Screen Notes

Children of Men

Julian had been killed.

Her feet, her legs are in view. Her shoes seemed normal, but her pants were dark, drenched. Hands hovered over body parts, and all of a sudden everything looks bloody.

In the lush, dark forest, Shirley and Kee huddled next to Julian’s body. Shirley sat upright, moving her hands and chanting: “chanty…” Kee seemed shocked.

Theo saw all this. He turned around, and briskly walked away from the scene. “Chanty..” became dimmer. Theo takes out his scotch, and takes a swig. Next vice is cigarette. By now he’s out of ear shot. He kneels down, and begins to cry.

A prayerlike song envelops Theo. It sounds like a swan song for Julian.

The car came back. All had to leave immediately. To Theo, the shouting sounds faraway.

He wipes his tears and trudges back to them. 

Hugo

I enjoyed Hugo very much! I’m especially glad that I have good background knowledge of early films and understand Melies’ formalist expansions on film, before seeing Hugo.

Three scenes that I found striking:

1.      Hugo was going to fix the clock (the one where he dropped the wrench later). He was descending down, onto the clock chamber, about 20 feet up from the ground. The shot we had is from faraway, looking at this tiny figure up so high, while a multitude bustled, none paying any attention except to squeeze past through others. At this point in the film I didn’t understand that Hugo’s job was fixing clocks (did he at least get his uncle’s salary?), so it seemed like he was an urchin, using the station as his home and playing around with clocks. But the shot really magnified the large world in which an orphan struggles to take care of himself, and how unnoticeable he is when he is without people to take care of him.

2.      When Melies showed Hugo the ashes from his hankerchief, the scene was adjusted into slow motion. Bell-like music played in the background, the ashes danced around Hugo and created a grey world. This reminds me of all the fires in the film: the father’s death, Melies burning his own work. But the style of the ashes falling resembles all the drawings flying, too: the focus is lost from the characters, but for a second, a fantasy atmosphere takes over. Both times we expect catastrophe, but the music always gives away the benevolence of the event, and surely, the notebook wasn’t burned, and the drawings are cherished.

3.      In the bookshop, as Isabella and Hugo discussed an adventure, the busts on top of books were prominent, it felt like the heads were listening to Isabella and Hugo. And there were several too, each angle of each shot would have at least one bust of a great person lurking. I thought this was great in that Hugo and Isabella, two kids, are the only ones who are alive and capable of action; these great heads represent achievements but we should pay attention to the real adventurers instead of symbolisms. In this light, Hugo’s promising future as an inventor is no less important than Melies.

A Single Man

There is a particular effect in A Single Man that I’ve never noticed in other movies : gradually warmifying the entire scene. There are two very noticeable cases of this, one with Kenny, and later Carlo. The director’s approach to warmify these characters are similar, so I will focus on Kenny.

When Kenny was in the school shop, talking to George, I noticed that as Kenny offered his genuine thoughts his face became less wan, and gradually quite colorful. From being overall tan, his complexion became shiny, a robust glow was visible; his eyes were amazingly bright blue, and most of all, his lips looked sensuous, pink (a very lipsticked look), and feminine.

I think quite a few of the characters in the film are hired from modeling agencies: Kenny, his girlfriend, Carlos, all these secretaries and tennis players… There is an impossible perfection in appearance to these mundane characters. When George passed by Kenny early in the day, Kenny was lying languidly on the grass, in an expensive looking cashmere sweater – but in dull colors, as if he is inapproachable. Later in the school shop, it is as if Kenny stepped out of the 60s, and was posing for the hottest LA beach party poster. Moreover, the effect of coloring Kenny and Carlos may symbolize the sudden and inexplicable rush and excitement of the heart, a frisson.   

The Prestige

I’d like to try and look at this film through a feminist perspective. We know that the center of the movie is not about women or romance. So, what do the women in the film do to help with the story?

1.      They’re the dazzling factor in a magic show. Angier told Olivia that she is what Alfred is missing in his show, even though Alfred’s magic show seems to be doing fine. Julia, Olivia, and the unnamed employee for Angier’s electric show are all dressed quite scantily for the Victorian Age. They are always smiling. With the exception of Julia, none of them is involved in an act, and poor Julia dies because Alfred wanted to be creative. The audience of the magic show experiences Angier’s secret caresses of Julia’s leg on stage vicariously. Women are pretty blatant sexual objects on the stage.

2.      To expand on the first point a little bit more, women are used as tools. Angier uses Olivia as a spy, but he tells her to tell the truth – expose her intentions completely, and of course, use sexual power if needed. He betrays her heart by allowing her to do both.

3.      There is a layer of unrequited love for both the respectable and the show girls alike. The magicians are both consumed in their obsession, their secrets. Sarah and Olivia are loved by the Borden brothers, but the merged identity makes both women feel cheated. Olivia swears off magicians after working for both.

4.      Lastly, the movie gives us a precious, innocent darling who makes all the risks and losses worth it. Little Jess charms us with her looks and her easy smiles, brings Cutter to help the Bordens and at last gives the remaining Borden brother a reason to live for. But it’s problematic to think that only innocent, helpless women deserve love and sacrifice.

  
Melancholia

In retrospect I think Melancholia was very effective and worthwhile. But during the showing I was becoming increasingly terrified. Besides the planet Melancholia’s impending collision with the earth, and the effect of this on animals and nature, there is not much happening between the characters that was supernatural. It was the verisimilitude of the slow downfall gripped me. It wasn’t just the score, or the erratic mood of Justine, but the speed and the mood of the whole film. Melancholia felt anti-movie in the way that it defied the current trend of utilizing every minute to build up a plot, I didn’t just wonder what will happen next but how everyone will feel next. To be precise – I don’t think Melancholia was really about telling a story. First, the film was quite long, and very spread out (in that not a lot of dramatic events happen). This was so lifelike to me, everything happened at a speed that would be as it is, as we would savor every detail if all this happened to us – it wasn’t about jumping from one significant scene to the next. All the scenes were slowly building up to the explosion. Second, the film wasn’t just about portraying a wedding for us, nor was it just about the apocalypse. We weren’t celebrating the felicities of the couple, but wondering what was driving Justine to leave, over and over. And in the second part, we were thinking about the world ending, because we were watching the reactions of all the characters. As audience, we can’t necessarily understand or experience the whole variety of emotions of the characters, but the blue tint, the music, the prolonging pulled us in close to the mood of horror and anticipation of the end. I was very close to leaving during the middle of Part Two, because I was quite high-strung.

The Hurt Locker

      1. When we first saw the group of three soldiers using the remote control vehicle, much of the scene seemed to be shot by a camera placed on the top of vehicle. At first some of the shots of garbage and rocks didn’t make sense, until three pairs of women’s calves and feet, completely covered, scurry in front of the camera, almost stumbling into each other. This cue tells us that violence and danger is present, and the civilians are frightened. The camera still moved on after the feet stepped away, and I realized the vehicle was searching for something more destructive than humans. By comparison, the American soldiers weren’t interested in the civilians either, unless they’re assessing the threat posed by some civilian.

      2. After James accidentally shot his mate, he entered the shower alone. At first it was surprising that he went into the shower completely dressed, but we are quickly directed to look at the water going down the drain. It was a combination of dirt and blood. James’s own blood is mixed with his work.

      3. When the soldiers entered the desert, they faced an attack with a group in a suburban. One of the people in the new group mounted the tank and began shooting rapidly in the general direction of the other bullets. One of the shots comes from the floor of that compartment of the tank, looking up to a sliver of the sky, the man’s legs, and shells falling onto the floor like rain. The shot spoke of the rapidity of killing, the haphazardness of directing innumerable lethal bullets to someone that one does not even see.

Viaggio In Italia
The shot I chose happens when Alex finally returns home, after rejecting the prostitute. He comes without prior notice, and assumes his wife was already asleep. Kathryn is just playing cards by herself, and is very alert. The image of Kathryn as she listens to Alex moving from room to room is a conflicted woman. She’s on the sofa, the lamp next to her. The camera zooms into her face, both her face and the sofa background are completely illuminated. She looks impeccable, and she turns her head a bit, and looks in different directions. The camera does not move, the shot is only 4 seconds long. The camera, zoom, and lighting literary mean  that we are examining this woman who is waiting for a husband – she is not happy with him – and she herself doesn’t seem to know yet what she’ll do with him, or if she wants to call him over yet.
Alex’s stealth and avoidance of his wife upon coming makes us eager to see how Kathryn will react. The bright light on her seems to show that she is the honest one, with nothing to hide; and she expects the truth from him. A major cultural code that we understand is the fluttering of eyelashes. She has nothing to look at, so we know she’s listening intently, and unsure of what to do with her knowledge that Alex is home. Looking into different directions also tells us that she’s fidgeting.
A myth that this scene might contribute to is one’s need to find perfect timing to confront someone. Sometimes even when one holds vital information, it is better not to rush into exposing the knowledge and confronting someone without further advantage. Another myth is that husband and wife can have a lot of trouble facing each other, even just asking one another to talk.

Psycho
I’m very interested in film scores, and a scene that struck me as very dependent of the film score is the one right after Marion spoke to the police officer, but to her own discredit behaved as if he were the last person she wanted to see. After their terse exchange, Marion pulls onto the road and the music subtly begins, by which I mean the timing of music with the actions in the entire following scene is seamless – the exact start of the music is perfectly timed, the sound blends in with her inserting her car key and starting the engine. As Marion’s car pulls left and slowly merges, the volume of the music rises, but just so that we have found the sudden replacement of silent background during the earlier dialogue quite natural. The clear beat in the score helped me notice other rhythms in actions, that even though Marion appears somewhat unmoved and self-controlled, her fingers tapped her steering wheel at intervals, and her eyes continued to glance in the rearview mirror. The road curves within 20 seconds of her drive, and the music changed beat between the police car first being on the right side of her head, hidden behind her, and then briefly on her left – a crescendo of her nervousness as she hopes that the turn would elongate their distance somewhat. But looking immediately in the rearview, he is there, as ever. But the music starts to pulsate with the same melody, during which we and Marion notice that the police car is starting to merge right, and exit the highway. The music stays with the same melody while we watch intensely to make sure that the car’s movement is conspicuous enough to be changing lanes, as if we are holding our breath. Then, halfway through the car’s exit in the length of the exit road shown on screen, the music decrescendos, as if to signify Marion regaining her breath, her heart having been so constrained that it now finally expresses her tension. She comes to the town and the music finally slows down to a stop as she pulls into the auto dealer shop.
I’ve noticed that during dialogues, there is minimal music in the background, but that the film score is vital during scenes of action, even that as passive as driving. Words holds our attention, and as soon as words fade the film score holds almost directs how tightly we hold our breaths with its rises and falls.

Grapes of Wrath
One scene I’d like to discuss is story of how Tom learned about what happened to his hometown in Oklahoma. In Tom’s deserted house, Tom interrogated Muley about where his whole family had gone. In this dingy room, the camera zooms in on Muley’s face, and the flicker of the only candle illuminates part of Muley’s face. Sometimes one of his eyes would be hidden in the dark; sometimes half his face as he turns to the side. I think the juxtaposition of darkness and dispersed candlelight signify the unveiling of the truth to Tom, and Muley’s pain as he delves into further agonizing memories. The flashbacks are a part of Muley’s narrative, and the setups of these are extremely important. We see Muley’s father talk back to the rich man in his convertible, in this land of fallen crops and meager living. The shot of this luxurious car speeding through the dirt road is a keen reminder to me of how intrusive this rich man is, and he and his world left Muley’s family with a face of dirt and indignation. The concept of dirt is moreover significant in this whole film for the farmers see it as soil, their land and home. Muley’s father knelt down to splash dirt across his chest; and later the tractor unyieldingly demolished their home, rendering a pile of broken wood and an enormous puff of dirt in the air. Oklahoma at the time was experiencing dust storms, but the movie used dirt as a prop to show land, belonging, and then, trampling and humiliation.

Midnight In Paris
I think a major ability of film is showing us the beauty and expanse of nature, or background setting. While photography could also capture people’s reaction and enjoyment of scenery, a photo is only a snapshot representation of the whole of one’s feelings toward immersion in the surroundings, and only shows us a limited scope of the background itself. Theater is even more limited, we as the audience could not truly see their entire expressions and depend on interpreting gestures and words; and what props could equal a video camera walking through Parisian streets, capturing not one but innumerable sites, cafes, shops? The scene of Gil walking around on the first midnight, trying to find the hotel, gave us just the feel for the desolate but murmuring Parisian night.
And another scene that struck out to me is the one where Gil and Hemingway rode the carriage for the first time to see Gertrude Stein. The camera zoomed on Hemingway’s face, and the audience watched Hemingway enunciate, stare into Gil, instilling in him the value of “making love to a great woman”. Especially since the carriage has a very limited capacity, if the scene were shown in theater form, we would neither experience the intimacy of the conversation between these two men, nor feel like we are ardent admirers, sitting right across in the carriage, listening intently.  It is the ability of the camera to focus on individual countenance and give us the speech of the character that combines to give us the verisimilitude of participation on our part.

Masculin, Feminin
This film... sometimes felt jarring. Many scenes didn't feel complete, e.g. I expect the camera to linger another half a second on a person's face, or because the music or sounds are abruptly cut off to introduce the next scene. Even though the story is told chronologically, the film gave me the impression that it was very jumbled, almost as if it were hastily pasted together, because of the way that it differs from contemporary films for having these rugged edges. The popping words felt like disruptions to the story/plot which I normally look for. I have not figured out what the numbers mean.
Since we learned in class that a rule of IMR is that camera movements may not fall under 30 degrees, I feel it is imperative to point out that when Madeleine was first asked out by Paul, she was constantly switching between looking at herself in the big mirror, looking at herself in her little compact mirror and applying powder, and looking at Paul. Now, Paul was no more than 90 degrees away from Madeleine if she were to stare into the big mirror. Paul looked at Madeleine for most of the time, and his body did not move. The camera always surveyed Paul from the same angle. However, for Madeleine, the camera constantly followed her in less than 30 degree angles, a semblance of following her every movement, but the camera was hardly on the same beat as her movements, and I felt the screen moved and tilted a lot. This I found irritating. But I think the reason why the camera moved a lot with Madeleine and not with Paul is because on the surface, Paul was insistent about Madeleine going out with him, and both Madeleine and later Catherine present themselves as women who don't have very exact stances on political or social issues, which the men intermittently questioned them to make them feel uncertain and therefore possible to change their answers of "no." But as the dialogue goes on, it is Madeleine who questions Paul and throws him off guard, and even though Madeleine does change her mind, it was not for the trick that Paul insisted.
Another rule is the eyeline match. I don't think there was a single time when the camera followed a character's gaze to show the audience what they're looking at (or not in the way that the shot of the object comes immediately after the shot of a person's gaze).

In the scene where Paul and Robert were talking in the laundromat, there was a cut that was very obvious - I believe it was Paul that was walking, and a part of his movement was missing. This is against the idea that cuts should be discreet so the audiences don't notice.