To dash or to die

In a recent post on our latest blockbuster serial, David Bordwell writes:

The Bourne Ultimatum belongs to a trend of rough-edged stylization sometimes called run-and-gun. The film has been described as bare-bones but it’s actually quite flashy. All the crashing zooms (accompanied by whams on the soundtrack), jittery shots, drifting framings, uncompleted pans, freeze-frame flashbacks, and other extroverted devices call attention to themselves.

I couldn’t agree more. And I remember, when I came out of the theater several weeks ago, I was almost certain that most people got the message.

How to interpret it, however, is a different story.

There are still many people don’t like it; they are the mainstay that adamantly object to The Dancer in the Dark and Breaking the Waves, despite the splendid narrative.

There is a lesser part of the audience which regard themselves as more “educated”. These people are more open to aesthetic manifestations and highbrow ideas—they probably even attend film school at a certain point in their life. These people, including some of the local newspaper columnists, rotten tomatoes contributors, find reason to praise this stylization as a welcomed addition to the action genre: it is a cinema-vérité popcorn! (According to Bordwell, the director, Greengrass, even mentioned The Battle of Algiers)

There is yet another part of the audience, even lesser in percentage, that is suspicious of this stylization and afterwards inquire about its aesthetic validity. Bordwell is one among them.

Bordwell is a brilliant scholar. He takes everything seriously. You can disagree with him, but most of the time you just don’t have the range of evidence he has. For this case, he points out, the Bourne Ultimatum consists of approximately 3200 shots. How the hell does he get to know that?

But the gist of the post is that Bordwell points out, as he was told in Hong Kong, “The handheld camera covers three mistakes: Bad acting, bad set design, and bad directing.”

Again, I couldn’t agree more. And I want to add, there is one more thing that the handheld camera covers: the camera movement itself.

But then an idea occurred to me: if handheld camera does indeed cover bad things (there is practically nothing left, except the story itself), would it also cover the good things, i.e., good acting, good directing? Take Breaking the Waves, does the hazardous camera movement covers everything that is good in this film (I personally believe that everything else in this film is good)? I mean, if I were the cameraman of Breaking the Waves, would the film still be that amazing? Probably. But certainly not the Element of Crime.

So how can the handheld camera reveal the good and cover the bad? This apparently doesn’t make sense, which reminds me of another story:

Years ago, when Zhang Yimou’s first city film, Keep Cool (1997) came out, it was criticized of bad handheld technique. And I remember people compared it (the DOP is Lü Yue) to what Christopher Doyle did for Wang Kawai, and to find that the latter is obviously superior. I personally believe it is impossible to tell one handheld camera from another. Therefore I was surprised to learn that some people actually claim they can. But honestly, isn’t this a typical impressionistic observation where the evaluation of subject matter contaminates that of the technique? Where would these people say to Doyle’s own film, Away with Words (1999), which is packed with flashy camera techniques?

In the end my perspective can be resumed as this:

1. The handheld camera is in itself neutral. Although it is flashy, calling attention to itself, this does necessarily signify an artistic failure or success.
2. Handheld is a style, yet it is not a personal style. If it does require some expertise, it is not the usual expertise we attribute to a cinematographer.
3. Handheld certainly covers the mise en scène. With the use of handheld, mise en scène is less needed. But I would be cautious to say that it also covers acting.

The image of man

A few weeks ago, I spotted The Godfather trilogy on television. The reviewing did not change my impression of either the story or the talent of Coppola, Brando, De Niro, Pacino, etc. But wait a minute! Isn’t this Franco Citti, the famous Accattone? What is he doing here in a Hollywood epic?

It turns out that I was prejudiced toward what an actor/actress can be associated with a certain sub-category of the cinema. These categories exist in our mind, for sure, but they are not necessarily the same for an actor agency. What I perceive as totally incompatible are in fact totally compatible. The proof? A very same person, the most concrete reality before any analytical conceptive intervention, can appear in both of them and remain convincingly vivid.

Last night, when I was looking at Hannah and Her Sisters, I had a similar revelation. This time, however, the link established by the person actually confirms a hypothetic link between two “compatible” phenomena. I am talking about Elaine Benes from Seinfeld. Did you notice that she appeared as an assistant to the television show producer, played by nobody else but Woody Allen?

It has been long pointed out the connection between these two. I have mentioned elsewhere that Seinfeld has some aspects of an auteur television. I realize this claim may create serious theoretical problems for the auteur adherents. But hell! Desplechin is on my side.

I expect the same thing will happen more and more often, when I get to know the faces better. Ultimately any mediocre production would be like a revelation which tells me not only more about this particular face, but all the stories associated with it. This is a typical cinéphile passion, one says. And rightly so. Because there is something essential, mysterious behind this passion that cares about the screen presence—what is the image of man?

Nothing to Lose

You have heard of Moon River. You probably know Henry Mancini. But it is unlikely that you know who is Claudine Longet.

Not a big deal. Just another innocent-looking French girl—the mindless BB type. I spotted her in The Party (1968, vintage year), playing guitar and singing a beautiful Nothing to Lose, while Peter Sellers, dressed in a pink suit two sizes short, is looking desperately for a bathroom. Probably it was the French accent. Probably it was her eyes, which remind me of Irene Jacob.

Her voice is definitely easy listening. No technique whatsoever. I wonder why she was able to churn out seven albums. Probably because her first husband, Andy Williams.

That which grows out of love, will die in love.

When Williams dumped her in 1970, she managed to strike up with a Olympic skier named Spider Sabich. Finally, when Sabich wanted to dump her again, she shot him dead. She wasn’t convicted for the crime, though. But her career was ruined afterwards. More than that. She was practically banned from the music industry—her albums are never re-released and her songs are never included in any compilations of the sixties.

Never mind. This very song will last for the next century.

Nothing to lose

--Henry Mancini/Don Black

Nothing to lose
If we are wise
We're not expecting rainbow-colored skies
Not right away

Nothing to lose
It might be fun
No talk of spending lifetimes in the sun
Although we may

Both you and I have seen what time can do
We'll only hurt ourselves if we build dreams that don't come true

What can we lose
We know the score
Let's wait before we talk of evermore
One day we may

Nothing to lose
But much to gain if love decides to stay

Nothing to lose

车站后面(reverdy)

一朵云彩下降

至一空空荡荡

靠近我

一个洞

远处某事完成

喧闹止歇

而我看这熙熙攘攘

脑中有一个疯狂的世界

这就是你

而我不再能认出任何人

何种生活

还不算完

额头上深深的一道皱纹

有如水晶般的透明

指尖的某种东西让我难受

当我认出你

当我抓住你

一定是某件东西落下

一套假首饰

而你甚至未能看见我的身影

门转动着

有人笑着

如此遥远

现在，该去哪里消亡？

P.O. Midi

par Pierre Reverdy

On passe comme des boeufs
Sur le quai les lumières s’allongent et les yeux
Le wagon tourne sur la roue du milieu

Les chevelures se dressent dans la nuit
Les mot qui passent font du bruit

Je voudrais m’arrêter pour regarder dehors
Au fond il y a un home tranquille qui s’endort
Je voudrais voir dedans
Le train qui nous emporte est immobile dans le vent

On entend

On entend crier
C’est un oiseau de nuit
La montagne avale tout
Tout ceux qui ont peur sont debout
Les autres dorment
On descend l’autre côté du monde
On glisse dans un trou qui n’a pas de fond
On est content de s’en aller
Le ciel se fond

Et un petit clocher se dresse au bord de la mer

my share of obssession: on a few French actresses

No. 1: Falconetti (1892-1946)

Notable appearance: The Passion of Joan of Arc (Dreyer 1928)

There are people who play in a hundred films and are soon forgotten; and there are those who play in only one film and leave an indelible impression in the history of cinema. The case of Falconetti exemplifies this second category.

The name Falconetti is obviously Italian, as she was born in Semanu, a village (the population of which is said to be around eighty) located in the mountainous interior of Corsica. The language spoken there is a form of Italian dialect. As Falconetti moved to France, she adopted stage names as Renee, Maria, or Jeanne, both popular French maiden names. But her birth name is said to be Rinalda.

Falconetti is listed here not because she is beautiful, but for something else extremely rare, namely, the image of woman as martyr, as saint. Speaking of woman saint, you may have your own preferable one, for instance, Virgin Mary, a really nice lady. But did Mary did anything remarkable except taking care of her own child? Was this enough to qualify her as the object of centuries’ worship? Did she not live in peace (she did lament for a while) after her child our lord was taken from her? … Ok, stop. I just want to say that la petite Jeanne’s case is different. She was called upon to accomplish a mission which is far beyond her means as a young village girl. And by miracle she did save the peace-loving France from greedy English invaders. What is the reward? To be burned on stakes, this horrible destiny she could have avoided with a simplest nod. Where did she amass the courage to lead an army and to face her own death,? Did she ever have a moment of doubt like Jesus had? …Ok, Ok. I just want to say, Dreyer successfully established the image of Falconetti as a real saint. And as if to confirm this image, her life became a myth.

There are basically two mysteries concerning Falconetti that interest me. Why she was chosen by Dreyer? Why she dropped off screen since, after such a breathtaking performance? Other biographical questions have also been asked: why she left France for Argentine? Who fathered her daughter, etc. but I believe they probably have not much to do with her screen career.

2. Delphine Seyrig (1932-1990)

Notable appearance:

Jeanne Dielman (Akerman 1976)

India Song (Duras 1975)

The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Bunuel 1972)

The Stolen Kisses (Truffaut 1968)

Muriel (Resnais 1963)

Last Year in Marienbad (Resnais 1961)

Seyrig was, in my opinion, the ultimate balance between what is elegant and what is seductive. Yet under her subservient appearance, she engaged herself in militant activities throughout the late seventies. In certain ways, you can compare her to Joan Crawford and Jane Fonda, two other well-known actress-turned-feminists. But unlike these two, who probably injected a large dose of virilis mulieris as the result of fighting for women’s right (which is certainly a justified cause), Seyrig remained extremely feminine.

3. Charlotte Gainsbourg (1971-)

Notable appearance:

L’Effrontée (Miller 1985)

La petite voleuse (Miller 1988)

The Cement Garden (Birkin, 1993)

Gainsbourg is still in present tense. Her career is going steadily, with a healthy mixture of French, European and Hollywood production. But what I prefer is her nymphal stage, as shown in two Claude Miller films and the one made by her uncle Andrew Birkin.

4.Brigitte Fossey (1946-)

Notable appearance:

Un mauvais fils (Sautet 1980)

Quintet (Altman 1979)

L'Homme qui aimait les femmes (Truffaut 1977)

Les valseuses (Blier 1974)

Jeux Interdits (Clément 1952)

Fossey I believe exemplifies what I call “the unbearable inner passion”. If she tried harder, she would have been what Adjani is ten years earlier, or at least another Jeanne Moreau. After all, she started a career at the age of six.

5. Juliette Gréco (1927-)

Notable appearance:

Crack in the Mirror (Fleischer 1960)

The Roots of Heaven (Huston 1958)

Quand tu lira cette lettre (Melville 1953)

Orphée (Cocteau 1950)

Greco is never a successful actress. And she seldom played leading roles. I don’t know why. Perhaps it has to do with her almost always impassive and… frigid look. But that can be turned into her advantage given the right story. In comparison, Dietrich is also a bad actress (judging by the range of characters she can portrait convincingly), but her screen presence is more readily acknowledged. P.S. I was wondering why feminists haven’t say anything about this.

Television and after

Contrary to the prevailing view that “made for television” signifies an amateurish look, television programs today can be technically quite complex. MTV and TV commercials for instance, involve carefully executed and expensive (dolly & crane) shots, meticulous lighting and décor, intensive post-processing and precise editing. Similarly, successful TV series are no longer the type we see in Seinfeld or Friends, which consist of all studio shooting (mostly American plans), synchronized sound and no action or special effects at all. Today’s TV series (Prison Break, Heroes, Lost) use extensive location shooting, an effective combination of all ranges of shots, lots of actions & special effects, and finally, a very complex soundtrack.

Yet despite these advances that television has made in the last two decades, so far the television and the movie theater still represent two distinctive viewing experiences. Even when their content is the same, for example, a movie, compared to the theater, the television only offers a knock-off of the same product—there seems to be no arguing on that, otherwise people won’t be going to the theaters any more. Interestingly, in the process of evolution, cinema and television has adapted to two different sets of aesthetics according to their physical abilities. Thanks to the bigger screen and its aspect ratio that is more akin to human field of view, cinema is able to create a structure, a tension within each frame. This capacity is largely lost in television. Because the relative smaller size of the screen, programs made for television are obliged to present only one point of interest at one time while in a huge screen, numerous details can be represented at the same time. Montage however, is retained by the television. Moreover, in order to compensate for the compositional insufficiency, television programs tend to use montage in a higher speed level, eliminating in the same time the need for meticulous lighting and mise-en-scene.

In television programs, normally each shot contains either one singular meaning or no meaning at all. Television screen does not tolerant ambiguities. But is this always a bad thing? Not necessarily. In fact, to have a distinctive meaning for each shot and to seek an effective combination of these meanings resembles to Eisenstein’s use of typage, close-ups, and montage of attraction. As you have probably guessed, this can be very impressive in many circumstances. In the light of this argument, early Eisenstein films, Potemkin, October, Strike, etc., are not going to look bad on today’s television since television does not truncate them as it does to say, 2001, A Space Odyssey.

It has to be pointed out however, that television programs are seldom produced with the effectiveness in those Eisenstein films. Aesthetic compatibility is one thing; whether or not a certain program has achieved its maximum aesthetic potential is another thing. Eisenstein’s montage is the refined result of deliberate artistic intentions. Most television programs, on the other hand, copy what they feel like to be attractive and easy. Furthermore, since television relies heavily on dialogue or voice-over, the pure kinetic flow that is typically Eisensteinian is always compromised.

*************

Television is ideal for certain purposes while poor for others. Documentaries, cartoon series, news…these are what the television does best. In The Simpsons Movie, Homer shouted in the theater, “I can’t believe we are paying for something we can get on TV for free!” He makes perfect sense there, except he is also paying for the TV. Television quenches our thirst for news, for information and for stories. On the other hand, what cinema offers is a collective state-of-the-art audio-visual bombardment. Today’s audience is used to pay for the latter by session, but the former by month.

But considering the fact that the history has proved all the time that technical advances will progressively blur the boundaries between existent categories and finally establish new ones, the practical question is therefore not whether the distinctiveness between these two kinds of experiences will still exist in future or not, but probably rather, what is tomorrow’s television (or better phrased as ‘home viewing experience’) and what is tomorrow’s movie theater?

Although the theoretical resolution of celluloid is yet to be matched by digital copies that can be owned by individuals, it is no longer a dream to possesses a home theater that can achieve a high percentage of the sensual impact generated by commercial theaters. In fact, I am willing to believe that today’s high-end home theater owners are already enjoying a better picture and sound than their grandfathers fifty years ago in a movie house. Hence, it is probably not too ridiculous to suggest that home theater has taken over the place of the former theater and the theaters of today are pushed towards higher ends.

What are the higher ends? Among the predicable trends, IMAX and stereoscopic technique seem to be the most promising in visual field. By having a resolution four times over that of the traditional 35mm film, the IMAX establishes again a superiority, although whether or not the human eyes are able to appreciate this is still a question. As for stereoscopic film, since it involves special playback equipment and viewing requirements, it is estimated not to be available soon at home. Not even in theaters. Yet the difference between a two dimensional picture and a three dimensional one is in no way to be underestimated—it is possibly the next major step since the addition of sound. But right now the real obstacle is not the technology, but the business model. It is in this respect that the Real D Cinema system has offered a few characteristics of 3D film production and distribution which will probably become the business model of the future market—to lower both the cost of production and marketing, they tend to re-render an existing film that has a good reputation—another application of the golden principle of cross platform selling.

In the aural field, the commercial theater has an edge that is not easily matched by home theater. The sheer power of the speakers and the acoustic property of the surroundings are admittedly much more superior than any home theater system can dream of, particularly in the lower frequencies. Unfortunately, this superiority manifests only in certain circumstances: earthquake, huge explosion, car crashes, etc. As a consequence, to seduce the audience in a future where HD home theater systems prevail, productions will inevitably focus on these types of sequences that can be better appreciated in the movie theater.