In 2008, Stephen Daldry directed another well written film, The Reader, which I’ve only just now ashamedly got around to seeing.

One of the film’s strengths is its masterful handling of the preparation, exploitation and resolution of dramatic irony. It is this handling that so strongly emphasizes the difference between ‘telling’ and ‘showing’ in narrative development.

In the case below, the audience and the sympathetically sullen security guard know what’s befallen Hannah, but, alas, Michael does not.

After the setup, Daldry skips the initial revelation: that of the guard telling Michael what’s happened. We cut away a heart beat before the news is broken. All we see is the guard’s expression but we know her mind instantly. It is a prime example of non-verbal communication.

Furthermore, it is a more sophisticated handling of the release because it avoids a potentially course and affected delivery of the inevitable explanation.

More importantly, however, it avoids unnecessary redundancy. The audience at this point is used to the understated style and knows how to read this situation without being told. There’s a subtly in the editing of the story that seems so obvious as to negate not only it’s own subtlety but also any other means of its unfolding.

Alternatively, we have numerous clues to Hannah’s motivation along the way that illustrate the reversal of this situation, the opposite of dramatic irony: Hannah is the owner of knowledge to which the audience is not privy.

For example, there is no given explanation until later in the film why after receiving a promotion, Hannah is upset.

Her story makes use of the same philosophy of brevity exemplified in the previous example with Michael. Like the security guard’s answer, Hannah’s motivation is withheld for dramatic effect – a dramatic effect that more closely matches the silence of and gaps in real life. Indeed the film hangs by the thread of this hidden motivation and becomes a masterful exploration of it in the process.

Overall, the strength of this film lies in its ability to deliver and withhold relevant information at the right time. It uses primarily both dramatic irony and flashbacks to accomplish this.

The unfolding of a narrative is such a delicate balancing act. The Reader is an example of when it’s done correctly – and when it happens correctly, you get some really great story telling.

At the Vancouver French Film Festival last night, I was bombarded with two outrageous ads from the Canadian Cancer Society.

One appeared to offer support to those recently diagnosed with cancer by providing a free help line for questions. At first glance, pretty reasonable. At second, all I could see was a reinforcement of the stigma surrounding the issue: The scene showed a concerned friendly female doctor inform one of her patients she has cancer. Fair enough. Suddenly at diagnosis, the patient pales and all sound fades to a distant room as the message sinks in as if it were a death sentence. We glimpse the terror of death and the unknown that this poor woman must now face.

Now, I understand the mortality rates for cancer patients but to imply that this is the only reaction – the one every one will have is poor taste. This woman is your every day just middle aged educated western easy going socialite slash soccer mum. If blood drains from her face, her lips slightly part at the mention of cancer than it probably means that cancer is meant to be feared unconditionally. If you aren’t scared than you aren’t truely informed or cancer hasn’t touched your life. Let’s continue to spread the fear – great motivation for an ad campaign.

Well shot and cut with good actors.

The second was a blatant lie disguised as a courageous act: The ad likened a mammogram to a child and her mum looking under a bed to make sure there were no monsters hiding there. It can’t hurt to make sure, right? The small child is the patient locked in fear, and the mum is the educated friendly guide to help you overcome your fear. If this isn’t patronizing it’s certainly not accurate.

The fact that mammograms actually increase your rate of cancer by 2% is little known. The fact that doctors often refuse to treat patients unless they agree to regular mammograms displays an outrageous handling of medical procedure by the cancer industry. The ethics of proactive preventative diagnosis has not been adequately investigated.

Identifying cancerous cells is not as clear cut a process as we are led to believe. Different pathologists will diagnose differently. With the continued threat of malpractice suites, are these pathologists going to under-diagnose, or over-diagnose?

These ads are obviously targeting women, trying to instil in them a fear of cancer in order to support a secretly ethically dubious industry. Shocking stuff.