I’ve been thinking about this lately: the opening sequence of a film. It’s typical for a filmmaker to go the narrative exposition route–that is, he/she front-loads all the essential information about what has happened prior to when the film begins so that audiences can feel comfortable, informed, aware, and be absorbed into the diagesis. There are exceptions. Some of the James Bond films give us “pre-credit sequences” that are more like sideshows, and these sequences do not, in any way, prepare audiences for the film as such (I’m thinking of Goldfinger, Thunderball, The Spy Who Loved Me, Moonraker, Octopussy, and so on). What I’m interested in, however, are opening shots, or sequences of shots, that do not provide anything in the way of narrative info, but do, in some way, capture the overall theme or tone of the film. The thing is that, upon first viewing, these shots or sequences of shots, may slip by us. We may not recall them, we may not process them, they may, in some cases, even hinder our efforts to “get into” the film. But upon subsequent viewings, they seem to resonate. Continue reading Inspired opening sequences
Day: December 12, 2005
Question for Film Eggheads
riddle me this, dynamic didacts: let’s say you were assigned to teach a class with the unwieldly title “Popular Culture, Civil Society and the Public Sphere” where at least one unit would focus on comedy, another on historical representation and yet another on critique of the media/culture industry. What films (and affiliated texts) might you wish to teach? in 100 words or less, why? I ask purely out of curiousity and not at all because I am preparing a sample syllabus for such a topic and wish to pick your brains….that would be unseemly.
Cowboy sex
Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain is a work of art—a lean, spare, unsentimental film suffused with loneliness and longing. That being said, I think the American public will ignore this plaintive love story. Though the Wyoming landscape is gorgeous to look upon (cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto deserves an award from someone), the film’s episodic structure and the lack of big, sweeping emotional moments (i.e. MAINSTREAM) will limit the film’s appeal. Admittedly, I walked away from the screening feeling a bit let down. I guess I wanted the Gay Gone With the Wind everyone’s been hyping. I wanted to feel emotionally drained. Such expectations, however, are not fair. The film is certainly full of big moments and genuine human conflict and there are well-earned laughs throughout. Still, it is far from histrionic and the nature of the story of these two men preclude the kind of fireworks I was expecting. Instead, Brokeback Mountain is a quiet and contemplative film fueled by passive aggression, self-loathing, fear and sadness. I have been haunted by it for the last dozen hours or so—I’m in a melancholy mood today—and such a response is due to the filmmakers deep respect for their source material as well as the story’s contentious subject matter not to mention the heart-wrenching performances of Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams and a memorable supporting turn by “Freaks and Geeks†alum Linda Cardellini.
Geopolitics and mainstream film
Less flashy but more substantial than The Constant Gardener, I found Syriana to be intelligent and provocative—an unassuming and impassioned yet labyrinthine melodrama. Though it flirts with moral ambiguity, the film is very clear about who the bad guys are and who the good guys are. The fact that some of the good guys are perceived to be, at first, bad buys doesn’t make their purity of intent any less romanticized. The film requires great patience but the rewards are there . . . indeed, the film’s climax is quite exciting and suspenseful. I will also point to the fine ensemble work among the actors (in particular, the young man who played the Pakistani terrorist in training).
Narnia
When it is not attempting (poorly) to replicate the visual splendor and complexity of the Lord of the Rings films (the CGI here can be quite muddy), The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe proves to be an old fashioned, delightfully charming work of family entertainment. It is not the centaurs or dryads or giants or talking beavers that captures one’s attention but the subtle and unforced performances of the young actors in the central roles. Director Adamson has coaxed very good work from these kids, and it is their commitment to the material that makes the film soar. Tilda Swinton is fantastic as the White Witch (and her costumes are fabulous), and James McAvoy’s gentle, enchanting performance as Mr. Tumnus was truly memorable (he’s all the rage in our house at the moment). The adaptation opens up yet improves upon C.S. Lewis’ novel, which, after reading it aloud to my daughter last week, can grow a bit twee. After the wearisome Harry Potter IV, I was a bit reluctant about taking Cate to another big holiday film, but she was absolutely riveted. Indeed, the theatre was packed and, considering the number of small children in the auditorium, remarkably—reverently—silent.