Lists and Lot’s Wife

by Austin Flones

Hey folks, its been almost a year since you’ve had to endure one of my long stream of conscience diatribes so here’s one that is two fold:

LISTS

People love lists. It’s something that’s struck my curiosity for some time and still makes me wonder: why? I love lists. Other writer’s on this site love lists. Zillions of other media critics, food critics, non-critics all love lists. Lists, in my estimation, allow us to take the chaotic strands of information that make up our world  (strands that constantly bombard our senses, each battling persistently to take the forefront of our attention) and give us the He-Man like power to organize and then assess each chaotic strand of information in order to clean our proverbial closet – admiring, loving and keeping those things that suit us and flushing, discarding and spewing bitter malice towards those that don’t. Lists also make us feel better about our choices and help to facilitate our oh so precious time. Take a grocery list for example- if you plan ahead and make the list in advance the amount of time wasted at the grocery store (when you could be poning nubes on your XBOX, or rereading Dostoyevsky) is significantly reduced and it feels great when all list items are checked off upon reaching the checkout stand. When it comes to movies lists the idea is the same, but in a more backtrack justification sort of way. Any hardcore movie addict will consider or at least profess to consider that watching a piss poor movie is never a waste of time. We’ll say, “oh, it’s good every once in a while to watch crap cause it makes you appreciate good movies even more”, or “You can always take away something from any movie, even if it’s what NOT to do when making a movie”, or the always popular, “this movie is so bad it’s funny- join me friends in laughter and mockery.” And while that all may be true and/or fun on some level, reality stills waits outside the door, tirelessly knocking while yelling “Hey! Yeah you, I know you’re in there damn it. You’ve been spending a lot of away from me off on those little movie escapades. and let me tell you- it better worth both of our whiles cause I ain’t got all day and neither do you.” Like Ben Stiller‘s directorial debut so candidly informs reality does in fact bite.

So, with the real world ever on our asses making sure we know that we don’t have that much time on this earth and that we better damn well be putting it to good use, we take an assessment of every movie we’ve been spending our precious moments (natch) viewing and start putting each film through the winnower to separate the grain from the chaff. At the end of this process, with our heads and spirits lifted high we emerge justified. Justified, because we have in our possession something of incalculable worth.  An Excalibur with which we can battle our own inner demons of time management so as to not feel like we’ve wasted countless hours on endeavors that are anything less than of an aesthetically, emotionally and entertainingly purposeful criterion (natch). Yes ladies and gentlemen, we have a LIST. With this list you’ve accomplished something. You’ve scoured through dirt and rock to find those few nuggets of gold. With a list you’ve braved new frontiers and now have a map to guide others (with not as much time on their hands for, in this case, cinematic exploits) towards the valleys of green and away from the pits of cocoon always lurking about (with their nasty added CGI tentacles and beaks). Ah, yes. A person with a list – and not just any list but a well-rounded, I’ve watched enough stuff to make an intelligent assessment, sort of list- is a fulfilled person indeed.

In simpler terms, a list is a nice, organized way to reward, categorize and make sense of all that we’ve experienced and subjected ourselves to within a certain frame of time. In this case the movies we’ve all watched and admired this last year. Enough with the over analysis, bring on the Best Of lists for 2011!

LOT’S WIFE or a brief reflection on nostalgia and the films that have dealt with it in 2011.

I’ve spent the last moth playing catch up on all the best, hottest and yes, slapped in the face by the Oscars, movies of this past year and a common theme,  2011′s zeitgeist it would appear, seems to be nostalgia. Here’s a quick list (and I’m sure I’m missing some): Midnight in Paris, My Week with Marilyn, The Artist, Hugo, Super 8, Take Me Home Tonight, The Muppets, The Tree of Life. I haven’t compared the list to past year’s crops of films, but each of  these movies in at least some capacity is either thematically driven by nostalgia or nostalgia was used as the hook to get people to see it. I think this whole concept stood out to me because quite a few of the front-runners of the Oscar noms deal heavily with nostalgia.

Now, I loathe the idea of movies about Hollywood or the filmmaking process because quite frankly there is a whole, wide, huge, awesome, colorful, creative and bizarre world outside the walls of LA County. But, because you should “write watcha know,” Hollywood screenwriters inevitably churn out  a slew of movies about movies every year. I say I loathe the idea because in reality I tend to end up liking quite a few of these movies regardless of my convictions about them because let’s face it, I love everything about movies.  This year’s crop of movies about movies actually turned out to be something special. Hugo, The Artist and My Week With Marilyn come to mind all being quite moving, nostalgic portraits of a the bygone eras of cinema when everything seemed rosier then the present. Interestingly enough, although steeped in the world of nostalgia, they all also deal with the turmoil of the future, of change which is always looming over the good times of the past.

Scorsese's Hugo takes a nostalgic look at the films of dream-maker Georges Méliès

Woody Allen takes the issue of nostalgia head on in Midnight in Paris and actually calls it out on its shit which I really dug. I liked the idea kicking nostalgia’s ass a little bit only because it’s something that I absolutely love and it absorbs a great deal of my time thoughts and energy away from the present and the possibilities of the future. A quote I’ve come to appreciate from Melville is as follows:

“The Past is, in many things, the foe of mankind; the Future is, in all things, our friend. In the Past is no hope; the Future is both hope and fruition. The Past is the text-book of tyrants; the Future the Bible of the Free. Those who are solely governed by the Past stand like Lot’s wife, crystallized in the act of looking backwards, and forever incapable of looking before.” 

Yay Midnight in Paris.

Woody Allen works out his own proclivities towards and cautions of nostalgia in Midnight in Paris

So, we’ve had self-indulgent movies of cinematic nostalgia, we’ve had a movie that simultaneously delights in and scolds nostalgia and then there’s Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life. Some call it a prayer-like, some call poem-like, some call it egotistical, some call it a masterpiece and some people just call it boring. Whatever your reaction to the masterpiece (oops) may be, two thing are abundantly clear. It’s completely personal and totally nostalgic- like creation of the universe nostalgic (talk about yearning for the past, geez Malick). But the thing that makes The Tree of Life different is that, while it offers nostalgic scenes from the past, it really puts them all in the perspective of time: past, present and future. It offers a natural and generational look at the past and how it affects future generations as well as our natural world around us. Malick’s backwards lenses may have been rosy on the edges, but their hindsight is certainly 20/20. The Tree of Life doesn’t revel in its nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. Rather it is a tool masterfully placed within the larger context of Malick’s overall vision for his  prayer-like, poem-like, masterpiece of a film.

Terrence Malick's Tree of Life contextualizes nostalgia by weaving his own personal memories into the timeline of the universe

What more is there to say, I guess 2011 may be the year of nostalgia for American cinema. It’s certainly been fun to take a look back with some of these movies but here’s hoping next year turns our attention away from the glamours of the past and towards the vitality of the present and the hope of the future.

1. http://www.milehighcinema.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/hugo-paramount-pictures04.jpg

2. http://buquad.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/211.jpg

3.http://pykorry.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Tree-of-Life.jpg

BEST IN GENRE (Sports): The Very Definition of Geek

by Austin Flones

Ah…the sports film. For me, talkin’ sports hits very close to home, conjuring up so many different thoughts and feelings about the subject that hopefully I can manage to put them concisely into one article, where the primary function is to introduce what is the next portion of our Best of Genre series. Before speaking directly about the genre of Sports Films however, allow me the liberty of a taking a detour of long and epic proportions.

For a person who is primarily a geek, I had an extremely sports-heavy childhood. Before I was born, my father played pro-football for the Seattle Seahawks, when I was born my first word was “bahebal” in reference to the shiny moon above (basketball). Every day from middle-school through high-school I wouldn’t get home till 5:30 or later because of sports practice, whether it be baseball, basketball, football or track & field. With all that, how I found time to memorize the Star Wars movies and see every Bond film at least three times each is beyond me. All this sporty fun was self-induced so, no, I wasn’t forced to be an athletic child prodigy or anything like that, but with all my involvement I sure got a taste for vicarious fathers who did burn the fun out of sports for many of my peers (it’s sad that this kind of thing is common enough to have become a familiar stereotype in our culture for sometime now). Anyways, as an athletic geek, I was inclined to connect with sports films as a young lad, and there were many. From kid’s films like Rookie of the Year and The Sandlot to more dramatic ones like Chariots of Fire, sports films were something that I could relate to at that age because sports were something I was familiar with.

I am very disconnected from that now. In fact, the original incarnation of this article was more geared towards how ridiculous it is that American culture is not content with just watching and sometimes playing its favorite athletic spectacles, but comes in droves to the theaters to then spectate a spectacle about other spectacles (no…not glasses). In simpler terms, we’re not content to just watch sports themselves, we then have to watch movies about those sports. It’s pretty ridiculous if you think about it…and they call us (the movie junkie collective) geeks? But before my cynicism could hit the page, I was struck by a thought…well, a few thoughts actually.

First is that, for a long time, geeks have been isolated and mocked by the rest of society. Now when I say geek, it wouldn’t be unnatural for your brain to conjure up an image of some frizzy haired Trekkie (I’m sorry TrekkER) who lives in his momma’s basement playing D&D whilst eating tater-tots and dreaming of the day he’ll have an elf princess of his very own when he hasn’t even smelled a woman his age since high school. Okay sure, that’s one example of a geek, but let’s see what my computer dictionary has to say on the subject.

geek |gēk|noun informal

1 an unfashionable or socially inept person.• [with adj. ] a person with an eccentric devotion to a particular interest : a computer geek.

2 a carnival performer who does wild or disgusting acts.

Okay, so besides the fact that definition 2 is awesome and clearly the superior explanation of the word, I’ll take the computer’s word that the primary definition of geek is a  a person with an eccentric devotion to a particular interest : a computer geek. Wait! Hold on for just a hot minute. What if I…(sneaky grin)…yeah, what if I change that definition just a hair…there we go:

person with an eccentric devotion to a particular interest : a sports fan.

Definition still work? That’s right, folks: fanatics of sports are really no different than fans of Spiderman, Battlestar Galactica, cinema, literature or (I would even argue) politics. Now I am by no means a doctor, but after all it has become quite fashionable in our society to talk about crap about things we know nothing about, so I really do feel justified in saying that I wouldn’t be surprised if the same parts of the brain were stimulated when “geeking out” about any one of these areas of interest. I guess what I am trying to say here is that we are ALL geeks for something, sports have just become the socially acceptable form of exercising our brain’s geek muscles so that when you’re a geek for anything else you are viewed as the first part of that dictionary definition: an unfashionable or socially inept person. Now, of course, in writing this geek manifesto, the fact is that the tides have turned in the favor of the outsider geeks quite significantly in the past decade, to where it’s almost socially normal and acceptable to be a geek for things like fantasy, sci-fi, comics, etc. Even though it’s now not uncool to be a geek of pop-culture, sports still reign supreme in our culture (and really every other culture around the world except theirs is just for one sport: soccer…unless you’re Canada, then it’s hockey).

The second thing that struck me as I was about to deride sports movies for being ultra-indulgent was the thought of why sports films continue to work for audiences year in and year out. Let’s face it — sports flicks kill at awards shows: Rocky, Million Dollar Baby, the nominated (/should have won) Raging Bull, the new to the club The Fighter…okay, basically boxing movies kill at the Oscars. Do they really have to release another one? Hell yeah! Because at some basic level, boxing flicks hit a nerve with an audience and will continue to do so. If you think about it, they are naturally endowed with everything a great story should have. The protagonist has clear goal and strong motivation for reaching that goal while the antagonist, either internal or external, is clearly opposed to it. With the hero’s path to glory clearly set and its obstacles clearly defined, filmmakers are then able to explore an entire array of human emotion, tribulation and triumph on a raw and basic level that we all can connect with. Even if you’ve never played a sport in your life, the adversity that athletes endure and sometimes overcome is palpable and visceral, resonating with people of all ages and interests, connecting with everyone who has ever trained, tried, failed and stood up again for more.

Excessive, over-indulgent, inspiring, sobering, uplifting, and ultimately geeky, here are my top ten picks for America’s second favorite pastime — the sports film:

#10 — Cool Runnings (1993)

A classic fish-out-of-water tale and loosely based on a true story, Cool Runnings is a hilarious retelling of the first Jamaican bobsled team to enter the Winter Olympics. John Candy leads the films as a washed up ex-Olympian turned bookie who is cajoled by four talented Jamaican athletes into coaching them in bobsledding. An inspiring sports film and a wacky comedy, Cool Runnings takes the number ten slot because it is not only an unconventional sport to cover in a film, but also manages to Jamaica me laugh every time.

#9 — Angels in the Outfield (1994)

My earliest memory of going to a drive-in movie theatre (a place I happily was employed at later on), this film holds a special place in my heart. Sentimentality aside, this film boasts a great cast (most of them new to the game at the time) including Adrien Brody, Matthew McConaughey and that’s right ladies and germs, one Joseph Gordon-Levitt. This is definitely a family film about family and offers a grand slam of sports thrills, humor and that oh so classic Disney message of the what incredible things can happen if we just believe. 

#8 — Whip It (2009)

I liked this film, a lot. Drew Barrymore’s directorial debut mixes the suburban sensibilities of a Kevin Smith/Richard Linklater film, the teenage drama of John Hughes movie and the fast-paced racing action of the X-Games. The names of the roller derby gals alone are enough to cheer for: Eva Destruction, Iron Maven, Smashley Simpson, Rosa Sparks. Awesome. If you’re looking for a rollicking-good alternative to the traditional sports film, Whip It is the one for you.

#7 — Raging Bull (1980)

Marty Scorsese and his pal Bob DeNiro deliver a brutal, dark knock-out in the masterpiece that is Raging Bull. Much has been written about this brooding boxing epic that is all at once minimal and introspective while at the same time being grandiose and spectacular, so I’ll keep it to one thought. Michael Chapman’s photography is gorgeous. His photography is both atmospheric and organic, capturing equally the grace and the grit that permeate the boxer’s life both in and outside the ring.

#6 — The Sandlot (1993)

One of, if not the most beloved and quotable kid’s films of the 90′s, The Sandlot was and is an instant classic that makes you immediately want to get up, slap on a leather glove and go play with your old pals. A dusty neighborhood diamond, a legendary monstrous dog, the beautiful lifeguard Wendy Peffercorn (played by a young, talented Marley Shelton), a Babe Ruth signed baseball and the incredible PF Flyers, the legacy of The Sandlot has remained intact for the past two decades and will continue to warm the hearts of sports fans and nostalgics from now until FOOOORRR-EEEVVVV-EEEERRR….

#5 — The Wrestler (2008)

Okay, so professional wrestling is arguably not a sport. It’s really more about putting on a great show. But then isn’t that a big part of all pro sports these days? Putting asses in seats is the primary goal because there is money to be made, and money that needs to be made to keep the whole damn machine running. So, if Darren Aronofsky’s powerful and heart-wrenching drama about a washed-up entertainer qualifies then it immediately begs the question, “then isn’t also the Aronosky’s other masterpiece about performing, Black Swan, really a sports film as well?” I mean, although ballet is really a high-form performance art, it’s also very much a sport. The rigorous atheletic training, the drive and discipline required for perfection and success. I almost counted Black Swan as one of my favorite sports films, but appealed to more conventional heads and decided to leave that for a different top ten. Anyways, I loved the hell out of The Wrestler, especially because of its awesome 80′s hair metal soundtrack.

#4 — Chariots of Fire (1981)

The older I get, the less boring this movie gets and the more inspirational it becomes. Based on the true story of preacher/ Olympic champion Eric Liddell, Chariots of Fire is a testament to the greatness that can be achieved when we stick to our principals to the very last. As as an ex-sprinter, I have come to understand that the most badass part of this movie is that Eric Liddell forgoes his spot in the 100m dash for the freaking 400m — the toughest race a runner can run, and one that Liddell didn’t even specifically train for — and destroys it, earning himself a gold medal. Such a beautiful cinematic and sports moment.

#3 — Any Given Sunday (1999)

The opening of this film blew my mind. At first I thought some crack cocaine was accidentally sprinkled on my frosted flakes (okay, okay, it wasn’t an accident) but then I quickly realized that in fact, no, I wasn’t rolling on yay but rather experiencing for the first time the full-force of the greatest football movie ever made, Oliver Stone’s Any Given Sunday. For me to claim this is the best of all the football movies ever made, we’re talking better than Brian’s Song, Rudy, Remember the Titans…Gridiron Gang…well let’s just say it’s a pretty big deal (that is to say most of my football buddies from high school would strongly disagree). This is because Any Given Sunday is not like other football movies. It’s not feel good, it’s not really unifying and while it has some elements of the great underdog story that other football films always have, it’s not really about that either. The reason the opening scene of this film blew me away is because it was all about the business of the sport, which is really what the movie is all about. In the first scene, the Miami Sharks are just trying to play one offensive down, and what amazed me is how the hell they ever pulled it off with all of the craziness surrounding them. You kind of get a glimpse of it when watching the NFL, the barrage of people on the sidelines that aren’t in uniform, and you might have a slight musing of “why are they there?” before getting focused on the game again by an awesome QB sack. This movie shows who those random people are, what they are doing and how their jobs all narrow down to and depend on that next down on the field. The way Stone shows this pressure is so intense and real, you feel like you’re going to be crushed by it within the first few minutes of the film. This film tackles a very big part of the sports world that few other films have ever even managed to touch upon.

#2 — Hoop Dreams (1994)

Sacrificing five years of their own lives to document those of other, filmmakers Steve James and Frederick Marx followed around teenagers William Gates and Arthur Agee at the beginning of their high school careers through the first year of college as they pursued their only ticket out of the hard knocks of inner city Chicago: basketball. Delving deep into the boys’ lives, this documentary gets really personal and nitty-gritty as it takes the audience and slowly (yes, it’s a long movie) intertwines the lives of William and Arthur with our own. In middle of all this, we not only get a moving story of the pursuit of the boys’ dreams but also a hard look at the way sports and the success it offers to a few has become so prevalent and overbearing for many in American culture today. Hoop Dreams is an amazing documentary — it has and will remain one the most important movies about sports in America ever.

#1 — Rocky (1976)

I grew up watching the tale of underdog nobody Rocky Balboa accomplishing the impossible and taking on the best in the ring (love you, Carl Weathers). In fact, it was about this film that I even had my first real discourse about cinema with my 6th grade teacher. It took on an even greater significance for me when I finally got to see it on the big screen in Hollywood at the AFI 20 years event a few years back (Stallone presented with Talia Shire making an appearance), because for the first time I really got to see how gorgeous the cinematography and craft of this film is in enhancing its inspiring story. Rocky, the film itself, was its own underdog story as audience members walked out of initial screenings but over time grew to capture America’s heart and earned itself and its writer/star Sly Stallone Oscars. To me, Rocky will always remain the definitive sports film. It has everything a great sports film should have, but its simple but powerful writing, memorable characters (love you, Burgess Meredith) and glorious and innovative (at the time) fight scenes make this little film that could go the distance.

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photo sources:

http://ntcf.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/cool-runnings-800-75.jpg

http://soniceclectic.com/files/2011/02/angels-in-the-outfield-original.jpg

http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/7600000/Ellen-Whip-it-ellen-page-7646838-509-338.jpg

http://www.thefilmdb.co.uk/images/raging-bull-original2.jpg

http://cf1.imgobject.com/backdrops/020/4c1462d27b9aa104ae000020/the-sandlot-original.jpg

http://img.pleax.com/04/1233983985_The-Wrestler-2008-New-Cinema-Wallpaper-du-mois-Mickey-Rourke-scene-15-1280.jpg

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7ADRcdyZO2k/TL6Lrxi1lpI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/Wa27hEgeeIQ/s1600/Fullscreen+capture+10192010+121958+PM.jpg

http://hwcdn.themoviedb.org/oldimg/backdrops/26423/Any_Given_Sunday__1999_-fanart.jpg

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReviews12/hoop%20dreams%20criterion%20dvd%20review/cap%20hoop%20dreams% . %20hoop5jpg

http://outnow.ch/Media/Movies/Bilder/1976/Rocky/movie.fs/04.jpg

BEST IN GENRE (Sci-Fi): Scruffy-Looking Nerd-Herders — Writing The Empire Strikes Back

by Austin Flones

Hope that didn’t ruin the magic for you…

The Empire Strikes Back is probably the best film of the Star Wars trilogy. It is certainly my favorite, as it is for most fans and critics; both Lucas-haters and Lucas-lovers alike. For the Lucas-haters (i.e. those who feel as though their childhood was molested by the newest batch Star Wars films), Empire is especially favored because of the noticeable lack of George in its more creative roles. Unlike Star Wars: A New Hope, Lucas did not direct The Empire Strikes Back and in the writing department Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett are listed as the principles.

In light of the prequel trilogy the haters have given special praise to the additional creative talents of Empire for both writers as well as major props to Irvin Kershner for directing, declaring that because of the his work on the prequels Lucas isn’t a good writer and director and the success of Empire is clear evidence of that fact precisely because Lucas didn’t write solo or direct. In response to Lucas’ directing abilities I would point critics to the masterful THX 1138, American Graffiti or even the first Star Wars film as evidence to the contrary. At the same time it is no secret that Lucas hates both writing and directing and most of the actors of Star Wars have spoken of his painful inability to work with them on set; he is by no means an actor’s director. In fact, Lucas wore himself out so much on the creative end while shooting Star Wars (he checked himself into a hospital near the end of the shoot) that he wanted nothing to do with either roles for the sequel.

What follows is not as much a defense for the creative merit of George Lucas (especially in writing) as much as it will try to shed new light on the old argument of whether or not he had anything to do with the creative success (as judged by fans and critics) of The Empire Strikes Back. Did Empire become the most beloved of the Star Wars trilogy because George didn’t have a hand in writing the actual screenplay and in the directing? The new definitive account of the whole process has been recently published in The Making of the Empire Strikes Back by J.W. Rinzler and I highly recommend checking it out if you like Star Wars AT ALL because it is very illuminating:

Now that I’m done pimping this book, I’ll use it as our guide and from it quote Yoda in saying, “some new information might let our way”.

In the beginning Lucas had an rough idea of what he wanted to do with Star Wars. Some of his earliest notes outline Episode I as being the prequel, Episodes II-IV as the Clone Wars Trilogy, Episode V as the Epilogue/Prologue and then Episode VI as starting the “Star Wars Trilogy.” This would have rung up the entire saga at a whopping eight pictures, obviously things changed. So after making the first Star Wars and setting it at Episode IV instead of VI, Lucas had some serious rearranging to do of the story line. He had a few notes scribbled down about what kind of things he would like to see in the sequel such as, “Mention lost sister – trained Jedi,” and “Mystical / Religious- Intellectualsim,” but beyond that a new story needed to be crafted from scratch once again.

Because of the exhaustive nature of screenwriting and with two new companies to manage (ILM, Lucasfilm), George decided to call in the talents of author/screenwriter Leigh Brackett, whose Sci-Fi novellas date back to the 1940′s. Though well accomplished in the world of science fiction publishing, movie goers would probably know here better for her work as screenwriter on the Big Sleep and Rio Bravo. So with a new and talented writer who understands well how to write both science fiction and great cinema, Lucas began narrating the plot outline to Brackett, who would then go and turn those ideas into a formal draft; ideas which included scenes of Darth Vader brooding around his large castle on a snow planet and a clone gambler who controls a city in the clouds called Hoth. Other parts of the plot included Han having a distant relative who he would go search out to help the Rebellion’s cause and the addition of an important  new character who in early concepts looked like this:

Minch Yoda

and was named by Lucas, Minch Yoda.

So, off Brackett went off to write up the 1st draft of the screenplay for the Star Wars sequel whilst Lucas handled other pressing matters such as how to reacquire his crew and equipment at ILM back from a newly developed TV show at Universal called Galactica to whom he had rented them out (which would later be titled, wait for it…Battlestar Galactica – the similarities between the pilot and Star Wars are nothing short of hilariously entertaining and blatantly ripped off) as well as trying to find immediate funding to secure bank loans so that he could self-finance the upcoming sequel. That’s right, self-finance. At the time The Empire Strikes Back was one of the largest scale independent films ever mounted, only to be superseded by the subsequent Star Wars films, and Lucas did it through toy sales. But when they needed money to start pre-production on Empire, the toys were just being conceived of as Star Wars was still soaking in the blockbuster glory of  its original theatrical run. So the plan was conceived to pre-sell a six pack of action figures through mail order that would arrive six months later to eagerly awaiting boys and girls (…anyways, I’m getting off track — this is about George the artisté not George the Forbes businessman).

An example of Leigh Brackett's type of original Sci/Fi

Finally Leigh Brackett finished composing the first draft and while staying faithful to the treatment she and Lucas outlined…I’ll let you make up your own mind about it. Brackett’s vision of the galaxy far, far away included:

1. In the opening of the film Luke Skywalker does not leave Han to investigate a fallen meteor but rather to admire a “real pretty ice formation.”

2. When talking about the ice planet (Hoth) Han Solo remarks “I doubt if even God (?) remembers where he hung this star.”

3.  Whilst closing in on the Rebel Base on the ice planet, Darth Vader comments on his history saying: ” [Luke Skywalker] disabled my fighter and sent me off into space…I had much time to consider Master Skywalker while I was waiting to be rescued. He’s too much like his father…”

Keep in mind this was before anyone, even Lucas, knew that Vader would end up being Luke’s father. Also, could you imagine if this dialogue made the final cut, Vader saying that and then killing Admiral Motti? Anyways, back at it…

4. Vader also taunts Luke, “You’re in love with Leia. You don’t want to lose her to Han Solo…but you will.”

5. Then Lando reveals his past, “I’m a clone. Of the Ashardi family.”

6. After a lot more of that the film ends with Luke igniting his lightsaber to salute the Falcon as it soars off into the galaxy.

Also there was a rad battle between the snow monsters and the Rebels, before the snow battle with the AT-AT’s in which the Wampa’s tear up the Falcon. Concerning the 1st draft, quoth Lucas, “My thoughts during the story conference weren’t fully formed, and I felt the script went off in in a completely different direction.” But when he tried to call Brackett up to discuss he was told she was in the hospital. With no writer and an already locked production schedule, Lucas had to start working on the 2nd draft — which he completed in just six weeks, very quickly when compared to the three years it took to write the first film.  ”I had no script and no one to write the damn thing. No matter how much I wanted to get out of writing, I was forced to sit down and write it.” What did Lucas’ undesired rendering yield in the 2nd draft?

1. Developed Yoda’s speech pattern.

2. Introduces the bounty hunters.

3. Decided to make Darth Vader Luke’s father.

5. Gave the film a serious more adult tone despite its fantastic nature.

“I wanted to do something that was a little bit more grown-up in terms of the entertainment value, which meant more realistic and more of a fear factor.” Being forced to write himself, Lucas actually improved his own story. While George was busy busting out the 2nd draft Leigh Brackett passed away from the cancer she had been battling for some time, though she would still receive a posthumous credit for writer along with Lawrence Kasdan, whom Lucas hired on to finish the final drafts of the screenplay as he had many producer duties to attend to. Kasdan had this to say about Brackett’s draft and writing:

“We discarded Leigh’s script, which we never treated as the basis for anything. The writing part is always the hardest part of filmmaking. Almost anyone can direct — they won’t necessarily direct well, but the machinery works. You can take someone off the street and put them with an experienced crew and the movie will get made. But writing can’t be faked, it doesn’t run itself. It has to be worked out very specifically, word for word, image for image.”

After massive script meetings with both Lucas and director Irvin Kershner, Kasdan attempted to yield the third draft of the script. It was through his work that Empire really began to come to life as most of the dialogue that ended up in the film was from his genius. For instance, Kasdan brilliantly crafted the opening bickering scenes on Hoth between Leia and Han, which both establish most of the major conflicts of the film while also developing their characters, relationship to each other, how it’s changed since the last film, and where it’s all going.

Kershner, Lucas, Kasdan

So in all reality, the real screenwriters of Empire were Lucas, for all of the story with its plot points and character arcs, and Kasdan who fleshed it out and gave the memorable and more naturalistic dialogue helping to make Empire the grittiest installment of the saga. But Lucas only took the Story credit despite the fact that he wrote the second draft and had a much larger role in the creative process than even he originally intended. Now, this isn’t all to bash the hell out of Leigh Brackett. She was a phenomenal screenwriter and author — a real, veteran science fiction writer, in contrast to the comparatively amateur creators of Star Wars. Like Lucas said, her script went in a completely different direction. Not bad, just different. I think that the difference between Brackett’s and Lucas’ ideas of what the Star Wars galaxy consisted of is just another example of how the films are much more tales of operatic fantasy than contemplative science fiction.

I will throw one bone to the Lucas-haters though in that Lucas did pass his draft onto another more experienced and talented writer. In other words, he let someone help him, something that did not happen in the writing process for the prequels. Whether you think those films are good, bad or mediocre, I think that the brilliance of Empire alone attests to the fact that sometimes, not always but sometimes, both letting someone else help or even take over for you can turn your film into something great. At the same time it’s important to learn that we shouldn’t be quick to pass on our own imaginations to other people because sometimes you just have to do things yourself if you want them done right.

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All quotes and research taken from The Making of the Empire Strikes Back by J.W. Rinzler

1. http://cdn.fd.uproxx.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Star-Wars-Darth-600×399.jpg

2. http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQSwd680zcTE_-fqpweJ4LIqH1cb2XFQedAvOlBOFCI_jLOx6rX&t=1

3. http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/n0/n3682.jpg

4. http://gnombient.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/wampa-attack.jpg

5.. http://latimesherocomplex.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/kershener-lucas-kurtz-empire-strike-back.jpg?w=600&h=421

BEST IN GENRE (Horror): Slasher Films

by Austin Flones

As All Hallow’s Eve approaches, I thought it fitting to bring up one of the holiday’s favorite cinematic treats and a staple of any great horror film marathon: the slasher film. You know the regular guys: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Leatherface. All dudes with serious family problems and a knack for causing a lot of gore and grief in your local neighborhood, camp or backwoods road stop. These are villains who in just a few decades have become almost canon in America’s cultural mythology and a must have for costume sales come October. I remember being terribly affected after watching just the very beginning of Halloween IV. I was very young and wouldn’t see Halloween for another 6 years. But every night Michael Myers would haunt my dreams and I would have to bargain with him not to cut me up into little pieces. This is to say, whether or not you think these characters are corny and outdated, their gory work has left its indelible mark on our culture’s (and my own) psyche for over three decades.

It makes me wonder, why have these guys have lasted so long? Most horror villains these days can’t make it past their first sequel, and that’s even if they get one. There are some seemingly obvious answers: these films do have sequels thus keeping them alive and well in our culture’s (and yes others) consciousness, they also have remakes furthering that end. While these are valid arguments, I want to instead turn to the film’s cinematic qualities. For it’s not just the characters themselves that have prolonged their cultural lifespan and influence, but the films themselves that helped these monsters get there.

It all started in 1974. Wait a minute…okay, it all started in 1960 with Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, the most shocking horror film of its time and the primary influence on the slasher films (especially Friday the 13^th) to follow it over a decade later. Psycho’s star villain, Norman Bates, who has serious mommy and sexual issues, wreaks terror on those misguided enough to stay at his family’s motel.  Although Psycho is the grandfather of slasher films, so much has been written about it that I couldn’t possibly be naïve enough to think I could add anything new to the conversation. It is an important slasher film, especially when talking about the psychology and philosophy of the sub-genre, but this article has more to do with the cinematic qualities of its successors. So moving on, 14 years later…

It all started in 1974 with Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, a film that was not well received right out of the gate but eventually gained enormous fan support and critical praise. It carried early influences of “the rules” (see Scream) or clichés of the soon-to-be over-saturated slasher genre. The next two hits to advance the sub-genre were John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) and Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13^th (1980). Besides spawning three popular masked killers, these share something else in common. All were independent films, and all were made for under $600,000. Extremely low-budgets for such highly successful franchises to be sure. How do such inexpensive horror films rake in millions of dollars? I’d imagine for many simpler reasons: great marketing, frightful villains, eerie scores, chilling scares and memorable gory kills… all elements that almost any slasher, good or bad, still carry today. So what then sets these apart?

I have a few ideas. First of all, as I mentioned before, they were all low-budget indie pictures. In his 1974 review of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Roger Ebert is quoted, “Horror and exploitation films almost always turn a profit if they’re brought in at the right price. So they provide a good starting place for ambitious would-be filmmakers who can’t get more conventional projects off the ground.” Yes Roger, they do. Got raw talent, no money and want to start a career in the movie world? Make a horror picture. Other and more recent successes that attest to this are Paranormal Activity and The Blair Witch Project. Horror films are a quick and dirty way to get a reaction from your audience, so in a sense half the battle is already over. When examining at the three films under consideration as well as newer one’s like Blair Witch and Paranormal, low-budget can often times means forced innovation and detailed craftsmanship. Every second, dollar and frame of film counts. With no time or money to waste and no expensive special effects to replace raw storytelling, I insist that for horror, the seemingly less than ideal circumstance of having little money often produces an excellence in storytelling and craftsmanship that might not have been there otherwise. It’s the whole art through adversity mantra that even big budget flicks like Jaws have benefited from; it’s “we have no money so how can we make this interesting?”

Friday the 13^th exercises this the most. I saw this movie much later than a horror fan should, having really no desire to view what I thought would be shoddy offering to the genre. Although many critics would (fairly) disagree, I found it to be quite the opposite. It shared many of the great qualities of its predecessors TCM and Halloween: a simple but highly effective score, a simple but highly effective premise (dare I call it a plot?), a terrifying villain.  But what I found to be most captivating about the film was its creative and quite ingenious cinematography. Simple yet incredibly effective, the camera always keeps you believing that the killer is just off of the frame, keeping the intensity heightened throughout almost the entire picture…and any glimpses we do get of the killer are shrouded and vague. A brilliant solution for a insufficient production design budget. I praise Texas Chainsaw for the gorgeous use of its 16mm film, its use of color and its unique portrait of the deep southern American landscape. I praise Halloween for its subtle and languid technique through use of constant and daring tracking shots (sans SteadiCam) that compound the tension and paint a frightful vision of American suburbia. But most of all I praise Friday the 13^th – for, in spite of its muddy film stock, poor lighting and general lack of any aesthetic value, it manages to take all of that and still produce something fresh, new and terrifying simply through where it decided to place camera. Art through adversity wins again. Of course that’s not its only shining quality: it also provides much in the way of philosophical and psychological discussion, taking themes found in Psycho to the next level (but that is another discussion entirely).

The next quality that sets these classics apart from today’s slasher offerings, are the simplicity of their plots and structures. Take Texas Chainsaw, for example. It was a simple concept, and I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Tobe:  What if we made a live-action version of Scooby Doo but like…the monster’s were real?!

Friend:  Cool! But how do we make Scoob real?

Tobe:  Uh…let’s just make him a fat, annoying invalid.

Friend:  Genius, let’s shoot this bitch.

Okay…a lot more went into it than that, but my exaggerated point remains the same.  Halloween, Friday the 13^th and Texas Chainsaw Massacre all do not stem from some highly cerebral pool of inspiration but rather from a thick puddle of mud begging to be played in. Texas Chainsaw, as illustrated above, on the surface is no more than a “real-life” Scooby-Doo episode where rather then unmasking the villain, Scoob and the gang become the mask, literally. I hated the movie at first. I missed the film’s complexities and strong social commentary not being able to see beyond this it’s simplicity and bloodlust. In fact it took come convincing led by our own Matt Groves to make me finally see the brilliance that is Tobe Hooper.  I now call that simplicity artful and that bloodlust (of which there is very little actual blood) an unapologetic apocalyptic expression of the post-Vietnam horror boiling below the once picture-perfect American nuclear. Taking another simple but entirely different view of Texas Chainsaw, one could say it is simply someone trying to accurately depict a terrifying nightmare. This is wholly accurate; it really is a reoccurring, unrelenting nightmare, which is attested to by its story structure alone.

Halloween is equally simple but turns its magnifying glass away from the outskirts of America and directly onto the fruits of the 1950’s American dream suburbia.

I find its premise to be the most simplistic and effective of the three. It’s one of those films that is so blatantly obvious you wish you would have been the first to recognize it: What if you made a flick about a dude killing a bunch of people in your neighborhood? But what’s the plot? That is the plot, a dude brutally murdering people. It’s really that simple, again at least on the surface. It does toy with the idea of Michael being the boogeyman, but we know he was just a kid when the evil started.

Halloween could have been a disaster in a thousand different ways. Thankfully an already established master of his craft, John Carpenter, helmed the project. He was able to reign in on the key elements that make this horrifying subject matter. Michael Myers works (and is my favorite) because he is faceless. So is Leatherface, but his mask is composed of the earth – we know where he’s been and where his motive comes from. With Michael we don’t know why he’s evil, and Halloween is the only movie ever that can get away with that lack of important information because ultimately its not about Michael but rather the loss of unique personal identification that occurs through assimilation and terror. The Nazis were a terror both faceless and familiar; they gave up their humanity through assimilation. Michael Myers, like anyone who commits crime so heinous, loses their humanity and becomes a faceless ghost among killers. Just watch the final interview with Ted Bundy. I couldn’t imagine a nicer, gentler, more innocent-seeming, white-middle-class American face than his. Like Texas Chainsaw and Friday the 13^th, Halloween has way more going on below its simple surface. Sometimes it’s the simpler tales that prove the most effective.

In conclusion, I think that the cinematic qualities (cinematography, direction and story structure) are what make The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween and Friday the 13^th stand firmly above the rest of what is mostly an exploitative sub-genre. Yes, the memorable slashers themselves helped tremendously, but the primary films from each series stand the test of both entertainment and critical review. Slashers today should take note that if they want to make a new good slasher movie (an almost impossible task given the exhaustion of the genre) please include either innovative (that doesn’t just mean 3D), gorgeous or at least just some plain old story serving cinematography, a simple story premise that you can pack with socio-politcal undercurrents and do all that on a low budget so you are forced to make new artistic choices. Oh, and take it from these classics and maybe lessen the gore factor, it’s not what makes these films great (gore fans feel free to strongly disagree).

But what you ask, about other popular films like Nightmare on Elm Street? Or Last House on the Left, a predecessor to Texas Chainsaw? In fact, why leave out Wes Craven at all?  He was certainly an innovator.

These are valid questions and arguments. With regards to Nightmare on Elm Street, its schlock. Albeit funny, gory, sometimes scary and wildly entertaining schlock that has some cinematic merit (see the opening sequence), but still schlock. Some could call Friday the 13^th the beginning of the end and I would agree except for my few arguments above. Nightmare I consider to be the beginning of the end.  It’s a great slasher but just doesn’t quite have that the qualities to make it a benchmark of the genre and I don’t think it has much to offer in the way of any real critical merit. Last House on the Left (Craven’s first) however does. It has much to offer. However, Craven, unlike Tobe Hooper did not impress me at all with his skills as a director. The music alone offset the entire mood that Craven was creating. Without that bad hippy soundtrack maybe I’d be singing a different tune. Ironically, Craven has had one the most successful careers in the horror biz. His film Scream and the newer Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon are the two most recent slashers that I feel have invigorated and brought something new and fresh to the tired old genre. But the success of the films draws only from the classic conventions set up by the big 3 I mentioned. All that to say, I think (and Andrew Bowcock I believe will disagree) Last House on the Left almost makes the cut of what in my opinion makes a great and classic slasher, but surprisingly misses the mark when it comes to the cinematic and aesthetic execution.

Now, horror fans, strike back!

photo sources:

http://lifeworthliving.typepad.com

http://www.dvdactive.com/reviews/dvd/texas-chain-saw-massacre-ultimate-edition-the.html

http://horrorlot.wordpress.com/2009/10/30/tribute-halloween-1978/myers-kid/

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/.a/6a00d8341c630a53ef01348648793f970c-pi

Batman: Widening Gyre

by Austin Flones

Today I picked up the new, recently released, 1st issue of Kevin Smith’s second run on our favorite DC caped crusader, Batman: Widening Gyre. The court-jester of the indie film world and the prince of fanboy geekdom, director Kevin Smith (Clerks, Dogma) is one of the only, if not the only, film directors to make a highly successful cross-over into the word of comic books.

Beginning with a few short comics based on the misadventures of his characters from Clerks, Smith quickly made his way up the industry ladder, kicking off a new Daredevil run back in 1998 at the behest of artist Joe Quesada (now Editor-In-Chief at Marvel).  Smith became a controversial new voice in the comic world and no not because of his same raunchy comedy subject matter that shocked the independent film world in the 90′s. Rather the Daredevil run was plagued with lateness on Smith’s part, making fans wait for months before the being able to finish the story arc. Also, Smith killed off a Spiderman villain, Mysterio, in a Daredevil story line, which caused great commotion amongst Daredevil fans. But, despite these issues, Daredevil: Guardian Devil has become considered by many to be one of the best story arcs of the character ever written since Frank Miller’s run and it really helped reboot the franchise. From there, Smith went on to write a 15 issue Green Arrow run for DC, a short Spiderman/Black Cat run and most recently has picked up the gauntlet again with the Dark Knight himself.

Last year Smith revisited the comic world with Batman: Cacophony and was joined by lifelong friend and Askewniverse favorite Walt Flanagan as the artist. It follows Batman as he faces old nemeses like The Joker and Deadshot as well as Onomatopoeia, a super-hero assassin that was created entirely by Smith. Although it was met with mixed reviews, I found Cacophony to be a lot of fun, especially when recognizing Smith’s unique voice and ear for dialogue throughout the story.

The first issue of Batman: Widening Gyre is no less amusing nor does it lack in suspense. Part of a six issue series, so far Gyre has had us revisit some old victory’s with Robin, some new ones with Nightwing (in a convenience store no less, and with a nice Clerks reference for fans) as well as facing off with Poison Ivy in Arkham Asylum. And I won’t say more, but there is a nice hook for the next issue due out in a couple weeks. So, if you are a fan of either Kevin Smith or the Dark Knight, and would like to visit a Gotham that is a little more mature than Saturday morning cartoons, check out Batman: Widening Gyre at your local comic book shop.

1. http://www.comicoo.com/daredevil_v2/Daredevil005/images/Daredevil%20v2%20005-15.jpg

2. http://images.comiccollectorlive.com/covers/4d2/4d2853e5-9fed-47db-876c-505b1f6fc58f.jpg

3. http://www.dccomics.com/media/product/1/2/12843_400x600.jpg

Cinematic Anthropology: Means Streets Revisited

by Austin Flones

When watching Nick Gomez’s gritty and unflinching Laws of Gravity (1992) even a casual fan of cinema would be able to quickly detect that the story essentially follows the same pattern and structure as Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets. Even going so far as to name its tragic self-destructive character Jon (after Robert DeNiro’s Johnny Boy of the same nature), Laws of Gravity follows the lives of low-life hoods growing up in the mean streets of New York City. Unlike Scorsese’s picture, Gomez’s characters have no set structure in which to grow into (the Mafia) and no morals (Catholic guilt) and any and all authority figures are completely taken out of the equation. In a sense the kids are left to fend for themselves, and they ain’t alright. Instead of being hustled for gambling debts, the central characters are hassled for stealing and selling guns from an illegal dealer, a decision that would eventually come back to haunt them. The themes of the surrogate family and that pride leads to self-destruction remain the same as in Mean Streets.

Some could argue that Laws of Gravity is merely a lesser rehash of a cult-classic. So why is this grainy independent film any more significant than the countless others like it? This is where I believe an anthropological approach to film can become a necessary tool to learning about culture, even in the fictional setting. You see, to anyone else Gomez’s debut film would be just a lousy remake of an American classic. But for an anthropologist, the depth and scope of Laws of Gravity runs deeper. Yes the film is a more or less a remake of Mean Streets, but it is unique because when examining the film more closely, it is interesting to note the cultural changes, or lack of in the dirtier parts of New York. Mean Streets was made on the same turf as Laws and was as anthropological as a film can come. Thirty years later, for Nick Gomez the streets are still mean, and maybe even meaner because they lack any sense of the authorial or moral structure that surrounded Scorsese when he was growing up. So viewing the film from an anthropological approach can give us a sense of how these very real American subcultures have progressed or deteriorated over time. I believe this is a strong example of how anthropology and cinema work together.

In conclusion, I hope to have given a fair, if not brief account for the importance of viewing cinema through an anthropological lens, more specifically through films of a fictional nature and how independent cinema offers the clearest examples of these. As the movie industry changes, the homegrown independent films of the ’85-’95 vein that were made by filmmakers who “used the roughness” of their environment, bringing us fresh and new art with personal voice to spare, have begun to fade away but are not gone completely. David Gordon Greene’s portrayal of the poor working class youth of North Carolina in George Washington (2000) is as refreshing, heartfelt and yes most certainly as anthropological as anything else out there today. Gus Van Sant has also continued the trend ever since his dirty debut Mala Noche exposed audiences to the dark under belly of Portland in 1985. In 2003 Van Sant’s Elephant provided an honest, different and frightening look at Portland’s (and America’s) youth over a decade later. So as American subcultures continue to transform with each decade, and as the young filmmakers who inhabit them continue to strive for some sense of reality and cultural expression in cinema, I believe there will always be a place and an importance for anthropology in cinema.

Cinematic Anthropology: Actors and Slacking Off

by Austin Flones

This discussion of fiction vs. non-fiction and the narrative vs. non-narrative brings us to one the most unique and influential films in the ’85-’95 era of American independents. Richard Linklater’s Slacker, released in 1991 and made for a mere $23,000, would become the new harbinger of the independent film movement for the remainder of the decade (’85-’95). Influenced heavily by European cinema, Slacker follows a cast of more than 100 characters as they navigate their way around the unmotivated college town of Austin, TX. As indie-film guru John Pierson describes it, ³“Slacker instantly felt like an engaging twenty-four hour tour across the four corners of a hanging-out college town with an amusing collection of about a hundred losers and schmoozers, conspiracy buffs, angry romantics, vanishing poets, and wacky philosophers.” It is a film that moves in legato, painting a vast portrait of life through interweaving vignettes while boasting of no real narrative, theme or moral lesson. As film critic Ron Rosenbaum suggests, ⁴ “Slacker is a brilliant tribute to bohemian cerebration and metaphysical speculation.”

To create this tapestry of urban culture, Linklater used hundreds of actors, or non-actors rather, to reflect the wide array of lifestyles and worldviews of the people that inhabited the town of Austin. Drawing convincing performances from a cast of over 100 non-actors seems like a daunting task to even the most seasoned director. John Pierson notes that, ³“the documentary description is suggestive. Rick [Linklater] made a scripted movie using characteristics and contributions of his players. Slacker feels real.” To obtain this real and almost documentary like feel for the movie, Linklater based the characters on the actor’s themselves. Because the almost completely inexperienced cast played themselves, the performances came off as unsettling genuine, as if the camera was absolutely nowhere near them. And Linklater isn’t the first to employ this technique of casting. The performances in Wayne Wang’s Chan Is Missing also have this same authentic quality to them.

Casting non or no name actors is a quality that almost all independent films share. This is usually a result of budgetary issues, but has often proven to strengthen the films, sometimes even making stars of those no name actors. Neil LaBute’s In the Company of Men (1997) made a star out of Aaron Eckhart, Kevin Smith’s Clerks created irreverent pop-culture icons out of his characters Jay and Silent Bob, played by himself and Jason Mewes, and even Scorsese’s I Call First featured the now legendary Harvey Keitel. As Kevin Smith says about his third feature Chasing Amy (1997), ⁵“It helped that there were actors in that movie with whom audiences weren’t overly familiar…that movie worked largely for audiences because it didn’t have anybody they knew, so you could believe the dialogue and situation.”  And so it is that niche, no-name casting can be a valuable asset for the independent filmmaker, also often times contributing to the realist atmosphere that these films tend to uphold. This is another key reason why Hollywood has the next to impossible task of creating films that are anthropologically relevant.

By choosing to have no plot or even a theme or central character, director Richard Linklater did something radical with Slacker that virtually no one else^B in American cinema had ever succeeded in before. He combined documentary realism with characters from a fictional non-narrative, creating visual poetry that drew from the bohemian culture itself. Linklater observed his culture through expression rather than simply documenting it. Because of this, Slacker provides one of the clearest and in a sense, purest forms of cinematic anthropology. It is a display of a particular American subculture, as Scorsese said, of its people: what they wore, what they ate, how they talked and interacted in a certain place and time.

However this does not make up for the fact that some find Slacker nothing more than a boring indulgence. As one early and quite unsatisfied viewer of the film exclaimed, ³ “Why are the lives of these unproductive, pretentious, and boring people documented on film? The movie does not mean anything.” This critic asks some very relevant questions here. But at the heart of this person’s confusion is the same confusion that we are presented with when viewing film through an anthropological lens. That is, what is really the point of studying anthropology through fictional movies, or of this article for that matter?

In the next part of this essay I will try to answer this by examining how one final independent movie compares and contrasts with Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets, and what we can learn about this film’s subculture from that comparison. Stay tuned.

Images 1&2: http://www.criterionforum.org/DVD-review/slacker/the-criterion-collection/276

³ John Pierson, “Slacking Off,” Spike Mike Reloaded, 2003

⁴ Ron Rosenbaum, “Slacker’s Oblique Strategy”, The New York Observer, Aug. 13, 2001

⁵ John Pierson, “The Last Word,” Spike Mike Reloaded, 2003

^B John Cassavetes Shadows (1959) reflects attributes of Slacker as well as of many of the other independent films described above. It is the true independent and anthropological grandfather, however I decdied to only examine the 2^nd American new wave of independents for this essay as there is a deeper and more accessible pool of films to draw from.

Cinematic Anthropology: Elements

Use of the environment is an element of independent film that naturally lends itself to anthropological insights. Wayne Wang’s Chan Is Missing (1982) is one of the first American independent movies to use its rough locations to its advantage, giving the environment a life and character all of its own. Wang shot his $22,000 black and white picture by doing what he calls “using the roughness.” That is, taking what limited resources he had and using them to their fullest potential. For Wang, this was San Francisco’s Chinatown, a district teeming with interesting people and locations, all of which he had access to because it was his backyard. This idea of “using the roughness” is something that reoccurs again and again in the low-budget independent films that were born out of their environments.

With what little money they had, Scorsese’s I Call First, Kevin Smith’s Clerks (1994) and Robert Rodriguez’s El Mariachi (1992) all made the best possible use of the locations and elements they were allotted: Scorsese had Little Italy; Smith, a New Jersey convenience store; and Rodriguez, a guitar case and a small Mexican border town. With no money to build sets or buy props of any kind, these filmmakers used their unique surroundings to their advantage, each turning out a film that, whether purposefully or not, provided a fresh and exciting window into the filmmaker’s milieu. By using the real locations and elements found within each filmmaker’s own backyard, these independent films and many others like them cannot help but give off the colorful, raw, visceral and vibrant auras that they do for their audiences. It is an unpretentious anthropology that Hollywood cannot quite emulate in any studio or with any set.

This grungy convenience store was home to director Kevin Smith while filming Clerks. He worked there by day and shot there by night.

The documentary is the second closest genre to realize the kind of anthropology that I am talking about here. One would naturally suppose that the documentary is inherently a more anthropological medium than the fictional narrative found in these independent films. I would agree with that argument to the degree that the goal, the sole purpose of the documentary is to expose and “document” a unique event, culture, experience, etc. However I don’t believe that this approach achieves the same level of cultural expression that can be found within a fictional movie. Would one better gain insight into the true nature of sharks from the movie Jaws or from a sharks documentary found on the Discovery Channel? Most certainly it would be from the documentary. But to pose a different question, from which of these two shark films would you learn what it truly feels like to fear the mysterious and dangerous presence of the shark? I propose that the answer would be Jaws. The terror of the shark (and subsequently of the ocean) that the fictional movie stirs within taught me more about what it feels like to fear nature than any piece of non-fiction ever will.

In the same way, independent film can draw anthropological insights and raw emotions from the American sub-culture that the documentary, with some exceptions^A, has a much more difficult time doing. It is like poetry vs. exposition; expression vs. description. The fictional narrative (or even the non-narrative as we will soon discuss) can express what non-fiction (even the non-fictional narrative) can often only really describe.

Next week: Actors and Slacking Off.

^A An excellent example of this is Barbara Kopple’s Harlan County, USA (1976)

Pictures:

1.http://lh5.ggpht.com/oohdahling/RzHpVV7KcVI/AAAAAAAABqo/gSrKMkHS-oo/s400/lipo+-+chan+missing.jpg

2.. www.asiaarts.ucla.edu/media/images/5-07_Chan%20is%20Missing_cover.jpg

3. http://www.dougandadrienne.info/chasingclerks/quickstop1.jpg

Cinematic Anthropology: Voice

Part Two

by Austin Flones

I must admit that the idea of film as anthropology is nothing new. To think that all cinema before Scorsese has been but a gross outpouring of romantic and adventurous idealism through the Hollywood dream-factory would be naive. Scorsese was neither the first nor the last to use anthropology in film (or film in anthropology depending on context); Easy Rider, as referenced earlier, is one of the most independent and anthropological American films ever made. But Scorsese’s career does provide a good launching point for when film and anthropology would become more closely linked as American independent cinema moved into its prime in the latter half of the 20^th century; most notably between the years of 1985 -1995.

There are two qualities that set the independent film apart from the studio picture when regarding cinema as anthropology. These are that independent pictures generally provide a fresh and unique voice that would otherwise go unheard and that the films use their environment and usually unknown cast to their advantage, all of which would be hard pressed to find within the current Hollywood system.

One of the loudest voices to ever rise from the world of independent cinema came in 1985 from a filmmaker that would not only help usher in the American Independent movement but who would also revitalize and revolutionize black cinema. Like Scorsese, this filmmaker also came from the streets of New York; his name was Spike Lee and his movie was the low-budget comedy She’s Gotta Have It.

In a promo spot hours before the film’s debut screening at the San Francisco Film Festival, a confident Mr. Lee told radio listeners ⁶“In thirty years, you’ll be able to tell your children you were there.” And he was right; Lee’s crudely hilarious yet unrepentant debut film won over audiences and critics alike. During the film’s second screening, audience members waited fifteen minutes in a pitch black auditorium when the local power suddenly went out. They warded off the SWAT team that was trying to evacuate them so they could finish a film they were only a half-hour into. A new era in American cinema had begun.

It wasn’t name actors, an expensive budget or a lavish landscape that kept people in their seats. She’s Gotta Have It did take audiences to another world, but it was one that neither exploited nor apologized for it. Spike Lee had something to say about the true black culture in urban America, and it wasn’t like anything the country had seen before. Instead of the gangsters and pimps of the blaxploitation movies of the 1970’s, Lee represented his black America as both an intelligent and attractive one. She’s Gotta Have It is a window into the flattop, hip-hop, Air Jordan culture of the 1980’s that still continues to influence American culture even today. It is a piece of anthropology that shouts out for a subculture whose voice would otherwise go unheard if left to the Hollywood system. As indie-distributor Jeff Lipsky of October Films wrote, “His [Spike Lee] debut feature is not a social issue movie; in this case the talent of an individual is speaking rather than the individual trying to speak for an entire race or for an entire cause.” And Lee has often stated that he is not the spokesman for the entire African-American community.  Rather, Lee’s unique style and voice represents his black sub-culture with a vitality and charisma that cannot help but affect its audience. Lipsky goes onto say, “It is ironic that a white filmmaker made Sounder (1972) and that another white filmmaker made The Color Purple (1985), in both cases perhaps out of liberal guilt. Spike doesn’t suffer from guilt he suffers from talent and a great sense of humor.” In short, while Hollywood tried to represent the African-American culture with an outsider perspective, Spike Lee redefined it from within. With its distinct voice, She’s Gotta Have It is a shining example of how independent cinema has the power to reflect culture in a way that no Hollywood picture ever could.

Tune in next week  for the next segment of Cinematic Anthropology: Elements.

Mars Blackman (Spike Lee) from SGHI and Michael Jordan

Sources:

⁶ John Pierson, “She’s Gotta Have It,” Spike Mike Reloaded, 2003

Image Sources:

1. http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yzF-kkmf-GM/Sdnx-IeKZOI/AAAAAAAACp4/uJkWv2n1bfg/s400/shes-gotta-have-it_l.jpg

2. http://img133.imageshack.us/i/marsb3yc.jpg/

Cinematic Anthropology: The Heart of the American Independent Film

PART ONE

by Austin Flones

Cinema, at its core, has always been about capturing life in one respect or another. The medium’s earliest enthusiasts were scientists who encouraged its development because they foresaw film as a tool with which they could not only capture and study the natural world around them, but the nature of man as well. After inventors, most notably Thomas Edison, created the moving image they could not foresee a future in the discovery and passed “movies” off as a novelty. Others that were not as short sighted as Edison quickly capitalized on his lack of foresight and quickly began to find ways to market this new novelty to the public. As the age of the silver screen began to evolve, people were stunned to see workers leaving a hard days labor at the factory, frightened to see a train coming towards them and pleasantly disgusted to see a couple peck each other on the lips – most certainly a sacrilegious display of public affection. Audiences, immigrants and “natives” alike, were fascinated to see images of life projected right before their very eyes. However the magic of just seeing a moving image quickly became dull as audiences grew bored of the same old shorts. Filmmaker’s now had to up the ante to keep people’s interests, and to do so they turned to the fictional narrative. As audiences began to pack houses again to see their favorite silent celebrities on the big screen, the industry that would eventually adapt the name of Hollywood was off and running, becoming a medium almost exclusively of escapism and the fantastical.

Louis Lumière's documentary "La Sortie des usines Lumière" stunned audiences in 1895.

Like any industry, Hollywood soon learned that they had to adapt to the swings of the culture they dwelt in and when the 1970’s rolled around, America had become disillusioned with the romantic ideals that old Hollywood had to offer. A new generation of filmmaker’s began to take over and what is now dubbed the “Second Golden Age” of Hollywood was beginning. This new line-up of filmmakers would include the likes of Steven Spielberg (Jaws), Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather), Roman Polanski (Chinatown), George Lucas (Star Wars) and a short but sharp-witted filmmaker from Queens, NY named Martin Scorsese. In the wake of the turbulent 1960’s, with the painful Vietnam War coming to a close, many of these directors didn’t see the secure and confident America that their parent’s generation knew in the prosperous 1950’s. Patriotism was replaced with pessimism as people searched for something to trust in. Romanticism was thrown out the door and Hollywood began to acknowledge that the world was indeed a dreadful and painful place to live in.

Cinema started to reflect the world around it again, most notably with 1969’s Easy Rider; a film that examines the romantic hippie ideals of the sixties while simultaneously recognizing that such ideals could not last forever. In its powerful final scene director Dennis Hopper destroys the very freedom his film promotes, almost predicting the unrest of the decade to come. Soon films like Coppola’s The Godfather (1972) and Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) would become favorites among audiences as hero became anti-hero and the world in which they existed was one of pain, fear and loss; the stories often concluding with less than pleasant endings. This new wave of filmmakers saw that people had become cynical and untrusting of their country and, until later in the decade, could not create art that reflected otherwise. If art reflects society then to do anything else would be falsifying the zeitgeist of the age. Hollywood began to look at its people again and, if only for a short while, assimilate the new mood and environment that permeated throughout the American culture.

Of all the filmmakers to capture the disturbed mood of the 1970’s, with a sense of unbridled realism, Martin Scorsese stands out among the rest. In a 1973 article posted in TIME magazine, critic Richard Schickel had this to say about Scorsese’s unapologetic, hard-hitting second feature Mean Streets (1973),¹“One leaves the film with the sense of having endured a class in social anthropology rather than an aesthetic experience.” The film takes place in the rough New York neighborhoods that Scorsese grew up in, and concerns itself more with the “down and dirty” environment of its characters than with its actual narrative. Mean Streets, as Schickel suggests, is a movie that would rather force its audience into a visceral inner-city experience than provide another romantic escape into the ritzy Manhattan skyline. In Mean Streets Scorsese explores his Roman-Catholic Italian heritage through his anxious, guilt ridden and self-destructive characters that work and live in the underworld of New York’s vicious yet colorful Italian subculture.

Scorsese's Indie Debut Examines Catholic Guilt in the Urban Streets of NY

This was not the first time Scorsese examined his cultural and religious upbringings. Released in 1968 and made for a shoestring budget of $75,000, Scorsese describes his first feature I Call First (later renamed Who’s That Knocking at My Door) “anthropological” as it reflects a certain group of people: what they wore, what they ate, how they talked and interacted in a certain place and time. In a 1967 review of the picture, film critic ²Roger Ebert described I Call First as a picture that “brings together the two opposing worlds of American cinema.” These two worlds being that of traditional Hollywood films such as Marty (1955) and On the Waterfront (1954) that try to “function at the level where real lives are led” and that of experimental films like The Connection (1962) and Shadows (1959) which use hidden cameras and improvised dialogue to capture a “fresh” and “spontaneous” cinematic experience. Ebert goes onto to say that I Call First, “brings these two kinds of films together into a work that is absolutely genuine [and] artistically satisfying.” In other words Scorsese found a perfect harmony between Hollywood’s attempt at creating realism and experimental film’s attempt at capturing it spontaneously.

In both Mean Streets and I Call First environment and subculture are their own living and breathing entities that give life and breath to the characters that inhabit them. This presents Scorsese’s audience a brazen dose of realism to go with their fiction. And it is this sense of realism that neither Hollywood, the experimental film nor (as I will later argue) the documentary have been able to replicate. These films have captured American culture in a remarkable way that to truly grasp must be viewed through a more scientific lens. And that lens, as Scorsese has suggested, is an anthropological one.

Editor’s Note: This is the first part of a series on American Independent Film that Austin will be writing about in the next few weeks.

Footnotes:

¹ Richard Schickel, “Closed Circle,” TIME, Nov. 5, 1973

² Roger Ebert, “Call First/ Who’ s That Knocking at My Door?,” Nov. 17, 1967

Images:

1. http://textoflight.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/workers-leaving-the-factory.jpg

2. http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s9bZUCtws8c/SVWkYPCpbkI/AAAAAAAAAso/QtG40BO0-_k/s1600-h/Knocking.jpg