Brick & mortar bookshops
/
order via asterism.
(Praise for Schtinter’s
Schneewittchen.)
‘
Rather than look, I’d rather hear,’ says Snow White. ‘
I’m speechless,’ replies the prince, ‘
imageless at such an image.’ ‘
Woe unto me that I must hear,’ says Snow White. ‘
Woe unto us that I must see,’ replies the prince. In his third-order reenactment of the Grimms’ tale, Schtinter joins Monteiro and Walser in questioning our compulsion to endlessly repeat the same story, forever draw on the same details. In such a state of exhaustion, it might be better not to see or hear anything at all. But the film is not a plain negation, a repudiation of the cinematic culture of the remake, and although it participates in what might appear to be the degradation of its sources, it’s not parody. Schtinter remakes with careful ambivalence. He finds for us a place between speechlessness and imagelessness, between empty speech, exhausted image, and the new. In Walser’s text, Snow White ultimately accepts the queen and the hunter’s story. ‘
Say what you want.
I believe you.’ Refusal or affirmation? Snow in a silent winter world.
—Alec Mapes-Frances,
The Paris ReviewAlso on [Stacy Martin’s]
CV is Stanley Schtinter’s 2024 film
Schneewittchen, in which she played Snow White. Except it’s not on the
literal CV on her agency’s website, and its Letterboxd page vanished shortly after a 35mm print was screened at the BFI. (On the Wayback Machine, the top Letterboxd review goes: ‘
This just pissed me off.’) Martin explains, ‘
It’s an unconventional film in the sense that Stanley didn’t seek to put it in cinemas,
or give it to a streamer. It was about the experience of seeing it,
almost like a play,
where you go and see it,
and when it’s done,
it’s done.’
—Stacy Martin
in interview with Nick Chen
Dazed & Confused Schtinter’s newest moving-image work is
Schneewittchen, 2025, a feature-length, palimpsestic retelling of
Snow White. The film features almost no footage and is instead centred on an English-language audio recording of the Swiss writer Robert Walser's titular German play (published in 1901), itself a reworking of the Brother’s Grimm fairy tale (published in 1812). Schtinter’s film, with its minimal visual content composed largely of a black screen, interspersed with seemingly unrelated shots of passing clouds, is formally also a remake of the Portuguese director João César Monteiro’s feature film,
Branca de Neve /
Snow White (2000), which performed the same feat with a Portuguese-language version of Walser’s play. A remake of a remake of a remake, then. While on the surface another puckish engagement with cultural production, Schtinter’s film nevertheless functions as both a challenge to the culture industry’s amnesiac thirst for endless remakes of commercial dross and as a kind of Brechtian confrontation with the spectacular expectations imposed on a patronised viewing public (the two are intimately bound up with each other). The project further frustrates the conventions of easy access required of moving image works, which must now be available for dissemination in a myriad of digital forms, many of which make it at least feasible for the viewing public to watch works as isolated individuals in their own homes. Schtinter's film will, according to the artist, ‘only ever show in analogue format, so it will always be an event to travel to and never streaming or screening digitally.’ For Schtinter, the political power of collective viewing is something worth fighting for.
Talk of Brechtian distanciation, critiquing the culture industry, anti-capitalist stances, anti-spectacular image making and so on connects Schtinter to a critical tradition that may, in some ways, seem classically modernist. That is to say, there is an intention behind all of the work and a belief in something better for audiences and artists alike.
[...]
The ultimate agenda across Schtinter’s work, it seems, is an attempt to create a form of critical awareness regarding the destruction of certain intellectual and volitional faculties that humanity has fought to preserve over centuries—namely, the autonomy of thought and action.
—Morgan Quaintance
,
Art Monthly (No.483, February 2025)
Schneewittchen serves as a salutary reminder that Disney’s creative drive has for almost a century been extricable from the way it mines its own art for merchandising purposes.
—Arjun Sajip,
Sight & Sound