ASSIGNMENT #4 – REFLECTIONS

Aidan’s Presentation

Today our sub-class all pitched our ideas to Robin & Paul regarding the research project for the remainder of the semester. I was a little nervous as my chosen topic is quite broad, and I was hoping I hadn’t misunderstood the topic or the options we had. But there were no surprises and the choices people made were what I had expected, or at least nothing too far from what I was expecting. 

Aiden chose the filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson as his research topic, focusing on how he uses film techniques and decoupage to communicate in his films. I considered a similar topic for my project ( I was considering Jim Jarmusch) so I completely understood where he was coming from. I assume he’s seen some if not all of PTA’s films, and is like most of us, intrigued by his filmmaking style and how it ‘works’. I personally shied away from focusing on a single filmmaker as a goal of my project was to expose myself to new films, filmmakers, styles and eras. Although I’ve only seen a handful of Jarmusch’s films, and watching the remainder is something I am very much looking forward to, I decided something more open where I could ostensibly watch and reference almost any film. My findings may not be as concrete and tangible as a focus on a single filmmaker, but hopefully the enlightenment and education from viewing these varied films will work in my favour.

I’m not sure whether we’re supposed to be critically analysing the topic itself or the presentation itself, but I found his presentation to be a little too scripted, as it was clear he was just reading off a pre-written text about his topic. I’ve found in my few years at university that it’s very clear when people do this and it takes a lot away from the actual content of the presentation. People zone out and stop listening, even though you may have done a lot of research. I also wasn’t sure if it was entirely necessary to analyse a scene as an example during the presentation. I understand he was trying to show examples of how PTA’s coverage works but for the same reasons, I found myself zoning out a little, as opposed to others who were simply using some dot points or notes to communicate as opposed to a script.

A WOMAN’S FACE

The two clips provided from the 1938 and 1941  versions of A WOMAN’S FACE provide two distinctly different techniques of communicating the same thing. The Joan Crawford version relies almost entirely on performative acting from both the child, and the woman. I haven’t seen the remainder of the film but from the clip, I can imagine that the child’s performance was written and directed in a way as to illicit a similar feeling of care and sympathy from the audience. He is very ‘cute’ to put it in simple terms, the way he speaks and the things he says. It’s dreadful to think that the woman could hurt him in any way. And Crawford’s performance has a similar effect. From her acting alone you can tell she is upset, having second thoughts, and visually tries to escape the situation as soon as possible. It’s a heavily dramatised rendition of the scene, as if something from the theatre, especially when compared to the Swedish original.

In this version, other more cinematic factors are working to communicate the feeling of the scene. The child seems less performatively ‘cute’ and more akin to a real child, brimming with innocence but not too sure of himself. Bergman’s face communicates a lot, but her delivery also speaks to an inner turmoil. Lighting is also used to communicate these same feelings, the dark shadows over Bergman implying the dark state of mind she’s inhabiting, and the bright lamp next to the child expressing innocence, purity, youth. As she clears the hair away from her face so she can see, her face is free from shadows, as if a realisation of her feelings toward the child. Ending the scene with the light turning off is also a stronger ending to the scene than Crawford running from the room in the remake, it creates a smooth canvas to transition to the next scene, while also suggesting the idea of ‘turning off the light’ as a metaphor for killing the boy. It’s a scene packed with far more symbolism and emotive visuals, while the Crawford version is far more focused on the performances and the physical characters. These are two distinct approaches to storytelling in a drama scene, whether one is more sophisticated than the other is not my place to say, but for me the Swedish original expressed far more, efficiently and effectively, utilising the tools of the cinema as opposed to that of the theatre.

PART 17

As an exercise to understand the decision making required to creatively cover a drama scene, I thought I’d attempt the exercise laid out in PART 17 of our communications. The scene was a simple one on paper, a couple of short interactions in a bookshop, a scene at the checkout, and then a short conversation outside the store. Upon reading, the task seemed more than achievable, and possibly even a little fun! Then I started. Obviously a task like this is harder when the resources required (actors, setting, equipment) are all imaginary, but nonetheless, my attempt at this is a cloudy but still direct way of showcasing the importance of decoupage, and understanding the film as whole, not just individual lines, scenes, shots etc. 

I started by imaging a setting. A small bookshop, simple enough? No! The intricacies of such a setting are EXTREMELY important in order to make creative and effective coverage choices. I was attempting to consider the options, but endless questions fogged my view of the scene. I decided that it would be a set, therefore allowing myself far more room to move. I tried simply describing in words how the scenes may be shot. While the image in my head was clear, when I asked someone else to read it, they struggled to picture the coverage I had in mind. I drew some rudimentary storyboards, and it became a bit clearer, but even then I had spent a considerable amount of time simply trying to come up with a creative way to shoot what would probably end up being around 25 seconds of actual film. I had not yet reached the dialogue, which proved a far more challenging task. When picturing the exchange I struggled to escape the shot-reverse-shot, and my attempts to envision the best appropriate coverage, while remaining artistic. This was a roadblock where the already foggy image of the scene in my head began to dissipate.

I didn’t continue past here, but I think the lesson was learnt. Coverage decisions are challenging to make without the casting and setting finalised. The intricacies required to understand the choices you’re making can not be chopped and changed with different actors or settings, a clear image must already exist for the director to then alter it in their chosen manner. This idea brings me back to the importance of decoupage. To make informed coverage decisions, you must understand the film as a whole, and thus the motivations for every coverage decision. 

Harold & Maude

My girlfriend’s favourite film is Harold & Maude (1973), directed by Hal Ashby. She would constantly talk of watching it as a child, and seemingly no one else she ever asked had seen it either. I was always skeptical of the film, knowing from personal experience that childhood nostalgia can stand in the way of fair criticism, but she finally convinced me to watch it with her yesterday evening. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but has proven quite thought provoking so I thought I’d reflect on it.

It’s an extremely odd film, almost as if made of two separate films combined. Half of the film is an absurd, slapstick comedy, involving the death obsessed and endlessly stoic Harold, who when he isn’t faking his own brutal suicide to trick his detached yet concerned mother, is going to funerals for fun. When his mother organises some young women to come and meet him, he attempts to scare them off with his morbid tricks, pretending to light himself alight, cut off his hand mid conversation, or perform a Seppuku suicide ritual. These scenes are interspersed throughout what is really an off-kilter love story, between Harold, and Maude, a fellow oddball who lives in a tram. They are immediately intrigued by each other, primarily due to their shared fondness for visiting funerals of people they don’t know. Clearly, death is a major theme in the film, as the film flippantly displays these morbid scenes throughout, parterened with the beautiful Cat Stevens soundtrack. The effect is that the idea of death loses all of its consideration as a thing to take too seriously or be scared of. The opening scene is a crafty single take, following Harold from below the torso as he ritually prepares to take his own life, finally hanging himself from the roof. As he hangs, his mother walks in, aware that it is a mock suicide, and simply ignores her son hanging from the roof, neck seemingly snapped. This immediately changes the mood of the film, from somber and sad to light and playful, using Harold’s obsession with death as a way to remove the negative feelings around it. This was very effective to me, the way the film completely adjusts the audience’s expectations and mindset by playing with conventions of not just filmmaking but life, morals and the way human beings are expected to react to certain things. 

But the film is not a comedy, it simply uses comedy to create an absurd cinematic world where death isn’t real and things like love and companionship aren’t as inherently ‘positive’ as usual. This is until the end of the film, where these themes come full circle and the emotional effect is maximal. Stevens’ soundtrack is sublime throughout, adding to the reflective and heartfelt mood that partners with the morbid imagery and absurd humour. I found the marriage of these ideas and moods to be incredible, as they didn’t take away from each other in any way, they were all in unison together. 

I’m not sure what my point is here with this reflection, but I found the film to be very thought provoking and further excited me to the profound effects of cinema, so I wrote about it. And how about that flower scene into the cemetery shot. Not sure if it’s necessarily a highlight of decoupage but a beautiful bit of editing and cinematic vision. 

TOM REILLY: THE BIG PICTURE
Reflection on chapters 4 & 23

WHAT IS A SHOT?: I’ve never considered that a long take and a series of short takes is actually a completely different approach. I considered them to be one and the same, just extending those short shots to one longer one. However by using a single shot as Reilly describes you’re really pursuing a completely different thing, creating that final scene there in that room, not on the editing table. I wonder if directors do this purposely so they have more creative control over the final result. The prospect of not considering blocking until the day of a shoot is a terrifying prospect, but I’m sure there are many directors that work differently to the way woody Allen does as described here. Considering allen’s films are (sometimes) great mainly because of the wonderful scripts, stories, settings, music and moods, as opposed to a striking visual style that other directors pride themselves on. perhaps those directors have severely planned their blocking ahead of time. (But then again, the discussison of Allen’s blocking techniques in chapter 23 suggest he has a tremendous understanding of his visual ideas)

BLOCKING IS OVERLOOKED AND UNDERVALUED: Reilly’s discussion of blocking here rings true for me as one of the major takeaways I have from this semester. When I used to imagine blocking out a scene, I’d consider the actors places in the real world, how would they react to each other in reality, that would garner the most effective blocking and the coverage would come next. I’d often do as Reilly says some do here, let the actors work the room first, then decide. But the importance and inherent possibilities of manipulating the positions of actors in a scene have become clear to me. As he says, “the rhythm and timing’ of the film is arguably just as important as the narrative, and blocking and coverage decisions are vital to creating the right rhythm, as well as obviously the actual photography itself. To hand your photographic decisions to the actor’s seems ridiculous. Watching Bergman’s Persona is a great example of this. Every shot seems perfectly crafted as it’s own piece, married to but not dictated by the drama unveiling on screen. Imagining a mainstream Hollywood director attempting to block out those same scenes, and how dull the film could end up being as a result. The visual aspect of the film is often seemingly overlooked, put to the side as performance and narrative take centre stage.

Contempt – Jean-Luc Godard

As a child and teenager growing up, I was often exposed to arthouse and foreign films, but I never really took a shining to them. I was put off by the subtitles and slow pace, understandably. But there were two enduring images that often stuck with me since then, vivid and distinct memories of seeing something in a film and it lasting with me long after. One was from a scene in a cafe, as a woman hears gun shots from outside, she turns to the window, and as the camera pans, it uses jump cuts in time with the gunshots to create a cool effect. The other, a very long single take shot of a traffic jam in the French countryside, the chaos and colours exciting me even as a young boy. There was something about these images that transcended the films themselves (that I didn’t understand or was even fully aware of), and have stayed with me ever since. It turns out that both images are from the films of Jean-Luc Godard, a director who despite his obvious influence and importance in cinema history, I have never properly explored. I started with My Life to Live, and was delighted to find that famous cafe jump-cut to be just as exciting as the first time I saw it. I moved on next to Contempt, from 1963.

The film left me quite stunned in it’s beauty, not only in visual style but in form. Film’s like these need time and repeat viewings to fully appreciate them, so this will less be an analysis as a discussion of thoughts provoked from the film. The dominant feeling from the film is that of an isolation and a disconnect, as these two lovers, who seem so obsessed and vital to each other in the opening of the film, become so disillusioned and disaffected as it continues. The setting is bright, loud, sunny and warm, but somehow these usually dominant feelings don’t dominant the film, they are simply set dressing, a juxtaposition with that of the failing marriage, the sleazy producer and the frustrated director. Yet they all seem to shrink in comparison to the imagery of the gods, statues shot like they are just that, gods. The empty backgrounds putting no limit to their possible size, George Delerue’s epic soundtrack elevating the visuals even higher.

And how about the apartment scene? The apartment is beautiful, but it seems cluttered. They’re together but they seem so far, like they can’t find that right spot. The camera constantly putting literal walls and structures between them. There’s a point where the two are conversing, the camera tracks from left to right as each speaks, never letting the two share the frame. An analysis of the film describes Camille as representing the instinctual, Paul the logical. She can’t quite explain why she feels how she does, and she’s very unpredictable, but she believes what she says. And Paul can’t work out what’s wrong, by his logic everything should be fine. This rings true with both characters and their actions throughout the film, including Camille’s eventual death. I won’t even begin to analyse the orange couch, orange towel, orange walls. It’s mesmerising but I don’t quite know why.

I could share a bout 6 or 7 images from this film that I’m just enamoured with. This film has really helped me take a big step to move from appreciation of film as a narrative device to that of a visual medium akin to painting or sculpture. I was not waiting to see what would happen next plot wise, as much as I was on the edge of my seat as to see how the next shot would be constructed, how the space would be utilised, how colours, textures, shadows, everything would be manipulated to create something that feels so cinematic and performative, but still remains real and resonant to real life.

I will be definitely watching more of Godard’s films.