Top Five Villains

by Arturo Virzi

They say a film is only as good as its villains.

1. Nurse Ratched (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest)

The passive aggressive nurse from the film antagonizes McMurphy’s representation of life. She is the top villain because she hides her maliciousness and lack of empathy through the veil of serenity and false reason. Nurse Ratched drives the mental patients into madness by forcing shame and guilt upon them. I don’t think I’ve ever loved hating a character so much.

2. Amon Goth (Schindler’s List)

Nazi’s are scum, we all know that. But no Nazi is as sadistically evil as Amon Goth in the film, Schindler’s List. Nobody, in any film ever made, personifies cruelty and death as well as Ralph Finnes (I honestly mean that in a good way). What makes Goth such a fascinating villain are his weaknesses rather than his strengths. Spielberg portrays his anti-Semitism, prejudice, and hatred, as an after birth of his own feelings of inferiority and debilitating demons. His inhumane and irrational disgust is nothing more than a defense mechanism, and even though we never feel any form of sympathy towards the monster, he does manage to inspire pity.

3. Norman Bates (Psycho)

Alfred Hitchcock is Alfred Hitchcock, ‘nuff said. But how did Hitchcock becomeHitchcock? Well, he might have to split credit with Anthony Perkins, who embodies the phrase “bat shit insane” as the psychotic mama’s boy; Norman Bates. It’s an incredible testament to Hitchcock’s ability that the film stands the test of time, and remains as engrossing (and as twisted) as ever.

 4. HAL 9000 (2001: Space Odyssey)

Man’s creation turning against him is one of those age-old clichés in sci-fi, but that doesn’t take away from the fact it’s still an incredibly creative idea (and a possibility). HAL 9000 does not possess an iconic face, like everyone else on this list, but a voice, instead… a terrifyingly chilling cold voice.

5. T-1000 (Terminator 2)

T-1000 contributes the much needed cool factor to the article. Yeah, I know… Robert Patrick is a pretty scrawny guy, especially when you put him next to The Governor. But it’s pretty impressive to watch T2 now days and see just how The T-1000 manages to overcome the almost impossible task of standing through the test of time. The special effects haven’t aged a bit, and he still looks as menacing as ever.  Robert Patrick equate Cameron’s technical accomplishments with a totally bad-ass attitude, and prevents the T-1000 from becoming just another CGI flavor of the month. He remains as frightening and as awesome as ever, and he doesn’t feel like a bunch of pixels put together, but an incredibly good idea unbelievably well executed, instead.  

Honorable Mentions

The Joker (The Dark Knight), Anton Chigurn (No Country For Old Men), Salieri (Amadeus), Travis Bickle (Taxi Driver), Keyser Soze (The Usual Suspects), Hans Landa (Inglorious Basterds), Death (The Seventh Seal), and Darth Vader (Star Wars).

On the next Top Five: Tarantino characters…

Critique&Analysis: "The Lives of Others" - Compare and Contrast to Orwell's "1984" / Poetic Justice / Artistic Virtue

by Arturo Virzi

The Lives of Others is a film that drips with content and it is a difficult task to write a short article about it, because the film deals with so many important subjects, ideas, and motifs, that it is very easy for the one to spread itself too thin (an issue the filmmaker avoids in the film) while analyzing the film. Keep in mind that there is much more to this film than what I have written here but these are, nevertheless, some of the most resonating elements in the film.

Like I’ve mentioned in my previews articles, a good film is one that brings emotional, intellectual, and stylistic substance to the table, merged together with a good story.

The Lives of Others is a human tragedy, and the emotion lies in its three protagonists who all share a complexity rarely seen in films.

The Lives of Others tells a fascinating story about privacy, censorship and the moral corruption of political systems and ideologies.

The Lives of Others features a minimalist, monochromatic, elegant, and symmetrical stylistic approach that mirrors the lives of the characters, the political regime they’re under, and the events that unfold before the viewer’s eyes.

And last but not least: The Lives of Others is gripping.

Not a single gun.

Not a single car chase.

Not a single explosion.

And yet, The Lives of Others manages to put most modern American thrillers to shame. It is a true testament, not just to the power of cinema, but to the power of human empathy, both Weisler’s and ours. What writer/director Florian Henckel von Donnersmack accomplished in this singular film is incredibly rare.  

The tragic story takes place in East Berlin six years before the fall of the Soviet Union. This short introduction might make the movie sound like a bleak, formal and detached affair, and it might alienate a lot of viewers from watching the film due to fear of thought (Ironically, another very important theme in the film).

But fear not: The Lives of Others might possess a convoluted story that might be very hard to express in words, but the film is so elegantly structured that anyone with the capacity to read this article will no doubt walk away satisfied by the time the credits roll.

It is no coincidence the film is set in 1984, and I am astound to see a filmmaker tackle the theme of “Big Brother” in our world, instead of jumping into a dystopia future society, like Terry Gilliam’s Brazil and many other films inspired by “1984” do.

The Lives of Others doesn’t borrow the setting from “1984”, but it certainly borrows a lot of its pessimistic themes and bleak aesthetic.

The first few frames introduce us to the “Thought Police” and our main protagonist is not the equivalent of Winston, but mirrors O’Brien instead, a member of the Stasi (Secret Police).

Cap. Gerd Weisler is an ideologist, a man who believed and worked for the true ideals of socialism, much like George Orwell did before writing about in his, now renowned, novel. Unlike the character of O’Brien, though, Weisler is the one who goes through a powerful transformation (and not the character who mirrors Winston), by showing compassion against the enemy of State.

His first act of betrayal is swift but believable, since Dreyman (who mirrors Winston), the play writer who Weisler spies on, is not a real enemy, but an imaginary one. Weisler is no longer working for an idea, but for a man. A flawed, lustful human being who is simply jealous of Dreyman and wants him to commit a crime against the state so he can be properly sentenced.

The film separates itself from “1984”, in many other ways, as well. It makes, for example, a very ardent statement in favor of the arts.

“Lenin was afraid of listening to Beethoven, because if he did he might not finish the revolution.” says Dreyman, while playing “Sonata for a Good Man” on the piano. Weisler listens and enjoys the music, and later on we find that he is an art lover, as well. Cap. Weisler steals a book of poems from Dreyman’s apartment, enjoys the classical music while spying on the target, and admires Christa-Maria Sieland, the actress who’s engaged in a relationship with Dreyman, and the object of desire for Weisler’s superior. “How can they take your right to make art, when you carry the art within you”, says Cap. Weisler to Christa-Maria in a bar, confessing his admiration for her.

“Can anyone who listens to this music really be a bad person?”, says Dreyman while playing Sonata for a Good Man, and the film answers this question in the form of Weisler, who’s true virtue is displayed throughout the film in acts that perceived as betrayal by the state, and compassion by the audience. The film uses the classic metaphor, “Theater is Life”, to connect and justify the actions of our benevolent hero.

Art is in the theater, theater is life, life is understood through empathy, and empathy leads to compassion and virtue. Therefore those who appreciate art, understand life, and those who understand life have empathy, and those who have empathy are capable of good deeds. In other words: artistic virtue is the same as (or related to) moral virtue.

Weisler describes himself to Christa-Maria as her “audience”, both in the stage and off-stage. He is consumed by her story, and her trauma. The same way the viewer empathizes with characters on a screen or a stage, Weisler begins to feel emotionally attached to the characters of the drama unfolding in Dreyman’s apartment, and slowly turns from being a passive spectator, to an active participant.

He initially represents the audiences stand-in.

We know what he knows.

We see what he sees.

But he remains in the attic, detached from the actions down bellow.

The film’s aesthetics (matter-a-fact-y, and perfectly symmetrical) mirror Weisler’s modus operandi, as he embodies the mechanical style he believes the system he works for represents. But as all of his superiors begin to get their own personal feelings involved, so does he, and Weisler breaks the rules by aiding a group of individuals he does not personally know.

Ulrich Muhe, who embodies Weisler, delivers a quiet and eloquent performance. His subtle emotional twitches resonate with the viewers and give light into his conflicted train-of-thought. Those who believe voice-overs are required, in order to get a deeper sense of who the character is, must watch Mr. Muhe’s performance in The Lives of Others in order to truly witness how a great actor can turn a character with almost no lines of dialog into such a compelling figure.       

The interesting thing about Weisler’s role in the story, is that Weisler has no audience. Everyone else is a public figure to him, but Weisler has no love, family or friends. Being aware of this fact make his acts of kindness even more self-less than they already are. He is putting himself at risk, in order to save the lives of people he knows of, but does not personally know or should care for. Dreyman and Christa-Maria do have an audience, and their actions are apparent to everyone else in the film including the secret police spying on them.

Unlike “1984”, though, the ending to The Lives of Others is an optimistic one, despite the tragic events that precede it, and virtue is adequately rewarded through poetic justice.

In the films epilogue, Dreyman sees Weisler from afar and instead of thanking him personally decides to go home and to write a book about him instead. In this moment, the story comes full circle. Dreyman is now Weisler’s audience, and Weisler, who received no compensation of any kind, receives his own story in the form of a novel written by the man he saved. Dreyman’s art is saved and the inspired by the Weisler, and Weisler in returns received compensation through the immortality of art. Weisler is now the protagonist of his own story.

“It’s for me”, says Weisler as he buys Dreyman’s new novel, “Sonata for a Good Man”, dedicated to HGW XX/7, only moments before the final frame freezes. If you did not get a chill down your spine during this scene then I’d like you to check your pulse… you might be dead on the inside. 

Our Favorite Films: “Amarcord”

by Lana Petelle

Amarcord is composed of fragments from Fellini’s childhood memories as a young boy from a mid-class family in his home town, Rimini, in Rome during the early 1930’s. The film is laid out almost as if it was the film version of his most personal memoirs. Each different sequence of events serves as a different chapter, a different memory, and a different dream. It is a coming-of-age tale mixed with all the wonderful make believe elements that supplement our childhood.

Amarcord could not be put into just one category; its bittersweet characters are both humorous and melancholic, the stories are filled with nostalgia as the on-screen narrators brings neorealist style contrasted by the mélange of dreams.

And even though Amarcord lacks a conventional plot, all of these aspects together form that “something” that makes Amarcord such a fun film. It is not a story, but a feeling. It is not a narrative, but a mixture of sights and sounds that resonate within us all. 

The opening scene of the film begins with a very nostalgic/traditional tone, as the town gathers around and rejoices the coming of spring with a gigantic bon fire in the town square. This launches the film’s drive but the illusion is immediately broken when our first on screen narrator looks directly at the camera: an old man walking through the streets of the now empty town.

This is our first narrator of the film (out of a total of 3). The fact the characters in the films know they’re part of a film, gives the feeling that this could have been someone Fellini knew as a boy and his monologue is therefore not just directed at the audience but at Fellini himself. These moments, where the film jumps from realism to fantasy occur a number of times throughout the film, and allow the audience members to interpret it as they wish, the same way they would interpret a piece of abstract art, or a dream.

Fellini’s Amarcord plays with the viewer’s imagination and in turn we can easily assume that Fellini was doing the same while making the film. Scenes and characters are exaggerated, almost as if it was exactly the way Fellini would have remembered it as a young child.

The characters are portrayed through a childlike sense of wonder the same way we admire family members like our crazy aunt when we are young children. By the time we reach a more perceptive age we realize our fun, crazy aunt who always passed out on the couch was actually a broke alcoholic. For example when the main character Tita’s mad uncle climbs up a tree and begins to yell “i want a women” we think to ourselves “sure this is possible” and it very well could have been but there is a certain exaggeration the the sequence, from the absurdity of the uncle’s demands, to the over-sized tree.

A similar example would be the town whore (a recurring character in Fellini’s 8 1/2) who could have been portrayed as a common whore, but the actresses execution is flamboyant if nothing more, giving her a magically clean aura one does not tend to associate with prostitutes. The way she touches her body at all times as if always trying to arouse anyone who passes by and the excitement it brings her. Its the small things like these that give the film the dream-like fantasy it is so well known for.

One of the most memorable scenes in the movie when Tita finds himself alone with the very voluptuous tobacco shop owner, and manages to arouse her by displaying his strength. She is impressed so she exposes herself to him and begs him to cores her. Ironically, Tita, under the weight of the voluptuous woman, becomes suffocated by her body… the thing he desired most. 

These characters bring color to the film. There is Gradisca, the most desired woman in Rimini. And then there’s Titas’s classic Italian family. A group of idiosyncratic misfits living together with their mad uncle and their buffoonish grandfather. These wonderful characters are all filtered through a child’s imaginations, and portrayed as extravagant larger-than-life versions of themselves. But these exaggerated characteristics that separate it from other Italian Neorealist films, are exactly what make it so endearing. The film is a perfect example of personal filmmaking done right. The film is fun, entertaining, and emotional, yet there is always a certain detachment from the audience. The idea that Fellini enjoyed his films more than anyone is still prevalent, but that won’t stop anyone else, who’s willing to watch something extraordinarily unconventional, to enjoy it as well.

Our Favorite Films: "Oldboy"

by Arturo Virzi

It’s not very easy to write much about the Korean revenge epic, Oldboy, without writing about the ending. I promise anyone who takes the initiative to watch this film; the ending will be one of the most reliable sources of conversation whenever you meet another person who has seen this film.

In this short article, though, I will try to avoid as many spoilers as I possibly can, and try instead to focus on the other aspects that make Oldboy such a great film.

Oldboy is one of those films that are constantly described as “amazing”, and “incredibly twisted”. Most people wouldn’t recommend the film to anyone, and let’s just say its demographic might be pretty narrow. It is an tale of epic revenge, not the same as an epic tale of revenge, but close nevertheless.

Audiences have a habit to complain about thrillers whenever they’re predictable. Well… if your friend manages to predict Oldboy without being told, then that means he might be as much of a sociopath as Park Chan-wook, the writer and director of the film… I mean that in a good way.

Oldboy is a labyrinthine, visual tour-de-force, feasting the eyes with colorful pop imagery, juxtaposed against horrible acts of violence. Guillermo Del Toro once described the purpose of art as “finding the beauty in the horrible, and finding the horrible in beauty”. Oldboy does both of these, engulfing the viewer in a plethora of emotions, from disgust, fear, and shock, but never trying to be aesthetically displeasing, like most thrillers and horror films tend to be. Oldboy is such a stylistically beautiful film, that it could easily be seen as a visual exercise, but the storyline it carries within complements (and juxtaposes) the visuals so thoroughly that the substance manages to parallel the style.

Oldboy is a thriller down to the bone, though, and it never tries to be more than what it really is. The plot is introduced in the first 10 minutes, and the mystery is solved through a number of fast-paced, quick-cut montages. It could be said that the execution of Oldboy is all just bells and whistles, with an empty core instead of a heart. But that is just not the case, and Oldboy does not trade style for substance… it equates it.

A lot of disturbing things do happen on screen, but one cannot dismiss this as pure shock value when it serves a purpose. Take into account my favorite scene in the film. As Oh-Dae Su begins to remember an important childhood memory, he is literally transported into the past as his young self, and as he recreates the sequence of events, his body switches from his old self to his younger version. The scene in illuminated in a brown sepia tone, giving it the feel of an old photograph and mirroring the antagonist’s passion for the medium. There are no guts spilled, heads cut off, or eyes pulled out during this whole sequence, and yet one can’t help but feel incredibly tense. This scene, and the film as a whole, just clicks.

One of the most popular criticisms of Oldboy is that it’s a character piece with no morality. It’s true, the film’s subject is revenge but at the end there is nothing to be said about it. All we are really left with is an extreme, violent, over-the-top example of vengeance. And my rebuttal to that argument is the following: so what? 

Not every film needs to be a message to be complete, and not every film needs to have underlying themes about existential philosophy either.

Is Oldboy a story that needed to be told? 
Yes, solely because it is a good story.

Can a story stand on its own two feet without an underlying parable? 
Yes, if the story is good then it can stand on its own two feet.

Is a good story enough?
Yes, a good story is more than enough.

A film doesn’t need to bog itself down with limitless amounts of erudite themes in order for it to be considered good. Like I always say: a good story is a good story is a good story is a good story.

Capishe?

Oldboy begins and Oldboy ends. Even if it doesn’t deal with scholarly subjects, it will still generate great argumentative debates like any other great film. And as far as stories go, Oldboy might be one of the most harrowingly original I’ve ever seen in my life. And if originality is not enough, then take its sublime execution into account.

Oldboy is like your favorite record. All of the songs generate a common theme, a similar aesthetic, but they’re all great on their own as well. The prison montage, the elongated hallway fight scene, the raw octopus, and the final set-piece inside the antagonist’s apartment, are all just some of the great sequences in Oldboy. And the fact they’re all carried by an incredible narrative, proves just how much of a virtuoso Mr. Chan-wook really is, who could have striven for a B-movie, and walked the extra mile to give us an A-film.

I’ll, once again, bring up the fact the film’s masterful brilliance lies, mostly, in its devastating, emotionally straining twist. The shocking denouement is a rare feat, not because of its unpredictability, but because we, the audience, have sympathized with the main character and must now watch him crumble further down the hole of oblivion.

It’s no wonder Hollywood has been trying to remake it due to their lack of original ideas. I just hope they never do, because Americanized remakes encourages audience’s fear of subtitles and allow them to avoid watching these wonderful authentically original films. “We’ll edit the story so it can fit with the sensibilities of American audience’s”, comments like these promote the apathy audiences feel towards other foreign films. “I’ll watch the remake”, I was told by a friend of mine. He said the same thing about Slumdog Millionaire days before it was nominated for an Oscar… he now owns it on DVD. One this I can tell you for certain: It won’t be the same. Hollywood executives would never dare faithfully adapt the story of Oldboy. If you skip this magnificent film then all you’ll get is a watered-down version made under the classic Hollywood blockbuster blueprint… starring Will Smith.

Shame. On. You.

Critique&Analysis: "There Will Be Blood" - Tradition vs. Modernity

by Arturo Virzi

The times in which a film is released will, without a doubt, affect the judgment of audience. Most articles about Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood revolved around the mysterious title, and the ambiguous criticism of the war on Iraq. Watching it again, four years after its release, i come to the realization that There Will Be Blood might have been misjudged by me, other film enthusiasts, and some critics even.

It is not rare for current events to alter the perception of art by the masses, one would assume that any artist is trying to remain relevant to his times, but my desperate attempts at somehow linking There Will Be Blood to the war on Iraq might have been what strayed me away from its meaning the most.

Watching it again with a clear eyed perspective, I come to realize that I might have missed the point entirely. The films themes are not simply greed, and the psychological battle between the character of Eli (Paul Dano) and Plainview (DDL) is a battle of ideas. 

The character of Daniel Plainview might be a lot older than Eli, but he represents the modern man, unlike Eli who stands for tradition. They both believe in their ideals so strongly, that they see their opposite as obsolete. Plainview might have brought wealth, railroads, and prosperity to Little Boston, but Eli looses control over its people. Eli feels threatened because Plainview can control others through material goods, Eli controlled through invisible ones. As industrialization comes to Little Boston, its spirituality begins to die. There is a sense of dramatic irony in the story, because we know who wins the duel before the credits roll. Not because Plainview is portrayed by a superior actor, but because we are living in his world today. Despite the fact Plainview is a total psychotic asshole, he remains a lot more sympathetic to modern audiences than Eli, who is a dying breed. Plainview knows this already, and despises the rituals that justify the beating of a four year old girl who refuses to participate in them. It is true that the film is a duel between two negative aspects of opposite cultures, the culture of superstition and the culture of modernity, but Plainview wins before the film even starts because he knows very well that in due time superstition will die and Eli doesn’t really adhere himself to the faith as much as he claims to do so. 

There Will Be Bloods first 20 minutes have Plainview crossing a desert with a broken leg, on his way to making his first fortune, and these examples of incredible endurance almost justify his subsequent behavior. In fact, the mere fact that he brought incredible prosperity to the people of Little Boston still makes him an admirable character, even if his intentions where never considered to be good. Plainview knows he’s not a good person, but Eli has many more flaws, for being vain and jealous of Plainview who performs a spiritual coup de ta the moment he baptizes the first well.    

In the final scene Eli comes begging for help from Plainview who has scammed him from the money that should be rightly his. The modern man has already won, and the culture of tradition had to catch up to the culture of modernity. Plainview then murders Eli after he manages to get him to admit he is a false prophet and that god is a superstition. Plainview mocks Eli for thinking he’s somehow connected to a divine entity and yet requires the help of Plainview to survive in the new competitive environment. 

The title There Will Be Blood is not a reference to the popular mantra: “blood for oil”. It refers to lineage, Plainview’s lack of family. When Plainview is around members of the community he is trying to exploit he puts on a mask, and pretends to be charismatic, friendly oil prospector. So when he finds his brother, he spills the beans on his true motivations and desires, believing his brother would understand. So it doesn’t take long for him to figure out the man is an impostor when he can’t find a connection. His son too, grows into a different person, and Plainview’s attempts at making a heir, a partner and a clone fail. The only person who Plainview seems to connect with is Eli who, despite the fact they represent complete opposite ideologies, are two sides of the same coin. The lies of Eli mirror the lies of Plainview, and he hates him for it. 

Plainview murders Eli in the last scene as the final act of his dehumanization and as a celebration of his victory. The first time I saw the scene I did feel it was out of place with the formalism of the movie. But watching it again, the scene reminds me of Kubrick, who also dealt with the theme of dehumanization in dramatically humorous situations. It symbolizes the main themes of the film as modernity slaughters tradition and makes room for the future. 

Our Favorite Films: "Top Hat"

by Arturo Virzi

I like to think I’m unbiased when it comes to film criticism, treating all film genres equally, but musicals are the one I have the most trouble with. The Sound of Music and Singing in the Rain are just a few of the classic musicals hailed as masterpieces today, and despite the fact I will never call them by any means “bad films”, I will hesitate when it comes to putting them in my list of all time favorites. 

So I was surprised to find myself so engaged while watching Top Hat, one of the ten Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire films for RKO. Top Hat is a film dripping with wit, talent, and delight. It doesn’t constrain itself with realism, by portraying a wealthy, elegant, picturesque version of Europe, and not the effects of the recession at the times.

Top Hat’s history makes it a parable of joy and hope amidst great conflict and trouble. It offered audiences a glimpsed at, not only how things were, but how things could be. The story is deliberately light-heart, but this does not detract from the abundant word play, which is biting, quotable and fun. 

The story includes elements that might be considered campy, like a thick-accented villain, and a cunningly rebellious butler, but they are given such fun dialog, that their dimensionless nature serves more as a treat than as a flaw. Dealing with archetypes is a tricky business, but when they’re given such fun situations and lines their over-the-top qualities turn into endearing traits. 

I now know why Fred Astaire is considered the 5th greatest male star in Hollywood by the AFI. Seeing an actor with so much talent makes the world seem unfair for the rest of us mortals. How can this guy sing, dance, and act so well, no one should be allowed to have so much, it puts the rest of us at a huge disadvantage. 

Astaire is, without a doubt, a character actor, similar to same way Woody Allen had his neurotic stand-up comedian/writer, and Charlie Chaplin had the Little Tramp. Astaires’s character is a charming, witty, romantic hero who uses dance as a motif to move the plot forward. 

Unlike singers, who tend to be numerous in the world of film, Astaire is a uniquely talented tap dancer, and I regularly found myself amazed at his incredibly creative, carefully constructed and complex choreography. I never considered myself a fan of tap dancing before, but now I must say Top Hat has turned me into a believer. 

The greatest asset Top Hat has to its favor is the fun factor. It was most likely the shortest hour and a half I have ever experienced in my life. It epitomizes the feel-good-movie, filled with great songs, dance numbers, hilarious dialog, idiosyncratic characters, a mistaken identity plot, and a fun dose of romance to boot. In an age of boring, dull, and monochromatic romantic comedies, it is incredibly refreshing to see such a good one. It’s not an understatement to say that Top Hat has something for everyone! Incredibly accessible to modern audiences despite its age, and brimming with nostalgia for those who miss the “better” days of Hollywood.

Top Hat is one of those films that brings up the age-old question: “why don’t they do ‘em like this anymore”. I usually reserve my final judgment on a film one week after watching it, but I can’t help calling it one of the best film I’ve ever seen.

I constantly watch heavy-handed, complex, and emotionally charged films, and Top Hat is the kind of film that remind me just what made them so endearing to me in the first place. Viewers are escapists, seeking to get taken away by a narrative. Not every film needs to mimic Ingmar Bergman’s existential motifs. Sometimes, all a film really needs to be is fun.

This is what makes Top Hat so incredibly endearing, it’s extremely fun and witty, and I can’t wait to see it again after catching up on the rest of the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers RKO films.

Now, excuse me, while I go do that. If you haven’t been exposed to this magnificent duo, i suggest you do the same and start with Top Hat. And you’ll know why it’s one of “Our Favorite Films”.

Food For Thought: Nature of Film

by Arturo Virzi

Cinema is already considered an established artform today, but during its inception, it had the same troubles other mediums such as video games go through in order to achieve the status. To be regarded as art was an honor and a privilege, and cinema seemed to be too much of a mass art for the high brow culture to deem it one.

Early exhibitions didn’t recount stories, but simply showcased film as a technological achievement. The result was a cheap shock effect from its audience, one that lasted momentarily, but once our eyes adapted to the seemingly impossible nature of moving images, the thrill thinned and all we were left with was a boxing match or a ballerina.

If art was form and meaning then cinema surely lacked meaning. The cinema had lowbrow associations with the circus side show and the vaudeville peep show, and due to it’s mass popularity, film also had a vulgarity rarely seen in other artistic mediums such as theater or opera. The paradox was that even though the stage simulated life, cinema contained raw and organic elements rarely seen on the stage due to its borgeausie nature.

Another very popular opinion was that film lacked an identity of its own, borrowing and stealing heavily from theater. For some time it was believed that cinema would always serve as the means to art and not as an art form itself. It was a way of spreading real art, it was said. Film first had to emancipate itself from its previews incarnations in order to be an independent medium.

The key was to exploit the differences it shared with theater, like editing, soundtrack, voice overs, close-ups, movement. Theater was a recreation of life, while film, on the other hand, had a guiding conscience of its own, serving as a mediator. The presence of an artist was a lot more noticeable in a film, than at a play.

The classic period of film had crucial investigations on the structure of film, and how it differed itself from other artforms. The distinguishing features of a film are composed of technical devices employed in narratives for the sake and purpose of an emotional reward. Flackbacks, close-ups, and edits are some of the techniques filmmaker execute, and the ones that distinguish film from theater. 

But how do we, the viewers, understand the role that these technical devices play in the articulation of cinematic narrative? Philosopher Munsterberg answered this by stating that all of these devices employed on film are objectifications of mental processes. A close-up, for example. presents in visual form a correlate to the mental act of paying attention.

The reason we naturally understand the narrative filmmaking without reading a booklet before is because these technique mirror our own memory and thought process.

Then sound took over film, and talkies became the standard quo in Hollywood, putting a lot of stars from the silent era out of a job. Many art critics despised the talkie, because the believed that silent cinema had already achieved independent status as an art form on its own, and sound brought it back down to zero once again. These critics relied on the idea that in order to something to be art it must be unique, an idea that has changed over time. 

For many critics of the sound film, the artistic aspect of cinema consisted in its ability to present abstractions. An ability that was almost lost when film gained the ability to present simultaneous soundtrack, now that films had the capacity to explain rather than be forced to show.  

Many praised the new technological advancement, though, and attained that film still represented a landmark in the art world. Many believed the silence of film was an detraction and a limit, and that the true exploitative quality of film was movement, and editing. 

With editing we can demonstrate the presence of an alternative means of achieving film art, namely an interest in allowing the camera to reveal an objective first person experience of the world.

These supporters of sound value styles they call realism, composed of extended shots and deep focus and most likely used by Jean Renoir, Orson Welles and Victorio De Sicca. It’s only after seeing these artists employ the modern techniques in their film that the critics of sound turned into believer.