Imagined reality

Before we find out about Jim's (Matthew Goode) death, we see George's (Colin Firth) imagined discovery of his car crash in the snow. We cut into a wide establishing shot of the area, smoke from the car and Jim's blood bringing life to the frame. Then George enters. As he moves towards Jim's lifeless body, we dolly behind him, the surrounding snow-covered landscape almost surreal--probably indicative of the sequence's fabricated reality within the film. When I witnessed the actual occurrence of George hearing about Jim's death, a much more bleak, uneventful, anticlimactic experience in which he simply receives a phone call, I instantly recalled the snow car-crash sequence and adapted this moment to the rest of the film, especially whenever the hue of the film changed (which happened a lot, and more consistently towards the end of the film). Most of what happens in the film--film color, abstract/surreal sequences, flashbacks--resembles George's distorted view of reality. Most of life is grim, mundane, lifeless. When he becomes elated, so too does his surroundings, his encounters with people, his attitude. Throughout the film, whenever a change in one of these elements occurred, I began to think about how it related to the entire film, how it related to all of the elements of the film, and how it related to Tom Ford and his views expressed in the film. These changes in George's psyche emphasize his isolation from society as a homosexual, and also as having lost a loved one. Everyone continues life as though everything were perfect, including and especially in the scene in which George drives by the "perfect" suburban family--a daughter and son playing in the yard, the father on his way to work, the mother going about doing household tasks. His existence as an isolated figure distort his psyche in multiple ways, of which we are subtly experiencing throughout the film.

Melancholia and the Evolving Cinema

There are two particularly interesting moments in Melancholia, both dealing with inevitability, that posit technological evolution as a questionable agent in the future of cinema. I believe the inclusion of technology will benefit cinema far more than it will harm it. Not only does adapting new technology to the cinema attract more movie-goers, but it also allows us to delve deeper into what film really is and provides us with infinite possibilites to produce meaning. Yes, it will ultimately ruin "cinema" to the common movie-goer, but for those who appreciate film as a form of art will appreciate its worth. The first moment in Melancholia that proves my point, which is a recurring theme, is the bridge. Each time the protagonists attempt to cross the bridge, they are unable to. The first time, Justine's horse becomes disturbed by something about the bridge and refuses to cross. The second time, Claire's golf kart's battery dies and she decides to go back to the mansion, carrying Leo. This sense of unavoidable fate emphasizes our continual drive towards and inescapable reconstruction of film with technology. The last moment I'd like to bring up is the ending scene, in which Justine, Claire, and Leo sit under the "magic cave" and wait for the impending doom. The abruptness of the fiery apocalypse calls attention to how rapidly film is changing. Who knows how long it will be before 3-D films become a thing of the past? Leo represents the ignorant and the innocent--closing his eyes and pretending everything is all right--Claire represents the rebellious and the upset--cowering away from the exploding horizon--and Justine represents the embracers--remaining at peace with the wave of death approaching behind her. While some relate to Claire and interpret this final moment as an end to the cinema, others, including me, relate to Justine and see it as a welcoming to a new unseen era.

How to approach "Psycho"

Main Argument: I believe the Formalist Approach is the most effective method of studying film because it is more concrete and applicable, whereas the Ideological Approach, while very persuading and effective, tends to be more subjective.

·      Claim #1:

o   V.F. Perkins’ Approach (The Synthetic Approach) facilitates an effective method for it takes any specific shot—rather than a sequence or montage—and produces significance in how it affects cinema as a whole.

§  Perkins claims Hitchcock “aestheticizes” the horror, which can be used in multiple instances in the film (and in the horror genre).

·      Claim #2:

o   Robin Wood’s Approach can take any single key aspect—from shot choice, to lighting, etc.—and produce significance in how it fits in our world.

§  Wood describes the moment of revelation as the “irretrievable annihilation of a human being.” In this instance, he takes a moment in one shot and explains its significance to us and its relation to the world.

·      Claim #3:

o   Mulvey seems a bit prejudiced, and her article on Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema (from Sexuality and Gender in Cinema) doesn’t apply as effectively in this case.

§  Although the “scopophilic instinct,” where one person gains pleasure in looking at another as an erotic object, is definitely true for male spectators on the female characters, especially in the shower sequence, it does not aid the concluding scene in which we discover the murderer’s identity, nor does it prove useful for the window scene. 

Braudy's "Illusion of Reality" and Midnight in Paris

Owen Wilson stars in Woody Allen's Midnight in paris (2011) as a troubled screenwriter looking for inspiration on his novel. Wilson, ironically, isn't someone we would call an "intellectual," yet his character strives to become enlightened. Woody Allen sprinkles little ironies throughout the film, like Owen Wilson's casting, potentially to call attention to the viewer. Out of the many situations throughout the film that have ironic and subtle humor, I would like to talk about one scene in particular that, I would imagine, gets overlooked repeatedly. In one scene, Owen Wilson realizes that he is in 1920s Paris with the Fitzgerald's and Hemingway, and he decides to follow them to a club/cafe with stylized music and dancing. While everyone celebrates and has a good time, he sits motionless, jaw agape. It looks like he is either having some sort of epiphany or he's lost all control of his muscular functions. All it takes for the "illusion of reality" to work is the viewer's belief in the reality created by the filmmaker. And all the filmmaker has to do is turn on the projector. Gil (Owen Wilson) represents this "infantile state" that we undergo when watching film when he sees his idols before his own eyes. Other moments throughout the film support this argument, such as moments in which different characters state how pictures cannot capture experience like experience itself, including when Gertrude Stein, Pablo Picasso, and Gil talk about Picasso's painting of Adriana. This could be a representation of how Woody Allen thinks of film goers--sort of like the theme of Good Will Hunting (1997) and Dead Poet's Society (1989), which emphasize the notion of 'carpe diem,' Woody Allen could be saying that, instead of watching films and thinking about the past, we should be outside and living life to the fullest. The opening montage sequence of Paris-in-a-day also implies this view, showing people that Paris isn't everything the movies make it out to be.