I am going to start this by saying for the record that I am not a film critic, I have no aspirations as such, and I would be a horrible one because I am far too harsh and I hate everything. All of this said I would like to make a proclamation about my deep frustrations with the modern “prestige picture,” critical praise, and the realm of adaptation of both of texts and real life. I focus my attention on the nearly universally acclaimed The Social Network.
First, let me say that I did not hate this film, despite that fact that I am about to complain about it. It was a perfectly pleasant film, not bad but certainly not the film of the year or “the film for a generation.” Average, and better than most crap out, is my opinion. In case this isn’t apparent: THIS IS NOT A REVIEW.
My qualms are in the film’s praise: to label a great film as it has been, implies its importance of existence as “cinema” “art” etc and some sort of greater relevance to the medium in general. To elevate a film in this way is to imply its greater cinematic value. I mean this in a simple sense, probably best explained by looking at the development of auteur theory, elevating certain directors from popular classical Hollywood. (Hawks, maker of popular genre films, is an artist! etc).
So this is from where I read The Social Network. Actually, this is from where I read all Oscar-bate type films, or films that suddenly garner grand amounts praise the way that this film has. What is its greater cinematic value, how is it contributing to the arts? Why am I supposed to care more about this film over the random fair normally in theaters?
In order to examine and answer these questions in relation to The Social Network, we need to have a greater discussion of its genre, the “based on a real story film.” With this sort of film, where one can look up the story online and know all the facts of what happened, I always have to ask Why does this film need to exist? What is it offering the viewer outside of the facts? Or is it merely documenting, or mis-documenting, what happened with prettier looking people playing the roles? This kind of adaptation should exist to portray something greater than merely what happened. Cinema is greater than real life and the viewing experience should offer some of the qualities that make it the unique art form. Give me montage! Give me long takes! Sound, score, mise-en-scene. Enthrall me! Move past the reality of continuity, you are already portraying reality.
Now, I recognize that what I have just said is an idealized vision. And many films can, will, and should be without all of the qualities, as merely fact tellers. And that is perfectly fine…for the ordinary film, not for these critically prestigious films. They must move beyond enjoyable narrative value into a new realm.
And this is where my frustrations with The Social Network begin. Where has is the director? The qualities of past David Fincher are gone, in place or ordinary camera style, continuity, fast cuts, blah blah blah boring. Only one scene, I feel, retains a Fincher-esk quality. Twin brothers row in a competition, a stylized score playing in the background, quick cuts and the thrill of competition. It feels like a violent battle a la Fight Club on screen. Yet it is jarring when compared with the ordinary tone of the rest of the film, and only serves to highlight its weakness in what I have described as the idealized based "on a true story film." Shot-reverse-shot, let’s watch the characters talk…the story does all the talking and not the filmmaking.
The original subject matter then is the star of the show, not the film. The screenplay is also the one doing the talking, but it is not my intention to get into the success of failure of the screenplay in the circumstances of the film: how Sorkin made a story from fact and if it is good. That is the job of a critic. I want to highlight how the film can be whittled down to merely its bare bones story and a screenplay to determine if it is good. Then the critic is merely writing whether or not they liked the original subject matter, nothing more. Mark Zuckerberg creates facebook, screws over some people in the process. I asked myself watching, anyone could have film this: the name on the film should be Aaron Sorkin, for making some real events into a cohesive story, not David Fincher… or simpler the film should just proclaim itself to be a group of people acting out the invention of facebook. And while I can sit in the theater and not be angry watching the results of these efforts and even be enjoying myself, when I see a unanimous praise for the film as “modern filmmaking at it’s finest” I can’t help but turn bitter.
My final question is this: is the standard for “great” films today for low because critics are willing to praise things undeserving? Films are made for money profit with the non-blockbuster type it relies favorable film reviews to garner interest (particularly films with not many a-list stars). Grand idea: what if critics were harsher, would that garner more interest in making better films, more experimentation etc? I site my beloved New Wavers for example: pre-new wave Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol etc ragged on how bad the system was and how much crap there was, only to reinvent everything. Critics I know you’ve all seen The Rules of the Game, how can you place praise on mediocrity knowing that there is such perfect possible within the medium. Cinema is a remarkable medium and it deserves to offer viewers so much more. I am not sure if this is a criticism of the critics for dulling out such praise or the filmmakers for offering merely this mediocrity. But both should know better.
-M
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
“I want to become immortal and then die:” More Breathless Discussion
Part two: Death and Karina
This is second section Ben and I look at Breathless in relation to Godard’s beliefs as an existentialist and how that contributes to a discussion about death in both a Sartre-ian and Heidegger-ian sense. Also, we then look at the film as the only standing Karina-less film: Breathless stands before the rise of his muse and his infamous love affair.
Ben: since we are on the topic of death...a while back i was going to say three things that make breathless lovable: the first was postcard Paris, the second I think is the existentialist aspects of it
particularly its fascination with death… I hate that word… and most of the time it is ascribed to films, like Bonnie and Clyde or something, I think it doesn't fit
Monica: existentialist?
Ben: but this movie is really "existentialist" in a few senses
Monica: right, its like his ode to Sartre and i think it comes from a much more sincere place than most "existentialist" films
Ben: not only Sartre, but mostly Heidegger I think: Michel realizes that death is his only "own most" possibility that is his or films labeled that. He asks Patricia does he? "Do you think about death...I think about it all the time.” And the film begins and ends with death. it is him struggling to create a new identity with knowledge of his own most possibility of death…and Patricia's musing about the relationship between happiness and freedom is right out of being and nothingness as you suggested earlier.Is this then seen by his unwillingness to flee in the end
Monica: right
Ben: He wanted it all or nothing and since he couldn't have it all. He took nothing
Monica: I am not totally following, because I feel like all of that is because of his loyalty to Patricia
Ben: right
Monica: His failure, that limits the individualization of his death, was in completely identifying himself with another person and not with himself. That is why he had to die. He’s not being towards death, he’s being towards love
Ben: Right,
Monica: That is why he is an inauthentic character.
Ben: Why?
Monica: I mean I can name a number of reasons, but they have nothing to do with what we are discussing. An existentialist hero much recreate themselves and their value system and be a true individual. His identity is wrapped up in someone else, Bogart, etc. and the woman. He is never an individual then she is the existential hero. She refuses to be rapped up in someone else
Ben: But she has no authentic identity, her values conflict. She spends much of the film confused
she helps him steal the car not understanding the potential of her identity. And she prostitutes herself for her job. That is not very authentic
Monica: The ending then is her realization of her individuality. She says she’s confused through out, constantly
Ben: I don't think so, She did it out of fear. To keep her passport and she ran after him in the end even then we get the sense that she regretted it
Monica: Please allow me to be feminist sir: does she regret?
Ben: she runs up holding her heart
Monica: Its all a matter of how we are reading her, because I find her empowering
Ben: Lets do a thought experiment: could you imagine Karina playing Patricia?
Monica: no
Ben: Its funny that Godard's two most well known films don't have Karina, this and Contempt. Why not though? The answer may reveal something
Monica: The first thing that comes to mind is because Patricia is more thoughtful
Ben: But Karina waxes continental with the philosopher in the cafe in my life to live? But in a way I guess you are probably right though. Her character is usually a lovable klutz
Monica: Karina as a persona is the girly girl, even when not playing dumb she’s the beauty, the object of lust
Ben: right, there is no coincidence that she is twice as attractive as Seberg. She is more idiosyncratic though than Bardot
Monica: Patricia while Michel keeps trying to sleep with her, is not discusses as the beauty, she’s discussed as something else. She is the "funny" one
Ben: but I feel like Karina is like that too
Monica: But Patricia talks about how there are prettier girls than her etc
Ben: Right but he prefers her to the pretty girls
Monica: But it’s not that way with Karina. With Karina, the camera gazes at her,obviously because Godard was in love with her. So she’s always the prettiest one, even if in reality she’s not
Ben: That’s probably right…also back to the subject of death. Patricia is going to get an abortion, another subtext of death
This is second section Ben and I look at Breathless in relation to Godard’s beliefs as an existentialist and how that contributes to a discussion about death in both a Sartre-ian and Heidegger-ian sense. Also, we then look at the film as the only standing Karina-less film: Breathless stands before the rise of his muse and his infamous love affair.
Ben: since we are on the topic of death...a while back i was going to say three things that make breathless lovable: the first was postcard Paris, the second I think is the existentialist aspects of it
particularly its fascination with death… I hate that word… and most of the time it is ascribed to films, like Bonnie and Clyde or something, I think it doesn't fit
Monica: existentialist?
Ben: but this movie is really "existentialist" in a few senses
Monica: right, its like his ode to Sartre and i think it comes from a much more sincere place than most "existentialist" films
Ben: not only Sartre, but mostly Heidegger I think: Michel realizes that death is his only "own most" possibility that is his or films labeled that. He asks Patricia does he? "Do you think about death...I think about it all the time.” And the film begins and ends with death. it is him struggling to create a new identity with knowledge of his own most possibility of death…and Patricia's musing about the relationship between happiness and freedom is right out of being and nothingness as you suggested earlier.Is this then seen by his unwillingness to flee in the end
Monica: right
Ben: He wanted it all or nothing and since he couldn't have it all. He took nothing
Monica: I am not totally following, because I feel like all of that is because of his loyalty to Patricia
Ben: right
Monica: His failure, that limits the individualization of his death, was in completely identifying himself with another person and not with himself. That is why he had to die. He’s not being towards death, he’s being towards love
Ben: Right,
Monica: That is why he is an inauthentic character.
Ben: Why?
Monica: I mean I can name a number of reasons, but they have nothing to do with what we are discussing. An existentialist hero much recreate themselves and their value system and be a true individual. His identity is wrapped up in someone else, Bogart, etc. and the woman. He is never an individual then she is the existential hero. She refuses to be rapped up in someone else
Ben: But she has no authentic identity, her values conflict. She spends much of the film confused
she helps him steal the car not understanding the potential of her identity. And she prostitutes herself for her job. That is not very authentic
Monica: The ending then is her realization of her individuality. She says she’s confused through out, constantly
Ben: I don't think so, She did it out of fear. To keep her passport and she ran after him in the end even then we get the sense that she regretted it
Monica: Please allow me to be feminist sir: does she regret?
Ben: she runs up holding her heart
Monica: Its all a matter of how we are reading her, because I find her empowering
Ben: Lets do a thought experiment: could you imagine Karina playing Patricia?
Monica: no
Ben: Its funny that Godard's two most well known films don't have Karina, this and Contempt. Why not though? The answer may reveal something
Monica: The first thing that comes to mind is because Patricia is more thoughtful
Ben: But Karina waxes continental with the philosopher in the cafe in my life to live? But in a way I guess you are probably right though. Her character is usually a lovable klutz
Monica: Karina as a persona is the girly girl, even when not playing dumb she’s the beauty, the object of lust
Ben: right, there is no coincidence that she is twice as attractive as Seberg. She is more idiosyncratic though than Bardot
Monica: Patricia while Michel keeps trying to sleep with her, is not discusses as the beauty, she’s discussed as something else. She is the "funny" one
Ben: but I feel like Karina is like that too
Monica: But Patricia talks about how there are prettier girls than her etc
Ben: Right but he prefers her to the pretty girls
Monica: But it’s not that way with Karina. With Karina, the camera gazes at her,obviously because Godard was in love with her. So she’s always the prettiest one, even if in reality she’s not
Ben: That’s probably right…also back to the subject of death. Patricia is going to get an abortion, another subtext of death
Thursday, June 3, 2010
"If you don't like this classic, you can go get stuffed!" Breathless Discussion (Part 1)
In honor of the 50th anniversary print of Breathless, currently playing at Film Forum, I sat down to examine the film's relevance, aesthetics, and intrigue with my friend Ben, who I would best describe as a Godard fanatic. What is interesting before reading our examination is to know that both of us entered the discussion intent on ripping to the film shreds. Ben dislikes Breathless in relation to the complexities of the rest of Godard’s body of work, while I find myself becoming more and more frustrated with its historical sentimentality while lacking any actual emotion. While attempting to articulate these ideas, we instead re-glorified the film and its importance in history. And perhaps that is the overall power of Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless.
Due to the length, I have divided the discussion in several parts.
Part one: aesthetics and gender
Monica: So why don't you lead the discussion: how do you feel about Breathless?
Ben: Out of breathe
Monica: Is it the defining film of the new wave? Or just a novelty?
Ben: There is no wave kill your idols
Monica: "'New wave' is neither a movement, nor a school, nor a group, it's a quantity, it's a collective heading invented by the press to group fifty new names which have emerged in two years (59-60)."
Ben: It’s a product for you to spend money on and for horrible docs to be made about and for classes to be taught about and for books to be written about good advertising though
Monica: For our purposes it’s a movement that was named that
Ben: It’s a strong brand. No seriously
Monica: It existed, at least in the early 60s, its death can be debated
….about breathless...anyways
Ben: The new print is nice. What was striking was how overexposed some of the frames are a few of the earlier scenes hurt my eyes. The sheets in the bedroom were intense and one lamp was letting out rays of god and the darkness was extra dark
Monica: It really didn't bother me actually. But yes, I thought the print was pristine
Ben: Could be some metaphor for how striking and bold and unpretty the film is
unpretty? Many of the shots are out of focus and rough that was its glory
its DIY there are no sharp lines
Monica: What is DIY?
Ben: Do it yourself. Don't you know
Monica: Anyways, yes, I think the greatness of Breathless comes from is visuals
the fact that everything is raw, amateur
Ben: But first and foremost, I think what is so attractive about breathless to many can be boiled down to three things. ok...
1. postcard paris
I was struck by how many obnoxious shots there are just showing off the city. There are two shots of Notre Dame one near the beginning another overhead one near the end an overhead shot of the Louvre, the Eiffel tower, the champs
Monica: Ya, when I watched it again that bothered me a little, because it felt the same as the opening of 400 blows
Ben: Right, those images do nothing new. They sell the product of hip Paris, of history. They say "this is important - this is poetry." Yes, Paris is glorified compared to the industrial landscape of 2 or 3 things, Godard's real masterpiece
those are actually incredible beautiful too
Monica: He has several...
Ben: He has several but that is the ONE for me at least…but Breathless has a classical landscape that is the one we'd have to send to the aliens
Monica: the scene where he complains about the modern building going up
Ben: Yeah, I felt that scene is out of place
Monica: It’s just like how so much of the film is a reference to the past, past cinema, past France
Ben: Michel is a conservative
Monica: Exactly, so he wouldn't like a changing city
Ben: He is obsessed with sex, violence, cars, used to be in the military (and supposedly worked at cinecitta and for air france)
Monica: I found it very interesting
Ben: But really he is like a stereotypical bro
or in short…an American
Monica: HAHA
Ben: He doesn't identify with the young either "I prefer the old!" he says. And he actually likes cops.
Monica: Exactly what my point was about the building
Ben: Right, but the classical Paris does work. But who are we kidding? The romance of the city is infectious. As much as we fight it
Monica: Who said I fight it?
Ben: watching the scene on saint Michel just made me want to return to Paris but it just cheapens the vibe a bit
Monica: I think the romance of the city parallels nicely with the romance of the film…though I might even say that the city hold up better
Ben: The great thing about Godard is that I think he got relationships. Le Mepris may be the best film about relationships ever. Of course we can talk about the misogyny. Richard Brody would say this film is just another example of Godard's erectile dysfunction and fear of woman or something, but we will forgive him. He had to sell books
Monica: I think sometimes he gets relationships
Ben: Well he gets the masculine side
Monica: yes exactly
Ben: And particularly feelings like jealousy. The feminine side is a mystery, and can be very alienating for a female viewer. When Seberg tells Michel..."I’m trying to find out why I like you." I feel like there is something poignant to that people search for reasons to like people and once they find those reasons they commit mentally. There is a turning point in the head.
Monica: Not for me. I feel like as a female, I feel and then I know
Ben: Right, but we look for reasons to legitimize the feelings. She was looking for that. What's great is that after she rats him out, he still is arguing with her trying to rationalize the situation. He says "there is no happy love" as if trying to rationalize what she did as a way of convincing himself that she still loves him.
Monica: That’s a very masculine thing to do
Ben: Godard understood the fascism that is relationships
Monica: And I suppose then its a feminine thing to rat him out?
Ben: In Godard's eyes at least
Monica: yes
Ben: Woman don't commit I suppose, they teeter totter
Monica: In Godard's eyes
Ben. Right… About the woman ratting out: remember the scene at Air France, where Tolmatchoff's secretary rats him out to the cops? Much is said about the randomness in breathless but there are striking patterns in the narrative
such as the repeated females ratting out Michel
Monica: right
Ben: But remember who else rats out Michel? Godard himself In that wonderful iris
Monica: The girl at the diner
Ben: Perhaps Gordard is identifying himself with the woman, as a bearing of truth. Remember when Mielville is asked whether Rilke was right about the alienating effects of modernity
and he says "Rilke was a great poet so he much have been right." That is a striking answer because for me...poetry and truth are not the same but this statement if interpreted as coming from Godard
Monica: its also striking when he says that a cute girl in a striped dress and sunglasses can get ahead
Ben: Well, yes but let me finish my thought, I was saying that for Godard - aesthetics convey truth
however, I view poetry and trust as the same...in other words he is a cognitivist theorist of aesthetics in the same camp as Plato. Art's job is to convey truth and thus…it is him who must rat out Michel, and the woman as well.
Monica: Patricia is associated with art through out the film, putting up the Renoir poster
Ben: High brow cliche art, right: Romeo and Juliet, Faulkner, Dylan Thomas, Mozart, Paul Klee and Picasso are also in that room…more of "postcard Paris"
Monica: its interesting that in so many of Godard's other films that male becomes associated with those things
Ben: Yeah well Michel is the low brow
Monica: Or is that a product of his relationship with Karina perhaps?
Ben: Probably, that’s one of the great things about Breathless though: the merger of high and low brow, monogram pictures AND Paul Klee. That type of merge is common now, maybe it was then too. I don't know.
Monica: it is less elitist than most of his films
Ben: Yeah its pretty inviting, again to bring in 2 or 3 things...that move is alienating, but inviting in a different way. it is the platonic ideal of an auteur film because he is whispering to us through the whole film. We are literally in his head. its an attempt at pure cinematic phenomenology
Monica: And what are we in breathless?
Ben: With Michel I think. it is very much a character driven movie, for Godard at least. Or still with Paris...
Monica: its interesting because I consider myself aligned to Patricia when I watch the film
Ben: Why?
Monica: Perhaps it is my reading of Michel. He’s ridiculous, from scene one
Ben: Neither of them are likable at all. They are both weak in their own ways but he is far more charming
Monica: I think she is far more likable
Ben: He is like dean in on the road
Monica: She’s the stylized figure
Ben: Yeah, but she sleeps around for her job. She is a careerist and is more by the book. He is more authentic. He is the "all or nothing" guy.
Monica: I feel like her its pure aesthetics that gain my loyalty. She is the icon, the hair the clothes, the sunglasses etc.
Ben: right. "New York herald tribune"
Monica: Michel in his dress takes on the appearance of a poser, oddly fitting suit etc
Ben: with tweed and silk socks!
Monica: He’s longing to be Bogart, but failing
Ben: Did he fail? He became immortal and then died!
Monica: haha. did he though?
Ben: I dunno. Pierrot went out much more romantically, in blue with the dynamite. Same thing though died for the romance
Monica: Suddenly feels like Godard's wearing his heart on his sleeve there
Ben: He always wore his heart on his sleeve, that's one of his charms
Due to the length, I have divided the discussion in several parts.
Part one: aesthetics and gender
Monica: So why don't you lead the discussion: how do you feel about Breathless?
Ben: Out of breathe
Monica: Is it the defining film of the new wave? Or just a novelty?
Ben: There is no wave kill your idols
Monica: "'New wave' is neither a movement, nor a school, nor a group, it's a quantity, it's a collective heading invented by the press to group fifty new names which have emerged in two years (59-60)."
Ben: It’s a product for you to spend money on and for horrible docs to be made about and for classes to be taught about and for books to be written about good advertising though
Monica: For our purposes it’s a movement that was named that
Ben: It’s a strong brand. No seriously
Monica: It existed, at least in the early 60s, its death can be debated
….about breathless...anyways
Ben: The new print is nice. What was striking was how overexposed some of the frames are a few of the earlier scenes hurt my eyes. The sheets in the bedroom were intense and one lamp was letting out rays of god and the darkness was extra dark
Monica: It really didn't bother me actually. But yes, I thought the print was pristine
Ben: Could be some metaphor for how striking and bold and unpretty the film is
unpretty? Many of the shots are out of focus and rough that was its glory
its DIY there are no sharp lines
Monica: What is DIY?
Ben: Do it yourself. Don't you know
Monica: Anyways, yes, I think the greatness of Breathless comes from is visuals
the fact that everything is raw, amateur
Ben: But first and foremost, I think what is so attractive about breathless to many can be boiled down to three things. ok...
1. postcard paris
I was struck by how many obnoxious shots there are just showing off the city. There are two shots of Notre Dame one near the beginning another overhead one near the end an overhead shot of the Louvre, the Eiffel tower, the champs
Monica: Ya, when I watched it again that bothered me a little, because it felt the same as the opening of 400 blows
Ben: Right, those images do nothing new. They sell the product of hip Paris, of history. They say "this is important - this is poetry." Yes, Paris is glorified compared to the industrial landscape of 2 or 3 things, Godard's real masterpiece
those are actually incredible beautiful too
Monica: He has several...
Ben: He has several but that is the ONE for me at least…but Breathless has a classical landscape that is the one we'd have to send to the aliens
Monica: the scene where he complains about the modern building going up
Ben: Yeah, I felt that scene is out of place
Monica: It’s just like how so much of the film is a reference to the past, past cinema, past France
Ben: Michel is a conservative
Monica: Exactly, so he wouldn't like a changing city
Ben: He is obsessed with sex, violence, cars, used to be in the military (and supposedly worked at cinecitta and for air france)
Monica: I found it very interesting
Ben: But really he is like a stereotypical bro
or in short…an American
Monica: HAHA
Ben: He doesn't identify with the young either "I prefer the old!" he says. And he actually likes cops.
Monica: Exactly what my point was about the building
Ben: Right, but the classical Paris does work. But who are we kidding? The romance of the city is infectious. As much as we fight it
Monica: Who said I fight it?
Ben: watching the scene on saint Michel just made me want to return to Paris but it just cheapens the vibe a bit
Monica: I think the romance of the city parallels nicely with the romance of the film…though I might even say that the city hold up better
Ben: The great thing about Godard is that I think he got relationships. Le Mepris may be the best film about relationships ever. Of course we can talk about the misogyny. Richard Brody would say this film is just another example of Godard's erectile dysfunction and fear of woman or something, but we will forgive him. He had to sell books
Monica: I think sometimes he gets relationships
Ben: Well he gets the masculine side
Monica: yes exactly
Ben: And particularly feelings like jealousy. The feminine side is a mystery, and can be very alienating for a female viewer. When Seberg tells Michel..."I’m trying to find out why I like you." I feel like there is something poignant to that people search for reasons to like people and once they find those reasons they commit mentally. There is a turning point in the head.
Monica: Not for me. I feel like as a female, I feel and then I know
Ben: Right, but we look for reasons to legitimize the feelings. She was looking for that. What's great is that after she rats him out, he still is arguing with her trying to rationalize the situation. He says "there is no happy love" as if trying to rationalize what she did as a way of convincing himself that she still loves him.
Monica: That’s a very masculine thing to do
Ben: Godard understood the fascism that is relationships
Monica: And I suppose then its a feminine thing to rat him out?
Ben: In Godard's eyes at least
Monica: yes
Ben: Woman don't commit I suppose, they teeter totter
Monica: In Godard's eyes
Ben. Right… About the woman ratting out: remember the scene at Air France, where Tolmatchoff's secretary rats him out to the cops? Much is said about the randomness in breathless but there are striking patterns in the narrative
such as the repeated females ratting out Michel
Monica: right
Ben: But remember who else rats out Michel? Godard himself In that wonderful iris
Monica: The girl at the diner
Ben: Perhaps Gordard is identifying himself with the woman, as a bearing of truth. Remember when Mielville is asked whether Rilke was right about the alienating effects of modernity
and he says "Rilke was a great poet so he much have been right." That is a striking answer because for me...poetry and truth are not the same but this statement if interpreted as coming from Godard
Monica: its also striking when he says that a cute girl in a striped dress and sunglasses can get ahead
Ben: Well, yes but let me finish my thought, I was saying that for Godard - aesthetics convey truth
however, I view poetry and trust as the same...in other words he is a cognitivist theorist of aesthetics in the same camp as Plato. Art's job is to convey truth and thus…it is him who must rat out Michel, and the woman as well.
Monica: Patricia is associated with art through out the film, putting up the Renoir poster
Ben: High brow cliche art, right: Romeo and Juliet, Faulkner, Dylan Thomas, Mozart, Paul Klee and Picasso are also in that room…more of "postcard Paris"
Monica: its interesting that in so many of Godard's other films that male becomes associated with those things
Ben: Yeah well Michel is the low brow
Monica: Or is that a product of his relationship with Karina perhaps?
Ben: Probably, that’s one of the great things about Breathless though: the merger of high and low brow, monogram pictures AND Paul Klee. That type of merge is common now, maybe it was then too. I don't know.
Monica: it is less elitist than most of his films
Ben: Yeah its pretty inviting, again to bring in 2 or 3 things...that move is alienating, but inviting in a different way. it is the platonic ideal of an auteur film because he is whispering to us through the whole film. We are literally in his head. its an attempt at pure cinematic phenomenology
Monica: And what are we in breathless?
Ben: With Michel I think. it is very much a character driven movie, for Godard at least. Or still with Paris...
Monica: its interesting because I consider myself aligned to Patricia when I watch the film
Ben: Why?
Monica: Perhaps it is my reading of Michel. He’s ridiculous, from scene one
Ben: Neither of them are likable at all. They are both weak in their own ways but he is far more charming
Monica: I think she is far more likable
Ben: He is like dean in on the road
Monica: She’s the stylized figure
Ben: Yeah, but she sleeps around for her job. She is a careerist and is more by the book. He is more authentic. He is the "all or nothing" guy.
Monica: I feel like her its pure aesthetics that gain my loyalty. She is the icon, the hair the clothes, the sunglasses etc.
Ben: right. "New York herald tribune"
Monica: Michel in his dress takes on the appearance of a poser, oddly fitting suit etc
Ben: with tweed and silk socks!
Monica: He’s longing to be Bogart, but failing
Ben: Did he fail? He became immortal and then died!
Monica: haha. did he though?
Ben: I dunno. Pierrot went out much more romantically, in blue with the dynamite. Same thing though died for the romance
Monica: Suddenly feels like Godard's wearing his heart on his sleeve there
Ben: He always wore his heart on his sleeve, that's one of his charms
Why I Hate Actors
Last week, I posted an explanation for my inability to make films. I have, however, dabbled in that realm in the past. What follows is my philosophy on film making, or my feelings when working behind the camera. Keep in mind that this is merely an examination of my own psyche when it comes to this realm and not a realistic ideology for most movies, in fact if all film acquired my ideas, the medium pretty much could not exist.
When I have stepped behind a camera in the past, I have found myself obsessed with one thing: sincerity. I want to capture emotion and reality. Yet, I would hardly consider myself a budding documentarian. I, as director, manipulate the scene but set up the situation in order to draw out the natural behavior of a person.
This sounds like more of a study in behavioral psychology than a means of making entertainment. Yet the artificiality of a scene or of acting or of faking emotions, I find incredibly intolerable, to the point that I cannot stand the site of it. Great cinema allows me to forget this problem I have, and I know that it is all entirely constructed, yet when I try to go to a play I feel very bothered. Film creates an alternative constructed reality, and the combination of these elements like cuts and camera movement, reminds me that the actors are faking emotions. But that is all part of the experience of fiction film. On the stage, all of see is the facade, and I cannot escape it.
I speak of the stage because when I am with a camera, looking out in front of characters that I am attempting to film, that area then becomes a stage. And I am taken aback. I can’t have actors reading lines; I can’t stand the site of the lie. What is much more interesting to me is the prospect of breaking down that realm. Using the camera to capture the realities of human emotion, to see truth. Now that is a very Vertovian statement.
Perhaps, this is my own attempts at therapy. An attempt to understand those around me by capturing them on film or DVI, because they I can study their emotions and feelings, because in the real world they are too confusing. There is something utterly fascinating about watching a person just “be” on camera. What if, per say, I put a camera in front of a person and gave them no direction? How uncomfortable would they get, or what they then come up with something to do in order to calm themselves?
I attempted this discussion of constructed versus unconstructed reality in one of the films I have made, called This Is Samantha Graham. And maybe discussing this example can best help get my methods to come across, or at least how I have applied it. I asked my friend Sam a series of questions about her life. Some of which she knew of beforehand, but most of which came from the top of my head and were entirely unexpected. This, of course, is not an original idea, Godard used this method in Masculin Feminin to ask teenagers about Marx and Consumerism, and draw out confused responses from them. What I got from Sam, I found utterly fascinating. At the start of the interview she seems so uncomfortable with the camera, but she responded to everything I asked completely honestly. She talks about her beliefs in God, love, and different aspects of her personal life. To me, she’s a bubbly somewhat crazy girl, yet see comes across and sincere and emotional. At least as I watched her footage back.
I filmed her in other situations. I asked her to do things in her room, get dressed, makes the bed. What I find interesting about her behavior when I asked her to do these things is not that the situation is constructed, it is that she does these thing knowing that it is constructed. To me it becomes apparent, and the unnaturalness of a situation like that becomes natural. There is footage when she is getting dressed where she awkwardly puts on her outfit attempting modesty in front of the camera. She would never do this in real life, but suddenly anyone watching the footage, knows she knows she is being watched.
A constructed scene with a natural reaction, this is my interest in filmmaking. How far I am able to go with this, I am not sure. But should I decide to yield a camera, this is my obsession.
-M
When I have stepped behind a camera in the past, I have found myself obsessed with one thing: sincerity. I want to capture emotion and reality. Yet, I would hardly consider myself a budding documentarian. I, as director, manipulate the scene but set up the situation in order to draw out the natural behavior of a person.
This sounds like more of a study in behavioral psychology than a means of making entertainment. Yet the artificiality of a scene or of acting or of faking emotions, I find incredibly intolerable, to the point that I cannot stand the site of it. Great cinema allows me to forget this problem I have, and I know that it is all entirely constructed, yet when I try to go to a play I feel very bothered. Film creates an alternative constructed reality, and the combination of these elements like cuts and camera movement, reminds me that the actors are faking emotions. But that is all part of the experience of fiction film. On the stage, all of see is the facade, and I cannot escape it.
I speak of the stage because when I am with a camera, looking out in front of characters that I am attempting to film, that area then becomes a stage. And I am taken aback. I can’t have actors reading lines; I can’t stand the site of the lie. What is much more interesting to me is the prospect of breaking down that realm. Using the camera to capture the realities of human emotion, to see truth. Now that is a very Vertovian statement.
Perhaps, this is my own attempts at therapy. An attempt to understand those around me by capturing them on film or DVI, because they I can study their emotions and feelings, because in the real world they are too confusing. There is something utterly fascinating about watching a person just “be” on camera. What if, per say, I put a camera in front of a person and gave them no direction? How uncomfortable would they get, or what they then come up with something to do in order to calm themselves?
I attempted this discussion of constructed versus unconstructed reality in one of the films I have made, called This Is Samantha Graham. And maybe discussing this example can best help get my methods to come across, or at least how I have applied it. I asked my friend Sam a series of questions about her life. Some of which she knew of beforehand, but most of which came from the top of my head and were entirely unexpected. This, of course, is not an original idea, Godard used this method in Masculin Feminin to ask teenagers about Marx and Consumerism, and draw out confused responses from them. What I got from Sam, I found utterly fascinating. At the start of the interview she seems so uncomfortable with the camera, but she responded to everything I asked completely honestly. She talks about her beliefs in God, love, and different aspects of her personal life. To me, she’s a bubbly somewhat crazy girl, yet see comes across and sincere and emotional. At least as I watched her footage back.
I filmed her in other situations. I asked her to do things in her room, get dressed, makes the bed. What I find interesting about her behavior when I asked her to do these things is not that the situation is constructed, it is that she does these thing knowing that it is constructed. To me it becomes apparent, and the unnaturalness of a situation like that becomes natural. There is footage when she is getting dressed where she awkwardly puts on her outfit attempting modesty in front of the camera. She would never do this in real life, but suddenly anyone watching the footage, knows she knows she is being watched.
A constructed scene with a natural reaction, this is my interest in filmmaking. How far I am able to go with this, I am not sure. But should I decide to yield a camera, this is my obsession.
-M
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A Brief Love Letter
Dear Marcel Carne,
You’re films are like poetry. I never thought I would move on from my affair with Max Ophuls, but you have shown me a new world of possibilities: love, life, joy, sadness, mise-en-scene, camera movement, and long takes. That's all...
I love you.
-M
PS: Yes, I did spend my weekend watching your films.
You’re films are like poetry. I never thought I would move on from my affair with Max Ophuls, but you have shown me a new world of possibilities: love, life, joy, sadness, mise-en-scene, camera movement, and long takes. That's all...
I love you.
-M
PS: Yes, I did spend my weekend watching your films.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Not a Filmmaker...Yet
The other day I was walking with my friend John, complaining about all the work and education and money I have to put in to become a professor. He then asked me an obvious question: “Why teach? Why not make?” This is hardly the first time I have heard this…and normally I have a go-to response that can get a little cranky: “NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO MAKE FILMS! I AM A HISTORIAN, A SCHOLAR! LEAVE ME ALONE!” But for some reason on this day, I answered something unusual, and utterly sincere. I replied: “I couldn’t, if I wanted to. I don’t know enough yet.”
…and John scoffed at me, Miss “my world is cinema” Monica.
Let me make one thing clear: in that statement, I didn’t mean that I don’t know much about the technical aspects of films, which is true though. I know very little, enough to get by, and make myself simple films. I know I am about to piss off any of my film school friends when I say this: but those technical aspects are irrelevant as far as I am concerned…for this discussion at least. Jean-Luc Godard hardly understood the filmmaking lingo when he directed Breathless, and he ended up revolutionizing cinema.
Honestly, I am kind of a bitch to most production students: people who tell me they would rather make films than watch them, that they are artists. There is far too much unsaturated crap out there to me to give a flying fuck about most of cliché stories that come out, or the new people that schools are generating. I am looking for inspiration, please show me some.
I say my harsh words only because I feel that the emotions and reservations I have about my own potential in filmmaking should be felt by any person attempting to yield a camera.
Tangent over: back to me…
In spite of my cinephilia, my efforts to watch two films a day during the summer, all my theoretical essays, and my attempts at making actual shorts, I have no idea how to take that knowledge and apply it. What I still need to learn is why do certain films move me, and how? And that is a question that I am not certain I will ever be able to answer.
Is great filmmaking great storytelling? Beautiful imagery? Or something greater? I would say something greater: some of the best films I’ve ever seen have no narrative or simple mise-en-scenes.
If I am to become a filmmaker: what am I to make? What am I to say? A great filmmaker should have something to say in their films, something they want to show the world…but if I were to make films I want to show people a feeling. Why do I cry during the Cheek to Cheek number in Top Hat? Or feel utter joy as Antoine Doinel runs to the water at the end of The 400 Blows? And more importantly: how does someone create that moment themselves?
I am at a loss. And perhaps when I figure that out I will be able to pick up a camera and no longer call myself a scholar or essay writer, but a filmmaker. Perhaps my ideas and expectations are extreme. But I feel that anyone who is not striving to achieve this goal has no business pursuing a life making films.
…and John scoffed at me, Miss “my world is cinema” Monica.
Let me make one thing clear: in that statement, I didn’t mean that I don’t know much about the technical aspects of films, which is true though. I know very little, enough to get by, and make myself simple films. I know I am about to piss off any of my film school friends when I say this: but those technical aspects are irrelevant as far as I am concerned…for this discussion at least. Jean-Luc Godard hardly understood the filmmaking lingo when he directed Breathless, and he ended up revolutionizing cinema.
Honestly, I am kind of a bitch to most production students: people who tell me they would rather make films than watch them, that they are artists. There is far too much unsaturated crap out there to me to give a flying fuck about most of cliché stories that come out, or the new people that schools are generating. I am looking for inspiration, please show me some.
I say my harsh words only because I feel that the emotions and reservations I have about my own potential in filmmaking should be felt by any person attempting to yield a camera.
Tangent over: back to me…
In spite of my cinephilia, my efforts to watch two films a day during the summer, all my theoretical essays, and my attempts at making actual shorts, I have no idea how to take that knowledge and apply it. What I still need to learn is why do certain films move me, and how? And that is a question that I am not certain I will ever be able to answer.
Is great filmmaking great storytelling? Beautiful imagery? Or something greater? I would say something greater: some of the best films I’ve ever seen have no narrative or simple mise-en-scenes.
If I am to become a filmmaker: what am I to make? What am I to say? A great filmmaker should have something to say in their films, something they want to show the world…but if I were to make films I want to show people a feeling. Why do I cry during the Cheek to Cheek number in Top Hat? Or feel utter joy as Antoine Doinel runs to the water at the end of The 400 Blows? And more importantly: how does someone create that moment themselves?
I am at a loss. And perhaps when I figure that out I will be able to pick up a camera and no longer call myself a scholar or essay writer, but a filmmaker. Perhaps my ideas and expectations are extreme. But I feel that anyone who is not striving to achieve this goal has no business pursuing a life making films.
On Metropolis
I received this text from a friend back home about a week ago: “The Complete Metropolis is playing at a theater by my apartment. Should I see it?” My response: “Yes! It’s a big deal which cannot fully be explained via text message.”
I have always considered Metropolis Fritz Lang’s flawed masterpiece. It boasts a big game about ideology, the workers versus the city folk, yet it seems confused about what it is saying: its blatantly anti-communist and anti-fascist, and seems none too keen on capitalism either. What the heck does “the mediator between head and hands must be the heart” even mean? So in that respect, Metropolis for me is eye candy, mind-blowingly beautiful eye candy.
The story of how the footage was lost is infamous. Metropolis was Ufa Studio’s most expensive film to date and Lang went wildly over budget. At the film premiere when the full version was shown it was received disastrously. Thus it was shortened and cut to pieces, and the original version was thought to have been lost…until a few years ago when a print was found in the depths of an archive in Argentina. This is the stuff of legends.
I just finished taking a class all about Lang, so let’s just say me and Fritz know each other pretty well. In interviews Lang often refers to the shortened version as his version of the film. What a remarkable revelation: was Lang even happy with this elongated version, now toted as one of the biggest archival finds in history? This revelation suddenly brings up ideas about authorship and who this film belongs too.
Amongst the archival world, it is popular to try to update infamously cutup or altered films into their intended format. A great example is the reedited version of Touch of Evil that features an altered opening sequence with different sound and different titles. The basis for the scene changes come from a memo sent by Orson Welles over how the scene “should” look as he ranted to the studios, begging them not to touch his film. A professor of mine, Bill Simon, a renowned Welles scholar, once pointed out how ridiculous he felt the intentions of this definitive version were. I remember him proclaiming something like, “Welles never knew what he wanted, he may have wanted this one day but it was constantly changing his mind, if he’d been working on the film still who knows what he would have come up with, but I’m sure it would have been different from what’s in the memo.”
This example of Welles and Touch of Evil merely goes to show that these “definitive” “complete” versions of famously lost films may mean nothing: they may not be what the director wanted; we may be watching what the director intended to scrap or change or whatever. And that discredits the importance of their overall authorship authority.
Some directors are constantly updating their works, tweaking things and trying to make them “better.” (See the 80 versions of Blade Runner, and the CGI updated version of Star Wars). In these circumstances, I will say yes this is different from a group of historians, film lovers, and archivists altering a film in the name of a dead man: here the director is entitled to add updates; we can all agree that it is their films. Yet many would call the updates to Star Wars atrocities.
In both of these circumstances: this becomes a moral question. Do we make changes, make updates, or let history stand? The answer with all this helps make the directorial input irrelevant. Simply: which is better? The new version of Touch of Evil’s opening sequence is decidedly better…and so is the “complete” version of Metropolis. The addition of a few simple frames to sequences somehow made things pop more, and the greater character development, I greatly appreciated. So to answer my friend’s text, whether Lang liked it or not: go see The Complete Metropolis!
At the cinema, I am no longer thought; I am emotion.
Why do Frank Capra films make me feel so good inside? This is a question I have pondered since I was a child, though I may not have articulated the actual words at the time.
I sat today at Film Forum, paranoid that I was going to fall asleep during a double feature of Platinum Blonde and Mr. Deeds Goes To Town. Yet after nearly 4 hours of film preceded by a day of work and class, my eyes were glued to the screen, captivated with the same whimsy towards Capra’s work that I had when I was a child.
My best cinematic experiences are one where at first I feel compelled to think about the material I am watching, take notes, and ponder its ideologies, but then instead am stopped in my tracks entirely immersed in whatever is going on on screen. A few weeks ago I was greatly pondering this Godard quote “at the cinema, we do not think we are thought.” Truly great cinema, things I absolutely love and adore, for me, stop me from thinking. I am engulfed by a new world, one where I forget my problems and truly only feel the emotions of the characters. I cease to think, film is thought.
Returning to my experience with Capra, I think I saw Mr. Deeds for the first time when I was ten or so with my father around Christmas time when TCM did a Frank Capra day. I remember that day only because I watched 5 films by him back to back and then declared him to be my favorite director. I was so happy, and what a memory! My first favorite director, my first dabble into the realm of auteur ideology! I loved him because all his films carried a similar ideology, one that made me feel good inside. I liked that no matter what: good triumphed over evil and the nice guy always won. I was a little girl learning morality from 1930s social films. If only the world could be as black and white as in a Capra film: capitalism and money –bad, human relationships and hard work—good.
Now, as a 22 years old, I wonder why the films still have such a hold. I literally had not seen Mr. Deeds since that day as a prepubescent, so I think I went into the viewing with nearly a clean slate. What I am left with in my emotional reaction. Of course, I was captivated and involved in story, but things transcended for me into a moment of viewing that was pure emotion, and without anymore thought about the way the film progressed or was told or shot or all those cinema studies things.
There is always a moment in a Capra film where the evils of the world are trying to convict and persecute the film’s hero. In Mr. Deeds a group of lawyers try to get the hero declared insane because he is trying to give away his money to the impoverished. The moments set in a courtroom where the businessmen condemn him, for some reason I found excruciating to watch, not in a “this is bad cinema” way but in an “I felt so emotional and that the situation was so unjust” way. It’s silly to feel that enraged over a film, especially one discussing topic mostly relevant to the 1930s. I think that this scene exemplifies the emotional, absorptive power I have been trying to identity. When Mr. Deeds was found sane and the crowd rejoices and he gets the girl, I was so overcome with joy I wiped away tears (yes really). The good guy one, and everyone was happy. Perhaps, part of my reaction was the result of nostalgia but so much of it was the pure power of the filmic medium: I felt what the characters felt, what the frame presented, what the director intended…and I sat there in a state of pure feeling as if to declare: at the cinema, I am no longer thought; I am emotion.
I sat today at Film Forum, paranoid that I was going to fall asleep during a double feature of Platinum Blonde and Mr. Deeds Goes To Town. Yet after nearly 4 hours of film preceded by a day of work and class, my eyes were glued to the screen, captivated with the same whimsy towards Capra’s work that I had when I was a child.
My best cinematic experiences are one where at first I feel compelled to think about the material I am watching, take notes, and ponder its ideologies, but then instead am stopped in my tracks entirely immersed in whatever is going on on screen. A few weeks ago I was greatly pondering this Godard quote “at the cinema, we do not think we are thought.” Truly great cinema, things I absolutely love and adore, for me, stop me from thinking. I am engulfed by a new world, one where I forget my problems and truly only feel the emotions of the characters. I cease to think, film is thought.
Returning to my experience with Capra, I think I saw Mr. Deeds for the first time when I was ten or so with my father around Christmas time when TCM did a Frank Capra day. I remember that day only because I watched 5 films by him back to back and then declared him to be my favorite director. I was so happy, and what a memory! My first favorite director, my first dabble into the realm of auteur ideology! I loved him because all his films carried a similar ideology, one that made me feel good inside. I liked that no matter what: good triumphed over evil and the nice guy always won. I was a little girl learning morality from 1930s social films. If only the world could be as black and white as in a Capra film: capitalism and money –bad, human relationships and hard work—good.
Now, as a 22 years old, I wonder why the films still have such a hold. I literally had not seen Mr. Deeds since that day as a prepubescent, so I think I went into the viewing with nearly a clean slate. What I am left with in my emotional reaction. Of course, I was captivated and involved in story, but things transcended for me into a moment of viewing that was pure emotion, and without anymore thought about the way the film progressed or was told or shot or all those cinema studies things.
There is always a moment in a Capra film where the evils of the world are trying to convict and persecute the film’s hero. In Mr. Deeds a group of lawyers try to get the hero declared insane because he is trying to give away his money to the impoverished. The moments set in a courtroom where the businessmen condemn him, for some reason I found excruciating to watch, not in a “this is bad cinema” way but in an “I felt so emotional and that the situation was so unjust” way. It’s silly to feel that enraged over a film, especially one discussing topic mostly relevant to the 1930s. I think that this scene exemplifies the emotional, absorptive power I have been trying to identity. When Mr. Deeds was found sane and the crowd rejoices and he gets the girl, I was so overcome with joy I wiped away tears (yes really). The good guy one, and everyone was happy. Perhaps, part of my reaction was the result of nostalgia but so much of it was the pure power of the filmic medium: I felt what the characters felt, what the frame presented, what the director intended…and I sat there in a state of pure feeling as if to declare: at the cinema, I am no longer thought; I am emotion.
Statement of Purpose
Cinema is my world and my life. This blog is aimed as a means for discussing and pursuing those interests. As I begin to write I begin with a vow: no personal discussion just film, except when, as is often the case, film and real life are interchangeable. Andre Bazin once wrote, and Jean-Luc Godard quoted him in the opening of Le Mepris, that: “Cinema substitutes for our gaze, a world more in harmony with our desires.” This blog focuses on my life in that world, and all the intrigue it brings me. And with that I start…
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