Politics and Hollywood

Like many in the Twitterphere, I was amused by Clint Eastwood’s apparent one-man show of Harvey during last night’s Republican National Convention.  His duel of words with an invisible President left many, myself included, as speechless as his “Man With No Name” character.  No matter how cognizant “Dirty Harry’s” speech could have been, it’s obvious that Washington needs Hollywood more than they need them.  Also, the playing ground is not as imbalanced as one would suspect.

It seems that the moment celebrities became audible on celluloid, audiences clamored to hear anything they said off or on camera.  Their influence, though not as potent as their films, retain a titanic hold on the opinions of the average citizens.  Even non-US political figures greeted entertainers with open arms.  Civil rights leaders like Gandhi and the Dali Lama got starstruck just like the rest of us.  During the 1950s and 60s, Martin Luther King was no stranger to the companionship of Sidney Poitier, Charlton Heston, or the reclusive Marlon Brando.  And of course, there is Ronald Reagan, who remains a prime example of how far the power of celebrity can carry a person.   

Probably the most striking bit of Hollywood influence was the rumored election mangling by JFK “bff” Frank Sinatra who made the trailing Democrat candidate an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Obviously the Democrats have the upper-hand when it pertains to face value, but tough guys like Clint, Bruce, and Arnold pack on more “tough guy” muscle value than many of the Democrat’s army of pampered, delicate, nurturing man-boy faces in their own stable.  Perhaps the Republicans’ biggest icon (long before Reagan was a household name) was the legend: John Wayne, who epitomized the original glorified message of the red with The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance when he uttered, “Out here a man handles his own problems…”  Although…both Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney were Democrats who defied conventional wisdom that the man’s men were always colored in red.  And the lines between Democrats and Republicans are different when our heroes were cowboys and gangsters instead of superheros and giant robots.

Personally, I’m tired of seeing Hollywood on either side of the line.  Their opinions only count based on the feeble”Inside Edition” inspired narrow-mindedness.  There are plenty of celebrities who have the time and money to devote their energies to noble causes within the political spectrum.  Some have even accumulated a great deal of worldly knowledge and intelligence to earn time on the airwaves.  Sometimes they are simply paid stool pigeons meant to sway opinions of the impressionable movie-loving audience.      

I believe Clint Eastwood was brought on center stage as a mean of instilling that “John Wayne” message into the hearts and minds of viewing American public.  Instead, he kind of looked like grandpa talking to a chair that had been long abandoned by his bored grandson.  When Obama rallies his own (much larger) army of elite, hopefully, he will spare the embarrassment of drafting Alec Baldwin to do his introduction.  If so, he’s no less entitled the same amount of ridicule.

In this case, I know that Clint is conservative when it pertains to government intervention and budgetary spending (he was a mayor in the 80s).  He also bends to the left when it pertains to social welfare and issues.  When it pertains to his cinematic stamp, Clint remains a hero of mine.  I’ll continue to love his movies and his work.  But like Bogart, Christopher Reeve and even my slowly growing man-crush on Ryan Gosling (common, he’s definitely a good-looking man and talented.  Drive is a classic folks.), my love for them is reserved for how they manipulate my emotions in front of a movie camera–not a news camera.  And I wouldn’t give stock to Clint’s rambling remarks, which came from a man who looked flattered to be there…and possibly get paid.  But inevitably, he’s never been good at “acting” outside the realms of what he thinks and believes.  He sounded much more convincing when he said, “Make my day” on my DVD. 

Staring at a blank screen…

I think I can surmise why movies may lose, can lose and will lose their magic: Age!  Nothing inside my dust-filled shell of a brain compares to the infinite imagination of a child–a world of wonder swirling from morning to dusk; from waking hour up to the very second before a movie hits the screen.  In the 1980s, during my pinnacle status of childhood empowerment, movie-going was routine.  My mother and I would arrive early in the afternoon when the crowds were tepid, sit in the dark…and stare at a black, empty screen.  When we weren’t engaged in discussion, my head would conjure a wave of ideas and predictions–usually pertaining to the film I was about to watch.  Oh, how I miss being bored sometimes.  

The excitement would build with each passing minute while the large screen glared back with one giant white void.  Suddenly, without much warning (sometimes the lights would dim seconds before) the screen sprang to life.  I would recompose my full attention and soak in the plethora of previews and, finally, the main attraction.  Today, kids who arrive early to the cinema have little opportunity to ponder or talk.  There are simply too many distractions.  In fact, there are so many that viewers are in danger of forgetting what they came to see in the first place. 

Most theater chains now want to engage audiences well before the show begins.  Even before they find a seat, they’re engulfed with information.  When staring at utter blankness was no longer in vogue, multiplexes first unveiled quiet, leisurely-paced slide shows filled with movie trivia and complemented by light music.  It was actually a nice distraction, especially if you didn’t feel conversational–or sat alone.  If you were quiet enough, you could even hear the faint clicking of the slide projector as cute cartoon animals quizzed you on the identity of faces in before-and-after photos of famous people.  

But now theaters use the film’s prelude as an opportunity to cash in on a captive audience and unload numerous advertisements for television shows and products.  If you want to beat the opening-weekend rush, you will be penalized with a nauseating amount of unrelated media.  The best multiplex for this is the Regal Cinema which not only offers a long-winded series of infomercials, but even concludes with a re-review montage.  You would think you were being tested later.

Initially I had expressed no displeasure.  However, now that I’ve soaked in hundreds of television show previews and armed services ads, I began to recognize the issues.

For one, if you’re going to shelve an uninterrupted wave of media down my throat, why must it be unrelated ads?  Pure financial gain.  In fairness, theaters only make a small fraction of ticket sales (especially during the coveted opening weekend).  The ad time comes at the expense of the audience.  We aren’t spared one red cent.  Thankfully, the ads have been pushed back to conclude at the scheduled showtime.  I guess we should be grateful that the ads no longer eat up 20 minutes after our expected start time.  Ah hem. 

This protocol is not new.  During the golden age of cinema (birth to 1960s), films were always preceded by a live action short, newsreels and at least one cartoon.  Imagine going to see a comedy and being treated to a Little Rascals or a Bugs Bunny included in the admission price.  Some of these were so popular that they actually were the chief reason why film-goers purchased a ticket.

Such bonuses still exist, albeit in kiddie fare, where a bonus cartoon is usually offered.  I would argue that Pixar’s long-kept traditional bonus short is one of many reasons the brand has become ingratiated in the public conscience.  It’s unfortunate these little bonuses aren’t afforded to more adult-oriented fare, but with films already running well over two hours, that aint happenin’. 

Leave it to Pixar to entertain us with something special before the actual movie

My real complaint comes from my own, admittedly, out-dated romantic perception of movies–their romantic, magical, ethereal quality.  Sitting and, more importantly, waiting added a sense of something special looming on the horizon.  I remember my delight when the screen suddenly came alive with images.  The lights would dim.  The show was starting!  It’s the same rush you may feel as you waiting for a Broadway Show to begin, which, as far as I know, doesn’t include any advertisements–unless you read the playbill.

Today’s theatrical experience feels more like you’re walking into somebody else’s living room: The TV is already on, the owner is watching something you don’t care about, and the remote is far out of your reach.  There’s no build to any excitement.  There are even moments when I don’t immediately know that the actual feature has begun until the title literally rolls across the screen.  After seeing five WB logos, I had to ask my wife and friends if this was Harry Potter or the ad for the video game tie-in.   

I understand that theaters would struggle without the added revenue of advertisements, but why not make ads geared towards the actual film?  No one ever complains about seeing trailers.  Why not defer back on the original slideshow format and squeeze in a Reese’s peanutbutter cup logo onto an occasional slide?  It wouldn’t be my ideal precursor to a theatrical experience, but I’m willing to make compromises for the Iphone/Youtube generation.

This constant stimulation seems to be an appeasement geared mainly for children.  Perhaps the reason family fare does continuously big business is that parents recognize the distraction factor the moment they unload the weight of two toddlers and a respectable 72 oz soda and popcorn from their tired arms.  But I’ve never seen one child content with watching a Sprite commercial without offering a petty, premature version of Mystery Science Theater 3000.  I actually don’t mind overhearing their vehement obsession over the upcoming Spongebob video game, but I’m sure the parents were hoping for a half hour of sanity on top of an appealing seating position.  Also, given that the kiddies are not discouraged from talking during the 30-minute ad precursor, it’s understandable when they feel puzzled once they’re ordered to suddenly shut up when The Amazing Spider-Man plays.  God forbid the parents would want to talk to their tots during the tranquil moments beforehand or condition their little munchkins to become instantly laconic once images and sounds emote from the magical screen in front of them.

Just to show you how obsessive I can be, when I purchased the Ben Hur special edition on DVD, I began the four-hour epic at the Entr’acte’.  Let me explain: Some of the big scale movie epics–generally from 1950-1960–included musical interludes which include an overture, and intermission and exit music, which played while spectators entered and exited.  Sometimes directors would give special attention to when and how the music should play.  Director David Lean specified when the theater was permitted to pull the screen curtain back during the opening music for Lawrence of Arabia.  These kinds of little details were part of the movie experience. 

For Ben Hur, I played the disc at Chapter 1 and just sat and stared at a blank screen for five or six minutes and just let the music flow over me.  (If you peeked inside my window, you would say I was blind.)  When the credits finally began–I sat and absorbed another four minutes of nothing but credit and classical tunes.  You know what? I think it actually enhanced the experience.  I felt deeply involved in the film. 

Prologues enhance certain films.  Imagine Star Wars without the long-quiet pause between “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” and the title’s sudden appearance.  There’s also the three paragraph crawl across the screen.  John Williams’ score immediately preps you for what’s ahead.  Before the star destroyer even rampages across the screen, you’re in the movie.  

I know I’m the weird one and most groups would feel more comfortable with something happening in the background.  But I believe folks were meant to converse before and after the film without any additional distractions.  The barrage of ads (which are very loud by-the-way) make conversation extremely difficult.  Sometimes they will sway the discussion to address to the actual ads themselves.  I always talk and I’ve never ever heard any neighboring film-goer complain for being unable to hear the ads.  We simply don’t want them!

Perhaps the best distraction I ever experienced is at the Carolina Theatre in Durham, NC.  Every other Friday, director Jim Carl presents a double feature.  Both films are preempted by a series of clips from movies of our youth.  Some of the films are not classics or recognizable, but they instill a sense of nostalgia; a mood that’s pertinent to the event.  He also offers introductions and door prizes.  It gets the audience involved and serves as a reminder that movies are fun, safe and a collective experience that’s a different breed from our living room high definition televisions.  And the experience looks just as grand when the film finally flickers across that beautiful black screen. 

Video Pick: Bernie

Bernie Tiede was a resident of the small community of Carthage, Texas: an assistant funeral director who thrived on giving pleasure to his family, friends and the community.  They loved him back, even the town bitch: the rich and elderly Marjorie Nugent.  Bernie soon charms her with his unadulterated attention and companionship.  The two take extravagant world-trips and high-living vacations.  Having no loving family members, Marjorie eventually bequeaths her entire fortune to Bernie.  She eventually convinces Bernie to become her full-time nurse.  Soon her overbearing, hostile behavior becomes too much to bear.  Day and night, her demands for his attention began to drain him.  One fateful afternoon, Bernie snaps and unloads four bullets into her backside.  Nine months later, Bernie’s crime is finally discovered.  He’s incarcerated, tried, convicted and sentenced to a life-sentence.  True story. 

And the film version is a comedy with the title role filled by none other than Jack Black.

Directed by Texas native, Richard Linklater, Bernie was based on a 1998 article by Skip Hollandsworth in “Texas Monthly”.  Surprisingly, the article paints Bernie as a victim of the heat-of-passion, who is a seemingly harmless, loving soul before and after the crime.   The film version is also a fitting homage to the hospitality and good nature of the southern folk.  For the small but pivotal roles of Bernie and Majorie’s friends and acquaintances, Linklater cast many of the actual Carthage residents, who turn out to be the best part of the film.

Part documentary, part fictionalized black comedy, Bernie constantly intermixes sit-down interviews by people who considered the real Bernie as a saintly soul who cherished many things including theater, which he taught in his spare time, and his church where he often lead the gospel choir.  He also convinced the Funeral Home superior to convert the venue into a sanctimonious haven for the grief-stricken.  It seems that there isn’t one person who didn’t like him.  The town’s genuine affection for Bernie is equaled by their vehement displeasure for his “victim”, the wealthy Marjorie.  Their resolve is so powerful that it becomes infectious.  When one of the ladies (again, an actual town-member) curtly says “She was a bitch”, you pretty much believe it.

The most striking element of Linklater’s take on Bernie Tiede’s saga is how little irony and mockery is involved.  Jack Black provides one of his best performances yet as Bernie, donning a grin that is completely devoid of his trademark mischievousness, but is surprisingly warm and sincere.  His puffy body fully fits perfectly into his well groomed, white starched shirts and cheesy ties.  Black also imbues Bernie with a careful touch of effeminacy that gives us enough to question his orientation without becoming farcical.  Among the film’s many sections, labeled in title cards, posits the question: Was Bernie gay?  According to many of the residents: “Yes”.  However, one begs to differ, “He was a too much of a true Christian boy to be gay”.

When Bernie is arrested, most of the town was willing to turn a blind eye.  Between the murder and his arrest, Bernie donates much of Nugent’s money to noble causes while remaining in his modest home and continuing to lie about Nugent’s mysterious disappearance.  However, Danny Buck (Matthew McCanoughey), Carthage resident and DA is only interested in the legal ramifications and serves as prosecutor for Bernie’s murder case.

As good as Black is, McCanoughey is equally impressive.  His brooding, matter-of-fact cowboy district attorney seeps with dry comedy.  His descriptions of Bernie’s supposed lifestyle as well as the townsfolk’s naive, optimistic outlook to Bernie’s crime adds a lovely bit of counter balance to the what is primarily a one-sided story.  Linklater throws McCanoughey into the fray of interview respondents without warning and the Hollywood sex symbol (and Texas native) blends perfectly among the colorful bevy of Carthage’s citizens. 

MacLaine carries her bitchy Marjorie with just the right blend of cold-heartedness and sad tragedy.  Her moments with Black contain a nice blend of charm and platonic affection that soon, realistically, degenerates into a dysfunctional mother-son dynamic that hearkens back to the Psycho franchise–with the same resolution.  Marjorie’s seething and disregard for Bernie’s emotions or longing for a personal life create a sense of sympathy even during the fatal moments when Bernie unloads multiple rifle shots into her back when her head is turned.  

This black comedy is equally dry while the Hollywood leads keep straight faces.  It is the non-acting Texas civilizations spilling their opinions freely that induce some side-splitting funny moments such as the Carthage police-force’s atypical methods of diverting kids away from drinking-and-driving.  There’s also a Carthage resident who highlights the various regions of Texas; besmirching the idea that Texans all inhabit the same mentalities and trademark Redneckian lifestyles.  (The panhandle just as a question mark hovering over the non-labeled region.)  Even more curious is the true account to Bernie’s trial, which was relocated to another county because, ironically, the odds of a fair trial were impractically in favor of the defendant. 

In an interview, Linklater said that he wanted “Bernie” to embody many of the characteristics about his homeland that are missing in typical Hollywood fare.  Among them is Bernie, who will likely die in prison for the murder of an old lady and is more likable just about any film character this year.  There’s also the loyal town members who adopted him regardless of his crimes or questionable sexual orientation. 

There are hints that an added layer of truth  is hiding within the large knitting-circle townsfolk collage, but there’s very little doubt in my mind that Bernie was and is a good man who made one terrible error in judgment.  The real fun is the ambiguity–the untold stories and facts left out.  What truly attracted Bernie to being Marjorie’s close-nit companion?  Money?  Is Bernie gay?  We never know for sure nor does it matter.  Part of the appeal is picking apart the barrage of the informants praise of Bernie and utter disdain for the now deseased Majorie.  It’s like seeing the town of Bedford Falls rally to bring money to George Bailey–right after he murdered Mr. Potter.  You don’t have to be a good Southern boy to find that kinda appealing.  Dagnabbit!  

Great Movies–Rear Window (1954)

Although Sight and Sound Magazine recently anointed my personal favorite movie, Vertigo as the greatest film of all time, my wife, Lisa, always preferred an earlier Alfred Hitchcock/Jimmy Stewart pairing, Rear Window.  Out of the two choices, it’s the more approachable and epitomizes Hitchcock’s directorial prowess better than any other film. 

Some have proclaimed Rear Window as Hitchcock’s ultimate tribute to both the power and limitations of the movie-going experience.  As mere observers, audiences are at the mercy of the film-makers, unable to change or interfere with anything that transpires within the realms of the story.  We must sit and observe.  In the film photojournalist L.B. “Jeff” Jeffries (Jimmy Stewart) is incapacitated, bound to a wheel chair, nursing a broken leg, unable to physically avert the course of the actions he witnesses.  Even when his girlfriend (also named Lisa) falls into jeopardy, he is powerless to stop it.

Hitchcock capitalizes by adhering to a disciplined approach: The entire film occurs within Jeff’s tiny apartment.  We never leave his side.  When he observes the square enclosure of his surrounding neighborhood apartment buildings, the camera almost never strays from what Jeff witnesses.  If there’s ever a closeup, it’s only because Jeff is glancing through a camera or binoculars. 

Hitchcock only breaks the illusion twice.  Early in the film, as Jeff sleeps, we’re presented one piece of visual information.  I’m not entirely sure why Hitchcock chose to reveal this except to add a shred of doubt to Jeff’s theories: Maybe he’s wrong about the murder.  The other is the only camera shot that’s taken from outside Jeff’s apartment: when the villain finally notices Jeff’s surveillance–and stares right back.  Suddenly, the voyeur is now prey to the same device.   

Hitchcock frames the shots of Jeff’s neighborhood based on his point-of-view.  The camera perfectly displays information crucial to the core of the suspense.  For instance, there’s a moment when the supposed killer returns home while Lisa searches his apartment for incriminating evidence.  Again, Hitchcock never places the camera inside the assumed killer’s apartment.  We’re right along side Jeff.  We can see both actions simultaneously through separate windows: Lisa surveying the apartment and the suspect killer approaching the apartment door.   The tension builds because neither party is aware of the other.  As the killer gets closer to the door, Jeff and the audience are experiencing the exact same response and are incapable of doing anything to prevent it. 

The singular plot gimmick alone makes Rear Window a brilliant thriller, but the story stretches even further.  There’s also the subplot about Jeff’s waning relationship with the beautiful, high-society fashion consultant Lisa (Grace Kelly).  Rear Window’s screenplay by John Michael Hayes, based on a short story by Cornell Woolrich, really strikes cords on the universal fears as well the keen contrasts between the sexes.  Lisa is rich and wants Jeff to give up his international photography escapades in order to strengthen their relationship.  Jeff foresees issues–smugly denouncing the very idea of marriage–believing he and Lisa’s mismatched lifestyles will inevitably doom their love: a series of romantic interruptions and frustrations that strike true even after 60 years!

Before the murder plot initiates, Lisa arrives with a gourmet dinner prepared to celebrate Jeff’s last week of a recovery.  With every extravagance Lisa gives him, the further she pushes Jeff away.  The conversation erodes into the time-old argument between men and women when neither is fully able to understand the other.  She asks Jeff, “You don’t think either one of us can even change?”  He says ‘no’.  She storms out.  That same evening, Jeff hears the harsh cry of a woman screaming and suspects fowl play.  Lisa soon returns and assists Jeff, endangering her own life in order to solve the mystery–and possibly prove her tenacity and independent spirit to Jeff.  As the story carries on, Lisa soon manages to prove her worth as the adventurous, tenacious woman he always wanted her to be.  The subplot never distracts from the main story.  But Hitchcock continuously instills subtle hints over the Jeff’s growing affection has as Lisa faces increasingly dangerous moments.  Also, it begs the question: Would Lisa have put herself into such circumstances if she had nothing to prove?

That also poses questions for Jeff.  Is he really concerned about whether a woman is murdered?  Is he subconsciously hoping there is a murder in order to maintain his adventure-seeking even within his humble dwelling?  Or maybe it was validation for his voyeurism.  When Jeff finally confirms that a murder did occur, we somehow feel relieved, don’t we? 

There’s also Lisa’s famous first moments, which remain some of the most iconic and alluring series of frames in the history of cinema.  Jeff wakes from a nap and sees only Lisa’s beautiful face.  Hitchcock shoots her up close as she stares luminously back at him.  His eyes widen, she leans forward and kisses him.  Hitchcock uses a surreal mix of slow motion to emphasize the effect.  He allows the audience to fall in love, to fall under her spell, before she even utters a word.  In just a few brief moments, Hitchcock cements the character and her relationship with Jeff. 

Grace Kelly made three films with Hitchcock before retiring from acting to become the Princess of Monaco, where she remained until her premature death in 1982.  In Rear Window, she gives Lisa a strong-willed edge.  She’s willing to please Jeff by going along with his murder theory without compromising her own individualism.  

The trademark blondes of Hitchcock’s films tend to be women who inevitably cater to the demands of their men.  In the latter film, Vertigo, Kim Novak changes her very identity in order for her man to fully reciprocate her love–at least creating the illusion of mutual affection.  Lisa isn’t as constricted, but is just as eager to appease Jeff.  In the final moments, there’s one last trademark Hitchcock joke that tells us Lisa has limits to her accommodations, even for the man she loves. Who says Hitchcock didn’t appreciate women’s lib?

Hitchcock started directing during the waning years of the silent era, yet always managed to make films that favored basic visual elements to tell a story.  The surrounding apartments have a bevy of characters: the flirty ballerina dancer, Ms. “Lonelyheart”, the struggling piano musician, the finicky elderly woman, the newly-wed couple where the groom resurfaced through the window sill only to be pried away once again by his uber-affectionate bride.  Hitchcock creates a sense of place before any nefarious activities ensue.  He even allows Lisa and Jeff to play out their drama long enough so we’ve established character and setting.  Like Alien and many of the best thrillers to follow, Hitchcock’s patience merits grander rewards and suspense. 

Inevitably, it’s Hitchcock’s reservation that works so well for Rear Window.  Aside from the opening and closing credits, all of the music is ambiance from Jeff’s apartments, where the piano player infuses a haunting quality to some of the most intense moments.  There’s also the final showdown in which Jeff is alone and helpless, who, like the audience, are prey to wills of a murderer–and the Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock.

Do you dream in 1080P? Part Two

As I originally mentioned, the beauty of the high definition format  is its ability to removes barriers the separate us from the story.  It is a misapprehension that the format should make films look real.  

The digital/high definition format is already dominating the market and not exclusively to home televisions.  Movie studios will officially stop production of 35mm film stocks beginning next year.  The digital format is cheaper, easier, and doesn’t degrade with time.  There are many arguments for its radical emergence in the theaters.  But the digital format hasn’t quite replicated the film experience–not yet.

Photo courtesy of niksoftware.com–Here is an obvious comparison between films without (left) and with (right) natural film grain.  The left image is cleaner, whereas the right somehow appears to be more appealing to the human eye.

I was deflated after seeing The Dark Knight Rises in IMAX.  There was nothing wrong with the presentation per se, but it was like seeing the film on a giant high definition television, not a cinema screen.  There was something missing.  The picture was pristine–the best a film can look–but the blacks lacked the same level of contrast and grain offered in 35mm.  In other words, the film looked too real!

It appears that my local Raleigh IMAX has been “upgraded” to an all-digital format, meaning the original DKR 70mm negative was converted.  The fact is: film and digital remain separate entities–each with their respected benefits and detriments.  Film contains an aesthetic that has yet to be reproduced in digital formats on either large or small screens. That will change in time, hopefully. 

Movies were never meant to replicate reality; they were meant to bring audiences into a dream, an exaggerated reality, a world outside of our own comprehension and wonder.  The films of the old felt more like dreams than a window-pane into our own world.  There were filters that cast a veil, a different reality, an escape.

Certainly each film differs.  Some aim for utmost realism and wouldn’t benefit from a grand stretch from the common universe.  Take a film like All The President’s Men (1976): a movie that was so intricate in its detail that the set designer placed 1972 phone books in the backdrop.  No one, not even those who were purview to its large screen debut could notice.  Despite the high level of authenticity, the film had scenes with desaturated colors.  Tinkering was made to the way it looked to add a cinematic flavor.  The famous parking garage sequences with the face of Watergate informant Deep Throat was bathed in shadows.  In reality, he probably would have more lighting, but such liberties added to the intrigue.

A scene from All the President’s Men.  Gordon Willis, Director of Photography utilized heavy shadows and blacks in many films including the Godfather trilogy that deviated from the natural lighting of scenes as they would occur in reality.  Yet, the added layer of manipulation only adds to the realism rather than deter it.

I suppose some cinematographers take pride whenver they’re praised for their ability to capture reality and detail, but I’d gather most cater to fans who acknowledge their ability to add their own brushstrokes to the film and capture the emotion first.  The same arguments can be said for photography or even a painting.  Why paint a backdrop when you can simply snap a photo and capture the scene perfectly?  Perhaps, like film, the artist is aiming for something even more grand. 

It hurts whenever I speak with folks who proclaim themselves as film aficionados, but shun the very notion of sitting through a film that was shot exclusively in black-and-white.  Subjecting ourselves to film that create the illusion of dreams rather than that of reality are a part of cinema’s true joys.

It seems that the closer we come to dispelling the boundaries between film and reality, the closer we come to ruining the illusion.  For example, take today’s visual effects wizardry.  People talk about special effects in terms of effects.  High definition seems to deteriorate our imagination.  It presents our minds with fewer gaps to fill.  When I saw the last Spider-Man and talked about how dazzling Spider-Man’s scenes of flying and swinging through the New York skyscrapers, everyone would always comment on how real the special effects appeared.  But that’s the problem!  People were always cognizant of the fact that they were watching a special effect.  Nobody ever mentioned how frightened they were when Spider-Man was flinging through the air or how dangerous it felt as he scaled from tower to tower.  There’s simply no magic if we can see the trick.   

Here is one of many incredible shots from Spider Man 3.  Yet, even though these shots look very realistic, the vivid picture only draws attention to the effect rather than the actions within the story.

However, there seems to be a recent backlash to the amount of realism in our films.  The most obvious is the mixed responses to Peter Jackson’s preview of The Hobbit, which is the first studio film to be recorded in 60 frames per second.  Currently, the standard format is 24 frames per second.  If you don’t understand the contrasts, walk into an electronics store and ask a clerk to show you a high definition television that utilizes 120 mhz.  This is technical babble, but it will provide a visual example.  Essentially, it causes the film to run much more smoothly than typical films.  This sounds appealing at first, but it actually causes the film to look more like an MLB baseball game (or…the 1970s version of Doctor Who).  One observer mentioned that it looked like the most expensive Renaissance Fair they had ever seen. 

Friends of mine have televisions that come with this option and every one of them have turned it off while watching a movie.  One friend shared that the effect adds to sporting events, but not film. 

Given that high definition sets and their 3D “upgrades” are not enticing consumers like they once did, there is already discussions in the tech world of introducing televisions that offer 4K resolution–nearly four times the amount offered in this current generation.  According to reports, the added resolution offers no discernible differences to the human eye unless the picture is displayed on a large screen.  How large?  According to research, you will be able to notice 4Ks superiority if you watched a 60-inch size screen and sat just five inches away.  If the screen is larger, you can scootch back a few more inches.  In order to sit at a respectable distance–say, three feet, the screen would have to be 100 inches wide!

The 4K resolution works best for larger fare like movie theaters and IMAX.  It is a lost cause for the home market.  Inevitably, Hollywood continues to push more and more technologies down our popcorn, Coca-Cola consuming gullets until we choke on its overabundance.  The best litmus test will be Avatar, which broke box office records based on the 3D frazzle-dazzle that faded as quickly as it arrived.  Watching it on my modest television, sans 3D, reveals that it’s just another run-of-the-mill adventure film.  

And is it me, or does the film look very fake?

Again, I’m delighted by most of what high definition has to offer.  The sooner we can remove the reality selling-factor, the sooner film-makers will be permitted to make better use of the format.  This includes capturing action on the best formats imaginable and molding, modifying, and fine-tuning it so viewers will be bedazzled by a magical concoction that offers refuge from our troubles for two short hours.  If there is discernible grain present throughout a film, it’s probably because that’s the way it was shot and experienced by audiences in the theater.  There’s nothing wrong with your television.  If you want the film to look perfect, meaning that it replicates the world around you, then please…just walk outside.

I hear the sky is projected in 8K!
 

Do you dream in 1080P? Part One

Now that high definition televisions dominate most of America’s living room spaces and have become the preferred medium for television watching and video game playing, I’d like to posit this question: Has the new HD era really enhanced our collective movie-going experience?  Has it made our films more enjoyable or memorable?  The simple, quick answer would be a resounding “yes”, but let’s consider a few things.

I’m not alone whenever I stroll through an electronic store, glance over at the 60-inch LEDs models and salivate with desire.   It’s sometimes painful to walk outside empty-handed, returning to the humble living room where the 39-incher sits idle, waiting to be brushed aside for something bigger, more modern. 

Let’s assume you have already upgraded.  The newest technology displays a dazzling blacks and glistening whites.  Yet, none of these benefits make Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen go down any easier.  Instead, the larger screen only inflates Shia LeBouf’s vacant, open mouth stares and permits us to more easily count the number of nose hairs as we begin to feel the harsh pinch of “buyer’s regret”.

Before I begin to decry modern technology, let me plainly declare that I truly love my high definition set!  It is a gift delivered by the media gods.  It allows the lower classes (99% of America) to replicate the theater experience without the need to dress, drive our cars, purchase a movie ticket, and suffer an amalgamation of sounds that includes baby cries and Mazda ad narrations.  Until I finally am able to procure a television large enough to touch the frames of an open doorway, I remain a contented soul.  Some day I’ll have the ultimate set-up to reproduce a screening room at Skywalker ranch.  Until then, I continue to make do and relish the wonders that blu rays and HD provide.  Us poor Americans and our little problems.  (I only got two creams for my frapachino!!) 

I recently purchased two new blu ray additions, Total Recall (1990) and Jaws.  Both are truly wonders that  reinvigorate childhood memories of movie experiences that lingered deep in my soul.  These films represent a sampling of movies that first caught my attention initially during television presentations from a small (comparatively speaking) standard definition screen.  The blu ray upgrades have allowed me to reconnect to my nostalgic love.  These new editions didn’t necessarily make the films better–they just reacquainted me an old love a little faster.

Part of the reason both of these blu rays surpassed my expectations was because they were “restored” (a term used too liberally) under the supervision of their respected directors  This usually means the films were returned to the way they were originally conceived.  This is not always the case as some films are butchered or modified to match the expectations of modern video.  A film like Jaws will never look like a film from 2012.  It should look as good as it did when it first caused beach-dwellers to shit their bathing suits back in 1975.

Speaking of “new”, it struck me that there are many films that I solely experienced in a high-quality digital format and will probably never see on the earlier format.  I first saw The Dark Knight in glorious IMAX and have yet to experience in a resolution lower than high definition.  There’s a part of me that wants to experiment and plug in a DVD player into the back of an old television–whose weight and mass equal my car–to determine if the demoted presentation would depreciate my overall pleasure.  This downgrade would prohibit me from clearly seeing the fresh wrinkles underneath Christian Bale’s eyes or the speckles of paint on The Joker’s vest.  But would I find the overall product any less pleasurable?  

On the flipside of the coin, let’s consider I film I hated: the original The Expendables. (And yet I want to see the sequel. Figure that one out.) Seriously, I loathed every second of it in all of its uncompressed, surround-sound, theatrical-quality glory.  I doubt watching it on a smaller, standard definition set could increase my hatred further.  In fact, watching it on an older TV may help it.  The film attempts to hearken back to 1980s action lore after all.  I certainly couldn’t make Sly’s face look any worse. 

This leads me to the hindrances of high defintion.  Not everything looks better in high definition.  Once beautiful faces are now directing my eyes on the imperfections that 1080P brings to light.  Nobody looks better in high definition.  Nobody!  Ultimately, some faces aren’t supposed to be pretty.  For example, Ingrid Bergman was one of the most beautiful Hollywood actresses of all-time.  Part of her appeal was the way film-makers captured her on film.  Like many, the cinematographer resorted to soft lenses which ultimately removes the flaws and accentuates everything else.

Ingrid Bergman was one of the most beautiful actresses to grace the silver screen.  Utilizing soft lenses only magnified it.  Even on blu-ray, these shots remain soft as the director intended.

Now, let’s consider director Sergio Leone, who loved to capture faces when most directors tried to fill their widescreen compositions with everything but the kitchen sink.  Yet, Leone loved faces. He loved to push the camera so far in that you could spot each pore.  It was like he wanted us to penetrate into the souls of the characters.  He used non-pretty people who had interesting faces that the glory of high definition certainly highlights that!

The limitations of the photo still show the harsh features that are fully fleshed out in high definition.  In this case, this is a benefit to the film-making and is properly maintained in the blu-ray.

Many consumers seem married to the idea of high definition being a superior format and who could argue.  My reservations come from the precise definition of the benefits that multi-faceted methods in which high definition can benefit our viewing experiences.  The most common advantage is the level of realism it provides.  It’s almost like you can reach out and catch the football.  I feel like the news anchor is sitting in front me!  I didn’t realize the women’s volleyball team had hair on their arms!  

The idea of replicating reality is one of the ideal selling points of high definition.  As it stands, those dozens of store models are purposely fine-tuned to sell the realism element.  When blu ray and HD-DVD (Do you even remember that?) were introduced, they would constantly show split-screen examples (with the DVD side being purposely over-blurred) that presented the stark contrast between the level of detail and authenticity offered on the newer formats. This explains why nature documentaries seem to be the most replayed feature on display models.  You could almost touch the deadly eels!

There’s no denying that a strong high definition presentation highlights footage that nearly replicates the real world.   But does this add a benefit to film?  Do you really care if Jack Sparrow appears to be sitting in your living room?  (This is where I lose half of the female reading audience.)

Inevitably every movie-watcher just wants to experience the story.  I don’t care how old you are–the story is key element that measures our level of enjoyment.  For example, The Wizard of Oz became an instant classic not on a large screen (it underperformed in theaters back in 1939).  It was decades later when television introduced viewers to the land of OZ on a black-and-white 13-inch set.  Babyboomers still recall the first time they fell in love with Dorothy, Toto, and the TinMan when they weren’t even aware of the obvious visual contrasts between Kansas and Oz.  However, they were still enchanted–with commercials and the works.  The Wicked Witch, underneath her green make-up (or grey) and all, was real enough to frighten the poor children out of the room. 

The fact is that most everyone would prefer seeing films like Oz on a high definition set over the formats that preceded it.  But no alternative methods will change our ultimate verdicts.  I didn’t fall for Star Wars during its ABC broadcast because I was dubious of the network’s failings to reproduce the film the way the director intended.  Yoda wasn’t a puppet, he was real.  No aggrandized number of pixels per square inch could dissuade me that he wasn’t.  It remains one of the best movie experiences I ever had–because the film was the selling point.

It’s obvious that both the high definition and it’s successor, 3D, have started to wane.  Television sales have plummeted.  Blu-rays sales are not matching DVD losses.  People seem content to procure their entertainment through lesser methods like Netflix or ITune or (Gasp!) illegal downloadable services; all of  which offer inferior formats.  There’s still a market for folks content with watching new releases provided by a guy who sat in the back of a theater with a crappy video camera taking it all in.   

This may sound like blasphemy.  (Hell, I even posted a Youtube video in which David Lynch curses and berates watching films on an IPhone.)  There is obviously something lost from watching a film on a screen that isn’t 80-feet wide or stocked-piled with 34 speakers.  But the overall effect remains.   I may not think much of Cloverfield without the benefit of a kick-ass surround-sound system, but I still have the capacity to guage its quality whether its presented in high definition or on a television from 1982.

All of this leads me to an ignorance that permeates within today’s teenaged generation.  This is the first age bracket that didn’t grow up with black-and-white films finding time-slots on the cable channels.  In the 1980s, color films had three decades of dominance, but older films from the 1960s and 1950s weren’t quite the dinosaurs they’ve been branded today.  Even ABC Family (called The Family Channel) would show a black-and-white family film about a leprechaun.  That would never fly with the newer generations.

As it stands, we become immersed first by the quality of modern visuals.  If something entices our eye-sockets, we’ll be more inclined to sit and judge the film on its merits.  It’s like sitting next to a pretty person versus a non-pretty person; the latter simply has to imbue more charm to garner any attention.  Personally, I always found some of the greatest cinematography from black-and-white.  But like anything that isn’t commonplace, it is an acquired taste.  Sometimes, people have to lower their shields and tolerate something before their defenses lower.   

There’s something magical about older films where not every frame looks like it can reach out and touch you.  Afterall, we all experience dreams.  We only dream in black-and-white.  There’s something to be said of the power of film that tickle your heartstrings when everything carries a fantasy element.  

Last year, I had the privilege to see a silent (Gasp!), black-and-white (Egads!) film at the NC Museum of Art.  The presentation was beautiful, preserving the film’s original look and quality.  The film was Our Hospitality.  During a nail-biting sequence, Buster Keaton swung from a rope and caught his girlfriend from falling to her death.  I heard the collective sound of sighs and relief.  The audience was really enjoying it.  Would a film like Our Hospitality benefit from a color and sound and a high-definition presentation?  Not enough to change hearts and minds, one way or another.

My one regret is that I didn’t have the courage to speak to many of the audience members.  I wondered if any of them had seen a film like this before and if they would become more inclined to watch another.  Did the fact that the film did not look as realistic as, say, The Discovery Channel hinder their overall pleasure?   I suspect if anyone did express reservations about the lack of color, those inhibitions dimmed within the first five minutes.  At that stage, their experience was no longer measured by the number of pixels or speakers.  It was just a story man who loves a girl and gets chased by bullies for 90 minutes with the kind of comic precision and brilliance that doesn’t occur too often in cinema.

Nothing like this sells TVs, but its the real reason why folks buy them.

Thank you for reading.  This was fun for me.  I decided to break this one up.  On part two, I’ll discuss the future of TVs.  Maybe you can tell me if you dream in 4,000K! 🙂

Tony Scott (1944-2012) He felt the need…the need for speed!

Tony Scott was an unabated commercial director.  Unlike his brother, Ridley, Tony always gravitated towards films that came packaged with large boxes of popcorn topped with butter and salt along with an even larger cup of soda.  The man made Top Gun, a film I never really “got”–maybe because I caught it during the 90s after the craze had waned–but I can respect its impact on the industry.  It was one of the first summer blockbusters that was more akin to MTV than George Lucas or Steven Spielberg.  The 1986 film was the biggest hit of the year and instilled a new brand on Hollywood that continues today.  Since Top Gun, Scott remained a titan in the action-film genre, directing films like Beverly Hills Cop II, Days of Thunder, The Last Boyscout, True Romance, The Fan, Man on Fire, and The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3.  

Two of his best films were Crimson Tide–which pitting submarine commander Gene Hackman against first officer Denzel Washington–and his last completed film: Unstoppable, which was based on the true story of a runaway train the wreaks havok through Pennsylvania.

Scott adapted a sparadic film style that involved lots of closeups, lots of cuts.  In many ways, Michael Bay owes him a debt of gratitude.

But Scott found time to let his actors become center-stage as in Crimson Tide, where the best ingrediant was the verbal fist fights between Hackman and Washington.  Scott made lesser films which involved the same dynamic between two contrasting leads: Iceman and Maverick, Travola and Washington in Pelham, Hackman and Will Smith in Enemy of the State or Deniro and Snipes in The Fan.

Unstoppable was no masterpiece, but I will always remember the final moments.  Denzel was scaling one train car to another while Chris Pine miraculously dives from a speeding car onto the engine car and finally brings it to a halt.  I collectively smiled and exhaled in relief.  The film was fun and retained Scott’s fun with disparate men who formulate an alliance to reach a common noble goal.  There’s also the final scene of Crimson Tide where two of America’s greatest actors, who were at each other’s throat as a nuclear missile prepares to launch on US soil.  But once the threat is neutralized, both men walk away with new-found respect and mutual admiration.  Ten years earlier, Val Kilmer had pointed to Tom Cruise and shouted “You can be my wing man anytime!”  It was a trademark quote that became a stamp on his work.

I’d bet that Tony and Ridley shared a similar bond.  While Ridley was making films like Gladiator, Black Hawk Down and Matchstick Men, Tony was making Spy Game, Man on Fire, and Domino.  Tony may never have produced as Oscar-worthy feature, but his signature was just as unique.  Each Scott complemented the other.

Even when he had lesser scripts, Tony always infused his movies with a hyper-kinetic energy that sometimes strayed too far, but sometimes added to the excitement and tension for his stories.  No matter how you slice his artistic integrity, he made films that remains in the public conscious to this day.  His next project was supposed going to be Top Gun 2, with Cruise reprising the role that made both he and Scott major players in the industry.  It’s just tragic that Scott decided to end his own life yesterday.  If anyone has the to right return Maverick to the big screen so Generation Yers could relive their 80s equivalent to Jaws and Star Wars, it should have been him.  He made films I didn’t always like, but he possessed a skill few had: his films were always memorable.  What a waste.  

"Shaws!"

Courtesy of Youtube and MonkeyandApple

Video Pick: Total Recall (1990)

“Get your ass to Mars.”

The trailers for the Total Recall remake hinted that it was a mere cash-grabber that lacked any new angle or element of imagination.  If the reviews are any indicator, my predictions were correct.  Rather than fork over the eight bucks for a ticket, I purchased Lions Gate’s sparkling new blu ray version of the original Paul Verhoeven-directed feature starring ex-governor Arnold Schwarzenegger (yes, I had to Google his name to spell it properly).

The original film came out after of a decade of development hell.  Originally, producer bohemuth Dino De Laurentis had the rights with Jeff Bridges pegged to star.  After his film company faced financial decline, the film was sold to the independent company, Carolco (most famous at the time for its Rambo pictures).  Schwarzenegger was on board and immediately drafted Verhoeven after seeing Robocop.  The finished film catered to fans of mind-bending sci-fiction (hence the blu ray’s new subtitle) and Arnold’s testosterone frenzy and ridiculous puns.  (“Consider that a divorce.”) 

Even after twenty years, the two elements mix better than they should.  Arnold remains steadfast playing the everyman even when his biceps are millimeters away from erupting out of his shirt.  The massive action star imbues an innocent, naive, straight-man motif as the complex plot unfolds into a labyrinth of twists and deception.

But Recall’s greatest asset remains the world of Mars with its detailed models and old-fashioned effects that instills life into the red planet.  The sets are filled with numerous futuristic references to contemporary iconography.  I especially love the futuristic Hilton that’s only a mile away from the slums of VeniceVille where three-breasted mutants perform unspoken sexual acts for a price.

There’s also the lovely ambiguity of reality that Verhoeven leaves up to the viewer to decide what’s real.  The blu ray includes the original DVD commentary track where he discusses his methods of suggesting the thin line between dreams and reality.  Arnold also contributes, but he’s mostly in reserve-mode. 

According to the blu ray package, the newest release of Total Recall was given a stamp of approval by Verhoeven.  The film surprisingly retains its lovely speckles of grain and subdued color scheme akin to how it was presented in 1990.  But the film features a level of detail I’ve never seen–truly showcasing the brilliant effects work that won the film an Oscar.

The newest video release is available online for as low as $8.  I know, I know, I shouldn’t judge Colin Ferrell’s newest film without seeing it.  Life is just too short to settle for something new rather than something good.  As far as I can muster, the original is a fun gem and one of Arnold’s best work.  Why remake something that wasn’t broken?  It also features one of the best musical scores by the late, great Jerry Goldsmith that adds potency to the science-fiction and the mystery, even as Arnold stabs a blunt object into a poor soul’s neck; a patented Vorhoeven moment if there ever was one. 

So, once again, get your ass to Mars!

Video Pick: Jaws (1975)

It seems appropriate that Jaws receives its long-awaited blu ray debut during the hot, sweltering season.  It was the film that defined the summer blockbuster; the light bulb epiphany for the directionless Hollywood.  For the next four decades (and counting)  studios would follow the formula established by the man-eating shark: catering to massive audiences in order to keep their revenue streams high.  The “event movie” was born!  Yet, Jaws remains the perfect blend of summer blockbuster appeasement and genuinely brilliant film-making craftsmanship that stands the test of time.

The new blu ray release is an event to be celebrated.  The presentation is a magnificent improvement in terms of both visual and audio departments.  For this release, surviving 35mm film elements were scanned, cleaned up and supervised by Steven Spielberg himself.  The dazzling results come as a slight surprise based on Universal’s mixed track record.  The film is just one of many “restorations” undertaken for the company’s 100th anniversary celebration.  Earlier blu ray releases such as Pillow Talk and The Sting were criticized for utilizing the Digital Noise Reduction (DNR) process which scrubs the film elements of grain, but compromises much of the image’s intricate details in the process.  In other words, to make the film appear “new”, the film had to lose a great deal of what should be gained from the blu ray format and the changes deviate from the film makers’ original conception. 

Having recently seen Jaws presented on the big screen in 35mm, I can attest that the blu ray retains the details and most of the film’s original grain and color spectrum.  The film was also unmarred by the “additional” changes that were made to the film’s original imperfections, which spurred controversy with film purists.  However, the final results should please all.  Not one frame has been given a CGI touch-up.  No additional computer-effects for Bruce, the shark.

The modifications were done at the behest of Spielberg on previous mistakes and issues that were undetectable to most viewers, if any at all.  For example, there were scenes Quint’s ship, the Orca, where the color timing was off between shots.  Certain shots were captured at different periods in the shooting and they didn’t properly match after being edited together.  Most folks–including myself–never noticed any error, but the color was retimed to match perfectly for the time in the film’s history.

Another change was the monster sound effect that was added as the shark’s dead remains sank to the bottom of the ocean.  The sound has been amplified slightly, but I still couldn’t detect any abnormal inadequacies in the mix.  It all looks and sounds like the Jaws we know and love, only better than most have ever experienced.  .

The blu ray maintains the excellent two-hour documentary that highlights numerous anecdotes on the film’s making, chronicling all of the obstacles Spielberg and company faced.  Spielberg, only 27 at the time, had only one film under his belt (The Sugarland Express), but managed to make the film he wanted, which meant shooting the technically daunting film in the harsh Atlantic Ocean, rather than opting for a controlled tank.  The mechanical shark never worked, which pressured Spielberg to resort to using indicators of the shark’s presence: the yellow barrels, for instance.  The effect allowed the audience to fill in the gaps and is a real lesson to today’s auteurs who have numerous tools at their disposal and little imagination.    

The blu ray also includes a newer 90-minute documentary that touches on some similar information, but also discusses the film’s legacy, including interviews with influenced filmmakers like Kevin Smith and M. Night Shyamalan. 

This is the ultimate Jaws package.  You should fully aware of the perfection that is the film itself.  It’s now safe to go back in the water!