Photographs of missing children are some of the most haunting images of contemporary Western society. Wilson contends that the loss of a child is perceived as a limit-experience in contemporary cinema, where filmmakers attempt to transform their means of representation as a response to acute pain and horror. She explores the representation of missing and endangered children in a number of the key films of the last decade, including Kieslowski's Three Colours: Blue, Atom Egoyan's Exotica, Todd Solondz's Happiness, Jane Campion's The Portrait of a Lady, Lars von Trier's The Kingdom, and Almodovar's All About My Mother.

Children have been a part of the cinematic landscape since the silent film era, yet children are rarely a part of the theoretical landscape of film analysis. Lost and Othered Children in Contemporary Cinema, edited by Debbie C. Olson and Andrew Scahill, seeks to remedy that oversight. Throughout the over one-hundred year history of cinema, the image of the child has been inextricably bound to filmic storytelling and has been equally bound to notions of romantic innocence and purity. This collection reveals, however, that there is a body of work that provides a counter note of darkness to the traditional portraits of sweetness and light. Particularly since the mid-twentieth century, there are a growing number of cinematic works that depict childhood has as a site of knowingness, despair, sexuality, death, and madness. Lost and Othered Children in Contemporary Cinema challenges notions of the innocent child through an exploration of the dark side of childhood in contemporary cinema. The contributors to this multidisciplinary study offer a global perspective that explores the multiple conditions of marginalized childhood as cinematically imagined within political, geographical, sociological, and cultural contexts.

This book argues that over the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the cinema in Britain became the site on which childhood was projected, examined, and understood. Through an analysis of these projections; via case studies that encompass early cinema, pre and post-war film, and contemporary cinema; this book interprets the child in British cinema as a device through which to reflect upon issues of national culture, race, empire, class, and gender. Beginning with a discussion of early cinematic depictions of the child in Britain, this book examines cultural expressions of nationhood produced via non-commercial cinemas for children. It considers the way cinema encroaches on the moral edification of the child and the ostensible vibrancy and vitality of the British boy in post-war cinema. The author explores the representational and instrumental differences between depictions of boys and girls before extending this discussion to investigate the treatment of migrant, refugee, and immigrant children in British cinema. It ends by recapitulating these arguments through a discussion of internationally successful British blockbuster cinema. The child in this study is a mobile figure, deployed across generic boundaries, throughout the history of British cinema and embodying a range of discourses regarding the health and wellbeing of the nation.

This collection seeks to broaden the discussion of the child image by close analysis of the child and childhood as depicted in non-Western cinemas. Each essay offers a counter-narrative to Western notions of childhood by looking critically at alternative visions of childhood that does not privilege a Western ideal. Rather, this collection seeks to broaden our ideas about children, childhood, and the child’s place in the global community. This collection features a wide variety of contributors from around the world who offer compelling analyses of non-Western, non-Hollywood films starring children.

To say that children matter in Steven Spielberg's films is an understatement. Think of the possessed Stevie in Something Evil (TV), Baby Langston in The Sugarland Express, the alien-abducted Barry in Close Encounters,Elliott and his unearthly alter-ego in E.T, the war-damaged Jim in Empire of the Sun, the little girl in the red coat in Schindler’s List, the mecha child in A.I., the kidnapped boy in Minority Report, and the eponymous boy hero of The Adventures of Tintin. (There are many other instances across his oeuvre). Contradicting his reputation as a purveyor of ‘popcorn’ entertainment, Spielberg’s vision of children/childhood is complex. Discerning critics have begun to note its darker underpinnings, increasingly fraught with tensions, conflicts and anxieties. But, while childhood is Spielberg’s principal source of inspiration, the topic has never been the focus of a dedicated collection of essays. The essays in Children in the Films of Steven Spielberg therefore seek to address childhood in the full spectrum of Spielberg’s cinema. Fittingly, the scholars represented here draw on a range of theoretical frameworks and disciplines—cinema studies, literary studies, audience reception, critical race theory, psychoanalysis, sociology, and more. This is an important book for not only scholars but teachers and students of Spielberg's work, and for any serious fan of the director and his career.

This book brings together a host of internationally recognised scholars to provide an interdisciplinary perspective on the representation of the child in cinema. Individual chapters examine how children appear across a broad range of films, including Badlands (1973), Ratcatcher (1999), Boyhood (2014), My Neighbour Totoro (1988), and Howl's Moving Castle (2004). They also consider the depiction of children in non-fiction and non-theatrical films, including the documentaries Être et Avoir (2002) and Capturing the Friedmans (2003), art installations and public information films. Through a close analysis of these films, contributors examine the spaces and places children inhabit and imagine; a concern for children's rights and agency; the affective power of the child as a locus for memory and history; and the complexity and ambiguity of the child figure itself. The essays also argue the global reach of cinema featuring children, including analyses of films from the former Yugoslavia, Brazil and India, as well as exploring the labour of the child both in front of and behind the camera as actors and filmmakers. In doing so, the book provides an in-depth look into the nature of child performance on screen, across a diverse range of cinemas and film-making practices.

In this, the first full-length treatment of the child in Spanish cinema, Sarah Wright explores the ways that the cinematic child comes to represent ‘prosthetic memory’. The central theme of the child and the monster is used to examine the relationship of the self to the past, and to cinema. Concentrating on films from the 1950s to the present day, the book explores religious films, musicals, ‘art-house horror’, science-fiction, social realism and fantasy. It includes reference to Erice’s The Spirit of The Beehive, del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth, Mañas’s El Bola and the Marisol films. The book also draws on a century of filmmaking in Spain and intersects with recent revelations concerning the horrors of the Spanish past. The child is a potent motif for the loss of historical memory and for its recuperation through cinema. This book is suitable for scholars and undergraduates working in the areas of Spanish cinema, Spanish cultural studies and cinema studies.