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.