How great is Citizen Kane?

It’s difficult to recognize a film as being “the greatest ever made” if I wouldn’t consider it once of my favorites. Films that I might personally consider the greatest would fulfill all good film-making techniques, but they would also be in a genre that I personally enjoy watching again and again. Citizen Kane was not my favorite film we watched this semester, but I can appreciate several reasons why it would be considered one of the greatest.
Citizen Kane was a great satire of Hearst, his wife, his young mistress, and his newspapers. Kane was portrayed as someone who became increasingly more superficial with how his money should be spent and how he treated the friends and colleagues around him, but, most importantly, he was not like that from the beginning. The film successfully developed Kane’s character, representing Kane as a child, as a young ambitious man, and later as a selfish and hardened individual. This was effective because I felt sorry for the kid who was forced to leave his home and sympathized with the adult who regretted that he didn’t know who he might have been if he hadn’t become so wealthy. I also liked Kane as a college drop-out who was excited about starting a new kind of newspaper. He was energetic and those scenes were my favorite. The progression from this person into someone who bought everything he liked (including a pretty wife), but lived an empty and hollow existence (literally, his home echoed because it was too large to fill), was a powerful representation of how wealth and political influence could affect someone’s life, despite how accurate or inaccurate it may have been to the real Hearst.
Welles used editing and cinematography very effectively to make important points, especially about the characters of Kane and Susan. Newspaper headlines were juxtaposed with Kane’s words at the wedding of Kane and Susan, joking that he would build an opera house if Susan’s singing career needed a boost. He did build an opera house, the headline stated, giving a comic effect while indicating Susan’s poor singing and Kane’s seriousness. Camera angles were high and from Kane’s perspective to indicate his authority, such as in the scene when his shadow covers Susan who is sitting on the floor when he orders her to continue her singing career.
The narrative was developed creatively and effectively, using the perspectives of several friends, an ex-wife, and a servant. In these memory sequences, the situations were not necessarily chronological – some memories jumped back to younger years after already viewing scenes when his hair was graying – but overall the order was logical and easy to follow.Many of the scenes were engaging, such as when Kane and Emily grew more and more distant over years of breakfasts, while others were intentionally bleak, such as when Susan describes how lonely it is to live in Xanadu. The film created a strong image of what Hearst’s life could have been – judging his waste of his unending supply of money and his treatment of his wives and longtime friends.
Unlike other films that may fill time with meaningless dialogue or images, everything in this film was intentional and satirized Kane’s attitude or ambitions or lifestyle. Even the brief shot of a couple of monkeys on Kane’s property in the beginning of the film make reference to the private zoo he constructed on his property, a senseless extravagance. It missed several elements that I often look for in a film – romance, comedy (minus a few comedic scenes or conversations), or exciting adventure or action – but I believe if I watched Citizen Kane a few more times and looked carefully at the mise en scene, dialogue and cinematography, I could find significance and purpose in nearly every everything.

how these films all fall under "film noir"

I never used the term “film noir” until this class, but when I read the article describing it and we began watching the Maltese Falcon, I recognized this genre of film. I knew the 40’s style film with a detective, a crime that he would solve by the end, and at least one pretty lady thrown into the plot. However, it wasn’t until I watched more film noir and we discussed and debated the traits of a true “noir” that I recognized the more subtle, but quite important, qualities such as the moral ambiguity of the detective himself (in addition to the suspects), the melancholy mood or attitude, and an ending that remains unresolved in some way. Another aspect of the bleak storyline is often the corruption of police who may thwart the efforts of the detective or even be as dangerous as the criminals. The element of the police is not necessary for a film to fall under this genre, but it was present in all four film noir’s that I viewed.

In the four film noirs I watched, instead of feeling secure when the police arrived on the scene, there was a sense of uneasiness because they were dishonest or dangerous.
In Maltese Falcon, the police basically have no idea who is involved in the two murders or how the search for the Maltese Falcon is related. They are prepared to take detective Spade in for killing his partner, which would be useless because the true murderer would never be caught without Spade’s understanding of the people involved. If the police had their way, Spade would be in prison and the murderer would remain free.

In A Touch of Evil, the police frame Sanchez and arrest him for murder (although Sanchez is guilty, so ironically they framed the murderer). The police chief tries to take down Vargas, who is working as a detective on the case, and the police chief ends up killing his partner.
Initially, the police in Chinatown disregard the case of Mr. Muwlray’s murder as accidental. However, it becomes clear that they are involved somehow in the political corruption of the city. In the final scene, the police refuse to believe (or admit) that Mr. Cross is the murderer, and they end up shooting and killing the woman who is in fact innocent.

Finally, I watched Sin City which is the most recent film noir I have watched (made in 2005) and it is much more violent and complex than the older film noirs. Some of the elements were familiar to me as I compared it to the other films, including the conflict between the main characters and the police. Specifically, in two separate storylines, the police arrest a man for killing or raping the woman who he actually loves. The big ugly guy is framed for Goldie’s death so he works alone to find the murderer, but he ends up being killed by the electric chair for her murder. The police put Hartigan in prison for 8 years for the rape of Nancy, who he saved from the rapist. It is up to Hartigan to make sure that Nancy remains safe because the police will not condemn the rapist because of his political involvement.

After seeing Maltese Falcon, I expected some classic elements, such as an office and secretary for the detective and a tell-all at the end (with everyone seated in the living room to hear the explanation of the murder), to be included in every film noir. Most of the film noirs excluded those and more important traits remained.

Of these four film noirs, and others described by people in the class, the ending was never what I expected or what would have been satisfying. Like in other films, the characterization allows me to understand and even relate to the characters, but in film noir they do not reach a happy resolution in the end – a main character or his lover ends up dead, or the lovers are separated, or the guilty escape without punishment. Also, I want to trust the protagonist in these films, but I’m often questioning his decisions or actions because despite his intentions, he is not all good himself (such as killing 10 people in response to a single murder).

These feelings can be replicated in films without necessarily rainy city streets to replicate the mood (although it can be helpful) – I think film noir requires characters with certain motivations, usually in response to a crime, who are complex rather than just good or just bad, and a plot that moves towards a resolution but never quite wraps up loose ends. Film noir can keep me considering the conflict and the characters long after it ends, and in several ways it often provides some kind of comparison to real life.

hints of film noir in Sin City

Sin City began with a single act of violence- a man killed a woman with one shot from a silenced gun – but by the time I reached the final scene, I was covering my eyes and screaming when I realized Hartigan was ripping off the man’s (or alien’s?) genitals and smashing through the man’s skull with his fist. I can remember only a few scenes of the film in which all of the characters survived – usually multiple characters were killed during any altercation, so I was constantly anticipating the moment when a knife would stab someone in the throat or body parts would be blown off by guns. I mostly disliked the film and I was relieved when it finally ended.

When I broke the film down into some notes, I could see the relationship between this film and a classic film noir in some of the themes of police corruption and the unclear motives or sense of morality of several main characters.

When I stepped back from the graphic violence, I could also recognize some interesting parallels in the structure of the film involving an individual searching for a murderer or rapist because other authority figures had the wrong man or intentionally avoided the situation. One of the first characters on a hunt for a killer was the big ugly guy in love with a woman called Goldie. She was killed before he awoke in the morning and, even though she was already gone, he was determined to find her murderer. In the end, he was accused for her death and killed by the electric chair. A second man also found himself responsible for attaining justice for his love interest, a prostitute named Gail and the benefit of the other hookers in that section of the city. He and his lover both survived. The final storyline that matched this theme followed the retired police officer Hartigan who was put in prison for the rape of the young girl he saved from the serial rapist. He and Nancy fell in love when they were reunited, and only he could stop the alien-man from trying to attack her again. Nancy survives but he kills himself in the end.

These three narratives used an idea similar to film noir in which a man knows the truth about a crime and uses his own means to take care of the situation – working against or simply without the police.

Overall, it was difficult to even notice these broader ideas because the amount of violence and sexuality was overkill and the sense of chronology was confusing. Every female character was completely sexual, most were dressed like strippers and some were completely naked. Essentially, I was tired of seeing breasts and butt-cheeks. The chronology of the film confused me and prevented me from understanding the connection between certain events and characters. When the film returned to the story of the retired officer, suddenly we were back in time and characters who were already killed were sitting at the bar in a strip club. This made me question the timing of other events in the midst of the film because nothing was necessarily chronological. Events could occur without reference to time or even the purpose. Maybe I would have enjoyed the movie more if I understood it, but I doubt it.

Chinatown

Chinatown started out fairly simply – a detective is given an assignment to discover if Mrs. Muwlray’s husband is having an affair. He follows Mr. Muwlray and sees her with a woman several times, takes photos, and the affair is publicized because he is an important businessman. Things become complicated when Mr. Gides, the detective, realizes that the woman who came to his office was not the real Mrs. Muwlray, and more complex when Mr. Muwlray is found drowned.
This is a classic case of film noir- the police mainly disregard the death, labeling it accidental, but Mr. Gides refuses to stop investigating it as murder. Traditionally, the police were too quick to judge, and the detective continued alone on a search for the murderer and the secrets of everyone involved.
What threw me off a bit was the character of (the real) Mrs. Muwlray and her relationship with the detective as they spent increasingly more time together. She seemed like a classic example of “femme fatal”- the two slept together, yet we still don’t understand her secretive behavior. I anticipated the scene when he would prove her guilty and the film would resolve. Frustratingly, it deviated here, and he learned that she was hiding something unrelated to the murder of her husband. This left her off the hook for murder, but it left me vaguely confused about some previous parts of the movie.
The ending also disturbed me by challenging the traditional narrative that I normally expect, especially in film noir with a distinct protagonist and a conflict he is working to resolve. Just when I was prepared to see everything resolve in a final scene, a sudden change in action took place and all control over the situation was lost. I thought there must be at least some additional dialogue or action in response, but it ended. I was left with unanswered questions and without the satisfaction of seeing the guilty taken away by police before the credits rolled. The movie was engaging, but its startling variations to the expected detective storyline left me disappointed, feeling like the previous two hours were useless.

"Touch of Evil": an edgier, more complex example of film noir

“A Touch of Evil” began with a long, continuous shot – showing the night life of a town along the Mexican-American border, and honing in especially on a man and a woman driving in a car and a young couple walking along the street. The shot suddenly broke off in response to a loud blast, and cut to a shot of the car exploding. The young couple, Mike Vargas and his wife Susie, runs over to the scene by the car. This moment sparks the ensuing story of danger and dishonesty because Vargas, a Mexican cop, becomes involved along with the American cops in the search for the killer of the man and woman in the car.

Reminding me of the previous film noir style movie we watched, “The Maltese Falcon,” the first bit of action in the movie was a murder. This was the most significant similarity they shared, however, because I found “A Touch of Evil” to be much edgier and more complex. It touched on issues of police corruption, abuse of suspects, racism, gangs, and while there were still a few laughable, fake punches, there were also some very violent scenes.

This film noir was darker than the other, and I could only trust two characters for sure – Vargas and Susie. The others were unpredictable, and I remained unsure of how far certain characters would go, as far as undermining the law versus maintaining some respect for the people involved. There was great contrast between Vargas and the American police captain, as the two opposed each other until the very end. Vargas valued honesty and tangible truth, and he was devoted to his wife (besides neglecting her at a motel in the middle of nowhere). The police captain valued his personal career and pinning down a suspect, and he lashed out in violence in remembrance of his wife who was killed. I appreciated the depth of many of the characters and the interesting themes resulting from a plot with an interracial couple in a setting alternating between Mexico and the U.S. I wouldn’t mind watching this one again to catch all of the subtleties.

The Maltese Falcon

This detective film started off rather quickly­­- we were barely introduced to the detective and his partner before detective Spade’s (Humphrey Bogart) partner Miles was shot. Another man was shot directly following this murder, and into a tangle of characters and uncertain motives we’re thrown. I’m glad it began this way- I knew it was going involve some sort of mystery so there’s no use wasting time. Spade was sent on a job to follow a man at the request of a young woman who came to the detective office. While on the job that evening, he was shot and killed. Soon after police were investigating this death, the man who Spade was following was also killed.
Police question Spade concerning the death of his partner, whose wife he was having an affair with, and Spade wonders what the beautiful young woman’s motive was for having Spade follow this man.
The plot was complicated enough to keep me guessing until the end- when I was still unsure exactly how certain characters were involved and how dangerous they were. Keeping it more lively was some humor inserted here and there. Whether it was completely intentional or not, I’m not sure. The film is from 1941 so the shots that made me laugh may just be dated attempts at being serious or dramatic. However, when Peter Lorre’s character Cairo was the recipient of the woman’s fake kicks and punches, it was a good laugh and prevented the scene from becoming tedious. The ending was terribly corny, but I was satisfied – I was grateful that Spade made the right choice instead of falling for the girl’s tears. This would be a good rainy-day mystery but not one that I would take too seriously.

Monsoon Wedding and Daughters of Dust don't conform to Hollywood conventions

Monsoon Wedding and Daughters of the Dust were different from nearly every American movie I’ve experienced- both of these films differed little in standard movie length, yet they managed to accomplish more than the typical single-plot, single-protagonist Hollywood movie.
Monsoon Wedding had numerous narrative points of view. The audience experienced situations from the point of view of the bride, her father, her cousin, her brother, the event planner and other characters, seeing moments from perspectives that no other characters could experience. The multiple narrative points of view allowed for many plots to be underway simultaneously, making for a more complex and meaningful film than most I have seen.
Daughters of the Dust also had no single protagonist for me to relate to, recording the experiences of numerous family members at once. This film was less effective than Monsoon Wedding because its complexity made for a confusing narrative and I felt unattached to any characters instead of feeling as though I was sharing all of their experiences. However, I imagine that the meaning that was meant to come across in this film could not be limited to the narrative point of view of a single character. Unlike the traditional Hollywood film with a clear establishment of a conflict and progress towards a simple resolution, Daughters of the Dust created an experience where the characters’ progression towards a final decision was unclear. There were scenes of conversation that seemed to contribute little to the ultimate problem they were facing. Perhaps it better reflected life in its jumble of characters and dialogue than a typical Hollywood film with a main character following a clear-cut beginning, middle and end.
Both of these films are more similar to classical European narratives than they are to classic Hollywood narratives. According to Hollywood, a narrative should maintain a clear and understandable perspective for the viewer and include a clear conflict and resolution. Both films have numerous perspectives, and Daughters of Dust is especially difficult to follow. According to The Film Experience, “The European model tends to situate the story in large and varied social contexts that dilute the singularity of a central protagonist and is usually less action-oriented than its U.S. counterpart” (263-264). Monsoon Wedding works through many conflicts, and Daughters of Dust has several underlying issues that the characters must deal with. These particular films worked with a similar technique, but Monsoon Wedding was most successful in creating something enjoyable that I would watch again. After watching this film, I would like to see more directors deviate from the classic Hollywood narrative style and achieve more depth in the allotted two-hours.

Monsoon Wedding, colorful and profound

Monsoon Wedding had my attention in the first shot with a vivid view of orange petals falling on the upturned face of Aditi’s father, and I remained interested in the characters’ relationships and the colorful shots throughout the film.
What I possibly appreciated most was the number of characters who were important and revealed a certain depth of their vulnerability, rather than a singular focus on the young woman getting married and her troubles. One character in particular, the event planner for the wedding, was an argumentative man who was initially irritating (but occasionally humorous). His character was developed beyond this first impression, and I saw his insecurities and the loneliness he felt at home with a complaining mother who “may never see the face of a grandson.” When he began falling in love with Alice, the rough exterior began to disappear and it was replaced by a man clumsily trying to flirt with a pretty woman. This was a surprising glimpse into the life of a character I expected to remain a minor one, but we were even invited into his run-down home where he returns after work.
Other areas of the movie were troubling and emotional, such as when Ria confronts her past and the father struggles knowing that his girls have not always felt safe and happy. And, of course, Aditi deals with a past relationship and accepting this new one which has been arranged by the parents of her and her fiancé. Unlike other movies with one conflict that is easily resolved, this film spoke to numerous realities that complicate the lives of family members. One moment people might be laughing together and in another they may feel at a loss, but the problems of each individual is important because it affects the others. It would have been shallow for this film to claim that once Aditi's relationships were straightened out, the wedding would be problem-free. A wedding is not just for the bride and groom (which would be much simpler), but it is an important, and even stressful, day for each member of the family.
I can’t think of another movie I’ve seen in which so many subplots occur, involving nearly every character the audience is introduced to. I expected Aditi to be the main character, but I slowly realized that there were at least five or six characters with significant stories. There were a few points in the film when I was afraid the plot was wrapping up to end, and luckily it didn’t end until the big wedding celebration was underway because I wanted to see all of the plots resolve.

daughters of dust

Daughters of the Dust is a film that I might watch several more times and still feel uncertain about all of its meanings – but if Julie Dash (producer, director, and writer) wanted it to be clear, she could have developed a more structured and straightforward plot, so her intention must be hidden in the film’s complexity.
The film began with several scenes of characters I did not yet know and unfamiliar places, making for a confusing beginning to a story that became only slightly more logical as it went on. The Peazant family has always lived on an island off of the coast of the south-eastern states. The film begins with a few family members returning from the north, along with a couple of companions, to recruit the rest of the family to join them. Some of the film was frustrating, due to disjunctive editing, including unexplained clips of hands pouring dust onto the ground, and dialogue that was often hard to follow. Thankfully, for a scene that was confusing or unresolved, there was often beautiful cinematography in a scene to follow. If I wasn’t completely following the plot, I could at least appreciate the scenes on the beach with striking colors of the food and place settings of a large family picnic or the contrast between the girls’ dark braids and white dresses when they were dancing and spinning on the sand. Most interesting to me was the character of Eula’s unborn child – a joyful little girl who followed her parents around as they individually struggled with the complexity of her conception. Her father, Eli, was perhaps taking the knowledge of Eula’s rape the hardest, and the child said that she had to convince her dad that she was his. I hoped that the film would allow us to see Eli’s interaction with his daughter, but the film ended before Eula gave birth. I enjoyed aspects of the film, but when it was finished I felt like the meaning in its characters and symbols was reserved for those involved in the production or those already familiar with this culture and people.

Rick's attitude towards love in Casa Blanca

The various takes on “love” in Casa Blanca interested me most in this film. I saw Rick, the owner of Rick’s Café Americain, faced with multiple attitudes towards romantic love as he listened to the stories of other characters and – to my surprise – he displayed a practical and deep love for a woman rather than acting romantically or spontaneously.
In the beginning of the film, Rick seems like a cynical person who holds no tender feelings towards anyone – not even a beautiful woman who wants to spend the evening with him. As more characters are introduced, I discover that Rick’s attitude is the outcome of being hurt by a woman he deeply cared for. As Rick angrily deals with this freshly opened wound when Ilsa returns into his life – but remains out of his reach – he is faced with challenging questions about love and relationships. A young Bulgarian woman asks if it is right to do something ethically wrong for the sake of her love for her husband and a future they might have. There is also an underlying question of whether what Ilsa did was considered an affair if she believed that he husband was dead, and if her husband deserves to know. Rick also sees and rejects Captain Renault’s attitude towards women – which is superficial and physical. The questions that are raised by the characters, mainly “what does a loving relationship look like?”, caused me to think critically and realize that there were no easy answers. I could not guess what Rick’s decision would be because I could not decide for myself how it should all be resolved. Ultimately, Rick chose to disregard his personal rule that he should lookout for no one but himself (“I don’t stick my neck out for anybody”) and he considered Ilsa first. In reflection of Rick’s actions, the Bulgarian woman who needed a visa and even Ilsa in her honesty with her husband, the film rightly left me questioning, “Would I have done the same thing?”

disjunctive editing when Bonnie tries to run

The editing in Bonnie and Clyde maintained continuity throughout most of the film, making the few scenes with disjunctive editing very noticeable. One scene in particular used disjunctive editing to give us a perspective similar to that of Bonnie. When the previous scene ended, suddenly a voice was calling Bonnie’s name and a sequence of shots showed a cornfield, Bonnie running through the field, Clyde running down the edge of a road, and the others slowly driving behind in the car. The cuts were quick, giving flashes of Bonnie moving frantically and Clyde jogging down the road. Bonnie was running from screen right to left, and Clyde was also running from screen right to left. This gave the impression that perhaps Bonnie was running further and further away from Clyde as he tried to catch up. There was no establishing shot, however, so I had no impression of where Bonnie was in relation to Clyde or in what direction she was actually running. This style gave a sense of disorientation and confusion. The others did not know where Bonnie was, and perhaps she didn’t know which way she was running if she became disoriented in the field. At last, Clyde spotted her and rushed to Bonnie’s side, but even this reunion did not make her location entirely clear. In addition to creating a sense of being physically lost in a field, the effect of this scene was psychological. Bonnie wanted to escape this lifestyle and return to a safe life with her family, but she also loved Clyde and could not conceive of leaving him. Bonnie wished for the best of both worlds, but she settled for a life with Clyde despite its dangers and restrictions. In one sense, she was comforted when he found her, but she continued to long for the stable home she was futilely trying to reach.

bonnie and clyde

Bonnie and Clyde was different than I expected; it was kind of a quirky movie. Some scenes were tense and violent, others were awkward and uncomfortable, and some were surprisingly really funny.
Bonnie and Clyde meet under odd circumstances- Bonnie is naked in her second-floor bedroom when she spots Clyde out the window attempting to steal her mother’s car. Looking more for a distraction from her frustratingly monotonous life than to interfere with the crime, she throws on a dress and runs outside to talk to him. Walking through the quiet southern town, Clyde proves to Bonnie that he isn’t afraid to use a gun and robs a grocery store – the pair takes off in the first of many similar scenes of a car speeding out of town. They pick up a young gas station attendant in one scene, apparently in need of some extra help, and they soon acquire Clyde’s brother and sister-in-law as part of the team. Interestingly, there is little point to their complicated lifestyle of robbing banks, fleeing sheriffs, and hiding out in motels- other than the cash. Cash isn’t worth quite as much when you can’t live in luxury, however, and Bonnie even points out in a quiet moment with Clyde: She originally believed they were going somewhere, but now she realizes that they are just going. They have to keep running if they want to live, and that’s all they can ever have.
When Bonnie and Clyde were still becoming acquainted, they shared a table in a diner and Clyde predicted nearly every detail of Bonnie’s life as a waitress and how she felt trapped. Her need to escape led to every detail of the film – beginning when she ran downstairs in hope of meeting someone new and exciting and ending with countless deaths. She wanted to run, and they literally ran from their former lives and from the authorities. While I enjoyed the parts that made me laugh – like when Clyde decides to chase the car that was chasing them, or when Gene Wilder learns that his girlfriend is 33 years old – there was a sense of sadness in this film. Bonnie wanted a new life, but she desperately wished she could return to parts of the old life when she realized she was in so deep. This scenario can be applied to nearly anyone who worked so hard to escape their former life that they can never return- even when they change their mind. Bonnie continuously alluded to returning home to her mother or to a married life with Clyde where no one was chasing them. Even her mother understood that it was irreversible and they needed to keep running to protect themselves. Perhaps it was for this reason that I hoped they would escape the police and find somewhere to live in secret. They were thieves and murderers who frustrated me, but because I could see their humanity and their odd capability to kill one person but to love someone else tenderly, I sympathized with them at times. The characters experienced a strange variety of emotions in this film, and when it ended I wasn’t sure how to feel.

the power of disjuctive editing in Run, Lola Run

Most of Run, Lola Run followed normal continuity rules- it was easy for me to follow what order things were occurring and in what direction Lola was running (heading towards Manni, Lola mostly ran across the screen from right to left). For emphasis, however, the continuity in several scenes was broken by disjunctive editing. In this way, the cuts were quick and jerky. This kind of editing draws my attention because the cuts are obvious in comparison to previously smooth shots. In a scene picturing Manni riding the subway, jumping onto the platform to avoid police and forgetting the bag of money on the seat, there was suddenly a succession of choppy shots: Manni’s face, the bag inside the subway, Manni’s face and, again, the bag. This is an example of overlapping editing in which a shot of Manni’s face (same angle and expression) was shown multiple times, as well as the same view of the bag. This breaks continuity because it is as if time fails to move forward, but it is intentional. This editing style caught my attention and caused me to wonder why this moment was different from the rest. This moment was significant because Manni’s forgetfulness – and his sudden realization of this mistake – caused the rest of the day’s events to take place. It not only caught my attention, but the overlapping editing appeared to recreate Manni’s experience of that moment. Upon realizing that he left $100,000 on the subway leaving the station, wouldn’t time seem to stop and images of the bag flash into his mind? This was clever and it effectively stressed the importance that this instant would have on everything else to follow.

The unexpected depth in Run, Lola Run

Run, Lola Run was a film that repeated the same 20 minutes of a single day in Lola and Manni’s life four times – an idea so frustrating that it was only saved by the surprising depth that worked itself into Lola’s sprint from her apartment to Manni. Lola’s boyfriend Manni lost a bag of money that he collected for a drug dealer – and he had 20 minutes until this guy was going to show up and kill Manni if he didn’t get the $100,000. Lola is running to stop Manni from doing something drastic. About the third time that I saw Lola hang up the phone and beginning running down the stairs, I almost groaned out loud. I nearly couldn’t stand to watch the exact same thing again, yet this repetition was completely intentional so perhaps the director is laughing at my frustration. I soon forgot this annoyance because I found myself focused on the characters’ actions and reactions (amazing how much can happen within a few street blocks). The details of characters’ pasts and futures that are quickly inserted into the film provoke special attention, and the effects of every person and every car Lola passes on the outcome is clever and complex enough that I might have to watch again to fully understand. With a basic plotline and a short timeline, it was the details that kept me engrossed in this film.
The outcome was easily altered by the slightest change in timing or interactions with others along the way. At first, the effect that Lola had on individual lives – just by passing by them or bumping into them – was laughable, but the more glimpses I was given into individuals’ futures and the way their actions in turn affected Manni or Lola, the more I believed it. Timing is everything and attitude is everything – the effects on the lives we saw seemed over-the-top, but what if it was possible? The first time Lola passed a woman in the bank, she ran past saying “Sorry!” but the second time she passed the woman she screamed at her angrily: “What the f- are you looking at!” It’s difficult to interpret the woman’s reactions to Lola – the polite Lola initiated a reaction in the woman that left her suicidal and dead, but the angry Lola summoned up confidence in the woman who ended up having a sexual affair with the bank teller – but it caused me to reflect on those little moments in life where one interaction can lead to something else.
In addition to such flashes into the future, black and white flashbacks of Manni and Lola gave me more insight into their relationship and more devotion to the characters – I hoped more than ever that they would meet up and find a solution to this mess. In both flashbacks, Manni and Lola were in bed expressing their insecurities- How soon would Lola get over Manni if he died? Why does Manni love Lola and not some other girl? Their honesty and the patient way that the other listens and tries to dismiss these ideas emphasized a tender connection between them, and now I cared about them as well. It’s amazing how a few short moments of a conversation indicated a supportive relationship, and similarly a short moment within the critical 20 minute frame of the story could mean the difference between life and death – for Manni, Lola or even a stranger. It left me reflecting on how critical timing is and how we use it, while we actually have only a slight control over it – after all, only Lola can choose to try again and take it from the top.

Do the Right Thing: setting and props emphasize tension in the community

When Mookie first entered Sal’s Famous Pizza, the shop was so realistic that I wondered if I had been there before. The booths against the wall, the counter situated only a few steps from the doorway and the tall windows by the sidewalk resembled any downtown pizzeria one might visit. This was a basic setting for much of the important action. The neighborhood teens spent a lot of time in the shop getting lunch or hanging out, but it was also a source of conflict between the owner and the customers. The setting was a natural hangout, familiar to anyone who has had a slice of pizza, but it was also significant in the way that certain props contributed to the meaning in the characters’ relationships. The counter where customers order pizza acts as a barrier between the owner Sal and Mookie’s friends. From behind the counter, Sal argues with Buggin’ Out over the price of a slice and he hollers at Radio Raheem until he turns down his boom box. Sal, standing beside the cash register and the pizza oven, has the power to refuse to serve Radio Raheem until the music is off, and he also has the power (as he makes clear) to hang photos of famous Italians on the wall. There is a distance between Sal and the neighborhood visitors. He is an authority figure in his pizzeria but he is also Italian while everyone else is black. Hidden behind the counter is a metaphorical prop representing Sal’s anger towards those who question his authority. Whenever he becomes really frustrated, Sal brings out a baseball bat. The first time, his son took the bat from him before he could take any swings. The second time the bat came from behind the counter it was the beginning of neighborhood-wide struggle between those who “belong” in the neighborhood and white figures of authority. Things as ordinary as a pizza shop counter and a baseball bat were used to bring to surface racial tensions within the community.

review: Do the Right Thing

Do the Right Thing centers around the various interactions that take place in a primarily black, urban neighborhood. Conflicts take place between black residents of the block, white “intruders” or white cops, Italian shop owners, and Korean shop owners. Even conflicts between neighbors, family members and friends are continuous, venting the anger and frustration that is apparent in many of these relationships. The main source of conflict is Sal’s Famous Pizza, an Italian family business, functioning as the main eatery in the neighborhood and the only three Italian men in the neighborhood. The main character, Mookie, is the only employee besides the owner’s two sons who works in the pizza shop – sometimes he gets along with the owner, he never gets along with his son Pino, and he is friends with his son Vito. Much of the conflict revolves around racial differences, but the people of this community also seem to start trouble whenever the opportunity presents itself- never neglecting the chance to verbally belittle someone. There were times when neither person involved in an argument understood why he was angry or why he was reacting in such a way, and often their actions were ironic: Many people hate an ethnic group for hating them based on their ethnicity; Mookie reprimands his girlfriend for “always f-ing cursing” in front of their son, while their son sits between them. However, in every situation, one person backs down or walks away so that the quarrel dissipates – except for one instance, and it escalates violently and tragically.
The majority of the film is intense and loud – the shouting often escalates until the reason for the disagreement is nearly forgotten, and it frustrated me and made me wish that someone would intervene and force them to be sensible. Despite feeling some aggravation, I remained attentive and invested in the characters’ lives.
The relationships seemed real and believable to me. Many of the characters care about each other, but they mainly show it by yelling at one another, whether they are angry that they don’t spend enough time together, or don’t lookout for themselves, or aren’t doing enough with their lives. In other situations, characters seem to lash out because they were already angry and the closest person is the next target. Underneath some of the frustrations there’s a concern for the other, even though it’s difficult to read under the hurt or anger.
In a way, the strong sense of community in this neighborhood was empowering. Despite the typical arguments among each other, when it came down to anyone or any group against their neighborhood, they were unified without question. In other situations it could be difficult to understand where their loyalties were, because they may stick up for someone at first and then speak out against them later (Mookie defends Sal’s when his friends try to create trouble, but he throws the first trash can through the window to destroy the place), but I think that their own emotions are confused- one action can spark fury against someone who they had respected earlier. While an underlying anger remained, I had a sense that many of the conflicts were forgotten, as if nothing personal happened, when that the community continued to function normally the following day, and this fascinated me. While their actions could make me frustrated, it was difficult to dislike or resent the characters. They had tough exteriors, but I genuinely liked most of them.

mise-en-scene explores two angles of the godfather's life

The beginning of The Godfather constructs two deliberately contrasting settings in an effort to establish the two areas of Vito’s life: the office setting and the outdoor celebration of Connie’s wedding. The director makes use of a naturalistic mise-en-scene, instantly convincing me that the four men in the initial scene are conducting serious business in an office, thanks to their strict attire and formal attitudes. Likewise, I have no trouble believing that the second setting is a real wedding, with all of the busyness, (the photographer struggling to take a structured family photo before Vito wanders off to greet more guests) and the recognizable matching dresses for bridesmaids and tuxes for the groomsmen. The setting seems like a real place. Although I’ve never seen this estate before, it appears familiar and natural.
Within the office, the only characters present are men dressed in dark tuxes. The heavy furniture indicates importance and rigidness, and the slats on the window allow only stripes of natural light to enter the room. Dim desk lamps are the other visible sources of light. An overall sense of seriousness comes across through the shadows and dark colors, and the door is shut closing the room off from outside noise or interruptions. By implementing lighting, props and costume, it is clear that this room is intended to be strictly for business. This private aspect of Vito’s life contrasts quite piercingly with the wedding scene that suddenly flashes onto the screen.
In the courtyard of the house, a wedding reception is taking place. In contrast to the previous scene, the light makes everyone visible. The sunlight and the sky indicate a sense of freedom and openness. Family and friends are crowded together on the lawn, with barely enough room for anyone to move past, but the faces and voices are joyful. This use of social blocking in this scene shows us that the family and guests at this party trust each other, in the sense that they are touching each other in greeting, pressed closely to each other in a crowd, and dancing with one another. Each individual is surrounded by many others, while in the previous scene social blocking indicated a professional distance between Vito and his client who were separated by a broad desktop.
Both settings are very distinct. Vito’s public life is spent enjoying his family in a courtyard crowded with loved ones, but his family recognizes the clear boundary between this and his business. There is a sharp contrast between the attitudes of these two spheres, but as the movie develops there will be instances when this boundary blurs because Vito’s family significantly plays into his line of business.

the Godfather: a powerful film

The Godfather is a classic, but I only ever watched the beginning (mainly the wedding scene) before tonight. I was impressed by the depth of the characters in the Corleone family and the contrasts made between devotion to family and commitment to following through on business. The Corleone family is headed by Vito Corleone, the godfather, who controls their affairs and their involvement in the mob. The contrast between Vito’s love for his family and the ease with which he commits violence against others (essentially, someone else’s family) is striking. When Vito makes someone an offer they can’t refuse, it means “either his brains or his signature will be on that contract.” This business functions as a means of providing for his family and loved ones, or protecting them. When Vito refuses an offer from a man called Sollozzo, the Corleone family becomes involved in a complicated, and seemingly endless, string of attacks and meetings and murders.
Vito’s youngest son is initially the most innocent of the Corleone sons; He loves his family but wants nothing to do with the family business: “That’s my family, not me.” However, when he finds himself in a position where he is obligated to step up and protect his father, Michael begins a transition of becoming numb to the pain he causes others and increasingly more devoted to the “business.” He reaches a point when he contradicts his previous rejection of the family business, by explaining that his father “is like any powerful man who is responsible for others.” Everything becomes business for Michael, but in the Corleone family business is nearly synonymous with family. Those in the business are part of the family, and anyone who denies their family will lose this protection. The contrast of Michael at the beginning and Michael at the end produces a sobering effect, because after witnessing the succession of deaths and understanding how personal it became, I could understand why he changed. When Michael killed two men, I shared a sense of satisfaction, and when a Corleone was killed, I felt upset and defensive. The Corleone’s drew me in and I sided with them (although not necessarily agreeing with them) because I felt like I knew them.

the helicopters: cinematography in Apocalypse Now

The points of view in the scene of a helicopter carrying Willard, Lieutenant Kilgore and other soldiers, accompanied in the air by several other American helicopters, created a sense of beauty and excitement that was ironic considering the damage they were about to bring to a school of children.
At times, the camera gave the impression that I was looking out from inside of the helicopter. The shots alternated between the men’s faces. I could see the men situated in various positions and calmly interacting with one another as the sky rushed past their heads. This gave a sense that these men were in control, especially with Willard’s casual body language.
In one of the most impressive shots, the camera was in front of the band of helicopters – pulling away at the same speed that the helicopters were approaching. The background was clearly moving past, but the helicopters remained steady in the frame, pointed towards camera – giving the impression that the helicopters and I were face-to-face. The helicopters were identically dark in color, contrasting with the light sky behind them. I suppose if I wasn’t approaching the scene from the American side, so to speak, this image would be intimidating. Rather, it felt empowering. The number of helicopters and their strong, unwavering approach indicated the authority and power.
The shots of the school, soon to be under attack by the American helicopters, were at high-angles making the Cambodian teachers and students look vulnerable and small from the dominating overhead perspective. There were no close-ups of these individuals – all of the shots were long shots, creating an image of these people as not only small but also anonymous. If we saw their faces, we would know them like we know the American soldiers. Instead, the long shots show individuals running but they stop short of becoming too personal.
This scene, while I remained unsure of the purpose of this short mission, gave a clear indication of the authority and pride of the American soldiers. The scene framed the Americans’ faces, glorified the approach of the helicopters, and trivialized the people under attack.

Apocalypse Now- 'what happened?'

(*spoiler alert)

Apocalyse Now is a film that details the entire journey of Captain Willard as he travels up the river to Cambodia during the Vietnam War to complete a top secret mission. The beginning and end are clear: Willard receives the assignment, he travels up the river and he completes the assignment. We understand that he must kill Colonel Kurtz, an American soldier, but everything that happens in between is completely chaotic. Willard and the four other men sharing the small boat stop along the way for various reasons. They ride a helicopter as it drops bombs on a small village, they stumble upon a group of soldiers who are acting without a leader, and they are nearly mauled by a tiger. In a particularly disturbing interruption, Willard’s boat comes alongside a small boat of Cambodians and the commander orders one of the soldiers to search it. Without warning, one soldier opens fire with a machine gun and another soldier follows his lead until they have shot each Cambodian passenger countless times. When this eruption of gunfire ends, suddenly the men, who ruthlessly killed the passengers, turn their concern to the only surviving woman. Their attention and their emotions switch illogically, and we are never given explanations before the soldiers continue on.
The film becomes progressively violent and odd, and by the end my only thought was, “What just happened?” I was not only confused and overwhelmed by the sequence of events but also disturbed by many of the gruesome images.
But the look on Willard’s face in the final shot indicated the same thought: “What just happened?”
“What did I see? And what did I do?”
His eyes stare forward without blinking and he controls the boat with mechanical motions. The island slowly drifts away in the background, but Willard’s expression never changes. A voice-over speaks the last words of the film, reflecting my feelings and the apparent numbness of Willard: “The horror.”

framing creates powerful perspectives in Diving Bell

For over a half an hour, I spent the movie peering from behind Jean-Do’s left eye. The fantastic cinematography created such a realistic effect that I felt tense and frustrated at times, as though I was trapped in a body that could not move and was unable to speak. But in an instant, we were snatched out of his paralyzed body and taken to a moment in his former life.
Jean-Do’s therapist, a young woman devoted to communicating with him no matter how tedious it became, sat beside him in the hospital room with a notepad and pencil to dictate his yes or no answers to simple questions. The framing of this scene was confined, alternating between the therapist’s attractive face – specifically her eyes – and her hands clasping the pencil and the paper. Clearly, the framing of a shot indicates exactly what the director would like us to see – mostly her eyes which gaze directly into his. For these moments, he has her undivided attention and, because he has no other distractions, she has his as well. The world outside continues on unnoticed by us because, as far as we are concerned, time is gauged according to the therapist’s questions and Jean-Do’s blinks. There is silence besides her voice, the pencil on paper, and Jean-Do’s audible thoughts, and there is nothing to see except a pair of eyes and hands. The framing has slowed me down and forced me to take notice of the little details of her face.
Jean-Do has barely any movement of his head, limiting his view of this woman to only a level frame of her face and a high-angle frame of her notepad. Within both shots, she nearly fills the frame, narrowing Jean-Do’s world to a single individual – not even able to see the room they are occupying.
With a final frame nearly filled by the therapist’s face, she asks the question that sends him back to a day when his world was too wide and fast to notice anyone’s eyes: “Were you the editor of Elle magazine?”
The framing instantly changes: There is a walkway bordered by strong pillars and the confident stride of a man walking away from the camera, revealing not only the back of his head but the shape of his shoulders and back under a dark sports jacket. Pulling even further away, the next frame is of a building and an expensive car parked along the road. Jean-Do enters an open lobby with high ceilings and bustling photographers and models, and within a sequence of cuts, one of the frames shows us his face. It is not a close-up, like the view we had of the therapist. He is not even in the center of the frame. We see Jean-Do from the waist-up in a medium shot, greeting a photographer and casually taking in his surroundings while he proceeds to move around the room. The frame quickly ends as others soon replace it – frames of a model upon a platform, photo prints tacked on a wall, and designers adjusting models’ wardrobes. This is the sharpest contrast we have yet seen to Jean-Do’s current condition. The wide frames show us more people, movement and color than we saw in all previous scenes combined. His previous life was based in personal interactions and urgent, tight schedules. The speed of his stride and the seconds between each cut indicates the pace of his former lifestyle. Now I further understand his frustration – he has never sat still in his life. Now time is stretching before him and his eye can only focus on one face at a time.

impressed by The Diving Bell and The Butterfly

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is the story of a man who said his imagination and his memories were the only part of him, besides his left eye, not paralyzed. Jean Dominique Bauby is capable of only blinking one eye after waking from a coma caused by a stroke. With vision that fluctuates between blurry and sharp, I see the faces of doctors and therapists as Jean-Do sees them. The colors are dull and there are a series of extreme close-up shots, when the staff speaks to him or examines him, filling nearly our entire view of the small hospital room. Images of a man stranded within a diving suit and floating in the ocean flicker onto the screen, with Jean-Do’s panicked face visible through the metal helmet and only his strained breathing heard.
When Jean-Do is introduced to a therapist who teaches him to speak with the flutter of his eyelids, indicating a letter by blinking if it is spoken, one of the first sentences he constructs is: “I want death.”
Later, this depression is contrasted by his uplifted spirits evidenced when a young woman named Claude arrives to work with Jean-Do to transcribe the book that he composes and memorizes in his mind. He made a contract to write a book before suffering the stroke and he would like to see it through.
When Claude perches beside his hospital bed with pencil and notebook in hand, the camera pans out into a long shot. We no longer feel confined by the close faces speaking within Jean-Do’s line of vision. Instead, we see the entire room which includes Claude’s full body sitting on a chair, Jean-Do’s outstretched body including his red sweater, and two vases of colorful flowers on the bureau. This is the first bright and visually pleasing scene of the film. Jean-Do finds a release through expression of his feelings and thoughts and by creating metaphors.
It is in Jean-Do’s imagination that we see color and hear excited voices and energetic movement. He remembers skiing down a mountain, visiting cities in Italy, and he envisions kissing Claude. If it wasn’t for these bursts of life and stimulation, the film might be unbearable. Jean-Do’s inner voice often speaks out in protest or answers a doctor’s question, but no one can hear him. One scene is filled with the persistent, piercing screech coming from a television station that has lost a signal. Jean-Do lies unmoving in his bed with only his eye darting around in his head. The room is dark and unmoving. He has no power to stop the noise and no way to escape it. I could barely endure it: My pulse quickened as his wide eye flickered back and forth and the deafening sound continued to buzz.
Whenever it seemed too monotonous or depressing, scenes filled with sunlight and beautiful camera angles lit up the screen.
While I found myself frustrated or even inclined to avert my eyes in scenes when Jean-Do was in the hospital bed, I appreciated their importance and the effort to include me in his personal perspective. Without them, I might look at his face with the same misunderstanding as the electricians who entered his hospital room and laughed at his condition.
The balance established by the interjection of scenes such as a breezy, sunny day at the beach was enough to lift my spirits when Jean-Do felt hopeful. I couldn’t look away as I saw the mother of Jean-Do’s children through his eyes – with her hair flipping from the ocean breeze and their kids running across the sand within view behind her face. The cinematography was enthralling, and I’ve never walked away from a movie with such gratitude for my moving legs.