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“The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner” - LMD08120 (Documentary film)

I think this documentary is incredibly rich in its thematic elements, and is also a testament to the power of the filmmaker to craft his/her own narrative from the world around them. Herzog presents Walter Steiner as something of a mystical being; the first shots we see are breath taking, dreamlike slow-motion shots of Steiner soaring through the air. He is long and lanky, his mouth seemingly frozen open. He looks like he belongs nowhere else. When we hear Steiner speak, as he carves wood into a bowl, we then realise the gentility and grace in his mannerisms as well as his sport. Even Herzog himself, an eccentric man, has a gentle presence in the film. He speaks softly and curiously. 

Typically, our perception of athletes is something of a ‘Superman’; someone incredibly disciplined, perhaps self-obsessed, focused on becoming the best they can be and an inspiration to many. Steiner, however, is in a contrast to this. Steiner seems to ski fly, not because of his skill and potential, but simply to fly. He has an air of calmness, effortlessness, and often speaks of his sheer respect for the sport. 

Steiner’s character, the carving of the wood, and the footage of him flying all create this image of him akin to that of a bird or an angel. Steiner seems at one with his environment, which is then reinforced by his carpentry creations of the natural resources around him. 

Herzog clearly did not create this film to shine light on the world of ski flying; the title itself is “The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner”, not “The Great Ecstasy of Ski Flyer Steiner”. Herzog also contextualises next to none of Steiner’s success within the sport; no other names of athletes are mentioned, nor are their scores read aloud during competitions. This film is about Walter Steiner, or at least, Herzog’s meticulously crafted presentation of Walter Steiner; he does not include any context regarding Walter’s life either. We see fragments which constitute a whole. Even Steiner himself seems to not be concerned with the competitive sport; when he scores three twenties in his jumps, Herzog asks him if it had ever been done before (it hadn’t), to which he replies that he doesn’t know, but it’s at least a first for him. This also lends itself to the image of Steiner as an athlete without pride or ego, and just passion for the sport itself. 

One of the most interesting parts of this film is when Steiner starts to talk about the raven he raised when he was young - the only personal insight we are offered of his past. He talks about the connection he felt with this bird, which immediately suggests ties to our idea of Steiner being something non-human; something purely of the natural world. This is ironic here, as Steiner’s attempt to connect with and raise the bird was the intervention which led to its deterioration and death, as if no matter how hard he tries to be one with nature, the birds, the skies, he cannot escape his own human skin. 

All of these themes are brought together by the text presented at the end of the film. These are actually Herzog’s words, not Steiner’s. Thus, it is completely in the hands of the filmmaker to manipulate the reality around them into their own palatable narrative. In this case, Herzog has created a poetic, dreamlike profile of a man both burdened and freed by his need to fly.

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FILM GENRES - "Crime Scene" storyboard

Here are the images of the storyboard I drew up for "Crime Scene". Firstly Alexander and Luke told me which shots they want included and I worked around these. I wanted to employ a dutch angle in most of these and use mostly static camera, typical of the genre. As Luke is our director and he and I live together, I was able to keep him updated as I drew it up to make sure he was happy with all of the choices. We shot pretty close to the storyboard, but due to run time restrictions and problems with tape not sticking to the ground, a fair few shots didn't make it into the film. The finished film also included some shots that weren't included in the storyboard and I thought to try out on the day, such as the magnifying glass to camera and the handheld shot of him 'smoking' from behind. I really enjoy drawing up storyboards; I get genuinely excited trying to visualise something that currently only exists in words. I then used this storyboard to write up a shot list, which Cameron put into a spreadsheet for our cast and crew.

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LMD08115 2020-1 TR1 002 - FILM GENRE - "A Nocturnal Scene" Peer Review

I thought this film was seriously impressive. The cinematography is excellent; the slow, tracking shots really lend themselves to the film’s build up. The way they used lighting to establish the noir genre was also brilliant - the shot with the shadows of the blinds on his face stood out especially. Their use of low angles and high key lighting throughout also really helps reinforce it as a noir. The production design is also brilliant; key noir iconography like the gun, whiskey and the cigarette are well utilised. The detective’s cork board looks great as well. I think the sound mix works really well and their use of sirens and dogs barking also helps establish the genre. I think the sound design really helps guide our attention, it builds so perfectly and the voice on the walkie talkie helps drive the narrative, too. I wasn’t expecting the ending at all. The transition at 3:15 into the ‘real world’ looks incredibly professional and the transition is perfect for taking us out of his head. The cut is also matched pretty perfectly with the banana. I think the juxtaposition between these two worlds works really well and it is a testament to the film’s production design/use of lighting to make the same space look so wildly different. I struggle to pick out criticisms, except perhaps for the film’s pace. Considering this film is already over the time limit, I feel like the slow build up could be significantly cut down. Or perhaps if there’s a point where it picks up before the reveal at the end. It’s an excellent example of showing and not telling, but the pacing of the first two thirds of the film feels too slow. Some shots we linger on for too long and it makes me feel like this certain object (e.g. the radio) is going to be something important that we return to, but we don’t. The first shot also threw me a bit - its composition is gorgeous, but the floor lamp really takes me out of the genre. I think everyone who worked on this film should be seriously proud of themselves (and well done for finding a man to act in your film!)

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Joker, Todd Phillips (2019)

I’ve seen Joker three times so far. I’m confident there won’t be a fourth.

I was really looking forward to this film. I’m a die-hard fan of Nolan’s Batman trilogy and an even bigger fan of Heath Ledger’s performance as the joker, yet I was still eagerly anticipating Phillips’ “Joker”. It looked like an interesting take on the bone-dry superhero movie and the large format images I saw in the trailer were nothing less than stunning.

Perhaps hyping yourself up too much for a film is a guaranteed way to be disappointed. “Joker”, for me, was a waste of time. I couldn’t put my finger on what unsettled me so much about this film upon seeing it the first time, so naturally I went back and saw it again (and again, but with my Dad upon his request. I wasn’t going to say no).

Joaquin Phoenix’s performance in this film and its cinematography are its only saving graces in my opinion. I was very invested in the first forty minutes or so; we see Arthur struggling to balance the duality within himself. We empathise with him, we want him to succeed, we want him to be the good person we know he is capable of being. I think this works so well because of the dramatic irony at play here: everybody knows the film is going to end with Arthur being a mindless killer, because everybody knows who the Joker is. I think this could’ve been explored a lot more. Instead, we see Arthur reach his breaking point (mirrored by him shattering the glass of a telephone booth with his face) and murder three men on the subway. From here on out, I lose interest.

I read an IndieWire review that suggested “Joker” is the film that people misinterpret “Fight Club” to be. I could not agree more. The similarities between the two films are shocking, even. A mentally unstable white man, who thinks the world owes him a favour, has a violent outburst which causes him to split his own persona in half, until his violence has accidentally created an entire anarchistic anti-capitalist movement, despite his wishes to remain apolitical. “Fight Club” is poking fun at self-pitying men who aren’t given the world like they were brought up to believe. Sure, Tyler Durden is cool, but we do not empathise with him, nor the narrator. The narrator destroys lives, kills loved ones, commits acts of terror and eventually falls victim himself. In “Joker” however, we miss that final step. Arthur has his groundbreaking epiphany that violence and chaos are the only solace in a world where no one cares about you, but that’s all the film leaves you with. It’s no wonder audiences feared for how this would influence ‘incels’ or inspire mass shootings in alienated Americans; the film indulges in its own violent self pity without justification or resolution. Another film by men, for men, without the self-reflection needed to realise their own flaws and create something worthwhile from it.

It also irked me quite a bit how much Thomas Wayne was painted as the evil bourgeoisie. The anti-capitalist tone to the film felt like it was trying very hard to side with the liberal left the 2019 generation are getting the reputation for being. After all, if there’s anything us PC snowflakes want more, it’s a comic book super villain being portrayed as a victim of mental illness and trauma trying to overthrow capitalism. Yipee.

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22/10/19 - Capturing Movement, FILMING

Today, we filmed our coffee sequence. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find a coffee shop in time who would allow us to shoot. We contemplated dressing up one of our flats as a coffee shop but decided it was too ambitious. Instead, we used the same shots, using a slightly different story. Our original sequence was going to be of a rude woman buying her coffee, only to storm out and annoy the barista further than she already had. We adapted the story to instead be of two flatmates who have clearly had an argument or are in the midst of some sort of conflict. One character is trying to make amends with the other, and gives her a cup of coffee. The other character takes a sip, slams down her cup and storms out. This way, we’re staying true to the roots of our idea (the coffee, the cold dynamic between the two characters), but changing our characters and location.

Maddy played the coffee-making character, and Elsa kindly stepped in to be the unimpressed flatmate. I was the DOP, though we all took a fluid approach to our roles, helping each other and offering suggestions to one another whenever we could. I really liked this approach. Maddy and Colleen were a delight to work with - creative, professional, flexible and a positive attitude. 

We began shooting at 9, and finished by 2pm. I was proud of our visualisation skills, always keeping in mind the edit and our goal of creating continuity and flow. Our opening shot I’m especially proud of; as we had no access to a tracking dolly, our no-budget-substitute was for me to lie on my stomach on Elsa’s skateboard while Maddy and Colleen pushed either of my feet to keep me balanced. This worked surprisingly well. 

Considering our last-minute change of plan regarding what our sequence was going to be, I’m very happy with the outcome. Tomorrow, we’re editing the sequence in Avid.

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15/10/19 - Capturing Movement, PLAN

For this project, we’ve been given a number of shot types we must include in a short sequence of our choice. I’m in a group with Maddy and Colleen. We’ve decided we want the situation we’re shooting to be simplistic, so we can focus on the task of capturing movement smoothly. We decided our sequence will be an unlikeable woman buying coffee at her regular coffee shop.

SHOTLIST (assembled by Colleen)

STORYBOARD (masterminded by myself)

We’re reviewing our idea next Wednesday with Keiran. The main obstacle to overcome will be finding a coffee shop to shoot in.

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Sequence Analysis - Mirror Maze, Lady From Shanghai

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Ad Astra, James Gray (2019)

Sci-fi films are not films I tend to seek out. Obviously, there are exceptions to this, with sci-fi films often having the unique ability to play out ‘what if’ scenarios of current day affairs. ‘Ad Astra’ is not one of these films. ‘Ad Astra’ is, unfortunately, two hours of quintessential epic shots accompanied by Brad Pitt’s whinging and self-pitying.

If ‘Ad Astra’ didn’t employ Brad Pitt’s constant voiceover, I would have enjoyed this film immensely more than I did. Rather than ‘showing not telling’, James Gray assumes his blockbuster audience to need to be shown and told at all times. The film presents us with a double journey; Pitt’s journey into the depths of the solar system to his father, and an internal journey to overcome the trauma of his father leaving. As the film progresses, we see Pitt become more and more aligned with his father and his mistakes. They’re both reduced to the same existential isolation, feeling incomplete and dissatisfied by their lives on Earth. They are both unable to return to ‘normal’ life. Like his father, Pitt commits atrocities in order to complete his mission (which, at this point, is self-assigned. By the time Brad Pitt is on the ship to Neptune, he’s already reached a body count of around five. Can someone please tell me why we’re supposed to support his actions and his reunion with his father?)

This is reminiscent of Willard’s double journey in ‘Apocalypse Now’. While Willard does give us a voiceover, it’s used conservatively and sometimes contrapuntally to what we’re being shown. His voiceover gives us clues to piece Coppola’s message together, whereas James Gray explicitly hands it to his audience. We see Willard become more and more like Kurtz as he travels further up the river, just as we see our own anti-hero Brad Pitt become his tortured father. I think this could have been so successful if the voiceover hadn’t been so persistent, and his character wasn’t so unlikeable. 

To further consolidate my belief that this film needed subtlety to be successful, some of my favourite elements of the film were parts that weren’t explored. For example, we rarely hear Pitt talk about his wife. His wife feels neglected and unloved. Their marriage is failing, but upon Pitt’s return to Earth, we see her meeting him for a date, smiling. The moon is also fully commercialised in the ‘near future’ James Gray is exploring. We see billboards, corporations and brandings. Again, this isn’t addressed, which is why it works. The moon is presented as a place of ‘unity’, where borders don’t exist. Again, we see this on a poster, rather than this being foregrounded in Brad Pitt’s whining. When they travel across the moon on lunar buggies, they’re attacked by ‘pirates’, who want them for their ‘resources’. Thus, humans will never achieve peace and union amongst one another where a Western capitalist regime is in place. I think this was achieved excellently, and this might have been my favourite sequence in the entire film.

I could go on with all my pet peeves from this film, like the incongruous space baboon that eats the crew of a research ship, but ‘Ad Astra’ is really not a bad film. For a blockbuster epic, the film is surprisingly slow and stunning. It’s also refreshing to see a male protagonist with ‘daddy issues’. I actually enjoyed ‘Ad Astra’ more than I thought I would, but it’s, unsurprisingly, overrated. If two hours of Brad Pitt sticking his lower lip out and realising the dangers of toxic masculinity is what floats your boat, I couldn’t recommend it more. 3 out of 5 stars.

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Lost In Translation, Sofia Coppola (2003)

Sofia Coppola is a director I’ve wanted to familiarise myself with for a while. I've been told that her aesthetic motifs and complex female protagonists would really resonate with me, and I decided to start with ‘Lost In Translation’, having been endlessly recommended it. While its narrative may be simplistic, presenting us with few characters and their rationed encounters, ‘Lost In Translation’s strength lies within its thematic exploration and its representations of place.

‘Lost In Translation’ follows Charlotte and Bob’s fleeting romance in Tokyo, spanning over a mere week, before parting ways to, presumably, not see each other again. Both characters feel disillusioned with their lives, floating through the motions of their dissatisfied lives. Their connection to one another in the transient setting of Tokyo thus acts as a blazing counterpoint to their mundane, Western worlds. The relationship between the film’s themes of identity/connection/belonging and their environment really interests me. This reminds me of Wong Kar Wai’s ‘Fallen Angels’, wherein we follow the lives of our protagonists in Hong Kong. Both Kar Wai and Coppola exploit the nebulous atmosphere of Eastern Asia’s capital cities, creating a dreamlike visual aesthetic that aligns perfectly with the characters’ loss of touch with their realities. 

Unlike ‘Fallen Angels’, due to our protagonists and Coppola herself being Western, othering is used to enhance the alienation that Charlotte and Bob feel, securing their dependence on each other even further. The talk show that Bob speaks on presents us with a slapstick, stereotypical representation of Japanese television, in which Bill Murray’s deadpan, cynical performance reinforces the binary opposition between Western and Eastern. This is also the case in the karaoke sequence, in which we’re shown one of Charlotte’s friends poorly singing in English with his thick Japanese accent. This sequence I had seen before, having read about Coppola and her editor timing this sequence perfectly halfway through the film. We see Murray’s character look at Charlotte, look away, then look back. We cut to mid-close up shots of each of them, their eyes fixed on one another; the moment he falls in love with her. 

The ending of this film had me equally captivated and discontented. Coppola’s understanding of complicated relationship dynamics becomes unmistakably clear during this sequence. The two share a muted, relatively disconnected goodbye in their hotel, as to save themselves from the emotional onslaught that a heartfelt goodbye would rid them with. Murray’s character, in his taxi to return back to his family in the US, catches sight of Charlotte in a busy street. Of course, he tells the taxi to stop, and chases after her. After this goodbye, we see Johanson’s character walk away from her lover, hardly visible in the sea of strangers the streets are filled with. This shot had a particular effect on me; Johanson’s performance here is perfect; looking at the ground, we see her pushing down a beaming smile that presents itself as a smirk, a secret. This is a feeling I think most people can identify with - walking away from something beautiful, something that’s yours, and you can’t help but smile for yourself only. What’s especially interesting is that the fade to black does not take place here, but rather after a montage of the roads and streets of Tokyo, to the beautiful ‘Just Like Honey’. This is reflective of their worlds continuing without one another. Their romance has ended, but the world still turns. They’re forced to return to their lives. 

It’s safe to say I will definitely be watching more films of Sofia Coppola, perhaps when my hormones aren’t going to reduce me to a blubbering mess by its end.