The notion of the ‘it’s all a dream’ or even dream sequences as a whole, have become something in cinema that is frowned upon; a cheap way of creating resolution. In a sense it’s the all-time greatest deus ex machina. However, I’d like to propose that when it is done properly it can be a beautiful and also a terrifying use of cinematic exposition.
In his essay, A Free Replay (notes on Vertigo), Chris Marker points out that “the second part of the film… is nothing but a mad maniacal attempt to deny time, to recreate through trivial yet necessary signs the woman whose loss he [Scotty] has never been able to accept”. Essentially what Marker means by this is that every scene after the sanatorium scene can be considered a delusional dream that Scotty has made up in which to provide closure to his grief. However I would consider it to be more than this. This is not to dismiss Marker’s approach and reading of the film, but rather to build up on it and to analyse it in terms of its construction.
The second half is peppered with small scenes in which we see Scotty tracing his journey so far, we see him at the restaurant where he first saw Madeline, the gallery where he watched Madeline watching the painting and sat outside her house waiting for her to come out. What is important about all three of these scenes is not the simplicity of the fact that he’s revisiting these places and expecting Madeline to be there, but rather the way in which Hitchcock has shown them to us. If you look carefully you’ll notice that they are all shot in the same way and they all occur at the same times of day as when he first went to them. So rather than these being actual events, they can be confirmed as being dreams; copies of an original memory with significant and poignant changes. Of course, the counter-argument to this is that Scotty doesn’t use the same mannerisms that he used previously and due to the obsessive persona he quickly adopts soon after these three scenes, we can assume that it is the foundations of his unhinged psyche. This counter-argument can quickly dismissed by pointing out that during the second half the hazy light that can often be seen behind them is very similar, if not the same, as the flashing lights and backdrops which are used in the more literal dream sequence in the middle of the film.
The idea that Scotty uses direct copies of memories in his dreams can also be noted in way in his he talks to Madeline and Judy. For example, he says to Madeline when handing her a brandy “drink this quick, like medicine” and then says the same thing to Judy when handing her one. There are also more iconic moments in the mirroring such as the way in which he sees Madeline’s suit on a stranger in Ernie’s.
If we also consider in the second half the way in which all the scenes are much shorter than in the first half. For example in the first half, the scene in which he follows Madeline is between 15 and 30 minutes long and in the second half, between 15 and 30 minutes may consist of Scotty’s meeting of Judy and the grinding down in which it takes him to transform her into Madeline. This quick-paced half is in principal, much more like a dream as they flutter past in quick succession, similar again to the more literal dream sequence. The final scene in which drives home this notion, is the sudden and abrupt ending and the way in which there is no actual resolution. Like a dream, the film just terminates without any resolution; nothing has been learnt and Scotty is not enriched as a person.
In his essay, Marker also notes the absence of Midge as a big turning point and an important thing to consider in terms of whether it is, or isn’t a dream. Also note that she leaves at the end of the first half and just a few moments before this actually says “you don’t even know I’m here”. Note that here is the point where she leaves is the point where Scotty abandons his only link with reality, therefore moving into his delusional dream-like status.
At the beginning of this essay I noted that dreams can be a terrifying use of cinematic exposition. I use this as no metaphor, analogy or figure of speech, but rather as a way of stating that what cannot be controlled is utterly terrifying. Dreams are something that we cannot control and something that we do not pick and choose. This wildness is what makes the dream sequence part of the scariest corner of cinema and what makes it so brilliantly beautiful at the same time.
Sunday 26 April 2009
Sunday 12 April 2009
Funny Games U.S.
The remake is something in cinema that is debatable. More often than not a remake is frowned upon and susceptible to negative criticism, simply because there is the hierarchy of the original. However, there are exceptions. The Thing and The Fly are in my opinion better than the originals, simply because they are greater achievements and all have a more personal directorial touch on them.
Remakes are also part of a trend. For example, The Ring; Dark Water and The Grudge were all part of a series of Eastern horror films that were remade for Western audiences, this trend of course is something that is still occurring with the remake of Oldboy that is currently in development. Although I haven’t seen the three aforementioned remakes I feel that what I can say to justify my refusal to watch them is that the spirituality, general eeriness and the sheer story-telling ability that these films posses will be lost in the translation from the Eastern to Western culture. This is not to say that the remakes will be by default significantly weaker than the Western remakes, such a generalisation would be a great misstep, rather that it could be argued that from such a cultural slide and transformation, the quality will be significantly reduced. In such examples, there’s also a certain degree of phenomenology to be recognised – I watched them first and enjoyed what I saw so much, that anything related to it afterwards cannot be matched. This perspective is also a misstep as there is no level of comparison from the original, it is simply a presumption.
A director remaking their own films though is something that is a rare occurrence. To my mind, there are two examples: Alfred Hitchcock and Michael Haneke. Hitchcock’s remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much is an interesting remake to mention, as the reasoning behind it is almost unknown. It has been noted (Stuart Y. McDougal in his essay The Director Who Knew Too Much: Hitchcock Remakes Himself) that Hitchcock constantly remade his own work; often remaking transitions between shots. Examples that I can think of include the following: scenes in Vertigo and The Wrong Man for their uses of psychiatric hospitals, both versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much; Psycho and Vertigo for their use of two narratives (think of this as two sections to the narrative), The Manxman and Vertigo for their use of attempted suicide via jumping into a river, the presence of birds as menace in the parlour scene of Psycho can also be linked to The Birds. There are also parallels between The Man Who Knew Too Much and North by Northwest in which the thieves force a character to be intoxicated and finally the sequence in The Thirty-Nine Steps can also be argued as being a remake of the Albert Hall sequence in The Man Who Knew Too Much. Although I may have run the risk of reading into these examples too much, it cannot help but be noticed that there was an obsessive side to Hitchcock and definitely a very passionate one.
Michael Haneke’s remake of Funny Games, on the other hand, is something much more curious. Not only did Haneke embark on remaking his own film, he remade it in another language and with another cast, something that can also be argued about Hitchcock’s two remakes. However, the crucial thing that separates Haneke and Hitchcock is that Haneke’s remake is an almost shot-by-shot remake, something that Hitchcock did not do. The point of making this connection is simply to establish that there is a drive within a small number of directors for perfection. These directors have found their happy medium in the form of genre and their auteurism, but are still driving to find perfection in the things that they know. This drive should not be considered as a weakness or laziness on their part, but rather a sense that they are striving to achieve the very highest quality of the things that they know.
Haneke’s remake is something of a curiosity though and the reasons why he remade the film may remain a mystery. To think about the reasons why this may have been done, it may be worthwhile looking at the themes and critical strands that the film explores. For example, the film has an outstanding critique of cinema and the media. This is typified in the way in which the fourth wall is broken and Michael Pitt’s character talks directly to the camera. The dialogue also makes references to TV characters like Tom and Jerry and Beavis and Butt Head. It also discusses cinematic language and at one point discusses narrative theory and exposition. Perhaps the most overt link to narrative exposition is the way in which Peter is killed and Paul rewinds with the TV remote what has happened and then changes the events so that Peter is not killed. Michael Pitt’s final stare into the camera also provides a certain sense of circular narrative, that everything is not going to be alright but the previous day’s events have come full circle and will simply occur again.
It was 10 years between Funny Games and Funny Games U.S. and although it is simply the same film, it cannot help but be felt that the film’s themes and notions of cinematic exploration have matured; developing a greater sense of achievement and essentially the film has a new target – the American audience. Although it is unclear where the film was aimed at first time round, it is quite clear where this one is aimed at, with the Hollywood norm being at the centre of the target.
As for Hitchcock, Haneke and the notion of the remake, it is something that is going to continually be developed and something that will continually be used. Remaking is a staple of the film industry, albeit one that may be frowned upon, but it will still be one that will characterise perfection. Haneke and Hitchcock aren’t too dissimilar in the way in which they both are masters at their own game. Hitchcock struggled for perfection and acceptance on a level that cannot quite be paralleled, but Haneke’s films are not far from it.
Remakes are also part of a trend. For example, The Ring; Dark Water and The Grudge were all part of a series of Eastern horror films that were remade for Western audiences, this trend of course is something that is still occurring with the remake of Oldboy that is currently in development. Although I haven’t seen the three aforementioned remakes I feel that what I can say to justify my refusal to watch them is that the spirituality, general eeriness and the sheer story-telling ability that these films posses will be lost in the translation from the Eastern to Western culture. This is not to say that the remakes will be by default significantly weaker than the Western remakes, such a generalisation would be a great misstep, rather that it could be argued that from such a cultural slide and transformation, the quality will be significantly reduced. In such examples, there’s also a certain degree of phenomenology to be recognised – I watched them first and enjoyed what I saw so much, that anything related to it afterwards cannot be matched. This perspective is also a misstep as there is no level of comparison from the original, it is simply a presumption.
A director remaking their own films though is something that is a rare occurrence. To my mind, there are two examples: Alfred Hitchcock and Michael Haneke. Hitchcock’s remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much is an interesting remake to mention, as the reasoning behind it is almost unknown. It has been noted (Stuart Y. McDougal in his essay The Director Who Knew Too Much: Hitchcock Remakes Himself) that Hitchcock constantly remade his own work; often remaking transitions between shots. Examples that I can think of include the following: scenes in Vertigo and The Wrong Man for their uses of psychiatric hospitals, both versions of The Man Who Knew Too Much; Psycho and Vertigo for their use of two narratives (think of this as two sections to the narrative), The Manxman and Vertigo for their use of attempted suicide via jumping into a river, the presence of birds as menace in the parlour scene of Psycho can also be linked to The Birds. There are also parallels between The Man Who Knew Too Much and North by Northwest in which the thieves force a character to be intoxicated and finally the sequence in The Thirty-Nine Steps can also be argued as being a remake of the Albert Hall sequence in The Man Who Knew Too Much. Although I may have run the risk of reading into these examples too much, it cannot help but be noticed that there was an obsessive side to Hitchcock and definitely a very passionate one.
Michael Haneke’s remake of Funny Games, on the other hand, is something much more curious. Not only did Haneke embark on remaking his own film, he remade it in another language and with another cast, something that can also be argued about Hitchcock’s two remakes. However, the crucial thing that separates Haneke and Hitchcock is that Haneke’s remake is an almost shot-by-shot remake, something that Hitchcock did not do. The point of making this connection is simply to establish that there is a drive within a small number of directors for perfection. These directors have found their happy medium in the form of genre and their auteurism, but are still driving to find perfection in the things that they know. This drive should not be considered as a weakness or laziness on their part, but rather a sense that they are striving to achieve the very highest quality of the things that they know.
Haneke’s remake is something of a curiosity though and the reasons why he remade the film may remain a mystery. To think about the reasons why this may have been done, it may be worthwhile looking at the themes and critical strands that the film explores. For example, the film has an outstanding critique of cinema and the media. This is typified in the way in which the fourth wall is broken and Michael Pitt’s character talks directly to the camera. The dialogue also makes references to TV characters like Tom and Jerry and Beavis and Butt Head. It also discusses cinematic language and at one point discusses narrative theory and exposition. Perhaps the most overt link to narrative exposition is the way in which Peter is killed and Paul rewinds with the TV remote what has happened and then changes the events so that Peter is not killed. Michael Pitt’s final stare into the camera also provides a certain sense of circular narrative, that everything is not going to be alright but the previous day’s events have come full circle and will simply occur again.
It was 10 years between Funny Games and Funny Games U.S. and although it is simply the same film, it cannot help but be felt that the film’s themes and notions of cinematic exploration have matured; developing a greater sense of achievement and essentially the film has a new target – the American audience. Although it is unclear where the film was aimed at first time round, it is quite clear where this one is aimed at, with the Hollywood norm being at the centre of the target.
As for Hitchcock, Haneke and the notion of the remake, it is something that is going to continually be developed and something that will continually be used. Remaking is a staple of the film industry, albeit one that may be frowned upon, but it will still be one that will characterise perfection. Haneke and Hitchcock aren’t too dissimilar in the way in which they both are masters at their own game. Hitchcock struggled for perfection and acceptance on a level that cannot quite be paralleled, but Haneke’s films are not far from it.
Sunday 5 April 2009
Red Road
Red Road is the first feature by British born filmmaker Andrea Arnold and in all honesty, it is a noticeable first film. Although there are elements of the film that are worthy of interest and discussion, the majority of the film is weak; badly written and under-developed.
Supposedly the film has been inspired by a conversation between Lars Von Trier, Lone Scherfig and Anders Thomas Jensen, whereby they decided upon a concept for a series of films whereby the same characters must be used, but three separate films are made. Although in concept it seems to be sound and genuinely quite interesting, the problem with this is that the potential of the concept simply doesn’t shine through, leaving the film seem entirely unbelievable and essentially they are lost and never to be picked up on later.
The film itself follows a lonely Scottish CCTV operator named Jackie as she becomes fascinated with a mysterious man she sees through one of the cameras. In principle it could be said that the film’s themes in the first half are worthy of attention – isolation; desperation; curiosity; and the banality of being a low to middle class Scottish woman – all of which would have made the film a much more enjoyable experience had they been explored in greater depth and the film’s centrality being simply those themes and how they impinge on contemporary Scottish society. This form of realism would have made the film so much more intriguing and made the “apparent” Dogme nature of the film become much more vibrant. The other problem with the realism of the film is that it appears, aesthetically at least, to be quite a sleek and well constructed film and had the notions that the film’s themes explore in the first half been explored it would have created an interesting combination of loneliness, bitterness et al along with a cold and often unforgiving mise-en-scene. The two would then have complimented one another beautifully, creating an interesting blip within contemporary Scottish cinema, however it simply is not so and the film does little to rouse attention to that particular cinema.
The last half of the film is shot in a haphazard way that has now become so synonymous with realism that it is recognisable from a mile off and when coupled with the sleekness and stylisation that the first half exudes, it leaves a confusing text that is so much so that it becomes almost a novice mistake that a more developed and matured director wouldn’t have made. It is this second half that creates such a weakness within the film that it leaves you wondering why you even bothered sitting through the first half to begin with. The male character Clyde for example has such poor and ill-fitted dialogue that it renders all realistic and believable character traits to almost nothing and the supposed “hard man” character becomes nothing more than a laughing stock for the remaining thirty minutes of the film.
However the structure of the film itself is competent and well balanced, the shocks and narrative twists are well-timed, leaving the audience satisfied with a semi-decent narrative construction that sadly seems so boil-in-bag it becomes another rookie mistake. What must be admired about this element of the film is that it is essentially quite bold to leave all character depth shallow and minimal until the very end of the film, but if were one so inclined as to cast their minds back to any basic generic thriller or horror film from any other director one would note that this technique has been used a thousand times before and also with greater and more impressive results.
The aesthetic tools of the film such as the cinematography and editing are also at times well crafted and the created a sense of tension that links well to the themes outlined in the first half of the film, but they are not so well sharpened as to leave a lasting impression and are somewhat lost within the next ten minutes of screen time by yet more confused dialogue and acting.
There are some more notable points that the film raises such as the level of graphic sexual content that a small Scottish film will present and to link with this, it could be worth noting how this will impinge on issues of feminism via the way in which the camera lingers on the sexual acts of the film, however there are too many weaknesses in the film that are easily apparent to make such a worthy discussion of these issues. It could also be said that the uses of the sexual content and also the way in which the lead male character talks so sexually explicitly have only been used because it is apparently shocking, whereas one could argue that such levels of sexual content and language actually provide little narrative purpose and details and that using them becomes pointless.
On the whole, Red Road is a semi-decent piece of cinema that although there are intriguing and attention-grabbing elements of the film, there are too many things wrong with the film which make it overall a confusing and bewildering film, with too many reels that are absurd, ludicrous and peppered with character actions and dialogue which simply would not happen, thus exacerbating the already weak sections of film.
As for the concept of ‘The Advance Party’, let’s just hope that the other two films are better because if they are similar to Red Road then the concept will fall flat on its face and will not be able to stand up again.
Supposedly the film has been inspired by a conversation between Lars Von Trier, Lone Scherfig and Anders Thomas Jensen, whereby they decided upon a concept for a series of films whereby the same characters must be used, but three separate films are made. Although in concept it seems to be sound and genuinely quite interesting, the problem with this is that the potential of the concept simply doesn’t shine through, leaving the film seem entirely unbelievable and essentially they are lost and never to be picked up on later.
The film itself follows a lonely Scottish CCTV operator named Jackie as she becomes fascinated with a mysterious man she sees through one of the cameras. In principle it could be said that the film’s themes in the first half are worthy of attention – isolation; desperation; curiosity; and the banality of being a low to middle class Scottish woman – all of which would have made the film a much more enjoyable experience had they been explored in greater depth and the film’s centrality being simply those themes and how they impinge on contemporary Scottish society. This form of realism would have made the film so much more intriguing and made the “apparent” Dogme nature of the film become much more vibrant. The other problem with the realism of the film is that it appears, aesthetically at least, to be quite a sleek and well constructed film and had the notions that the film’s themes explore in the first half been explored it would have created an interesting combination of loneliness, bitterness et al along with a cold and often unforgiving mise-en-scene. The two would then have complimented one another beautifully, creating an interesting blip within contemporary Scottish cinema, however it simply is not so and the film does little to rouse attention to that particular cinema.
The last half of the film is shot in a haphazard way that has now become so synonymous with realism that it is recognisable from a mile off and when coupled with the sleekness and stylisation that the first half exudes, it leaves a confusing text that is so much so that it becomes almost a novice mistake that a more developed and matured director wouldn’t have made. It is this second half that creates such a weakness within the film that it leaves you wondering why you even bothered sitting through the first half to begin with. The male character Clyde for example has such poor and ill-fitted dialogue that it renders all realistic and believable character traits to almost nothing and the supposed “hard man” character becomes nothing more than a laughing stock for the remaining thirty minutes of the film.
However the structure of the film itself is competent and well balanced, the shocks and narrative twists are well-timed, leaving the audience satisfied with a semi-decent narrative construction that sadly seems so boil-in-bag it becomes another rookie mistake. What must be admired about this element of the film is that it is essentially quite bold to leave all character depth shallow and minimal until the very end of the film, but if were one so inclined as to cast their minds back to any basic generic thriller or horror film from any other director one would note that this technique has been used a thousand times before and also with greater and more impressive results.
The aesthetic tools of the film such as the cinematography and editing are also at times well crafted and the created a sense of tension that links well to the themes outlined in the first half of the film, but they are not so well sharpened as to leave a lasting impression and are somewhat lost within the next ten minutes of screen time by yet more confused dialogue and acting.
There are some more notable points that the film raises such as the level of graphic sexual content that a small Scottish film will present and to link with this, it could be worth noting how this will impinge on issues of feminism via the way in which the camera lingers on the sexual acts of the film, however there are too many weaknesses in the film that are easily apparent to make such a worthy discussion of these issues. It could also be said that the uses of the sexual content and also the way in which the lead male character talks so sexually explicitly have only been used because it is apparently shocking, whereas one could argue that such levels of sexual content and language actually provide little narrative purpose and details and that using them becomes pointless.
On the whole, Red Road is a semi-decent piece of cinema that although there are intriguing and attention-grabbing elements of the film, there are too many things wrong with the film which make it overall a confusing and bewildering film, with too many reels that are absurd, ludicrous and peppered with character actions and dialogue which simply would not happen, thus exacerbating the already weak sections of film.
As for the concept of ‘The Advance Party’, let’s just hope that the other two films are better because if they are similar to Red Road then the concept will fall flat on its face and will not be able to stand up again.
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