods of accentuating the characters mystery, particularly sonically. For instance, in some films, to quote Chion, [it is] as if his mutism or muteness extends even to his footsteps and other sounds he makes when he moves.

Throughout Voice in Cinema, Chion makes reference to the acousmtre, the off-screen, omnipotent voice, aka the voice without a body. In the chapter on the muted character, he tackles the idea of the body without a voice, and in doing so, creates interesting parallels between the mute and his prior theories of the acousmtre. The author describes their relationship as symmetrical and as one being the others counterpart. Both, however, are associated with having complete knowledge, or at least knowledge outside of the average persons grasp. Chion wraps up the chapter with a lengthy description of the French film Les Enfants du Paradis, in which the main character, a famous mime named Debureau, is put on trial for murder and is therefore forced to reveal his voice to the world. Not only is this a fairly literal interpretation of the mute revealing the great secret, but it also displays the characters fall from grace. As the author states, It is because he killed a man that Debureau had to expose his voice. This suggests that, aside from mystery and suspicion, there is also a level of innocence attached to the character who cannot speak, an innocence that Debureau had clearly lost. Perhaps this leads us toward a more developed idea of the relationship between the acousmtre and the muted character. Its hard to think of anything more innocent than the unborn child. This new being, who, like the mute, cannot speak, is comforted by an actual psychical attachment to the acousmtre via the umbilical cord. Once removed from the womb, the connection is severed, and the newborn frantically resorts to the voice. So, its easy to say that there is a deep-seated jealousy instilled in us when we are presented with a muted character, one who has seemingly managed to maintain this connection with what is, for us, the unattainable, allcomforting Voice. Either way, in simple terms of sound for film, the muted character certainly reinforces the idea that there is just as much power in silence, if not more, than there is in any sound.