I'm Not Here

Aren't there those days (or weeks) where we all feel like we've checked out and slammed it into autopilot? Man, where did the time go? It's felt like that lately, but I digress from my intended topic, which has to do with Todd Hayes' latest directorial effort I'm Not There. I had high expectations for it, considering how impressed I was with his previous effort, Far From Heaven, a modern rethinking of the work of director Douglas Sirk in the 1950's, in particular the racial issues addressed in Imitation of Life, itself a remake of a controversial 1930's film. I also was intrigued by the use of various surrogates to tackle the persona of Bob Dylan and the embodiment of his music and his life and in the times that he has lived through and commented on. Unfortunately, it ended with me wishing I could have those two plus hours back, or at least that they had gone more quickly, as the rest of the week seemed to.

It was disjointed in many respects, which would tend to fit Dylan's own non-sequitur style, but the content had far less of the originality that Dylan has become renowned for. True that it's hard to be completely original when you are attempting to portray such a public life as Bob Dylan's, but it felt like the material was lifted from the more popular notions of Bob Dylan and his music, rather than culled from the deeper reaches. Watching this right after having looked through Don't Look Back in order to choose scenes for viewing in class, it was clear that so many scenes were lifted directly from that film, only feebly dramatized for effect.

The use of different actors to play Dylan, which initially seemed to be an interesting approach ended up coming off as more of a gimmick than anything. I found Cate Blanchett and Ben Whishaw to be particularly irritating in their portrayals. And as much as I like David Cross as a comedian and writer, it was a stretch to have him appear, albeit briefly, as Allen Ginsburg, though he did look astonishingly like the real McCoy.

Even the visual approach was disappointingly unimaginative. So much of it tried to be edgy, but came off as forced or often like something pulled from a LSD freak out scene in an after-school special, complete with tarantulas superimposed on the frame. All in all, I found it hard to sit through for over two hours, though with many original Dylan tracks, and thankfully few bad covers, it made it more bearable.

More Reading, Less suffering

Hopefully, you all found this week's reading far less painful than last week's. Not every word of every reading will necessarily apply directly to what you will be working on, but I have chosen things that I think will generally add to your knowledge and awaken ideas that will be useful in the process of making work. 

This week's reading on audio, along with next week's reading on lighting are about the most technical of the bunch. While jargon and terms may not always be the most interesting way to explore how to make a film, there are important concepts to grasp, as well as descriptions of equipment and how to properly use them that we won't necessarily have time to get into during class. 

Of course, I don't expect you to memorize all of this content, just to familiarize yourself with it. And it doesn't hurt to take a few notes for reference later. I'll be interested in hearing from you later in the semester which articles you read that you found useful (hopefully there will be at least a few) and which were a complete waste of time. And I expect that kind of honesty. Really, I can take it. So as the semester moves along, hopefully we will be reading and looking at, as well as discussing things that are relevant to your interests. I expect that if we aren't, you'll be raising those issues in class. The more involved you are, the more you'll get out of the class.

When being interviewed on Charlie Rose, wear something other than flannel.

It's rare these days for me to get to a movie theater to see something new, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that there is so little new that is worth seeing. And it seems to come in a flurry, so that the things that do interest me are gone before I have the chance to catch them on the big screen. As a result, Netflix has become my mode of choice for viewing most of the films I see. Not quite the same cinematic experience, but nonetheless, an opportunity to watch things new and old in the comfort of home, at my leisure.

So it feels that I am constantly playing catchup on the things that I have missed along the way. One of those things, was Julian Schnabel's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Now, although I liked Basquiat, I am skeptical from the start of anything that Julian Schnabel has something to do with. For those who are not familiar with him, he made his name as painter of very large, what I consider to be rather pretentious paintings. And he has moved on to making rather pretentious films. Or so I always assume. When I first heard of the story of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, I was so intrigued by it, only to discover that Julian Schnabel had his fingerprints on it, which turned me off. But I came back to the story, as always seems to happen with his work, and thank god I did, because it is a really wonderful film. I still think that dressing like Larry the Cable Guy for interviews (as Schnabel seems to love to do) strikes me as a bit odd, from the standpoint of trying so hard to be the opposite of the thing that you are, but that's neither here nor there.

The film is stunning from a visual standpoint, without giving away too much of the plot, in that it gives the audience the perspective of the main character for much of the first half hour or so, who has just woken up from a 3 week comatose state, and is needless to say, in quite a daze. The effects are achieved not through the typical modern tools of post-production, but exclusively through in camera techniques (another argument for the relevance of film?). Some are simple, such as covering the camera lens with hands in order to simulate looking through a blinking eye, to more complex under or overcranking the camera and using multiple exposures.

Beyond the purely aesthetic standpoint, Schnabel makes liberal use of the visual flights that the main character goes on, relying purely on his imagination to live out his thoughts since his body remains paralyzed. The extensive use of POV shots places the audience squarely in the frustrating position of this patient, who is entirely reliant on the help of his caretakers. It is ultimately a thought provoking, as well as emotional journey which so fully uses the attributes of film in an incredibly effective way, as so few movies today do.

The Lexicon of Film in the Digital Age

It's hard to remember a time when one couldn't locate just about any movie ever made and view it without traveling to the many film archives around the world, or if you were lucky enough to have a good art house or revival theater in your city, wait for it to screen there. We take it for granted in the age of DVDs, Netflix, a zillion cable movie channels and of course the internet that so much content is simply at our fingertips. Most of us don't seek out anything made before we were old enough to remember going to the movies. I actually have heard people say, "oh, I don't watch anything that's black and white or involves reading subtitles". What a pain! Reading while watching a movie? What work that is! That takes thought. Shouldn't I just be able to sit back and relax while the movie washes over me? I just want to be entertained. Sure. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm a sucker for the Farrelly Brothers and absolutely must sit and watch Dumb and Dumber when it comes on TV. We all like entertainment, but as makers, we have to expect so much more from film than that. 

Film is art. And in order to truly grasp that and to employ that line of thinking in our own work, we must understand where it comes from. Is it necessary for us all to have had the experience of struggling with clunky old Bolexes and cutting our own work prints from 16mm stock in order to understand how to make a film? No (though it doesn't hurt to do it once in your life). The way we speak of film today, relates more generally to motion pictures as a medium or art form than the specific technology that was used to create them. The line today is so blurred, we are hard pressed to even recognize any significant differences between something shot digitally or on film.

As both the Takashi and Belton articles point out, there are inherent differences between film and video, which should not be overlooked. However, I think the puritanical notions of superiority of one or the other are overblown. Takashi makes compelling arguments that film is here to stay, and for good reason. But as I have long believed, arguments of film's technical superiority are wearing thin, and it is those artists who desire the specific tactile and organic properties of film that will be the ones to preserve it. It should be noted of course that all of the world's major film archives, including the George Eastman House here in Rochester, still collect films on celluloid (as well as nitrate, or more favorably preserved on the modern polyester Estar base). Any film preservationist will tell you that film is still the only way we have to ensure the long shelf life for movies, which is significant when you consider that an estimated 75% of films made during the silent era from the 1890s through the end of the 1920s are gone forever because they could not be preserved properly. 

As Belton points out, there is a difference, not only in making films, but even in watching them on video. There is the factor of convenience of course. It certainly is beneficial to be able to watch films at home and to be able to control the playback. Not to mention, there are many films I would never have seen if it were not for television and DVDs. And I certainly think that DVD commentaries have offered a film education second only to, well film school, and in some ways better. It is important to recognize the differences, but only to the extent that it enhances one's understanding of how better to use all of the tools available to us.

And so it is true that even just this term "film" is problematic. But we can't get hung up on these details so much that we are prevented from just making some damn good work. If it were not for the advances in digital technology, I would not have the career that I do, nor would I be making the work that I am, and this class most certainly would not exist.

Moving Away From "Dogme"

Picking up on where I left off yesterday, I just wanted to offer some comparisons to the whole use of the Dogme 95 ideology and the case of Dogville, a film directed by Lars von Trier, who championed Dogme 95, and then did a significant about face with this offering, much to the chagrin of his colleagues still loyal to the movement. 

It should be noted that none of the original proponents necessary espoused the view that the Dogme 95 way was the only valid way to make a film. The purpose was more to, well, to borrow a phrase from A Tribe Called Quest, "rectify" film "from its rectalness". These set of rules offered some guidelines, perhaps better thought of as challenges, to find new ways of making movies. For one, to make them more accessible to every maker by simplifying the process and opening up the possibilities for low, or no budget films, and also by forming constraints that would emphasize the story and the performance of the actors, over more superfluous (in their view) aspects of mis en scene (which we'll talk more about this later in the semester).

Dogville eschews these rules to a large extent in order to explore the story in a different way, though it seems that von Trier set up a new set of rules to follow in this case. For one, the entire film is shot on a rather conspicuously contrived set, a big no-no under Dogme 95 rules, which state that a film should be shot on location with no added props. The aim is a conceptual one, where the trappings of a small town exist only through chalk outlines on the dark stage floor. We are introduced to this staging through a aerial view accomplished by mounting the camera to a crane high above the set, showing the entire "town", which breaks another rule of Dogme, which states that scene should shot only handheld. Though most of the rest of film is shot handheld, von Trier returns again and again to this aerial view to great effect.

The performances are indicative more of a theater performance than film, with actors mimicking actions, such as opening invisible doors (complete with sound effects, breaking another Dogme rule). And pervasive throughout is the voiceover narration (Dogme specifically states that no sound recorded separate from images shall be added), which comments on the unfolding narrative. 

There are many other examples, but the point seems to be that von Trier purposely created a new set of rules and constraints, to stretch not only his abilities as a filmmaker and storyteller, but the audience's conventional perceptions as well. The piece is quite conceptual in its approach, and as a result, carries with it a certain amount of intrigue purely from the perspective of filmmaking craft. I found it to be at times, too stylized, almost to the point of distraction from the storyline. And as seems to be a trend with many foreign films, the result is rather dark and disturbing, certainly not for the faint of heart. But the perspective that I gain from watching these films relates to the notion that while a strict ideology is not always a good approach to any endeavor when it shuts out the possibility for other points of view, it can be a useful exercise to adhere to a certain set of rules or obstacles in order to stretch one's creativity and problem solving ability.

The Lingering Legacy of Dogme 95

Just over a decade ago, around the 100th anniversary of cinema, a handful of Danish filmmakers got together and wrote a manifesto called "The Vow of Chastity", which formed the rules and guidelines that became known as Dogme 95 (or Dogma in the English spelling). Now, normally one would expect that artists and filmmakers would be the very types to reject any sort of strict rules, and certainly would not accept something labeled a dogma. But in fact, in the ensuing years, several hundred films have been made using these very guidelines around the world.

I had always been curious about the group and what the real output consisted of, but was always skeptical of the ideology itself. So I recently viewed Festen, or The Celebration as it is know in U.S. release. Directed by Thomas Vinterberg, one of the four original drafters of "The Vow of Chastity", it was the first film certified as meeting the Dogme 95 critera. I must say that I found it to be a very inventive, well written and acted film, despite some aesthetic drawbacks. 

For instance, one of the rules states that no tripods can be used, but the film must be shot entirely handheld. Now, this creates a different dynamic in a film, often more free-wheeling, perhaps improvisational, even frenzied in some cases than something shot with rock solid static shots or smooth, choreographed tracking and crane shots. Both have their merits in different situations, and I am an admirer of both John Cassavetes, a proponent of handheld, as well as Stanley Kubrick, whose grand, sweeping style normally necessitates the latter approach. But as a rule to abide by no matter the circumstances, I found a bit hard to swallow. In the context of seeing The Celebration I now understand it. The purpose is for the camera work to revolve around the actors and their performances, rather than the other way around. Cassavetes, would agree with this approach, which we'll talk more about that later this semester.

For similar reasons, the rules state that no additional light should be added to a scene. Also, no props should be brought in, and no costumes or makeup should be used on actors. Reading some of the interviews with Vinterberg after making The Celebration, he said the rules made the process of making the film more enjoyable and liberating, rather than stifling as one might expect. He went on to say that not having to worry about actors hitting marks, stopping to change light setups or refresh makeup made everyone focus more on the performance and the story. It shows. The film is quite stunning in the realism and raw emotion that is attained. It isn't the most beautifully shot or edited film to watch, but the unfolding of the narrative is so compelling, I didn't care as much, and found myself enveloped in the characters' struggles once into the film so that I hardly noticed the stylistic choices as much.

It should be noted that the film was shot entirely with a consumer grade DV camcorder and then blown up to a 35mm film print for screening. A little more than 10 years later, the quality still holds up enough that it's quite remarkable what they achieved with the technology of the time. I think that now, we have such better tools at our disposal, there is no excuse not to get out there and make some great films, even on a shoestring budget.

For more on Dogme 95, check out their website where you can view "The Vow of Chastity", as well as a list of certified films and other links: www.dogme95.dk

Next post, I'll contrast this approach with that of another more recent film, Dogville, directed by Lars von Trier, another of the original signees of "The Vow of Chastity", though with a very different set of guidelines.

Welcome

Welcome everyone to the class and to the blog. I will be using this board throughout the semester to offer comments on the class, thoughts on films I'm looking at and related topics. Also, if there are any things that come up between classes, I may add announcements here, so be sure to keep of track of updates, and of course, your comments are welcome. I'll start things up by keeping a running list of films that I'm watching on the right hand side of the page and you can all do the same on your own pages.