Friday 23 July 2010

... And the screen ordered me to observe the screen.

I understand the pains of the film industry. I really, really do. I know it's hard to "get a film out there", especially if it's a low budget picture, or if it doesn't have any big names attached to it. Then, of course, there is the ever-present dark cloud of piracy that constantly hangs above the heads of filmmakers and cinema-owners like a mysterious smell they're too polite to mention. It doesn't help that movie studios are asking for more and more from the theatres - in both profits and distribution (For instance, in order to be able to show Transformers 3: Versus Jason, you have to agree to show our newest hipstersploitation flick for a couple of weeks). This being said, I understand why people can be defensive of their films, and to be honest, I don't even blame them for slapping this in front of their feature.


However, what I do feel is silly is very generic ads, that simply tell me to watch movies. I'm sure everyone has seen at least one of these. They're an odd species because they aren't technically anti-piracy ads, they're more just... celebrations of film. Or, more specifically, celebrations of cinema. They're usually just compilations of coming attractions with a somewhat smug announcer saying something along the lines of "This summer, there's only one place to catch the adventure (Stallone face), the romance (Jennifer Aniston face), the laughs (Adam Sandler face or sometimes John Belushi face even though he's been dead for almost thirty years) and the fun (Latest Pixar movie face)". However, the ads seem somewhat... pointless. I can understand an anti-piracy spot, but simply telling me to watch movies? When I've already paid to see a movie? What's the real point - at least stick an anti-piracy message in there somewhere.

The thing is, this wouldn't transfer to any other medium. If you're reading a book, you don't expect to find a blank page halfway through with two words in the middle reading "Read Books". Can you imagine if Nintendo tried to do this? "Aren't video games fun!" Mario barks at you as you once again plummet into merciless darkness, as if he is mocking you. If placed in front of the wrong movies, these ads would be mocking, in all honesty. I think the final insult to any gentleman dragged to see Romantic Comedy #1342 (International title The Bounty Hunter) would be an ad telling them how much fun they're about to have.

I have no problem with cinema owners making sure I know that pirating films is bad, and that I get a dimished experience, but why not just come out and say that? Also, when I go to see Inception, don't make me watch clips from 27 Dresses, dangit.

Friday 16 July 2010

Thoughts on Inception (Solipsism done right)

I don't really intend to enter into the bold and unforgiving world of "film reviews" anytime soon. Not because I don't think I'm qualified enough to write a review (although I'm certainly not) or that my opinion doesn't matter enough to warrant a review being written (it certainly isn't), or that there are better reviewers than me anyway (Goodness me there are). It simply isn't in the spirit of the blog; I don't want to write reviews, I want to write overly-analytical, bothersome explorations of films!

On top of this, Inception is terrifically difficult to talk about anyway, because the films plot details have been kept so wonderfully concealed so far that to talk about pretty much anything could diminish the effect of the film. Oh right, yeah, it's really, really good, too. Just needed to slip that in somewhere.

So, what I'm going to do is talk about a few ideas in the film without actually spoiling plot details as I know how difficult it is to simply "stop reading" something (but, I should add I would consider the ideas in a film to be some of the most important aspects). Ready? Okay. Inception is a film concerning Solipsism. It doesn't really start that way, but it moves there eventually. However, Inception is not like The Matrix; it does not tell us our lives are illusions. The films message seems to be the delicious one that solipsism on it's own is dangerous enough (and the idea certainly is a destructive one). "The idea" - "the cancer" referred to in the film is the fallibility of being awake. "They come here to wake up".

The movie asks the audience if we can distinguish between reality and dreams, then ingeniously makes its dream sequences as realistic as possible. Both in terms of believability, and the fact that on several ocassions we're unaware we're even in a dream at all, to really drive the theme home. Of course, the film falls back on the sci-fi setting, so the questions don't really apply to us, but they at the very least raise the interesting topic of debate (and again in a more interesting way of just telling us the world in the film is fictional). It's unclear what side the film takes on the solipsism debate though; on the one hand the movie would lack the "catharsis" Cobb says is required if the notion of solipsism wasn't conquered in some form; however, what's conquered may not be the idea of solipsism so much as it's negatives effects. I will be spoiling the final shot of the film now, and although I don't think it will really damage viewing of the film, it may be better to avoid reading my thoughts on it if you haven't seen it yet. The final shot shows Cobb reuinited with his children; he is happy, finally, after so much strife and so much torture from his own subconcious. We see the top is still spinning over their laughter, and while it does seem to slow down slightly, we don't see it fall. The top throughout the movie, the "totem" is something that keeps the characters certain of where they are; that they are the dreamer, or at least are viewing the world unaltered. The fact the top is left spinning at the end of the film seems to be suggesting the possibility that Cobb remains in a dream (though I doubt he actually is) - however, he is happy. Does it really matter if Cobb is dreaming? He's happy now, finally.

Truth may be beauty, but most models are miserable.

Thursday 15 July 2010

Why I love single-set movies.

Many people, when confronted with the notion of being in a single location for over an hour (goodness, sometimes even two hours) will kick and scream and fuss until I eventually agree to watch the latest large-scale world-traversing feature epic. Haha, just kidding, no one out-fusses me.

I recently was lucky enough to be able to see the 2009 film Exam. The basic plot is that a group of people are put into a room for 80 minutes in order to complete an exam, where they're unsure of the question, have a strange set of rules they must follow and can't really trust each other. The movie was refreshing because the characters were actually smart enough to mean they didn't waste 10 of their precious minutes rolling around on the floor crying "WHAT DO WE DO?!? WHAT DO WE DO??" No, they all actually had reasonable ideas, and worked quickly and decently together. Characters true colours are revealed as the film progresses, and we get to see just how bad these characters want the job they're competing for. The characters are well developed (there are some real assholes) and the set moves enough so that the single-set works. It also helps they play with the lighting a bit too.
Now the film isn't perfect; it suffers from some hammy acting, a couple of equally hammy plot points and a touch of hammy dialouge, making for a very hammy movie and I imagine a dish for aquired taste.

You may have heard about the film Buried which turned a couple of heads at Sundance. The film stars Ryan Reynolds, buried in a very confined space underground. You stay with Reynolds the entire movie (no flashbacks!), making the number of camera angles and lighting effects extremely limited. The film recieved generally positive feedback, and any actor able to carry a movie on their own is truly deserving of the highest praise (Sam Rockwell practically did this with last years sadly overlooked Moon).

So why do I love these (arguably) visually dull movies? Simple: They're writers movies. Films and stories in general are, almost without exception, pushed forward by characters and character action. When a film isn't held back by it's set (ironically, most films with a low number of sets are held back... by their budgets), the audiences attention is strictly on the characters. It's why many still claim theatre to be the purest form of screenwriting.

Simply put, whenever we see a movie with only one or two sets, we know we're in for an emotional whirlwind that usually leads to a startling catharsis for the characters. Would Twelve Angry Men as been have memorable (especially this many years later) if it included a court scene? If we saw the titular angry men at home before arriving at the courthouse? No. The film is still relevent because the people don't matter. Their names certainly don't, and their backgrounds are only important when lending information to their decision.

Would Hard Candy have been so... Hard to sit through... if it hadn;t have taken place in one small apartment? If it had been a frantic chase throughout a city, or if investigating "crime scenes" were incoroprated in some way? Say what you will about the film (I certainly have), but it knows what it needs, and it knows how to use what it has.

I advise you all to watch one of the films I've mentioned (Seriously, watch 12 Angry Men if you haven't), even if you don't like it, it will at the very least give you something to think about. To risk sounding cliche, and I'm sure like every single film teacher in the world; do we really need massive heaps of CGI to keep us interested? Sweeping landscape shots I accept in fantasies, but not when they serve to distract (sometimes intentionally) from lazy writing.

I'm looking at you, unobtanium.

"Why is Oldboy called Oldboy"?

My interpretation of a question I've seen asked a few times before (warning: obvious spoilers for Oldboy, which you should certainly have seen already goodness gracious)

Obviously Oh-Dae-Su mentions the oldboys in the final apartment scene, however that line was totally ad-libbed; so why is it so important to the film? Dae su was locked up for fifteen years, where he allowed his hate to consume him, and become the often-mentioned "monster". He becomes focused on revenge and most of his personality is dominated by surpressed rage and hate, much like Daniel Plainview from There will be Blood (though Plainview was born a monster rather than made one, according to the films logic on genes).

Dae su was put into the hotel, and for fifteen years, he strived on the most basic emotion, and had only one idea to focus on; revenge. His mind stayed stationary as time slipped by. During those fifteen years, Dae su did not develop, he did not change and he certainly did not mature. He became "book smart", sure, he had TV. However, emotionally he remained impriosned in his loathing for his host, and for fifteen long, miserable years, he was stuck. If anything he reverted to being more childish, focusing on the most basic emotion of anger.

Dae Su's mind was denied the ability to develop, however his body never stopped growing. He became a child trapped in the body of an old man; and old boy. The actors who played Oh-Dae Su and Woo-Jin-Lee seem a tad young to be playing characters we assume are around 35-40 - this is because the characters lives were literally put on hold by their quest for revenge (the actors playing Oh-Dae-Su and Woo-Jin-Lee were born in 62' and 76', with the film being released in 2003).

Tuesday 13 July 2010

Movie critic martyrdom, and why it's bad for the industry (and humanity!)

I'd like to speak a moment about something I find quite troubling. Something quite childish.

I've noticed a large group of people are going to see movies, either with the preconception or certainty before entering the cinema, that they hate. People who are seeing films that they despise - people seeing bad films (Note: I don't mean enjoyably bad films, I loooovvveeeee me some Troll as much as the next guy) knowing full well they won't enjoy them. Why do they do this? They do it to justify their hate. These are not critics who have to watch these poor productions; they are just harpers.

An example: People who see the Twilight ironically. These people will pay money in order to view a film for the sole purpose of knowing that they were right, and that the series is bad. They're not seeing it hoping they're wrong and thinking they'll find some enjoyment out of the film, nor are they seeing it to laugh at how bad it is. They choose to torture themselves, simply so they can be the voice of criticism. I am troubled by this for two reasons:

1. It is giving money to bad filmmakers. This is similar to how countless numbers of people watch reality TV knowing it's bad, but watching because they seem to enjoy knowing "stupid" people watch the show, and seeing how "stupid" people are entertained. A Mitchell and Webb sketch commented on this, with the terrific line "they still show up the same in the ratings". We should not encourage mediocrity.

2. People do it so they can complain. Let's be honest here; people love to complain. We do it about everything; our jobs, work, our friends, food, the human race, entertainment, celebrities, sports and literally everything else possibly imaginable. It may come from the fact that people enjoy fighting, or more importantly, we enjoy winning fights. However, fights are now pretty hard to come by, and complaining is sort of as close as we can get now. It's a one sided fight; listing the faults of something, and being smug when you get through the list. Complaining will also eventually lead to meeting someone with a differeing opinion (a Twilight fan), leading into a fight ("FINALLY!!!" I imagine is what most complainers would tihnk).

It would be a mass understatement to say I don't care for the Twilight brand (in fact I feel it to be one of the worst things to happen to art in its entirity in a while), so I don't see the films. I'm guilty of complaining about them, but my dislike for the series doesn't require me torturing myself; I know I won't like the films, my experience with the books has left me breathless with confusion and uncomfortable itching. I'm not going to reward the makers of Twilight for doing this to me, why would I?

I'm just going to carry on complaining when in actuality it's probably not fair to do so. If you've got a problem with that, we can take this outside.

Welcome all.

I assume the minute number of people who have currently stumbled upon this blog are hardcore film nerds, and if this assumption is correct, then you may rest your weary eyes and tired hearts here. I understand. I understand the frustration of having to hear the piercing, cold words "you're thinking too much about it", or, even worse; "it's only a film".

Consider this a haven for those who think overthinking anything (especially art) is absurd. For those of you have have been up way past your bed time arguing with SOME JERK about the symbolism behind Twin Peaks, or carefully re-watching Planet of the Apes trying to keep track of all the communist metaphors.

So what can you expect from the blog? Well, I confess to being somewhat ignorant of exactly how these things work, but I'll basically be posting deconstructions of films, explorations of themes of misc. musings on the art of film making. I am absolutely not claiming to know more about movies than over movie geeks, or possibly even more than the average film-goer. I am simply sharing my opinions, which I am inflated enough to believe may be interesting, or, at the very least, inspire debate amongst my more interesting readers.

Ciao for the moment.