Archive for the ‘Film’ Category
In the Woody Allen and Douglas McGrath 1995 film, Bullets over Broadway, fictional playwright David Shayne (John Cusack) is on par with fictional playwright turned screenwriter Barton Fink (John Turturro) in the Coen brothers? 1991 film of the same name, Barton Fink. Each character is conflicted by the stereotypical questions that face all authors, such as:
? From where, what or whom does inspiration come?
? What constitutes art, one creator?s original idea or collaboration?
? What is the value of art or artist and how is that value recognized?
? In what ways does the art belong to the author as well as the audience?
? At which point does that private to public transference take place when dictated by capitalism?
? Does this transference to the public realm devalue the art, the artist, both or neither?
What makes each character?s experience realistic in both films is the fact that their moral and ethical struggles in relation to the convergence of idealistic art and life?s monetary motivation are born out of authentic human experience.
Moving into “Chapter 5: Acting” of Barsam’s Looking at Movies, it’s interesting to learn about the ways in which acting techniques have evolved in relation to increasing capabilities of technology. Moving from theater to silent film, to camera with sound, to sound separate from the camera has provided increased actor/audience intimacy and morphed into more natural character portrayals over time.
While this reads as a natural progression, what this technological growth has meant for acting is a regression from a more naturally performed, chronological performance. At present, many takes and set-ups are required and dependence upon location determines the shot sequence rather than narrative order. It?s no wonder that Forrest Whitaker made such an effort to be Idi Amin in Kevin McDonald’s The Last King of Scotland, off the set as much as on. The vast number of performance interruptions can only be a distraction from the feel of the story as a whole. Amin, as a man, was so intense that to slip in and out of character would have been far more difficult than to sustain that constant level of intensity.
The audience is left to believe certain conventions about the life of writers in films like John Madden?s Shakespeare in Love, James Lapine?s Impromptu and Brian Gilbert?s Wilde. There is often a love interest, one that inspires passion and thus story (or, as in the case of Oscar Wilde, self awareness), yet this passion tends to reside outside the institution of marriage. The writing is always done?following the passionate living that inspires it ?and this passion must include sex. We see art written for the solicitation of money rather the romantic notion of art for art?s sake. To be productive, a personal, quiet space (often in the country) is necessary but an artistic community is also essential for inspiration and critique. And, of course, every writer does the bulk of his or her writing through the far more boring process of revision, which is sometimes portrayed and sometimes simply referred to. Success comes when art imitates life and life is worthy of such imitation. Each of these conventions, or some variation on them, are also incorporated into the fictional authors in the Coen Brothers? 1991 film, Barton Fink.
The ways in which we, as an audience, assign meaning to film is fascinating. In some ways we have unwittingly learned alongside Hollywood?s developing experimentation. Of course, another way to spin it is that Hollywood has studied?natural behavior long enough to categorize and name the filming processes that invoke certain audience perceptions and reactions. I believe that this has clearly been a joint venture.
From the Birds
In raising birds, I?ve learned a great deal about their visual language. When one wishes to exert power over another, he or she stands taller and looks down upon the flock. Those who offer submission bow their heads and agree to be led. Like dogs, birds are comfortable in either role as long as they know which behavior to assume. In my experience with macaws, amazons?and cockatoos, the human must become the alpha bird or flock leader to establish order. Otherwise, and trust me on this, these highly intelligent beings know how to manipulate humans (through screaming, biting, destructive chewing, etc.) and they will take control in a hurry. To establish the alpha position, human eye level must be elevated above that of the bird at all times. If the tables do turn, they can be reversed again through this simple act of elevation (and a great deal of patience).
In Brian Gilbert?s Wilde, Oscar Wilde (Stephen Fry) says of the male escorts? he meets through Lord Alfred ?Bosie? Douglas (Jude Law), ?Such flowers never could grow in the harsh light of day.? This comment is more than a simple scripted line. It is the basis for much of the film?s mis-en-scene. For the filmmakers, homosexuality becomes a descent into darkness in terms of secrecy, invoking the necessity for Wilde to hide his true identity from the social critics of his time. This theme is strategically played out through the careful use of lighting in both interior and exterior scenes.
In scenes representing homosexuality, although brilliantly colored, the rooms are?also dimly lit and contained by dark walls. The first inkling of Wilde?s desire for young men is depicted when he descends into the darkness of the Leadville, CO mines and yet is guided by ?angels.? When Bosie sings at the piano, the dark wood interior makes his light gray suit and honey colored face stand out. All the young faces glow and these fresh flowers of men flourish in this type of light. Wilde wears white and also shines brightly within the scene, a film gesture than not only represents his eccentric taste, but his desire to reclaim his fearless and confident youth. In the hotel, this pattern is repeated. The costumes coordinate Wilde?s solid yellow suit with Bosie?s yellow and gray plaid. Bosie wears a yellow rose in his lapel coordinating with Wilde. Each shines brightly against the dark wood paneling. A shift is foreshadowed when Bosie learns of his brother?s death and is consoled by Wilde. The two sit in a very dark room huddled on the couch. Blinding light from the outside outlines their bodies morphing together into a nearly unrecognizable shrinking silhouette. The flowers appear to be wilting as they become smothered by the harsh scrutiny of Bosie?s father, Marquess of Queensbury (Tom Wilkenson).
In Chapter 3 of Barsam?s Looking at Movies, I found the segment on costumes fascinating. Aside from obvious stylistic creations, I had assumed that accuracy of period costumes was of the utmost importance to filmmakers. This assumption is, in part, due to my singular and ridiculously unimportant role as an extra.
In June ?06 I made my film debut in Peter Schnall?s The Revolution, a thirteen part?series made by The History Channel. (Reruns are airing as I type). It captures a few quick glimpses of me in five of those episodes posing as both a middle and lower class colonial woman.
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Historical accuracy in this?project was not just the main directive, it was a passion. The costume designer was so knowledgeable that she explained where certain pieces of clothing got their name and most of the actors personally owned authentic Redcoat and American Revolution uniforms, seeking this type of film for a living.
The sequel to a previous post…
In?response to a classmate who believes that French author Madam George Sand (Judy Davis) in James Lapine’s 1991 film Impromptu, is?”attracted to Chopin [(Hugh Grant)] because she unconsciously learned to be more feminine like he was,” I’d like to respectfully disagree.
Prior to Sand’s pursuit of Chopin, she is already quite feminine as demonstrated through her clothing throughout the film. As a child, she wears a dress and has long hair. Sand’s bed clothes in the very first scene are traditionally frilly with ruffles, bows and layers. At the first party where she is to meet her publisher, Chopin’s presence yet unbeknownst to her, Sand wears a rather eccentric dress/pants combination, but somewhat of a silken embroidered dress with a bow in front all the same.
When she visits her mother prior to engaging in her relationship with Chopin she wears a conservatively elegant cloak and, when her mother dies, Sand’s mourning dress is a traditional black gown and her hair is traditionally upswept. Perhaps Sand entertains the idea of being fit for a more traditional dress when in pursuit of Chopin, but she also tries moving in the opposite direction by buying men’s clothing. Overall, I’d say Sand is never portrayed as strictly masculine nor feminine, but rather the perfect embodiment of both at once.
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My first introduction to Aurore “George” Sand, the French author, has come solely from my viewing of director James Lapine?s Impromptu. Having never read?Sand’s work, nor any form of a biography, I have come to the topic with no preconceived notions. This film’s limited window into Sand?s life provides the opportunity for an interesting experiment. I?d like to compare my first impression of Sand as directed by Lapine with that produced by acquiring additional information. Will my initial understanding be supported, contradicted or enhanced by some quick research? Let?s find out.
When Young Aurore (Lucy Speed) first appears, she is a child running through the wilderness away from an authoritative voice calling her name. She arrives at a self-made altar of stones among the ferns growing at the base of a tree. There she kneels and prays:
Hear me, O Corambe. Corambe, thou who art man, woman and god in one, hear me. I free this bird in thy name. Come to me, sublime being. I want to know the meaning of life. And I want to find perfect, perfect love. I free this lizard in thy name. [To lizard] Don?t be dead. Oh, balls.
This shot dissolves to reveal Madame ?George? Sand (Judy Davis) seated at a desk writing her memoirs.
While there are plenty of facts to rough out an historical timeline, Shakespeare’s personal life is a mystery to the most diligent of biographers. On the contrary, While John Madden?s Shakespeare in Love constructs events and meanings which appear to be factual, the lines between Madden?s depiction and Shakespeare’s reality?are heavily?blurred. Early scenes are representative of the humble beginnings of the notorious Bard, and verisimilitude exists simply from what we know about narrative. We know historically that Shakespeare becomes successful, but to become successful means that he was not always. The audience can thus identify with certain probabilities and forgive those symbolic depictions that do not align with the Shakespearian time period.
Historical Accuracy Vs. Contemporary Culture
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One such example is the way the film portrays a lack of inspiration in the process of writing. Will (Joseph Fiennes) sits at a modest desk in a sparsely furnished room. With ink stained fingers, he repeatedly scrawls and crosses out his name with a quill, perhaps focusing on the perfect signature to a masterpiece he has yet to begin. One can imagine him asking himself, ?Where to start?? Dissatisfied with even his imperfect signature, he crumples the parchment, tosses it into the trash, and sticks the quill into an apple. The trash lands in a small, open trunk alongside what appears to be well preserved and organized manuscripts. The message reads as if success has turned sour, dried up, run out. Although the imagery is effective, one might ask if Shakespeare, a writer of little wealth at the start of his career, would waste ink and fresh sheets of valuable parchment on a signature only to toss them into the trash? It?s not likely but, because paper is such an inexpensive and widely available commodity in America now, we accept the symbolic portrayal of frustration in balled up sheets of misshapen thoughts without question. Understanding narrative construct and cinematic language, rather than realism, is what convinces the audience.
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I still see things that are not here. I just choose not to acknowledge them.
- John Nash,?A Beautiful Mind
I?m your average Jane when it comes to movies. As a member of Netflix, I?ve opted for the one-movie-at-a-time-for-$6.99 package. The only technical film operation I am familiar with is filling my online movie queue, checking snail mail, and pressing “play.” Thank goodness for Richard Barsam?s guide, Looking at Movies: An Introduction to Film. Without it, the lexicon used both in the production/direction and analysis of film would be lost on me. The closest I have come to analyzing film technique, aside from story, is when I found porn in my genealogical research. Essentially, until now, I’ve prefered to see without really looking.
That said, and since?class didn?t officially have to write for today, I?m just going to wrap up Chapter 1, ?What Is a Movie? for myself. You?re welcome to read along.
To summarize ultra-simplistically, a film is both form and content inextricably intertwined on celluloid (unless it?s digital). That?s the easy part. It?s the myriad ways in which form and content can be manipulated that blows my mind:
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Through the camera lens (as both perspective and frame)
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Coexpressibility of time and space (parallel edits and montages)
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Lighting (chiaroscuro: a term that describes contrasts of light and dark which I?m thrilled to recognize from an oil painting class)
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Via the constructed illusion of realism and the opposite, or antirealism (fantasy, sci-fi, thrillers)
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Striving for verisimilitude: a convincing appearance of truth based on ?realistic? expectations as well as a filmmaker?s and audience?s mediation of conventional and innovative cinematic language (scenes, sequences, dissolves, etc.)
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Through a flexible dependence upon the conventions and overlap of genres and subgenres
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Narrative or fiction (action, biopics, comedy, fantasy, film noir, etc.)
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Non-fiction (factual, instructional, documentary, propaganda)
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The conflation of both via historiographic metafiction (This note is my own written especially for Michael)
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Animation (drawing, puppet or clay animation, pixilation, computer animation)
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Experimental film (Un Chien Andalou ? An Andalousian Dog, as the book translates – is on?UbuWeb if you want to see it. The eyeball scene is a trip.)
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In the end, it is all simply an illusion of movement ? but a complicated one at that. And so here we end where we’ll begin another day…
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FoYoInfo: English Department Visiting Scholar
Jim Collins Lectures on Film and New Media
April 8th, 7-9 p.m. in Saint Joseph Hall
Does anybody wanna go?
(The old Postmodernism gang perhaps?)
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PS: How odd to be reading?references to the filming of?Brokeback Mountain on the day that Heath Ledger was found dead.







