Dancing Bread Rolls

As I’m still recovering from my Friday night of amazing Milton-ness, I can’t guarantee coherence. But then, when do I ever?

I’ve noticed that–while meaning is often extracted from screenshots–nobody ever bothers to analyze movie posters. This could be because movie posters aren’t all that important, but I choose to believe it’s because nobody really takes them serious. Which is a shame, because design of movie posters is such an intentional thing. Just think–a poster, like a preview, must summarize the film in a way that will attract potential viewers while staying true to its essence. That’s not an easy thing to do in a 2 x 4 foot image. Thus, they deserve attention. On to the Morris posters!

This poster of Morris’ first film has a very unique composition. Almost half of it is black. This emphasizes the slightly ambiguous phrase at the top, and the lower half is simply an image of two of the characters in the film. It imparts no information whatsoever about the movie and is very simplistic. We’re essentially being told to just go see it if we want any real information about the film. Morris obviously isn’t concerned about attracting the general public. This poster contains nothing to ‘hook’ viewers, except perhaps its complete ambiguity.

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Aha! The whole canvas is used this time. Unlike the poster for Gates of Heaven, the image matches the title of the film, giving viewers a slightly bigger clue. Also, this poster has a very obvious hook: a recommendation from a prominent critic (Ebert) in a place where it will attract the most attention. Morris is still saying, through this poster, “Just go see it if you want to know”, but he’s ALSO saying “It will be worth it.” This is a change from the previous poster, which pretty much says “I don’t much care if you see this film or not. Either way.” (Not that Morris doesn’t care if people don’t see his film, but he is actively trying to attract audiences with this second poster.)

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Wow! What a difference. First thing you see? “ONE OF THE YEAR’S TEN BEST FILMS.” And then? “Based on the best-selling book.” Implication: The book is great and this movie will be too! The following questions pull the viewer further in, until arriving at the final line of text: “An Errol Morris Film”. Ah. At this point Morris is counting on his own growing popularity to promote his film, and it works. The design of this poster is much more dynamic than the first two, which also grabs the viewer’s attention. Bright colors and memorable images. Ok, now Morris is telling us to drop everything and run and see his spectacular film. That’s a pretty big change.

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The first thing apparent in this poster is the way the four men seem to be almost caricatures of themselves. This is obviously intentional. The colors are bright, but chosen primarily to accent the men. At this point, Morris is banking on the fact that audiences are familiar with his work, so he’s using an image that suggests that this film will be in a similar vein to his former ones. This time, the choices in text are reassuring, rather than insistent. Yes, it’s that guy Errol Morris again. Yes, Ebert liked it again. It’s a pretty safe bet.

“Even the way you lie tells the truth about who you are.”

I’ve given this statement a lot of thought, and I think I can only partially agree with it. It depends entirely upon the who the person doing the lying is and who the observer is. Not everyone is equally transparent, just as not everyone is equally discerning. For the people in the movie, this statement works fine, but it doesn’t hold up universally. If you’re trying to convince yourself that a lie is true, then of course it’s fairly easy for an outside observer to see the real situation, but what if you believe that lie completely?  Then it starts to depend on the lie itself. Is it something outrageous and easily detectable, or is it something so subtle that it might as well be true? We constantly lie to others and ourselves, even if we don’t realize we’re doing it. Lies consist of not only spoken assertions, but behavior patterns, elaborate mental states, and ways that we interact with each other. What if you’re in a work situation and you don’t particularly care for your boss? You still behave as if you’re ok with this person, or even pretend to like them. This is a lie. Or how about convincing yourself that you no longer care for someone?

I guess my point is that there are many kinds of lies and not all of them necessarily reveal truth. One of the things that we’re best–and worst–at is lying.

I wonder what the distinction is between a “documentary” and a “non-fiction feature film”. I think Leighton was on to something in her post (that is Leighton’s blog, isn’t it?), but rather than trying to classify a film by what occurs in it and its style, perhaps we should examine purpose. How does Gates of Heaven differ from, for example, a documentary about whales? I could make the argument that the primary purpose of the documentary about whales is to educate its audience, but isn’t that also what Gates of Heaven is doing, in a way? But what about other traditional films? Some of them also educate viewers in the same way that Gates of Heaven does, but they’re not non-fictional.

Then I suppose you could get into the question of whether any ‘non-fiction’ film is truly non-fictional. Truth, in this case, is only what is presented to the audience and what is there is only what the directer wanted included. This doesn’t change between genres.

But back to the “non-fiction feature film” in question. I think I’m going to say that what makes it different from a documentary is both intent and subject matter. You could never make a traditional documentary about all of the themes that Gates of Heaven explores. (It would be a disorganized, incomprehensible mess.) But you can make a non-fictional film and accomplish this. If it doesn’t claim to be a documentary, audiences don’t compare it with their preconceived ideas of what a film of this type should be about, and therefore are more open to secondary messages within the film.

After all this extensive discussion on the “is it good” question, I feel as if one question needs to be asked: Is it really that important? Don’t get me wrong–this distinction is a very important one for me, but it seems that this is not a universal feeling. What if you don’t care whether a film you’re watching is ‘good’ or not, as long as you like it? And what if you’d rather not even make that distinction–you’re happier just accepting each film in terms of the enjoyment it brings you? While I disagree with this perspective personally, I think I’d feel very snobbish if I told someone not to think that way. As Stephanie points out, “a movie’s worth is in the eye of the beholder”. No arguments there. People will always disagree–not only about films but about books, scientific theories, philosophy…pretty much everything, actually. Everyone has their individual reasons for liking films, and it’s unfair to say that one person’s reason is less valid than another’s. If people went to movies with exactly the same purposes and expectations, it would be different. But we aren’t all looking for the exact same thing in movies. In fact, it even varies by individual film.

If you feel as if it’s important to make the distinction and be able to identify the difference, do that! (As I’ve said, that’s where I fall, personally.) But if it’s not all that important to you, don’t let other people’s opinions lessen your own film experience.

I was trying to keep nice and quiet down in the front row today while the massive debate over ‘masculine’ films raged all around. Both sides had valid points (yes, that does sound like a cop-out, doesn’t it), but I was having a pretty hard time with them. While it is true that a film may appeal mainly to a certain gender, I completely disagree with the idea that this is due to the unwillingness of women to expose themselves to violence, gore, sex, etc.

This question is a tricky one because any side of the debate is forced to generalize about a huge number of people. However, taking into account that there will be numerous individual exceptions, I think that it is unfair to suggest that women avoid films like 300 (I haven’t seen it yet, so I’m completely objective–probably) primarily because of elements which are traditionally unappealing to women, or at least society’s concept of what women should take interest in. I agree that there are certain films that just hold more attraction for men, but I think that the real answer to this is so simple that we missed it entirely.

Consider three films: 300, Fight Club, and Casino Royale. From personal observation, the people who are really passionate about these films are nearly all male. Perhaps there is something about these that appeals to men and their ideas of masculinity. But it’s certainly not the violence and gore. (The news hasn’t been labeled ‘masculine’, despite its profuse amounts of both of the aforementioned elements, has it?) I wish I could confidently and conclusively state exactly what makes these movies so appealing to men, but there are so many factors that could be a part of it that it’s difficult to prove causation. However, in all three movies the main male characters are strong, confident, and brutal. (Not to mention simply dripping with testosterone.) Perhaps this appeals to men who are growing increasingly dismayed with the portrayal of men in recent films. Think about the feminization of Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. Traditionally (and historically–mostly), pirates have been a pretty securely masculine symbol. Lots of ‘aargh’ing, hoisting sails with bulging biceps, and brutally slaughtering all who resist. Then in waltzes Johnny Depp (who I have absolutely nothing against, by the way) with massive amounts of eye makeup and a wholly unmanly swagger. Thus, pirates are ruined forever for male viewers as symbols of their masculinity. Super-heroes are out now too, because assumptions are made about men in spandex. (They’ve become either un-masculine or painfully unfashionable. Or both.) Pierce Brosnan’s suave James Bond was hugely popular with women, but not as much with male audiences. It has been conjectured that the return to raw masculinity and brutality is what attracts so many men and so few women to the new Bond movie. To [loosely] quote my best friend’s mother (who makes the most amazing tuna casserole, by the way), “The new Bond represents the male idea of what women want, rather than what actually appeals to women.” I’m going to take this even further and suggest that the new James Bond (and characters in the other movies mentioned above) may also represent what men WANT women to want. In a time when women are more empowered than they’ve ever been and new ideas of masculinity are emerging, maybe it’s nice to have something more traditional to cling to. Not because they necessarily believe that it’s what masculinity is truly about, but because they miss the old concept a little.

I realize that’s a pretty bold statement to make, especially since I know nothing about being a man. But it seems fairly likely that it could be a factor, at least. Am I onto something, or am I just guessing poorly? Guys, please let me know what you think of this idea. I’m very curious.

And finally, I want to dispute the statement that female critics didn’t like 300 because it objectifies women. Pause for a moment to consider the history of the film industry. Movies have been objectifying women for years. Not all movies, just certain types of movies in which feminism isn’t intended to play an important role. This hasn’t changed. A film should not be rejected on ideological or political grounds. It should be examined for things like quality of screenplay, acting, cinematography, cohesiveness, and impact, to name a few. And any respectable film critic will do just that, calling only upon opinions that are relevant to film analysis. In fact, it goes back to what Dr. Campbell was saying about being able to distinguish between “I like it” and “it’s good”. Because that’s incredibly important.

I’ve spent a while reflecting on the discussion of Valentino’s appeal–both in class and in Craig’s blog–and decided to make a list of the ten most iconic actors and actresses, in my opinion. I intentionally chose iconic rather than greatest, because I think there is a significant difference between the two. ‘Iconic’ is more about recognizability and enduring influence on popular culture rather than skill or importance to the evolution of the film industry in general. (For example, Veronica Lake was iconic, while Bette Davis was great.) So here they are, in no particular order. I think. (Or it could be in a mysteriously devious order that will take you months of intense thought to work out. Ha. You may never know.)

1. Marilyn Monroe: Curves, fluttering dresses, and clueless attitude. Somehow managed innocence and sensuality at the same time. Do I really need to explain this one any more?

2. Charlie Chaplin: The chocolate chip cookie of movie stars. Yes, I will explain that statement at a later time. I promise.

3. Audrey Hepburn: Even people who have never seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s can picture her exactly as she appeared in this film. I think that says a lot.

4. Humphrey Bogart: Starting his acting career fairly late in life, he became our image of the hard-boiled detective. Or hard-boiled cafe owner. Perhaps both.

5. Julie Andrews: I have confidence (haha) that Julie Andrews is one of my favorite things. Okay, that was bad. Whether flying a kite, singing in front of appropriately dramatic and picturesque landscapes, or inventing words that are unnecessarily long, Julie Andrews is pretty fantastic. Did anyone else feel the inexplicable need to go out and feed random pigeons after seeing Mary Poppins for the first time? Hm. Maybe that was just me.

6. John Wayne: Because he is the epitome of Western.

7. Groucho Marx: The mustache, the eyebrows, and of course his lovely singing voice. The only actor whose nose, glasses, and mustache are sold in costume and party stores.

8. Judi Dench: Perhaps not as widely revered as some of the above, but fully deserving of her place on this list. Easily recognizable and consistently magnificent.

9. Jimmy Stewart: One of those actors you can identify simply by the sound of his voice. And he sees giant invisible rabbits. Can’t beat that.

10. Johnny Depp: No, this is not me simply fangirling. I promise. But he’s already managed to establish himself successfully in various genres and roles. Every time we think of him as a certain type of character, he goes and plays a different sort. Not many of today’s movie stars can manage that. See? Beautiful and versatile.

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As for ‘greatest’, my list changes significantly:*

1. Ingrid Bergman

2. Bette Davis

3. Charlie Chaplin

4. Cary Grant

5. Jimmy Stewart

6. Audrey Hepburn

7. Katharine Hepburn

8. Fred Astaire

9. Gene Kelly

10. Humphrey Bogart

*Feel perfectly free to disagree with me on any of these. Who would you rather see on these lists, and why?

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Incidentally, AFI’s top 10 stars (thoughtfully and politically correctly divided by gender) are:

MEN: 1. Humphrey Bogart; 2. Cary Grant; 3. Jimmy Stewart; 4. Marlon Brando; 5. Fred Astaire; 6. Henry Fonda; 7. Clark Gable; 8. James Cagney; 9. Spencer Tracy; 10. Charlie Chaplin

WOMEN: 1. Katharine Hepburn; 2. Bette Davis; 3. Audrey Hepburn; 4. Ingrid Bergman; 5. Greta Garbo; 6. Marilyn Monroe; 7. Elizabeth Taylor; 8. Judy Garland; 9. Marlene Deitrich; 10. Joan Crawford

So the FTC group presentation on Wednesday got me thinking about the different types and functions of voiceover narration. There is a huge difference between the type of voiceover in the beginning of Little Women and the type used in Amelie. There seem to be two basic types of voiceover narration: narration by a character in the film itself and narration by an anonymous outside person. (Much like first-person vs. third-person narration in a novel.) So far so good. But what about function? Voiceovers can be used for any (or all) of these things:

-exposition/establish setting

-imparting information that wouldn’t otherwise be apparent

-plot advancement

-passage of time

-details about characters

There are other possible functions, of course, and filmmakers are constantly inventing new ones. I mentioned Amelie earlier, but the function of the voiceover narration in Amelie is actually extremely unconventional. Personal information about the characters, their habits, and even their thoughts is relayed to the audience through the narration. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another film that’s used narration in quite this way. And this is just one example of an unusual application of voiceover narration, but it obviously has remarkable flexibility as a film device. I think it’d be interesting to examine other films that contain unusual voiceover function. Can anyone think of more of these? I’d love to compile a list and see how and in what direction this aspect of film is developing. Perhaps we can even invent new ways to apply it. So…anyone? Ideas?

I was sitting in the Wash Room a few days ago, diligently reading my copy of Little Women. Upon realizing exactly what book I was reading, a guy sitting near me exclaimed:

“Oh! I hate that book! My mother made me read it when I was seven and I couldn’t stand it!”

So this proves three things.

1) While it is possible that a father giving his daughter Little Women will result in a positive experience for her, the reverse is not true. Boys just don’t seem to enjoy this book, even if given to them by their mothers.

2) Even people who don’t like this novel care intensely about it. It wasn’t just a mediocre “Oh, I had to read that once and didn’t like it too much.” It was an angry, passionate response!

3) His mother may have been in denial. Or sadistic. Or both.

After giving it a full class session and five minutes of thought, I’ve decided to say that all four girls are essential to the novel. Not because this is necessarily what I believe, but because I’m stubborn and contrary. On the whole, a rather excellent reason for doing something, in my opinion.

Youngest to oldest. (Saving best for last, obviously. Can you tell I’m an older sibling?)

Amy: Every family needs a whiny, misguided, pretentious, but occasionally adorable little girl. But she represents more than pure entertainment value. Jo is altogether too perfect, and like all perfect people, must therefore be tormented. Amy accomplishes this beautifully. Also, what better way to plague the occasional obsessive-compulsive reader than a character who consistently mispronounces every other word? Splendid.

Beth: While Jo’s personality represents absolute perfection (as proven by the number of readers dying to be her) (dying…hm…that’s not a bad idea for some of the creators of those online quizzes) (capital punishment seems fair for bad grammar and spelling), Beth’s temperament is ideal. You know why it’s ideal? Because she doesn’t have one, to speak of. She is shy, quiet, compliant, and well-behaved. She might as well be a chair. Or one of her beloved dolls. Not the one without arms, legs, and half its head though. Really, Beth doesn’t exist. She is therefore an ideal part of the scenery. Just think how empty the March house would look without Beth sitting silent and motionless in the corner. And that’s why we need Beth.

Jo: Because this book needed a cult following of rabid, giggly preteen girls. Instigating, feminist book-giving mothers optional.

Meg: Eye candy! Just kidding. She’s not that pretty. Her ultra-feminine, conformist personality is too distracting for that. However, she is a rather important plot device. Just think–Meg takes away Mr. Brooke so that Laurie has more time on his hands than he knows what to do with, and ends up making passes at Jo, causing widespread emotional turmoil. Excellent. Meg is The Eternal Source of Conflict. This also occurs when she sprains her ankle at the dance, forcing Jo to cease happily cavorting around with Laurie. In fact, it can be traced even further than this. Meg is the reason that Jo meets Laurie in the first place, due to her insistence that Jo stays on the side and doesn’t dance at the party. Jo meets fellow lurker, he falls in love with her eventually, she breaks his heart. Therefore, Meg is indirectly responsible for the complete emotional destruction of a fellow character! And who was the first one to refuse going to the Hummels’ in chapter 17? That’s right. Beth DIES because of Meg. Pure (accidental) evil. And the best part is, Meg has kids! Screwing up a whole new generation of the family is a definite plus. She appears sweet, highly domesticated, and easily pleased, but leaves chaos and misery in her wake. This novel badly needed a villain, and I think we’ve found a spectacular one in Meg.
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Fin.

First, quizzes! We can settle this “who do you identify with the most” question with a truly ungodly number of internet quizzes!!! (WARNING: some of these are ridiculously bad and/or horribly spelled.)

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

You can even comment with all 15 of your results! Really, you can ;)

Come on, you know you want to… especially you, Dr. Campbell.