A Silent Film That Speaks Volumes

The Artist **** (out of ****)

I received good news today.

But I was nervous in the hours preceding the good news – perhaps more nervous than I’ve ever felt before. And when the good news came, I found myself in an emotionally vulnerable state: fragile, elevated, humbled. The moment ached of relief and confusion, yet was visceral and cathartic. I could be joyous now; it was ok. And there was no need to feel guilty for being happy right now. Happiness was warranted.

My mom’s getting better. The battle isn’t over, but we’re winning. She’s winning and getting healthier and stronger it seems with every doctor visit. These appointments used to be dreaded; infused with an innate fear of the unknown. As of late, my mom seems to walk out of them triumphantly. The irony in that stems from her inability to actually walk without aid (she has been wheelchair bound for about half a year due directly to her sickness). But even her physical therapy is proving to be successful: yesterday she was so excited and proud to stand up on her own and show me the baby steps, the literal baby steps, that she was incapable of performing just a month prior. Watching my mom take her first steps on her own was an interesting (albeit strange) feeling. She saw my first steps – and here I was watching her take her first steps for the second time in her life. Do babies know how proud we are of them when they accomplish their first steps on their own? I don’t know. But being able to be proud of yourself for taking your first steps again (and to be conscious of the situation) is something that most of us don’t get the opportunity to experience. Hopefully none of us have to either. But seeing it in my mom was delightfully special. And I’m thankful for it.

It was a good news day. And I was deservedly happy. So much so that I treated myself to a movie. I wanted to celebrate and a matinee felt like the way I wanted to do so. I preface my thoughts on The Artist with good news about my mom because it is very possible my enjoyment of the film sprouted from my vibe going into the theater. I was elated and happy prior to my viewing of The Artist. I was elated and happy after the film as well. Delighted actually. I was smitten and charmed by the rich and energetic performances of Jean Dujardin and Bernice Bejo along with the elegantly simple and beautifully executed story.

There’s a shot early in the film of a 1927 movie audience at the premiere of a George Valentin (Dujardin) release, “A Russian Affair,” simply watching the movie before them. As shot, we see the film too, but by placing the camera in a far balcony, it invites us as real audience members to enjoy the intimate experience right alongside the 1927 audience. I caught myself just simply enjoying “A Russian Affair,” the film within the film. You see, The Artist knows what it is – a silent film made in the 21st century. It has to be aware of its existence, I believe, in order for it to work as well as it does. Michel Hazanavicius directs with wit and an assured confidence in both the straightforward scenes and the surrealist dreamlike scenes that use silence differently. Its post-modern flourishes give the whole film a more ambitious and intelllectual take than most films of the silent era were capable of presenting. The best films of that time were emotionally resonant and viscerally charged (City Lights, The General). The Artist succeeds in capturing our hearts, easily. I knew it would. A movie that loves movies as much as this movie does is sure to win over cinephiles without fail. What I wasn’t expecting was its daring and dynamic filmmaking that had me considering shot composition, sound technique, and film history. It got my film school jones going!

I could talk more of the film’s fine actors (Dujardin is flawless and Bejo makes it incredibly easy to fall in love with Peppy Miller); of its boldly present score by Ludovic Bource; of its shameless love for the art of film itself. But appropriately enough, words just don’t seem sufficient.

I received good news today. I saw a great film. It was a good day.

The Spirited Dark Side of Nosferatu and Beyond the Infinite Echoes

Nosferatu, a symphony of horror.

Netflix has a slew of silent movies made available for free streaming. Among them are two versions of perhaps the greatest horror movie of the silent era, NOSFERATU.

They are actually the same film (albeit with a few edits with titles and lengths) with a different soundtrack: one uses a Dolby Digital score composed and performed by Silent Orchestra with some organ compilations performed by Timothy Howard. This version has the Netflix title of Nosferatu: Original Version (even though the digital print still claims the title card Nosferatu, a symphony of horror.). This is far from the true 1922 original Hans Erdmann score, which was meant to be performed live by an orchestra during projection of the film and has since (and sadly) been lost to time.

The second version has a “gothic-industrial score that intensifies the film’s dark overtones,” as the Netflix blurb reads, and goes by the name Nosferatu: The Gothic Industrial Mix. The score is terribly composed and calls way too much attention to itself. I wanted to laugh at the pub scene’s quote-unquote music, with its, from what I can make out and can only guess is, ritualistic Jaberwocky being mumbled over synthesized 4/4 rhythmic repetitions of elementary ideas of chords and harmonies; however, just when my laughing levee was about to break, the soundtrack literally laughed for me. (No joke.) It literally laughed a Michael Myers tinged maniacal Dr. Evil laugh, complete with drawn out fade.

Do not see this version.

The soundtrack is arranged and mixed by Aleister Einstien from the albums “Vampire Rituals” and “Gothic Vampires from Hell,” whose titles confirm for me what SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE knew all along: that real vampires were actually involved in the making of this film. Another misstep, on top of the completely misguided score, the film itself doesn’t use the original colored tints of the original print and tinkers around with the title cards, specifically in the use of Bram Stoker’s character names. The whole debacle is quite silly and cheapens the film for me.

The whole experience made me wanna grab a vinyl of infinitely better music and have it played over the muted film a la Dark Side of the Rainbow, which I have yet to experience; however a happy accident occurred a few weeks ago when some friends and I happened upon Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl playing over Miyazaki’s animated SPIRITED AWAY on DVD.

"Somewhere over the rainbow..."

That experience was completely unintentional, but fun nevertheless. I’ve also experienced parts of the French documentary MICROCOSMOS on Netflix playing against side 4 of the original Broadway cast vinyl recording of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, which added a seedy, angry, pulsating energy current to some beautifully shot close-up nature cinematography of caterpillars running into one another. Most of these happy accidents seem to occur when I’m writing or when I have peers over for social, casual conversation and audio/visual stimuli hums in the background to relax the present company.

Adversely, I do find experimenting with 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY‘s fourth and final chapter “Jupiter and Beyondthe Infinite” set to another of Pink Floyd’s works, the single “Echoes” from the 1971 album Meddle, to be intriguing. However my intrinsic curiosity probably stems from the fact that I love 2001 and Pink Floyd, and not because there is any real intent for the synchronization. Again, happy accidents. But both pieces are approximately 23 minutes in length; and Pink Floyd’s ethereal, psychedelic ballads with their warm vocals and poetic lyrics would seem, in theory, to nicely compliment the contrast to Kubrick’s emotionally cold, color photography of space and conceptually abstract visuals of life beyond the cosmos. It also piques my interest to wonder how different the film would play if David Gilmour and band mates had said ‘yes’ to Kubrick’s request to compose an original score for 2001. I think having the classical soundtrack of the original film is essential to its status as a masterpiece. However, if Kubrick had indeed commissioned an established music artist of the era to compose a score for his opus, I can think of a no more culturally influential fitting musical act than the band Pink Floyd. If nothing else, at least the idea shows what fabulous taste in music (and keen understanding of how that music can affect the way a film is interpreted by its viewer) Stanley had back in the day.

Got 23 minutes? Sit down and enjoy the ride of "Echoes" and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

All this waxing on about soundtracks and scores and music has me excited about a project I’ve been thinking about for some time now – film festival which projects movies in the public domain accompanied by live musicians playing a new original score. Talking with a few local colleagues about the project has confirmed there is a local interest out there for a few musicians/bands/artists to create. I’ll be doing some research work on this project over the next few weeks. More to come. So please stay tuned.

…and that’s a wrap!

UPDATE: I just finished synching “Echoes” and “Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite;” and I have to say that it was quite worth it for a fan of Pink Floyd and 2001.

A Shot by Any Other Name

Girls in pink and boys in blue - quite a lovely image

Note: The second entry in my “Observations on a Shot” series for TMP covered this shot from 2009′s UP.  You can read the full article by clicking here.

Up was one of my favorite pictures from 2009, so when the chance to write about the film presented itself, I naturally jumped at the opportunity.  I chose the above shot (or more accurately, if strictly sticking to proper film term use, the capture or re-rendering – more on that in a bit.) for a couple of particular reasons.  One, it was readily available on the net as a frame still; so no hardcore searching for a high quality resolution was needed.  There’s nothing more frustrating (other than trying to convince an adult that Justin Bieber is in fact a teenage boy and not a lesbian) than picking a shot from memory and not being able to find or create a good enough reproduction.

A photograph of Justin Bieber (Not a shot, not a still. And not a lesbian.)

Secondly, I knew I wanted to choose a current film that was in color, so as to not limit my analyses to only black and white cinematography from the twentieth century. While I am of the vaguely general belief that black and white movies are more stunning to look at than color ones (I see color in real life; black and white only exists in the abstract.), the point of my column is to shed light on the often overlooked and painstaking craft of cinematic photography (cinematography - Ooh, you see what I did there?) in all varieties of film. (The saying “a picture is worth a thousand words” is true, perhaps even more so, when applied to movie stills.)

Moreover, picking a still from a CG animated movie would further distinguish this selection from my previous entry and subtly hint at my view on the debate over “real” cinematography versus AVATAR (see Jim Emerson’s scanners first post and, I think, his more accessible second post on the subject for a good starting point).  In all honesty, Up has no cinematography – the photographic process that involves capturing light through a lens – in the accurate definition of the word.  The argument stems from the misuse of the word cinematography by the Association of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences and how that misuse over the years (decades, centuries) has led to a broader, more generalized (mis-)understanding of the term.  By giving Avatar eligibility approval (and the ultimate win) in the Best Cinematography category at this year’s Academy Awards, it is clear that AMPAS’ definition of cinematography needs to be more clearly defined.  Or, perhaps even better, eligibility rules need to be modified and new categories need to be introduced in order to make sense outta the mess.  All in all, whoever decides on the “official” definition of terms, needs to look into redefining cinematography (and, as a direct effect, photography) in light of new technology in the modern millennium.

Award winning cinematography - err, visual effects (or is it animation...?) from Avatar

Taking a cue from that issue, the very name of my column (“Observations on a Shot”) needs to be addressed.  A shot in film vernacular, according to Wikipedia, is a continuous strip of motion picture film, created of a series of frames, that runs for an uninterrupted period of time.  A frame is one of the many single photographic images in a motion picture.  So, “Observations on a Frame,” would be correct.  Right?  Not necessarily.

When it comes to animation, frames are referred to as cels.  Cels can then be photographed to produce a still. However, cels are not used in computer animation.  The act of “photographing” a single frame from a computer animation does not produce a cel, but rather a re-rendering of the original rendering from the 3D model.  And when the source material can’t be accessed, an image can be captured from a recording, resulting in – well, a capture.

A tradional hand-drawn cel from Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away

So, for this particular entry from Up, the accurate title would be “Observations on a Re-Rendering,” which doesn’t read or sound as good.  And taking into account all my past and future entries, I would have to call my column “Observations on Either a Shot, Frame, Still, Cel, Rendering, Re-Rendering, or Capture (just depends)” and that just won’t do.

So, for the sake of sanity and time consumption, I’m sticking to Shot.  It gives the series title a bit of a rhyming scheme and flow, plus it simplifies and broadens my material for future use.  And if you’re curious about the actual 1.5 seconds long shot itself, a low quality version can be seen below starting right after 58 seconds in.

…and that’s a wrap!

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Observations on a Shot: CASABLANCA

Pictured from left: Sydney Greenstreet, Paul Henreid, Ingrid Bergman (click picture to enlarge)

The use of shadows intently cast over bodies and faces is a recurring theme in the film CASABLANCA (1942). We see them almost every time Ilsa (Bergman, right) and Lazlo (Henreid, center) are in a scene, portraying their physical trappings inside the city of Vichy controlled Casablanca in French Morocco. In this particular shot, the shadows featured most prominently, perhaps at their most obvious use in the movie, are the cross bars sprawled over the bodies of Ilsa and Lazlo, again indicating imprisonment, literally and, on a deeper level, emotional turmoil. The cross pattern also makes me think of the Christian cross, bringing to mind the symbol of the French Resistance, perhaps implying a higher power looking over them. Perhaps.

Another noteworthy lighting effect is the palms shadows cast on the back of Signor Ferrari (Greenstreet, left). Ferrari is setup earlier in the film as an immigrant willingly integrating himself into a forced society in hopes of successfull financial opportunities, both legal and illegal. This is in contrast to Rick’s (Bogart, not pictured) subtle, almost defiant, integration into Nazi-supported Casablanca; a good man whose seemingly apolitical front is subtly eroded throughout the entire film to reveal early leftist affiliations. In other scenes between Rick and Ferrari, Bogart is almost always wearing a fedora hat in counterpoint to Greentstreet in a North African fez (seen in this shot).

The shadow motif extends also to the costuming, in particular with Ingird Bergman’s Ilsa. The oblique horizontal black stripes of her blouse against her white dress further deepen the theme of confinement and restrained liberty along with the shadow bars previously noted. Bergman’s overly wide brimmed hat, especially in the following scene with Bogart (donning his American Prohibition, Great Depression-era fedora, the stripes of his tie mirroring her blouse) in the street market, hides and reveals her face, taking it alternately in and out of shadow, mostly her eyes – almost always glistening with tears and highlighted with intricate and detailed twinkling light techniques. The costuming technique, also used with Bogart and his fedora, helps to illustrate the inner turmoil and emotional conflict the characters are enduring. In the case of Bergman, however, the technique also was implemented to frame her face, particularly in ebbing down the size of her prominent forehead. In addition to the careful costuming of Bergman, specific lighting was taken into consideration when photographing Bergman. In close-ups, Bergman’s face is lit so that shadows structured her cheek bones and emphasized her left profile (cinematographer Arthur Edeson has stated that Bergman photographed beautifully either in 3/4 quarter or full profile, almost always exclusively with the left side of her face).

Throughout the entire film, Artur Edeson’s use of shadow and light recall his earlier work in the film noir THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), and even bring to mind inspirations such as the work of Willy Hameister in THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI (1920) and other German Expressionist photographers, which brought a particular eclectic taste to his predominantly early Hollywood realist work.

…and that’s a wrap!

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Oscar Nomination Predictions 2010

The time I wish it was.

Imported from my Movie Pool mini-blog, posted February 2, 2007:

My alarm is currently set for 7:20am, 10 minutes before the 82nd Academy Award nominees will be announced live for the best of film in 2009. It is now 3:45am.

What the hell is wrong with me? That is a rhetorical question that you need not answer. But here are my improvised predictions for the morning in 9 of the major categories.

Best Picture
Avatar
An Education
The Hurt Locker
Inglourious Basterds
Invictus
Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire
A Serious Man
Star Trek
Up
Up in the Air

Star Trek (a Producers and Writers Guild recipient) may get bumped for The Blind Side, District 9, or A Single Man.

Best Director
Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker
James Cameron, Avatar
Lee Daniels, Precious
Jason Reitman, Up in the Air
Quentin Tarantino, Inglourious Basterds

Clint Eastwood for Invictus may be a dark horse.

I am skipping over Best Screenplay (Original & Adapted) because the last time I checked, there were a few films that were ineligible (Inglourious Basterds??). Plus, I need to try and get some sleep.

Best Actor
Jeff Bridges, Crazy Heart
George Clooney, Up in the Air
Colin Firth, A Single Man
Morgan Freeman, Invictus
Jeremy Renner, The Hurt Locker

Tobey Maguire (Brothers) is a super dark horse.

Best Actress
Sandra Bullock, The Blind Side
Helen Mirren, The Last Station
Carey Mulligan, An Education
Gabourey Sidibe, Precious
Meryl Streep, Julie & Julia

A possible, but not very likely, chance for Mélanie Laurent (Inglourious Basterds). Emily Blunt (The Young Victoria) will have to wait.

I will also skip the categories for Best Supporting Actor and Actress because we all know that Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds) and Mo’nique (Precious) are going to win.

Best Animated Picture
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
Coraline
Fantastic Mr. Fox
The Princess and the Frog
Up

There’s a chance that Up may get bumped out for its (probable) inclusion in the Best Picture category. If that happens, expect to see Ponyo slide in and take the number 5 slot. How Cloudy got ahead of Ponyo in the awards race is beyond me.

…and that’s a wrap!

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