madisfilmblog

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The Mummy (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

I do not normally enjoy adventure films like this, but boy was I pleasantly entertained by this. I will admit that I decided to partake in some...substance usage before sitting down to watch this and while normally I tend to overanalyze when I do that, this time I was very much immersed and having fun instead.

I was not immediately sold over though, I thought the introduction was pretty straightforward, very concrete and engaging but I felt awkward about Ancksunamun since her reveal on screen was a shot of her walking towards Imhotep wearing a meshed outfit that covered maybe 40% of her body. Right from the get-go the Egyptian woman was sexualized. But I told myself: "You're just a little out of it, it was 1999, you'll talk about it later,"

What really truthfully sold me on the amount of fun I was going to have was the title card. I paused the movie and shouted because I was so excited by what I was seeing: old shitty computer generated graphics. I was so glad to discover later on that this was not the only time they would use these graphics in the film.

It is one thing to use CGI on it's own in a space by using an actor in a suit, overlaying the graphic and adding layers to make the image on screen look more realistic and it is another thing to blend an actor and CGI together where both parts mold together. My favorite example of the latter is towards the end of the film after the fight scene in the crypt with all of Imhotep's mummies. Brendan Fraser's (beautiful) character, Rick O'Connell, and the reconstructed Imhotep are fighting each other, while Evie and Jonathan attempt to open the book to end everything.

Evie begins to read from the book. Imhotep snaps his head and looks off to the left side of the frame in shock, then towards the top of the stairs above them, at which a ghastly blue CGI carriage with horses quickly runs down and flows through Imhotep, separating his soul, illuminating his body and casting it through the fog before sucking it back with the carriage. Now my favorite part of this...Imhotep's physical human body is still in the room with them, he chases his soul away as if he can get it back. He turns around. He is mad. After approaching the group, a close shot of the profiles of Imhotep and Rick alongside the sound effect of a blade tells us that Rick has plunged his sword through Imhotep's body.

Imhotep stumbles back into the black pool. Sinking down, a vine-like substance creeps up his body. The black pool is swallowing him whole! But this is not it! The whole pool is bubbling and suddenly extremely reflective... almost as if it has transformed from a regular pool to a computer generated one! I had to pause because I was so overwhelmed by this next shot. I very much enjoy the grittiness of old internet graphics and The Mummy delivered by showing me a shot of Imhotep, shoulders up, surrounded by thrashing black pool. The spot where his torso meets the water is foggy like it has been airbrushed. I can see the pixels around his body where Arnold Vosloo's physical body meets the CGI. Slowly, frame by frame they delete more and more of him, overlaying visuals of decay until he is the CGI mummy he was when his character was first introduced (aside from the exposition).

AH! Not only is it so nostalgic to behold, but it makes me feel so out of touch with technology nowadays! I want these graphics back! They did the job, and made it feel just a little goofier. I think if we remade this film exactly the same today, the advanced CGI would make it more terrifying and less fun! The jaw-opening, specifically, would be way more unsettling and unnerving with modern CGI. It was already off-putting in this film, but I really believe if we did that nowadays it would find itself on the fence of body horror.

Alright, on a separate note, I wanted to talk about this one part of the Glynn reading because I found it interesting in conjunction with the mummies in this film. It reads, "...they are relentless and deaf to all pleas of mercy. It is their inaccessibility that makes them so frightening because, as Bruce Kawin suggests, 'what one can talk with, one can generally deal with.'" Many of the mummies in this film are incapable of speech, mainly just exhibiting grunts and noises or nothing at all. Imhotep is the only mummy that seems capable of speaking words and these words are spoken before he regains his mortal body. Deafness is the most interesting part of that quote to me because in the ending fight scene, no one attempts to speak to Imhotep's army and opts for slaughtering them all. They do not speak, they cannot be swayed to do anything but kill, therefore they are not pleaded with. Imhotep is also not pleaded with, but is granted more than just attempts on his being.

Imhotep can communicate, but not to everyone. Only those who can understand and speak ancient Egyptian can speak to him, like Evie and Beni. In fact, when first faced with Imhotep, upon learning that Beni understood his language, he was spared. What one can talk with, one can generally deal with!

Even though Evie can also communicate with him, her position as a piece in his plan to reanimate his lover, it makes it more difficult for her to appeal to him. Granted her and Beni are the only two who can really "deal" with him, Evie has to take more drastic measures to communicate and be heard by Imhotep. An example is when she kisses him to save Rick, Jonathan, and the captain from the dust storm he had conjured. Instead of attempting to speak the language he understands, she immediately jumped towards something more physical that would get the job done. Brave woman, for sure.

And the final thing I want to say is... if Brendan Fraser had actually died when making this film like he almost did, I would be heartbroken. He is quite the guy, and I think no one else would have played Rick O'Connell like he did. 10/10 shooting at the dust cloud! 10/10 man of my dreams. I hope he made a nice hefty check from this, like he deserved!

[madisfilmblog]

2012 (2009) dir. Roland Emmerich

My god, what an awful movie. Despite that, I was delightfully entertained! I wish I have the same amount of insane luck these characters seem to have when the world comes to an end!

I used to be terrified of this movie. I think I must have seen the trailer, realized that 2012 was not that far away, and expected it to be real. Later, when my dad was watching this out on the couch, I was too scared to leave my parents' room to go to the kitchen because that meant I would have see the film. This and Jurassic Park (I did not mess with that T-rex munching that guys head) were the only films I can remember having a visceral reaction to when I was younger. I used to stare at the horror movie dvd cases at the dvd rental store with intrigue but 2012 and Jurassic Park was where I drew the line.

So I was pleased to face this "fear" and I want to smack younger me across the back of her head. Scared of what? This film was the most seriously unserious thing I have seen in a while, and it was an hour and forty minutes longer than it needed to be. For a film soaked in urgency, you would think they would pick up the pace a little bit.

I found it interesting that the reading described this film as "antimodern". I do not disagree, I think there are many ways that shines through, an the places that are shown in destruction and disaster is what the reading focuses on the most. All of the places shown in the United States, aside from D.C., "symbolize greed and consumption" like Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Many of the places the film shows us outside of the United States have a heavy focus on religion, and the destruction of religious monuments, places of worship, etc. like the Vatican or the 'Christ the Redeemer' statue in Rio de Janeiro. It seems like a very stark difference between the United States and everywhere else. A destruction of greed and consumption versus the destruction of faith and history. The greed point is very heavy-handed when it comes to the ships and the whole plot point of getting onto it, but faith is not a prominent theme, at least not as prominent as faith in the traditional family unit's strength to return to its original state.

Before I discuss the nuclear family unit, I just want to complain about our main character, Jackson. First off, John Cusack GET OUT OF HERE. Switch roles with Woody Harrelson for the love of GOD. It wouldn't be enough to drag this out of 'bad-movieland' but it'd be a step up. Second, would a limo driver for a billionaire Russian family not have a nice enough paycheck? Jackson is so... slummy. Maybe this is the movie saying that even the people directly working for billionaires can not get a livable wage, but the Russians did not exactly survive, so perhaps that is the film's way of punishing them for not giving Jackson a hefty check twice a month.

I did mention this in class, but the scene at the grocery store with Kate and Gordon was one of the first instances of an "anti-non nuclear family" approach that I truly felt was shoved down the throat. Gordon is trying to crack into Kate, further their relationship so much that he suggests having a child, and basically dogs on Kate's ex-husband (he's published!) so much so that she has to defend him. After all, he is the father of her children! All of this to say, Gordon faces Kate, ignores the tremors and the aisles trembling, and says, "I don't know, honey, I feel like there's something pulling us apart," and boy was he right! The tectonic plates took it from there, and pulled them apart from each other, literally. This is a very clear rejection of Gordon's intentions of creating a blended family with Kate. As a product of divorce (and one of the two siblings in my family who can brag that their parents are still together) and a fantastic member of a fairly functional blended family, what the hell Earth?

My favorite shot of this whole scene is when Gordon and Kate are holding hands as the cracks begin to become louder with the blankest expressions on their faces. They are facing the camera at eye level, but look only slightly down, not even at their own feet which is where they would see a crack in the floor. Goofy stuff.

A lot of time passes in the this film to get to this last point, but once again the film is heavy-handed with the reunion of the traditional family unit. This film's death count is literally worldwide. Not many of the deaths of characters in this film are particularly sad, at least to me, but Gordon... the man the kids have been saying is not all that bad...when he died, not even the characters cared. This was absolutely necessary for Jackson to swoop back in and get his wife back. Fortunately for him, he did not have to do any heavy emotional lifting because Kate was in fact, not grieving.

It never really mattered why Jackson and Kate got divorced. I can guarantee it would have something to do with Jackson, but alas, it did not matter. Kate was written to be open to anything related to her ex-husband with the necessary amount of bad blood between them. They were divorced, after all. There are so many ways a film can communicate the same exact attitude towards the institution of family, but 2012 seemed to want to go big or go home. All of the typical roadblocks were just minor speed bumps. The kids liked their father, with the exception of the son who was won over fairly quick. Gordon was very easy to kill off once his incredible flight skills were no longer needed. Kate was a very strong doormat.

Recipe for family.

[madisfilmblog]

The Quiet American (2002) dir. Phillip Noyce

This is not a film to watch on a TV with a massive window mirroring it. The glare was insane against the darkness of this film and there was absolutely nothing I could do to fix it. No curtain, no making the sun go down myself. But, I remained entertained!

I think I have one complaint about this film and it is that the relationship triangle between Fowler, Phuong, and Pyle was so not subtle in its more encompassing meaning. An American, a Vietnamese woman, and a British man. Phuong was never a woman, but a metaphor for Indochina and what it means to more powerful world leaders.

However, this love triangle, the power imbalance between Phuong and the two men, and the setting of Indochina reminded of a book that I had read over the course of two days last summer called The Lover by Marguerite Duras. Duras's novel is a semi-autobiogaphical account of a relationship she had in the mid 1920's in Indochina. This is about thirty years before the events of the film take place, but the impact of empire, Duras's experience being a French woman born and raised in French Indochina are still relevant in relation to The Quiet American.

Duras was born and raised in French Indochina, and she was raised very poor. In her novel, her relationship with her mother was strained, her older brother was difficult and rude, she loves her younger brother but he passes away and she blames it on her mother and older brother. Aside from all of the parts of the novel where she discusses her family, her relationship with her titular "Lover" is where the power imbalance and ideas of empire shine through.

In Duras's account, she is fifteen and a half when she meets her unnamed lover who is a twenty-seven year old Chinese man who is the heir to his father's business of running impoverished neighborhoods in Saigon. Not only does her lover have an age difference, but a wealth difference as well. In Phuong's case, she has become in need of making money after the death of her father, and her age gap between her and Fowler is vast.

Despite Phuong being a native Vietnamese woman and Duras being a French woman born in Indochina, both of them find themselves romantically involved with men who are not from the area and are there on empirical business. Each of them have a socioeconomic gap and racial disparity that would have been frowned upon by the colonial community. Even though The Quiet American is more intentional towards showing a conflict of interest in Indochina between the United States and Great Britain, I think Duras's novel is a really good look at how the colonial context of the relationship reflected the complexities of empire in Indochina. But alas, the book is not what we are here to discuss, even though I made the connection and it helped me make sense of that relationship that Phuong shared with mainly Fowler, but Pyle as well.

Speaking of Phuong, I wanted to briefly touch on her costumes. I would say that her costumes are a real indicator of the status of "ownership".

Throughout the film, Phuong is seen wearing more traditional Vietnamese fashions. High necks, soft and light fabrics, delicate colors, floral patterns, etc. I want to note that these are the fashions she wears when her relationship with Fowler is strong. Fowler's costuming does not reflect his relationship with Phuong and Vietnamese culture but of a traditional way a colonial man would dress. Pyle is the same way. Infamously, in the scene in the club, Phuong wears a high-neck long-sleeved floor-length white gown with her hair slicked back into a low bun. Fowler wears a dark suit while Pyle wears a white suit. This is the scene where he dances with her, and the lighting on the dance floor makes both of them glow in a way. There is also a shot of them sitting at their table with Pyle placed between Fowler and Phuong. Pyle's white suit disrupts and blends more towards Phuong, indicating that he will be interjecting their relationship very soon, which he does.

Once Fowler's relationship with Phuong crumbles and Pyle swoops in, there are a few shots of Phuong wearing more traditional 1950's silhouettes and designs for American women. Even the wedding dress she wears later in the film fits this. Despite being stuck underneath these men, it is implied through her costuming that she may have more personal freedoms with Fowler than she has with Pyle, perhaps indicating that maybe Indochina is better off with Great Britain than it would the United States.

As the film progresses, Pyle is unveiled as a more negative force and a liar behind a facade. The reading says, "Up to his last meeting with Fowler, Pyle projects a dangerous ignorance that cannot be controlled or cured, only eliminated." I find this particular quote interesting. At the club, Fowler tells Pyle he is fine to dance with her because he "likes to see her dance", but once Pyle oversteps that boundary and wishes to have Phuong all for himself, Fowler fights back.

Pyle's involvement in the conflict and the bombing in the square is reflective of that same attitude towards Phuong. I said this in class, but to dip in and share a resource is okay, but to take, alter, and destroy that resource is where nations draw the line and enter into conflict. That's given, but represented here. Fowler, despite having little political power other than being a journalist, allows for Pyle to be murdered not only to halt his harmful acts against civilians in the name of war, but also to remove him and separate him from Phuong, who he is no longer with but maintains a sense of protection and ownership over.

I am going to end this on a light note by saying that if Brendan Fraser wanted to disrupt my relationship with a man who was ... give or take 30-40 years older than me, my bags will be packed. I am out the door, let's go. But also, his character was kind of scummy so if I were Phuong, it really would be a take his money and run sort of deal. A girl can dream.

[madisfilmblog]

28 Days Later (2002) dir. Danny Boyle

I saw the trailer for 28 Years Later near the end of last year and was scared shitless by what I saw. I definitely can be somewhat of a baby, but in the last few years have ventured out to try to watch things that would normally frighten me. Why hold myself back from something that I might actually enjoy?

Except this. The trailer made me think, "I will not see that." Then I realized that this was the third movie. I decided to not watch any of them. I couldn't do it. And because of the media buzz the trailer was getting, my algorithm fed me a video of someone talking about the inaccessibility of 28 Days Later, as they only released it back to streaming and digital near the end of December. I watched as they explained the plot of 28 Days Later (I recognize this as a crime and I regret this but I didn't know what was coming my way).

Then second semester rolled around. Canvas pages were uploaded and I perused the syllabus for each of my classes. I perused the list of films for this class and stopped in shock. My eyes were not deceiving me. 28...Days...Later. But it didn't stop there. Group...four. Not only did I have to watch this film I had decided I would be too scared to watch, but I had to give my presentation on it. In a way, I was kind of excited, simply because what are the odds?

I loved it. Scared? Yes, at times. But I loved it. I already knew what happened, but it did not detract at all from the experience. I definitely got to engage more with the formal aspects of the film better because I did not have to invest so much into the horror of the story. The militia plot line is very distressing, especially as a woman, but I was sitting there enjoying the lighting in the manor, the odd nature of the shootout on the lawn, and the shakiness of the action in the climax.

With the scene in the tunnel, I was able to appreciate the ways they did not show the infected in that scene, the shadows on the wall and the rats as well because I already knew no one was going to be injured.

On a different note, I wanted to bring up this particular quote from the reading: "Since the audience knows that the zombies are usually not sentient and in most cases do not feel pain, it is free to enjoy the spectacle of wanton destruction of human bodies rather than human beings." So this is interesting in the case of 28 Days Later because the 'zombies' are not technically zombies. They are alive human beings who have been infected with a disease. Of course, they are violent and are a threat to health and safety, but they are not the textbook definition of zombies. This fact does not detract from the quote. The scene on the lawn outside the manor was not more horrifying knowing those people were not undead. It was almost goofy and fun to shoot them down. Pure entertainment.

There is one point in this film, however, that I think shows uninfected people as equal threats is the scene at the blockade where the group goes to find the soldiers. Frank is upset because there is no one there, and their dangerous trek to get there was seemingly for nothing. As he's wandering into the blockade to calm his nerves and think of what to do, the camera positions itself behind objects, inside cars, and away from Frank almost as if we are watching him without him knowing. When in the car, a quick flash crosses the frame, indicating to the audience that there might be an infected person there. Up to this point, the characters have not endured an opposing force that was not infected.

Frank becomes infected himself from the blood of a body dripping and falling into his eye. That shot of the blood... I love it. It is so interesting to give us a perspective of something that doesn't have eyes. We are no longer witnessing, we are complicit in a way.

What was lurking comes out now, and guns down Frank. It's foreshadowing, but what they have to be afraid of is not an infected, but rather the men of the militia. Their intentions are not...ethical. They even keep one of their friends who became infected with a chain around his neck outside. Again, he is alive, but infected.

I also want to mention that even though the film's quality is something that people laugh at online (I saw someone joke that they filmed this on a pink motorola razr and I love being old enough to understand a joke about a god damn flip phone) I think the film's quality adds to the tone. It is very gritty, almost grimy, and just dark. The lightest part of the entire film, both visually and emotionally, was shot on film and was much clearer and softer. At that point, the tone was more hopeful, clean, and fresh. I don't think the pixelated nature was intentional as technology degrades over time, and digital photography and videography is difficult to maintain, but I think it matches well!

And one last thing I want to say is that I was really pleasantly surprised by this film. Trainspotting is a film that I really love (I watched it after seeing Candy which is the more distressing heroin drama, so Trainspotting was a breath of fresh air that got the same message across) and I have a few other of Danny Boyle's films on my watchlist. Alex Garland, I give props to his writing abilities. I cannot get past the fact that Men belongs to his brain, but I can appreciate his work. I think it is so goofy that a good chunk of the work each of these men, and producer Andrew Macdonald have done has been done together. Just some best friends doing their thing together and it's very clear that the work they have done together has made an impact. So good for them!

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The Battle of Algiers (1967) dir. Gillo Pontecorvo

As someone who took French in high school and is currently taking French now and has also hated every single minute of every single class, I found it easy to be anti-French watching this film. Regardless of this film's ambiguity on whose side is the right side to be on! I will say, as much as I understand the lack of nuance in language learning classes, it is frustrating in some degree to sit there and learn about the colonization of African countries and various islands by the French through vocabulary centered around vacationing in these places and other such information. Yes, I can, as the French would say, planche à voile in French Polynesia and wow! People in Senegal speak French? Tell us why! I understand why we do not discuss these things, but the... childlike nature of the content and the way its taught feels awkward at times when discussing certain places. Especially during the chapter on politics and government... instead we were asked, "What do you think of terrorisme?"

(I feel like I am aligning myself too closely to that clip of Jaden Smith ((dear God)) on a podcast going, "Can we talk about the political and economic state of the world right now?")

On the topic of the Algerian War and this film, I did find it to be very interesting and very provoking. I understand why it was received in such a controversial and divisive manner. Not only was the time the film release situated at a sort of transitionary state for European countries as they were "steadily shedding their colonies,", but also this film's approach to sharing these perspectives was integral to its reception as a classic.

For one, I found the black and white very intriguing. I feel like the scenes with explosions become less about the spectacle of the explosion itself (because humans are not only horrified by explosions but entertained. We knew people were dying, but I am sure someone out there thought, "cool explosion!" and they're a little weird for that) and more about the bleakness of it.

The bombing scenes with the women is especially impactful. It is a truly horrible thing these women are doing, but again, it makes sense as to why they did it. Uprising and war is never not going to see the death of innocent people. But I think there is a very clear duality in this sequence that says, "Do you understand these women and how they're feeling? Do you empathize with these people, too?"

Once the first woman is handed her bag, a quick and drum-heavy song begins to play. It stops when she finds herself outside of the cafe, and begins again once she enters it. It stops again once she speaks to someone and a man offers her his seat, then resumes as she scans around, stops as she takes a drink and sets the bag down. As far as music goes, the off and on nature of this music is a way of pulling us back and forth between each perspective in the scene. The music belongs to her, and I believe the choice of drums mimics the low and method beat of the heart, but quickened to make us wonder how nervous or full of adrenaline she might be. When the music is off and the sounds of daily life shine through, it shows us that the people around are oblivious, enjoying their drinks, their ice cream, their conversations, and the company of others.

The scene cuts to a close shot of the second woman in the little dance club, the location of the next bomb...before the first one even goes off. Funky dance music plays, people are up and moving, and there is no methodical music to let us into what this second woman may be feeling. We do not know if her heart is beating out of her chest, if her palms might be sweating, or what. The sounds of every day life, and the multiple close shots of random people's faces give more of an appeal towards them.

The scene progresses, and once the first bomb begins its countdown, a higher pitched drum begins to tap, almost sounding like the type of drums that belong in war. My favorite part of this scene is when the camera very very quickly zooms in on the clock before showing the bomb blow up from the outside of the cafe. This shot is so quick. Before the blast, it's saying, "NOW!" and that indication before the actual blast is very interesting to me. The fact that the music alludes to a countdown at all, I think, places the viewer into an inactive participation.

One last thing that I would like to mention is the scenes of torture. It is not an unknown fact that governments use torture tactics all the time. The United States has allowed some horrible things to happen, I mean... look at Guantanamo Bay... but also, governments have limits to how far they can go and are also secretive about what they actually do.

That is why the reading mentioning that the real man behind the character of Col. Mathieu defended his torturous actions after sharing his experiences of a "largely secret history". To me, that is insane. For Pontecorvo to not only include the torture in the film but to film reenactments of it is extremely moving and deeply uncomfortable and a sad reminder that these things are a part of our human history and have been for thousands of years. They will continue to be. For Aussaresses to boast his horrible crimes against other human beings is nasty. For the reading to call him the, "degree zero of colonial oppression," is well put.

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Simba (1955) dir. Brian Desmond Hurst

I think this film and subsequent class presentation and discussion overwhelmed me with information.

To begin, the film sets up the violence almost immediately. In the opening scene, a precedent is set. A wide shot shows and follows a black man on a bicycle riding along. The sounds of nature chirp around him as he rides to a stop. As he steps off, the camera pans his movements as he gets closer, stops and looks down, then up and around. He sees something we don't and wants to make sure no one around him sees either. Immediately, the audience is under the impression of suspicion. Should we trust him?

As he kneels and the camera pans down to show a bloodied, tattered, and near dead white man, the music begins to flood the sounds of nature that were once there. Fast-paced drums tell us to feel anxious. We do not trust this man. In the top right corner of the frame, his right hand reaches behind himself out of frame. Despite not seeing what he has grabbed, we know to continue feeling anxious. The downward angle on the beaten man in conjunction with his frightened, noiseless pleas let us know he is facing a weapon before the camera pans up to the right to reveal the very weapon that will be swung down on him to end his life.

Ruthless violence without context is what opens this film. It places the audience in a position to immediately take a side.

Now I want to go off to something else really quick and talk about the odd triangle between Mary Crawford, Alan Howard, and Dr. Karanja. I recall of one of my classmates mentioning that even though Mary and Karanja were less than the white men in the film, Mary still had privilege above Karanja. Maybe in some regards when it comes to race, but Mary is a woman. A woman who has spent a majority of her life living in Kenya, and is the sole reason for Alan's staying there this time around.

The Google overview for the film says, "Stricken with grief and filled with hatred for the natives, Howard's instinct is to return home to England. But when he develops a romantic interest in his neighbor, Mary Crawford, he decides to stay..." Alan decides to stay so he can conquer Mary's status as an unmarried woman. And because she is kind to Karanja and treats him like they are equals, Alan sees him as a threat. The underlying prejudice was already there, but Karanja's civil friendship with Mary is one of the catalysts.

Going back to my first point, this film, told from the point of view of a white person, forces the audience to make a decision and pick a side at the get-go. The reading for this film talks about this too and how this position follows through the decisions of the native Kenyans throughout the film. "...there remains a distinction between loyal and disloyal servants." This sort of paranoia bleeds into the story. Alan accuses Karanja of being the leader of the Mau Mau, and the reason for the murder of his brother. It is interesting that the educated black man is the one accused of violent leadership. The reading also mentions Jomo Kenyatta who was a "Western-educated African like Karanja," who was detained on suspicion for Mau Mau leadership for roughly eight years. Karanja, in a dramatic way, shows Alan his unmarked body as a way to prove his innocence.

The final sequence places Alan, Karanja, and Mary together. I think this particular moment is important to mention, as there are multiple instances in this film that showcases the native Kenyans speaking to each other in their native tongue, but not once has something been translated to the English speaking audience. No subtitles and no characters explaining what they have said. Again, we are meant to feel on the outside and feel suspicious. It is difficult to trust the motives of a group of people when you do not understand what they are saying.

When Karanja walks out to speak to the people and his father, the actual leader of the Mau Mau, he speaks in this language again. A wide shot shows a group of people standing below the flames they've created, weapons at the ready, facing us. Karanja's back faces the camera and his hands are raised, touching the fire it seems. Calming the crowd and attempting to calm the entire chaos. He speaks.

Alan asks, "what's he saying?" to which Mary responds and translates. This solidifies Mary as this bridge between the two and also allows the audience a moment to sit with the distrust the film has cultivated and rethink. Maybe there is a chance, maybe the message is good and clear. As Karanja's father arrives, Mary continues her translations. The opinions and perspectives of the opposite side are finally heard through the perspective of a white person.

Ultimately, Karanja is slashed to death by his own community and he dies in this limbo state. Denounced as a white man by his father, yet there was never going to be a full acceptance as a white man by the white people. He lies between forever.

Our final shot is one of the little boy. After watching The Battle of the Algiers and witnessing the roles those children played in rebellion and violence, looking back to this child makes me really see him as an object to this film.

A wide shot of the doorway the child stands in shows multiple bodies and weapons strewn across the ground. The camera holds still as the light from the fires flicker on the walls. The child steps down the stairs and looks on as Karanja dies in Mary and Alan's arms. At that point, Mary looks to the child, who walks up to them. He is unfazed by the violent aftermath and looks down at Karanja in a close up shot. The boy is a clean slate, surrounded but not molded by violence. The new generation will be better.

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Logan's Run (1976) dir. Michael Anderson

What a... good time! I will never watch this again. Well, who's to say?

It is an interesting premise, especially relevant now. Aging is a societal curse, especially amongst young women, and whatever we can do to elongate the illusion of our time here, the better. California recently proposed a law that would bar children under a certain age from purchasing anti-aging products. While I see the concern and appeal... California, honey, you've got bigger fish to fry that twelve year olds in Sephora purchasing skincare.

I find it interesting though because even though it's methods of communicating this fear of aging are goofy to a modern audience like myself, the message still resonates in some way. My grandmother, who is dead and was a (sorry grandma) mean and tough woman, once said, "gettin' old is for the pits." And that opinion is ingrained in me in some way. Do I want to get older? Not necessarily. I can't envision it, but it will happen because that is an unavoidable part of the human experience. I will not lie and say dying at thirty does not sound massively appealing to me. It really, really does. No taxes, no worrying if I will be able to buy a home, no children... just release! Win-win!

Now, in the film no one seems to be experiencing the sort of fear of aging as the process has been essentially eradicated (because thirty year olds don't have wrinkles? Or back pain? Yeah, sure. I see your crow's feet, Jessica! There's nothing wrong with that!) so they can enjoy themselves. The structure of their...polycule...allows for absolute bliss all the time. The film does not showcase a lot of the labor that would be necessary to upkeep a society like theirs, because frankly, it isn't the point. In my opinion, with the film's more overt traditional ideals, it makes sense that all they want to show of the society is the delights they indulge in rather than them taking care of each other. Who takes care of the babies? We will never know!

But what I find interesting about that is this particular quote from the reading: "It is clear that the authors saw youth as a force for historical change." It then goes on to talk about the Vietnam War student-led protests and how integral young people were in change. The idea of this being what the screenplay writers were thinking about as they were writing is interesting. A lot of the values that lie within the moral message in Logan's Run I think counter a lot of what was going on around them, especially ideas regarding sexual freedom and the concept of family. Making an anti-hedonism film is not a bad choice, but an interesting one at a time where women are gaining financial freedom and are able to function better in society without a male family member or husband. The sexual revolution with the accessibility to birth control and access to abortion was allowing for people to control their ability to start a family and just enjoy sexual experiences for pleasure rather than just reproduction. Partying, drugs (though the war on drugs is just around the corner), and divorce becoming more common are all examples too.

What Logan's Run is saying to a 1976 audience is: reject modernity, embrace TRADITION!

There are three scenes that illustrate this point, and most of it has to do with sexual freedom and the structure of family. Logan's Run is pretty obvious with what it wants to tackle.

The love shop scene is a dreamy nightmare for our main character. Logan and Jessica enter, and both of them are immediately met with a dark ambient space. Despite being a space fully designed for pleasure, each one of them is met by naked members of the opposite sex. Apparently Logan's Run runs on pleasure but ONLY if it is heterosexual...

I want to mention that the lighting in this room, while minimal, is mainly red, then flashes white, and has tinges of blue in certain areas as if to say this is America! Despite everyone except for Logan and Jessica being unclothed, the nudity is not graphic, instead more implied in a way. The slowness of these people, the dissonant music playing over, and the real gritty darkness to it makes it feel extremely taboo and out of place. Almost, dare I say it, wrong.

Next, the scene in which Logan, Jessica, and the old man sit around the fire supplies us with a very obvious opinion on family through the dialogue.

Logan asks the old man about the "beloved husband, beloved wife" headstone markers he say earlier. To which, the old man responds to say they used those words to "stay together".

Now this sentence coming from Jessica is...fun. She says, "So, people stayed together for this feeling of love? They would live and raise children...and be remembered?" Logan could not have had this line. He, as a man, would not be responsible for the bulk of raising children. It would be Jessica's job. The dialogue works in a way to reinforce not only the structure of family to the audience, but the roles each of them would play within it, as Jessica says after, "I think I'd like that, Logan. Don't you?"

Lastly, the final scene in which the city crumbles and everyone, minus the babies, swarm outside to discover the old man standing is a full rejection of the hedonistic lifestyle they all were a part of and a move closer to a future where relationships, aging, and family should continue. The firework explosions, shaking of the camera, and crumbling of their world indicates this sudden change. When they find the old man, the camera is still. Young people begin to trickle down the frame towards the old man. The more traditional string music tells us that we are away from fabricated techno music, and the fabricated life of the city. The old man is here to bring us back to the old ways that worked.

All of this makes me tired and want to subscribe to the thirty year old thing.

[madisfilmblog]

Gunga Din (1939) dir. George Stevens

What a pleasant and fun film to watch at work!

I feel like there is a lot to say about this film, but I really just... feel at a loss for words. All I can think about is how greedy Cary Grant's character, Cutter, was and how Sam Jaffe played the character of Gunga Din.

I first want to mention that the beginning of this film says, "the portions of this picture dealing with the worship of the goddess Kali are based on historic fact,". Now, whenever I see something like this, I automatically assume that nothing about it is going to be based on historical fact. Clearly, in this film, I was right. I have learned a lot from Ibarra on the struggle historians have with accuracy on screen. I understand the struggle, and sometimes...what's wrong with a little embellishment? In cases like this film, it is embellishing at the expense of a minority group within the film and real life and that is morally an interesting dilemma.

Even though Gunga Din is the titular character, this movie is not centered around him as one might assume. He is important enough to be played by a white actor in brown face, but not important enough to be included into the brotherhood of Cutter, MacChensey, and Ballantine. If Gunga Din has anything remotely resembling a friendship to him, it is with Cutter.

In the scene where they stumble upon the golden temple, the mountains on both sides of the frame place them close together and cast a dark shadow over everything around them except the temple that sits above their heads in perfect light. Cutter turns to Gunga Din and says, "that is yours and mine!". I found it interesting that Cutter would refer to Gunga Din first when it came to ownership of their findings (although every further moment that Cutters exhibits greed, it does not include anyone but himself, truly). What I think instantly debunks these words from him is the light hitting Cutter so we can see his face and his body and the light only hitting Gunga Din's headpiece. His face is in full shadow, even when he is speaking. He is not included, but he is there.

I want to sidetrack really quickly to talk about Anna Mae the elephant. I see animals, especially larger animals like Anna Mae, and I think of the history of animals in the film industry. Thomas Edison's 1903 short Electrocuting an Elephant is an example of cruelty on screen (even though Topsy killed someone after a trainer attempted to feed her a cigarette. Which in turn...release her. She did nothing wrong!) Edison's production company profited off of this and took advantage, in a way, of the industry's self-regulation ideology.

Just knowing that Anna Mae was a working elephant both before and after regulation that protected her as a "sentient beast" was introduced makes me wonder what she might have endured and is a really interesting facet of film history that I wonder if my classmates thought of too. I'm sure, but I am also sure they saw her and thought she was just an interesting addition to the story. Of course, her entire purpose there was to show exoticism and add a big of fun to adventure film.

Now, the main theme that this film shoves down your throat is the importance of male friendship. Between Cutter, Ballantine, and MacChesney's friendship, Ballantine is the "weakest link". Despite Joan Fontaine's name being fairly big on the poster, her role in this film is rather minimal and negative. Fontaine's character, Emmy, is Ballantine's fiancé and the one who supports him the most when it comes to leaving the army. The distaste Cutter and MacChensey have for Emmy is palpable.

In the reading, it says, "Close-ups dominated by teeth establish their relationship as rather grotesque, animalistic and oddly unnatural." This is interesting and something I did not notice, as she is rarely there. But upon rewatching the scene with the drapes, Emmy says, "These curtains are for your den, you know," as the camera sits a medium distance away. It switches to a close shot of Ballantine, smiling as he sits with the idea of having his own "den".

Later, when MacChensey rallies Ballantine to go save Cutter, Emmy is not happy. Despite not being a close up shot, Ballantine holds her shoulders as she bares her teeth at him. She's upset, yet smiling. Of course, this is the last time she is seen in the film, as the trio has been reunited via a signature and life-saving mission ahead. The threat is neutralized and she is gone.

Cutter's greed was an integral part of the securing of Ballantine in their trio again. Cutter, at this point has become imprisoned in the golden temple after entering with Gunga Din with the intention of taking it for his own. By the time MacChesney and Ballantine arrive, it is clear to see that Cutter has been tortured to some degree. As the shootout on the roof is ongoing, Cutter knows the danger. He sits and the camera shows his surprise looking in front of him with a slight downward angle. He looks up, seeing something intensely mesmerizing: the gold. Immediately following this shot, is a close up of the gold, its etched figures dancing and looking down upon them. The upward angle in which this shot is placed really emphasizes the value of the material in Cutter's eyes and the power it has over him, but also the importance of the material for the culture and religion of these people.

The fact that he cannot take advantage and steal what is in front of him because the people who own it are shooting at him troubles him so much that he says, "Is there no limit to the torture that the oriental mind can devise?"

In response, I have to say... you're a soldier, Cutter! Is there no limit to the torture that the male soldier mind can devise? NO!

[madisfilmblog]

Contagion (2011) dir. Steven Soderbergh

After I watched this, I had an eerie feeling that I had seen it before. No, not in the way that I "experienced" covid, but that I had actually seen it, forgotten it somehow but the feeling lingered. Enhanced the experience.

While I do see the similarities between this film and the global response to the Covid pandemic, I personally cannot attach myself to it in that way. Cache Valley and Preston, Idaho were not places that locked down. I think only once was my grocery store in shambles (and not even comparable to the extreme gray-toned looted grocery store scene), and not many people that I was surrounded by were entirely concerned about catching it, let alone dying.

Clearly, MEV-1 is a much more deadly virus than Covid. People are clearly dropping dead. The scene where Alan Krumwiede is walking around in his suit, and the streets are littered with stuff and people's bodies is a testament to the severity of the disease.

I don't care much for the Covid comparisons. But, yes, a lot of our reactions were similar. It isn't entirely difficult to predict how humans react in certain situations, especially in areas of disease.

While this film is about how people react in the face of a global pandemic, I would also say this film highlights the importance of physical human connection. There are a lot of people in this film and every single one of them is connected in some way. Almost as if to remind us of the six degrees of separation. Many of the main characters in this film are connected through each other. Mitch Emhoff has met Erin Mears, who worked for Ellis Cheever, who speaks frequently with Haggerty. Not to mention the other people they meet and speak to every day. Branches off a tree, reminding us just how many people we see and how many people we could infect if we were infected.

In Dr. Suhail Abdul Rub. P.'s article, he says, "...the centre for Disease Control and Prevention recommends social distancing by forcibly isolating the healthy to limit the spread of the disease, which stands in stark opposition to contemporary demands for social networking."

When presented with a highly contagious and deadly disease, people tend to become paranoid and distrustful of each other, but of course, the only way to find a cure, every doctor and official had to work together in fairly close quarters. Mitch could not be away from his daughter, nor her from her boyfriend much to Mitch's hesitance.

The importance of human connection is a big deal. We are social creatures, we need each other. I think of the scene in the hospital right after Dr. Hextall injects herself with the vaccine and then promptly visits her father. As opposed to a majority of scenes taking place in the United States sporting a colorless gray-scale, this scene has a warm yellow light. In the case of this film, I see the warm light mostly seen in Hong Kong) as a hotspot for disease to flourish. In this case, with the context of Dr. Hextall having the vaccine, as viewers, the risk of her getting infected is tame now. She is unafraid when she removes her mask and her gloves. She removes the barriers of disconnect and in a shot that places us above and over her shoulder, we see her father place his hand on her face, and her kiss his forehead. This type of exchange between a sick and not sick person at this point in the film (three quarters of the way through) is really out there, but clearly important.

I want to briefly mention the prom scene, but only to mention the camera. After Mitch is set up for his daughter to have prom in their living room with her newly vaccinated boyfriend (finally they can be together), he finds the camera. The shot in which he finds it is far from him, with the bed and two pillows taking up the entire bottom of the frame.

Of course it is the same camera his wife Beth took to Hong Kong. The camera sits behind his shoulder, facing down and close in on the screen. He flips through the images, and the last image he sees before it switches to his daughter seeing their decorated house is a photo of Beth shaking hands with a cook. Again, a long shot shows him crouched in the closet, head in hands and crying. The bed, perhaps even the side she slept on, in frame below him. With how little space he takes up in frame, it is easy to assume the emotional isolation he feels, and also perhaps how isolating his immunity has felt. Imagine being completely immune to an insane disease... you are apart of what's going on physically because of what is happening around you (example of the lockdown, looting, lack of food), but you aren't apart of the fear and hysteria except in the case of others around you. It is an interesting detachment.

Regardless, this is the beginning of the final sequence. The last minute of the film is marked by the melodic guitar of U2 blending into the rhythmic beating of the score as we witness in a blue darkness, the camera pan up from construction equipment to a group of bats silhouetted against the sky as they fly away from the tree they were knocked out of. A fade transition places us in front of a bundle of bananas where the bats land and eat. As the bat flies away, the camera pans right, lands on it hanging from the ceiling, then pans down as it drops something down to the pigs below. Another fade transition starts the following of the pigs as they become slaughtered, cooked, and eaten. We watch the cook get approached and the camera pans down to him wiping his hands on his dirty apron before going out to take a picture with...Beth. The photo Mitch was looking at was none other than the beginning.

Is it human connection that sparked this downfall? Frankly, it is the cook's fault for not washing his hands.

[madisfilmblog]

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) dir. Don Siegel

This is a film that I think finds itself relevant still today, in a different way. I'll get to this in a second. People we know and love replaced by cold, unfeeling... copies of themselves. No love, no compassion, no happiness, no nothing.

In the 1950s, the United States was on the mend from World War II. In the wake of the new threat of nuclear war, we were becoming a capitalist powerhouse. Everything began to boom, well, except the bombs. Babies, cars, more babies, grocery stores, everything. Community was prospering, yet the horrors persisted. Those who believed in opposing economic systems were alienated and villainized. Communists were invisible threats, lurking there in plain sight and that made people uncomfortable.

Nowadays, communists, while still disliked, are less taboo. Witch-hunting them ceased, while the internet still allows for some sort of new-age witch hunts to persist but for pretty much everyone. I would argue that todays "body snatchers" are ones who adopt an extremist right-wing ideology. While today is wildly different than the world of the 1950s (less children are being born, grocery stores are lame and too expensive, late stage capitalism feels like it is in full swing (why do we need luxury clothing brands imitating poverty?)), many people are struggling with their loved ones and members of their communities voting against their rights, exhibiting blatant bigoted behavior, and more.

These people, unlike the body snatchers, are not hiding in plain sight, however I would argue they adopt the unfeelingness of them.

Stuart Samuels says in his article, "The motto of the pods was 'no more love, no more beauty, no more pain.' Emotionless, impersonal. regimented, they became technological monsters. But they were not the irrational creatures of blood lust and power--they were just nonhuman."(212) While the right-wingers can be considered irrational creatures, I'd say it is a relevant connection anyhow.

On a different but slightly similar note, leaving the right-wingers behind, this film is about a doctor who becomes increasingly aware that everyone in his cheery, small-ish Californian town is being replaced by alien versions of themselves via gigantic pods. These pods are probably one of my favorite parts of this film as the actors carry them with ease and they--because they grow human-sized copies--are huge. It's very easy to see the craftsmanship that went into building these pods and how light the materials would have been based on how many pods there are. The scene where Dr. Bennell looks over the hill after hearing the dreamy music outside the cave, where the people are moving the pods from the ground and the greenhouse into the truck. They toss them in with no issue. I wonder why they did not pretend for them to be heavy, as if the 'body-snatcher' is not a tangible entity within the pod waiting to complete the snatching.

In addition to that prop design, in the scene where Jack is in the greenhouse after finding the pods carrying a garden rake through as a weapon, the set-up of each frame in that sequence is fairly extravagant. Mannequins entangled in plants and covered in so many bubbles make it seem like they really are body doubles. What makes this scene compelling is the camera being tilted slightly to the right upon Jack realizing what they are. The camera pans down, follows his weapon and his legs creeping through, passing each double, stopping at each one. In conjunction with the heavily stringed music, it makes for an unsettling moment.

When Dr. Bennell creeps in there wielding the same weapon, the camera looks up at him with no tilt this time and it stays facing upwards as he approaches the body double of Becky. Instead of being frightened by this discovery as Jack may have been, he is agonizing over the thought of stabbing Becky's double in particular. The cuts between her upside down face and Bennell's contorting expression indicate his power over this creature yet his feelings--the very feelings eradicated by the body snatchers--prevent him from destroying this one.

Yet, even though there is a slight tilt of the camera as he walks over to himself (there is some fear looking at his own face and contemplating his own loss of life) he has little issue stabbing himself! Relatable. For reporting employee reasons, that is a joke.

Towards the end of the film, as Bennell re-enters the cave to collect Becky, he trips and they both fall to the ground in a muddy puddle near the mouth of the cave (he drops her right onto her arm and it looked very painful). A long shot shows their chests faced together, bodies entangled, then the camera moves closer. They take up nearly most of the frame at this point. The camera tracks the movements of Bennell as he props himself up over Becky and thinks: this is a good time to kiss.

But no! Her heart's not in it!

A close up POV shot of her face shows her eyes slowly inch open, and her facial expression indicates to Bennell (and us) that she has been snatched. Eyeline matching here is important because this is followed by a close up of Bennell, shocked. As he backs away, the following shot of Becky mirrors that movement and zooms out away from her face.

Bennell is the "final girl" at this moment in time. At least in the context of him yelling, "There is no human being left in Santa Mira!" on the highway.

The final scene in the doctors office left me as a viewer paranoid that those people, too, were doubles. At this point, Bennell has descended into madness. It is not until the seed pod truck crashed that they believe him.

I am going to end this with an observation on his hair. At this point, he has an idea of a 5 o'clock shadow. I don't care about that being used to make him look disheveled. The more he descends into his madness, the more his hair hangs down over his forehead. After they believe him, his hair is pushed back more in the way it way before. Not quite neat, but more orderly. He isn't crazy! But seriously, he looks better with his hair down over his forehead.

[madisfilmblog]

Chinatown (1974) dir. Roman Polanski

You know, for every awful thing Roman Polanski has done, at least he did this movie right.

Watching Chinatown was like digging a hole you never get out of. At one moment, we're investigating infidelity, then corruption, then murder.

At the beginning of the film when Jake Gittes is speaking with the fake Mrs. Mulwray, he says to her, "go home and forget everything," Of course, he'd end up swallowing his words later.

One thing I particularly enjoyed was the unconventional approach to the detective film. The reading, Steve Neale's analysis, sums up the parameters of the genre better than I could: a heroic, masculine, and independent detective solves a crime and catches a criminal, while also romantically resisting or investigating the loyalties of a female character.

What makes Chinatown different is it's subverting of this regular approach. While yes, Gittes is masculine and independent, his "heroic" nature does not end up taking down a criminal, but instead hurting innocent people. While yes, he resists a female love interest, she is not malicious in any way that isn't for the protection of her daughter and the truth behind that relationship and her attraction to Gittes is not a façade. And most importantly, the crime cannot be brought to justice.

This story is complex, so complex that at times it feels hopeless that anything will come to fruition while watching. Mr. Mulwray is murdered, Gittes gets his nose sliced open, all the instances with the water and the land, and even the reveal of Katherine's identity and the ties to Noah Cross all make this film feel like there is no winning in sight. Of course, it wouldn't make much sense if there was a win at all (although, Gittes did technically do what he was hired by Cross to do... so did he get his $10,000? That's a lot of money but nowhere near the $30 million he's about to accrue. And for the 1930s...sheesh.)

As far as themes and motifs go, Polanski takes it very literal. The main theme of this film surrounds water. Water is everywhere in this film and each little part of it hard to miss. From the mention of Seabiscuit in the newspaper during the public meeting, to the water drenched photos Gittes partner shows him, water is literally everywhere. Seeing as one of the main drivers for the corruption in this film is the exploitation of water for profit in the notoriously water-reliant Los Angeles, it makes sense that it all circles back to it.

I mean, the wealth Cross has accrued from that business is one of the main reasons he is not met with justice. As Evelyn tells Gittes in her last moments, he owns the police. And again, $30 million in the 1930s is not a small amount of money, it is an insane and unethical amount of wealth. Cross has the ability to anything with this, and he does.

As a detective film, the theme of sight and knowledge are also big one. There are multiple little moments in this film that have to do with the eye and seeing things.

My personal favorite has to do with the side-storyline of Katherine. As Gittes follows Mr. Mulwray to try to figure out the identity of this "girlfriend" of his (interesting foreshadow to the incestuous relationship). We see Gittes settling up on a bell tower with a camera when the camera slowly moves to a birds-eye view over his shoulder, looking down and what he photographs. Suddenly, the shot changes to an up-close view of the camera. A reflection of the two dance in the lens. While it wasn't necessary to include this shot as we already knew what Gittes was taking a picture of, this is...so satisfying to me. The lens is a means of sight, a means of gathering information, just as much as the naked eye. Of course, the image reflected in the lens opens the next scene on the newspaper Gittes holds as he gets his beard shaved in the barber shop.

Even later, when Gittes follows Evelyn and witnesses her interacting with Katherine, as he crouches by the window into the bedroom, the camera once again pans over his shoulder and into the room, showing us exactly what he is seeing from his point of view. Gittes involves himself into Katherine's storyline too deeply in the wrong way, which ultimately harms the futures of both Evelyn and Katherine.

The scene in which Evelyn confesses her relation to Katherine is distressing to watch. Gittes brings the glasses he found in Mulwray's to confront Evelyn, and he approaches it in an extremely over-zealous way. Because he believes Evelyn is holding Katherine hostage, he's set in his way. Evelyn, despite being evasive in this scene does not lie.

As soon as Gittes slaps Evelyn the first time, the camera places them both in frame. It tracks Evelyn as he throws her down. The next shot is of Evelyns tear-stained face as she confesses her incestuous and consensual involvement with her father when she was a teenager. Her looking up towards Gittes in her frame as he looks down at her in his is indicative of the corner he has backed her into and how small he has made her feel. Up until this point, Evelyn has been very reactive to any mention of her father or of the "girlfriend".

To bring back the "go home and forget everything," phrase from the beginning, having the film end in Chinatown is a full-circle moment for Gittes. When asked about his old work in Chinatown, he responds that he did, "as little as possible,". In this film, 'Chinatown' is about intervening, and the dangers of that. As the film ends with Evelyn's death, Gittes is faced with the harsh reality of his involvement.

He mutters to himself, "as little as possible," as his partner says to him, "forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown."

[madisfilmblog]

American Graffiti (1973) dir. George Lucas

To be honest, after the last week and especially last 12 hours, nostalgia kind of feels like the best emotion to feel right now.

And to be honest, nostalgia is such a selfish emotion. Life has to go on. If I sat here and wished for the greatness of 2013 back and actually miraculously got my way, I’d be forced to relive whatever horrendous times that followed. I’d force everyone else to relive them too.

But its cathartic to yearn for the past. The urge to regain ignorance, security, youth, etc. pull us back to the past.

American Graffiti wants to tap into that, to tap into the selfishness of that emotion throughout the entire film and then snap you out of it at the end. Set in 1962, some major historical events were ongoing and major ones hadn’t happened yet. JFK is new in office but has not yet been assassinated, the civil rights movement is in full-swing not yet seeing congressional results and not yet dealing with the assassinations of Malcom X and Martin Luther King Jr., the assassination of Robert Kennedy hasn’t happened, Stonewall hasn’t happened, nor had American troops been sent to Vietnam, as the communist group in South Vietnam had only formed a year prior.

The civil rights movement is the only one on this list explicitly mentioned, apart from the Vietnam War, in casual conversation in this film. While driving around in John’s car, Carol says to him, “I just love this Wolfman…my mom won’t let [listen] me at home. Because he’s a negro.” The first time I watched this, I missed it. The second time, it caught me off guard. Focusing so heavily on nostalgia, especially juxtaposed with a character like John whose entire premise is nostalgia, briefly calling to something so tumultuous and moving in American history is so…smart to me. This is like a snap-out-of-it moment. At one point, you’re watching and feeling the vibes, enjoying the tunes and the cars and the flashiness of the youth culture of the early 60s, and then you’re reminded of racism, and then promptly thrown right back into it.

Another thing about this that I noticed is this moment happens at the literal halfway point of the film. 56 minutes in, 56 minutes left. As you’re watching, you really are thrown into it and settled into it by now and suddenly get the reminder halfway through that nostalgia is selfish. You want 1962 back? Well… Black people didn’t have rights and were experiencing unprecedented levels of violence and discrimination. Anyway, we’re driving around! Don’t you miss 1962?

Whiplash.

To jump to the end, this happens again with the end card. Again, I found this jarring. Not as jarring as the middle part because here, we don’t continue.

While walking around the junkyard, John talks about car crashes, the first being a drunk driver. It is revealed to us that he is hit and killed by a drunk driver only two years later. Terry is revealed to become MIA in Vietnam only three years later. Steve and Curt are revealed to have normal jobs, however Curt is now in Canada which alludes to him evading the draft.

This acts similarly to the nod to the civil rights movement and as a reminder that we have to face our future instead of live in the past. Life goes on for everyone. Seriously, you want 1962 back? Sure, it was great. But remember what followed? Life can’t always be that glamorous vision of the past, and it’s clear through Carol’s words that we need to remember that our nostalgic visions are clouded and inaccurate.

The way I can best relate this is to seeing images of me as a teenager, wishing I could look like “her” despite fully being an adult and having a healthy adult body. I have to remind myself that the nostalgia I feel regarding the reality of the past is lying to me. I know I was miserable as a teenager, wishing I had things child-me had. I know wishing for things like that would be unhealthy for me now, and entirely unrealistic. Nostalgia was and is not the answer to my own self-love. Yet it soothes.

Nostalgia is not the answer. It is the bandaid. In this film, Lucas begins to peel it off halfway and it hurts. He rips it off completely at the end and leaves us to process it.

To bring Wolfman Jack back up again, near the end of the film, Curt visits him. Wolfman Jack is a pillar of youth culture in this film through the music he plays on his radio station. Curt visits him in hopes he’ll broadcast a message to the mysterious blonde he’d been chasing all night and upon meeting him, he seems disillusioned. James Berardoni, mentions the lighting in this particular scene attributes to that factor by saying, “The lighting of the shot is very bright, almost harsh—Lucas certainly did not use that element of mise-en-scène to suggest a dreamlike encounter…,” which really puts it perfectly. The lighting here is harsh in comparison to the darkness of the rest of the film and after spending nearly an hour and forty minutes listening to his station, we, as well as Curt, are shown that this is really just a radio station. There’s nothing special about it, nothing grand or mysterious. It is no Wizard of Oz moment before the curtain is pulled back. There is nothing glorious or disappointing to be revealed; he is just a DJ, sitting in his booth eating popsicles because the icebox is broken. No hiding, no glamour, just a man.

Bernardoni is right in saying this lighting doesn’t suggest a dreamlike encounter, even though Curt doesn’t linger too long on this revelation of Wolfman Jack’s identity, making it seem like he doesn’t really care or mind all that much. After all, he’s is only there for a favor, one that continues to allow him to avoid the fact that he “may be leaving tomorrow,” and that ‘tomorrow’ has already arrived. However, Wolfman Jack is the only adult in this film that is taken even remotely serious, so he understands Curt’s dilemma and gives him very brief advice.

“There’s a great big beautiful world out there,” and “I’m not a young man anymore,” stand out to me as phrases that apply to Curt’s future.

Curt does end up leaving for school, is the only one of the group to leave Modesto (apart from Terry, though it is likely that Terry’s deployment to Vietnam might not have been of his own volition), moves to Canada, and becomes a writer.

Lucas choosing to end the film with Curt’s plot line is important. The night will come and go. Time will pass and life must go on. If you spend so much time avoiding the future, you’ll never move forward. Nostalgia is not the answer, but the bandaid. Halfway through this film, Lucas begins to peel it, reminding us that reality hurts. He lets us throw ourselves back in it, enjoying the nostalgia a bit more before fully pulling the bandaid off, leaving us to process it all through a pragmatic lens.

[madisfilmblog]

Harold and Maude (1971) dir. Hal Ashby

I must confess that I went into this with a personal disdain against age-gap relationships that clouded my expectations. I have witnessed the power-imbalance that can go hand in hand with age-gap relationships firsthand and how that can seriously alter the quality of someone's life and interpersonal relationships. I pressed play feeling nervous that what I was about to watch would, to put it bluntly, set me off.

Harold and Maude... flipped that feeling of unease on its head. I have to admit my defeat and say that I found this film to be very endearing and not what I was expecting at all. There is no power-imbalance between Harold and Maude. Their differences in life experience and maturity levels is never a concern or obstacle in their relationship. In fact, much of what they lack in themselves is found in the other.

Before I discuss their relationship and how the movie showcases their journey together, I want to briefly discuss the topic of marriage.

At one point in the film, Harold decides Maude is who he wants to marry. He was always going to choose her; the girls Harold's mother had arranged for him to meet were never going to make it past the first meeting.

Harold meets with three key authoritarian figures in his life to talk about his wish to marry Maude, and each one makes sure to tell him why their age-gap is wrong. Harold's uncle, a general, tells him its socially abnormal. His psychiatrist tells him its mentally abnormal. His priest tells him its sexually abnormal. Every male figure in Harold's life wants him away from something they consider to be taboo in accordance to marriage.

At and around the time of this film's release, life surrounding marriage in the United States was experiencing a new period. We can thank the women's suffrage movement for its indirect effect on future marriage laws, as women gaining the right to vote re-conceptualized their place in society and within their civil unions. A marriage now consisted of two citizens rather than a man and his wife.

It wasn't until 1967 that interracial marriage was legalized nationwide due to the Supreme Court ruling Loving v. Virginia. The first same-sex marriage in the United States occurred in 1971. Relationships were becoming more private, as the introduction of birth control allowed for a lot more freedom and choice in the sex lives of many couples.

What Harold and Maude directly challenge with their relationship is the idea of the nuclear family. An older woman with a young man don't fit the ideals of the socially normal and mutually fertile couple. It's understood that a 79 year old woman has gone through menopause and won't have children and the way the priest talks about her body with fervent disgust as the camera slowly zooms in reminds us how engrained some of these authoritarian figures are in the more intimate parts of people's lives.

What is overlooked in the eyes of these three figures is the love that Harold and Maude share for each other. Like I mentioned above, what one lacks, the other has. Maude lives on the edge. There are many shots in which she drives (terribly, I might add) away in a car that doesn't belong to her. She has no concern for the law, just a concern for not living her life the way she wants to. Maude is obsessed with her ability to pave her own path and enjoy every waking moment.

Harold is the complete opposite. He struggles to connect emotionally to his mother, whom he performs elaborate suicide scenes for. He is obsessed with the idea of death, the escape of consciousness, and the dramatics of what comes after passing. There are many moments in which his face is so pale and grey, he looks as if he's already dead.

Maude pines for companionship. She chases after Harold. The first time they interact is in a church during a funeral. Wide shots show us how far removed they are from those who actually knew the deceased and also how empty the room is. We see Maude stand and move, but the funeral party does not care to notice. Not even when she attempts to get Harold's attention, nor when the camera shows her prancing across the aisle to offer him some licorice and chat. Harold, so preoccupied with the funeral, doesn't give her much attention until they follow the casket outside to the hearse.

Maude's persistence allows for their relationship to blossom. Her consistent life-oriented preaching allows for Harold to increase his willingness to enjoy his own life as well as the one he is creating with her.

Yet, there is one very short shot in this film that I would consider a turning point in their relationship and that is the slow zoom on Maude's arm as they sit and watch the sunset together. As Harold's eyes glance down, the camera shows us the concentration camp tattoo, uncovering the painful and atrocious events she lived through. This shot is never explicitly discussed, and easy to miss if not paying attention but it is very integral in understanding who Maude is and the amount of change Harold undergoes.

Harold, who spends his life attempting to face death, realizes that Maude doesn't just understand it... she knows it. She's seen it. Lived it. Couldn't escape it. However, her hardships have only made her stronger, happier, more courageous, and in control. I believe this is the point where he begins to truly adopt Maude's approach to life.

At this point in the film, Harold no longer wears the pale, death-ridden face he once wore. He's begun to embrace life and love. Despite this, Maude commits suicide on her 80th birthday. This is her controlling every aspect of her life, as she won't be stifled by anything around her. This is her deciding her fate, and makes much more sense with the short nod to her history.

For once, Harold actually stares death right in the face and is genuinely terrified. There is no laissez-faire attitude, instead we get a jarring scream to siren auditory match cut, thus beginning the final sequence of Maude's passing and Harold's acceptance to move forward.

This film really pushes the boundaries of a social moral code regarding love and relationships. The comedic, yet tender and philosophical approach to such a frowned-upon relationship allows for a more introspective look at what brings them together. Philip Drake mentions one of the trailers includes many scenes cut from the film. This same trailer announces: "Harold And Maude Say: Get Together Regardless of Your Age, Race, Creed, Color or National Origin" which, again, directly nods to the multiple changes in marriage laws at and around time of release as well as many other political ideologies and movements.

And sometimes, 'it's best not to be too moral; you cheat yourself out of too much life.'

[madisfilmblog]

The Last Picture Show (1971) dir. Peter Bogdanovich

Out of the many themes this film covers in its two-hour runtime, themes like loss, community, family and friendships, and youth, the one that I aim to discuss in this post is the theme of sex and sexuality. Specifically looking at the three main female characters: Jacy Farrow, Lois Farrow, and Ruth Popper. While the relationships men have with sex in this film are equally interesting to look at, the perspectives of these female characters is what is important to look at. Especially when understanding who they are and where they belong in this town and society and to each other (Jacy and Lois) and to everyone else.

Graham Fuller mentioned when stating that the novel was worth adapting into a screenplay that "…the sexual frankness…made it highly appealing property in 1970." Released just one year later in 1971, it feels imperative to mention that Title IX wasn't enacted into law until 1972. Nationwide abortion wasn't decriminalized until 1973 with Roe v. Wade. Birth control was fairly new, and the fight against sexual and domestic abuse was only starting to gain some real traction with the rise of the feminist movement. With this film being set in the 1950s, its commentary on sex and women rang true to many female viewers. It felt relatable even if the characters weren't acting "good" and/or "moral".

First up, Ruth. Ruth is the sad and dreary wife of the football coach. Her husband does not pay enough attention to her and she feels alone, both emotionally and physically. Once given the opportunity to fill that gap when Sonny finds himself driving her to her appointment and listening to her talk, she leans on him. One part that I particularly enjoyed about the way they showed this affair between them is flashing her left hand on his face when they kiss. The audience gets a clear view of her ring and is reminded of that lack of physicality and satisfaction in her marriage. Placing her on the right side of the frame allows for this tiny detail.

Due to Ruth's emotional nature, it is easy to deduce that her connection to sex and intimacy is focused more on connection than it is primal desire. She cries the first time she sleeps with Sonny, whether it is because of instant guilt for what she's doing to her husband or if she's overcome with the feeling of being wanted and desired. Yet Ruth still maintains boundaries for herself despite how hard they hit her. When Sonny returns after forgetting about her, she is unhappy to see him but welcomes him in anyway. She yells, she's mad, then she cries. She sits in the frame alone, lighting soft on her face so you can see the loss in her eyes as she says, "…I'm 'round that corner now. You've ruined it, it's lost completely."

Lois is Jacy's mother and a rich woman married to a man she doesn't love. He provides for her financially but hardly provides for her in any other way. Lois reveals later on in the film to Sonny that she lost out on her one love for money which is a value she tries to instill into Jacy earlier when they stare at each other (yet Lois stares at a version of herself, trying to repeat the cycles that she lived) through the mirror in Jacy's room.

Of course Lois finds an escape in sex. Her marriage is implied to be sexless and she is sly in the way she acts towards that aspect of her marriage. She isn't shy about it and how it makes her unhappy. After Jacy tells her that she's rich and miserable, Lois leaves her bedroom and goes straight to the phone. In a long shot, the camera follows Lois from her wine glass to the phone where she calls up Abilene, the man she has been having an affair with. He supplies that desire to be needed physically and somewhat emotionally since she lost out on that with her marriage and her inability to be with Sam the Lion. Her character gets the least attention when it comes to this sort of commentary, yet she feels the most relatable to older women between her and Ruth.

Jacy is the character I find to have the most explored relationship to sex in this film. I also want to mention that outside of this class I am reading The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir and while reading her chapter on psychoanalysis (I'm sorry to bring Freud into this, but Graham Fuller does say "Oedipal revenge" in his writings…so) I was thinking how applicable it was to the nature of Jacy's character. Simone de Beauvoir writes that as women come to an understanding of masculine superiority as little girls, once they reach the stage of engaging in sexual relations, the frustration comes to being physically underneath men rather than just metaphorically and socially. Women will engage in "masculine protest" in two ways:

make efforts to masculinize themselves, which isn't terribly applicable to her or the other two women either.

makes use of her feminine weapons, which we can see her do as she amps up her methods of manipulation when she strings Sonny along for attention and becomes sexually active.

However, there is nothing to shame here when it comes to young women learning about their sexuality and exploring it. One scene I've already mentioned, the pool hall with Abilene, is a good example of where her sexual escapades both tore her character down and propelled her forward at the same time.

There are a lot of close up shots of her body. Her hands going through the pool pockets, her legs slipping out of her shorts, Abilene's hand lifting her onto the table, a spotlight on her face as he pulls her close with the stick, etc. Yet nothing came of this for her. He shuns her advances after the act though and she is distraught over the lack of serious commitment from men. Her only offer is sex and that doesn't give her the attention she yearns for.

This sentence from The Second Sex in particular strikes me as applicable to all three women: "She is divided against herself much more profoundly than is the male."

These three women don't benefit from the male-dominated systems in place, nor have the control over their sexual relationships they think they do. They are not sexually free women and are fighting against the systems that oppress them by acting within those limits. Adultery and pre-marital sex are still actions that please men even though they challenge the status quo when it comes to sex. And again, with the context of where this film lies in the sexually-free political discussions being had by women of the time, this film must have been very forward with it's depictions of women who struggle to break free from these oppressive positions. Jacy has the ability to be seen as a character with the most freedom, but her exploration is not out of a want to have sex, but out of a need for attention and validation.

Very relatable, very current. All of it still applicable to the conversation.

[madisfilmblog]

The Graduate (1967) dir. Mike Nichols

Benjamin Braddock is back from college feeling completely and utterly aimless. It's rare to just be handed an emotional man such as this one, but what this film attempts to tell its audience is how powerful a backseat emotion like apathy can truly be.

The listlessness Ben feels is not just reflected in his mannerisms and facial expressions (however Dustin Hoffman does play the part strikingly well) but also though everything around him, including the camera. Of course, this aimlessness leads to him falling into a strictly sexual affair with a family friend and married woman, Mrs. Robinson.

The audience gets a very intimate view into the characters on screen, not just Ben. Not to jump the gun, but there is a very distinct scene in which Ben reveals to Elaine, Mrs. Robinson's daughter, that the affair has been with is mother. Once exiting Elaine's room, we see Mrs. Robinson with a similar face of... lost. She is distraught yet eerily calm. The camera is close to her face as she says goodbye to Ben, then zooms out to reveal her alone in the corner. Ben's head takes up nearly a third of the frame alluding to the fact that Ben has made Mrs. Robinson feel small. In this situation, she is not the powerful and hungry seductress she was at the beginning of the affair. She's a regular woman whose family is about to fall apart.

To backtrack, we know that Ben finds solace in water. When you're feeling fairly lost in life, it does feel like you're stuck in an ocean with no direction to swim for safety. But what the physicality of water actually does for Ben is gives him a moment to breathe. On his 21st birthday, when Ben's seemingly pushy parents are trying to drag him out of the house to show their friends his new scuba (very fitting) suit, we get a very interesting point-of-view shot through his goggles. While his parents are clearly guiding him and puppeteering him almost, we just hear his heavy breathing. While surrounded, he's alone. Isolated, drowning. And this is furthered when his smiling father pushes his head back under and Ben just stays there.

He knows that when he goes back up, it'll be full of stuffy conversations and everyone dragging him every which way. There is no one else in the pool, no one else whispering in his ear. Similar to scenes where we see close-up shots of him floating, he is seldom bothered by his parents.

I want to bring up this sequence because it fits in with the idea of swimming again. The montage that comes directly after the first time he sleeps with Mrs. Robinson is pretty important in understanding where he stands with what he's decided to do. What his aimlessness has made him into a pushover. He doesn't know what he wants, and he understands that it is immoral to sleep with a married woman. Yet the appeal of a sexual relationship is not written off as something he doesn't fully want, so of course...why not? What has he got to lose?

Silence and Sound by Simon and Garfunkel plays again indicating that he feels no less lost than he did stepping off the plane at the beginning of the film. Fade transitions indicate a fading day-to-day existence. The passing of time and the continuation of his affair are monotonous and routine.

Most of the match cuts in his sequence place him amongst a black background, whether it's a couch a pillow or a headboard, almost as if he is in an abyss. Still in his head.

The match cut that ends this sequence is the one that brings up the theme of water again. After jumping into the pool, Ben places his hands on the edge to pull himself out. As he does, the scene cuts to him landing on Mrs. Robinson's chest.

Instead of just swimming in water and finding peace in lounging that way, he is trying to find peace and direction through a woman. He is still lost, now swimming in a similarly aimless relationship.

Of course, this blows up in both of their faces. I mentioned earlier how the camera really lets the audience have such an intimate view into not only how Ben feels about the world around him, but also Mrs. Robinson.

She is a seemingly complex character but not hard to read at all. Her "den" is lush and green, she wears a lot of animal prints, and she is more often in Elaine's room on screen than in her own. She claws at youth and knows what Ben can give her is some semblance of it. A mirage of what she wish she could have had if Elaine hadn't thrown a wrench in her future.

In the seduction scene, one part that I particularly found compelling for the interpersonal relationship between Ben and Mrs. Robinson is when she lifts up her leg on the chair as she attempts to hatch her plan on Ben.

The lighting is favoring her. We can see her clearly, but Ben is fairly dark in this scene. As she lifts her leg, Ben could easily see up her skirt, but the light does not show past her mid-thigh. This view isn't for us, it's just for Ben. We already know what she's doing, what she wants, and how she plans to get it.

Of course what follows is the shot from her leg, and Ben instantly knows what's happening. This shot is iconic, and telling of what's to come. But this shot is where Ben says, "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me,". Her body language doesn't match her response, as she laughs it off and lets him feel as if he read her wrong. If it's his idea in the first place...the blame can go on him later.

It does.

The last time we see Mrs. Robinson is at the church, where Ben comes to retrieve Elaine and run off with her. The camera focuses on Elaine's face fairly close as if everything around her doesn't matter. As she looks at the faces near her, the camera shows close up shots of those people telling her what not to do. Mrs. Robinson, while shown in this scene only a couple times has a close interaction with Elaine. Projecting, she tells Elaine it's too late, and Elaine responds with "not for me". We know this is a pretty devastating blow to her character, yet at this point in the film, we aren't occupied with the inner-workings of how she feels anymore. It's all about Ben as he finally thinks he knows what he wants.

And with the final scene, we can see maybe he doesn’t really know still.