Citizen Kane: A Review

Although I’ve always heard people talk about the much acclaimed Citizen Kane, I hadn’t actually seen it until last night. In the beginning of the semester, I was only really curious to see whether the all the hype about Citizen Kane was true. And I admit that was still one my goals last night. However, after watching the documentary last week about Orson Welles and William Randolph Hurst, I was really looking forward to watching Citizen Kane with or without the hype.

Well, now that I’ve seen it, I can say that I really did enjoy the story. I think having the background information from the documentary aided in my reasonably high opinion of the story but even without the background, it would be pretty decent. When the movie first started I was pretty skeptical because all the clips I had seen were well into the story and so I was not prepared for the loud voice over narration or the flashing images which were made to look like stock footage. Although I am a fan of the use of the whole flashing stock footage style, I found the narration jarring and I was glad when the film actually got into the story.

I also found Citizen Kane stylistically, very impressive. I particularly liked the scene in which Kane walks past the wall of mirrors as well as the scene when Susan leaves Kane, walking through the long hallway and out the two doors. Although Orson wells didn’t know the rules of cinematography, he certainly broke them well and this adds to the success of the film.

In the end, however, I do think that Citizen Kane’s acclaim is mostly hype. I know that’s a big statement to make considering that it’s topped a number of “greatest films of all time” lists. I also know that a lot of people say it is a film that has to grow on you but I just don’t see that happening to me. I didn’t hate it but I didn’t love it, end of story.



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The Quest to Define Film Noir

Is film noir a distinctively American cinematic drama? Initially I was inclined to answer yes to this question, however as I took a deeper look at film noir over course of our “genre” unit, I now know a great deal more about the origins/history of this period in cinema. Thus, I think this definition needs to be adjusted in order to be more accurate. Instead, I would propose that film noir is an American style of cinematic drama as opposed to a genre. I think it would even be fair to argue that film noir is a subgenre but style still seems like a more accurate description. This is made evident by the wide range of films that fall under the label of film noir One example of this is Blade Runner, which is really more of a Sci-Fi that is stylistically film noir. Another example is Brick, which while it is a modern film noir, would also fall into the crime genre.

I do think that it is fair to define film noir as a distinctively American style of cinema since it started as a response to the disillusionment experienced by Americans after World War II (Schrader). They were tired of “feel good” films that presented an idealist image of life in America. Still, I think it is important to remember that, while film noir is an American style of cinema, it did not just emerge without any outside influences. Film noir was influenced by German Expressionist cinema, a style which moved away from realism by using images or montage in order to convey the internal (i.e. emotion and the human condition) rather that realistic portrayal. (Corrigan and White) This gave German Expressionist cinema a mythic quality; its emphasis was on telling a story in a symbolic manner in order to capture the emotions caused a real event or period in history. Thus, while the emotions conveyed are realistic, the images themselves usually are not.

Film noir also has this mythic quality; the narratives tend to be very dramatic and, at times, farfetched, but the purpose of film noir, the dark style, was more about capturing the cynicism and disenchantment that American’s were attempting to cope with.

Because of its origins, film noir may seem very culturally contextual. Thus, one might wonder why the style keeps coming back in modern films. One would guess that the subsequent generations have experienced similar feelings of disillusionment and cynicism. As a result, they also want films that more accurately represent their experiences.




Corrigan, Timothy, and Patricia White. Film Experience: An Introduction. Boston: Bedford/Saint Martin's, 2004

Schrader, Paul. "Notes on Film Noir." Film Genre Reader III. Ed. Barry Keith Grant. New York: University of Texas P, 2003.

Film Noir

Definition: Film Noir is a style (and arguably a subgenre) of American Cinema, which reached the height of popularity in the late 1940s following WW II. Film Nior tends to include the following stylistic and thematic characteristics:

•Rich Color Contrast (Shades of Black and White)
•Shadow and Light
•Smoke and Fog
•Dark Mood
•Narration and Voice Overs
•Poetic/Dramatic Style of Speech
•Nonlinear Plot: Often Told in Flashbacks and Flash-forwards
•Themes of Disillusionment and/or Corruption
•The Flawed Hero
•Messy Love Stories
•Cigarette Smoking as an Art Form

Film Nior Unit: Touch of Evil

So I’ve been mulling over Touch of Evil for the past few days and I’m still not exactly sure what to think of it. Initially, I wanted to say that I liked Double Indemnity much better, then I thought maybe it was not fair to compare the two since they seem so different—even though they are both film noirs—and now, I'm just not sure at all. If you really put me to it, I guess that I would have to admit that I liked Double Indemnity better. That aside, however, I still think Touch of Evil was a decent film. What I first noticed about Touch of Evil was Welles’ use of interesting camera angles. The low angle shots of Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles) perfectly captured the larger than life presence of Quinlan’s character. I was also very impressed with the rich contract of black and white colors in Touch of Evil. I know this is a signature feature of film noir, but I think the colors in Touch of Evil were among the richer examples I’ve seen in this genre. Touch of Evil had a pretty good story, although I have to admit that I found it quite muddled. In some cases—especially mysteries or perhaps I should say detective movies, such as this one—a muddled plot can add to the suspense and keep the audience guessing. However, in the case of Touch of Evil, I feel that the muddled plot was merely confusing and detracted from the story. I also found Touch of Evil a bit too gimmicky for my liking, particularly, the socially awkward motel night manager. Since this film also featured Janet Leigh, his character made me feel like I was watching a frighteningly bad adaption of Psycho (yes, I do know that Touch of Evil came out two years before Psycho, but still...). His character definitely detracted from an otherwise serious plot. The film would have been much better off without him. So, while I did say that Touch of Evil is a decent film, I think the only thing that really saved it is that I have a ridiculously big place in my heart for hard boiled detective stories.

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Film Nior Unit: Double Indemnity

Since I was one of several in the class who voted film noir for our genre unit, I was definitely looking forward to watching Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity. While I had not seen this film before, I am such a fan of film noir that it was not likely that I would be disappointed…and I wasn’t. Double Indemnity had all the elements you could ask for from a great film noir piece. Obviously Double Indemnity had the amazing visual style, that is, the sharp contract between light and shadows which is central to film noir. Then of course there is the very distinctive style of storytelling and use of language. Although the linguistic style of film noir tends to be very dramatic, which requires a greater level of suspended disbelief I think there is still something honest and realistic in the way the story is told. Sure no one really speaks so figuratively as the characters in a film noir but I think the protagonists use of poetic speech as s/he narrates the story, gives the impression that they are telling letting the viewer in on their most intimate thoughts and feelings. Much of Walter Neff’s narration had this self-disclosing quality. Admittedly a number of his lines were laughably over the top but for the most part I found that the narration allows you to connect with his character and even hope that he will get away with his crimes. I also love way the story is told in a fragmented manner, often revealing the narrative bit by bit through the use of flashbacks. I think this too very realistically captures the way people tell a story. That said, Double Indemnity, as with the other film noirs I have seen, this narrative style makes for a suspenseful story that had me hooked from the start.


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Great Film

So what are the vital components to a “Great” Film? I’ve come up with a list which may continue to grow but here it is for now…

•The Story: first and foremost, a great film must start with a good story. Even some initially unlikable films have majorly redeemed themselves in my eyes just based being a compelling story. In saying that however, that doesn’t mean the story has to be ultra unique. In fact, if we’re really honest with ourselves most stories are draw from a collection of well-known, accepted scripts. Still, a good story is more than just a basic formula; it is the other elements of good storytelling that build on that foundation.

•Attention to detail: in my opinion, one of the elements of a well told story is attention to detail. The difference between a mere movie character and a character who is believable—one that the audience develops an interest in their fate—can be largely based on minor details such as the mannerisms actors employ to get into their characters. An actor could simply go through the script acting out only the behaviors and emotions meant to be conveyed to the audience. However, some go beyond this and add details which may seem nonessential to the plot. My favorite example of this occurs in The Godfather when Don Corleone smells the boutonniere he’s wearing. This action may seem strange and nonsensical to some views but when you consider the juxtaposition of this action to his statement about not being a bunch of murders, the action adds depth to his character. We could just see him as a heartless Don but this action might compromise this assessment of him. Besides the symbolic significance of this action—if you accept it at all—are that it simply makes his character more real because it demonstrates an absent minded behavior, something real people (not characters confined to a script) engage in.

•Good Characters: when I say good characters, I’m referring to a well created/developed character and definitely not referring to his/her moral valor. In fact, I would say that the strength of a great character is far more apparent when the character is flawed—maybe even to the point of being despicable—and yet we still want to everything work out for him/her or at least we find them compelling enough to see the film to the end. The best example of this from the films we’ve watched in class would be Jake LaMotta from Raging Bull. LaMotta is hardly what you’d call a noble character and yet his acting and the fact that he was presented as a real man and not just a boxer made him a compassionate character. Much of the reason I disliked Ran goes back to this same principle; the way Lord Hidetora is betrayed by his sons is very sad but his character didn’t seem to be as well developed as Jake LaMotta. Thus, it was difficult to feel compassion for him though out the entire film. I think the Mise-en-scene in Ran was stunning but Lord Hidetora’s character killed the film for me.

•Quantity vs. Quality: I have no problems watching a long, involved film. In fact, some of my favorite films certainly fit this description. I don’t even mind if some films are a bit slow moving at times. However, there’s nothing worse than a film where the length and/or pace does not reflect how much the filmmaker has to say. Again, this is why I could not get into Ran; I felt that it was unnecessarily draw out. I feel that Ran could have been a great film had Kurosawa be a just a bit more judicious with his editing. Apocalypse Now, on the other hand, seemed to have achieved this balance. Although some people would consider this film just as tedious as Ran, I think that the length of the film brought home Coppola’s message on the insanity of war.

•Emotional Connection: This may sound cheesy (and it kind of goes along with the “good characters” criteria but in my opinion, a great film is one that the audience feels an emotional connection to. A film that allows the audience to forget they are just watching a made up story and really get into the plot, to have a vested interested in the outcome.

•Significance that stands the test of time: For a film to be great, it must have some sort of lasting significance such as a historical or cultural significance. If you look at the AFI’s 100 Years, 100 Movies list, a list that I consider to be quite good, you will see that many of the films have not only made the list, but held their place because there are significant to a large number of people over a long period of time. Casablanca, for instance is one of these great films. Not only is it historically significant in terms of being an archetype of Classic Hollywood film history, but also because its plot deals with significant happenings/issues in world history (ex. Nazi invasion and American neutrality).

•Cinematography, Mise-en-scene, and editing: Good cinematography is a vital component of a great film. Good cinematography can be difficult to define and it tends to be something we notice more when the quality isn’t there than when it is. However, I know just saying “good cinematography” is very ambiguous, so I’ll elaborate: quality lighting is definitely at the top of my list when it comes to quality because it can mean the difference between a film that looks professional and one that looks like a home movie. Seriously, I would be willing to bet that even those horrendous Hallmark, Holiday films would benefit from better lighting. Interesting camera angles are another important element of quality cinematography.
Mise-en-scene: mise-en-scene is something I always considered an important element of a great film and yet I never know there was a word to capture all these features until I took this class. When you break it down that mise-en-scene is the stuff in a scene (scenery/actors/costumes/makeup/props) and cinematography is how that stuff looks, you understand how a perfect marriage of the two is vital in making a great film. From this class, Daughters of the Dust was one of the films that truly made me recognize the importance of these elements, particularly mise-en-scene. As I said in my review of the film, the footage of the island was so beautiful and peaceful that it conveyed how difficult it would be for the family to leave.
Good editing is another element whose absence is more noticeable that its presence. In fact, many people don’t know that editing determines how a story is told including how we feel about particular characters or the story as a whole.

•Finally, a great film is one that is thought provoking; a film that you think about long after the credits roll.


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So I would have to say that Ran is exceptional in that it was the first film we have watched in class this year that I really disliked. When I do not particularly like a film, I usually try to find some aspect of it that I can appreciate but I just could not get into Ran. Early into watching Ran, I thought that I was enjoying it because I found the plot really gripping. Then I remembered that it Ran is an adaptation of King Lear, a story I already enjoy, so it is no wonder it was engrossing. Still, the adaptation was well done, so my overall impression of Ran is that I would have loved it had the film not been so prolonged. However, my main issue with Ran is not simply that it was long—some of my favorite movies are over two hours—but that was so unnecessarily long that it detracted from the film. In my opinion, it is such a shame because Kurosawa’s impressive use of mise-en-scene—especially his use of color in costumes and scenery—was lost as a result of the painfully draw out story.

I feel that Akira Kurosawa tried too hard to emphasize the suffering which resulted from Lord Hidetora’s hubris. Initially I felt a great deal of compassion towards his character. However, as the story drug on, I became so fed up with the film that I ceased caring. I could not feel a connection to his character, only extreme annoyance that he made all the wrong decision. I also felt that I would bash my head against the wall if his jester had one more emotional break down or starting waxing philosophical one more time before the end of the film. Although the theme of the wise fool might work for King Lear, I did not find Kyoami’s speeches profound, only infuriating.

I was also very disappointed by the battle scenes. For the most part, they were well choreographed but they were themselves so draw out that I lost interest. I remember at one point actually laughing because it seemed as though Kurosawa used the same footage of a soldier being shot off his horse over and over for one scene. In any case, I felt battle weary after all these scenes rather than impressed by the choreography.

In saying that, I still have to admit that Kurosawa is a great film maker. His idea to make an adaptation of King Lear was a clever one and his use of colors was brilliant. I only wish I could have appreciated these aspects more but they just could not make up for an overworked story.


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Daughters of the Dust

Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust was certainly an interesting film. While I do not think that I would have rented it and I do not see myself watching it again soon, I do think it was worth seeing at least once even if it’s only for the beautiful scenery. While it may initially seem that the story is overly drawn out, I think the fact that Daughters of the Dust does not follow a linear plotline adds rather than detracts from the story. Admittedly I had trouble following the plot at times but just taking in the beauty of the island and glimpse of the family’s life there—even if I did not understand everything that was going on—strengthened my connection to the story as well as my understanding of the characters’ connection to the island. By the end of the film, I truly understood how difficult it would have been to leave the island, a feeling that I do not think I would have experienced so keenly had Daughters of the Dust been a linear narrative.


Image From: http://dickinsg.intrasun.tcnj.edu/dust/image.html

We'll Always Have Paris

Casablanca is, without a doubt a great story. While it isn't necessarily –in my opinion at least—one of the most cinematographically impressive films, its role as an archetype of an Old Hollywood love story certainly earns the film its place as one of the greatest movies of all time. Also, Casablanca’s criticism of Vichy-control sets it apart from other films. However, whenever I watch Casablanca, I cannot help but wonder if I would have liked the film had I been around to see it in 1942. I am inclined to believe that half the reason I like Casablanca as much as I do is for its somewhat cheesy romantic qualities.

As a love story, Casablanca definitely follows the form of the other love stories of its time. I think this is what secured the film’s initial popularity but the love story really only serves as the premise for a larger story than the lives of the characters themselves. As Rick says, “I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” The depth of the plot, I believe, explains what distinguishes Casablanca from all those other love stories.

Of course it is impossible to talk about the romantic qualities of Casablanca without bringing up Humphrey Bogart. Admittedly, I find him charming and romantic but I’m more swept off my feet by how endearingly cheesy his lines are. But supposedly those lines made women’s hearts skip a beat back in the 40s. It’s important to note, however, that Casablanca may be a little bit dramatic and cheesy now but it was not always so. This may people why we still recognize it as one of the greatest American films ever made.

Another aspect of Casablanca that I like it simply that it is in black and white. In fact, I would never want to watch it “digitally re-mastered in full color” because I think it would take away from the nostalgic feel of the story. However, it is unlikely that you would nostalgic about a film that takes place in the present. Also, for those that saw Casablanca in 1942, watching black and white films was not a novel experience.

Again, Casablanca is an excellent film because it captures the essence of Old Hollywood loves stories and yet its dynamic plot distinguishes it from other films of its time.

Raging Bull: An Example of Stellar Editing

Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull is more than just a good story. Rather, it is a film which demonstrates just how vital editing is to capturing the essence of a scene both in what is actually happening in the scene as well as the emotions it elicits.

While there are many examples that capture the powerful utilization of editing in Raging Bull, some of the best take place in the boxing ring. Although, for a movie about a boxer, there are not that many boxing sequences, the few that occur are exceptional. Among these, one the best occurs during Jake LaMatts's climatic fight with Sugar Ray Robinson. That is, the scene in which LaMatta loses his title.

One impressive element of editing in this scene is the cutting of the scenes in order to enhance the speed of the fight. As Sugar Ray begins to get the advantage in the fight, the series of punches he throws are achieved by several short cuts which seem to be sped up in order to capture the intensity of the blows LaMatta receives. This is followed by an incredible interesting use of slow motion shots which definitely add to the suspense of the scene. As LaMatta is pinned to the ropes, Sugar Ray advances toward him in slow motion. The viewer knows that LaMatta is about to get pounded and that there is nothing he can do to prevent it. The slow motion continues as Sugar Ray throws the first jarring punch, knocking the sweat off LaMatta's body. After this the scene alternates between slow motion and high speed punches. The intensity of the fight emphasized even more as the shots rapidly cut to extreme close ups of LaMatta's face, his wife anguishing in the audiences, the blood pouring down his legs, etc.

LaMatta’s last fight—and all the boxing scenes for that matter—are unique from other boxing films due to Scorsese’s insistence on editing the scene in such a way that the audience feel like fighters in the ring rather than spectators to the fight. For most of the scene, we see the boxer who is taking the punches rather than both Lamatta and Sugar Ray throwing punches at each other. This adds to the intimacy and engagement with the film that surpasses what happens outside of the boxing ring. In other words, the editing has a way of connecting one with LaMatta's character so that one roots for him in spite of his glaring personality flaws.

Raging Bull certainly is not what you'd call a "feel-good movie" but that does not mean it is devoid of emotion. In fact, the editing is used so masterfully that it is possibly one of the most emotional expressive films I have ever seen.

Take a look for yourself...

Raging Bull

Last night in film class we watched Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull. I really enjoyed the film, which was not much of a surprise considering I’m a fan of Scorsese films. You could then ask why this is the first time I’ve seen Raging Bull, but you won’t…

I definitely through the editing in Raging Bull was exceptional. I loved the way slow motion shots were used to enhance the boxing sequences. I also loved the way Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker styled the boxing to look like black and white photographs out of Life Magazine. There’s something very romantic and nostalgic about 1940s style boxing.

However, I think that I would like to watch this film again in order to focus solely on the editing. Last night, I found myself taken by the other elements of the film such as the [largely] improvisational dialogue and the cinematography. I know that Raging Bull is a biographical film but both these elements made the story even more believable and intimate.

It’s important to mention, however, that I was much more enchanted by the first half of the film. While Jake LaMotta’s personal life was far from perfect, I found the latter half—where Jake really starts to degenerate—almost too sad to enjoy the rest of the film. Nevertheless, I would have to say that, in the end, the editing, dialogue, cinematography, and overall engaging story win out, making Raging Bull a film worth watching again and again.


Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29185076@N05/2735155855/

Jean-Luc Godards’s Breathless certainly made for an interesting film watching experience. It was not very far into the film—the scene where Michel Poiccard is complaining about the traffic—that I was dreading having to watch it through to the end. True, Breathless is only 90 minutes long but I thought it was going to be 90 minutes of Godard’s annoyingly avant-garde muse. It was not the film’s unconventional (for its time) editing that bothered me. I actually really enjoyed the editing style and had no trouble following the plot. The issue was that the quality lighting and filming seemed poor, which initially made it difficult for me to get into the film. As the story progressed, however, I definitely got caught up. As roguish as he is, I did fall for Michel Poiccard’s charm. In spite of that fact that he’s somewhat of a scoundrel and in spite of that fact that I know French movies often do not have happy endings, by the end of the film, I was rooting for Michel. I wanted to see him escape and I wanted Patricia to run away with him to Italy. Even though I did not get the happy ending I hoped for, I was happy that, after she ratted him out to the police, Michel's last words were to tell Patricia that she was a scumbag. Although the editing style of Breathless is no longer unique, the story itself certainly is. I am not sure whether the lighting and filming seemed to improve as the film went or whether I become so engrossed in the story that I forgot to notice. In any case, my initial reaction to the film proved incorrect as I was eventually very wrapped up in the fates of Michel and Patricia. I found that the editing, and subsequently, the story are easy to follow as long as you are willing to engage with the film and place yourself in the character’s positions.


Image from: i265.photobucket.com/.../jagfilm/breathless.jpg

In Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing, there are numerous examples of props being used instrumentally, metaphorically, culturally, and contextually. The most poignant example of prop usage is the metaphorical significance of Radio Raheem’s radio. Throughout the film, the radio distinguishes Radio Raheem’s character. However, it is not until the end of the film that one realizes how essential to the plot Raheem, and particularly his radio, will be. In this sense, the radio is the opposite of the money In Hitchcock's Psycho, which strings the viewer along only to be completely nonessential to the plot in the end. One could argue that the radio is a metaphorical prop through the entire film. However, its metaphorical significance is only realized after Sal smashes it. The silence of this scene often tricks viewers because they think that the dramatic smashing of the radio will cause the characters to snap back to reality and/or recognize that the pettiness of their argument is rooted in something bigger and deeper; the struggle between love and hate that Raheem mentions earlier in the film. One quickly realizes that this is not the case almost before Sal finishes his sentence. Instead, Sal’s comment about “killing” Raheem’s radio denotes that Raheem himself is also going to be killed. Even if one initially misses the foreshadowing behind this line—and also the destruction of the radio—it comes back to haunt you after Raheem’s death. Spike Lee’s use metaphorical use of the radio in Do the Right Thing is so profound because shocks the viewer and propels the narrative forward to the climax of the film.


Image from: bp1.blogger.com/.../XS6N1NpNdGI/s320/raheem.jpg

I have not seen many Spike Lee films. In fact, I think Do the Right Thing was his first early film that I’ve actually seen. Thus, going into the experience, I was somewhat skeptical because I know that many of his films receive a great deal of criticism from individuals who believe they only reinforce negative African American stereotypes. I did end up enjoying Do the Right Thing but I can understand where these critics are coming from. I know it is not Spike Lee’s intention to promote stereotypes, Do the Right Thing just requires an audience that is willing to think critically about the film’s true message. The whole time I was watching the film, I kept thinking about how the message of Do the Right Thing would totally backfire if someone watching this film wants to relate to or take sides with a particular character such as Radio Raheem or Sal. For this reason, I was really happy that Spike Lee included the quotes of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X in the final credits. As long as the audience understands the message, the film is ingenious. I loved the way the lighting captured intensity of the heat. The way the plot seems to drag also adds to the sense of rising tensions which explodes into the shocking and violent climax. Finally, I thought it was very clever that the morning after the riot, the scene opens to a day that is just as hot and intense as the previous morning. This demonstrates how the community is no closer to resolving their hate. So, while I can understand critics’ concerns, the fact that Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing is so real and unapologetic, challenges stereotypes and hate rather than reinforces them.


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The Role of Mise-en-scene in The Godfather

There’s nothing worse than a book or film with one-dimensional characters. Not only are they incredibly unrealistic, but the whole time you feel as though you are being told what to think and feel about that particular character. Naturally, not all the characters in The Godfather are explored as deeply as others, yet, none of them seem like flat characters. Vito Corleone, for instance, is the protagonist which seems to guarantee that he will not be one-dimensional. However, the fact that he is the head of an Italian crime family has the potential to make him a flat, unsympathetic character. Thanks to the aid of mise-en-scene, (staging/design elements) Vito Corleone is more than just a Don, he’s a husband, father, a grandfather and in some respects, a regular man.

Throughout the entire film the subtle details of Mise-en-scene portray Vito Corleone in a way that seems classy and even sympathetic; it is easy to forget the nature of his work. Thus, it was difficult to narrow down one scene in which the Mise-en-scene does not contribute greatly to the depth of his character. However, the scene where Vito Corleone dies is one of the best examples because the mise-en-scene also conveys the change that has occurred in his life. At the end of the opening scene, after Vito agrees to help Bonasera, he states, “Give this to, uh, Clemenza. I want reliable people, people who aren't going to be carried away. After all we're not murderers in spite of what this undertaker thinks.” Even at the end of the film, after all he has done, this line is still believable. Much of this is due to the costume’s Vito wears. Throughout most of the film, Vito is attired in a tuxedo or the classic mobster suit; this gives him that classy, gentlemanlike look. At the end of his life, however, Vito wears flannel shirts and corduroys which demonstrate that he is getting older and make him appear very sympathetic. Like the early scene in the film where Vito is gunned down in the street, this look conveys that although he is a powerful, respected man, he is not invincible.

The scenery is also very important. Unlike the close, private business that takes place in the Corleone home, Vito is playing with his young grandson, Anthony in the tomato garden when he experiences the heart attack. Although this scene is quiet and intimate, the fact that it is outdoors and that the tomatoes are still green and growing gives the scene a great deal of liveliness. The open space and movement is a complete departure from the scenes which take place in the office.

Another important element of this part is who is present in the scene as well as who is not. In most scenes, Vito is surrounded by Sonny, Michael, Tom, etc. In this scene, however, Vito is alone with Anthony. The viewer may be subtly reminded that Vito is a powerful and dangerous man as he playfully scares Anthony with the “orange peel fangs” and chases him around the yard. Yet the overall image of him playing with his grandson probably leaves the viewer with sympathetic view of him. This is another scene which that hints that Vito is a regular man who loves his family.

The carefulattention paid to mise-en-scene in The Godfather is critical to the film, particularly the character development of Vito Coleone. Without such clever and subtle detail, he would have been an unrealistic, unsympathetic character which a viewer might judge solely on his role as a Don.



Picture from: http://daily.greencine.com/archives/the-godfather.jpg

The Godfather

It’s no surprise that The Godfather and Apocalypse Now are both Coppola films. His style and gift for story telling are what make both films legendary. While I have to admit that The Godfather is more of a favorite for me than Apocalypse now, the reasons I appreciate both films and Coppola’s work in general, are fairly similar. As I started in my previous post, Coppola films are amazing because they are jam-packed with detail and activity yet the story is cohesive and well told.

First of all, I love The Godfather simply because the story is engrossing. True, it is a long film but it never seems to drag on or include scenes that should have been left on the cutting room floor.

As I said before, detail is another aspect of the film that I greatly appreciate. The details which make up Don Vito Corleone's character are particular favorites. I love that he has his cat in his lap while talking “business” and the way he smells his corsage. These are just little details but they really add to his character. I also like the way that after action/shooting sequences, the scene will cut to Vito in his office saying “humph” or something to that effect.

Not only is there a great deal of detail in this film, there is also a great deal of activity. Almost every scene is filled with people, events, and objects. Connie Corleone’s wedding scene, for instance, is absolutely packed with guests and the activities that they are engaged in. It is as though there is no room left in the frame. It is also impressive that parts of this story take place in New York, Sicily and Las Vagas and yet this does not fragment the plot or make it too confusing.

These are the elements that make The Godfather one for the books. Coppola’s gift truly is in telling a story with tons of detail, layers, and activitiy that do not detract, but actually add to the plot.





picture borrowed from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Godfather

"I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning"

One of the greatest element’s of Apocalypse Now is how the cinematography and the characters complement each other. The best example of this can be seen in Col. Kilgore’s famous “I love the smell of napalm in the morning” speech. Prior to this scene, Kilgore is around a bonfire with his soldiers drinking beer. Willard introduces the viewer to Kilgore with his very perceptive description of Kilgore’s personality:

“Well, he wasn't a bad officer, I guess. He loved his boys and you felt safe with him. He was one of those guys that had that weird light around him. You just knew he wasn't gonna get so much as a scratch here.”

Willard’s description proves true during this scene, but even more so in the scene where Kilgore has taken the city and is preparing to go out and surf. The way in which the camera captures Kilgore conveys that he is great and powerful. He is captured in a low angle shot in which he stands and his “boys” surround him. Often in films shots like this suggest that the character is intimidating or looming over everyone else. While these characteristics are true of Kilgore’s character, the way his boys look up at him and the way he couches down to their level prove Willard’s point that, “he loved his boys and you felt safe with him.”

One could argue that the yellow smoke around him represents the “weird light” Willard describes. The yellow smoke also remind the viewer of the battle that has just taken place. It also coincides beautifully with Kilgore’s explanation that the smell of napalm is synonymous with the smell of victory. The long shot captures Kilgore as he crouches there. He is surrounded by the yellow cloud and the view of the city he has just taken. He is essentially sitting in the middle of victory.

Finally, the scene ends with Kilgore noting that, “someday this war will be over.” The most profound aspect of this line is how Kilgore gets choked up immediately after delivering it. Not because he’s seen a great deal of pain but because he is a warlord; he lives and breathes war. While all the other characters are completely destroyed by war, Kilgore is torn up by the thought of it ending. After this, he stands to his feet and walks off camera. The viewer is left with another excellent contrast between Kilgore and Willard as Willard sits up and watches him leave. The astonished look on Willard’s face is classic.

In regards to film analysis, Col. Kilgore’s napalm speech is one of the best scenes in the film because it demonstrates how cinematography can be used to capture the essence of a character. In the previous scene, Willard provides an excellent description of Col. Kilgore. This description is fantastically emphasized in the napalm scene by the cinematography which seems to, point by point, prove Willard’s assessment.

What does one say about a film that makes napalm and purple haze look beautiful and yet still takes a critical view of war? How does one unpack a story with so much detail? I’m not exactly sure but I’ll try…

Last night was not my first experience with Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now but it was the first time I’ve watched it from beginning to end. My immediate reaction was that I was overwhelmed at how masterfully this story was told. I was impressed that a film could contain so much detail in regards to cinematography, lighting, characters, style, scenery, etc. and yet it all comes together in a great, cohesive narrative. What’s more, all these elements combined create a mood that I’ve never experienced in any other “war movie.” For now, however, I’d just like to focus on a few of these elements.

For one thing, I loved the way Coppola used background noise to create mood. Whether it was the sound helicopters, gunfire, or voices of people yelling and crying, the incessant background noise created a tension about the film. It was not till about halfway through that I realized that this was what made me recognize that tension. Another element of the film that greatly impressed me was how much depth of personality was conveyed through the characters. As a result, they were not just some group of soldiers they can be lumped together. They were not five of the same guys fighting the same war during which time four of them would receive “Dear John” letters and the fifth one would die in some epically emotional scene because, well, his girlfriend was actually waiting for him to come home. On the contrary, the fact that these men were fighting together did not immediately unite them. Nor did they discard the person they were before the war. The first scene on the boat is a great example of this: there’s Tyrone “Mr. Clean” Miller, (Lawrence Fishburne) who pretty much just wants to be the seventeen year old boy he is. Then there is “Chef” (Fredrick Forrest) the terrified man who would probably rather be home cooking. And Lance Johnson, (Sam Bottoms) the famous surfer from Cali who still surfers, sunbathes, and abuses drugs while serving in the war. Clearly none of these men what to be soldiers; they are a stark contrast with Martin Sheen’s character Captain Willard who has committed himself to a potentially hopeless mission.

So many elements of Apocalypse Now create a unique mood, especially for a film of this genre. However, the use of background noise and the roles of the characters were what impressed me the most. The juxtaposition of the other soldiers with Captain Willard is brilliant. It is, at times, somewhat comical but overall it is very profound. Some scenes can be terrible while many others are amusing or even beautiful and yet one does not miss Coppola’s criticism of war.

Apocalypse Now Movie Photo [Captin Willard]. Digital image. Http://www.flickr.com. 6 Aug. 2006. Paramount Pictures. <http://www.flickr.com/photos/divxplanet/2739408457/>.

Presentation and Representation In The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Narrowing down one scene of Julian Schnabel’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly in order to examine the cinematography was not an easy process. The Film is, after all a cinematic masterpiece. Originally, I wanted to discuss my favorite part; the restaurant scene. However, after watching the film a second time I was struck by the unique style of the scene in which Jean-Do describes the power of imagination. In The Film Experience: An Introduction, Corrigan and White explain the two primary values of images. Firstly, images “present the world as a true record of events, people, and places.” Secondly, images “represent the world for us in a way that suggests specific meanings or interpretations of those events, people, and places" (Corrigan & White, 98). In The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Jean-Do’s description of imagination brings about a drastic switch from presentation to representation. As Corrigan and White point out, switching from presentation to representation often changes the way the audience views a film. With presentation they are caught up in the plot then, a representation occurs which causes them to realize they are watching a film. However, the genius of this scene is found in Schnabel’s use of stock footage and photographs to demonstrate how Jean-Do constructs his imaginary world yet; it still allows the audience to smoothly return to the actual events of Jean-Do’s life.

Up until this point in the film, the audience has been, almost exclusively, limited to Jean-Do’s point of view. We feel his sadness and frustration since we too are essentially trapped in his paralyzed body. All this changes, however, when Jean-Do begins to exercise his imagination. The audience is immediately thrust out of the reality of Jean-Do’s situation into the world he creates for himself. The first part of this switch opens with a sequence of stock footage starting with a butterfly emerging from its cocoon; a clear symbol of Jean-Do’s escape via imagination. The butterfly footage begins as an extreme close up shot only to burst into long shots of nature, Jean-Do as an amazing athlete, Jean-Do as a devilishly handsome man, and Jean-Do with beautiful women. The fact Schnabel that used stock footage is essential because it reminds the audience that these images are purely imaginational. These images are not even memories of Jean-Do’s actual experiences. Rather, the audience is to assume that he is constructing this world using bits and pieces of films and television programs. The Beach scene in particular shows Jean-Do placing himself into the famous kiss/beach scene from Fred Zinnemann’s From Here to Eternity.

The representational value of this scene becomes ever more apparent when the stock footage of various long shots taper off into documentary style, still shots of Jean-Do. This part is somewhat less representational than the stock footage due to the fact that the still shots depict actual moments of Jean-Do’s life. Nevertheless, photographs are still representations since they are highly selective glimpses of an individual’s life. In other words, photographs are generally limited to portions of our lives that we wish to record. Also, the photographs of Jean-Do are representations because they show the life that he no longer has since the cardiovascular accident. Towards the completions of this scene, the still shots begin to flash across the screen until all that the audience is left with is the jarring first glimpse of Jean-Do’s distorted face. The scene has now come full circle, returning to the presentational images of Jean-Do. While the beginning of this scene showcases the power of Jean-Do’s imagination, the end reminds the audience how devastatingly difficult it must be for him to be content with his imagination as the only means of mobility.

The success of the imagination scene and arguably, the entire film rests greatly on Schnabel’s ingenious use of cinematography. Switching between presentation to representation is an effective way to get the viewer to observe and analyze the narrative rather than just being absorbed in it. Yet, there seems to be a risk that the viewer will completely disconnect from the film. Schnabel, however, gets it right by using stock footage and photographs which are stylistically different from the presentational images. Thus, the audience grasps that these represent Jean-Do’s Imagination. He is also successful because he brings the audience back to reality with the close up shot of Jean-Do’s face, making this transition a fluid one.

Corrigan, Timothy, and Patricia White. Film Experience: An Introduction. Boston: Bedford/Saint Martin's, 2004

Le Scaphandre Et Le Papillon / The Diving Bell And The Butterfly. Digital image. Flickr.com. Pathé Renn Productions. <http://www.flickr.com/photos/latelierdejacques/2314560836/>.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: An Initial Reaction

Despite that The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was emotionally difficult to watch, I’m definitely glad I did. What impressed me most about this film was that Julian Schnabel seemingly let the story speak itself and used the cinematography to convey the emotion of the plot. Considering this is a true story, I glad that Schnabel recognized that the narrative did need emotional embellishment. I loved that Schnabel filmed the movie in such a way that the audience is forced to see the world from Jean Do’s obstructed point of view. As I result, I didn’t just feel sad for this man, I truly understood his frustration, pain, and dispair.

I was impressed that Schnabel not only achieved this through the extreme close up shots of Jean Do’s limited vision when communicating with others, but also the wide shots of the outdoors which, captured his inability move around on the beach, terrace, etc. If the cinematography was not enough to capture the Jean Do’s feelings, the illustration of the deep-sea diving suit was pretty ingenious.

However, my favorite aspect of the film was the flashbacks of Jean-Do’s life before the cardiovascular accident. I found the scene in the convertible and scene of Jean Do walking down the street at night particularly beautiful. The music that accompanied these scenes was always loud and fun and the scenes all have an exhilarating quality even when what was going on was fairly mundane. Obviously Jean Do’s life as editor of Elle magazine might not seem mundane to everyone. Yet, I felt the scenes were meant to demonstrate fun, happy moments (and even sad ones) in life that we don’t fully realize their significance until they are distant memories. The movement and life of his flashbacks when contrasted with the hospital scenes were very powerful.

Again, this movie was difficult to watch especially since I did not really know anything about the movie going into it other than the fact that it was a sad story. Admittedly I got choked up a few times and barely made it through the scene where his father calls on the phone. Nevertheless, it was worth the watch.

You're So (Not) Money Baby

(image from: www.cinemastrikesback.com/.../psycho19984.jpg)

After watching Gus Van Sant's 1998 version of Psycho I have to say I feel ambivalent. Going into the experience I had already made up my mind that I was going to hate the remake but it actually didn’t turn out as bad I as expected which really annoyed me because I’m super stubborn so I wanted to hate it. Midway through, however, I found myself able to appreciate certain aspects of the film and the different ways that Van Sant interpreted scenes or details as well as the ways that the actors interpreted their roles. The “shower scene” in particular was a positive. Still, in the end I have to go with my old friend, Alfred Hitchcock.

I definitely have a love/hate relationship with the casting of the film and by that I mean I hated the casting of Viggo Mortensen as Sam (sorry Gracie). The original Sam (John Gavin) had that suave, sexy, and somewhat of a dog persona that fit the role perfectly. It seems like a role for Matthew McConaughey not Viggo Mortensen. I thought Anne Hache was a clever choice for a modernized Marion Crane. Her hairstyle and wardrobe captured Marion’s dual personality. Then we have Vince Vaughn as Norman Bates, a strange choice for the role. It almost seems like they intentionally chose someone completely different from Anthony Perkins in order to discourage comparisons. Or perhaps Van Sant thought modern audiences would expect the villain to be more overtly threatening or creepy. At times the clash between Vaughn's manly appearance and boyish behavior worked well. Overall however, his lack of subtlety gives him away prematurely. He pulled off the role but doesn’t have look to master it. I half expected him to tell Marion that she’s “so money baby” (Swingers, 1996).


While I feel slightly disloyal to Hitchcock, I liked the remake version of the "shower scene" better than the original. Although I will qualify that by saying that had I been alive to see Psycho in 1960, I’m sure my response would be very different. The original is masterfully done but by the time I was old enough to see Psycho, I had seen it parodied so often that it unfortunately couldn’t have as profound an effect. What I liked about the 1998 shower scene is that Van Sant didn’t throw the baby out with the bath water (no pun intended). That is, he kept the details that make the shower scene so iconic while toning down the parts that have been tainted by years of parody. I was also impressed that Van Sant didn’t go over the top with the blood and gore even though he could have.

With the exception of the "shower scene," my overall reaction to Psycho (1998) couldn’t go beyong appreciation for the aspects of the film that Van Sant got right. Even though he kept the original screenplay and style of the film the two still feel completely different. Part of me wants to say hands down that I love the 1960 version over the remake and I do. But then again it’s like comparing apples and oranges. I guess if I had to compare the two the best way to explain it is that I love Hitchcock’s Psycho and I find Van Sant’s, tolerable. One thing is clear; Hitchcock’s Psycho is a work of art that can be appreciated by connoisseurs and novices alike. I don’t believe that the same could not be said of the remake. Also, a huge part of the reason I’m so impressed by the original is due to Anthony Perkin’s performance. It’s one of the best performances I’ve seen period. Norman Bates just isn’t Norman Bates without Perkins and Psycho isn’t Psycho without Norman Bates.

Psycho (1960) : Standing the Test of Time

When analyzing Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, it is necessary to examine what made it such a box office success in its day as well as whether the film makes just as powerful impression on today’s audiences. If, like me, you answer yes to the latter, then perhaps you will also agree that the answers to both these questions can be traced to four key elements. That is, what truly makes Psycho one for the books can be traced to the film's solid plot, cinematic style, superb acting, and, the subtle use of horror.

Under different circumstances, Psycho could very well have become a victim of Joel Hodgson’s Mystery Science Theater 3000 [1]or just some B-movie we rent for a laugh. Instead, Psycho is recognized as a significant work in the history of American film. Psycho is, after all, on the American Film Institute’s (AFI) 100 Year...100 Movies list[2]. Clearly, Psycho’s strong, captivating plot and stunning cinematography played a critical role in it making the list.

For me, however, Hitchcock’s greatest achievement in Psycho is the acting. Anthony Perkins’s (Norman Bates) performance in particular is sheer genius. Till the very end Perkins instills fear and suspicion in the audience yet, he never gives himself away. In fact, I would go as far as to say that even if the plot and technique were not as strong as they are, Perkins’s performance would still carry the Film.

Finally, it seems safe to say that most individuals who have seen their share of horror/thrillers will agree: many horror films, especially more contemporary ones, rely too heavily on violent and graphic images rather than allowing the viewer’s imagination contribute to the intended impact of a particularly chilling scene or the film as a whole. In other words, subtly is that fine line between mere shock value and a truly frightening scene. Apparently our friend Alfred Hitchcock knew this as well, which is why Psycho, even with its 1960s special effects, surpasses many of today’s popular horror/thrillers.



[1] Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K): Joel Hodgson’s 1988 comedy television series which was “always about one thing: making fun of bad movies” Cornell, Chris & Henry, Brian. "Mystery Science Theater 3000 FAQ." www.mst3kinfo.com. 1992. Best Brains Inc. .

[2] "AFI'S 100 Years...100 Movies." www.afi.com. 2008. American Film Institute. .