Sherlock,
Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1924)
IMDB
entry
on Sherlock, Jr.
Why and how is Buster Keaton funny? How does he set up his gags and
jokes? What mechanisms are involved? What uses of time and space? What
does he do with his facial expressions and his body (since most of this
is physical comedy)? Is his comedy primarily a function of editing and
other cinematic tricks performed with the aid of the camera? At what
moments do the gags develop in long takes, with minimal editing and few
obvious interventions by the filmmakers?
How is this a film about the experience of viewing a film? What
differentiates the film-within-the-film (Buster’s dream) from the
surrounding plot? What do the movements between film space and the
space of “real life” tell us about the nature of cinema? What kind of
fantasy of the self is involved in the projection into film pace? How
does the Buster of the film-within-the-film differ from the Buster in
the framing narrative?
Think about the relationship between Sherlock,
Jr. and Duck Amuck.
Although each signals early on that it will construct a fantastic realm
where the many of the rules of the real world don’t apply, do they also
take advantage of our belief in the reality of the filmed image? When
and how?
Remember that this is a silent film. How are action, humor, ideas, and
emotions communicated mostly without the use of words?
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The
Player (Robert Altman, 1992)
IMDB
entry
on The Player
The opening sequence in The Player
consists of an extremely intricate eight-minute tracking shot. What is
the relationship between the form of that beginning (one long take) and
the dialogue that we hear and overhear? How would you describe the
camera work and editing after that opening sequence? Does the film
“settle down” into a more conventional style? How does the formal
structure of The Player
compare to the other films made within it (for example, the Bruce Willis and
Julia Roberts picture)?
In The Player a filmmaker
pitches a grim and tragic story, arguing that cinema should focus on
traumatic events and social injustice because “that’s reality.” What
would the original film have looked like? How does the definition of
“reality” change as both that film and The Player progress?
Robert Altman is often described as a “maverick” filmmaker who operates
on the margins of the mainstream American film industry. Is The Player an insider’s view of
Hollywood? An outsider’s view? How do the cameos by A-list stars affect
your view of the film? Do they contradict or contribute to its critique
of the film business?
What is the slogan of the studio where Griffin Mill works? Beyond its
status as the studio’s motto, how is this line related to Altman’s
commentary on the role of Hollywood in our culture? Why movies? Why now?
Think about The Player in
relation to Sherlock, Jr.
Each film is in part about the fantasies made possible by cinema, and
in Sherlock, Jr. we enter a
dream world by passing through a threshold marked by the screen. How do
we identify the threshold between fantasy and reality in The Player? What are the film’s
fantastic spaces? How are the “happy endings” of The Player and Sherlock, Jr. similar and
different?
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Double
Indemnity
(Billy Wilder, 1944)
IMDB
entry on Double Indemnity
An insurance salesman named Walter Neff happens to come calling at the
Dietrichson house to ensure that their car insurance policy doesn’t
lapse. And after a few minutes of flirtation and some very brief
encounters in the days that follow, Neff and Phyllis Dietrichson plan
to kill her husband and vow to follow through on the plot wherever it
leads them, or as Neff says repeatedly, “straight on down the line.”
The driving force for the narrative appears to be relatively common and
straightforward: it’s another movie about murder for love and money.
But think about the motivations of the main characters. Do they really
seem like they’re in love? Does their somewhat cold relationship make
the story more or less engrossing? Does it make you more or less
interested in following the film “straight on down the line”? Are the
characters so obsessed with money that they’d kill to obtain it? If
not, what other forces or personal traits seem to drive this narrative?
If love and money aren’t an adequate explanation for all that happens,
what else would you add to this equation?
Hollywood studios were often concerned that adaptations of James M.
Cain novels would lead to problems with the Breen Office, the agency
responsible for enforcing a code of “morality” in American movies.
Although it may appear tame by contemporary standards, which elements
of Double Indemnity seem most
likely to provoke the wrath of the censors? The film is full of sexual
banter and it hints at an extramarital affair between Neff and Phyllis
Dietrichson, but which particular phrases and which aspects of their
relationship are especially provocative? Is there anything in the
murder plot that seems to cross that imaginary line between a socially
acceptable representation of a killing and an unacceptable one?
At the time of its release, the film was celebrated for the witty and
edgy dialogue composed by the screenwriters (Billy Wilder and Raymond
Chandler). The screenplay is full of lines like this: “It was a hot
afternoon, and I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along
that street. How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell
like honeysuckle?” Needless to say, most people don’t talk like this in
everyday life. What is the role of this stylized dialogue in the
development of the characters and the creation of an atmosphere in the
film? What does the line about murder and honeysuckle mean? How would
you paraphrase it more directly? What is the difference between the
more straightforward version and the indirect language used in the film?
Like many of the classic noir films (and like The Player and The Usual Suspects), Double Indemnity is set in Los
Angeles. How is the city presented in the film? Are any elements of the
story or are any of personality types particular to southern
California? The popular stereotypes of that region usually focus on the
beach-town sun and perhaps the superficiality. What is the setting like
in Double Indemnity? In what
ways does it contribute to the atmosphere for a film about cold-blooded
murder? Do The Player and The Usual Suspects draw upon this
noir heritage in their own visions of Los Angeles? How?
Think about the last lines delivered by Walter Neff to the other main
characters in the film: “Bye, bye baby” (as he shoots and kills
Phyllis); and “I love you, too” (as Keyes helps a dying Neff light his
cigarette). How would you compare the relationships between Walter and
Phyllis, on the one hand, and Walter and Keyes, on the other? Does
either of the relationships appear to be based on love or respect (or
other positive qualities you consider relevant here)? In Double Indemnity what motivates the
liaisons between men and women? And what is the foundation of the bond
between men?
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The Usual Suspects (Bryan
Singer, 1995)
IMDB
entry
on The Usual Suspects
During the scene that provides biographical information about the young
Keyser Soze and his family, how does Soze appear on the screen? How is
he represented visually? What are the dominant colors, camera angles,
camera movements, and editing patterns? Why portray Soze in this light
at this particular moment in the film? How would you construct a shot
that displayed Keyser Soze at his most diabolical? Does that ever occur
in The Usual Suspects? When
and how?
Keeping in mind the distinction between story and plot, think about the
order in which information is revealed to the viewer in The Usual Suspects. How would a
straightforward, chronological account of the story begin? When and
where does the plot begin? What is the effect of this radical
manipulation of the chronological order of the story?
The Telotte reading for this week refers to The Usual Suspects as an example of
“neo-noir.” How does he define “neo-noir,” and how does character
factor into that definition? What cues early in the film suggest that
we’re in particularly noirish world? Does the ending of the film remain
consistent with what you know about film noir (from the Telotte reading
or elsewhere)? How would you identify the genre of the final few
minutes of the film (after the interrogation)?
If North by Northwest
contains a remarkable number of shots with lines (or roads or train
tracks) receding off into the horizon, is there an equivalent,
consistent visual pattern or motif in The
Usual
Suspects? Are there patterns within individual scenes or
locations (think about the interrogation scenes with Verbal Kint and
Detective Kujan)?
Where does the phrase “the usual suspects” come from? In what world
would these particular suspects be considered usual? How does the film
force us to question what we consider usual, banal, normal, everyday?
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The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)
IMDB
entry on The Searchers
What connotations does the word “classical” bring to mind? Do you think
those same characteristics are also present in “classical” Hollywood
cinema? What about genre films like The
Searchers or Hollywood musicals? What are the advantages and
disadvantages of calling The
Searchers or a spectacular musical a “classical” film?
(“Classical” in this sense would probably be different from the word
“classic” because it would refer to certain formal features of the
film, while statements like “Star Wars
is a classic” are usually evaluations of the film rather than comments
on its form.)
What are the most prominent features of the western as a genre? When
you go to see a western, what expectations do you bring to the theater?
How does The Searchers meet
and/or manipulate those expectations?
In his study of the “American Myth of the Frontier,” Richard Slotkin
argues that the maintenance of borders is one of the most crucial
concerns in stories about the American West. In what ways is The Searchers also a film about
borders? What boundaries are being violated and protected? (Think not
only about boundaries between geographical spaces, but also between
people who represent distinct social and racial groups, between men and
women, and between “civilization” and what lies beyond civilization.)
The landscape has always been an important feature of the western
genre, including the films of John Ford, but also in the work of
directors like Anthony Mann. What role does the landscape play in The Searchers, beyond its obvious
function as the backdrop for the narrative? Do you notice any patterns
in the way the landscape is represented or framed?
List the characteristics of the star persona of John Wayne? Have you
seen a John Wayne film? How would you describe the character types he
often plays? What do you know about him independent of his films? How
does The Searchers make use
of the enormous fame and weighty baggage that John Wayne brings to the
film (he became a western star after Stagecoach
in 1939, and The Searchers was made 17 years later)?
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Written on the Wind (Douglas
Sirk, 1956)
IMDB
entry
on Written on the Wind
Like The Searchers, Written on the Wind is a genre
film, though in this case a melodrama rather than a western. What
characteristics and conventions do we associate with melodrama? How
does the film itself meet or subvert those expectations?
Are the characters and performances in the film “realistic”? Does their
behavior seem to correspond to your own expectation of the ways people
would act under similar circumstances? What elements of the plot and
acting styles distinguish these characters from their counterparts in
the real world? The film is well-known for the performances of the
stars (including Dorothy Malone, who won the Best Supporting Actress
Oscar). Is this acting designed to spark identification with the
characters? Or are we distanced and alienated from them? Why? What
function does either acting strategy serve in this particular film?
Melodrama is often associated with and criticized for its excess: the
characters are too emotional, the plot is too convoluted, etc. Think
about all of the kinds of excess that manifest themselves in this film.
Where in the plot and in the images we see on screen does the film
become excessive, immoderate, operatic?
Think about the relationship between the inner lives of the characters
and the outer expression of those lives through mise-en-scène
(especially color and set design). How do these elements of the image
help visualize the psychological world of these characters?
The roots of the word “melodrama” are the Greek words for music and
performance or action. What role does the musical score play in Written on the Wind? What is the
relationship between music and action in the film?
How is our response to this film affected by the fact that it seems
like a product of a distant time? What do we see that audiences in 1957
might not have seen? Try to imagine which elements of the film are less
apparent to an audience today than at the time of its original release.
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The Battleship Potemkin (Sergei
Eisenstein,
1925)
IMDB
entry
on The Battleship Potemkin
The Battleship Potemkin
is a fictionalized account of a real event that occurred in Russia in
1905. The sailors on a Russian battleship mutinied as a result of
oppressive treatment by their officers, and Tsarist troops were called
in to quell the rebellion. Eisenstein’s film attempts to glorify this
rebellion and imagine it as a precursor of the October Revolution in
1917. How important are Eisenstein’s ideological intentions (in a film
made during the early days of the Soviet Union) to an understanding of
the film now? Have the intervening 80 years of history drained any of
the energy from a film brimming with revolutionary enthusiasm?
Consider the metaphors that were used in our unit on continuity editing
to describe the relationship between shots, the cuts that separate
those shots, and the transitions that link them. Words like “disguise,”
“hide,” “match,” “bridge,” etc., suggest that in classical Hollywood
cinema the editing should be as inconspicuous as possible, even to the
point of creating an illusion that the films contain very little
editing at all. What metaphors would you use to describe the editing
and the relationship between shots in The
Battleship
Potemkin?
Think about the famous scene of the massacre on the Odessa Steps.
Consider the many ways in which Eisenstein orchestrates this scene with
his complex editing. Note the contrast between long shots of the entire
steps, and close-ups of individual people (e.g. the woman with the
pince-nez who is shot in the eye at the end); the alternation between
shots from below (of the citizens racing away in panic) and from above
(of the soldiers in rigid formation descending and firing); the changes
of tempo from frantic movement (at the start of the sequence) to
near-immobility (in the center of the sequence, when the mother
approaches the troops, carrying her wounded son, and the troops halt
for a moment before they again open fire), to frantic movement again
(at the end of the sequence); and the insertion of little dramas within
the larger drama of the massacre (especially with the baby carriage).
Think also of how the sequence juxtaposes shots of longer and shorter
duration, traveling shots and fixed shots, alternating camera angles,
verticals and horizontals, and patterns of light and of dark.
Consider the ways that patterns of montage are used as well to organize
other sections of the film. The film as a whole is very heavily edited;
it contains 1346 shots in a time of 86 minutes (when the film is run at
correct silent speed)—a remarkably high ratio compared to other
narrative films, both then and now. Consider also how Eisenstein uses
montage to expand time and show us the same action from different
viewpoints (both the Odessa Steps massacre and several other sequences
in the film take longer in terms of screen time than they would last in
terms of real time).
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Psycho (1960)
Imdb entry
for Psycho
The credit
sequence for Psycho was
designed by Saul Bass, who also designed the credits for Vertigo and North by Northwest. How do these
darting lines and broken letters introduce us to the major thematic and
narrative elements in the film? The lines then dissolve into a
cityscape, with the place and date identified by titles superimposed
over the city. Why begin this particular story with images of what look
like relatively banal, nondescript, harmless buildings?
For
an unusually long period in the first third of the film, Marion Crane
drives her car along a highway, and the camera concentrates primarily
on her face as the landscape and opposing headlights rush by. In most
films, shots like these serve as filler to demonstrate how a character
traveled from one location to another. If they last longer than a few
seconds, these sequences usually involve some form of dialogue between
characters in the car (as at the beginning of Notorious). But these shots last a
long time and Marion is the sole occupant of the car. What information
is conveyed during these sequences? What do we learn about Marion
during these peculiar shots? Think in particular about the soundtrack.
How does this interior monologue help link her to (or distinguish her
from) other characters in the film? What do they have (or not have) in
common?
Think
about the sequence when the police officer approaches Marion’s car
after she parks along the highway to rest. Is there anything remarkable
about the way the highway patrolman is presented to us? Is this image
of a man gazing at Marion echoed elsewhere in the film?
How
is the office at the Bates Motel decorated? Beyond its obvious
importance to the narrative, what is the significance of Norman’s
fascination with taxidermy and birds? What other habits or nervous
ticks did you notice in the character of Norman Bates? What is their
significance?
How
would you describe the first interaction between Norman and Marion? On
one level she seems to pity Norman because of his isolation and his
domineering “mother.” But this conversation also convinces her to
return the money and attempt to right any past wrongs. What about this
conversation with Norman has such an impact on Marion? What is the
source of their sympathy and understanding? Are we given any indication
that these otherwise very different characters might have some things
in common?
If
you’ve just seen the famous shower sequence for the first time, how
would you describe it? Was it shocking? Why or why not? How would you
describe the editing in that scene? And the music? How do the editing
and music contribute to the sense of terror and disorientation in that
sequence?
Norman
Bates is one of the most unforgettable characters in the history of
cinema, and the career of Anthony Perkins was largely defined by this
role. At the time when Psycho
was produced, however, he was considered a handsome heartthrob and best
known for playing wholesome young men in mainstream pictures. Janet
Leigh was also an important Hollywood actress, and she received top
billing in Psycho. What
expectations do you have when you see a film featuring major stars of
that magnitude? Do you know of any other movies that kill off a major
star halfway through? Why is that so rare? What are the implications of
this decision to do away prematurely with the most famous and most
bankable star in the film?
Just
before the murder of Arbogast and at a couple of additional moments
Hitchcock returns to his favored high angle shots, but in Psycho the shift in angle is abrupt
and jarring and seemingly unmotivated. There are obvious reasons for
this choice of camera angles (Hitchcock didn’t want the audience to get
a good look and say “that’s not Mrs. Bates with the knife, it’s…”), but
given the director’s fascination with that particular shot, it’s worth
thinking about its significance here. Whose perspective (if anyone’s)
are we shown in those shots? What does that choice of shots have to do
with the other remarkable stylistic features of the film, especially
the images of people staring voyeuristically at others, the interior
monologues and voice-offs, and the horrific violence at the very heart
of the film?
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Do the Right Thing (Spike
Lee, 1989)
IMDB
entry
on Do the Right Thing
What points of view are established in the film? Do we see the events
from a single, privileged perspective? Or is the POV dispersed among a
number of characters? What cinematic techniques establish POV in the
film? Are particular camera movements associated with particular
characters or conflicts? Which ones? What is the function of the many
peripheral characters (e.g., the three men against the red wall or
people who gather around Buggin’ Out)?
Bordwell and Thompson define mise-en-scene as “all of the elements
placed in front of the camera to be photographed: the settings and
props, lighting, costumes and makeup, and figure behavior.” Taking each
of these elements in order, think about the relationship between each
of these and the main concerns of the narrative. How, for example, does
the setting in all of its details (the graffiti, the chalk drawing on
the street, the red bricks and walls, the stoops where people sit and
comment on the people walking by, the public spaces where people
gather) frame the events that take place in Do the Right Thing? How do the
costumes help construct characters or character types? How do character
gestures and movements also help construct them as people and as
representatives of larger types and social groups?
Think about the number of scenes in which a character appears to be
speaking directly to the camera (especially the sequence that Spike Lee
calls the “racial slur montage”). What effect does this strategy have
on you as a viewer? Does it disrupt the appearance of “reality” in the
film and distance us from the world presented on the screen? Or does it
draw us into the world of the film? How? Does the film address all
spectators in the same way? How does this direct address to the viewer
relate to the elements of mise-en-scene—for example, the bright colors
and exaggerated costumes and gestures—mentioned above?
What is the “right thing” in this film? Does the film ever identify a
single, correct course of action? How does the photograph of Martin
Luther King and Malcolm X relate to this overarching concern with
taking action but doing it right?
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In the Mood for Love (Wong
Kar-Wai, 2000)
How would you characterize Wong Kar-Wai’s style of
camerawork and
editing? What are the signature visual effects of In the Mood for Love? What is the
connection between those stylistic flourishes and the various narrative
lines? What devices does Wong use to signal that he’s manipulating time
and space as the plot unfolds? Think about the shots in which part (or,
at times, most) of the frame is blocked by something dark or
out-of-focus and the action appears only in a keyhole-like portion of
the image. How is that strategy of framing and image composition
related to the narrative?
If classical Hollywood cinema usually conceals the editing and other
strategies used to construct the film, how does In the Mood for Love relate to that
tradition? Are there any shots in the film that appear to be the
product of the editing room and effects studio? How do these extremely
stylized moments affect your experience of the film? Do they make it
look artificial and unbelievable? Or do they draw you into the story
despite the fact that they draw attention to the filmmaking style? Why
and how?
How does the film integrate the soundtrack, especially the songs of Nat
King Cole, and the visual images? The Fred Ward character (the head of
studio security) in The Player
criticizes almost all contemporary movies (and possibly even every film
since Touch of Evil) because he thinks they imitate the fast-paced
“cut, cut, cut” style of MTV videos. In
the
Mood for Love features songs very prominently from beginning
to end, and the images often appear to follow the cues and pacing of
the music. But is this MTV cinema? Or is there a different relationship
between the visual register of the film and the soundtrack?
Most of the film was shot in Bangkok because that city’s architecture
and physical environment were considered closer to the appearance of
Hong Kong in the 1960s than the skyscraper-filled cityscape of
contemporary Hong Kong. This suggests that the filmmakers took some
extraordinary steps to evoke a particular time and place. With that in
mind, does In the Mood for Love
seem like a historical film whose primary purpose is representing the
past with a high degree of accuracy? Does the filmmaking style help or
hinder that attempt to represent the past? If history isn’t the main
concern of the filmmakers, what is? And how does the historical setting
help or hinder the filmmakers in that project?
Wong Kar-Wai is one of the best-known directors in the world, and he is
famous as both a stylistic innovator and an example of the vitality of
cinema from Hong Kong. In other words, he is understood as both an
individual artist and as the product of one of the world’s largest film
industries. What qualities do you associate with cinema from Hong Kong
(based on both your viewing experience and the way films, directors,
and actors from Hong Kong are marketed)? Is In the Mood for Love consistent
with those expectations? In what ways does the film play with and
violate those expectations?
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The Conversation (Francis
Ford Coppola, 1974)
IMDB
entry
on The Conversation
Consider the language we use in everyday speech to convey certainty or
uncertainty. Do metaphors borrowed from sight (“I see that you missed
the screening”) express more confidence than metaphors drawn from sound
(“I heard that you missed the screening”)? Or vice versa? Do you
usually value or trust information gathered through sight more than
sound? Or vice versa? How do films use and manipulate your trust in
images or sounds (think of The Usual
Suspects)?
Think about the relationship between sound and image in The Conversation, especially in the
many times we see and hear the opening sequence from Union Square in
San Francisco. How does our access to the details of that initial
conversation change as the film progresses? Do we see more or less as
the film unfolds? Do we hear more or less? What has prevented us from
seeing or hearing everything from the very beginning? Does the film
prioritize either visual or aural information, and does that priority
change as the film progresses?
A film that pays this much attention to sound can be boring for
audiences used to more spectacular visuals. How does the Coppola avoid
(or attempt to avoid) this pitfall? How does the film visualize the
moments when we and Harry Caul are concentrating on sound?
The Conversation
was released during a period when conspiracy films became a popular
sub-genre of American cinema. Who controls the conspiracy at the end of
the film? In a film so concerned with the links and gaps between image
and sound, with what we can learn and believe in based on either our
eyes or our ears, how is that meditation on images and film sound
related to the conspiracy plot? Does either one provide more access to
the truth in The Conversation?
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The Rules of the Game (Jean
Renoir, 1939)
IMDB
entry on The Rules of the Game
World War II had already erupted in Europe when The Rules of the Game was released
in France. Jean Renoir later characterized the film as a warning that
his society was “dancing on a volcano.” The film was unpopular with its
first Parisian audiences, who hissed and threw objects at the screen.
Viewed as demoralizing during these difficult times, the film was
severely edited before being banned by the French government. One year
later the German army invaded France, and the Nazis also banned the
film and burned many of the original prints. The negatives were
accidentally destroyed in a bombing raid. The Rules of the Game was
considered lost until the late 1950s, when the film was reconstructed
from the prints that survived in various locations throughout the
country.
How does this historical context—the decay of the old aristocratic
order in Europe, the threat and seemingly inevitable onset of
violence—appear in the film? What devices does Renoir use to introduce
history and social criticism to a film whose plots is closer to a sex
comedy than a documentary? How are these sexual relationships and
affairs related to the fate of the European upper class just at the
beginning of World War II? What conflicts and weaknesses are on display
in these relationships? What other scenes appear to foreshadow the
coming war?
Renoir’s filmmaking is often characterized by elegant tracking shots
and long takes that stage action in depth. Think about the many shots
that involve mobile framing and the scenes that unfold in long takes.
What is the relationship between this style of filmmaking and the
narrative about the interaction between people of different social
classes, nationalities, and ethnicities? Between the style and the
looming threat of war? Which scenes do not reflect this general
preference for long takes and deep-focus photography? How would you
describe the editing and camerawork in the hunting scene? Does it seem
like a continuation of the rest of the film or a conspicuous change in
the style? Why shoot and edit that particular scene in that way?
Because of the film’s social criticism and its use of long takes, the
film is often described as “realist” (in the sense that it tackles
important political issues and in the more formal sense that there
seems to be less manipulation in the virtually unedited scenes where
the camera just rolls and records the action taking place in front of
it). But the film also contains a number of scenes that involve some
kind of theatrical staging. What is the relationship between these
theatrical moments and the film’s “realism”? How does the interaction
of the characters in these performances connect to the film’s social
critique?
Who is the central character in the film? Does The Rules of the Game have a
traditional protagonist for the audience to focus on? If not, what
replaces this focus on a particular individual?
Octave (played by Jean Renoir) says “the
awful thing about life is
that everyone has his reasons,” and this is often considered a kind of
motto or philosophy for Renoir. What does this phrase mean to you, and
what does it mean in the historical and social context represented in
the film?
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Citizen Kane (Orson
Welles, 1941)
IMDB
entry
on Citizen Kane
Consider the film’s complex narrative structure: it consists of a
series of intricate flashbacks, sometimes out of a straight
chronological story order; and those flashbacks revolve around
contradictory memories of Charles Foster Kane from the perspectives of
family, friends, acquaintances, and the media. The film is piecing
together the life of Kane from a number of different points of view.
How does the film tie these disparate perspectives together? How do the
images visualize the fact that we are always seeing Kane’s life through
the lens of another person’s memory? Think of particular shots or
editing strategies that convey the sense that Kane’s story is being
filtered through the perspectives of these other characters.
Consider the film’s style. How does the camera move in this film? From
what angles does it look at the action? What striking visual
compositions do you notice? Is there a pattern in this virtuoso camera
work? What is noteworthy in the ways Welles uses light and shadow? What
about the role of editing? How often does Welles use rapid cuts, and
how often does he convey a scene in one or several long takes? And what
about his use of overlapping bits of sound?
Citizen Kane is
often cited as a breakthrough in the use of deep-focus photography.
Does Welles use that deep space in the same way as Renoir in The Rules of the Game? Does he
stage action in depth like Renoir? Does he do so as often as Renoir? Or
does he adopt a wider variety of aesthetic strategies?
Kane makes a fortune from his media empire (much like the inspiration
for Kane, William Randolph Hearst), and the film therefore has a lot to
say about the media business. What do we learn about the media through Citizen Kane? Do those lessons also
apply to cinema?
What is Rosebud? How important is it to know this?
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Documentaries
IMDB
entry
on The River
IMDB
entry
on Night and Fog
IMDB
entry
on The Thin Blue Line
In 1948 the World Union of Documentary defined documentary filmmaking
as “all methods of recording on celluloid any aspect of reality
interpreted either by factual shooting or by sincere and justifiable
reconstruction, so as to appeal either to reason or emotion, for the
purpose of stimulating the desire for, and the widening of human
knowledge and understanding, and of truthfully posing problems and
their solutions in the spheres of economics, culture, and human
relations.” Consider all the terms of art in this definition—“reality,”
“sincere and justifiable,” “truthfully”—and think about the ways the
documentaries screened in class establish their connection to the real,
their sincerity, their value as representations of the truth. What
strategies do the films use to establish their authority? What
rhetorical strategies are used to convince the viewer that the world
appearing in the documentary is somehow different from the world of
fiction films, that it is not “unreal,” “insincere,” or “untruthful”?
What role does non-diegetic material (title, intertitles, voice-over
narration, etc.) play in distinguishing the film from fiction?
Pare Lorentz described his first documentary—The Plow that Broke the Plains, an
account of the Dust Bowl and government attempts to aid people uprooted
from their farms on the Great Plains—as a “melodrama of nature.” What
elements that we usually associated with fiction and genre films also
appear in the documentaries screened in class? Do moments of melodrama
appear in these otherwise realistic accounts?
Does any of the documentaries seem like propaganda? At what point in
the film and why? What causes a film to tip from “realistic,”
“sincere,” and “truthful” to manipulative and propagandistic? If
propaganda is usually produced for a wide audience in order to advance
a particular agenda, can you identify the agenda of the filmmakers of
the documentaries screened in class? Would it be possible to make any
of the films without including some moments of propaganda?
Films like The Thin Blue Line
(and to some extent Night and Fog)
are
aware of the sometimes troubled history of documentary filmmaking
and avoid many of the conventions of the documentary. What elements of
traditional documentary practice do these films reject? How do they
anticipate and manipulate our beliefs in the reality, sincerity, and
truthfulness of documentary films?
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Experimental Film
The title for this week’s class on experimental cinema is “the limits
of film,” and each of the short films on the syllabus begins to test
the boundaries of cinema. And each of the films poses very basic
question about the nature of cinema. During the week on Eisenstein, we
considered a fundamental question that is rarely asked in mainstream
commercial film: what is the basic unit of cinema? Narrative film is
usually constructed around dramatic units like the scene, while
Eisenstein argued that the shot was the essential “cell” that a
filmmaker used to construct a montage sequence. While watching the
films in this section of the class, think about the basic units of
cinema that are being used and explored. Are these films structured
according to a dramatic or narrative logic? If not, what kind of logic
(if any) does it follow? What are the building blocks that the
filmmaker uses to construct the film? Does the filmmaker begin by
looking at film as a medium for recording what happens in front of the
camera? Or does he or she see film as a strip of celluloid? Or as a
rectangular frame?
What analogies do the filmmakers draw between film and the other arts?
Do they treat the frame like a painter treats a canvas? Does the
editing attempt to orchestrate the shots like musical instruments? Is
the material of film (the celluloid and the silver) handled, molded,
and “chiseled” like the raw materials of a sculpture?
Many of these films come from a “golden age” of avant-garde film in the
1920s. Do these films seem dated now? Does an avant-garde maintain its
position at the vanguard over time? Can its shocks be repeated
indefinitely? Or have the strategies used by these films been
appropriated by more mainstream media over the intervening decades?
What do you consider avant-garde in today’s media environment?
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Spirited Away (Hayao
Miyazaki, 2001)
IMDB
entry on Spirited Away
In a completely animated film like Spirited
Away, the images are made without photography and without real
people and places in front of a camera. What are the strengths and
limitations of a film that presents an entirely artificial world?
Imagine a live-action version of Spirited
Away. What would that film be missing that the animation makes
possible? If you’ve seen any recent live-action fantasy films (e.g.,
the Harry Potter series), think about the relationship between
Miyazaki’s mode of filmmaking and the computer-generated images in so
many contemporary films. What are the differences between a film in
which characters played by human actors inhabit a magical space and a
film where everything is animated from the beginning?
Miyazaki is one of the best-known animated film directors, and Spirited Away was the most
successful film ever at the Japanese box office before achieving a
similar level of success overseas. What are the key elements of this
film’s popularity? How crucial is animation to that formula? The film
was released in the United States by Disney. Are there any key
differences between Disney and Miyazaki in their approaches to
animation? Or Pixar?
Miyazaki has made a number of films with an overt social message, often
related to environmental destruction. Is there a clear social critique
in the film? What is the content of that political message? Does the
fact that the film is animated contribute to or hinder that critique?
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jtweedie@u.washington.edu
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