tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6026118953295703182024-03-05T23:35:36.086-06:00Lisa's Academic Film ArchiveCritical Writings On Film From My Career At Columbia College ChicagoLisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-62287432963110013952008-03-11T12:43:00.007-05:002008-03-11T13:22:43.429-05:00"Punch-Drunk" Redemption<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQWDvlEYRQxy3nAg-HZ1hhGFcfzj0Z4aEGz2kiwZohlF6plxrFBwY8rKjSVTQ5A86D-KOheiCtSTlgNCBkVtsWBK1D9CRt5hWpgXwp4yydTyl1bsYiYeBEJlUguzFpHXfmsY_51bXIeOg/s1600-h/pdl1.bmp"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176548730397136066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQWDvlEYRQxy3nAg-HZ1hhGFcfzj0Z4aEGz2kiwZohlF6plxrFBwY8rKjSVTQ5A86D-KOheiCtSTlgNCBkVtsWBK1D9CRt5hWpgXwp4yydTyl1bsYiYeBEJlUguzFpHXfmsY_51bXIeOg/s320/pdl1.bmp" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Before there was blood, there was <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em>. Written and directed by Paul Thomas Anderson and released in 2002, <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> pays homage to its cinematic heritage by reinventing preexisting genre archetypes. It is also a wonderful example of a “comedy of romance,” as opposed to the more traditional “romantic comedy.” In a comedy of romance, the complexities of characters and relationships are explored, whereas in a romantic comedy, the goal is for boy to inevitably get girl after encountering numerous obstacles that keep them apart. <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> stars Adam Sandler as Barry Egan, a lonely, insecure, depressed, angry man, and the film follows Barry’s unconventional relationship with Lena. Anderson’s unique ode to love also recalls two other films from the romantic comedy genre, Preston Sturges’ <em>Hail the Conquering Hero</em> (1944) and Cameron Crowe’s <em>Say Anything…</em> (1989). By citing specific examples, this paper examines those three aspects of <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em>: its use of archetypes, its categorization as a comedy of romance, and its comparison to other films from the genre.<br /></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176548738987070674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kIVlpf1O72OeQpJCpIkjlKllc6mkpYTV-nFJ6qkw9SdRAxU0WMXqr9ayU3UvpCoI-BpU1n1Dr-qIKm7Wnmyjrz3Czy3ktoXg8e4E6Okpj0RGrJ87WnSMwcBeVKCCuDAVYeH0zrGCe4Yd/s320/punch-drunk_love-05.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While romantic comedies today do not necessarily have easily identifiable archetypes, such as the spoiled heiress or working-class spitfire born of the Depression, they still very much exist. In <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em>, Barry Egan most obviously resembles the self-exploratory male. Barry is completely closed-off and rather socially awkward. He displays anxiety after his first meeting with Lena when she drops her car off to be repaired and gives her keys to him. After she leaves, he quickly retreats behind the nearest wall, completely out of breath and seeking solace in the dark. His entire existence can pretty much be summed up by his obsessive need to collect the frequent flyer miles offered by Healthy Choice. However, he has no plan to use them to go anywhere. He is totally complacent and does not possess any real initiative or motivation. His sisters constantly ridicule him, which helps explain his utter lack of self-esteem. He is also violently angry, and his rage erupts without any warning. Barry is the ultimate self-exploratory male without even realizing that he is in need of self-exploration.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Without a doubt, the relationship between Barry and Lena is the most significant. It is the perfect example of the attraction of complements. Barry desperately needs someone like Lena to treat him with some kindness, since he has never been treated kindly before. Lena needs a relationship to build a solid foundation on because she is constantly traveling for her work. They connect, deeply and immediately, and after he leaves her apartment after their first date, he chastises himself for his exit line: “And bye-bye, you stupid motherfucker.” Once downstairs, he gets a phone call from Lena, who sweetly and bravely tells him, “I just wanted you to know, wherever you’re going or whatever you’re doing right now, I want you to know that I wanted to kiss you just then.” He runs all the way back to her apartment, but Anderson subverts typical romantic expectations by having Barry get lost several times along the way. By the time he arrives at her door, he is completely out of breath. He kisses her and then proceeds to leave again. The fact that Lena does not find this odd in the least, and the fact that the viewer does not question it either, proves their compatibility. Anderson chooses to explore several different types of relationships in order to help the audience understand Barry, but also to challenge the viewer to seek personal connections and refuse to accept the interpersonal complacency that paralyzes Barry for most of the film.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">More than anything, <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> is about Barry’s perilous journey of self-discovery. At one point, he tells his brother-in-law, in a voice simultaneously sheepish, defeated, and apologetic, “I don’t like myself sometimes.” He continues, “I sometimes cry a lot, for no reason.” He then proceeds to burst into tears on the spot, making the viewer both chuckle and cringe. Like Todd Solondz, Anderson knows how to successfully walk the line between endearingly funny and pathetic or offensive. Barry inhabits a blue universe – he wears a blue suit, and his apartment is bathed in an eerie blue glow. He is constantly framed alone in the midst of a vast open space, like at the beginning of the film when his desk is shoved into the corner of the room at work. At his apartment, Anderson chooses to show Barry either on the very edge of the frame, like when he sits alone at the kitchen table opposite a gapingly empty chair, or to follow him around claustrophobically as he paces his home, anxious and uncomfortable in his own skin. He pleads with Lena to be patient with him and assures her, “I don’t freak out.” Yet Barry’s resolution proves that the film is a comedy of romance. He confronts Dean, fueled by his love for Lena, and says in the most confident voice he has used the entire film, “I have so much strength in me. You have no idea. I have a love in my life. It makes me stronger than you can imagine.” Barry is a different and better person at the end of the film, and that is what sets <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> apart.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Yet even though this film is unquestionably a comedy of romance, when the film is romantic, it is overwhelmingly romantic. In fact, the romance is played very melodramatically. On a pay phone that is directly on a parade route in Hawaii, he calls Lena, and when she answers, the phone booth lights up magically, gold and radiant. They meet up in this utopian paradise of white and pink columns, surrounded by impossibly lush vegetation. Their bodies meet in silhouette, and they stand still and kiss as people walk back and forth in front of them. Finally, they rest their heads against each other, and the space in between them forms a heart. When they have sex for the first time, they engage in cannibalistic banter. She tells him, “I want to chew your face, and I want to scoop out your eyes, and I want to eat them.” But the way Sandler and Watson deliver the words Anderson wrote makes this horrific dialogue seem poetic and sweet. It is one of the most romantic scenes in one of the most unexpectedly romantic films in recent years. Anderson demonstrates that making a comedy of romance does not require the sacrifice of unabashed romanticism.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Preston Sturges’ contribution to the romantic comedy genre as a writer-director is incalculable. “Sturges’ brand of intelligence was not only sharp but wild and cynical as well” (Kendall 263). <em>Hail the Conquering Hero</em>, released in 1944, “was the last of Sturges’ Paramount films, and it’s among his densest, richest, most oddly beautiful works” (Harvey 633). It features Woodrow Lafayette Pershing Truesmith (Eddie Bracken), the son of a military hero who was discharged from the Marines for chronic hayfever and is too humiliated to return home.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the beginning of the film, the camera tracks down a bar past all of the patrons, travels over a large, empty space, and finally lands on Woodrow sitting despondently at the end of the bar, a virtual chasm between him and the rest of humanity. Anderson utilizes this framing technique over and over again to emphasize Barry’s loneliness. When Woodrow encounters some actual Marines, they convince him to go home and then fabricate his heroism, leading to lots of adulation that he acquires fraudulently, causing him tremendous torment and exacerbating his preexisting identity confusion. Like Barry, he must ultimately confront his demons and find himself, which he does at the end of the film in a heartbreaking monologue formidably delivered by Bracken: “If I could have reached as high as my father’s shoestrings, my whole life would be justified and I would stand here proudly before you…instead of as the thief and coward that I am.” The town always accepted Woodrow, but at the end, he learns to accept himself. Also, on a purely comedic level,<em> Punch-Drunk Love</em>, full of broad physical humor, echoes Sturges’ propensity for pratfalls.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Whereas <em>Hail the Conquering Hero</em> ends fairly optimistically, if ironically, <em>Say Anything…</em> examines love from the perspective of pain. At the beginning of the film, when Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) describes his desire to pursue Diane Court (Ione Skye) and gets warned against it, he professes, “I want to get hurt!” This rather grim declaration expresses the very simple fact that being in love requires insanity and a little masochism. Written and directed by Cameron Crowe, <em>Say Anything…</em>, released in 1989, bears striking similarities to<em> Punch-Drunk Love</em>. Lloyd basically is Barry, although not as self-destructive. Lloyd expresses his anger and frustration through kickboxing instead of busting patio doors or beating up bathrooms. He is insecure and feels inferior to brainy Diane, much like Barry undoubtedly feels with Lena. This is a true attraction of complements, because Lloyd teaches Diane to relax and have fun, and Diane makes him feel more confident. At one point, he states, “The girl made me trust myself.”<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Like Barry and Woodrow, Lloyd’s future is uncertain, but he is honest with himself about it. When his teacher challenges him about making a decision, he counters, “But I know that I don’t know.” He must figure out what he wants to do with his life, and he decides that Diane is the answer. If they are together, he believes everything else will fall into place. Even though the ending leaves it up to the viewer, it appears that Lloyd is right. One other important issue that Cameron Crowe and Paul Thomas Anderson agree upon is the necessity of a grand romantic gesture. <em>Say Anything…</em> features certainly one of the most touching, powerful, and heartfelt gestures in the history of cinema. John Cusack standing outside of the window holding the boombox over his head while Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” fills the restless summer night air is simply unforgettable. Similarly, the montage of Barry traveling to Hawaii to find Lena, including the dramatic walk down the glowing white hallway to the plane and culminating in their silhouettes kissing amidst a colorful paradise, all while “He Needs Me” underscores the giddy romanticism, is just as grand and effective a gesture as the boombox. By examining other films with similar themes, it puts <em>Punch-Drunk Love</em> in perspective in the overall genre, but it also highlights and celebrates its uniqueness.</span></p>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-82068510135433100682008-03-11T10:11:00.009-05:002008-03-11T12:42:15.731-05:00American Night Owls: Loneliness in Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xn7LfukvcH7wuYtqWi7-aDHkbKMlFhuzCe2aqur51eF1R4HgpN0EL20Im6XAZJvUxDhHVpV6bXOp7Ht21tj6OM0IIfTixXeywC6agLobY1lTC1p2G_FgJKdN1j-URMVjh42DlBpFn2_I/s1600-h/19670_186752.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176508400654226610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xn7LfukvcH7wuYtqWi7-aDHkbKMlFhuzCe2aqur51eF1R4HgpN0EL20Im6XAZJvUxDhHVpV6bXOp7Ht21tj6OM0IIfTixXeywC6agLobY1lTC1p2G_FgJKdN1j-URMVjh42DlBpFn2_I/s400/19670_186752.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">This paper was written for a film class called Visual Analysis, but the assignment was to look outside of the world of cinema and select a work of art that could be viewed in person in order to analyze its aesthetic and thematic elements. Edward Hopper’s iconic 1942 American painting entitled <em>Nighthawks </em>is housed in the Art Institute of Chicago, and the technique, message, and social-historical context of the work are analyzed in this paper. Painted right after the United States entered World War II following the attack on Pearl Harbor, <em>Nighthawks</em> captures the loneliness, desperation, isolation, and hopelessness that Americans were feeling at the time. It definitely depicts the darker side of the war experience on the home front. This painting of a diner at night is especially intriguing because it looks like it could be a still out of a movie. It is very film noir in appearance and spirit, and this makes sense since that cinematic movement was just underway. While Norman Rockwell presented people with idealistic, hopeful images of Americana, Edward Hopper refused to ignore the stark reality gripping the United States, which is actually quite refreshing. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Since the use of color can convey a mood, it is not surprising that Hopper used muted hues in <em>Nighthawks</em> to convey despair. But even though the colors seem heavy, Hopper used them strategically to create remarkable contrasts. The street looks very gray and cold, which makes the fluorescent yellow of the diner even more striking. The woman’s red dress pops against all the darkness. The painting looks almost neon, like the figures are washed out under all that electricity. Hopper expertly manipulated tonalities to haunting effect. <em>Nighthawks</em> could be a frame out of a film noir, a genre that emerged right around this time. Light and dark areas alternate dramatically, and shadows abound. Warm light from the diner bathes the street outside, and one can practically hear the hum of the street lights. The whole painting glows with an unsettling greenish-blue glow, punctuated by the blazing yellow inside the diner. Both the colors and tonalities emphasize the cold, unfriendly mood.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While artists like Norman Rockwell produced idealistic, utopian works that wildly differed from the harsh reality of the war years, Edward Hopper refused to ignore the pain gripping the country. <em>Nighthawks</em> definitively reflects its social and historical context by commenting on modern alienation. In spite of being right next to each other, all four figures are totally alone. They are the victims of a cruel, cold, apathetic world, dejected and resigned to hopelessness. Similarly, the city outside of the diner is totally empty, offering the people inside no comfort whatsoever, a true indictment of urban growth and detachment. The world has forgotten them, and they have lost themselves. These people appear to be trapped inside of their glass coffin, with no door to the outside visible to the viewer. There is no solace, and everyone must suffer alone. It is a bleak, honest, and uncompromising view of the world in the midst of a devastating war.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-5137608124027147142008-03-10T12:10:00.003-05:002008-03-10T12:34:41.055-05:00Example and Exile: The Life and Career of Jan Nemec<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">The film movement known as the Czech New Wave (1963-1968) exploded as a reaction against years of Communist oppression. A small group of filmmakers started making films that dealt with social issues and criticized the current system. Some directors were able to adapt to the government’s censorship, but Jan Nemec was not. His films, which avoid linear storytelling and focus more on abstract emotions like other films of the period, are all scathing and subversive, but his most controversial film is<em> Report on the Party and the Guests</em>. It got banned and was the downfall of his career, and he was eventually forced out of Czechoslovakia for many years. Nemec’s films are also evaluated in the context of the movement at large. He only made four films (three features and one documentary) during the Czech New Wave, but his rebellious spirit still endures in his work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">A chilling depiction of the dangers of conformity and a clear metaphor for the political situation in Czechoslovakia, <em>Report on the Party and the Guests</em> killed his career. “Antonin Novotny, the president of Czechoslovakia, went ballistic and the film was banned. It was released for a short period during spring of 1968 and was then locked in a vault again for the next 20 years” (Buchar 11). The government felt threatened by his films and grew paranoid. They panicked when they could not figure out what <em>Martyrs of Love</em> was about. In fact, <em>Martyrs of Love</em> is a poetic celebration of love, as the title implies, and has nothing to do with politics. After the controversy surrounding these films, the government fired him, and he was bullied out of the country in 1974. He roamed around Europe and then lived in the United States for twelve years before coming home in 1989. Recently, he enjoyed some success with 2001’s <em>Night Talks with Mother</em>, and he currently instructs documentary at the Film Academy (Buchar 29). </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, Jan Nemec played a vital role in establishing and expanding the Czech New Wave. His career was very brief, but his films have endured over the years. “Nemec has described his film style as one of ‘dream realism,’ and despite some major differences, this term can be applied to all three of his Czech features” (Hames 199). In each of his films, Nemec wanted to create a separate, timeless universe, one that avoided any connections with reality. Sadly, he was not able to avoid the harsh reality of his own life or the censorship of his career.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-37829741412687249042008-03-10T10:30:00.012-05:002008-03-10T11:30:40.828-05:00Berthe Morisot: Beauty, Persistence, and Genius<span style="color:#333333;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Paper Abstract:<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Written for a survey art history course covering the Renaissance to the present day, this paper analyzes a painting entitled <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em> (circa 1875), which was created by Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Morisot</span>, a French female Impressionist. The paper assignment required the object of study to be one that could be viewed in person, and this painting is displayed in the Art Institute of Chicago. While <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Morisot</span> worked with the other major Impressionists, like Monet, Renoir, and Degas, she has been tragically overlooked in most discussions of Impressionism. In her time, though, she was the most renowned female Impressionist, and one of the only. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Morisot</span> was born into wealth, but she never relied on her comfortable status. Instead, she exhibited tremendous ambition and fierce independence in pursuing her painting career. Most of her paintings were of upper class subjects, especially women. <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em> combines her unique skill and beautiful style with a sensitive, insightful examination of femininity and women in society. The painting is intricately discussed to examine its technique, content, and meaning. Finally, broader connections are made between <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Morisot</span>’s career and issues of femininity and feminism. Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Morisot</span> was truly a pioneer and a feminist before her time.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><em><strong>Note</strong>: The painting never seems to look quite the same, depending on where it is found, whether it is in a book or on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">internet</span> or on a gift shop postcard. The colors and tones always vary, sometimes very slightly and other times more drastically. In person, it looks different still. Two images of the painting are presented to show examples of the discrepancies and various incarnations that appear in different sources. The first is taken directly from the Art <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Institute</span> of Chicago's website (and this even looks different than it did years ago when the paper was first written), and the second is from a different website.<br /><br /></em></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"><em>When the viewer is privileged enough to stand right in front of it at the museum, the actual painting is somewhere in between these two color extremes. The real hues do not look quite as white-gray as the first, nor do they appear as greenish as the second. Actually, the tone is more blue than green, and the painting is slightly closer to the first picture overall.<br /><br />But, look at these two pictures together and imagine a middle ground in between them, color-wise, and that is what it really is. That is the authentic painting. It is unfortunate that the images out there fail to capture the real colors and tonalities, because the painting as intended is stunning, and a painting should always be viewed as it was meant to be. Regardless, these images still capture the remarkable beauty of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Morisot's</span> work. No matter what, <strong>Woman at Her Toilette</strong> is breathtakingly gorgeous.<br /></em><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176139325524546658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2jgkUMSx3KYX5KmaDofUZVZc0ObDhlBCLLhwCTnw5Gp5ZwgWZYGz2oCVGmO5G7yqGVmgJpHRGJIW1xcDsaaLZwccQ8kf7Zf-ZvSwg32ic9r-7gDRl8znQhOArzx6YQf5fs3r383yog3_/s320/1234_184633.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176139647647093874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdsTjs8_pnKpJErmobR9RJnrUOuqFheGtG7oThZD16nmKXxvW6UJKquDNdurd970WPGEaOp3cycTGhOwoGezRAZ2GgoTKyLzwAYGob8ALMAkGNTpl3ya3nbOLCH5wi-ElQ3M5wJWBia7Rl/s320/Woman_Toilette.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:<br /></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">“Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Morisot</span> became a painter despite being a woman. She painted the way she did because she was a woman” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Higonnet</span>, <em>Images</em> 1). Indeed, since artists first started signing their works in order to get recognition and even in the anonymous years before that, men have dominated the art world. Even if female artists received the slightest bit of appreciation, their accomplishments were waved off as silly feminine whims, and since men set the rules, women were certainly never worthy of the effusive title of “master.” Society, especially in the 1800s, expected women to behave in a certain way, with the utmost propriety, and any deviation was condemned. As a member of the Impressionist movement, Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Morisot</span> transcended these obstacles and excelled as an artist, connecting in an unprecedented way with a feminine audience. “As she brought stylistic, iconographic, and conceptual aspects of feminine visual culture to painting, and as she concentrated on those aspects of painting that could accommodate what she brought, she changed painting” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Higonnet</span>, <em>Images</em> 5). Throughout her life, Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Morisot</span> challenged social conventions and enjoyed professional and personal success, produced one of her most intimate and significant works with <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em>, and addressed issues of femininity and feminism in a male-dominated culture.<br /></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the beginning of 1874, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Morisot</span> received a devastating blow with the death of her father. Yet at the same time, his death encouraged her to continue along her “radical” artistic path. “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Edme</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Tiburce</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Morisot</span>’s death left his daughter freer to pursue her own interests. She could, for instance, worry less about adverse publicity surrounding the forthcoming exhibition” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Higonnet</span>, <em>Berthe</em> 110-111). This show, the legendary first Impressionist exhibition, was launched in April of 1874 by a revolutionary group of all men, with the notable exception of Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Morisot</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Higonnet</span>, <em>Berthe</em> 111). Despite mixed reactions, Impressionism asserted its forceful presence, and the art world took notice. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Morisot</span> emerged as one of the group’s true leaders, receiving unparalleled attention and success for a woman of the time.<br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">With no clear light source acting upon the painting, <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em> seems to radiate with an ethereal glow from within. But the most striking visual element of the painting is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Morisot</span>’s skillful use of color, used to heighten the calm tone. In a dazzling kaleidoscopic display, multiple shades of blue, pink, white, and silvery-gray combine to produce a beautiful and feathery pastel feast. The woman’s dress sparkles in a brilliant shade of angelic white, her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">blonde</span> hair blazes, the otherwise empty right side is filled with flecks of color, and the pink and yellow flowers jump out. Overall, <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em> evokes a peaceful mood and plays on the emotions with its subtle, breathtaking beauty. But the reflection of the objects in the mirror and not the woman poses a different interpretation, perhaps a comment on material excess, superficial preoccupations, and life’s fleeting nature, a mild critique of the very society of which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Morisot</span> herself was a part. </span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Despite being in the right place at the right time, when European society showed the slightest sign of cracking that would allow a woman to excel, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Morisot</span>’s tremendous success was by no means the result of luck. Her ambition pushed her to take risks. Even though <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Morisot</span> did not paint the more scandalous subjects of her male contemporaries, she understood the limitations of her status. “By choosing safely feminine themes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Morisot</span> made it possible to cling tenaciously to an extremely daring unfeminine career while making minimal personal sacrifices” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Higonnet</span>, <em>Berthe</em> 102). Instead of more blatant social commentary, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Morisot</span> subtly subverted the system with her fierce persistence. And she managed to make her own statements about femininity that bordered on feminist, especially in <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em>. While acknowledging the required standards of beauty in her society, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Morisot</span> also challenged them. “Since the woman is turned away from us, since her mirror reflects only the cosmetics and the flower, and since those objects are so much more literally prominent than anything else in the painting, we are given to understand that feminine beauty resides materially in the objects…” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Higonnet</span>, <em>Images</em> 155). In her own quiet way, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Morisot</span> expressed a powerful message about the conflict between the desire to conform to ideals of feminine beauty and the need to break free of its shackles. </span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Along with the questions of femininity posed by <em>Woman at Her Toilette</em>, the painting also alludes to issues of domesticity and motherhood, both considered to be women’s duties at the time. Actually, while much progress has been made as far as women’s rights since <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Morisot</span>’s time, this prejudice still exists in today’s society. Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Morisot</span> had to reconcile concerns about social expectations with professional aspirations, but she certainly embraced the concepts of domesticity and motherhood. As a woman and an artist, the birth of her daughter Julie presented her with her greatest joy and challenge. “From her birth Julie became the centre of her mother’s passionate attention” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Shennan</span> 196). But she soon realized that her identity as a mother was inextricably linked with her identity as an artist, and she rose to the occasion enthusiastically. “Maternity changed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Morisot</span>’s art profoundly, altering her subject matter and encouraging her to experiment both stylistically and intellectually…” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Higonnet</span>, <em>Images</em> 3). During her life and career, Berthe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Morisot</span> proved it was possible to find a symbiotic balance between being feminine and being a feminist, to meet social expectations while also confronting them on her own terms, and her revolutionary example paved the way for future women artists.</span></p>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-55139660538430597092008-03-10T06:29:00.004-05:002008-03-10T08:50:40.491-05:00"Mildred Pierce" and the World War II American Woman: Rosie the Riveter or Housewife?<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During World War II, American women went to work in record numbers. They took over jobs traditionally held by men, experienced unprecedented financial and personal freedom, and kept the war machine and economy running with their invaluable contributions. Once the war was over, they were unceremoniously asked to give the men their jobs back and return to the home, where society deemed they belonged. <em>Mildred Pierce</em>, directed by Michael Curtiz, was released in 1945 and thus coincided with the end of the war. The film is a virtual time capsule of American society during World War II, perfectly capturing the freedom and the grim aftermath of the female experience. Joan Crawford stars as Mildred, a single mother and wartime Everywoman who attains substantial success in the business world but loses her femininity along the way. The consequences of Mildred having a career are blown way out of proportion to emphasize the inequity women faced during this period. This paper discusses the role of the American woman during and after World War II and examines the film’s ramifications in its social-historical context.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While pursuing her career, Mildred attains great success, at the expense of her femininity. Similarly, the country that asked the women for help also told them that working made them less feminine. Mildred trades love for her career, because women could not possibly have both. Yet even though Mildred achieves relative financial freedom, Monte and Wally own shares of her business, so she never really escapes the control of men. Like many American women, her career ends abruptly. “When the war ended, the nation welcomed the men home and began enforcing the promise the women workers had made – or the country had decided they had made – to give up their jobs for the returning soldiers” (Collins 394). In the final moments of the film, women are forced back into domesticity, indicated by the two women washing the floor and Mildred’s unemotional reunion with Bert. Finally, order is restored, at least according to society.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, <em>Mildred Pierce</em> portrays the two extremely conflicting sides of women’s involvement in World War II. Success and sacrifice are inextricably linked in a world with no hope of balance. Michael Curtiz and the other filmmakers denounced the social conditions facing women by equating a career with incest, death, bankruptcy, and murder. They depicted the constantly changing, unrealistic demands placed upon women. By articulating their message so overtly and exaggerating the extreme and incongruous ramifications of Mildred’s alleged transgressions, the filmmakers challenged the very foundation of American society in the 1940s.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-48433174426097388452008-03-10T04:52:00.003-05:002008-03-10T06:25:36.564-05:00Aging Gracefully<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:<br /><br /></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">The contemporary preoccupation with youth, especially in Hollywood, is not a new phenomenon. The 1950s was by far the most oppressive decade for American women. They were expected to know their domestic roles, and they also had to conform to new and unrealistic standards of beauty. Old models were replaced by younger and bustier ones. How else could Cary Grant, for all his greatness, be allowed to play a dashing romantic lead over the course of four decades? During the 1950s, female characters were predominantly sexpots (Marilyn Monroe) or innocents (Audrey Hepburn). What they had in common, though, was youth.<br /><br />So, where did middle-aged women fit into this new world order? This paper examines the plight of the middle-aged woman on film in the 1950s by analyzing five middle-aged roles by older actresses: Lana Turner as Connie MacKenzie in <em>Peyton Place</em> (1957), Katharine Hepburn as Jane Hudson in <em>Summertime</em> (1955), Jane Wyman as Cary Scott in <em>All That Heaven Allows</em> (1955), Bette Davis as Margo Channing in <em>All About Eve</em> (1950), and Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond in <em>Sunset Boulevard</em> (1950). They were positively over-the-hill by Hollywood standards, but these actresses were hardly old. They were mature and fabulous. When they played these roles, Turner was only 36, Hepburn was 48, Wyman was 41, Davis was 42, and Swanson was 53. The characters are widely varied, but they still have a lot in common, like fear and loneliness. They also shed much-needed light on the status of middle-aged women by reflecting and criticizing the youth-obsessed societies of the 1950s and today. The characters are distinct products of the 1950s, but the qualities and problems they represent for women are timeless. Careful examinations of the characters are combined with discussions of femininity, biographical information about the actresses, and social-historical research for contextualization. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">As a middle-aged woman and mother, Connie faces the harsh reality of what happens when her child grows up and needs her less. “Pregnancy – motherhood – could present itself as the answer to questions about one’s identity” (Harvey 96). Without that, many women in the 1950s felt helpless or worthless, and today’s society still assumes motherhood is the final destination for most women. When Connie’s overprotectiveness pushes Allison away, it makes her realize how empty her life is outside of her daughter. In a dynamic scene in Connie’s kitchen at night, Michael prods her and tries to make her accept her innate sexuality. Connie backs up against the kitchen sink, her posture defensive and accusatory. He fires, “It isn’t sex you’re afraid of. You can say yes or no to that. It’s love. That’s what you can’t handle.” Connie retorts, her voice growing more strained and angry, pushing his arms away from her violently, “And that’s what you’re offering me, with your hands all over me?” As the scene concludes, Connie answers Michael’s declaration of love by meeting his gaze and stating defiantly, “I have my standards…and my pride.” For her at this point, respectability means more than happiness.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the beginning of <em>Summertime</em>, Jane Hudson arrives alone in Venice full of excitement. She is feisty and independent, much like the actress playing her. Jane jokes around constantly in an attempt to conceal her loneliness. After relating the story of a woman she met on the boat on her way to Europe, the woman in charge of her hotel, Signora Fiorini (Isa Miranda), questions the woman’s motives. Jane thoughtfully replies, “Beats me. I guess to find what she’d been missing all her life.” Hepburn reveals Jane’s deep longing for purpose and meaning by delicately trailing off, pausing, and looking away wistfully before recovering with a quip. Jane consciously refers to her age: “Nobody’s older than me.” Signora Fiorini assures her, “I am, and in Italy, age is an asset.” Jane rolls her eyes and laughs self-deprecatingly, countering, “Well, if it is, I’m loaded.” She pretends to be comfortable with her age and her lack of a relationship, but she obviously suffers from society’s neglect. “Older women’s main problem may be one of invisibility” (Canetto 197). As Jane sadly drifts around Venice alone, this seems to be the case.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Once she vows to enjoy her time with Renato, Jane appears calm, content, and almost giddy, which Hepburn communicates as adeptly as previous scenes of tortured melancholy. Finally, she decides she must leave Venice. She becomes choked up as she utters, with a pained smile, “It’s the happiest time I’ve had in my whole life.” Jane understands the implausibility of their situation and matures by accepting reality. She somberly sums up, wiping away furtive tears, “You know, all my life, I’ve stayed at parties too long because I didn’t know when to go. Now, with you, I’ve grown up. I think I do know when to.” Andrew Britton, in <em>Katharine Hepburn: Star as Feminist</em>, offers a bleak interpretation of the film: “<em>Summertime</em> asserts not only that the heroine’s life is worthless without men, but also that, through some subtle flaw of her own (the flaw involved, presumably, in having become a middle-aged spinster), a life with men is impossible anyway” (220). While the film certainly reflects a distinctly 1950s view of women needing male validation, the final shot of Jane on the train leaving Venice shows a wiser, more confident, and more liberated woman. Hepburn’s face, a mixture of pride, sadness, and contentment, encapsulates Jane’s journey as an older woman.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Immediately following the devastating and despicable reactions of her children, Cary and Ron attend a disastrous cocktail party. People nastily whisper about the age difference, but Jo-Ann (Leigh Snowden) actually says something to her face: “Course I guess it is more unusual when someone your age gets married.” Wyman makes Cary incredibly sympathetic, and Cary is such a kind, sweet, tolerant person that it seems inconceivable that anyone would be so vicious to her. She gets carried away by a society that expects too much of her. She gives up Ron, and her reward is Sara’s reassurance that “everyone will welcome you back to the fold.” After Ron gets seriously injured, she finally commits to him. She shamefully admits, “I feel like such a coward. I was so frightened I listened to other people. I let others make my decisions.” The two tenderly reunite at the end. But whether or not this is a happy ending is debatable. She is living with Ron on his terms. And the constant framing and reflection of Cary throughout the film, trapped in windows, the television set, and the piano, represents her prison. Cary crouches next to Ron at the end against the backdrop of a huge window, perhaps just a new prison, reiterated by the image of the innocent and unsuspecting deer romping in the snow outside. Regardless, Cary evolves as a person throughout the film and boldly accepts her status as a middle-aged woman. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In the history of film, there are few performances as iconic as Bette Davis in <em>All About Eve</em>. As Margo Channing, Davis totally commands the screen. When the film was released in 1950, Davis was 42 and kicking. Margo is a temperamental diva, not unlike Davis, who is very worried about growing older. Certainly, Davis could relate to that concern. Rather than making Margo a caricature, Davis infuses her with humanity by drawing on personal experiences. “Davis brought to the role of Margo Channing all her seasoned discipline and charisma, as well as the wisdom she had accumulated about matters of the heart. Like Margo, Davis had had her full share of disillusionment, in love, in career, with people, and with life in general” (Quirk, <em>Fasten</em> 333). As Davis grew older, she adapted and embraced the role of middle-aged woman, which is why she maintained such a long career when so many others failed.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">As Eve entrenches herself in Margo’s life, Margo grows increasingly suspicious, which turns into uncontrollable jealousy when it comes to Bill. Margo fears that Bill will leave her for Eve because she is younger. When Bill compliments Eve, Margo launches a tantrum, “So you’ve pointed out so often. So many qualities so often – her loyalty, efficiency, devotion, warmth, and affection, and so young. So young and so fair.” Davis plays this scene brilliantly, seething as Bill attacks her, tapping her fingers on the table and finally eats a piece of candy that she had been eyeing, chewing it violently. Bill furiously insists, “Eve Harrington has never by word, look, thought, or suggestion indicated anything to me but her adoration for you and her happiness at our being in love, and to intimate anything else doesn’t spell jealousy to me, it spells a paranoiac insecurity that you should be ashamed of.” With these last words, Margo widens her eyes and flinches as if he had slapped her. Basically, when a woman gets jealous, a man unfairly questions her sanity. At the party, Margo confesses her true age, 40, to Lloyd (Hugh Marlowe). She believes her life and career are over.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In one of the film’s most poignant scenes, and an example of Davis’ genius, Margo confides in Karen (Celeste Holm). She apologizes for treating everyone so horribly and explains why she acts up: “Funny business, a woman’s career. The things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster, you forget you’ll need them again when you get back to being a woman.” She does not know who she is without her star persona, and she believes she has lost her femininity. She has everything, but she is unhappy and lonely. Finally, in a truly grim and sexist assessment, indicative of the 1950s, she concludes, “And in the last analysis, nothing’s any good unless you can…look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you’re not a woman.” Davis’ heartbreaking monologue almost makes the viewer overlook that disturbing statement, but not quite. At the end, Margo accepts her age by refusing to play parts that are too young. Margo and Bill also decide to get married, and they still have their friends, Karen and Lloyd, even after all the damage Eve did. In one of the greatest exit lines ever, Margo coldly spits at Eve, “Nice speech, Eve. But I wouldn’t worry too much about your heart. You can always put that award where your heart ought to be.” Margo gets the last word, a happy ending, and a newfound acceptance and appreciation of her age.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">If Bette Davis as Margo Channing is one of the most indelible performances in the history of cinema, then certainly Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond in <em>Sunset Boulevard</em> ranks right up there with it. At the time of the film’s release in 1950, Swanson was 53, by far the oldest actress of the group, and her performance is arguably the most risky and courageous, not just because of the sheer enormity of the character, but because of the striking parallels to her own life. Like Norma, Swanson was an aging star from the silent era, in many ways forgotten until her triumphant comeback in this film. However, unlike Norma, her decision to leave the business was a choice. “Never at home in Hollywood, Swanson stuck around as long as she could stand it, then moved east. Not because she couldn’t make the changeover – she quickly starred in half a dozen talkies – but rather because she didn’t much like the parts offered her” (Staggs 49). Swanson did not fear her age at all, but she worried about the resemblance to her own life, stating “that I would have to use all my past experience for props, and that this picture should be a very revealing one to make, something akin to analysis” (Swanson 481). Certainly, Swanson’s fearless performance as Norma paved the way for older actresses and women to express themselves comfortably without reservation.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">For Norma, age, or what she perceives age to be, is everything. She lives in the past; the past is her present. She wants to always be young. Joe tries to tell Norma the truth about her life, “Norma, you’re a woman of 50, now grow up. There’s nothing tragic about being 50, not unless you try to be 25.” After Norma kills Joe, she remains oblivious, leaning up against a column, hand to her forehead, posing. She whispers madly, “The stars are ageless, aren’t they?” Norma is the victim of a youth-obsessed society, a society that still exists. She fails to meet society’s expectations. In a tragic and unforgettable final scene, her loyal servant Max (Erich von Stroheim) convinces her that the media covering the murder is really a film crew there for her big scene. As Joe’s voiceover concludes, “The dream she had clung to so desperately had enfolded her.” She descends the staircase and delivers a final, chilling line, “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.” Norma Desmond is gone forever, but she is where she wants to be, on the screen in her mind. Tragically, she does not receive the happy ending afforded the other four characters, and she represents the dark side of the middle-aged woman.<br /><br/></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">All in all, Constance MacKenzie, Jane Hudson, Cary Scott, Margo Channing, and Norma Desmond symbolize various incarnations of the middle-aged woman. Older women tend to get overlooked in society for younger and more vibrant models. These characters all spoke to the women in the 1950s, and they still provide astute viewers today with the guidelines for self-examination. More than that, they indicate the flaws still present in today’s society regarding the treatment of women. While they appear wildly different at first glance, these five characters all learn valuable lessons about love and relationships, and most of them triumph. They are connected by desperation, oppression (both external and self-inflicted), fear, insecurity and, most of all, loneliness. Even though they are all middle-aged women, those are feelings that everyone has experienced, and they have nothing to do with age.</span><br /></span></p>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-50584566835309770892008-03-10T02:50:00.003-05:002008-03-10T03:49:47.920-05:00Society, Sex, and "The Long, Hot Summer"<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Released in 1958 and directed by Martin <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ritt</span>, <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em> is a heaving melodrama starring Paul Newman, Joanne Woodward, and Orson Welles as members of a Southern town smothered by the oppression of society and smoldering with either untapped or unbridled sexuality. The best melodramas utilize a loud, overt text to cover up a rich, subversive subtext (they can get away with a lot more than other genres in this way), and <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em> is a brilliant example because of the way it scathingly criticizes 1950s American society. The film explicitly deals with issues of conformity, consumerism, marriage, imposed domesticity, and stifled sexuality that were rampant in the 1950s by focusing on one obscenely rich family and their exploits in a small Southern town. Historical information about the 1950s provides a foundation for a detailed discussion of the film and how it coincides with the decade’s ideals, and then dismisses them. One scene in particular between Clara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Varner</span> (Woodward) and her father (Welles) highlights the problems plaguing society, and the use of female archetypes emphasizes and attacks the sexual conflicts facing American women in the 1950s and the unreasonable expectations placed upon them by a patriarchal society.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the end of <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em>, patriarch Will <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Varner</span> joyfully proclaims to his soon-to-be wife, “I like life, Minnie. I like it so much, I might just live forever.” However, this cheerful attitude only appears after nearly two hours of serious family dysfunction and confusion. Released in 1958, the film’s chaotic journey to an ultimately peaceful and positive resolution indicates the social climate of America in the 1950s through its exploration of controversial and relevant issues. Emerging from World War II, Americans were far from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">naïve</span>, but the media persisted in promoting the illusion of innocence. The decade witnessed Cold War terror and the spread of a conformist ideology, rampant consumerism, an all-encompassing emphasis on marriage, domesticity, and family, and sexual repression, all themes addressed by <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em>. An important scene in which Will <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Varner</span> pressures his daughter Clara to get married directly deals with many of these topics. Furthermore, the film’s female archetypes explicitly articulate the conflicts and contradictions concerning sexuality that plagued American women in the 1950s. <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em> consciously reflects its distinct historical context, and it boldly confronts and criticizes American society in the 1950s, specifically through the scene between Will and Clara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Varner</span> discussing marriage and the use of female archetypes.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">With this scene, the filmmakers exposed the American preoccupation with appearances and conformity created by the Cold War. The only thing that matters to Will is having lots of male grandchildren to carry on the family name, and he does not care how he gets them, even if it means forcing Clara to marry someone she does not love. He seems possessed when he psychotically shouts, “<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Varners</span>! That’s what I want. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Varners</span>. And more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Varners</span>. And more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Varners</span> still. Enough <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Varners</span> to infest the countryside.” At this point, it is clear that Will values the idea of grandchildren more than the actual human beings, and he worries that not having any grandchildren will reflect poorly on him. Also, since society expects someone of Clara’s age and status to get married and have a family, Will preys on Clara’s insecurity at still being single. Like women in American society, Clara is expected to fall in line and assume her feminine duties. Will’s verbally abusive tirade emphasizes the ridiculous need of people in the 1950s to conform to unrealistic ideals, and his willingness to sacrifice love and decency to secure his reputation makes a powerful statement that appearances ultimately mean nothing.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">For the target female audience, the film offered two opposite examples of older women. Agnes Stewart’s mother is the only female character that acted as a cautionary statement. Extremely manipulative and possessive of her son, she represents everything a mother should not be by smothering Alan to the point of impotence. “She is hanging on to him, keeping him from a normal sex life and marriage so that he will remain the man in her own life” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Basinger</span> 40). For her, sex is immoral, and her obsession with Alan showed women that her ideas about sex were wrong. On the other hand, Minnie <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Littlejohn</span> deeply loves Will <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Varner</span>, and her devotion to such an obstinate man displays tremendous character. Also, she is open about her sexuality. When Will tries to reject marriage, she retorts, “Look, honey, it’s no good you trying to tell me you’re too old. I happen to be in a position to deny it.” Her sweet and cheerful disposition, as well as a comfort with her sexuality that directly contradicted the social norm, provided women in the 1950s with a positive role model and the reassurance that sex was a natural part of life.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Married to Clara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Varner</span>’s brother, Jody, Eula <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Varner</span> fills the stereotype of the beautiful and sexually charged woman. Jody wants sex from her all the time, and she obliges. The local boys holler at her all night, and she finds it amusing. Even though everything seems to point to her as a mindless, materialistic sex object, she reveals depth and emotion. She is sensitive to Jody’s depression about his relationship with his father, but she also takes charge of her own sexuality. Finally fed up with Jody’s demands, she tells him, “I sure do wish you’d find yourself some other form of recreation.” At the end, her marriage to Jody reaches a mature level with both of them as equal partners. She is similar to Minnie, because they “end up with what they want by being strong enough to redefine their sexual roles on their own terms” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Basinger</span> 40). The vivacious Eula <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Varner</span> showed the female audience of the 1950s that it was possible to embrace sexuality and make sex a healthy and enjoyable part of life and marriage.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Out of all the female archetypes in <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em>, Clara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Varner</span> is the most complex. While she displays certain stereotypical qualities, such as her identity as a virginal teacher, she breaks the stereotype by showing vulnerability. She is independent and defiant, but she also desperately wants a husband and family. When she meets Ben Quick, he challenges her attitudes about sex. Before he kisses her, he tempts her, “You please me, and I’ll please you.” She slaps him, but then quickly succumbs to his kiss. She is torn between what society expects of her and what she wants. She unconvincingly insists, “I am no trembling little rabbit full of smoldering, unsatisfied desires.” Clearly, she must become comfortable with herself before she can begin a loving and sexual relationship. The film’s ending, which finds Clara finally accepting herself and Ben, was shocking for the time. It boldly states that Clara “ought to free herself from repression and accept sex with a man openly and freely, for pleasure and not just for procreation or marital duty…” (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Basinger</span> 40). By presenting the audience with such a strong, intelligent, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">relatable</span> character in Clara and showing women their options, the filmmakers expressed their vehement opposition to the sexual repression of the 1950s.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, the filmmakers of <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em> subtly subverted the repressive social climate of the 1950s and proved that many layers existed beneath the surface. Yet despite the biting social commentary, the film ends very optimistically. Eula and Jody mature and understand each other on a deeper level, Will commits to Minnie and also accepts Jody and sees him as a man for the first time, and Clara embraces a healthy sexual relationship with Ben. At the end, all of the characters have transcended their flaws and vices. The film’s theme, celebrating sexual freedom, life, love, and family and denouncing wealth and conformity, definitively rejects the prevailing attitudes of the 1950s. Yet at the same time, it highlights the positive aspects of that society, such as the importance of family. For the audience watching it in the 1950s, <em>The Long, Hot Summer</em> provided insight into their society and even criticized it, but it also gave them a happy ending and hope for a better future.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-2428604217310367522008-03-10T02:18:00.003-05:002008-03-10T02:48:42.323-05:00Keaton and Lloyd: The Real Kings of Comedy<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During the silent era, three comedians reigned supreme: Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. While Charlie Chaplin has certainly come to be known as an American icon of comedy, and an undisputed genius at his craft, he was actually British. His omission in this paper is a deliberate choice, and not a slight on his talent. Instead, this paper focuses on Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, who represented distinctly American sensibilities in their films. They both engaged in high-risk comedy with extraordinary skill, but their backgrounds, comedic approaches, and personalities were miles apart. Some biographical information about the men is included to put their careers in context, and the climaxes of Keaton’s <em>Our Hospitality</em> (1923) and Lloyd’s <em>Safety Last!</em> (1923) are analyzed to compare and contrast these two great comedians and their respective styles.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Of the three great comedians of American film, Charlie Chaplin has never been ignored. It took a few decades after his peak years in the 1920s for people to rediscover Buster Keaton and truly appreciate him for his authorship. Known as “The Great Stone Face,” Keaton aptly lives up to this moniker in <em>Our Hospitality</em>, a rather brilliant and lovely film. The story riffs on the infamous Hatfield-McCoy feud, with Keaton playing Willie McKay, whose family has long been entangled in a feud with the Canfield’s. Apparently, “Buster changed the names to Canfield and McKay as a whimsical precaution in case there were any vengeful survivors of the original clans” (Dardis 97).<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">With a rope still tied around his body from the previous shenanigans, he floats along in the river, his head barely poking out above the surface. His love interest, Virginia Canfield (played by his real wife at the time, Natalie Talmadge), sits dejectedly on the shore and sees him go by at the same time the audience does. The sight of his stone face bobbing along is something to behold. In a rather progressive move for 1923, she gets into a boat in order to save him. For people who criticize the silent era for turning women into mere props for the men, look at this sequence. This delicate little flower does not hesitate for one second. She simply hops into a boat and follows her beloved. Chalk one up for feminism.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">With the handy rope, Keaton ties himself to a random log, spluttering some more from the water and its force, and then drifts away attached to the log, almost calmly in fact. His face truly is a masterpiece; he manages to look practically serene throughout this life-threatening ordeal, and it actually was life-threatening. Keaton and the log reach the end of their journey as the river drops off into a huge waterfall, Niagara-like in the context of the film, complete with deadly, jagged rocks at the bottom.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In one of the most breathtaking stunts in cinematic history, Keaton manages to hang on to the rope attached to the log and then swings himself broadly, Tarzan style, to catch her in mid-fall.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">For the final rescue of Virginia Canfield over the falls, that was not actually filmed on location, but in Hollywood, although it hardly matters. “The forgery goes unnoticed. To catch the floating girl (a dummy, of course) took flawless timing; twice Keaton missed and ended hanging inverted under the falls. He got so waterlogged a doctor had to drain his ears and nose. On the third try, Buster nailed the stunt” (McPherson 135). This sequence does not feel dated at all; in fact, “it is shining action. Few films can show a moment as thrilling, and it all but stands alone as one that was done without fakery by the star himself” (Blesh 230). His comedic technique is flawless. It is never that his face is totally emotionless; it is just that he manages to play everything, even the most ridiculous scenarios, completely straight and unflinching. Beneath the stone mask, the impenetrable bust of a clown, the viewer can see a multitude of emotions brewing to create a rich and complex performance. The Keaton recipe is equal parts poignant and hilarious.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">He was very private throughout his life and was often tormented. Even though he was exceptionally close with his family, his father physically abused him quite a bit in the act while he was young. He married Natalie Talmadge, but suffered from alcoholism and emotional dependency issues: “As an adult, Buster saw much of the world the way a child might; the direct unabashed vision of his best films is the vision of a marvelous child” (Dardis 63). But perhaps it is exactly his personal history and this childlike excitement for filmmaking that makes him such an extraordinary artist and a true auteur.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In comic technique, Harold Lloyd is practically the opposite of Buster Keaton, even though they both had a propensity for dangerous stunts. They were clearly adrenaline junkies. Actually, Lloyd is known as the “daredevil” comedian, which is certainly obvious from the climax of <em>Safety Last!</em>. Even if people are not familiar with Harold Lloyd, and tragically many people are not, since he is by far the most forgotten of these comedic giants, most people know the image of a bespectacled man hanging off a clock on the side of a skyscraper. In fact, it is one of the most iconic moments in film history. To briefly set it up, Lloyd plays the main character, an average Joe, who wants to make money in order to impress his girlfriend, so he arranges for a man to climb up the building of the store he works at in order to gain publicity for the company and thus extra money. When the climber shows up, he is being pursued by a cop, so he tells Lloyd to start out and then he will take over once he reaches the next floor. It is a genius concept.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Once on the ledge, he nervously turns to the raucous crowd and tips his hat quickly before resuming his horrified, shocked expression. Everything that can possibly go wrong does on his way up. Birds land on him, very Hitchcock-like, so he must fight them off. Someone drops a net out of a window on top of him. Painters thrust a wooden beam out of one of the windows. A man’s bulldog barks at him, and while hanging precariously, the snobby man chastises Lloyd because the dog might fall out. Murphy ’s Law has nothing on this sequence. Every floor, the climber tells him just to go up one more until he can shake the cop, which of course never happens. This just heightens (forgive the pun) the suspense. His love interest (played by his real wife Mildred Davis) arrives and watches the spectacle with terror. Every time he pauses, the crowd urges him on, and he twitches a smile at them and then gulps to try and brace himself. His constant back and forth with all of these emotions is really amazing to watch, and just so funny.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Once he finally seems safe on a window, the climber actually pushes the window up, which causes Lloyd to reach for the giant clock next to him. He does so and grabs the hand on the clock, dangling off of it, causing the face of the clock to pull free from the building.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">And cinematic history was made.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">“Compared to Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd has been treated shabbily by history” (Vance 10). Even though he is not credited as the director on his films like Chaplin and Keaton, he was very much involved with every step of the process. His films are truly his own. “Almost as deadly to his reputation has been the determined effort of well-meaning admirers to characterize him as “The King of Daredevil Comedy”…The label has fostered a largely distorted idea of Lloyd’s pictures – climbing stunts occur in only three of his eighteen features” (Dardis, Lloyd xix). Regardless, it is his glasses persona that he is most famous for: “With the Glass Character, Harold came back to his roots and found his soul. The genius of the character was not that it was extraordinary, but that it was so ordinary, so normal…In short, Harold found success by playing himself, and his optimism and relentless pursuit delighted audiences…” (Vance 29). Indeed, that is Harold Lloyd’s true appeal – his utter accessibility and boyish, good-natured charm.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Just because his life was not plagued by the sort of tragedy that most artists endure does not mean he knew any less about human emotion and connecting to an audience. Lloyd is the embodiment of the American Dream, and that is why he was so appealing back in his time, and why it is even more upsetting that he is not remembered like he should be today.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are two of the most influential American comics and artists of all time, and they proved it specifically with <em>Our Hospitality</em> and <em>Safety Last!</em>. Even though they both utilized different techniques, they are equally effective in their own ways. They came from totally different backgrounds, proving that anyone can make it if they try hard enough. But that does not give them enough credit; they made it because they are master craftsmen of comedy. “Perhaps the most disconcerting thing about Buster Keaton was the deadly seriousness with which he undertook the art of being funny. Unlike other famous comedians, Buster was convinced that humor is a very serious business. His work was always the greatest single passion of his life” (Dardis, Keaton xi). In the case of Harold Lloyd, he “relied on luck and hard work to become one of the greatest cinema artists of his era. Harold was a genius because he worked at it, and a success because he never gave up” (Vance 16). People will never stop watching their films, so even though they are gone, the laughter will never die.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-84023197039508077162008-03-09T07:50:00.011-05:002008-03-09T10:02:23.878-05:00Unconditional Love at First Sight: Katharine Hepburn and "Woman of the Year"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv4cg-g9yNjsZDUec-LFsQ29PQm_DwvtxQmcHVaRXsTdRrcwTaTgzXGTwk5vGEEnc8dAqNKa8ui5AXF4yyNZZXv8pT4qqqurYVkzwZgVo23JwV6XNl9nTKrbp2vEsSevJ-GqoUirL90Kv/s1600-h/tr_hep.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175732261409133586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv4cg-g9yNjsZDUec-LFsQ29PQm_DwvtxQmcHVaRXsTdRrcwTaTgzXGTwk5vGEEnc8dAqNKa8ui5AXF4yyNZZXv8pT4qqqurYVkzwZgVo23JwV6XNl9nTKrbp2vEsSevJ-GqoUirL90Kv/s320/tr_hep.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Released in 1942 and directed by George Stevens, <em>Woman of the Year</em> is the first on-screen pairing of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, and it initiated their off-screen relationship, as well. The film stars Hepburn as Tess Harding, a hard-hitting, successful, and masculine journalist. Spencer Tracy plays her love interest, Sam Craig. He is a sports journalist, but he has not achieved anywhere near her level of fame and acclaim, is rather a homebody, and is exceptionally feminine. <em>Woman of the Year</em> brilliantly flips and subverts gender roles. The character of Tess and Hepburn’s portrayal of her are examined extensively to substantiate the film’s worth and message. Tess and Sam get married, but she works constantly and is never home, causing their relationship to deteriorate. Tess must compromise to make the marriage work, but she never sacrifices her dignity to do it. It is a very empowering film, both in the context of 1940s American society and today, that also reflects aspects of Hepburn’s personal life as a strong and fiercely independent woman, as well as her relationship with Spencer Tracy.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When the boss finishes with them, Tess leaves the office first, but Sam eagerly chases after her. Aware of his presence behind her, Tess reaches in her pocket for a cigarette and looks up knowingly with a bemused expression. She stops on the staircase, and Sam runs right into her. He stutters like an inexperienced teenager, but her voice remains steady, almost mocking. Clearly, Tess is in control, perfectly articulated by Hepburn’s body language and speech. She ascends the stairs forcefully while he timidly walks backwards, like an animal advancing on its prey. When he invites her to a baseball game, she responds with a casual, yet drawn out, “Okay.” However, Hepburn raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes just enough to make her response sound charitable, like she is doing him a favor. Tess leaves Sam standing on the stairs reeling from this encounter. A goofy grin plastered across his face, Sam looks longingly after Tess and relishes his victory. However, this scene, depicting his infatuation and her coy indifference, indicates the reversal of gender roles, with Tess clearly emerging as masculine.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">As Sam grows increasingly dissatisfied with their marriage, Tess continues to make it worse. One morning, she surprises Sam in bed with breakfast, and he wonders what she wants. She mentions having children, and he absolutely lights up, typical of his feminine nature. It turns out, though, that Tess has brought home a Greek refugee named Chris. Just after this revelation, Tess learns that she has been named “America’s Outstanding Woman of the Year.” On the night of the banquet, Tess gets ready in front of a mirror. Sam lovingly rubs his face on her hair, carefully styled, and she cringes. She calls him “darling” in admonishment, and Hepburn’s voice and body language express Tess’s distance and annoyance. As Sam leaves the room, he asks, “They won’t ask me to make a speech, will they?” Tess callously replies, “I don’t see why.” However, she is too self-absorbed to recognize the cruelty of this remark. Displaying no maternal instincts whatsoever, Tess plans to leave Chris alone for the evening. So far, Tess has been extremely masculine. In this case, being masculine means placing career above family. This is a sad, yet true, interpretation. But, Tess soon undergoes a drastic change.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Desperate to fix their marriage, Tess drives to Sam’s home. She arrives early in the morning and decides to surprise him with breakfast, even though she has displayed no domestic inclinations thus far. In a masterful sequence completely dependent on Hepburn’s body language, expression, gestures, and comedic skill, Tess begins her daunting task. Determined and clueless, Tess fumbles with the stove and cannot figure out how to light it. She squares her shoulders when she reads the recipe for waffles, ready to tackle anything. Tess knocks things over and squirms when she makes too much noise. As Tess adds the baking powder to the mix, Hepburn pauses ever so slightly before dumping in the third capful, highlighting her uncertainty. Since the page of the cookbook flipped accidentally, Tess now reads the wrong recipe and adds yeast. Basically, nothing goes right, especially when she tries to separate the eggs. Hepburn expertly twists her body and jerks as the eggs slide away from her. At this point, she notices Sam watching her. Her eyes sparkling with tears and her voice breathy, Tess kneels before Sam, looking up at him in adoration. She boldly tells him, “I’m going to give up my job.” When he refuses to believe her, she asserts, “I’m going to be your wife.” Then she tries to prove it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Angry and frustrated, Tess returns to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. However, everything that can possibly go wrong does so. The toast pops out unexpectedly, the coffee boils over, and her disastrous waffle batter rises and bubbles. Out of the corner of her eye, Tess notices the waffle batter, and her eyes widen in horror. Hepburn races back and forth as Tess’s panic grows. Finally, she gives up, and Sam declares, “I don’t want to be married to Tess Harding any more than I want you to be just Mrs. Sam Craig. Why can’t you be Tess Harding-Craig?” Even though her voice is still shaky, Tess answers, “I think it’s a wonderful name.” Sam does not want her to abandon her career. Together, the couple has reached a compromise.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">For most of the film, Tess was portrayed as a strong and assertive career woman. After Sam leaves her, she realizes that she has made mistakes, and she wants to change, although it takes some time. She reevaluates her priorities and decides that having a successful career alone cannot sustain her. In order to make things right, she performs a moving gesture by making breakfast. Even though she fails, she still made the effort, and that counts for something. Some people dismiss this ending, saying that “<em>Woman of the Year</em> sees Tess as a disruptive element that needs to be brought into line” (Leaming 394). These same people feel that Tess ultimately becomes weak, when quite the opposite occurs. Tess becomes stronger as a result of her transformation. She sheds the selfishness that plagued her as a career-obsessed woman. Even though she tells Sam she will give up her career, she eventually sees the beauty in the idea of being Tess Harding-Craig and blending both parts of her life, professional and personal. Her emotional epiphany allows her to become a real person, as she never was before, even though her strength seemed inspiring on the surface. During the course of the film, Tess Harding evolves from a powerful, masculine career woman into a stronger and more complete human being.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Like Tess, Hepburn also focused on her career almost exclusively for a long time, even sacrificing her personal relationships to further it. She married Ludlow Ogden Smith, but her career came first, just like Tess with Sam. “And Luddy – all he wanted was me, and of course all I wanted was to be a great big hit star in the movies” (Hepburn 152). Indeed, Hepburn longed for stardom and was determined to become a successful, respected actress. From her first stage and film roles, she immediately stood out. “The cut-through nasal voice, the proud posture, the self-possession, along with a ‘beguiling femininity,’ became Kate’s trademarks. She thought for herself” (Edwards 17). Even though she enjoyed tremendous success and an early Academy Award, audiences and executives proved to be fickle, and “the Independent Theatre Owners Association published the names of performers who were ‘box office poison.’ Kate’s name led the list…” (Edwards 163). As she often did, Hepburn took control of her own destiny and carefully selected projects to elevate her status. She even displayed business savvy in purchasing the rights to some highly coveted films, which allowed her to negotiate her own terms and have more control over the films. “Kate had spent a year on Broadway in <em>The Philadelphia Story</em>…Her shrewd decision to tie up the motion-picture rights (actually Howard Hughes’s idea) and her dealings with Louis B. Mayer were already legend” (Leaming 385). She proved that a woman could succeed in a man’s world, just like Tess Harding, and she never gave up.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When it comes to Katharine Hepburn, her twenty-five year devotion to Spencer Tracy remains one of the most intriguing and perplexing aspects of her life. They met when they worked together for the first time in <em>Woman of the Year</em>, and sparks flew instantly. That kind of intense chemistry could not be manufactured, and the film reflects their obvious mutual attraction. Tracy remained married to his wife up until the day he died, but she did not interfere with their relationship. In order to respect his wife, the affair was kept quiet, which benefited Hepburn and Tracy. They were able to focus entirely on themselves and live in their own world. “When Tracy met Kate, he seemed to sense her readiness to focus on him and his problems to the exclusion of all else” (Leaming 396). Many critics question her unwavering devotion to a man seemingly so unworthy of her. He drank heavily, criticized her, and despised the qualities that made her unique. “John Ford, in love with Kate, wouldn’t have changed a single thing about her; as far as Spencer Tracy was concerned, she could do nothing right...According to Tracy, she talked too loudly, too quickly, and too much” (Leaming 401). But no matter what, Hepburn supported Tracy.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In addition to taking care of him, Hepburn also sacrificed her own life and career for him. All that mattered was making Tracy happy, which seemed to conflict with her personality. “To watch them together was to wonder why this fierce, independent woman had so totally subordinated herself to Tracy’s will” (Leaming 400). In <em>Woman of the Year</em>, Tess Harding echoes Hepburn’s own fierce independence, but in the end, she figures out what real love involves. For Tess, love means combining her career and marriage into one harmonious whole. Unlike Tess, however, Hepburn’s definition of love went far beyond that. “It really implies total devotion. And total is all-encompassing – the good of you, the bad of you” (Hepburn 389). For her, love meant everything, and it made her happy to take care of Tracy and attend to his needs. “It seems to me I discovered what ‘I love you’ really means. It means I put you and your interests and your comfort ahead of my own interests and my own comfort because I love you” (Hepburn 389). Her love for Tracy did not make her weak, just like compromising does not make Tess Harding weak. In fact, Hepburn emerges as even more admirable because of it. “As with her father in the aftermath of Tom’s suicide, Kate may have seemed the weaker partner; yet her decision to care for Tracy attested to great inner strength…Spencer was weak, Kate was strong; she would try to protect him at whatever cost to herself” (Leaming 403). Indeed, Hepburn remained Tracy’s rock until the day he died, and she never regretted it for one minute.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-90908475233552567102008-03-09T06:58:00.011-05:002008-03-09T07:48:53.068-05:00"How to Marry a Millionaire" and Lose Your Self-Respect<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_RqXP-tpKJBGqlNZ9h95YG_37qGAty9A9CTw926kSL1C_lZCZ6Ma6Zi1W-ueAJo6NHdQ_E-zovYiiDeJq9C6-9UlHXRkATNdDHRRrDvFhUFzntaVnIs9XPfejTnyLI-pURz5TlhlwAeUG/s1600-h/3.bmp"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175713458042311682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_RqXP-tpKJBGqlNZ9h95YG_37qGAty9A9CTw926kSL1C_lZCZ6Ma6Zi1W-ueAJo6NHdQ_E-zovYiiDeJq9C6-9UlHXRkATNdDHRRrDvFhUFzntaVnIs9XPfejTnyLI-pURz5TlhlwAeUG/s320/3.bmp" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Directed by Jean Negulesco and released in 1953, <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> stars Betty Grable, Marilyn Monroe, and Lauren Bacall as shameless gold-diggers named Loco, Pola, and Schatze, respectively. Even though they have no money, a really fuzzy plot inexplicably places the girls in a rented apartment the size of Rhode Island so that they can execute a nonsensical plan of pretending to be wealthy in order to snare millionaires. All these women care about is money and manipulating men. To be fair, they also do some modeling, but it figures that their only occupational choice is one that allows men to gawk at them in all their Cinemascopic glory. Basically, they’re really expensively packaged prostitutes.<br /><br />This film is a depressing reflection of oppressive, anti-feminist American society in the 1950s. During the 1950s, America was trying to reel the women back in after they had tasted short-lived success in the workplace and independence while the men were off fighting in World War II. Marriage was considered a woman’s ultimate goal in life, and the characters in the film obviously believe and endorse it. They’re just more superficial and want to cook, clean, and have babies for millionaire husbands. Good performances by the female leads cannot save this misogynistic mess. <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> celebrates everything that was wrong with America in the 1950s, and the three main characters emerge as nothing more than stereotypes who perpetuated the national repression of women.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175712912581465074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFLNXfjekEsDGMXqIDaXlihyphenhyphenH0c5dKi3T_4m0jUq_oqIP4iMusDydMIlCokCAIxIC1_BvQjoWQbOicjFxEho_jaC9JfmMqJZtidAwfkCYAm8Fz9IOMLj8TdN_F9E04qNvuZ52h_I2h44N/s320/1.bmp" border="0" /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span> <p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Near the beginning of <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em>, Loco Dempsey expresses surprise at Schatze Page’s willingness to give marriage another try after hearing Schatze describe her first failed marriage. Schatze replies, in a tone simultaneously dejected and longing, “Of course I want to get married again. Who doesn’t? It’s the biggest thing you can do in life.” While this sentiment may seem absurd to people living in a post-feminist society overshadowed by political correctness, it was pretty much standard text for the 1950s. Following an unprecedented era of independence for American women during World War II, the 1950s witnessed a desperate national search for stability, manifested in an explosion of prosperity and consumerism and an obsession with conformity and domesticity. During this time, women were not-so-subtly encouraged to resume their “traditional” roles of homemaker, wife, and mother, and new standards of femininity emerged. Released in 1953, <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> glaringly refers to these issues, specifically through the three main characters of Loco Dempsey, Pola Debevoise, and Schatze Page, gold diggers united by a common goal. They set up an elaborate operation to catch rich men and, in the process, embrace everything that was wrong with the 1950s, including blatant sexism, superficiality, and an emphasis on marriage as the ultimate goal of a woman’s existence. While the characters of Loco, Pola, and Schatze in <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> display moderate strength and individuality, they remain distinct products of the 1950s and ultimately embody various aspects of femininity through a blatant use of stereotypes, expose the decade’s disturbing obsession with consumerism, appearances, and marriage, and fulfill social expectations at the expense of their identities.<br /><br /></p></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Among the three principal female characters, Loco Dempsey, portrayed with spunky enthusiasm by Betty Grable, is by far the most down-to-earth and relatable. She is blunt and constantly inhales food. In fact, while the other two women dream of men and jewelry, she dreams about a hot sandwich, beer, and peanut butter. Her ability to meet countless men, even though they are the wrong men financially, proves that she has experience. Loco first appears at the women’s apartment followed by a man, Tom Brookman, bearing groceries. She gets her food by lingering around stores until she manipulates some man into buying everything by pretending she forgot her money, and she is unashamed of her resourcefulness. While the three women sit outside on the balcony and discuss the plan to find and marry a rich man and split the profits, Loco dreamily muses, “All my life, ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had the same dream – to marry a zillionaire.” This statement incorporates two very distinctly 1950s preoccupations – marriage and wealth. “The 1950s were an affluent era, when upward mobility seemed within reach; a consumerist era, when the market was flooded with goods and services; a conservative era, when voices of protest were muted or silent; and a period of consensus, when goals and aspirations were widely shared” (Woloch 495). Even though Loco aims higher in terms of money, she clearly believes that marriage and money equal happiness, a viewpoint definitely shared by the majority of the audience at the time.<br /></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In contrast to Loco’s sarcastic simplicity, Pola Debevoise approaches love with starry-eyed idealism. She is the ultimate romantic and the very definition of femininity. While Loco is certainly beautiful and uses her feminine wiles to her advantage, she eats too much and speaks too frankly to represent true feminine beauty as delineated by the 1950s. It is no surprise that Pola is portrayed by Marilyn Monroe, in a brilliantly funny and physical performance, the most feminine of all women in the decade. Pola wears glasses, and even though she needs them desperately, she only wears them when there are no men around. “In the era after World War II, American women embraced discomfort in a big way” (Collins 397). They wore ridiculous bras and uncomfortable clothes in order to highlight their feminine attributes and present themselves as valuable commodities so that eligible men would propose to them. This emphasis on packaging and the importance of external appearances certainly relates to Pola’s insecurity about her glasses. In fact, she recites matter-of-factly, “Men aren’t attentive to girls who wear glasses.” Sadly, this preoccupation with a woman’s looks lingers today. In fact, it may be even worse with the media saturated by unrealistic images of thin, youthful, and “perfect” women and the growing numbers of eating disorders.<br /><br /></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">On her way to marry Mr. Merrill, Pola boards the wrong plane as a result of her blindness. As luck would have it, the same man she unknowingly caught snooping in the apartment, the man who actually owns the apartment, sits next to her. Even though she is on her way to marry another man, her predatory instincts kick in, and she flirts with Freddie. After he catches her reading her book upside down, he confronts her about her glasses. He convinces her to put them on, even prefacing it by telling her he already thinks she is a “strudel,” and after much protesting, she finally does. She worries that she looks like an old maid, and he replies, “I’ve never seen anybody in my whole life that reminded me less of an old maid.” This placates her, and even though this man is painfully average-looking, she nuzzles up to him and swoons, “Tell me anything.” Pola finally accepts her glasses, but only because a man demands it. She needs a man’s approval and validation to make her happy and complete. “The image of single women as incomplete and deficient human beings was everywhere in the culture” (Harvey 86). His trouble with the law appeals to her sense of adventure and romance, and she gains a man and some self-confidence in the end. “Although Pola’s happy ending in <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> includes getting to keep her glasses on, our cultural memory of that movie mostly forces her to keep them off” (Barton 138). As it turns out, Freddie even potentially has some money or, as Pola puts it in a delicious double entendre, “He’d be holding if he could get his hands on it.”<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Without a doubt, Schatze Page is the least feminine of the three main characters. She is divorced, icy, assertive, and calculating, and she lies and manipulates to gets her way. The key characteristic is “divorced,” which makes her a bitter woman with a grudge. At the time, “experts supported traditional roles, where passivity, dependence, and noncompetitiveness were expected. Their warnings, moreover, echoed through the 1950s, positing two alternatives: femininity or disaster. ‘Psychiatrists who studied the causes of our disturbing divorce rate,’ according to <em>Life</em> in 1956, ‘note wives who are not feminine enough’” (Woloch 499). Certainly, this divorced woman possessing a hard and cynical outlook was no accident. Perhaps Schatze was a lesson to women of the 1950s – lose your femininity and lose your humanity. Schatze formulates the plan to capture and marry wealthy men, and she follows the plan with snobbish exactitude. She grimly professes, “It’s your head you’ve got to use, not your heart.” To this end, she fawns all over J.D. Hanley, a sweet man old enough to be her father, who is completely aware of her selfish intentions but too lonely to care. She is physically attracted to Tom Brookman, the man Loco brings home, but she dismisses him immediately, with extreme prejudice, because she assumes he works as a gas pump jockey. If he does not have money, he is not worth her time.<br /><br /></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Ironically, Tom Brookman is one of the wealthiest men in the world, but Schatze never suspects it for one second. This is one of the story’s biggest flaws. Obviously, Schatze plans everything very carefully, and such a ruthless gold digger would have done her research. He must be one of the most eligible bachelors around. It seems totally unfeasible that none of the women, especially Schatze, knows his identity.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When J.D. asks about the man he knows she loves, she responds hopelessly, “He’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.” What a harsh, cruel assessment of love. She marries Tom, and at the end, the three couples joke around at a diner. When Schatze asks him to determine his worth, he replies, “Oh, about 200 million, I should imagine.” The joking continues until he pulls out an impractically enormous wad of cash, and the three women faint to the floor. Schatze gets her way, even though she does not deserve it. She is a miserable, pathetic, shallow person during the entire film, and she ends up with love <strong>and</strong> money. Why Tom would even want her when she treats him so terribly, acts like such a stuck-up, superficial snob, and cares so much about money is the biggest mystery of all.<br /><br /></p></span><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">As far as their relationships with each other, these women appear to be friends, but they are only acquaintances. They inhabit the same space and share a goal, but they never really confide in each other. Loco and Pola disappear for huge chunks of time without even telling Schatze. They show up at her wedding, and she only wants to gloat. She does not care about them or what they have been doing, and Loco even fears her reaction to her marriage. Schatze unconvincingly congratulates them on their happiness, with more venom in her voice than kindness. If this film celebrated female friendship and bonding, then it might relieve some of the negative sexist overtones, but it fails in that aspect, as well.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">A</span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">ll in all, <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> paints a vivid picture, in dazzling Technicolor, of social attitudes toward women in the 1950s and encourages a closer inspection of today’s world. This film masquerades as a playful romp, but its danger lies in that very lightheartedness, implying through comedy that its subject matter is not real or serious. On the contrary, its grave message still reverberates loudly today, and while sadly accepted at the time, its depiction of feminine limitations and stifling female stereotypes is no less upsetting. Loco, Pola, and Schatze possess the ability to transcend their social expectations, but the filmmakers did not believe in them, and society would have not allowed it anyway. Likewise, <em>How to Marry a Millionaire</em> has the potential to say something valid and meaningful, but it ultimately condones the attitudes toward women during the 1950s, proving it is just as superficial as its characters.</span> </p>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-19780708173531377282008-02-16T04:26:00.003-06:002008-02-16T04:36:56.843-06:00"Psycho" Babble<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"><em>Psycho</em> is an undisputed masterpiece, and arguably Alfred Hitchcock’s finest one at that. Its esteemed place in Hitchcock’s impressive oeuvre is due to its unprecedented subject matter, revolutionary technical achievements, and the deepest examination of his common themes, such as identity, guilt versus innocence, bondage versus freedom, and psychology. <em>Psycho</em> is so unparalleled because of the extraordinary way Hitchcock utilized every technical and stylistic tool at his disposal to explore these issues, thus providing startling insight into the human psyche. Hitchcock tackles the dark side of human nature in <em>Psycho</em> through the characterization of Norman Bates and Marion Crane, his unique visual style, and the use of mise-en-scène. This paper examines these three crucial aspects of <em>Psycho</em>’s successful execution while also discussing the emergence of Hitchcock’s distinct themes in these areas and throughout the entire film.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Since the audience is completely devoted to Marion, the fact that her murder occurs just after she decides to repent makes it even more disorienting. After Marion’s brutal death, the viewer desperately clings to Norman as the new hero. Actually, the transition to Norman as the protagonist is an easy one, because he is an immediately likeable, sympathetic character. When he greets Marion at the motel, he exudes a childlike innocence, which is reiterated later by his compulsive eating of candy corn. He is shy, nervous, and a bit awkward, but he is gentle and endearing, especially when he mentions the Bates Motel stationary to Marion, “in case you want to make your friends back home feel envious.” This first impression gives no indication of the madness lurking inside of him, making this the ultimate case of the distrust of appearances.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Soon after this initial meeting, an argument with his oppressive mother explains Norman’s twitchiness. Norman is very lonely, made painfully clear by his remark, “A boy’s best friend is his mother.” Norman also discusses the theme of bondage, “I think that we’re all in our private traps...” Marion suggests putting his mother in an institution, and Norman snaps. He angrily denounces the cruelty of the institutions, reverting to a trancelike state, but he calms down, uttering the film’s most famous lines, “We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?” After Mother apparently kills Marion, Norman is horrified by what he sees in the bathroom. But, like a devoted son, he cleans up his mother’s mess, marking the most important transfer of guilt in the film. This transfer of guilt intensifies as Norman continues to conceal Marion’s death, as well as Arbogast’s. He assumes his mother’s guilt by covering the crimes up. As he watches Marion’s car sink in the swamp, he panics when it stops, causing the viewer to panic. When it sinks, the audience morbidly shares his relief.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When making his films, Hitchcock fully grasped the powerful impact of a close-up at just the right moment in the story. After Marion takes the $40,000 home with her, a close-up shows the envelope of money resting tantalizingly on her bed. This shot represents Marion’s confusion of identity and the temptation of evil. In an extreme close-up, Norman’s eye watches Marion undress through a peephole in the wall. This violation of her privacy raises questions about Norman’s trustworthiness. The shower scene consists of a series of extreme close-ups depicting Marion’s victimization, including her bare stomach, the knife, her mouth screaming, and her hand clutching at the shower wall as she dies. These close-ups, like the one of Norman’s eye, force the viewer to be a part of the action, allowing no room for escape or solace. An extreme close-up of Marion’s lifeless eye is the most upsetting in the film, reminding the audience that Marion will never gain the freedom she deserves. Near the end of the film, a close-up of Mother’s ghastly, shriveled head with hollow eyes brings the audience face-to-face, literally, with evil and insanity. These close-ups emphasize the film’s dark and sinister mood.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Like other Hitchcock films, staircases play an important role in <em>Psycho</em> by standing for mystery and danger. The stairs between the motel and the house symbolize a path between the normal and the insane. Actually, the motel only appears normal, so maybe the stairs represent travel between different levels of insanity, specifically in Norman’s own mind. In the house, the only normal place is the main level, but even a murder takes place there. Nothing good comes of going up or down stairs; in <em>Psycho</em>, stairs lead to madness. When Norman goes up to the house or upstairs to his mother’s room, it reinforces his bondage. Not quite as prominent as the staircases, Marion’s car still serves a dramatic function. Originally a symbol of freedom, Marion’s car changes into a symbol of confinement. She uses the car to escape her ordinary life and seek something better and more exciting, so of course this sin of curiosity must be punished. However, the car becomes her coffin, the ultimate trap.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Even before <em>The Birds</em>, <em>Psycho</em> displays Hitchcock’s fascination with the feathered creatures. Stuffed birds watch over Norman’s parlor, hovering menacingly despite Norman’s description of birds as “passive,” and pictures of birds line the walls of Marion’s room. In a way, birds represent the freedom so elusive to Norman and even Marion. But the stuffed birds look dangerous and keep a watchful, oppressive eye on Norman, signifying his complete helplessness. Most significantly, the extensive use of mirrors symbolizes the duality of human nature. The first mirror appears in Marion’s home after she takes the money, which indicates that she is split in two between her good and evil sides. Mirrors represent inner conflict and the struggle between good and evil, but they also serve as reminders of guilt, like when Marion’s image is reflected in various mirrors or when Norman checks the cabinet in the bathroom after cleaning up his mother’s crime. A mirror also suggests illusion and the idea that appearances cannot be trusted, such as Norman’s reflection in the window (a mirror substitute) outside the motel when he brings Marion her dinner. Certainly, Marion and Norman are not who they appear to be. For Norman, mirrors reflect his individual psychology. Since he suffers from split personalities, the mirror refers explicitly to his two halves. Due to the powerful combination of the use of costumes, settings, and props as meaningful imagery, Hitchcock’s camera style, and characterization, <em>Psycho</em> presents an unparalleled examination of the human mind.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-54690404094534446452008-02-13T04:35:00.002-06:002008-02-13T05:02:27.837-06:00Deconstructing the Hitchcock Blonde<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Alfred Hitchcock is famous for, among many other things, his propensity for utilizing blondes in his films. These women have earned the distinction of being called the “Hitchcock blonde.” Ingrid Bergman, Grace Kelly, and Tippi Hedren span three decades of blonde-ness, proving to be arguably the most memorable blondes, as well as some of his most frequent collaborators. Interestingly, all three actresses starred in back-to-back films in their respective decades – Ingrid Bergman in <em>Spellbound</em> (1945) and <em>Notorious</em> (1946), Grace Kelly in <em>Dial M for Murder</em> (1954) and <em>To Catch a Thief</em> (1955), and Tippi Hedren in <em>The Birds</em> (1963) and <em>Marnie</em> (1964). The close proximity of their roles provides ample opportunity for careful comparison and also to appreciate the diversity of the actresses and the characters. The Hitchcock blonde is not just a pretty face; she is a real tough cookie and encompasses a broad range of traits. The paper looks at all six characters, compares and contrasts them, briefly summarizes the biographical relationships of the actresses to Hitchcock, and makes broader connections between the characters and their social-historical contexts, especially concerning women’s roles in society.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">After <em>Spellbound</em>, Bergman jumped at the chance to work with Hitchcock again in <em>Notorious</em>. She delivers a complex performance as Alicia Huberman, the daughter of a Nazi. Alicia displays reckless behavior obviously caused by deep emotional pain. She drinks excessively, and her relationship with Devlin (Cary Grant), an intelligence agent, is volatile from the start. They fall deeply in love, but their love is strained by her secret mission to infiltrate a gang of Nazis. This involves Alicia using sex to get close to Alexander Sebastian (Claude Rains), and Devlin manifests his jealousy by acting aloof and cruel toward Alicia. Alicia approaches her assignment with forlorn resolve, almost like could not care less what happens to her. She eventually marries Alex, and she performs her job brilliantly. When Alex learns Alicia’s true identity, he and his mother (Madame Leopoldine Konstantin) begin poisoning her. Eventually, Devlin comes to save her, and he finally admits his love. At last, Alicia is safe and happy in Devlin’s arms. Over and over, Devlin and his colleagues make references to Alicia’s bad reputation, including her alcoholism and promiscuity, but she overcomes this reputation by displaying tremendous bravery in fulfilling this dangerous assignment. By risking her life for her country, Alicia Huberman shows that being a Hitchcock blonde involves depth and courage.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During World War II, American women achieved a new independence by virtually taking over the workforce. “The war overturned attitudes about working women and altered women’s place in the labor force more radically than any other event in the twentieth century” (Hymowitz 311). Since men were fighting overseas, women had to assume their jobs. Amazingly, “six million women took paying jobs during the war” (Hymowitz 312). However, just as quickly as this explosion occurred, it ended. <em>Spellbound</em> and <em>Notorious</em> perfectly coincide with the end of the war and communicate its dramatic effects on American women. Released in 1945, the same year the war ended, <em>Spellbound</em> emphasizes the working woman. Constance Petersen is the only career woman with a serious job of the six characters to be examined. Despite the men around her trying to diminish her power by referring to her femininity in a negative way, Constance perseveres and thrives. She represents the epitome of the wartime woman with her fierce determination.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Released in 1946, <em>Notorious</em> presents a startling contrast to <em>Spellbound</em>. “When the war ended, the nation welcomed the men home and began enforcing the promise the women workers had made – or the country had decided they had made – to give up their jobs for the returning soldiers” (Collins 394). Whether it occurred involuntarily or not, Alicia Huberman represents this slap in the face to all women of forcing them back into the home. Even though Alicia is brave and independent, the men belittle her, use her as a prostitute, and basically call her a drunk and a slut. Only a year before, Bergman played a promising psychoanalyst, but Alicia acts as a reminder of men’s insecurities upon returning home and seeing women doing their jobs just as well or even better. In its social context, Alicia seems like a warning to women to resume their proper duties, like a symbolic slap on the wrist. “Once the war was over, the woman worker was no longer a symbol of patriotic ardor but rather a threat to social and economic security” (Woloch 469). Like all threats, they had to be neutralized immediately. <em>Spellbound</em> and <em>Notorious</em> quite accurately resemble these turbulent times for women in American society.<br /> <br />During the 1950s, American women continued to work, but it lacked the excitement and meaning of the war years. “Within a few years of the end of hostilities in 1945, employment of women was just about back to its wartime peak, and still climbing. However, the jobs they were holding down were not, for the most part, careers. Women were typists and sales clerks and telephone operators and receptionists…” (Collins 399). Mostly, women in the 1950s struggled against the confines of domesticity. Women were encouraged to stay home and raise families and basically just bow to the oppressive male system. “They dropped out of college, married early, and read women’s magazines that urged them to hold on to their husband’s love by pretending to be dumb and helpless” (Collins 398-399). <em>Dial M for Murder</em> and <em>To Catch a Thief</em> glaringly parallel the social atmosphere of the 1950s. Margot Wendice and Francie Stevens are secondary characters, the most obvious difference between these characters and the ones in the films from the 1940s and 1960s. Grace Kelly receives second billing, and the characters played by Ray Milland and Cary Grant really drive the stories. She is basically reduced to the role of sidekick, albeit a very attractive one. <br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In fact, quite a bit of the action of <em>Dial M for Murder</em> occurs without her in it, and she only appears in earnest in <em>To Catch a Thief</em> about a half hour into the film. Actually, most of Hitchcock’s films from the 1950s focus on male characters, such as <em>Strangers on a Train</em>, <em>Rear Window</em>, and <em>North by Northwest</em>, a clear articulation of the decade’s priorities. In addition to a surprising lack of screen time for Kelly in both films, especially <em>Dial M for Murder</em>, <em>To Catch a Thief </em>raises another question: Why was it acceptable for Cary Grant to play the romantic lead in 1946 and again in 1955? For a man, getting older makes him distinguished, but women had to be replaced with new and younger models, like cars. Among the six Hitchcock blondes, Margot is the only true housewife, and her character remains relatively undeveloped, especially compared to Tony. Also, even though Francie is by no means weak and would never be a housewife, she seems flat in comparison to the rich characterizations in <em>Spellbound</em>, <em>Notorious</em>, <em>The Birds</em>, and <em>Marnie</em>. Despite wonderful performances by Kelly, her films suffer from a reduction of the Hitchcock blonde to eye candy status. All of these issues regarding the Hitchcock blonde are totally congruous with the social climate and women’s roles in the 1950s. <br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the beginning of <em>The Birds</em>, the Hitchcock blonde assumes the form of Melanie Daniels in the first of Hedren’s two films. Cool and self-confident bordering on arrogant, Melanie is a socialite accustomed to the good life. At a bird shop, she eyes Mitch Brenner (Rod Taylor) and finds him attractive. She decides to pursue Mitch, and she drives all the way to Bodega Bay to do so. Even though Melanie acts immature at the start of the film, she transforms into a pillar of strength once the bird attacks gain momentum. Mitch’s sister, Cathy (Veronica Cartwright), takes to her immediately, and Melanie protects her in a very motherly way. Mitch’s mother, Lydia (Jessica Tandy), dislikes Melanie upon her arrival, but Melanie exhibits compassion toward her during the crisis. Of course, Melanie and Mitch bond even faster than usual because of the situation. While everyone else falls apart, Melanie remains strong. Despite her pampered life, Melanie exudes strength and courage. At the end, she is stunned when some birds violently attack her, but the shock does not make her weak. Melanie exchanges a tender look with Lydia in the car, so in addition to falling in love, she finds the mother she never had. Under immense stress, Melanie Daniels demonstrates the resiliency of the Hitchcock blonde.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Quite consistent with the increasing popularity of the women’s movement, <em>The Birds</em> presents a strong heroine, completely unlike the subordinate characters of the films from the 1950s. In fact, Melanie Daniels is actually the strongest Hitchcock blonde out of the set, because she transforms and matures much more than the others. Even though Mitch also remains calm, Melanie commands the situation and concerns herself primarily with the well-being and safety of others. She demonstrates the take-charge attitude prevalent in American women of the 1960s. Certainly, Melanie and Marnie are more developed than the characters in the 1950s, much like the characters of the 1940s. Once again, female characters propel the story. Despite Marnie’s illness, she fights for her independence. It also seems like more than mere coincidence that the appearance of a psychotic female character, Marnie, occurs at the same time as the emergence of a new feminist perspective in society. Could it be, perhaps, the manifestation of male insecurities, or even a subconscious attempt to curb the momentum of the movement? Conspiracy or not, <em>The Birds</em> and <em>Marnie</em> illustrate the pervasive influence of society in the 1960s and emphasize important changes in the roles of American women.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, the Hitchcock blonde is more than just a beautiful stereotype. Even though they enjoy the company of many other blondes, Ingrid Bergman, Grace Kelly, and Tippi Hedren virtually defined the concept of the Hitchcock blonde with their inspiring incarnations in films released only a year apart. In six films, the Hitchcock blonde assumes the identity of a psychiatrist, a spy, a reluctant killer, an amorous heiress, a hero, and a disturbed thief. In addition to highlighting the variation among the roles, these films prove that art cannot escape its social context by definitively commenting on women in American society in three different decades. Much controversy has surrounded whether or not Alfred Hitchcock was a misogynist. While these six Hitchcock blondes experience a lot of turmoil, they all emerge stronger and indeed triumph over it. Rather than being misogynistic, these characters are actually quite empowering for women. Besides, the men in Hitchcock’s films do not exactly have it easy either, and his audiences similarly suffer along with the characters. If anything, it appears that Hitchcock was an equal opportunity sadist.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-39367596761171513062008-02-13T04:10:00.002-06:002008-02-13T04:34:52.638-06:00Rhett, Scarlett, and the Word "Damn": Censorship in "Gone With the Wind"<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">The film and book versions of <em>Gone With the Wind</em> are compared and contrasted in terms of censorship, their relationship to the Production Code, and the requisite changes from the book to the screen. On a filmmaking level alone, <em>Gone With the Wind</em> is practically unparalleled in its scope and production issues, but the Production Code Administration (PCA), the governing censorship body of Hollywood, kept a close, critical watch on the preproduction and production of the film. The censors wanted to eradicate the book’s racier elements. Many compromises were made to satisfy Production Code regulations, and many battles were fought over the content and representation, but the film remains remarkably faithful to the novel in spite of the circumstances. The paper discusses some especially prickly censorship issues, including one scene in particular with Scarlett O’Hara propositioning Rhett Butler for money. For all the trouble caused by the Production Code Administration, <em>Gone With the Wind</em> emerged relatively unscathed, and there are still moments when the viewer senses the filmmakers winking, quietly celebrating something they managed to sneak in under the censors’ noses.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When Daniel Lord and Martin Quigley drafted the Production Code, they established the rules of morality that would govern films for over thirty years. Basically, the Production Code assigned movies the daunting task of teaching the masses about morality, essentially turning art and entertainment into religious indoctrination. Luckily, many filmmakers found ways to get around the rigid confines of the Code, but more often than not, it involved significant compromises, much like in <em>Gone With the Wind</em>. One major part that suffers due to compromise and alteration is the scene where Scarlett visits Rhett at the jail and propositions him for money. It is not that the scene does not work in the film, because it works adequately enough, but it pales in comparison to the original scene in the novel. The scene suffers more from omission than from any real creative changes. Basically, the chapter selection on the DVD says it all by calling the scene “Appeal to Rhett.” However, the book makes it abundantly clear that this “appeal” is actually an indecent proposal.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Upon seeing Scarlett’s overworked hands, Rhett senses an ulterior motive. In the film, he simply accuses her of putting on an act to get something, but in the book, his anger at her deception borders on verbal abuse. “`But no, you had to come jingling your earbobs and pouting and frisking like a prostitute with a prospective client’” (Mitchell 570). At this point in the film, Scarlett begs for the money to save Tara, and when Rhett asks for collateral, she implores, “You once said you loved me. If you still love me, Rhett…” After he reminds her that he is not the marrying type and she says that she remembers, he looks her up and down very quickly, and a heavy pause lingers between them, causing Scarlett to cast her eyes down. Finally, he breaks the silence, “You’re not worth three hundred dollars. You’ll never mean anything but misery to any man.” During that pause, one could almost infer that something other than marriage is being considered, so maybe this was a way for the filmmakers to get the real point across. But before the viewer can really question it, Rhett’s comment about Scarlett bringing misery to men negates that idea and definitely implies marriage. Also, the use of the word “love” in the film clearly points to marriage, thus making Scarlett’s offer grudgingly acceptable according to the Code.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">On the other hand, the word “love” does not enter the equation in the novel. Scarlett decides that she will do whatever it takes to get the money, whether that means marriage or simply sex. Instead of “love,” the words “mistress” and “prostitute” get thrown around, but their use would have been strictly forbidden in the film. Finally, when Rhett asks her for collateral, she boldly states, “`I – I have myself’” (Mitchell 573). She further supplicates, “`You said – you said you’d never wanted a woman as much as you wanted me. If you still want me, you can have me’” (Mitchell 573). Again, the book uses the word “want,” whereas the film uses “love” to make it seem honorable. Finally, Rhett responds, “`What makes you think you are worth three hundred dollars? Most women don’t come that high’” (Mitchell 573). Clearly, they are discussing sex, and only sex. Rhett torments her by bluntly summing up the situation, “`I’ll give you three hundred dollars and you’ll become my mistress’” (Mitchell 574). The filmmakers did not really try to get around the Code or subvert it; they merely changed the sex to marriage and love in order to appease the censors. Unfortunately, this change causes the scene to lose some of its original desperation and meaning. In the book, it is important to understand just how far Scarlett is willing to go to save Tara. Maybe the filmmakers circumvented the Code a bit by suggesting that something else is happening with a long pause, but the implication is so vague and subtle, if it is even an implication at all, that it could hardly be considered subversion. This scene perfectly encapsulates the pervasive influence of the Production Code on filmmaking.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When producer David O. Selznick purchased the rights to <em>Gone With the Wind</em>, he made one of the biggest and riskiest decisions of his life. Since the novel contains graphic depictions of war, violence, rape, and various other immoral behaviors, it was only a matter of time before the PCA became involved with the production. “The censors first paid attention to <em>Gone With the Wind</em> in September 1937 – sixteen months before the movie started shooting. As usual, the anxieties of the Production Code Administration centered on sex – implicit, explicit, or illicit – and the consequences of sex” (Harmetz 137). Obviously, some of the biggest sexual issues involved prostitution, Rhett’s rape of Scarlett, and any relations between Scarlett and the married Ashley. These concerns, along with many others, were detailed by Code administrator Joseph Breen after reading the first draft of the script. “When the first screenplay for Gone with the Wind was submitted, Breen’s response on October 14, 1937, consisted of seven pages with fifty specific warnings and suggestions” (Walsh 149). Sex was hardly the only problem Breen had with the film, but it was certainly the main one.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In the novel, the Ku Klux Klan plays an integral part, but the PCA and Selznick reached a mutual agreement to cut out the Klan entirely from the film and to eliminate the word “nigger.” Considering the backlash from Negro associations against the portrayal of blacks in the novel, this was a wise decision (Cameron 42-43). Selznick fought another major battle with the censors about the scene where Rhett rapes Scarlett. The main debate concerned Scarlett’s positive reaction the next morning. “Breen objected strongly to Scarlett’s ‘figuratively licking her chops’ after having been raped by her husband” (Walsh 150). Eventually, the scene got cut shorter, but surprisingly, it still made it into the film. Scarlett literally glows with ecstatic contentment in her bed the morning after her husband rapes her, a true victory for Selznick. Undoubtedly, the biggest clash between Selznick and the PCA transpired over the use of the word “damn” in Rhett’s famous line at the end of the film. In a personal letter to Will Hays from October 1939, only two months before the film’s release, Selznick pleaded his case: “A great deal of the force and drama of <em>Gone With the Wind</em>, a project to which we have given three years of hard work and hard thought, is dependent upon that word” (Behlmer 245). Ironically, with so many controversial subjects to choose from, one four-letter word created the most trouble and almost jeopardized the effectiveness of the whole film. Luckily, Selznick triumphed, and that little word ended up costing him $5,000 (Cameron 216). Clearly, the PCA formed an intensely close relationship with the production of <em>Gone With the Wind</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-51788359130751097312008-02-13T02:04:00.002-06:002008-02-13T03:00:56.892-06:00Reflections in the "Mirror": The Work of Ebrahim Golestan<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In May 2007, legendary Iranian filmmaker Ebrahim Golestan came to Chicago for a retrospective of his work, which included short non-fiction films and features. It was the first time one feature, <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em>, was shown for an audience in over thirty years. Golestan was present at that screening and others to engage in discourse with the audience. Now over eighty years old, Golestan is still sharp and totally charming. The four short documentaries are described and critiqued as vividly as possible because the reader will probably never get to see them. Additionally, there is a detailed discussion of <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em> (also unfortunately unavailable to the public), a feature-length fiction film released in 1965 about a taxi driver who must care for a baby that has been left in his car. It is funny, tragic, ultimately poignant, and a great work of social commentary. Golestan’s own comments about his films are intertwined with the analysis.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">After showing his film <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em> to the public for the first time in over thirty-five years, Ebrahim Golestan, a distinguished-looking man of over eighty with a shock of white hair, slowly approaches a podium. As a microphone is attached, the Chicago audience applauds. Finally, he says, simply and humbly, “Thank you.” After that, he asks, with a wry smile on his face, “Is there anything I can do?” The audience laughs, and this establishes his demeanor – easy-going, direct, and witty, something very rare in filmmakers today. Golestan, the legendary Iranian filmmaker, has traveled to Chicago for a retrospective of some of his rarest and most significant works. After viewing four short documentaries and one feature-length fiction film, a distinct style emerges – honest and confrontational, funny and often heart-breaking, and deeply, personally human. He proves that even when working on commission, he could create works of art. With his four short documentaries and <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em>, Ebrahim Golestan definitively secured his place in world cinema, and these works still resonate and provoke discussion today.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the screening of his early documentaries, the first film shown was <em>The Wave, Coral and Rock</em>, a film actually commissioned by the Iranian Oil Company, presented in dazzling Technicolor. Watching the beginning of it, it recalls a show entitled <em>Planet Earth</em> that is very popular today, a series that searches the globe for beautiful and often previously unseen places. There is definitely a nature show feel about this documentary, but it is much more lyrical and almost epic. The camera explores the depths of the water in the Persian Gulf and the stunning aquatic life, “oblivious of the torments of thought.” Throughout the entire film, and actually all of the documentaries, the camera is sweeping, penetrating, and constantly moving, which further emphasizes the poetic nature of his work. In the midst of this natural splendor, an oil field is being built, and the focus shifts to that process.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">As Golestan himself made clear after the screening, this film was not made as a condemnation of industry. He said that when he made it, that was not “fashionable.” Yet the film does seem to be a comment on nature versus technology, but more about nature’s ability to survive in spite of technology. It is actually a hopeful message. This film also very closely resembles Fernand Léger’s 1924 film about the beauty of machinery called <em>Ballet Mécanique</em>. There is a very musical, rhythmic quality to the pacing, fluidity, and choice of shots in Golestan’s film. He makes something inherently ugly beautiful. Golestan’s narration completely elevates the film above a traditional industrial documentary. At one time, it is said about the machinery that the “metallic branches are in bloom,” a stunning metaphor.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the same time, his visuals are just as meticulous and gorgeous. He also maintains a heavy sense of irony, which makes it difficult to believe that he had no subversive intentions whatsoever, although one would certainly never argue with the director. At one point, sheep relax under the shade of pipes ready to be laid for the gigantic pipeline. It is a powerful image, but it also emphasizes his assertion that he did not have any ulterior motive when making this film. The sheep look totally happy; in fact, they are probably much happier under the pipes than before. Where else could they find that sort of respite from the hot sun? Industry does not always destroy nature, and sometimes it is possible for the two to work in harmony. This massive undertaking took over one million days to build. The last shot shows the pristine, sparkling sea once again, unchanged and unphased by the weight of the pipes passing through it.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Of all the four documentaries screened, <em>The Iranian Crown Jewels</em> is by far the most controversial. It was commissioned by the national bank in order to glorify Iran’s wealth. Unlike the other films, this was blatantly and intentionally subversive. He utilized the commission to denounce the practices of past rulers. Basically, all of the jewels were taken violently or through other unjust means. As Golestan says, “There is no glory in that.” So his film was butchered to make it more acceptable. What suffered the most was his narration, which he provided in its entirety to the audience at the screening. It reads like an epic poem, but it is highly confrontational. He insists that “majesty and magnificence do not derive from dazzling ornaments. They come from the core of being alive. And to be dazzled by décor is the beginning and the key to decadence.” The film begins by showing images of people living extremely simply, not unhappy but clearly very poor, which makes the presentation of the jewels even more striking and heavily ironic and denunciatory. After all, what good is the wealth of a country when it cannot aid its inhabitants?<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While the first four films are short non-fiction works, <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em>, released in 1965, is a feature-length work of fiction. Golestan produced, wrote, edited, and directed the film, proving his incomparable versatility and skill as a filmmaker. The film, at times very funny and at other times very tragic, takes place over the course of a day (most of it takes place overnight) and tells the story of a taxi driver named Hashem who discovers that a woman has left her baby girl in the back of his car. He then must examine his conscience and decide what to do, aided by his girlfriend, Taji. Hashem leaves the baby at an orphanage, causing an irreparable rift with Taji. She desperately needs something in her life that will give it meaning. As Golestan posed after the screening, “Do we have a need for a savior? Who is the savior? Is a savior sent to us by some higher authority?” After she lambastes him for his cowardice at not keeping the baby, he is forced to grapple with his decision, wandering the streets in his car alone.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">After Taji yells at Hashem, she visits the orphanage, and it is one of the most devastating and poignant sequences in film history, a scene that brings tears of joy and pain to the viewer’s eyes. She goes there to try and find the little girl she has lost, but when she enters, she discovers hundreds of children, all alone and needy. In one room, about a dozen little boys eagerly await visitors. When they see her, they light up and start to bounce around, coming closer to her. It is truly adorable, and Taji laughs and plays with them. However, the sad realization sinks in at the same time for both the audience and Taji. This heartwarming scene suddenly transforms into a moment of sheer horror. These precious children have no one to care for them. She cannot possibly take all of them home. It is so desperately sad that these children, no disrespect intended, act like wounded shelter animals performing tricks to try and get someone to accept them. This seems like something they do all the time. When she has to leave the room, they scatter, another possibility lost. They are used to the disappointment.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Without a doubt, the silence in the building is not the fault of the orphanage. They are doing the best they can with an impossible situation. Golestan explains, “She went into the orphanage to find the factor that she thought was the savior, and then she realizes that all of those babies could be that.” Taji leaves the main room with all the children and leans against the wall in the hallway for support, emitting a few quick sobs, but otherwise too shaken to even cry. The camera pulls away from her slowly, tracking backwards down the long, empty hallway, a move that Golestan feels emphasizes her loneliness. The fact that this is a real orphanage makes the film even more upsetting. Golestan’s bravery in exposing this grave social problem is inspirational, and he approaches the issue with the utmost sensitivity. Near the end of the film, Hashem stops in front of some televisions on display in a store window and watches a program on the sets. The man on television says something to the effect that remaining silent in the face of injustice is a crime. This is what Golestan believes, and what everyone should believe.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, Ebrahim Golestan, even though he has been removed from his audience for so long, remains one of the most intelligent, thought-provoking, and influential filmmakers, certainly in Iranian cinema, but in the history of cinema in general. Whether making industrial documentaries or narrative features, he possesses a poetic visual style, grace, and a sense of humor, all rare qualities today. What really makes him so special is his ability to speak the truth. His message may be blunt or harsh for some people, but it is honest: “Life goes on, and things happen.” He explained that life, as mentioned in <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em>, is like the lottery – sometimes you win, and sometimes you do not. Golestan also understands that real change has to start within. When talking about the theme of <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em>, he insisted, “I know that it is me, a human being, who is responsible for his own life.” A member of the audience asked him if he thought the ending of <em>The Brick and the Mirror</em> was hopeful or hopeless, and he said that it was neither, and that it did not matter. After living a difficult life, he still manages to remain wryly optimistic, “You can always have hope. I have hope now, even at the very end of a desperate situation.” Basically, he knows that a filmmaker cannot tell someone whether or not to believe in hope; they need to find that in themselves, like he did. When he started the discussion, he asked the audience if there was anything he could do. He has already done more for the world than he can ever realize.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-19306690074126134822008-02-13T00:29:00.002-06:002008-02-13T02:03:55.713-06:00Out of the "Fog"<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Most people do not realize that the documentary genre includes widely varying subgenres other than the most commonly-known “talking head” approach, such as educational, persuasive, performative, participatory, and poetic. Most great documentary filmmakers incorporate several styles. One such documentarian, and arguably the greatest, is Errol Morris. His Oscar-winning 2004 documentary <em>The Fog of War</em> is a startling, candid portrait of former Secretary of Defense (during the Vietnam War) Robert McNamara. The film combines extensive interviews with McNamara (through Morris’ unique Interrotron device, which allows the subject to look directly at the camera and still maintain eye contact with the interviewer), archival footage, previously unreleased and classified taped conversations, a dazzling array of visual techniques and montages, and an unforgettable score by Philip Glass to create one of the most stunning documentaries of all time. He proves that documentaries can be highly artistic and aesthetic. The paper also covers some of the key points made by McNamara and explores their implications for today’s world.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">According to Bill Nichols in <em>Introduction to Documentary</em>, documentary films fall into six categories, or modes of representation. However, they seldom, if ever, fit neatly into one category. Often, documentaries combine characteristics of two or more types. The Fog of War is primarily a participatory documentary. “Filmmakers who seek to represent their own direct encounter with their surrounding world and those who seek to represent broad social issues and historical perspectives through interviews and compilation footage constitute two large components of the participatory mode” (Nichols 123). Since the film utilizes an interview with Robert McNamara and archival footage to attempt to make sense of history, it clearly falls into the latter component.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In <em>The Fog of War</em>, the interview between Errol Morris and Robert McNamara acts as the film’s foundation. “The interview stands as one of the most common forms of encounter between filmmaker and subject in participatory documentary” (Nichols 121). What makes the interview particularly engaging is a device that Morris uses when filming that allows the subject to look directly at the camera when speaking. This gives the sense that McNamara is actually talking to the viewer and establishes a certain intimacy between subject and audience. In fact, there are times when the close-up shots are so extreme that the viewer can look McNamara right in the eyes. There are also moments during the film when Morris can be heard off-screen prompting McNamara with questions or comments. Since Morris was obviously prompting him the whole time, it was a deliberate choice for him to leave these parts in the film. He includes his voice when he wants to draw attention to the issue or when something sensitive is being discussed, such as Vietnam or the Cuban Missile Crisis.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In the history of the United States, the Vietnam War is one of the most controversial and polarizing topics. Robert McNamara, Secretary of Defense from 1960-1967 during the first years of the conflict, bore the brunt of the blame at the time and still continues to be blamed today. However, he explains in the film that the responsibility was ultimately the President’s. This does not mean that he does not acknowledge his role in the events or account for his actions, but he feels that they were doing what they thought was best at the time with the information they had available to them. In the film, he admits something that seldom escapes the mouth of a government official, “We were wrong…And it carried such heavy costs.” Basically, nothing the U.S. could have done would have changed the situation, and the Vietnamese resented the intervention. Also, the U.S. had no support from other countries. McNamara explains, “None of our allies supported us…If we can’t persuade nations with comparable values of the merit of our cause, we’d better reexamine our reasoning.” By shedding light on the past through his personal encounters with it and the benefit of hindsight, Robert McNamara clearly brings a unique perspective to the Vietnam War.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In order to establish rhythm, Morris uses a brilliant and very distinct montage technique. He bombards the viewer with pictures, words, charts, and numbers in relation to the topic at hand. The tempo starts slow and then increases until the visuals are practically blurring together on the screen. For instance, after McNamara talks about the protests to the Vietnam War, a montage that encapsulates the general consensus about him during and after the war shows the beating he took in the media. Some of the images include articles with emphasis on particular words or phrases, such as “warmonger” and “two-faced,” as well as pictures and satirical cartoons. This not only establishes rhythm, it also serves to set a tone. Depending on the subject matter, this tone can be triumphant or horrifying. Morris employs this technique effectively in several other instances in the film. Lastly, the original score by Philip Glass contributes immensely to the overall mood of the film. Music is an important aspect of both the poetic and performative modes of documentary. The performative mode “freely mixes the expressive techniques that give texture and density to fiction…” (Nichols 134), such as a musical score. The haunting score perfectly compliments and enriches the film, sets the mood, and lingers with the viewer long after the film is over.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, <em>The Fog of War</em> is an intimate and uncompromising look at history through the eyes of someone who experienced it personally. On an ideological level, the film goes even deeper still. It indicates the dangers present in today’s world, and both Errol Morris and Robert McNamara are imploring world leaders to pay attention. When talking about the United States, McNamara asks, “What makes us omniscient? Have we a record of omniscience?” These questions hit especially close to home in regards to the present war in Iraq. He urges people today to think about the consequences of their actions. He challenges, “I think the human race needs to think more about killing, about conflict. Is that what we want in this 21st century?” He predicts, “The indefinite combination of human fallibility and nuclear weapons will destroy nations.” If people do not heed these warnings with the way things are going today, he may very well be right.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-32473250450674536272008-02-12T23:49:00.001-06:002008-02-13T00:28:46.368-06:00The Fast Food Industry: The True Story of the American Nightmare<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Morgan Spurlock’s 2004 documentary <em>Super Size Me</em> and Eric Schlosser’s 2001 exposé <em>Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal</em> both bravely attack the fast food industry and its poisonous influence on American culture. Although they have different modus operandi, Spulock and Schlosser share a common goal, which is to educate the public on a part of life that most people take for granted or dismiss totally. In <em>Super Size Me</em>, Spurlock takes on McDonald’s by embarking on a month-long diet of only McDonald’s food – breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As his body and health deteriorate, he also explores the total lack of exercise and proper nutrition in schools. Spurlock truly endangered his life for this experiment, and the results and ramifications are shocking. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In <em>Fast Food Nation</em>, Eric Schlosser attacks the industry from all angles and leaves no corporation unscathed. While Spurlock focuses primarily on the health risks of fast food and specifically McDonald’s, Schlosser examines all the companies, as well as the health dangers, the grievous mistreatment of workers, the homogenization of global business (Spurlock touches on this, too), the chemical modification of food, the meatpacking industry (especially slaughterhouses), the potato industry, the poultry industry, and diseases caused by these misdeeds. McDonald’s emerges as the ultimate villain, not just in <em>Super Size Me</em>, but in <em>Fast Food Nation</em>, where it bears the brunt of the criticism, simply because its practices are the worst. These two works should be mandatory viewing and reading for all Americans, but especially for kids in school. The brainwashing by these companies starts early, and maybe easy access to this information and more proactive awareness could stop it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Whereas <em>Super Size Me</em> is mainly about the ramifications of fast food in terms of obesity and the impact on children and education, <em>Fast Food Nation</em> is perhaps the most brilliant, important, and complete piece of muckraking ever written. Schlosser exposes the greed and corruption of the government and the biggest corporations, including McDonald’s, as well as their negligence in taking care of the industries and workers responsible for providing this food to the public. These two works perfectly compliment one another and illustrate the problems plaguing society today, and even though they focus on different issues, their messages are the same. “During a relatively brief period of time, the fast food industry has helped to transform not only the American diet, but also our landscape, economy, workforce, and popular culture” (Schlosser 3). Both Morgan Spurlock’s<em> Super Size Me</em> and Eric Schlosser’s <em>Fast Food Nation</em> point out the monumental flaws present in the fast food industry today, specifically emphasizing the industry’s impact on world homogenization, business practices, advertising, education, food production methods, and obesity.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Ron English, the artist of the eerie paintings of Ronald McDonald displayed in <em>Super Size Me</em>, states in the film, “America’s been McDonaldized, you know. It’s been franchised out.” And this is not only in America; it is happening all over the world. “Becoming a franchisee is an odd combination of starting your own business and going to work for someone else” (Schlosser 94). Again, this merely represents the growing trend of homogenization, as the same businesses pop up everywhere. In the suburbs of Chicago, for example, it is practically impossible to drive more than a few blocks and not see a Walgreen’s. The same fast food restaurants and the same stores appear over and over, even in the most astonishing places. Spurlock draws attention to a McDonald’s in a hospital, perhaps the most appropriate location for one, except maybe a cemetery. But nothing is more appalling than the location of one McDonald’s in Germany, sitting practically on top of the entrance to Dachau, “the first concentration camp opened by the Nazis” (Schlosser 233). Of course, McDonald’s claimed they were not trying to capitalize on the horror of the Holocaust, but “the curator of the Dachau Museum complained that McDonald’s was distributing thousands of leaflets among tourists in the camp’s parking lot…`Welcome to Dachau,’ said the leaflets, `and welcome to McDonald’s’” (Schlosser 233). Trying to turn a profit on the systematic murder of millions of innocent people surely earns the McDonald’s corporation a special place in hell. Apparently, nothing is sacred when it comes to franchising.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During his month-long McBinge, Spurlock visits various schools to see what the kids are eating. At one school (and undoubtedly at most others), the kids are offered a cornucopia of junk food – candy bars, bags of chips, fries, and Swiss Rolls. When one of the workers tells him that they provide Gatorade and lemonade instead of soda, Spurlock points out that a can of lemonade contains just as much sugar as a can of soda. Many kids simply order fries for lunch, and the schools naively think that the kids are eating the fries as a side dish, not the main course. Spurlock follows the kids to their tables and finds that, indeed, kids are eating fries, candy, and chips for their main courses. At another school for kids with behavioral problems, they are served healthy, fresh, non-processed foods, as well as no beef or soda. The attitudes and behaviors of the students improved dramatically. Remarkably, this program costs just about as much as the other programs, but no one wants to lose the money that corporations provide them for placing their products in the schools and keeping them there. Paul Stitt, founder of the company that provides the healthy food program to students, bluntly declares, “They want to be there to addict the children for life.” Also, physical education has been cut drastically in the school system, making it almost obsolete. In fact, says Spurlock, “in the U.S., only one state requires mandatory physical education for grades K-12.” The lack of physical activity and the unhealthy food being provided by the schools could very well prove to be a lethal combination for the nation’s kids.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In <em>Fast Food Nation</em>, Eric Schlosser asserts, “What we eat has changed more in the last forty years than in the previous forty thousand” (7). And since the foods have changed so rapidly in such a short period of time, the ways that the food is made has had to change just as much to keep up. “In the potato fields and processing plants of Idaho, in the ranchlands east of Colorado Springs, in the feedlots and slaughterhouses of the High Plains, you can see the effects of fast food on the nation’s rural life, its environment, its workers, and its health” (Schlosser 8). Gradually, farmers and ranchers are being brutally pushed aside to make way for suppliers that are more suitable to the needs of McDonald’s and the rest of the fast food industry, and the suicide rate among that group has increased considerably (Schlosser 146). Instead of building a competitive market, the potato, beef, and poultry industries are being taken over by a handful of conglomerates that completely own the market. “Today the top four meatpacking firms – ConAgra, IBP, Excel, and National Beef – slaughter about 84 percent of the nation’s cattle” (Schlosser 137-138). In addition, “the McNugget helped change not only the American diet but also its system for raising and processing poultry” (Schlosser 140). Fast food has irrevocably changed the way people make food, and that change is not a positive one.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Similar to the fast food companies, the meatpacking industry relies on a workforce comprised of people it can exploit to the fullest – immigrants. These workers are unaware of their basic rights, and joining a union is practically forbidden. Since the number of cattle that need to be slaughtered keeps increasing with the rising demand of the fast food companies, specifically McDonald’s, it makes sense that the number of injuries on the job also keeps increasing. Schlosser found that workers were “under tremendous pressure not to report injuries” (175). For whatever reason, as things got more dangerous, the government got more lax about safety laws, most likely because the corporations were giving an awful lot of money to make sure things went their way, even at the expense of their workers. In one of the most despicable incidents of deception, IBP was actually found to be keeping two sets of logs, one that contained actual injuries, and a fabricated one that they showed to inspectors (Schlosser 180).<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">After only thirty days on his McDonald’s diet, eating three meals a day there and restricting his physical activity to the bare minimum like most Americans, Spurlock was in danger of damaging his body beyond repair. His liver had taken a serious beating, his cholesterol increased by sixty-five points, he experienced depression, and he gained twenty-four and a half pounds. When he tried to reach someone from McDonald’s for an interview, he was unsurprisingly given the runaround. Spurlock acknowledges that his project was extreme, and he counters, “But the scary part is, there are people who eat this food regularly. Some people even eat it every day.” Anyone who works at McDonald’s can no longer claim that eating its food has no harmful side effects, because even if people eat it less often, it is still harming them or even killing them, just at a slower rate. As Daryl M. Isaacs, one of Spurlock’s doctors in the film, rightly says, “And there’s no reason whatsoever why fast food has to be so disgusting.” A mere six weeks after <em>Super Size Me</em>’s premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, where Spurlock took home the Best Director prize, McDonald’s decided to do away with Supersized portions, claiming the decision was not influenced by the film at all.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, Morgan Spurlock’s <em>Super Size Me</em> and Eric Schlosser’s <em>Fast Food Nation</em> boldly attack the very nature of our culture today, leaving no institution unscathed in their searing criticisms. The entire fast food industry shares the blame, but McDonald’s is an easy target because, quite simply, it is the biggest and the worst of them all. Things do not have to be this bad. “The fast food chains insist that suppliers follow strict specifications regarding the sugar content, fat content, size, shape, taste, and texture of their products. The chains could just as easily enforce a strict code of conduct governing the treatment of workers, ranchers, and farmers” (Schlosser 268). But at the end of the day, “nobody in the United States is forced to buy fast food” (Schlosser 269). The real people who have the power to change the system are the people who buy the product, and as long as people keep giving fast food companies their money, nothing will ever change. Every human being should be required to watch<em> Super Size Me</em> and read <em>Fast Food Nation</em>, and anyone who can still eat at McDonald’s afterwards is in serious denial.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-55471797991679449452008-02-12T23:42:00.003-06:002008-02-12T23:48:47.876-06:00Makin' Whoopee with "The Fabulous Baker Boys"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7I0P5iDnMPA1Ji42KbVINJA8ffllIoTPIXHLK-NYOvspaqJGImxdg9AKNBtj4b1XEMkmWQhSr242rqsyFhxfyGxzCnxHWnsssCxKtspRfG719T4ihs9jTmiSbwPaoLO_GyLqJ29mWPUHm/s1600-h/whoopee7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166337571445618258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7I0P5iDnMPA1Ji42KbVINJA8ffllIoTPIXHLK-NYOvspaqJGImxdg9AKNBtj4b1XEMkmWQhSr242rqsyFhxfyGxzCnxHWnsssCxKtspRfG719T4ihs9jTmiSbwPaoLO_GyLqJ29mWPUHm/s320/whoopee7.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"><em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em>, released in 1989 and written and directed by Steven Kloves, is a romantic comedy in which the “romance” manifests itself between two brothers, rather than in a conventional male-female relationship. This decidedly moody film, paralleled by its turbulent production process, about two brothers, Jack and Frank, with a long-standing piano nightclub act stars Jeff and Beau Bridges as the title characters. Strapped for cash, the brothers recruit a hot, young singer named Susie (Michelle Pfeiffer) to spice up the act. Jack and Susie have romantic chemistry, and while at first it might seem like Frank will express his interest in Susie, as well, it is soon abundantly clear that the only person Frank is interested in is his younger brother. Obviously, it is not a sexual attraction, but they function as the film’s romantic couple, caught in the genre’s familiar tropes. Released in the late 1980s, the film reflects the uncertain social climate of the time in Jack’s angry solitude, the characters’ financially precarious world, and class tensions. Within the romantic comedy genre, <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> emerges as a comedy of romance, in which the logistics of relationships are explored rather than whether or not two people will simply end up together. The film has a historical lineage in its similarities to <em>The Heartbreak Kid</em>, both featuring the archetype of the self-exploratory male, and its implementation of genre conventions in order to tell an unconventional love story about two brothers.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br />During one of many heated brotherly battles in <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em>, Frank (Beau Bridges) whips a kiwi at his younger brother Jack (Jeff Bridges) in their shared hotel suite. Jack responds by hurling a pineapple at him. Watching incredulously from the doorway of her room, Susie Diamond (Michelle Pfeiffer) muses, “It’s like the fucking <em>Newlywed Game</em>.” Indeed, even though the film might appear to be about the relationship between Jack and Susie, it is quite clear from the beginning that this is a romantic comedy about two brothers. From the time of its conception until its release,<em> The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> encountered numerous obstacles. Released in 1989, the film indicates the nation’s exhaustion at the end of a tumultuous decade. Within the romantic comedy genre, <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> is a direct descendent of <em>The Heartbreak Kid</em>, with some significant differences. Both films feature an apathetic protagonist overflowing with self-loathing. <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> endured an arduous production process that contributed to the mood of the film, reflects the precarious social climate at the end of the 1980s, and represents the romantic comedy genre by exploring existing conventions.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Since no film can ever escape its social context, it makes sense that <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em>, a film about a family musical act that does not seem to have any particular agenda, still mirrors the society in which it was produced. Just a few weeks after the film was released, the Berlin Wall crumbled, effectively bringing an end to the Soviet Union’s Communist reign and leading directly to its collapse and the end of the Cold War. While <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> certainly did not precipitate these monumental events in any way, it is important to note the chaotic state of the world at the time of its release. Perhaps Jack’s confusion and anger about his place in life, consciously or not, parallels the global situation and increasing tensions in the United States over the Cold War.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Throughout the film, Jack inexplicably takes care of a young girl who lives in the same apartment building. Her mother totally neglects her, but since “family displacement had a growing effect on children during the 1980s” (Kallen 68), she represents an indictment of that trend. Also, during the decade, “studies showed that the gulf between rich and poor grew wider” (Kallen 60), and nowhere is that more evident than in <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em>. Jack, Frank, and even Susie perform in places they could never afford, and the entire film takes place against the backdrop of a rundown Seattle, peppered with homeless shelters and dilapidated buildings. The bleak setting and class issues also serve as a reminder of the downfalls of the greed plaguing America at the time, because “the 1980s will be remembered as an era of high-flying mergers, frenzied investment, corporate raiders, S&L collapse, and a roller-coaster stock market” (Kallen 61). <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> remains a virtual time capsule of the late-1980s by exploring, inadvertently or not, political, economic, and social issues.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When it comes to romantic comedies, they do not always focus on conventional sexual relationships. Granted, <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> does end with Jack and Susie’s likely romantic union, but a strong argument can be made that the film is really about the relationship between the two brothers, and Susie is only the irritant that stimulates change. The brothers are even total opposites, the quintessential odd couple. Jack, the younger brother, is acerbic and rebellious, while the married Frank is the uptight square. They have been playing professionally for fifteen years and bicker like an old married couple. When they first hire Susie to sing with them, Frank appears attracted to her, which sets up a Sabrina scenario. However, nothing ever transpires, and she functions solely to bring out Frank’s jealousy. In a borderline creepy scene, the three of them get drunk, which prompts Frank to shower Jack with compliments, calling him “brilliant” over and over. Frank gazes at the sky and reflects, “It was just like this on our honeymoon. The moon, the stars…Remember, Jack?” He matter-of-factly responds, “I wasn’t there.” Frank then proceeds to dreamily watch Jack and Susie dance under the moonlight.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In the 1960s, the romantic comedy definitively branched off into two separate paths – the more traditional romantic comedy in which boy gets girl, and the comedy of romance which explores the intricacies of human relationships. During this reconstruction, a new archetype emerged, called the outsider or the self-exploratory male. He oozes self-loathing, lacks social skills, and is extremely bitter and cynical. This archetype appears in both <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> and <em>The Heartbreak Kid</em>, with slight variations. Lenny Cantrow (Charles Grodin) in <em>The Heartbreak Kid</em> is callous, selfish, superficial, confused, and does not believe in anything. He marries Lila (Jeannie Berlin) and immediately gets annoyed with her. At a diner, he grits his teeth, grinning with faux enthusiasm, and tells her, “There’s a lot of things that you didn’t notice about me, and a lot of things I never noticed about you.” He then falls for Kelly (Cybill Shepherd) on his honeymoon, prompting him to break up with Lila in the middle of a restaurant.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">On the other hand, Jack Baker at least recognizes his flaws at the end of <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em>. Still, he is very much from the same mold of the self-loathing male. His speech consists of monosyllabic grunts. He hurts everyone he knows because he hates himself so much for not pursuing his dreams. When Susie tries to reason with him, he counters, “I didn’t know whores were so philosophical.” Like Lenny, he has no clue what he is doing with his life. Frank rightfully assesses, “You never could commit to anything, even a conversation.” However, <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> offers a much more hopeful, if not more unrealistic, ending. Jack realizes the error of his ways and makes amends for his hostile behavior. He will be okay, but Lenny will not. <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> does not really contribute anything unique or revolutionary to the genre, but its connection to <em>The Heartbreak Kid</em> highlights a very distinct evolutionary lineage in romantic comedies.<br /><br />All in all, <em>The Fabulous Baker Boys</em> remains an unremarkable, yet sufficiently endearing example of the modern romantic comedy. So while the film does break with tradition in the sense of focusing on two brothers, it sticks painfully close to conventions in every other respect. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-7440607800452872372008-02-12T23:10:00.004-06:002008-02-12T23:31:52.903-06:00Eternal Sunshine of the Music Video<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">This paper looks in-depth at Michel Gondry’s music video for the Foo Fighters’ song “Everlong.” Before he directed films, Gondry directed music videos very successfully and prolifically. A music video is a type of short film and can be executed creatively and artistically, and no one understands this better than Gondry. He is truly in a league of his own. The “Everlong” video is extremely experimental, and the paper explains the plot and technical choices in great detail to paint a picture of this extraordinary achievement for the reader. Parallels are drawn between Gondry and Spike Jonze, who also started in music videos before turning to film, and between the video and Gondry’s own decidedly experimental filmmaking.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In an interview on a collection of Michel Gondry’s work that features selections as eclectic as the director himself, he shyly speaks about making music videos in his charming and heavily-accented speech, “Because I’m French, I don’t really understand every word of the song. Especially when I listen to the track, I don’t really get most of the lyrics. I catch maybe 10% of the lyrics and then I recreate all the bridges between each word with my own universal…my own story.” Gondry, a director synonymous with experimental filmmaking, humbly continues, in a dialect that itself possesses a musical cadence, “But lucky enough, it kind of matches sometimes closer to what the singer had in mind of his own lyrics.” After watching his brilliant video for the Foo Fighters’ “Everlong,” made in 1997, it seems astounding that a talent of his caliber can still exude such grace and modesty. Beginning with a delightful parody of the Mentos commercials in their video for “Big Me,” the Foo Fighters exhibited a penchant for bizarre humor early in their musical career. This made them a perfect match for Michel Gondry’s own blend of non-linear narrative structure, humor, and surrealism. In his music video for the Foo Fighters’ “Everlong,” Michel Gondry breathtakingly translates his uniquely experimental visual style into a richly-layered story, and it also invites comparison to his other works and helps define his relationship to modern cinema.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When Michel Gondry said that he does not really comprehend the lyrics in the videos he directs, he mentioned it in a segment specifically about “Everlong.” However, he does not give himself enough credit, because the story he tells visually perfectly complements the song’s lyrics, even if it does not appear that way on the surface. The song, a catchy rock anthem of the late-90s, is essentially a love story about a man’s devotion to a woman and how he would wait “everlong” for her, as well as his acceptance of a real relationship with the impossibility of perfection. The video is also a love story at the core, albeit expressed in Gondry’s wonderfully warped way. To put it very simply, the video finds a couple (the man played by lead singer Dave Grohl and the woman played by drummer Taylor Hawkins in drag) asleep in bed, plagued by nightmares. In these dreams, the man must repeatedly rescue his “lady” love from two evil villains (played by the other band members, Pat Smear and Nate Mendel) in farcical situations straight out of horror films. They naturally vanquish their foes together, and then they both sleep peacefully.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">To signify a transition to a dream, Gondry employs a visual effect that looks like water cascading over the screen or like heavy rain on a window. The sleeping Grohl morphs into a very angry-looking Grohl dressed like a punk rocker, complete with tall, spiky hair. Now, he is at a party and the world is in color, but it looks sepia-toned. As the lyrics start, he makes his way through the throng of party-goers until he sees his love interest (Hawkins) being harassed by the two villains. Back in black and white reality, the emphasis shifts to the restless Hawkins and goes inside of her dream. In a comically remote cabin deep within the woods, she unsuspectingly reads a romance novel, the screen now bathed in a blue glow. Outside, her significant other gathers firewood, dressed in a brightly colored, impossibly nerdy striped shirt, his hair now slicked down innocently. Back inside, a hand reaches up through a door in the floor, and she screams, morphing into a furious Grohl at the party again, back in punk mode. The sepia tone has been replaced by a throbbing red hue that mirrors the ferocity on his face.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">If the video sound confusing, it is, and it is meant to be. This is the rare music video that challenges the audience to think. Similarly, experimental films, on some level, challenge the viewer by breaking with traditional narrative conventions. They celebrate bold and often radical innovation. And yes, to many people, experimental films are usually confusing. But a good experimental film builds upon that confusion and offers viewers a chance to seek personal insight and a deeper connection to the material, if they are willing to look. Like expressionism, these films inspire thoughts and emotions rather than provide logic. Based on these criteria, Michel Gondry’s “Everlong” video is unquestionably an experimental short film. He adapts elements of traditional genres, such as romantic comedy and horror, to a thoroughly surrealistic objective. Within this exploration of genres, he infuses the video with a distinct sense of nostalgia, clearly harkening back to films released in Hollywood’s Golden Age. Also, he completely obliterates any concept of a linear narrative. Dreams constantly mingle with reality, and the viewer can never really be certain if the reality is actually reality at all.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, the Foo Fighters’ video for “Everlong” remains one of Michel Gondry’s most astounding accomplishments in an increasingly impressive career. It also proves that music videos can be as experimental and cinematic, if not more so, than something that is simply called a film. In an interview about Gondry’s work, Dave Grohl explains the director’s motivation for including the giant hand in the video. Apparently, when he was a little boy, he used to have nightmares about his hands growing to a gigantic size, and his mother would have to come to his room to soothe him. Grohl muses, “Maybe he’s actually emotionally invested in the video so much that all of this represents something that he hasn’t explained to the band, much less anyone else…Maybe every one of his videos is some crazy nightmare or some phobia or something inside of him that he’s afraid to tell anybody and he just makes videos. He puts it into film.” This anecdote demonstrates a basic human sensitivity that any good director needs to have, and that Gondry has in abundance, as evidenced by his work. It also proves his sheer passion for filmmaking, no matter if it is a feature film or a five minute music video. Even though Michel Gondry may not understand English very well, he is fluent in the language of the human spirit.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-83547978909521438902008-01-30T16:18:00.001-06:002008-02-12T23:32:42.613-06:00Frank Capra, "Mr. Deeds," and the American Dream<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Frank Capra is the embodiment of the American Dream. He moved to America from Sicily as a young boy, and his early life was plagued by constant financial difficulties. It is no coincidence, then, that Capra’s films are as American as, well, apple pie. He worked his way up from nothing to attain success. He was grateful for the opportunities that America provided him, and he never took his fame and fortune for granted. In fact, his poor upbringing caused him to suffer from insecurities throughout his life. It was his firsthand experience with these issues that made him the spokesperson of Americana. He had empathy and compassion for his characters, and that is why his films are some of cinema’s most beloved classics. His pursuit and fulfillment of the American Dream also made him especially suitable for the romantic comedy genre, which he essentially invented. <em>Mr. Deeds Goes To Town</em> is the perfect reflection of Capra’s life and his trademark social consciousness and commentary.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While Capra had made romantic comedies before <em>Mr. Deeds Goes to Town</em>, it marked a break from his previous work in its explicit social commentary. “Beginning with <em>Mr. Deeds Goes to Town</em>, my films had to say something” (Capra 185). A staunch Republican, Capra “felt compelled to be more American than the Americans…Though he did not particularly enjoy his money or the possessions it could buy him, he cherished it as his protection against his humiliating immigrant past” (McBride 238). He astutely realized that Depression-era audiences sought reassurance and comfort. “It was despite his political views, not because of them, that Capra was capable of responding emotionally to the plight of the poor and unemployed in <em>Mr. Deeds</em>…” (McBride 339). Clearly, Capra understood the story because of his background, and <em>Mr. Deeds Goes to Town</em> fiercely celebrates the human spirit’s ability to overcome adversity.<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">All in all, Frank Capra has been praised and criticized for his sentimentality. He responded to the world as he saw it: “That was my needed job: Lift the human spirit” (Capra 203). He developed compassion and conviction as a result of his background, contrary to what his detractors say: “Capra truly wants to be generous – but, finally, he is too unadventurous, too fearful and self-protecting, to be good at it” (Harvey 159). He deserves more credit. <em>Mr. Deeds Goes to Town</em> works on a deeper level because of his personal connection with the story and his striking similarity to Longfellow Deeds. In his autobiography, he somberly reflects, “There is no greater punishment for a creative spirit than to wake up each morning knowing he is unneeded, unwanted, and unnecessary” (Capra 494). Truly, Frank Capra will never be any of those things.</span> </span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-39693931972663371852008-01-30T14:42:00.001-06:002008-02-12T23:33:04.213-06:00The Czech New Wave Experience<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">The Czech New Wave is perhaps the most overlooked national movement in the history of cinema. This paper gives the historical background and context of the Czech New Wave. During this time, in the late 1960s, Czechoslovakia was under stifling Communist control, and the New Wave filmmakers rebelled against this oppression by creating expressive works with a social conscience. The government banned many of their films and even forced some of the filmmakers out of the country. This was a distinctly Czech movement, but it also reflected trends in other national cinemas of the time. The Czech New Wave films are not easily categorized or definable. There are not really any common characteristics that are shared by all, except that they focused on diversity, emotions, personal expression, and social commentary.<br /><br />One of the most important and popular films of the period is Jiri Menzel’s Oscar-winning <em>Closely Watched Trains</em>, released in 1966. The film is so successful because it combines aspects of many genres, such as comedy, coming of age, and suspense, while still maintaining a traditional Hollywood linearity. The characters are interesting and three-dimensional, especially train dispatcher Milos, the young, self-conscious, confused protagonist. The film is visually and aesthetically stunning, and its seemingly straightforward narrative approach is deceptively brilliant in its deeper complexities.<br /><br />At the end of this paper, I share some personal insights about my time at Columbia and my thoughts on various questions raised by cinema, such as author films versus Hollywood films, the moral responsibilities of filmmakers, and my opinions on the Czech New Wave and what I learned from it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During the 1960s, Americans tackled the free speech movement, the civil rights movement, a cultural revolution, and the Vietnam War. However, the decade was characterized by social upheaval worldwide, and the Czech New Wave emerged as a result of the tension that gripped the country due to Communist control. “In the 1960s something interesting happened in Czechoslovakia. Artists started to realize that the aesthetics of social realism contrasted with the realities of their everyday lives…The films of the so-called Czech New Wave rose as a movement in response to the political and historical reality of Czechoslovakia” (Buchar 9). These filmmakers recognized the inherent dangers in Socialist Realism, which “is best understood in negative terms: by replacing genuine realism with an appearance of realism it prevents the contemplation of the human condition and the investigation of social issues” (Kenez, “Soviet” 55). The proponents of Socialist Realism simply hope that the art will act as a pacifier for the masses. Maybe if they see it in films and other artwork enough, they will start to believe it. Basically, the filmmakers of the Czech New Wave challenged the system and bravely exposed reality.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When discussing national film movements, perhaps none is more difficult to define than the Czech New Wave. There are no specific features that all of the films have in common, so the movement is really characterized by this diversity. For instance, <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> expresses a very basic story, while Vera Chytilova’s <em>The Fruit of Paradise</em> requires multiple viewings to even begin to break its code. Also, the filmmakers valued the emotional quality of art. These films tend to emphasize feelings more than typical narrative conventions. Unlike today’s greedy society, these directors made films for the sake of art and not to make money. They worked because they enjoyed it, and these filmmakers often collaborated on each other’s projects and formed a close and intimate community. In such a turbulent time, the Czechs never lost their sense of humor and “created a cinema of sharply observed social comedy” (Ellis 294). Comedy fused with allegory and satire to produce works such as <em>Daisies</em> and <em>Report on the Party and the Guests</em>. Some films take a more serious approach while still managing to comment on the problems in society, such as <em>Diamonds of the Night</em>. While the government tried to impose conformity on the country, the Czech New Wave celebrated individuality and self-expression.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">According to Josef Skvorecky, “I am convinced that the reason Jiri Menzel did such a superb job with Hrabal’s <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> lies in the fact that he himself is essentially Milos Hrma, the shy apprentice who unsuccessfully tries to make love to the pretty conductress Masa” (161). It seems that Menzel’s motivation to make the film stemmed from a personal attachment to the story and a sense of empathy with the characters. Additionally, he used the film to comment on the futility of war. “It is in subverting the stereotypes, showing everyone as human, war as absurd, and heroism as accidental that the film contrives to be both reassuring and thought-provoking” (Hames 179). Clearly, Menzel recognized the influential nature of film and the accompanying moral issues. <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> does not impose morality on the viewer forcefully; rather, it cleverly initiates a thought process by which the viewer will remember Menzel’s message. By diminishing the significance of the war in the film, he offers his criticism and passes moral judgment, effectively denouncing war and also any sort of totalitarian regime.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In spite of the comedic aspects, <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> also resembles a drama. For example, Milos is deeply tortured by his condition of premature ejaculation, and he struggles constantly with his insecurities. The ending of the film is certainly tragic, although that depends on how the viewer interprets Milos’ death. This film also functions on a suspenseful level, especially in the final scenes with the hearing for Hubicka’s behavior coinciding with the arrival of the doomed ammunition train. Most of all, <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> falls into the category of a coming-of-age film. During the course of the film, Milos must grow up and deal with his sexual issues and lack of self-confidence. It deals very candidly with the pressures of entering adulthood. At the beginning, Milos can barely speak to a woman, but at the end, he finds the courage to defy the Nazis and blow up a train, even if it results in his death. His inner journey to find peace, happiness, and self-discovery propels the story and matters more than the surrounding war. By including several different genre types and modifying them to suit the story, <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> offers something for every viewer.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Even though <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> seems like so many other films in its narrative structure, it is completely unique in its sensitive and honest treatment of the characters. Also, it stands out due to its gorgeous visual style, intelligent sense of humor, and thoughtful examination of humanity. Most importantly, this film just tells a story well, better than most films, and its simplicity is touching. Compared to other Czech New Wave films, <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> marks a distinct contrast, which probably accounts for its international acceptance. Many of the other films rely on an experimental style that involves disruptive editing, a frantic use of the camera, and a bombardment of images and sounds, like <em>Daisies</em> or <em>The Fruit of Paradise</em>. They often avoid conventional narrative storytelling at all costs, much like<em> Diamonds of the Night</em>. <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> differs from other Czech New Wave films because of its purity, simplicity, and the emphasis on a script and a story.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, the Czech New Wave is one of the most fascinating and complex movements in film history. It developed quickly as a result of the political and social atmosphere and initiated a period of unabashed originality. Jiri Menzel’s <em>Closely Watched Trains</em> still resonates today as a powerful and poignant representation of the period’s intense creativity. Unfortunately, the Czech New Wave is also one of the most underappreciated movements, barely even mentioned in film history textbooks. Conditioned by the blatant nature of Hollywood that requires no imagination whatsoever, many people are simply unwilling to devote any energy to understanding these demanding films. For people willing to make the effort, though, the Czech New Wave films offer a completely unusual and rewarding experience that allows the viewer to glimpse the tumultuous history of Czechoslovakia.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-11030916326387112292008-01-29T20:39:00.007-06:002008-03-10T12:47:30.634-05:00Dare To Be Different: The Story of Vera Chytilova<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">During a period of cinematic innovation known as the Czech New Wave, Vera Chytilova emerged as one of the movement's leading figures, as well as one of its only women. In accordance with the goals of the Czech New Wave, Chytilova utilized allegory and satire to make challenging, expressive, and often abstract films. Her two most renowned and important films are <em>Daisies</em> and <em>The Fruit of Paradise</em>. Chytilova's feisty, feminist, indomitable spirit endures in her work and her legacy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In her career, <em>Daisies</em> (1966) and <em>The Fruit of Paradise</em> (1969) are unquestionably her most famous, thought-provoking, and significant films. <em>Daisies</em> features two girls who wreak havoc on society. By commenting on the self-destructive nature of society itself, the film works as a powerful satire while also offering a highly aesthetic viewing experience. A biblical allegory presented in the form of a symphony, <em>The Fruit of Paradise</em> relies less on plot and more on the blending of symbolism, image, and sound into a unified whole. While these films brought her considerable success and acclaim, she suffered the same fate as other filmmakers following the invasion and was not allowed to make films again until 1976. She still works on films today, as well as teaching directing at the Film Academy (Buchar 71).</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Throughout her own life, she stood up for her beliefs and made sure that her voice was heard, as she undoubtedly still does today. As a strong woman, she brought a unique perspective to her films, which may contribute to their lasting appeal. “In a true feminist tradition Vera combined intensive intellectual effort with a feminine feeling for beauty and form” (Skvorecky 112).</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-86311800998394663112008-01-29T20:14:00.001-06:002008-02-12T23:33:39.818-06:00"Cashback" and the Superficial Supermarket<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"><em>Cashback</em>, an Oscar-nominated narrative short film written and directed by Sean Ellis and released in 2004, explores the concepts of time and beauty by focusing on the ennui of the night shift at a grocery store. Sound clever? Unfortunately, it is not. Ellis had the chance to make something witty and insightful, because everyone can relate to the idea of time passing ever so slowly. However, he decided to make a sexist exploitation film in the guise of art. The main character is Ben, an art student. His way of passing the time is to imagine the world frozen, on pause so to speak. During this intermission, he wanders amongst the preposterously gorgeous female customers, now naked for his viewing pleasure. He and Ellis pretend this is all in the name of art, since Ben loves sketching the female body. Instead, it comes off as invasive and perverted, nothing more than cheap pornography. While the film is aesthetically inventive and impressive, its message is utterly offensive. <em>Cashback</em> also reflects society’s obsession with youth and a distinct, unrealistic standard of beauty.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Despite its innumerable flaws, <em>Cashback</em> looks stunning. Ellis manages to capture the ennui of the setting through the hypnotically buzzing fluorescent lighting that eerily bathes the store. The viewer can practically see the lighting sucking the life out of these employees. <em>Cashback</em> begins with a remarkable tracking shot across the drab beige ceiling, punctuated by the loud, echoing beep of the register. Similar skill is exhibited in the expert Steadicam shot of Barry’s clueless face as he rides around the store on his scooter. Being an artist, Ben stares at a bag of spilled peas on the speckled cream linoleum. This is perhaps the film’s most beautiful shot, a mass of neon green specks that looks both haphazard and orderly. In fact, the shot recalls pointillism and a work like Georges Seurat’s <em>A Sunday on La Grande Jatte</em>. The audience sees this mess through a painter’s eyes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Suddenly, Ben emerges from the ethereal blue glow of his Swedish goddess. A red glow engulfs the screen, and the audience is transported back to the store, accompanied by solemn classical music. Evidently, that red glow was some sort of magic clothing removal device, because all of the women in the store are now completely naked. He creepily moves amongst the perfect mannequins, wondering in voiceover, “And would it be wrong? Would they hate me? For seeing them? I mean, really seeing them?” The notion that their naked bodies can define their worth and beauty as human beings is not only shallow, it is blatantly insulting. Naturally, as an artist, he intensely sketches them. Their immobility only enhances this disgusting objectification of women. Nothing could possibly be as invasive as this kid staring at women while they have no control over themselves. He is basically raping them with his eyes and his sketch pad. They are utterly powerless and defenseless, and they will undoubtedly emerge from this experience feeling dirty and wanting to take a long shower and not knowing why. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Unfortunately, Ellis squandered the film’s potential. It could have been playful and funny, because everyone can relate to the idea of time dragging. Ben, in his disaffected way, occasionally offers some astute observations: “When you fall asleep, you are unaware of sleeping until you awake.” Due to the exploitative nature of the film’s final minutes, it is difficult to determine the filmmaker’s intentions or to extricate any themes. One can reasonably guess that Ellis is commenting on the nature of time, both its transience and permanence, as well as reflecting on beauty and its necessity. But his idea of beauty is limited, at best, so that might be giving him too much credit. Every single naked woman is a size two or less and looks like a supermodel. Is this really the definitive standard of beauty? Beauty can be found in anything, like the peas spilled on the floor. As an artist, Ben should not be so narrow-minded in his assessment of beauty. He should go look at a sunset or maybe pick some flowers; after all, they are clichés for a reason. There is more to the world than young, nubile women.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">All in all, <em>Cashback</em> is visually and technically remarkable, but it lacks depth and substance. Ironically, it is as one-dimensional and surface-oriented as those caricatures of women frozen in their resplendent nudity that it so wholeheartedly embraces. It looks good on the outside, just like the women, and the rest is shallow, superficial, and inconsequential. This film is as tasteless, degrading, and utterly misogynistic as anything out there. Pornography masquerading as art is still pornography. Ben is a pathetic, loathsome scourge on society who desperately needs to find a new hobby. He commands no sympathy or empathy whatsoever, so the film leaves the viewer completely empty and unfulfilled. In <em>Cashback</em>, Ben freezes time to make it pass more quickly. If only the audience possessed that same ability, because never has fifteen minutes felt so interminable. If the point of the film is to make the viewer feel like time has stopped, mission accomplished.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-52178531897096131592008-01-29T18:48:00.002-06:002008-02-12T23:33:54.800-06:00Spike Lee Joints<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In Spike Lee’s career, <em>Do the Right Thing</em> and <em>Bamboozled</em> are two of his most provocative attacks on racism. His angry stance on racial prejudice is similar and evident in both films, but he employs very different narrative and aesthetic methods to make his points. Released in 1989, <em>Do the Right Thing</em>, one of Lee’s first films, is much more raw, fiery, and confrontational. <em>Bamboozled</em>, released in 2000, is a satire that utilizes more sophisticated techniques. These two films highlight a progression in Spike Lee’s career and reveal him as a true auteur. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpt:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Even though <em>Do the Right Thing</em> and <em>Bamboozled</em> are both Lee masterpieces about racism, the time gap in between them allows the viewer to discern a notable evolution in his filmmaking. With <em>Do the Right Thing</em>, Lee was just starting out, and his youthful energy pulsates off the screen. It is not an immature film by any means, but there is something very fresh and raw about it. His anger is obvious, as furious as the flames that engulf Sal’s pizza shop. <em>Bamboozled</em> displays more sophistication and subtlety - narratively and aesthetically. It takes place in the corporate world, one he was very much a part of at this point in his career, and his views on corruption are evident. It is not literally in the viewer’s face like <em>Do the Right Thing</em>, but it is just as poignant and socially conscious because of the brilliantly nuanced satire. <em>Do the Right Thing</em> basically introduced Spike Lee to the world, and <em>Bamboozled</em>, with a different approach, proved he was not going anywhere.</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-26449493576998604602008-01-19T18:38:00.003-06:002008-03-09T12:49:32.798-05:00The Evolution of Audrey Hepburn: From Princess to Nun to Wife<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPNUWwuyAyYo9LWfywC-q2ebbcM7trGK_2VgktSjUHX4ndHm45AczwLHXEtA8sONTMpaIW7P1Y7TvGJfCnJLGoURkSERAXqoDP-c-7vZBXoRh8_fFhpkYJe8ptilrbqz8R-AmSO9twnfL/s1600-h/audreypink.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157352475639719842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUPNUWwuyAyYo9LWfywC-q2ebbcM7trGK_2VgktSjUHX4ndHm45AczwLHXEtA8sONTMpaIW7P1Y7TvGJfCnJLGoURkSERAXqoDP-c-7vZBXoRh8_fFhpkYJe8ptilrbqz8R-AmSO9twnfL/s320/audreypink.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Abstract:</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In her first major starring role, Audrey Hepburn burst onto the world stage with an Oscar-winning performance as Princess Ann in <em>Roman Holiday</em>. She is most famous for these fairy tale roles, but she proved, from the very start, that she was a serious actress with enormous talent. The evolution of her career and her screen persona can be traced throughout three films – <em>Roman Holiday</em>, <em>The Nun’s Story</em>, and <em>Two for the Road</em>. In <em>Roman Holiday</em>, she defined the role of the gamine. <em>The Nun’s Story</em>, a very subdued drama in which she plays a nun struggling with her faith, marked a drastic departure. While <em>Two for the Road</em> was not her last film, it represents the peak of her career. It is her best and most mature performance. She plays Joanna, a very real woman with flaws dealing with the breakdown of her marriage. The sections on the individual films focus on detailed descriptions of her performances, as well as the differences in the personas. There is also biographical research and analysis, as these films point to and often parallel aspects of her personal life, such as her not-so-innocent childhood in Nazi-occupied Holland, her charity work, and her own children and relationships, including a marriage that was falling apart while she was making <em>Two for the Road</em>. <em>Roman Holiday</em>, <em>The Nun’s Story</em>, and <em>Two for the Road</em> are arguably the three most significant achievements in a tremendous career and display her growth as an actress and a person. Her influence, as a movie star and as a human being, is simply unmatched.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">On the surface, <em>Roman Holiday</em> might appear to be the quintessential lighthearted romance, but in fact, it “may have been the first romantic comedy with an unhappy ending” (Harris 91). It was also her first major introduction to the world in an American film. Under the skilled direction of William Wyler, Hepburn deservedly won the Oscar for Best Actress. Tired of her responsibilities, Princess Ann asserts her independence by venturing out into Rome alone. Unfortunately, this outing is hampered by the effects of a tranquilizer given to her by her doctor after she throws a tantrum in defiance of duty. When reporter Joe Bradley, played by Gregory Peck, meets Ann, she is lying face down on a bench. Nearly catatonic, she still remembers her manners. Almost falling off the bench, Joe catches her, and she spouts the pleasantries, “Thank you very much. Delighted. No, thank you. Charmed.” Looking up at him, Hepburn nods slightly in assessment and flicks her hand in a casual, yet assertive, way. “You may sit down,” she mumbles dismissively. Hepburn convincingly conveys the debilitating effects of a tranquilizer while at the same time showing how ingrained Ann’s royal duties are in her.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">By the end of their magical day together, Joe and Ann have, of course, fallen in love, but Princess Ann grimly chooses her life of duty over love. In the presence of her advisers, she stiffens, her jaw set firmly, and crisply spits at them, her voice somber with emotion, “Were I not completely aware of my duty to my family and my country, I would not have come back tonight. Or, indeed, ever again.” This is a completely different Ann from the wide-eyed, spoiled girl who jumps around on her bed and throws tantrums at the start of the film. She has grown up, and that naiveté is gone. Duty has a high price, but she accepts her fate with cool resolve. Hepburn expresses Ann’s radical transformation and pain with her cynical tone, firm expression, and watery eyes. At a press interview the next day, where Ann discovers Joe’s true identity as a reporter (his love has, naturally, caused him to abandon his scoop on her), she is asked which city she enjoyed the most. She starts to reply diplomatically, but her true feelings come out, “Rome. By all means, Rome. I will cherish my visit here in memory as long as I live.” A smile crosses her face as she says this confidently, looking right at Joe. Hepburn’s voice is deliberate and full of emotion, and her face brightens as Ann vocalizes her love in veiled terms. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In addition to her fragile home life, Hepburn contended with World War II firsthand while living in Holland. “For five long and appalling years, from the time she was eleven until she was sixteen, Audrey lived under the Nazi occupation of Arnhem in conditions of terror, poverty, and deprivation…” (Morley 18). The war inflicted emotional trauma on Hepburn, but it took a toll on her physically, as well. “The malnutrition that Audrey suffered throughout the war also permanently affected her metabolism…Just keeping herself from becoming too thin was a lifelong struggle” (Harris 45). All of these experiences forced Hepburn to grow up fast, and the sweet innocence she portrays so convincingly in her films conceals maturity and wisdom. Despite these hard times, she managed to retain a fabulous sense of humor. While in an elevator with ex-fiancé James Hanson, two women were speaking Dutch about Hepburn, and they figured they were safe since no one else could possibly understand Dutch. “`We didn’t say a word to each other, but just before we got out, she rattled a stream of Dutch at me as if I was just as much a native speaker as she. They had been talking about her in a rather bitchy way, and they were in shock as we got out’” (qtd. in Paris 74). This example demonstrates her uncanny ability to make the best out of any situation.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">With <em>The Nun’s Story</em>, Audrey Hepburn dramatically altered her screen persona. “Having played mostly ingenues and Cinderellas to date, Hepburn decided it was time to prove herself as a serious dramatic actress in a part that submerged her own sunny personality beneath a much deeper set of emotions” (Paris 142). Directed by Fred Zinnemann, Hepburn delivers a remarkably restrained performance, but that restraint makes it more powerful. She relies on her voice, gestures, and facial expressions to convey a raging inner struggle. The character of Sister Luke (originally Gabrielle van der Mal) possesses independence in a vocation that requires blind obedience. Right away, it is obvious that Sister Luke is not the typical nun. While prostrating herself on the floor, Hepburn peeks up at her superior over her folded arms, while all of the other nuns-in-training are looking at the ground. Upon eye contact, Sister Luke hastily places her head down. With her tentative and curious expression, Hepburn captures Sister Luke’s true spirit.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When her father visits her after she returns from the Congo, he expresses concern over her emotional well-being. He asks how she is “in here,” indicating his heart. Her tired face plastered with a peaceful smile, she pauses and averts her eyes before countering, “How are you in there?” With this question, she playfully touches his chest. Hepburn makes Sister Luke’s coy dismissal effective with a very powerful gesture, one of the best in the entire film. World War II continues to strain Sister Luke’s faith, but when her father is killed by Nazis, that is her final breaking point. She can no longer deny who she is, and she decides that she will be more useful helping the war effort. In the final poignant shot of the film, after Sister Luke changes out of her religious garments and becomes Gabrielle again, Hepburn slowly walks out of the open door into the world. The camera remains steady as she walks, and each step feels heavy with meaning. At the end of the street, Hepburn hesitates briefly, but then she confidently turns right and walks away, expressing Gabrielle’s defiant approval of her choice. In <em>The Nun’s Story</em>, Audrey Hepburn’s performance is all about control and restraint. While it is probably her most subdued role, it is certainly one of her most powerful, because she expresses so much with so little. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In <em>Two for the Road</em>, Audrey Hepburn delivers the most complex performance of her career. Director Stanley Donen “calls <em>Two for the Road</em> the first Audrey Hepburn movie to deal with the aftermath rather than the initial euphoria of falling in love” (Paris 234). The film spans twelve years in the marriage of Mark (Albert Finney) and Joanna Wallace, but their story is cleverly told out of sequence, leaping around in time and space. The audience receives clues in the form of hair, clothing, and car models, but it really forces the viewer to pay close attention and make connections, creating a rewarding viewing experience. As Joanna Wallace, Hepburn shows off her skill and range. After she meets Mark, all of her traveling companions have come down with chicken pox, and when the final unaffected one starts to scratch, Hepburn teases her. She just says the girl’s name, Jackie, but she draws it out in a mocking, accusatory tone. Then, she starts to make clucking noises like a chicken, getting shriller with every cluck. Finally, her clucks trail off into laughter. This scene wonderfully highlights her playfulness.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">When Joanna returns to Mark after having an affair, Hepburn creates a heartbreaking portrait of a truly repentant woman. He is stubborn at first, so she keeps trying. Her face contorted with pain, she insists in a choked voice, “Mark, I’m back!” He tells her that she has returned after humiliating him. She stares at him intensely, pleading, and then she nods her head, beginning to cry. Through her tears, she practically gasps, “That’s right.” Just when everything seems okay, Mark makes a snide comment the way husbands do, and Joanna runs outside. When he follows her, he ends up tripping and falling into the pool. As this happens, Hepburn expresses so much with facial expressions. She looks at him, furrows her brow, bites her lip, and cocks her head to the side, smiling. In addition to looking apologetic, her face is a mixture of love, adoration, and pity that the poor jerk fell into the pool. Hepburn is astounding in her ability to convey such a wide range of emotions in such a short period of time.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">At the end of the film, Joanna and Mark have basically realized that their marriage may not be perfect, but they are perfect for each other. In the final scene, Mark frantically searches for his passport in the car. As he looks in the trunk, Joanna calmly places it on the steering wheel. When he sees it, it prompts one of the most poignant and appropriate endings in film history. He challenges, “Bitch.” She replies, with a note of amusement in her voice, “Bastard.” These words, the perfect terms of endearment for them, are said very affectionately, almost like foreplay. Actually, the fact that she always has his passport (this is not the first time he misplaced it in the film) sums up their relationship, because marriage is about the little things just like that. Almost forty years after its release, <em>Two for the Road</em> is still relevant and incredibly truthful. Everyone who has been in a serious relationship has gone through the same euphoria, uncertainty, and pointless arguments. In this film, Hepburn wears a bathing suit, talks about sex, has an affair, and even swears, quite a contrast from a princess and a nun. However, her biggest achievement in <em>Two for the Road</em> is portraying the most realistic character of her career, complete with human vulnerabilities, in a truly mature and sincere performance. In fact, even though it was not her last film, <em>Two for the Road</em> represents the culmination of the evolution of her screen persona.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">In one of her most uninhibited moments in a film, Audrey Hepburn, as Joanna Wallace, blasts Albert Finney with water from the shower head and demands to know, “Do you love me? Do you? Do you?” How can the answer be anything but a resounding yes?</span><br /><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602611895329570318.post-80157646922011537052008-01-19T10:48:00.001-06:002008-02-12T23:34:53.747-06:00Portraiture and Propaganda: Comparing Hadrian to an Apostle<span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">Paper Abstract: </span><br /></span><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">Written for a survey art history course covering the Stone Age to the Gothic period, this paper examines two different pieces found in the Art Institute of Chicago in order to find similarities and differences between the cultures that produced them. The two works are both busts, one entitled <em>Portrait Head of the Emperor Hadrian</em> (from the height of the Roman Empire) and the other <em>Head of an Apostle</em> (French Gothic). Each displays a unique approach to depicting the human head in accordance with its respective culture, and the specific facial features are analyzed in-depth. While created almost a thousand years apart, these works both functioned as tools of propaganda (one secular and one religious) in society. Overall, despite the obvious physical differences, both works share a fascination with mortality, human representation, power structures, and propaganda.</span><br /></span><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">Paper Excerpts:</span> </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlqxtJUM5KCJ6wMnsKN2UPaWMs6hJINoDjHDgFSTe_gGBmiFB2doOefQdFPR_ZDuXg_ONERoZ1BURcOP5IY26zzAQelCY9ITvDnMgmP_yw9S-O9bdPUUER58WdHomlVvDRDrQDrYTlw7Y/s1600-h/4725_174262.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157235485025543906" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlqxtJUM5KCJ6wMnsKN2UPaWMs6hJINoDjHDgFSTe_gGBmiFB2doOefQdFPR_ZDuXg_ONERoZ1BURcOP5IY26zzAQelCY9ITvDnMgmP_yw9S-O9bdPUUER58WdHomlVvDRDrQDrYTlw7Y/s320/4725_174262.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">Upon looking at <em>Portrait Head of the Emperor Hadrian</em>, there is no doubt that this is a specific, individual person. The features are rendered naturalistically, such as the thick and curly hair on top of his head covering half of his intricately carved ears. The wavy lines indicating the locks twist tightly in an intricate pattern and give the impression of lush, silky, soft texture. While his beard and the faint moustache above his upper lip are carefully trimmed and very short in comparison to the hair cascading generously from his head, this facial hair adds additional texture to the sculpture. His beard and moustache, neat but also rugged, lend him an air of masculinity and dominance, perfect for a strong Roman emperor looking to impress his subjects.</span><br /></span><span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#333333;">As far as Hadrian’s expression, he exudes the confidence required of a leader. His eyes, narrow and focused, gaze intently at the world. They appear lifelike because “during Hadrian’s reign sculptors began to incise the contours of the irises and bore holes for the pupils” (Art Institute of Chicago “Label for <em>Portrait Head of the Emperor Hadrian</em>”). The irises and the pupils lend the head an eerie quality, like Hadrian is watching the viewer. His thin and delicate eyebrows press together in consternation, which creates a dimple in the space between the eyebrows. While he exhibits the strain of his job in his serious and mildly anxious expression, he mostly looks firm and unyielding. His lips are pursed together tightly in resolution. His mouth also turns down a bit and is puckered at the corners, yet there is something smug about his expression. But above all, a Roman emperor could not be too accessible. Successful propaganda involves presenting a tough exterior in addition to instilling fear and awe in people, and Hadrian’s expression perfectly captures that combination of authority and intimidation.</span> </span><br /><br /></p></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0P4mHM_5NJnMMB3u7S91rwsFKrDrLCYMT8PZ354SC-YY5JRm94BueEWl8A4OACZ9VY5wzs4BJHMmDRElYBWaPYdMer45UgopJon6HZIQ9qQJelWQWoS6li0W3NlzhVUpg-RCsqiCVAROE/s1600-h/2513_190928.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157235485025543922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0P4mHM_5NJnMMB3u7S91rwsFKrDrLCYMT8PZ354SC-YY5JRm94BueEWl8A4OACZ9VY5wzs4BJHMmDRElYBWaPYdMer45UgopJon6HZIQ9qQJelWQWoS6li0W3NlzhVUpg-RCsqiCVAROE/s320/2513_190928.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">While <em>Head of an Apostle</em> displays naturalistic tendencies, the emphasis of the sculpture is clearly on symbolism rather than reality, because his proportions are strikingly distorted. The focus of this work is the spiritual and meditative nature of the subject, not the realistic portrayal of the human anatomy. His elongated face seems to droop with its own immense weight, like his whole face has been stretched out. The unrealistic proportions cause him to look emaciated, and his cheeks are sunken and hollow where his massive cheekbones harshly mark his flesh, which seems thinly spread over the bones. Due to the distortion of his features and proportions, the apostle achieves a hieratic, otherworldly presence. At the same time, the deliberate, almost ghoulish, deformation of his face makes him incredibly intimidating, a truly fitting representation for a Last Judgment portal depicting hell and horror. </span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;"><br /></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#333333;">Particularly appropriate for a Last Judgment portal, the expression on the <em>Head of an Apostle</em> is incredibly judgmental. In fact, his stare is almost chilling in its intensity. Certainly, no viewer would escape his gaze. His haggard and weary features make him look old and tired. While he appears cold and unforgiving, he is basically practicing a form of tough love by shocking the viewer into action. This sculpture is expressionistic in the deliberate attempt to elicit an emotional reaction from the viewer. Viewers would undoubtedly have been frightened by the imposing scene before them on the doorway and would have entered the church eager to accept God and find redemption for their sins. By distorting otherwise naturalistic features and depicting a spiritual figure in a disturbing way in order to influence viewers, <em>Head of an Apostle</em> confirms that propaganda even has a place in religion.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="color:#333333;"><br/></span></p>Lisa Draskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07508248567575835375noreply@blogger.com0