On Wednesday, I had the opportunity to show Ruth Ozeki’s Halving the Bones for the second time this year. The documentary continues to intrigue me. Unlike the other films we have shown as part of this year’s Common Book Film Series, Halving the Bones constitutes a sort of meditation. Viewers must pay close attention to the narration in order to understand what Ozeki is doing—in order to question the reality posed by the film—and this questioning, in fact, mirrors Ozeki’s own exploration of identity and memory. It’s a documentary that needs to be watched perhaps more than once (and if you haven’t seen it, or would like to see it again, I encourage you to check it out of the library. It might inspire some great essay topics).
My favorite sections of the documentary continue to be those with Ozeki’s mother. Her personality comes across beautifully, as does her humor. I was pleased, last semester, when much of the audience laughed during these scenes, and although the atmosphere was a little more subdued this past week, I still noticed a few tempered giggles.
If you would like to read a comparison between My Year of Meats and Halving the Bones, take a look at last semester’s post “Fictional Documentaries.” Here, however, I would like to provide a few brief highlights from the interview that followed the showing of the film.
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At the beginning of the interview, Ozeki mentioned that she does not enjoy watching Halving the Bones anymore. Every time she does, she wishes she could get back into the film and reedit certain scenes. Earlier this week, she made a similar comment regarding My Year of Meats; she said she hasn’t reread the book in its entirety for quite some time. Although some sections might continue to impress her, others she wishes she could revise. When you read over work you produced a few years ago, do you feel the same? Do you think an artist or writer ever considers their work “complete?”
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Ozeki kept her mother informed about the documentary and sent her written copies of the questions she would ask. Ozeki also showed her mother the film once it was completed. During Wednesday’s interview, Ozeki mused that her mother, like anyone who sees him/herself for the first time on television, thought she looked bad and said the wrong things. How does knowing this affect your understanding of the film’s authenticity?
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When asked if she would ever return to filmmaking, Ozeki said yes—if someone handed her the necessary money on a platter, she would make another film. She loves the editing process and would enjoy returning to it. All of the art-making processes, it seems, contain multiple steps. Which part of the writing process do you enjoy most? What does Ozeki’s comment tell you about the differences and similarities between film and fiction?
I was thankful for the opportunity to visit with Ruth Ozeki and ask her questions about both her films and her writing. Her work makes us question the “truths” revealed through media as well as the capabilities of the cinematic and literary forms. Her visit certainly inspired a few thought-provoking questions. Feel free to respond to some of the questions I have posed or to come up with a few of your own.
