Film of the Year

DIY'er

2009-05-20T11:31:30-07:00

I've had to requisition most of my writing time for a number of long-delayed home improvement projects so there will be a hiatus in the Film of the Year blog until mid-June (at least). Enjoy the spring everyone!

Something About the Clinch

2009-04-01T11:52:51-07:00

The challenges and opportunities widescreen formats present to film style have been on my mind ever since last week's post saw the debut of CinemaScope in this blog's journey across film history--even, or perhaps I should write especially certain kinds of shots we take for granted. For instance, close-up cinematography is effected by the wider shape of the frame. Classic film fans are well aware of the extreme feeling of intimacy that results when the entire frame is filled by one actor's face or when two actors' faces are positioned close together in a close-up shot. For example, here's a classic style Hollywood clinch between Joseph Cotten and Jennifer Jones framed by William Dieterle in Portrait of Jennie (1948):

Now, if we think of the loooong rectangular shape of the CinemaScope frame then it quickly becomes apparent that the exact same intimacy isn't really possible because humans don't have loooong rectangular heads. There's going to be space, a lot of space, left on either side of the frame and we're going to be distanced from the lip-locking actors. Below is an example of a close-up clinch between Marlon Brando and Jean Simmons captured in CinemaScope by Henry Koster for Desirée (1954):

In comparison, the snogging in Scope is attractive enough but it's not quite as intimate as the frame above. I look forward to discovering how directors work around this particular difficulty as the blog moves ahead. Will they leave close-ups as we knew them behind, mask off part of the frame to create an Academy ratio shaped squarish rectangle for such moments, frame just part of the face(s), or create a new style of intimacy? Only time (and future blog posts) will tell...

Cinema Silhouette #7

2009-03-26T11:08:57-07:00

Norman Maine (James Mason) contemplating suicide in the remake of A Star is Born (1954).

1954: Is W I D E R Better?

2009-03-25T16:33:30-07:00

A Star is Born (1954)
Directed by George Cukor
174 min.; U.S.A.; Color; Multi-Channel

On to 1954--and what a difference a year makes! In place of the typical squarish-rectangular frame, the black and white image, and the monophonic sound I see a full color image stretched nearly twice as wide and hear Judy Garland's musical number burst forth from multiple channels of audio. After watching fifty-odd years worth of movies in the Academy ratio these are welcome changes for me. Reading through old newspapers and magazines I discovered that these screen innovations were often advertised--and are sometimes still written about today--as brand new advances in filmmaking circa mid-1950s. In fact, these innovations really amount to gimmicks that had been under development for years. And it's ironic that I'm viewing this picture on a television because widescreen, color, multi-channel sound, and other gimmicks like 3-D pictures were parts of the studios' response to the growing popularity of television back in the 1950s. Back then the heads of the major studios worried over what they believed to be a direct correlation between the decline in motion picture attendance and the millions of television sets entering American homes. The question they asked of themselves was: how do you convince families in the suburbs to travel to downtown movie houses and pay to a see a motion picture when they can watch broadcast entertainment for free in the comfort of their own living rooms? No one seemed to have a definite answer but the studios gambled on various gimmicks to win spectators. Unfortunately nothing would reverse the box-office decline and by the end of the decade weekly theater attendance sunk to only half of what it had been at its peak back in 1946.

Before we get to this Film of the Year I just want to take a moment to mention that after half a century some still claim that TV was solely responsible for this decline in attendance. For example, just before viewing A Star is Born I watched an episode of You Must Remember This: The Warner Bros. Story (2008), a television documentary about the history of Warner Bros., The doc is a fine survey history narrated by Clint Eastwood with lots of other famous directors and actors contributing to the discussion and it helped me get a better handle on the context in which this week's film was produced. The doc begins by talking about massive layoffs at the studios after WWII but, when it gets to the years in question it states "Doris Day was about all the studio had for good news in the early 1950s. Television had risen out of nowhere and by mid-decade had cost Hollywood half its audience, Warners half its profits, and serious people thought the movies were doomed." The doc doesn't give us any examples nor point us to sources to back up the claims. I'm easily convinced that delightful Doris Day is good news, but the rest is an oversimplification. First of all, television did not "appear out of nowhere." It was, in fact, a technology developing throughout the century and "serious people" had been discussing its potential ramifications on cinema and radio for years. By 1948 there were about a million sets in the U.S., nearly all in large urban areas like New York. In the mid-1950s the FCC worked out licensing and television stations opened up around the country and business boomed. Secondly, television wasn't solely responsible for the decline at the box office. Historians tell us that the decline in attendance was actually, like all events in history, the result of a multitude of factors. For example, American society and culture was transformed after WWII by the move of large numbers to the suburbs away from downtown movie houses; the Baby Boom brought a new focus on child-raising; increasing spending power coincided with new and more options for leisure-time of which television was but one alternative, and so on. In the early-1950s studio heads like Jack Warner may have been convinced that television was solely at fault for the decline in his business (which incidentally began back in the late 1940s), but to hear the same tired claim repeated in a brand new documentary is odd and irritating. In any case, gimmickry alone wouldn't reverse trends brought about by these changes. Back to our film...

Life reflecting art or art reflecting life? A television camera (left) and a film camera (center) capture a Hollywood premiere in this unusual shot from the opening of A Star is Born. The premiere of the motion picture received similar coverage and was broadcast on television.

I chose to view A Star is Born (1954) for this Film of the Year because its production history is a veritable checklist of technical, promotional and content gimmicks used by Warner Bros. to lure audiences into the theaters. For example, at various stages the picture was considered for WarnerScope, sterescopic (3-D) filming, non-anamorphic widescreen, Technicolor, and, finally, Fox's CinemaScope and Eastman Color. Moreover, the picture is a musical with big production numbers; it's a remake of William Wellman's classic Hollywood fable; it features the return of Judy Garland after a two-year hiatus from the screen; the studio gambled millions on it despite declining box-offices; and it was promoted with a major advertising campaign, televised sneak previews, a sound track LP tie-in, and a star-studded Hollywood premiere shown on live television (the latter is included on the DVD version and for fans of Hollywood stars of the 1950s it's almost as fascinating to watch as the movie itself).

In the film, Garland plays singer and aspiring actress Esther Blodgett who meets and marries box office star Norman Maine (James Mason). He uses his connections to help her career get started while his own career plummets due to alcoholism. Does Esther have what it takes to rise above adversity and become a true star? Director George Cukor presents us with nearly three hours of fabulous singing, dancing, and melodrama in full color CinemaScope before we find out.

A number of aesthetic opportunities for motion pictures have been attributed to widescreen formats such as CinemaScope. For example, they open up the frame and distances actors from each other and the mise en scène, presents a continuous space and suggests a connection between objects within that space, and increases the illusion of depth. One often cited benefit of working in widescreen is an increased psychological insight into characters' experience of the environment. That can be the case but it isn't necessarily exclusive to widescreen movies. Some early concerns about the format that I found in various old film reviews suggest that the expanded shape presents unexpected challenges for editing because cutting forces the eye jump around the extra-wide image to find the area of focus. As a result long takes and point-of-view or eye-line cutting were developed and challenged traditional continuity style editing.

I noticed Cukor working in the extra-wide CinemaScope frame in a number of novel ways, but the cinematic advantages of widescreen versus the old format and the differences between motion pictures and television were apparently on the mind of the producers and Cukor because these technologies appear prominently in a number of key scenes. I don't know if it's a result of Cukor experimenting with the format for the first time, or directions found in the screenplay, or dictates by studio brass (anyone out there have a production history for this picture handy?) but what I see on the screen looks like a rather self-conscious response to the aforementioned screen changes. For me, part of the fun of watching A Star is Born turned out to be noticing the various appearances of filmmaking and television technology and seeing how they're used in the story. I've noted three of my favorite instances below:

One of the most obvious comparisons of the standard Academy format with widescreen CinemaScope occurs when Esther and Norman attend a preview of her breakout picture at the Marcopia Theater. Cukor begins the sequence by showing the film as projected on the screen inside the theater. In a frame within a frame, and a motion picture within a motion picture, we see the final moments of a musical number in the Academy ratio. A few dancers can be seen around Blodgett, but they're cut off by the boundaries of the square-ish frame. She dominates the image and we can barely discern anything about the background. The open curtains on either side would likely be moved to the edges of the projected image in an actual theatrical exhibition, but here they help to reinforce the additional frame space made possible by the widescreen format.

After a cutaway to Esther and Norman watching in the audience, Cukor returns to the picture-within-a-picture for an exceptional extended musical sequence that recounts a movie star's rise to fame--only this time we see it in all the widescreen glory of CinemaScope. I screencapped the musical number at nearly the same point as above to compare the two formats. CinemaScope allows Cukor to crowd the frame with colorfully costumed performers so that image projects not only Garland's energy, but that of the entire chorus and the background. The visual impact outshines that of the previous image.

Another of my favorite examples occurs when Esther receives an Oscar in a scene midway through A Star is Born. The actual Academy award ceremony was first broadcast on television in 1953 and the scene encourages us to compare television with cinema in a creative way. Take a look at the screencaps below:

Notice which part of the frame draws your attention? In the scene, Esther is standing just off-center on the stage holding her newly-won award. On the left we see a television camera crew dolly-in on her while she gives an acceptance speech. On the right we see how this movement of the camera affects the image broadcasted to the nation's TV screens. At least three things are happening here: One, as the unbroken image on the right transforms from a full-shot to a medium close-up Esther's words and facial expressions seem to have an increased emotional impact (I noticed similar close-ups during the most recent Academy awards broadcast). Second, because the human eye is attracted to, among other things, movement, light, and size on the screen we're drawn to look at the televised speech on the right part of the screen instead of the long-shot of the event unfolding even though it takes up the majority of screen space--in effect, we stop watching the movie and begin watching television within the movie! But Cukor isn't finished yet because he sets up what I'd like to call a comparison shot...

Aware that we're looking at the close-up of Garland on the television in the long-shot Cukor cuts away to a drunken Norman rudely interrupting Esther's speech and then cuts to a close-up of Garland in CinemaScope. In a comparison of close-ups, CinemaScope certainly comes out on top. The size, framing, light and color of the Scope shot makes us forget all about the fuzzy little black and white square that held our attention mere moments before.

Comparative home viewing choices make for an interesting background during a scene in which Norman is told that the studio is letting him go. Home viewing of motion pictures was a popular pastime among those who could afford the equipment and had the knowledge to operate it before television offered a relatively worry and work free alternative. In the top image above, Norman and Esther show a newsreel and a feature film on their impressive home theater system during a cocktail party at their oceanside mansion. In the lower image, Norman catches the film's producer sneaking off to watch a fight on Norman's tiny black and white television set in another room. Packaged newsreels like the one in the top image began to fade from screens as television news came into its own during the 1950s. Live coverage of events, such as the boxing match the producer prefers to watch over his own picture, is another advantage TV has over the movies. "Traitor," Maine says with a smile.

I mentioned above that it feels ironic to watch a picture like this on the hated television. But if 1954 is remembered as a year when gimmicks were promoted as the future of Hollywood then a far more grand irony can be found. For, Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront (1954), which features rising star Marlon Brando, taut direction, and a socially relevant script but none of the aforementioned screen innovations, swept the Academy Awards and received some of the highest critical praise for that year. That must have stung the studio heads who banked on widescreen and the other expensive gimmicks. But knowing this it seems natural to ask the question, is wider better? I have to admit to being a fan of the experience of watching the wider image. In fact, I've got Rear Window (1954) and Carmen Jones (1954) in the DVD stack ready to view next. But, I'm also aware that a wider image cannot improve a bad picture any more than 3-D is likely improve something like Cat Women of the Moon (1954). Though 3-D receded to a relative rarity, widescreen and some of the other screen innovations would become parts of the eventual mechanization of "movies" as something wider than Academy ratio but less than CinemaScope, in color, with sync sound, and multichannel audio. But from an artistic standpoint it seems that the success of On the Waterfront is a reminder that better technology is no guarantee--or even necessary--for better films.

Favorite Film Characters Meme

2009-03-23T10:35:16-07:00

Just before I went on vacation I was pleasantly surprised to see long-lost bloggin' pal Squish revisit this blog after quite a hiatus. I've missed his unique voice around here. The vituperative one didn't drop by to share critical insight on the last film of the year though. Instead he extended an invitation to participate in his latest meme, Favorite Film Characters. I've been distracted from blogging lately, and I'm just about memed-out, but 'ol Squish posted one of the very first comments here way, way, waaaaay back so I figure I owe him one.

First, the rules:

1.) Name 10 film characters that are your favorite and explain why. We aren't talking about the actor who played them. Hamlet, Sherlock Holmes or Bond may be your favorite filmic sight on screen but you may hate the Mel Gibsons, Basil Rathbones or George Lazenbys who've played them. Of course no one's stopping you from mentioning your favorite players if you like.

1a.) I capped myself at ten, but don't let that number stop you.

2.) Tag 5 more film bloggers when you're done, email them, let 'em in on it, link back.

3.) Read their posts and enjoy!

Ok, the toughest part of following the meme became apparent as soon as I read the rules: there's simply far too many characters whom I like to possibly list them all. I also didn't want to make yet another top ten list. So I've decided to proceed a little bit differently by breaking five of my favorite characters into their primary ingredients to better understand why they're among my favorites. Here goes nothing...

Recipes for five favorite film characters:

The Little Tramp (as played by Charles Chaplin in The Kid, The Gold Rush, etc.)

Take one limber underdog

Mix with one cup heavy sentimentality

Stir in a cup of dogged determination

Fold in a teaspoon of 19th century idealism

Add one tablespoon disrespect for the fourth wall

Sprinkle a dash of Max Linder

Beat with a slapstick until funny

Will Kane (as played by Gary Cooper in High Noon)

(a cocktail)

One part fear

One part love

One part duty

Shake up with a fair-haired beauty

Serve with a hot iron

Daffy Duck (various Looney Tunes, Merrie Melodies)

Locate a duck suffering from acute fits of mania

Baste in frustration and self-pity

Season with bravado, tenacity, ingenuity, and an uncontrolled temper

Heat to the boiling point and stand well back

Sam Spade (as played by Humphrey Bogart in The Maltese Falcon)

Hard-boil a fast talking private detective

Combine with a pragmatic approach to the job and a strong personal moral code

Twist a wry sense of humor overtop

Serve with bourbon on the side

Ninotchka (as played by Greta Garbo in Ninotchka)

(a dessert)

Scoop one ice goddess into a foreign bowl

Mix with two opposed ideologies

Pour on mystique and seduction

Sprinkle an enigmatic laugh

Top with the Lubitsch touch

According to the rules I'm supposed to tag five others now. However, I'm feeling generous so everyone in the blogosphere who feels like playing along with this meme should consider themselves tagged. Now I'm off to devour more movies...

Hell on Portland Exposé

2009-02-20T10:20:17-08:00

I finished reading the mail, leaned back hard into the office chair, and tipped up the glass held in my left hand. A slug of rotgut-laced coffee burned its way down to a perennially empty stomach; both the gut and the chair groaned in complaint. The note had said that Brian Darr, the famous sleuth and blog scribbler who covers the Hell on Frisco Bay, was coming up from Frisco to catch some pictures at the 32nd Portland International Film Festival. He knew I squatted in Stumptown but not exactly where. He suggested a face to face. Unsure of his motives, my mind leafed through the hundreds of times we've corresponded for a hint of danger. Was he interested in a jovial chat about the pictures or setting an angry record straight? What if our online friendship broke down once we looked each other in the eye? There was no way to be sure. So, for now I played it cool.

Sure, sure, let's meet, I wrote back. But where? It had to be someplace very public in case things got ugly; someplace where I could sit with my back to the wall so there'd be no surprises. I suggested a downtown gin joint I used to frequent back when I wore a badge that said "working stiff." It's perfect: good food, plenty of sauce, and a guy behind the bar who knows it's sometimes healthier to look the other way. It's also quiet enough that we could hear each other sweat a little.

First though I had a previous engagement to fulfill at PIFF. I had arranged to be at a screening of Sugar (2008), a sports drama that traces the rise and fall of a minor league pitcher recruited from the Dominican Republic. It's a human story injected with plenty of laughs and pathos. Very heartfelt, entertaining stuff. It didn't rise to that elusive level called "spectacular," but how many films do? Then again, maybe I was just preoccupied with the needles poking me 'cause I knew he was somewhere in the dark screening room. I looked around and tried to spot him as the flickering projector caused shadows to leap about the walls. No luck. For all I knew he could be sitting right next to me...

I'll skip the minor details and simply write that we indeed met and repaired to the tavern I'd picked out. I sat with my back to the wall as planned. We both ordered something strong, quaffed it back, and settled into our chairs a bit. There we were. Eye to eye. A moment passed. Two.

Then it happened. One of us said, "so, what did you think of the movie?" And the floodgates opened. We spent the rest of the evening rambling on subjects as diverse as Sugar, memes, Sunrise (1927), F.W. Murnau, The Mortal Storm (1940), UPA cartoons, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, camping, Flesh and the Devil (1926), overlooked films from late 1930s, John Ford's Four Sons (1928), silent film screenings, The Steel Helmet (1951), the Film of the Month Club, G.I. Joe (1945), books, Gate of Hell (1954), Thailand, Intolerance (1916), work, Marines Who Never Returned (1963), family, Gone with the Wind (1939), Georges Méliès, and writing about our favorite things. We got along famously. I recognized the same smart, genuine, good humored guy that appears in his writing, and I thanked him for all the times he pulled something out of my post topics that I didn't realize was there. It felt as though we'd known each other for years and we tried our best to squeeze a million conversations into a few short hours.

Afterwards, while I listened to the click-clack of the light rail carrying me back home in the darkness, it occurred to me that Brian and I have known each other for years if only through our writing in the blogosphere. I suppose not every friendship demands that you look a guy in the mug, especially with the technology available to us these days. But it's nice to shake hands once in a while.

PIFF: Idiots and Angels

2009-02-19T11:09:16-08:00

Last night the 32nd Annual Portland International Film Festival brought the sturm and drang of Idiots and Angels (2008), the latest animated feature by Portland son Bill Plympton, to the Whitsell auditorium. Plympton was on hand to introduce the picture and fielded questions afterward. This screening was a thrill for me because I've been a fan of his fantastically bizarre animated films since being exposed to one of them at an animation series back in the 1980s (a decade Plympton referred to as the "second golden age of animation" last night). Since then he's created dozens of shorts and a number of animated features including Hair High (2004). His latest feature film, Idiots and Angels, is a dark comedy about a man's battle for his soul.

In the picture, a malevolent brute's life is turned upside down when he discovers wings growing on his back. Despite his best (and nauseating) efforts to remove them they continue to grow causing him no end of grief and embarrassment. Worse yet for our antihero, the wings force him to commit acts that are against his nature--that is, for good not ill. By the end of the picture the reluctant angel may learn that with great power comes great responsibility, but not before he's physically and emotionally put through the proverbial ringer--and it's one hell of a ringer.

Visually and dramatically the piece is dominated by darkness and sparse details. The shadowy characters exist in a universe of ghostly grays, browns and greenish-yellows. And surprisingly, the picture benefits from the absence of any dialogue.

"Music becomes the dialogue," Plympton said.

It's true, the music of Tom Waits, Pink Martini, 3 Leg Torso, and others provide cues to the emotional highs and lows, the outlandish twists and turns of the film; the storytelling becomes stronger without dialogue hindering the dramatic action. I'll bet many reviews of the moody film will include the overused term "noir-ish," but the music combines with acute angles, shafts of light, high contrast images, and use of close-up and also conjures images from silent-era expressionism in this fan's cinematic imagination. Plympton mentioned the work of David Lynch for comparison but, I wonder if any silent films also form part of his influences here (I wish I'd thought to ask him last night).

Idiots and Angels is a tale as deep and soulful as any we're likely to enjoy from the filmmaker. However, it's an unfettered imagination that makes Plympton so much fun to watch; no one seems to revel as much in manipulating the physical form or playing with our expectations.

After the picture, the affable Plympton told the audience that Idiots and Angels differed from much of his other work which is "full of sex and violence." When this elicited laughter from some, Plympton looked surprised. This picture is more meaningful, perhaps even spiritual, he assured us. I suppose what constitutes a lot of violence and sex in a seventy-eight minute picture is debatable. Regardless, it's darkly funny and a wild ride.

Idiots and Angels shows again tonight February 19th at 6:45 p.m. at the Regal Broadway Cinemas in Portland. For more information see the official PIFF website.