They Just Don't Make 'Em Anymore Like They Used To

So I finally saw Skyfall. I was very excited to enjoy the new James Bond picture while hanging out with some good friends last night. But, unfortunately, the film wasn't everything I was hoping for. Luckily the company made up for it :-)

It’s quite easy, both during and after the film, to note with solemnity and perhaps a little jadedness the effect of postmodernism on the James Bond franchise. Beginning with the Daniel Craig Bondian era, Bond has been made the transition from super-hero, robot-like but suave and jingoistic, to antihero, unshaven and unruly and all that comes with it. The signature James Bond tune was played to grand and sometimes comedic effect, though whether that latter bit was intended it’s difficult to say. From a director like Sam Mendes, the voice and vision behind American Beauty, one would expect a more exquisite character portrayal, and he instead seemed to have gotten grossly caught up with Bondian conventions and myths, shifting the Bond needle ever closer to “vulnerable” and farther from “untouchable.” Formally speaking, it was an exercise in high-tech filmmaking. Nothing else really need be said on that topic, besides for a severe condemnation of the filth included in the lyrical signature Bond animated intro, which lacked any sort of creativity and beauty and just seemed really to be an exhibition of the new sorts of things computer design is capable of. Recall Jean Renoir and his discussion of the beauty of an art unequivocally declining with the increasing perfection of the tools of the craft (i.e., technology). To put it succinctly, Mendes accepted probably a rather large paycheck in order to make incessant homages to the specific Bondian conventions, iconography and mythology, not to make a truly great film.

A Different Kind of Film

Today, I would like to discuss a film that I find incredibly intriguing, Federico Fellini's 8 1/2. Fellini’s achievement with 8 1/2 isn’t strictly cinematic, artistic, or philosophical - it is profoundly human. His contemplation of the vagaries of existence, the transient relationships that dominate one’s attention, is sincere to a degree that is almost discomfortingly personal. By the film’s culmination, Fellini’s judgment of the world and our lives as a circus, as a frivolous procession, seems not only without rebuke, and perhaps inevitable. He asks questions concerning the nature of art: What is it if not some fabrication of the Truth? And can it exist in terms of commerce? The pangs of self-doubt are tangible as Marcello Mastroianni’s Guido Anselmi, a famous Italian director, worries that he will finally be exposed as a fake, a fraud. His virility and his charm keep his personal affairs interesting enough to distract from the crippling inauthenticity of his marriage, at least until his wife visits the set and ultimately chooses to leave him. Though the film’s self-reflexivity is almost frighteningly omnipresent, it seems Fellini felt cinema to be an appropriate medium through which to instigate such a discourse; this choice shouldn’t be surprising. 

What is a little appalling is the degree to which Bob Fosse appropriated the content and the questions of the film, doing so in his own magnum opus and apologia All That Jazz. The thievery is egregious but well-documented enough to be left unexplored. What Fellini’s accomplished is something which all filmmakers, authors, artists of any sort aspire towards: honesty, or at least the satisfaction of what we come to associate with the truth. A concept with massive thematic implications within the film, the notion of truthfulness is one that Fellini seemingly couldn’t escape, and it appears his resolution was to abandon almost all pretense and lyrically, indelicately, poignantly satirize his own life and the profession he’s devoted himself to. Though clearly influenced by events in his own life, what work of art isn’t? To label the work an autobiography is reductive and misleading--it is art, and art of the highest order.

Woody Allen Does It Again

Inspired by Woody Allen after experiencing Annie Hall, I decided to watch another one of his works, Manhattan. Though I was relatively turned off by the less than stellar performance by Michael Murphy, I found a great deal to enjoy in Allen’s 1979 film, finding the world created to be both exciting and entrancing. An inspired score championing the works of George Gershwin accompanies beautifully composed images of Manhattan’s skyline at both the outset and the culmination of the film. Allen uses the score not only as characterization of the city he “romanticizes,” but also as a reflection of the emotional state of the characters involved, notably employed during his final dash to meet Hemingway before she leaves for London. Camera work was superb as was shot choice, and in most if not all aspects of direction, I found Allen to perform with an evident maturity, exhibiting prudent and expressive stylization (mostly with regards to camera movement and shot composition). 

The film echoes sentiments Allen’s often wrestled with, like the issue of starting a family (and his fear of bringing a child into this world, which he [through Michael Murphy’s Yale] deflects by mentioning his considerable workload and other really inapplicable distractions, seen also in Husbands and Wives), the expression of love through sex (here through Michael Murphy’s relationship with Keaton, in Annie Hall through Allen and Keaton’s relationship), the problematic nature of extra-marital relationships (and how they tend to complicate things and feelings), and the ethics involved in dating someone far younger (again, one Allen addresses thoroughly in Husbands and Wives). The dialogue is witty, as we’ve come to expect and love, and provides opportunities for Allen to, among other things: introspect and comment on himself (evident in the foursome’s discussion of Streep’s recently released memoir), comment on art and art criticism (in the art museum, specifically with Keaton), thumb his nose at faux-intellectuals (the whole discussion of “Academy of the Overrated” and the generous application of the label “genius” by Keaton, and a hilarious bit about the misuse of “didacticism”), and make his regular homage to Swedish auteur Ingmar Bergman. Mariel Hemingway’s performance deserves particular applause, as her portrayal of the 17-year-old budding actress is crucial to the establishment of a real, intimate and tangible sense of humanity within the film. She is at once hugely vulnerable, electric, and composed. Allen’s choice to end the narrative portion of the film with a lingering close-up on him and not her, though perhaps justified given the closing statements (they indicate a need for Allen to mature, essentially), almost seems narcissistic, though this might simply be evidence of the weight and impact of Hemingway’s performance. 

In the end, I would indeed proclaim the film a masterpiece. It is not quite as amazing as Annie Hall, what I believe to be his chef d’oeuvre, but it is a film which deserves great celebration and recognition.

Trifecta!

HELLO, WORLD

The Cinematic Conversation

Truth 24 Frames Per Second

Film Student Vs. Film

I don’t watch many movies.

Watching a film is something of a revelation. To me, watching a movie is like waking up from a nightmare. But, the exact opposite. A period of bliss. A time where I can release and become immersed within a world foreign to my own.

I love watching movies. It’s just that I do not typically have the time to spend ninety minutes or more in front of a screen. Therefore, film to me is a gift; a time of celebration. A celebration of life, of perspective, and of emotion. 

I take this celebration very seriously. And I hope to share it with the world. As the credits roll, I hope for a conversation. I hope for a cinematic conversation.

I am a filmmaker. I am also a film student. One creative, the other academic, I feel blessed to call myself both. I have created this blog in hopes of bringing these two roles together and constructing an environment in which my perspectives as each flourish together. 

I will analyze films with a discerning eye, discuss current trends in filmmaking, and work to compare them to the past one hundred years of cinematic history. Cinema is always changing. As cultures and technology evolve, cinema rides shotgun. I want to scuba dive the depths of these relationships and see what we can find. 

Since cinema’s conception in 1892, at the hands of Thomas Edison and his invention of the kinetoscope, the medium has traveled through four distinctly defined eras: the classical period, post-classical period, modern period, and post-modern period. Today we reside within the era of post-modernism. 

This cinematic conversation will feature films from across the periods, comparing them to one another while exploring each one in its own way. I want to take what I’ve learned from behind the camera, combine it with what I’ve learned in the classroom, and chock it full of what I’ve learned in life, all in the hopes of crafting a discussion you feel like adding to. Film is a medium in which everyone can partake, no matter your age, your race, your gender or your economic standing. It is a medium for the curious and a medium for the passionate. It is a medium for the narrow-minded and a medium for the open-minded. Film is a language that all individuals can read and write. As one of my favorite directors and producers, James Cameron, once said:

Pick up a camera. Shoot something. No matter how small, no matter how cheesy, no matter whether your friends and your sister star in it. Put your name on it as director. Now you’re a director.

We are all directors of our own lens. Through this blog, I hope we can partake in the medium of film together and learn something about ourselves, about our world, and about the very medium that has the power to change it.

MY VOICE POST ON “CINEMATIC CORNER”

Today, I am writing a voice post on a fellow blogger writing about cinema. Her name is Sati and her blog is titled, “Cinematic Corner.” Impressively, Sati has been able to garner 672,546 page views for her blog and is a very active blogger to this day. She writes about everything from cinematic inspiration to pure movie reviews.

Sati has a distinct and developed voice. Examining the many pages of her blog, you can easily see how passionate, meticulous, and opinionated she is. She has something to say about everything and is colorful and extravagant in her points.

First, let’s look at her post, “Oz: The Great and Powerful”, a review of the new Disney film directed by Sam Raimi. There are many elements of the post that demonstrate her voice. In the first paragraph, when describing her view of Disney, she refers to John Carter, the studios last big flop, by saying it “misfired like the smelly poop in a clogged toilet.” This vivid metaphor of the film shows that she uses descriptive language and is quite immature. She seems to also be honest. Her diction holds no filter. She says whatever is on her mind and is proud of it.

Surprisingly though, despite being so critical, Sati is also forgiving. When describing her overall view of the new Wizard of Oz, she says, “While parts of it were pretty bad, that identity and the effort itself deserve my praise.” She goes on to tear the film apart but always reminds us that she respects the effort put into the film as well as director Sam Raimi’s consistent respect for the original 1939 film. 

Along the lines of what I mentioned before, she is also honest. She constantly makes note of her own views and writing behavior and even goes on to comment on them. For instance, half-way through the “Oz” review, she exclaims, “I'm a very cynical person. I don't just think I am - I know it.” She is not afraid to say what is on her mind. She also knows how to make a point by calling out a quality of her writing and then use it to frame her following point. I found that intriguing.

When looking at another one of her posts, “Thoughts On BAFTAs”, I found it revealing that she said, “Joaquin Phoenix was there - I swear on every single ceremony he looks more and more like Satan.” I mean, who actually says something like that out of the blue? Apparently Sati does. She always has something to say and will never hold back. She has a big imagination and a dark sense of humor.

But, throughout her blog, my favorite passage comes from her post about the new film, Mama:

“It would be hard for me to find a movie that was released recently that collapses on its ass as spectacularly as Mama does. The film is actually quite decent in its first hour, but its last 30 minutes are so incredibly fucking stupid you feel as if you were watching an exclusive glimpse into Tim Burton's mind if he was imagining what Corpse Bride would be like as a horror feature film...and then as if his visions crossed to Guillermo Del Toro being high during mother's day. It's fucking crazy and not in a good way.”

I thought Sati’s use of vulgarity and imagery were indicative of her voice. Similar to the first quote of her’s that I mentioned - the one about “poop” - this passage shows how immature and casual she is in her writing. But I do not think being immature here is a bad thing. It allows her to showcase her unique sense of humor and outlook on life in a personal way. Rather than being dry and static, she has been able to compose a blog that is bursting with personal flair and undeniable entertainment. I really enjoy her blog and look forward to what she has in store for us next!

PROFILING “UN FILM DE”, A BLOG BY FELLOW FILM STUDENTS

Today I am profiling a blog that I am very fond of. Similarly focused on cinema, the blog, “un film de” is a treasure trove of youthful perspectives on a vast range of films from all around the world. The blog is mostly concerned with foreign film as most of its blog posts discuss this type of cinema. The name, "un film de" is an homage to French films, of which many are discussed on the blog. I doubt many people today realize, but the Cannes film festival in Southern France used to be much more mainstream back in the 1950s. Thus, international films, such as those in Italian and Spanish, were still credited in French using ‘Un Film De’ to acknowledge their director. I think it’s a great name for their fantastic blog.

Omar Antonio Iturriaga and Doga Col are the two young guys responsible for “un de film.” They are current film students who share a passion for cinema and write reviews about all the films “they dig”. I really enjoy the quote that they have under the title of the blog: “Hollywood is like being nowhere and talking to nobody about nothing,” said by film director Michelangelo Antonioni. I can really relate to what Antonioni is trying to express here.

Unfortunately, Omar and Doga have not made any posts since October of 2012, but before then they were posting on average twice a month since the blog’s conception in January of 2011.

Surprisingly, the blog has a very small audience. According to Alexa, the wordpress site is ranked 14,310,858 in the world and has only 9 other sites linking in.

Two of my favorite posts are their review of Jean-Luc Godard’s 1963 film, Contempt,

http://unfilmde.wordpress.com/2012/10/01/contempt-1963-reviewed-★★★★/

and their analysis of Ken Loach’s 1969 film, Kes.

http://unfilmde.wordpress.com/2011/04/28/ken-loachs-kes-1969/

Contempt is one of my favorite films. Believe it or not, I actually have the original French film poster coming in the mail with its soon-to-be frame leaning up against my wall in the very place I will be hanging it. Omar and Doga certainly have great taste in cinema.

I must say that the blog couldn’t relate any better to the type of work I am doing with my blog. I strive to create a similar vibe and develop a comparable voice to theirs. They enjoy the same type of cinema and even have numerous films I cannot wait to check out. On the blog, they have a special section with recommended cinema that I am working my way through. Ingmar Bergman’s 1966 film, Persona, is next on my list. 

The blog is very academic and professional, which is to a degree comprehensible considering their status as film students. I can tell that they take their studies very seriously and are incredibly passionate about the medium. Their posts are brimming with knowledge of cinematic history and technique, not to mention the high degree of passion that keeps me coming back.

Their audience is mostly comprised of cinephiles and film students, ranging from the ages of twenty to seventy. This blog could inform my work by inspiring me to check out more foreign cinema and expand my knowledge of cinematic technique. It is always nice to have a positive youthful peer pressure to become a better cinephile. My site differs from their blog by focusing heavily on contemporary cinema, as well as many domestically produced films. 

La Dolce Vita

Today I'd like to review a film that I have seen many times and love very much, Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita. La Dolce Vita is more epic in scale, and more socially conscious in temperament, than Fellini’s other masterwork: 8 1/2. Here, Marcello is emblematic of the great cultural malaise gripping the Italian elite. The lavish materialistic attractions of the day prove ultimately unfulfilling, Fellini asserts, as “la dolce vita” is anything but sweet. The film references the sociopsychological drift of the Art Cinema, but places it in a specific context: the fashionable gentry of Rome. Modern aggravations of note within the film include the prevalence of the paparazzi, who symbolize an infuriating intrusiveness on the part of the media. Marcello himself is a journalist, a successful one, who’s work is criticized and feared by those he spends time with. Another intrusion seems to be American culture, the English language particularly, and the sort of childish but sensual exuberance, characterized by Anita Ekberg’s Sylvia. The notion of the traditional domestic life serving as a strangling, so to speak, a caging device, is one introduced by Marcello’s friend Steiner, who’s brutal tragedy indicates a resolution of the film’s exploration concerning the hidden realities of apparently ideal familial relations. However, the incident could be understood as having resulted from Steiner’s sense of intellectualism, though he explicitly bemoans his relative imprisonment. This is consequential because Marcello discusses, at several junctures, his interest in literature, expressly as contrasted against his journalistic writings, suggesting a desire for greater intellectualism, or greater artistic involvement and acclaim. Familiar Fellinian discourse concerning religion, media, and love (especially as sought out in terms of mistresses and lovers) play major roles within the narrative, though all seem to fail, in Marcello’s estimation, in the enterprise of lending meaning to his life. 

Ultimately, Marcello serves as a guide, exhibiting both himself, his ideologies, and those prevailing within his social circles, those which comprised the upper echelon of Rome’s aristocracy. Fellini has identified that which is paradoxical, or ironic, or fundamentally corrupt, about each of the institutions he has chosen to explore (religion, family, high society, media), and depicted it in a manner both engrossing and repelling, alluring but grotesque. His showman’s instinct is herein superb, with the performances at the Cha-Cha-Cha Club coming to mind, and of course the final degradation of Marcello in the seaside villa (not to mention Anita Ekberg’s traipse through the Trevi Fountain). Marcello’s grace and gallantry cannot pass unmentioned, and the enchanting sophistication of Anouk Aimee’s Maddalena illustrates Fellini’s ability to transform his actors (considering Aimee’s character in  8 1/2 as Marcello’s spurned wife). 

In all, Fellini’s La Dolce Vita is masterful - exciting, intelligent, sumptuous, critical and profound, capturing the joie de vivre of Italy’s beau monde and positing a certain relation between it and cinema’s pervasive ennui.

My Voice Post On "Cinematic Corner"

Today, I am writing a voice post on a fellow blogger writing about cinema. Her name is Sati and her blog is titled, “Cinematic Corner.” Impressively, Sati has been able to garner 672,546 page views for her blog and is a very active blogger to this day. She writes about everything from cinematic inspiration to pure movie reviews.

Sati has a very distinct and developed voice. Examining the many pages of her blog, you can easily see how passionate, meticulous, and opinionated she is. She has something to say about everything and is colorful and extravagant in her points.

First, let’s look at her post, “Oz: The Great and Powerful”, a review of the new Disney film directed by Sam Raimi. There are many parts of the post that demonstrate her voice. In the first paragraph, when describing her view of Disney, she refers to John Carter, the studios last big flop, by saying it “misfired like the smelly poop in a clogged toilet.” This vivid metaphor of the film shows that she has a very descriptive language and that she is quite immature. She seems to also be very honest. Her diction holds no filter. She says whatever is on her mind and is proud of it.

Surprisingly though, despite being so critical, Sati is also very forgiving. When describing her overall view of the new Wizard of Oz, she says “While parts of it were pretty bad, that identity and the effort itself deserve my praise.” She goes on to tear the film apart but always reminds us that she respects the effort put into the film as well as director Sam Raimi’s consistent respect for the original 1939 film. 

Along the lines of what I mentioned before, she is also very honest. She constantly makes note of her own views and writing behavior and even goes on to comment on them. For instance, half way through the “Oz” review, she exclaims, “I'm a very cynical person. I don't just think I am - I know it.” She is not afraid to say what is on her mind. She also knows how to make a point by calling out a quality of her writing and then use it to frame her following point. I found that to be very interesting.

When looking at another one of her posts, “Thoughts On BAFTAs”, I thought it was very revealing when she said, “Joaquin Phoenix was there - I swear on every single ceremony he looks more and more like Satan.” I mean, who actually says something like that out of the blue? Apparently Sati does. She always has something to say and will never hold back. She has a very big imagination and a very dark sense of humor.

But, throughout her entire blog, my favorite passage comes from her post about the new film, Mama:

It would be hard for me to find a movie that was released recently that collapses on its ass as spectacularly as Mama does. The film is actually quite decent in its first hour, but its last 30 minutes are so incredibly fucking stupid you feel as if you were watching an exclusive glimpse into Tim Burton's mind if he was imagining what Corpse Bride would be like as a horror feature film...and then as if his visions crossed to Guillermo Del Toro being high during mother's day. It's fucking crazy and not in a good way.

I thought Sati’s use of vulgarity and imagery were very indicative of her voice. Similar to the first quote of hers that I mentioned - the one about “poop” - this passage shows how immature and casual she is in her writing. But I do not thing being immature here is a bad thing. It allows her to showcase her unique sense of humor and outlook on life in a very personal way. Rather than being dry and static, she has been able to compose a blog that is bursting with personal flair and undeniable entertainment. I really enjoy her blog and look forward to what she has in store for us next!

Profiling "Un Film De", a blog by fellow film students

Today, I am profiling a blog that I am very fond of. Similarly focused on cinema, the blog, “un film de” is a treasure trove of youthful perspectives on a vast range of film from all around the world. The blog is mostly concerned with foreign film as most of its blog posts discuss this type of cinema. The name, "un film de" is an homage to French films of which many are discussed on the blog. I doubt many people today realize, but the Cannes film festival in Southern France used to be much more mainstream back in the 1950s. Thus, international films, such as those in Italian and Spanish, were still credited in French using ‘Un Film De’ to acknowledge their director. I think its a great name for their fantastic blog.

Omar Antonio Iturriaga and Doga Col are the two young guys responsible for “un de film.” They are current film students who share a passion for cinema and write reviews about all the films “they dig”. I really enjoy the quote that they have under the title of the blog: “Hollywood is like being nowhere and talking to nobody about nothing,” said by film director Michelangelo Antonioni. I can really relate to what Antonioni is trying to express here.

Unfortunately, Omar and Doga have not made any posts since October of 2012, but before then they were posting on average twice a month since the blog’s conception in January of 2011.

Surprisingly to me, the blog has a very small audience. According to Alexa, the wordpress site is ranked 14,310,858 in the world and has only 9 other sites linking in.

Two of my favorite posts are their review of Jean-Luc Godard’s 1963 film, Contempt,

http://unfilmde.wordpress.com/2012/10/01/contempt-1963-reviewed-★★★★/

and their analysis of Ken Loach’s 1969 film, Kes.

http://unfilmde.wordpress.com/2011/04/28/ken-loachs-kes-1969/

Contempt is one of my favorite films. Believe it or not, I actually have the original french film poster coming in the mail with its soon-to-be frame leaning up against my wall in the very place I will be hanging it. Omar and Doga certainly have great taste in cinema.

I must say that the blog couldn’t relate any better to the type of work I am doing with my blog. I strive to create a similar vibe and develop a similar voice to theirs. They enjoy the same type of cinema and even have numerous films I cannot wait to check out. On the blog, they have a special section with recommended cinema that I am working my way through. Ingmar Bergman’s 1966 film, Persona, is next on my list. 

The blog is very academic and professional for I can tell being a fellow film student. I can tell that they take their studies very seriously and are incredibly passionate about the medium. Their posts are brimming with knowledge of cinematic history and technique, not to mention the high degree of passion that keeps me coming back.

Their audience is mostly comprised of cinephiles and film students alike, ranging from the ages of twenty to seventy. This blog could feed my work by inspiring me to check out more foreign cinema and expand my knowledge of cinematic technique. It is always nice to have a positive youthful peer pressure to become a better cinephile. My site differs from their blog by also focusing heavily on contemporary cinema, as well as many domestically produced films. 

A Postmodern Take On Film Noir

     The film noir genre has played a deeply significant role within the history of cinema, serving as one of the most influential and popular styles of filmmaking. Over the past seventy years, the genre has undergone a very interesting transformation, one that is beautifully illustrated by Roman Polanski’s 2010 film, The Ghost Writer. A pessimism and feeling of trepidation pervade the film noir thriller. Ewan McGregor plays an unnamed ghostwriter tasked with finishing the autobiography of an embattled ex-Prime Minister of England, Adam Lang. Pierce Brosnan’s performance as Lang is captivating and adept, although his garish bravado is in some ways lessened by Olivia Williams’ performance as Ruth Lang, Adam’s disconsolate wife and chief political advisor. Ruth is both exasperated and steadfast, malcontent to the point of sexual mutiny. What surfaces is a story of power and betrayal, an enduring lust, for knowledge and acclaim. Polanski paints a brutal and hostile environment, one most surely not to be trusted. In keeping with the historical convention of film noir, he investigates corruption in a world that is spiritlessly egotistical, from a position of virtually disengaged fatalism.

      

     The concepts of genre, theme, and style are in conjunction with each other within the film, recalling the film noir tradition. Similar to many who came before him, Polanski appeared to be strong on cloaking discovery with apprehension, delight with guilt. His characters make choices we know to be either immoral or ill-advised, and we are drawn to conclude that such is life, where choices like these are inevitable, at least as indicated by the director’s superimposed point-of-view. The fatalistic theme regarding the struggle of the human existence is derived from, and closely associated with, the genre of film noir.  The work encompasses a murder, a cover-up, and an enormous and secretive international power ploy that influences the decision-making of some of the world’s most powerful people. It is surely a stark and forlorn world in which to try and succeed. Polanski makes this clear in his shrewd utilization of grays and other bland colors. Paul Shrader, in his “Notes on Film Noir,” recognizes a concentration with water as an essential style piece of the genre. This holds true in Polanski’s work, as an accident supposedly takes place at sea, a place of commotion and peril in the film.

     

     Therefore, it seems to be that the concepts of genre, theme and style are in conjunction to illustrate an imposing and lasting pessimism. And what about heroism? What happens to the sincere and the virtuous? That’s revealed within the scene of the film, something I’ll hold back from sharing!

The Influence of Scorsese Cinema on Brian De Palma

     Carlito’s Way, a film by Brian De Palma, stars Al Pacino alongside Sean Penn, with a minor role played to great effect by Viggo Mortensen, and another played exactly to expectation by Luis Guzmán, whose character here doubles as Maurice Rodriguez in Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1997 masterwork, Boogie Nights. The influence of Scorsese, specifically his use of tracking shots (one of course thinks of his legendary Copacabana entrance shot, the one that dutifully follows Liotta and Bracco as they wind their way through the kitchen and then the club itself), is tangible in the film. GoodFellas specifically, which was first exhibited three years prior to the release of Carlito’s Way, seems indelibly struck into the mind and imagination of De Palma - which is good if one is interested in making a good picture, bad if originality is a priority in said endeavor. The movement of the camera, which is superb when it follows the action in Carlito Brigante’s (Pacino) club El Paraiso - action that takes place in differing corners of the club and on different floors - is both reminiscent of Scorsese and nonetheless an effective technique, entrancing and sophisticated. The choreography of the players as they move about the camera, entering and exiting the frame indiscriminately, again recalls the the vast quantity of characters populating a film like GoodFellas and their propensity to disappear as quickly as they’ve made themselves known. However, it must be noted that use of this device is executed with greater artistry by Scorsese, as one feels irresistibly compelled towards even the most minor of his characters, while many of those in Carlito’s Way convey a lack of both depth and mystique. 

     The use of voiceover is prevalent throughout the film, as Brigante serves as a guide in many ways, a narrator for the action, much like Henry Hill in GoodFellas. The extant difference here seems to be its effectiveness; Henry Hill’s narration undeniably adds an element to the film, and his explication of the gangster underground he’s become a part of -and of his personal development-, adds a captivating layer to the work, he is in many ways a conductor. Whereas with Carlito’s Way, Brigante’s narration seems tired and contrived, Pacino’s voiceover lacking much inflection or expressiveness. It seems that Scorsese was simply more masterful in his use of voiceover, orchestrating an arresting montage to accompany the narration, images that were attractive and significant in the context of the film. De Palma, unfortunately, decides to linger aimlessly on the bearded face of Brigante, whilst we’re forced to listen to an account of something or another listlessly delivered by Pacino - in Carlito’s Way, I found I would have rather just been shown the content explored in the narration, while with GoodFellas, the words accentuated the scenes we were confronted with. 

     Additionally, the use of music must be discussed. It is appropriate and evocative during the scenes shot in El Paraiso but, like during the two encounters we’re presented with between Brigante and Gail in their apartments, De Palma opts for a ridiculously sentimental and melodramatic score, one that undermines the seriousness of the action and proves distracting. The featured song, “You Are So Beautiful,” performed by Joe Cocker, is, in its own right, a poignant and expressive work. However, it seems poorly applied in the film, an ill-fitting accompaniment to the action and the story. 

     In all, the film’s most perceptible attribute seems to be the degree to which it appears derivative of Scorsese and his GoodFellas, not to mention the appropriation of numerous elements of De Palma’s 1983 epic, Scarface. It is certainly an ambitious film, if to a large extent only executed with mediocrity, and that would normally be more of a saving grace, were it not an ambitious exercise in Scorsese.

Hello, World

The Cinematic Conversation

Truth 24 Frames Per Second

Film Student Vs. Film

I don’t watch many movies.

Watching a film is something of a revelation. To me, watching a movie is like waking up from a nightmare. But, the exact opposite. A period of bliss. A time where I can release and become immersed within a world foreign to my own.

I love watching movies. It’s just that I do not typically have the time to spend ninety minutes or more in front of a screen. Therefore, film to me is a gift; a time of celebration. A celebration of life, of perspective, and of emotion. 

I take this celebration very seriously. And I hope to share it with the world. As the credits roll, I hope for a conversation. I hope for a cinematic conversation.

I am a filmmaker. I am also a film student. One creative, the other academic, I feel blessed to call myself both. I have created this blog in hopes of bringing these two roles together and constructing an environment in which my perspectives as each flourish together. 

I will analyze films with a discerning eye, discuss current trends in filmmaking, and work to compare them to the past one hundred years of cinematic history. Cinema is always changing. As cultures and technology evolve, cinema rides shotgun. I want to scuba dive the depths of these relationships and see what we can find. 

Since cinema’s conception in 1892, at the hands of Thomas Edison and his invention of the kinetoscope, the medium has traveled through four distinctly defined eras: the classical period, post-classical period, modern period, and post-modern period. Today we reside within the era of post-modernism. 

This cinematic conversation will feature films from across the periods, comparing them to one another while exploring each one in its own way. I want to take what I’ve learned from behind the camera, combine it with what I’ve learned in the classroom, and chock it full of what I’ve learned in life, all in the hopes of crafting a discussion you feel like adding to. Film is a medium in which everyone can partake, no matter your age, your race, your gender or your economic standing. It is a medium for the curious and a medium for the passionate. It is a medium for the narrow-minded and a medium for the open-minded. Film is a language that all individuals can read and write. As one of my favorite directors and producers, James Cameron, once said:

Pick up a camera. Shoot something. No matter how small, no matter how cheesy, no matter whether your friends and your sister star in it. Put your name on it as director. Now you’re a director.

We are all directors of our own lens. Through this blog, I hope we can partake in the medium of film together and learn something about ourselves, about our world, and about the very medium that has the power to change it.

Woody Allen Inspires Me

     Last night, I had the sincere privilege of watching Woody Allen’s 1977 Annie Hall. The film, released on the very first year of the postmodern cinema era, left me shellshocked in its execution, experimentalism, and pure genius. The current landscape of postmodernism is ripe with films devoid of character and substance, many serving as regurgitations of prior generic films. Annie Hall is a film unlike anything I have witnessed in the postmodern era, a film whose presence I’d like to be a constant in my life. 

     Allen’s powerful imagination, sincerity in emotion, and creativity in interacting with the medium, help establish Annie Hall as a masterwork, a humorous and poignant tour de force. Evidently drawing from his career as a comedian and past relationships, both familial and romantic, Allen guides the audience through an exploration of the eventual dismantling of a still-beautiful partnership between the film’s eponymous lead (played wonderfully by Diane Keaton) and Allen himself. Despite the overabundantly witty dialogue, and the brilliant acting on display, what remains most memorable from the film is the performance by Keaton of the song, “Seems Like Old Times.” Simple, honest, evocative, and winsome, the performance of the song, and its subsequent invocation in the film’s “finale,” are among the most heartfelt and sincere film “moments” I’ve yet encountered in cinema. It’s both an effective and charming method through which Allen, in this masterstroke, crucially adds a final, hugely endearing, dimension to Hall’s character, resulting in a greater degree of pathos experienced on behalf of Allen’s character. 

     

     The world Allen creates within the screen - the relationships, the tone, the setting, the delivery of dialogue, and unwavering humor - all come together to form a truly beautiful piece of cinema; a work of art that reminds me why I love film. The challenge to craft something of this quality and depth propels me through each of my cinematic endeavors. Allen inspires me to experiment in my own filmmaking pursuits, pursue my own style, and gives me hope for the future of cinema.