Showing posts with label film essay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film essay. Show all posts

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Are You Sure You're Ready for Your Closeup?

"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up."

When Norma Desmond utters this famous line in Sunset Boulevard, it's understood that this imaginary closeup is in a movie about her and this is the moment where we are to experience what she is experiencing. This is what closeups are meant to do. They reinforce a subjective moment. But I've noticed that closeups are being used incorrectly. Directors are unwittingly creating objective moments when they're striving for the exact opposite.

My father, of all people, noticed this trend first. I had seen the The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and been unimpressed when everyone else was going ga-ga over it. When it came to a second-run theater, I figured I'd give it another shot and asked my dad if he wanted to go. When we were walking out of the theater, I asked him what he thought. All he mentioned was the amount of closeups of Frodo and his big eyes. I had wanted a little more of an answer so I kind of dismissed it at the time. It was only when I was watching The Two Towers and felt as apathetic as I had to the first film that I began searching for words to describe my experience. Claustrophobia came to mind and I recalled my dad's words. When I began looking for closeups, I realized my dad's answer was the more I had wanted 'cause there's a ton of them. Rather than creating the expansive feeling that these movies deserve, I felt like I in Bilbo's house in Bag End.

A slightly different problem is that action movies are being filmed in what might be called a cinema verite style. Paul Greengrass's Bourne Supremacy is an example of this. Cameras are handheld and are close to the subject creating an entire movie of closeups. When I saw the movie in the theater, several people I was with had to leave because they were nauseous. Much of Batman Begins, as great a movie as it is, is filmed in the same way. And yet at one point in that movie, it is the perfect choice.

The first time we "see" Batman being Batman is in the warehouse. An exchange of goods between criminals is being made. One by one, Batman is taking out hoods. Growing paranoia sets in among them because they don't know what's going on. Finally, the big showdown comes. This is one of the best scenes of the movie. Batman comes from above and sets down among a number of men, promptly dispatching all of them. At no point do we ever see him completely. It's a hand here, a foot there, a bit of cape. Sometimes we only see a body fall.

Now why does this scene work so well when all of the other fight scenes seem so confusing? It is because in that scene, we are the hoods and not Batman. We are seeing things through their eyes, and to them, it is confusing. We intellectually know that they're being attacked by Batman, but from the moment we step into the warehouse, the movie is from the point of view of the hoods. In all of the other fight scenes, we are Batman.

Now, I don't know about you, but if I got into a fight, I don't think I would have any idea what would be going on. It would be a flurry of fists, pain, and maybe a little joy if actually managed to land a punch. But to fight effectively, as Batman does, you need to counter the person you're fighting. You need to know what is going on in the fight. But all of Batman's fight scenes are filmed in such a way that we can't know what is going on. We are left to guess. And if we are guessing, we are not Batman, and if we are not Batman, then the movie has failed.

The same can be said of Bourne Supremacy. I think it is a very good movie, and perhaps could have been better than Bourne Identity, but Identity understood that Jason Bourne knows how to fight, and so we should have that experience as well. But Supremacy's fight scenes are a jumbled mess. Again, we have been separated from the character we are meant to be with. We are not involved in the fight. We are watching it.

Asian cinema, which has been dealing with intricate fight choreography a bit more than its Western counterpart, seems to understand this. Perhaps it only came from a desire to show the choreogrpahy, but the lesson is still there and the Wachowski brothers certainly learned it. Can you imagine The Matrix without seeing Neo cartwheeling through the air?

The failure of The Lord of the Rings is slightly different. While it's fight scenes have the same problem, it's the true closeups that are its biggest flaw. Peter Jackson doesn't understand how we feel about these characters. The books are large and sweeping and the movie should feel the same. The characters are archetypes, the quest has ramifications on the world. This is not a John Cassevetes movie. But Peter Jackson seems to think he can make the movie something it is not.

Closeups are a trait of his. They show up in King Kong but here they work because he sees this movie as a relationship between a woman and a large ape. Though the movie is a grand adventure, every time it focuses on their faces, we are a part of this relationship.

It's disheartening to see this coming from such fine directors who make so many other great choices. I haven't seen United 93 but I hope that Paul Greengrass used this style for that movie as he did so effectively with Bloody Sunday. I want to be with those people on that plane.

In the end, these directors have two choices. They can either follow directors as varied as Alfred Hitchcock, Martin Scorsese and Paul Thomas Anderson and find stories that fit their styles. Or, they can follow Steven Soderbergh and Gus Van Sant and find styles that fit the stories.

So what's it going to be, guys?

Monday, July 17, 2006

Movie Watching

The movie is about what happens to you while you watch it. So, pay attention -- to both the movie and your response. If you have reactions to, or questions about, what you're seeing, chances are they'll tell you something about what the movie is doing. Be aware of your questions, emotions, apprehensions, expectations.

--from Jim Emerson's blog, Scanners

My girlfriend and I had a rather heated argument recently over (surprise) a movie. This tends to happen fairly frequently as we come at movies differently. She's more a casual movie watcher. Notice I use the word "casual" here and not "entertainment." As in, "Oh, I watch movies purely for entertainment." I'm not taking anything away from them, but I'd like to know what I'm doing. Watching movies to decrease my blood pressure? I happen to be entertained by movies, period, and I'd like to reclaim that right. I just don't happen to like only "up-beat" movies. I say that a well-made "depressing" movie brings me more joy than a poorly made piece of fluff. A well-made piece of fluff? Well, that's just fun.

That's basically where this argument started, over, of all movies, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. My girlfriend loved it. I didn't. I wanted a well-made piece of fluff. What I got was drudgery interspersed with fun. But what really got me was the end. (Don't worry, you can keep reading. I won't spoil anything.) Because there's this long scene which is boring and unnecessary and meandering and, UGH! I hated it! I kept asking myself, "What are we doing here?" Sure, plot stuff is resolved, but there were a hundred different ways to do it better.

So I'm sitting there...waiting...for something, when, boom! Surprise ending! Fade to black.

And everyone's ecstatic! "Oh, dude, that was awesome!" Everyone except me. Because I'm sitting there, still pissed off about the pointless scene that came before. And then I'm amazed at these people around me. Can they really have forgotten what came before? I'm saying they were as bored as I was, they just didn't realize it. Yes, I'm speaking for them. (And this is where my girlfriend got really pissed. Mostly because I told her she was bored. No, she was entranced by Orlando Bloom.) Perhaps that makes me an elitist asshole. I'm sorry. When a surprise comes along, they're so excited that they forget everything that came before. The whole movie could have been crap, but they don't care.

Why do we let movies get away with this? Would we do this with food? If I'm forced to eat a pile of green beans and then at the end, I'm suddenly rewarded with Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, am I thrilled? No. I'm pissed off.

It runs deeper than this, though. I went to a movie a while ago with some friends and a preview came on that was truly funny. I forget for what. My friends were laughing hysterically. I was, too. The whole theater was. When it ended, not one comment. Then a preview for Dumb and Dumberer came on. I listened. My friends maybe chuckled once. Audience, largely quiet. When it finished, what do my friends say? "Oh, we've got to see that!"

We've got to pay attention to what we're watching. We've got to realize when we're bored. We've got to realize when something's funny. We must pay attention to what we're seeing and how we're reacting. I don't think this is something that only critics should do. We owe it to ourselves. We can have better movies.

That same week, my girlfriend and I went to see Little Miss Sunshine. It, my friends, is a great movie. My girlfriend loved it. What was great was when she said, "You know, I really liked Pirates until I saw this movie." It's the long way around, but that's what I'm talking about.