E.T.: Evaluating Tzinema

So I couldn't make the post's title work.

I watched E.T. last week, because even though I knew I'd seen it as a kid, I didn't remember anything. It was good.

What struck me was how confused I was about how to write about it.

Usually, I like to think about a film's composition, which includes cinematography, editing, and tone. But not every movie is as controlled as The Godfather or Manhattan or (well, it is) American Beauty.

Take, for example, E.T.

It isn't as if Spielberg (or his cinematographer) didn't know what he was doing--in fact, I think they did, and have a few thoughts on that for another time. But composition wasn't priority numero uno. As long as an audience sees the characters, how they are seen doesn't have to be a big deal.

And when that happens, you have to take other aspects of the film into account. Here's a quick what-for of things to keep in mind:

Character development. When I wrote a paper on Tootsie for a class, this was what I really looked at. It's important to remember that plots occur as characters interact, so the ways each reacts and changes are the focus (mild pun intended) of the film. A character's strange circumstance might be what makes the film good.

Acting. Something I hardly ever pay attention to (but should), because I usually only think about it when it's very bad. Acting is fun to think about when you throw subtitles up, because scripts usually don't have inflections and accents written in. The way an actress acts/interprets will change the final product an audience sees. Actors too.

Script/Writing. Not just actresses can change it. A script will lead the story one way or another, if the director lets it. Same thing with paying attention when it's bad, but think about it, and quotes that touch you, or make you laugh, and writing can have a real effect on a movie.

Music. Every film has music! (for Mike: okay, only mostly every one). And you whistle it afterward, and the tone is heroic, or sad, or evil, or angry, and think how it'd be if there wasn't any music behind "I'll...beee...riight...heeere." Still a big deal, but not so emotional. I know.

Composition. Of course! It is called a motion "picture" for a reason. Even when a film isn't controlled, the various effects of shots and film itself mean different things for the final product. A close shot, an establishing shot, a shot of one thing with another sound underneath...it's something I'm usually very aware of when I see a movie, or an informational short, or a commercial, or a news story, or any other thing that involves video.

In some of these other terms for E.T. (I didn't forget you!), Elliott's character--nerdy, out of place--means a great deal to the events of the film. Spielberg knew it, and showed a "real" kid who played with Star Wars toys coming to love an alien. It can seem over the top at times, but I imagine an audience is willing to give a little kid the space to show some extra emotion. It didn't have to be perfectly-acted, or perfectly-shot. It's fun, and a good story about some kids and an alien...and that's how Spielberg made it.

To send you off, an iconic shot from the film.


lol.

Far Indeed

Todd Haynes' contributions to the film industry have been monumentally overlooked by many, including myself. After a Bob Dylan stint that led me to consume most of the singer-songwriter's music and other secondary content (e.g. Tarantula, No Direction Home, Chronicles, Vol. 1, etc.), I naturally came across I'm Not There (2007). In it, Haynes satisfies many a film-junky's appreciation for literary, film, and cultural allusions to diverse high-brow joints. Rimbaud, Fellini, and Godard come to mind. Haynes' savviness and pronounced respect for older genre pieces are abundantly clear in his many homages to Hollywood melodrama.

Far From Heaven (2002) doesn't just allude to many elements of Sirkian melodrama. It's more overt than that, and intentionally so. The film co-opts most of the German virtuoso's melodramatic formulae, including a markedly progressive preoccupation with race and gender issues (see Imitation of Life if you're interested). The film's plot twists are predictable, unsurprising, and frankly, melodramatic.

What sets Haynes' film apart from older melodrama is its almost post-structural treatment of "homosexuality," a new-ish phenomenon in the time period. Frank Whitaker's (Dennis Quaid) unspeakable "problem" leads him to seek out clinical treatment. In the '50s setting of the film, "homosexuality" was considered a disease that, as Mr. Whitaker's clinician states, was often treated with hormonal rebalancing therapies and electroshock treatments in order to allow the patient to "lead a normal life." The film's presentation of various psychotherapeutic treatment strategies for queer people channels the "deployment of sexuality" within typical family structures (i.e. the then-new concept of the "nuclear family") discussed by prominent post-structuralist scholar, Michel Foucault. The notion of "abnormal sexualities" outside of the family unit and their subsequent medicalization/problematization are captured impressively in the film.

All in all, the film is definitely worth checking out for its visually captivating cinematography and its refreshingly thoughtful take on sexuality issues.

The Day Brando Died

The first SFFS short ever! Check it out:

Film as Social Protest?

[Theatre] teaches theatergoers to make history…rather than passively suffer its imposition.

-Brecht

Below I've attached an excerpt from a presentation I delivered in April, which compared social protest theatre's efficacy (read Taking it to the Streets by Harry Elam, Jr. if you're interested in the topic) to film's limited ability to rouse social change.

"How can one make film into a positive performative beyond the film space? Obviously, with blockbuster films like Avatar, people aren’t flocking to protest on the lawns of the White House over predatory military conduct. After watching films like Avatar, people do what they do after every trip to the local multiplex—nothing.

This is not the case with all films. If you look back at films from the past that have caused noticeable social change—“social change” here refers to any action, not necessarily activism—two stick out. The Warriors, a film that glorifies gang violence in late 1970s New York, led to multiple assault & vandalism charges after its release. A Clockwork Orange, released in 1971, led to police claims that the film instigated macabre sexual assaults.

Both films idealize "character." Neither one claims authenticity. In fact, the American Film Institute considers A Clockwork Orange “science-fiction." Like El Teatro Campesino & Black Revolutionary Theatre, these films offer extreme portraits and loose archetypes rather than probing psychological studies or strictly mimetic symbolism. However, both films lack a moral compass."

Next semester, "Film as Performative" will be one of SFFS' main themes. We'll see if we can't figure out why film has a limited capacity to create positive social impacts.

F**K 3-D

Hey Y'all

As the title hints at, I do not like 3-D. I despise it. I thought Avatar sucked. Of course it's incredibly fucking stunning (especially when you see it on a real IMAX screen), but after 40 minutes of awful filler that they called "plot" and Sam Worthington's paltry attempt at acting I had to endure two more excruciating hours of crap. He had to wait so long for them to build the technology so he could create this world, why not spend some of that time on the script, ya know? But my anti-Avatar rant is not the point. With its success 3-D is def going to hang around even for just a little while. So go here and read the Pulitzer Prize winning film critic Roger Ebert trash this new revolution in the industry. So comment or let's talk about this at a meeting.

Also for all of your viewing pleasures:

Silvio Rodríguez

Adam's last two posts on music videos inspired me to go on Youtube and look up some videos of music I enjoy. Embedded in this post is a live performance from Silvio Rodríguez, a Cuban songwriter famous in SPAN301 classes for the plethora of subjunctive verbs in the song "Ojalá."

Even though it's not a music video per sé, it's a good example of how to capture a songwriter's craft using film techniques. In this video you'll notice that the wideness of the shot corresponds to the volume and mood of the song. The beginning is soft and melodic. The camera's trained on the musician's face. As soon as the chorus hits, the camera pulls away and reveals pieces of artwork that inform the content of the song.

Check it out:

Oren Lavie - "Her Morning Glory"

Yeesh that must've taken them a hella long time (don't get any ideas Michael).