There Will Be...............Questions for Old Men
As Denzel Washington read the names of the nominees for Best Picture at the 2008 Oscars Awards it was clear in the minds of those watching that although five movies would be mentioned, the competition lay firmly between Coen Brother’s No Country for Old Men and Paul Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. These exhibited masterful craftsmanship by their directors and actors that earned the respect and praise of the Academy. Although they tell different stories they have more in common however than nominations and level of praise, enough at least to argue that their rivalry was less of a coincidence and more out of attraction for the style employed by the movie’s plots.
An important factor that made these two movies distinguishable is that they blur the lines between protagonist and antagonist, either wedging both into the same character or harmonizing the appeal between hero and villain so closely that as the film concludes the audience is no longer sure if the good guys won or not; because who the hell were the good guys anyways and why are they supposed to win? Did anyone win?
Perhaps it is the unconventional portrayal of good and evil that is daunting.
Protagonist, Daniel Plainsview is no hero; instead he is an alcoholic, limping, grief stricken by the pain he has caused his son and embalming himself with his hatred for the entire world as if it is a quality he needs to survive. Whatever good that comes from him is either garnered by someone else’s good intentions or tainted by the real motivations that lie behind it. Although it is to him that our sympathies first go to and his story that we follow, there seems to be nothing protagonistic about him by the end of the film.
Antagonist Anton Chigurh embodies a calm, collected almost peaceful attitude; imperfect and yet invincible, stoic and yet reaping satisfaction from his work. His notion of justice is decided by the chaos of chance and it is by chance that Chirgurh has to pay at all. He suffers only a gun shot wound, a broken bone and some scrapes; a small price to pay for enormity his crimes. Although his position as antagonist doesn’t change during the film, whatever protagonists there are end up killed by Mexicans or retire, never making a final stand. Without anyone to challenge him it would seem he has won but bloodied and on the run, his escape hardly feels victorious and the reality is that we never really do find out what Chigurh’s ultimate motivations were or even why he is so violent.
What we do know however is that this character shares the same appeal as say Hannibal Lector, Mr. Brooks and other flawless-like murderers who have been depicted in relatively protagonistic roles. He isn’t the “good guy” in the movie, but as he spares the life of the old man at the gas station in such a child-like and playful manner, a more comical and merciful side of him appears. While the escape of a murderer is by its nature a bad thing, the appeal that his character has softens the negative connotations of the ending of the movie and makes his escape acceptable to the audience.
What all this means is that these two films leave the audience confused because the endings not only transcend the normal “good guys win and bad guys lose” doctrine but also the “bad guys win, good guys lose” doctrine. By the end of each story, even though time has passed and many events have taken place, it feels like the characters have moved backwards instead of forwards; that nothing has been accomplished that helped anyone at all.
In the shadows of the monuments of praise heralded to both these films were the complaints of non-climactic endings that left the audience without that final wholesome message relieving the viewers from the cruelties exposed to them and then dwarfing those cruelties with a righteous victory that rises from the ashes of torment, compensates all injustices and ultimately defines the movie with a positive spin.
The job of final judgment is ceded to our imaginations. Whereas Hollywood has generally shelled out happy ending standards that give positive flavor to cinema, the satisfaction that is usually granted is withheld and the audience is forced retreat and search the rest of the movie for the meaning and truth.
If you combined the ideologues from both these films to make an imaginary world view it would say: “Justice is an illusion and should be left to chance, rules are there to make us creative about the way we take around them, family is either a means to an end or a liability and life is not a fairy tale.” It is not a happy message, nor is it really right or wrong. But since when was it supposed to be?
Monday, March 10, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Seattle Times Article on Violence in Entertainment
Misha Berson tries to explain why it is that people have no problem watching violence on a stage but then recoil at the thought of violence in cinema. In doing this she makes a few important and frequently revised points. It is obvious that violence in a movie can be more realistically portrayed on the big screen (given all the special effects available to them in contrast with live theater). But the bigger point is that many people believe that the attraction to violence in entertainment comes from peoples desire to vent out their violent desires in a socially acceptable and peaceful manner.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/movies/2004251289_violence020.html
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/movies/2004251289_violence020.html
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Proposal
This year at the Oscars there were two well-praised movies that stood out that shared similar styles. These are No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood. Comparing the two by looking at their success and the similar properties that helped them get there, I would like to write a critical essay about what their popularity says about our culture.
Both films exhibit dark violent moods that seem to appeal to the audience. They both have main characters whose priorities lie in obtaining and maintaining power. In addition family, money, and religion/philosophy are all factors that influence each movie and each character in the movie. Finally both movies end abruptly. There are no fairy tale endings in either the movies. Instead there is a finality in which both movies seem to end almost exactly as they started, nothing really resolved and quite a few people dead.
Using these defining characteristics as context, what do these movies say about our society?
Both films exhibit dark violent moods that seem to appeal to the audience. They both have main characters whose priorities lie in obtaining and maintaining power. In addition family, money, and religion/philosophy are all factors that influence each movie and each character in the movie. Finally both movies end abruptly. There are no fairy tale endings in either the movies. Instead there is a finality in which both movies seem to end almost exactly as they started, nothing really resolved and quite a few people dead.
Using these defining characteristics as context, what do these movies say about our society?
Monday, February 25, 2008
Hope at the Oscars
Leave the happy endings to Hollywood. Never mind the writer’s strike that lasted months and cost Hollywood billions. Had it not been for Jon Stewart’s comical references it would seem almost as if nothing had ever happened. And who better to pull off such a stunt than an auditorium full of actors, directors, playwrights, comedians and the like?
Hosting once again, Jon Stewart quickly defined the 80th Annual Oscars calling it the writer’s strike “make-up sex”. His light-hearted comedy seemed to make up for the heavy feeling that hung over Hollywood in the previous months. Both quick and witty, Stewart improvised throughout the show; consciously providing a mistranslation of Javier Bardem’s Spanish to “I believe he told his mother where the library was.” Even cueing the orchestra after one of the commercial breaks, Jon Stewart should be commended.
Afraid that the writer’s strike would extend past the Oscars, the Academy had prepared video clips that recalled famous Oscar moments and decided to use them regardless. The effect was a nostalgic recap of Oscar history that seemed to remind everyone there what they were fighting to preserve.
The Oscars awarded were carefully sprinkled out amongst a large number of movies but a few stood out. No Country for Old Men seemed to pull out on top taking best picture, best adapted screenplay, best director, much appreciated by the famous Coen brothers and best supporting actor for the proud Javier Bardem. But There Will be Blood’s British star Daniel Day-Lewis grabbed best actor and La Vie en Rose’s French star Marion Cotillard grabbed best Actress. Interesting to notice is that the European crowd won many of the awards this year. Taken aback, even Tilda Swinton from Scotland took best supporting actress for Michael Clayton.
Perhaps the most humble to receive an Oscar were Irish Glen Hansard and Czech Market Irglova with best original song; “Falling Slowly”, performed beautifully by them onstage. Cut off before she could give her acceptance speech, and she wasn’t the only one, Jon Stewart took advantage of his hosting powers in a touching moment to allow her to return to the stage and say a few words.
In the absence of the strike something else took hold. In between the random shots of Jack Nicholson smiling in his sunglasses and the clips of Cher’s spectacular costumes there was a feeling of hope for the future. Memories of the writer’s strike and the obvious European failed to tarnish the feeling of communal pride because as Market Irglova wisely noted: “hope at the end of the day connects us all, not matter how different we are”.
Hosting once again, Jon Stewart quickly defined the 80th Annual Oscars calling it the writer’s strike “make-up sex”. His light-hearted comedy seemed to make up for the heavy feeling that hung over Hollywood in the previous months. Both quick and witty, Stewart improvised throughout the show; consciously providing a mistranslation of Javier Bardem’s Spanish to “I believe he told his mother where the library was.” Even cueing the orchestra after one of the commercial breaks, Jon Stewart should be commended.
Afraid that the writer’s strike would extend past the Oscars, the Academy had prepared video clips that recalled famous Oscar moments and decided to use them regardless. The effect was a nostalgic recap of Oscar history that seemed to remind everyone there what they were fighting to preserve.
The Oscars awarded were carefully sprinkled out amongst a large number of movies but a few stood out. No Country for Old Men seemed to pull out on top taking best picture, best adapted screenplay, best director, much appreciated by the famous Coen brothers and best supporting actor for the proud Javier Bardem. But There Will be Blood’s British star Daniel Day-Lewis grabbed best actor and La Vie en Rose’s French star Marion Cotillard grabbed best Actress. Interesting to notice is that the European crowd won many of the awards this year. Taken aback, even Tilda Swinton from Scotland took best supporting actress for Michael Clayton.
Perhaps the most humble to receive an Oscar were Irish Glen Hansard and Czech Market Irglova with best original song; “Falling Slowly”, performed beautifully by them onstage. Cut off before she could give her acceptance speech, and she wasn’t the only one, Jon Stewart took advantage of his hosting powers in a touching moment to allow her to return to the stage and say a few words.
In the absence of the strike something else took hold. In between the random shots of Jack Nicholson smiling in his sunglasses and the clips of Cher’s spectacular costumes there was a feeling of hope for the future. Memories of the writer’s strike and the obvious European failed to tarnish the feeling of communal pride because as Market Irglova wisely noted: “hope at the end of the day connects us all, not matter how different we are”.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Defense of "Set Your Tasers on Slo-mo Wipeout" by Mike Hale
Mike Hale’s review of “Unbeatable Banzuke” is a well paced, clear cut, simple article. Going into the background from where Banzuke originated, Hale provides easy context for Americans to understand the show: by comparing it to Jackass.
Although Hale seems to lean on the rave side with a “but” early in the article, his position remains ambiguous. The only argument he really makes is that Banzuke is about as good as Jackass and only abandons his neutrality on the subject to keep Banzuke in parallel with Jackass.
Maybe not everyone would be satisfied with this comparison, but Hale politely explains the similarities and also the differences between these two similar shows; a healthy compare and contrast. By doing so the reader gets two things:
Firstly, by comparing the article to Jackass, Hale has allowed the assumption that if someone doesn’t like Jackass, they probably won’t like Banzuke and that is useful for a reader who will now not waste his time on a show he won’t enjoy. Secondly by contrasting the shows he has allowed the reader who does like jackass to use that as a standard that he can grade Banzuke from. The result is an article that is of practical use to any reader who is interested in the show.
p.s. i couldnt find the link but its in monday's paper, page B10.
Although Hale seems to lean on the rave side with a “but” early in the article, his position remains ambiguous. The only argument he really makes is that Banzuke is about as good as Jackass and only abandons his neutrality on the subject to keep Banzuke in parallel with Jackass.
Maybe not everyone would be satisfied with this comparison, but Hale politely explains the similarities and also the differences between these two similar shows; a healthy compare and contrast. By doing so the reader gets two things:
Firstly, by comparing the article to Jackass, Hale has allowed the assumption that if someone doesn’t like Jackass, they probably won’t like Banzuke and that is useful for a reader who will now not waste his time on a show he won’t enjoy. Secondly by contrasting the shows he has allowed the reader who does like jackass to use that as a standard that he can grade Banzuke from. The result is an article that is of practical use to any reader who is interested in the show.
p.s. i couldnt find the link but its in monday's paper, page B10.
Monday, February 18, 2008
It’s Enough
When the Whole Arts Theatre decided to put on a production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? they probably already understood that the resources available to them would not compare in scale or grandeur to many previous productions of the play.
This is a reality that many smaller theatres face. Instead of working to make the most glorious version of a well known play, the goal is to put on a production that can remind the audience of the play’s glory and to remind the audience of the entertainment that a live, in the round theatre performance can provide.
Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? debuted on stage in 1962, before being made into a movie in 1966. It is the story of a maddened couple, George and Martha, and the time they spend entertaining young couple, Nick and Honey, in their home for a “nightcap.” The older couple, heavily inebriated, tantalizingly drags them through the issues of their tumultuous relationship. During the course of the evening, Nick and Honey’s own problems surface, wreaking emotional havoc amongst four people so wacky and intense that the only natural response seems to be to squirm in your seat—or join in on the drinking.
Richard Philpot and Martie Philpot, George and Martha, respectively, beautifully execute their characters. Maybe their offstage marriage contributes to the chemistry that produces their vicious and violent arguments. But the Philpots consistently outperform both Carol Zombro as Honey, and Trevor Maher as Nick, in tact and execution.
The Philpot’s seemed to have found their characters making their performances appear far more natural than those of Nick and Honey.
While Honey is definitely supposed to be drunk for a good deal of the play, Ms. Zombro’s choice of facial and corporeal expressions instead misleads that audience to conclude that Honey has developed some sort of severe mental handicap in the course of the evening. What is really supposed to be a role that is comical alternatively turns into a role that makes little sense in the play and evokes pity rather than laughter.
Mr. Maher is more in touch with his character, acting within the frame of sanity, but with both hands waiting at his side like a quick draw cowboy, many of his lines were delivered quickly and missed their target. Precariously smoking a cigarette, the audience practically holds their breathe to see if he will choke or continue to deliver his lines.
It seems that the younger cast was chosen based more on availability than merit and this is all well because the only disappointment available is for the people who go to the play and expect a performance as great as Elizabeth Taylor’s. Given the scale of production and price of the show, Ms. Zombro’s and Mr. Maher’s performances’ are not exactly reprehensible and with the Philpot’s performance, it is enough to call this a successful local production.
This is a reality that many smaller theatres face. Instead of working to make the most glorious version of a well known play, the goal is to put on a production that can remind the audience of the play’s glory and to remind the audience of the entertainment that a live, in the round theatre performance can provide.
Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? debuted on stage in 1962, before being made into a movie in 1966. It is the story of a maddened couple, George and Martha, and the time they spend entertaining young couple, Nick and Honey, in their home for a “nightcap.” The older couple, heavily inebriated, tantalizingly drags them through the issues of their tumultuous relationship. During the course of the evening, Nick and Honey’s own problems surface, wreaking emotional havoc amongst four people so wacky and intense that the only natural response seems to be to squirm in your seat—or join in on the drinking.
Richard Philpot and Martie Philpot, George and Martha, respectively, beautifully execute their characters. Maybe their offstage marriage contributes to the chemistry that produces their vicious and violent arguments. But the Philpots consistently outperform both Carol Zombro as Honey, and Trevor Maher as Nick, in tact and execution.
The Philpot’s seemed to have found their characters making their performances appear far more natural than those of Nick and Honey.
While Honey is definitely supposed to be drunk for a good deal of the play, Ms. Zombro’s choice of facial and corporeal expressions instead misleads that audience to conclude that Honey has developed some sort of severe mental handicap in the course of the evening. What is really supposed to be a role that is comical alternatively turns into a role that makes little sense in the play and evokes pity rather than laughter.
Mr. Maher is more in touch with his character, acting within the frame of sanity, but with both hands waiting at his side like a quick draw cowboy, many of his lines were delivered quickly and missed their target. Precariously smoking a cigarette, the audience practically holds their breathe to see if he will choke or continue to deliver his lines.
It seems that the younger cast was chosen based more on availability than merit and this is all well because the only disappointment available is for the people who go to the play and expect a performance as great as Elizabeth Taylor’s. Given the scale of production and price of the show, Ms. Zombro’s and Mr. Maher’s performances’ are not exactly reprehensible and with the Philpot’s performance, it is enough to call this a successful local production.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Review of “In Treatment” for the Gazette
“In treatment” is very similar to what it would be like if anyone could spy on patients while they talked to their shrinks. In fact it’s probably about just as good or better because you don’t have to feel guilty about it, because in this case it’s legal and because your couch is probably more comfortable than anywhere you might have spied from.
Adhering so far to juicy sexual, emotional, gut wrenching and controversial issues, the series focuses around the work of psychoanalyst Paul Weston, played by Gabriel Byrne, who seems to be “in treatment” himself. His sessions vary widely in tone and topic; Laura with love trouble, Alex with guilt trouble, Sophie with sanity trouble and Jake and Mary with abortion trouble.
This unlikely mesh of people has at least one thing in common however. They all seem to be at war with Paul in every session, forcing him to fight for every psychological victory. This seems to be the form in which Paul’s own problems are manifesting themselves, where he was once able to preserve his patience with his patients (a pun used in the show). Frustration building, he decides to visit Gina an old friend and supervising colleague, who he hasn’t seen in ten years, to see if she can explain his professional downturn. In this way ‘In Treatment’ is different from the everyday psychology session because; what does therapy really mean anymore when the psychoanalyst is the one that is being analyzed?
Well, psychoanalysis isn’t the same as regular psychology. Psychoanalysis is Sigmund Freud’s approach in psychology which works on the basis that people have sabotaging thoughts and mental processes that they are not conscious of and which will continue to weak havoc unless brought to light in “treatment”. So it would make sense that Paul, apparently making the same mistake as his patients, would have to go see another person to figure out his problems right? Maybe, but it’s so interesting to be in the mind of the psychologist for a change that it doesn’t really matter.
“In Treatment” should really be called “In therapy.” It is closer to the truth. “Treatment” sounds so civilized, like the application of a band aid to a wound. But therapy can better express the mood of the show, because behind Paul’s calm face, the pretty furniture and apparent scientific methodological approach there is a wave of conflict and tension that practically emanates from the TV screen. Every patient seems to represent an almost barbaric nature and with every response Paul is forced to rally back with the proper civilized nature that masks the surfacing emotions that he is scared he can’t control anymore. Watching “In Treatment” is really like indulging in a guilty pleasure that normally wouldn’t be permitted. It may be a just a show but it has all the realness that one could hope for and a few more perks to it to boot.
Adhering so far to juicy sexual, emotional, gut wrenching and controversial issues, the series focuses around the work of psychoanalyst Paul Weston, played by Gabriel Byrne, who seems to be “in treatment” himself. His sessions vary widely in tone and topic; Laura with love trouble, Alex with guilt trouble, Sophie with sanity trouble and Jake and Mary with abortion trouble.
This unlikely mesh of people has at least one thing in common however. They all seem to be at war with Paul in every session, forcing him to fight for every psychological victory. This seems to be the form in which Paul’s own problems are manifesting themselves, where he was once able to preserve his patience with his patients (a pun used in the show). Frustration building, he decides to visit Gina an old friend and supervising colleague, who he hasn’t seen in ten years, to see if she can explain his professional downturn. In this way ‘In Treatment’ is different from the everyday psychology session because; what does therapy really mean anymore when the psychoanalyst is the one that is being analyzed?
Well, psychoanalysis isn’t the same as regular psychology. Psychoanalysis is Sigmund Freud’s approach in psychology which works on the basis that people have sabotaging thoughts and mental processes that they are not conscious of and which will continue to weak havoc unless brought to light in “treatment”. So it would make sense that Paul, apparently making the same mistake as his patients, would have to go see another person to figure out his problems right? Maybe, but it’s so interesting to be in the mind of the psychologist for a change that it doesn’t really matter.
“In Treatment” should really be called “In therapy.” It is closer to the truth. “Treatment” sounds so civilized, like the application of a band aid to a wound. But therapy can better express the mood of the show, because behind Paul’s calm face, the pretty furniture and apparent scientific methodological approach there is a wave of conflict and tension that practically emanates from the TV screen. Every patient seems to represent an almost barbaric nature and with every response Paul is forced to rally back with the proper civilized nature that masks the surfacing emotions that he is scared he can’t control anymore. Watching “In Treatment” is really like indulging in a guilty pleasure that normally wouldn’t be permitted. It may be a just a show but it has all the realness that one could hope for and a few more perks to it to boot.
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