It is typically a guarantee in movies that the protagonist won’t lie to the audience; other people may, but the main character (especially if he’s doing some of the narration) never does. In Steven Soderbergh’s (Ocean’s 13) earlier collaborations with Matt Damon in the Ocean’s trilogy the audience isn’t always let in on the secrets, but we aren’t lied to by the characters. In their newest project, The Informant!, this is not the case. Mark Whitacre (Matt Damon, the Bourne series) lies. A lot. He lies to the audience, every other character, and even at times to himself and the audience only finds out way after the fact. So, what starts as a fairly mundane movie about a corporate whistle-blower ends in a way no one (who doesn’t know the true story this is based on) could imagine.
The movie has a simple premise [SPOILER ALERT!]: a high-level employee of a company (ADM) becomes an informant for the FBI. He spends years making tapes and setting up meetings before the FBI has enough evidence to make their case against ADM. When the FBI makes its raid, however, everything starts to unravel. The allegations against the company are true, but it comes to light that Mark Whitacre has been hiding some secrets of his own from the FBI and the audience. The entire second part of the movie is the discovery of these lies and just how deep they go. Due to these lies, the FBI starts to investigate, causing Whitacre go on the defensive. He goes from lawyer to lawyer as he lies to each one and ignores their requests to stay away from the press; so, finally he ends up with some random personal injury lawyer, the only man willing to take his case anymore. I don’t want to give away too much more because it was fun to go into the movie with no previous knowledge and watch it all play out.
The movie is funny and moves along quickly, mostly due to the supporting characters who are constantly being lied to by Mark. Melanie Lynskey (Away We Go) plays Ginger Whitacre, Mark’s loving and faithful wife who sticks by him no matter what, in a manner that is both funny and touching. TV’s Scott Bakula (The New Adventures of Old Christine, Chuck) and Joel McHale (The Soup, Community) play the FBI agents who work closely with Whitacre and as such feel the most betrayed. The two agents are witty and fun to have on screen as they are basically yanked around by Mark in the first half. They do a great job of playing agents who can’t quite believe that someone this high up in a company would want to help them, but they are able to not look a gift horse in the mouth, which ends up costing them in the end. My personal favorite appearance was from Tony Hale (TV’s Chuck, Arrested Development), who played Mark’s first lawyer. His pained looks and more and more frustrated attitude really hit home how much of a mess Mark has created for himself.
What makes this movie really work is Matt Damon’s excellent portrayal of Mark Whitacre, a man who is, much like the title of the movie, unassuming at first, maybe even a little bit boring, however, when you dig a little deeper, there is so much more to discover. He has the ability to get people to trust him, which works to his favor for a while, but only ends up hurting everyone when the truth really comes out (if it in fact does). He is so wonderfully delusional (he thinks that bringing down the men in charge will get him the top job at the company) that you can’t help but feel bad for the man, even though it is all a problem of his own making. Matt Damon may have been hiding behind Whitacre’s large glasses and hair-piece, but his acting was top-notch once again, and his likeability really helps in getting the audience to trust Whitacre right away. In his capable hands, the character of Mark Whitacre is able to get with (almost) everything and make the audience root for him the whole way. He is heartbreaking as you watch him lose it all, and not really understand why. He is both a man who is a victim of corporate greed and of his own mind and the audience can't help but feel sorry for him when it all comes crashing down.
Technically, the film is well done. There are many great camera shots that just focus on Whitacre's face and the audience is able to see the slow unraveling of the man. The movie was filmed in a way that gave it the look of a 1970s or 80s crime drama, complete with the graphics. The whole thing was filmed with soft, yellow lighting, especially when Whitacre was in frame, which gave it the air of being a older and was actually taking place during the time when the story really happened. Another element I liked was that as this was mostly about the characters was that in most of the shots the faces were in focus, but the background was always a little blurry and undefined, which really made the audience focus on the faces, and really be able to have an appreciation for just how good of a liar Mark Whitacre really was, as we could “look” into his eyes and not be able to tell. There wasn’t a lot of soundtrack with the movie; it was mostly diagetic sound that really highlighted that this was a real man going about his “real” life. Once the truth started coming out, however, the background came into focus a little more and the lighting got a little more harsh and white, as if we were coming out of Whitacre’s fantasy world and into the real world.
In all, this was a very enjoyable movie, witty and well-paced and constantly keeping the audience on their toes. If you liked the Ocean’s movies, or just like Matt Damon, then this is a great movie for you. I do recommend seeing it with at least one other person, because there is a lot to talk about after the movie is over. My only complaint is that while the movie is funny and witty it isn’t “quotable,” which allows specific parts to fade from memory pretty quickly. However, I very much enjoyed the experience of watching a fine actor play a great character and trying to figure what actually happened in the end!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sleepless in Seattle according to Bordwell
There is much debate as to whether or not Cinema Paradiso is an example of classical Hollywood narrative as described by David Bordwell in his article “Classical Hollywood Cinema.” There may not be a correct answer to that debate; however, Sleepless in Seattle is a prime example of classical Hollywood narrative.
Bordwell lays out the basic structure of the narrative with regards to character saying, “[t]he classical Hollywood film presents psychologically defined individuals who struggle to solve a clear-cut problem or to attain specific goals. In the course of this struggle, the characters enter into conflict with others or with external circumstances. The story ends with a decisive victory or defeat, a resolution of the problem and a clear achievement or nonachievement of the goals” (18). This is seen in both of the main characters, Sam and Annie (portrayed by Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, respectively), as the movie progresses. The movie’s plot is pretty straight-forward, but what makes the film unique are the struggles of the main characters. Sam spends the movie struggling with raising his son and trying to date a woman his son doesn’t like, and he himself doesn’t feel the magic with. These are fairly minor struggles, but they work to add to the tension that builds to the ending at the Empire State Building. Annie’s struggles really drive the plot, as she internally fights with the decision to stay with the man who is comfortable, but whom she doesn’t have any magic with, and the mysterious connection she has with the man who she has never met, but somehow knows that she should be with him. The movie ends as Bordwell says it should, with a resolution and achievement of the goals set out in the beginning.
There is one way in which the film deviates slightly from the classical structure that Bordwell presents, only in that Annie and Sam are never in the same place, so they have their separate lives and also their joint love story. Bordwell describes the traditional classical syuzhet in this way, “[it is] usually… a double causal structure, two plot lines: one involving heterosexual romance (boy/girl, husband/wife), the other line involving another sphere-work, war, a mission or quest, other personal relationships” (19). The heterosexual romance is there between Annie and Sam, even if they don’t really realize it, but they each have their own other plot line, involving friends and another romantic relationship. In a sense, there are two movies in one, as each character has a separate plot that affects the main romantic story line. I don’t think this deviation means that this movie shouldn’t count as a classical Hollywood film, however, as it is simply a twist on the structure and both plots work to create a connection between the two main characters, even from across the country.
What really interests me is the parallel that the movie itself makes to a classic Hollywood film within the narrative of the film. On more than one occasion, characters on both “sides” of the plot make reference to An Affair To Remember (1957), which has many parallels to Sleepless and in fact, Annie is motivated by the movie during several key points in the plot. This, combined with the amazing soundtrack that is comprised of many wonderful songs that are pulled from Hollywood classics, and some songs that evoke that feel, adds to the feeling of the film being a classic Hollywood film.
The ending of the film is both conventional and unconventional at the same time. Bordwell says, “the classical ending is not all that structurally decisive, being a more or less arbitrary readjustment of that world knock awry in the previous eighty minutes” (21). He then goes on to say that roughly 60% of films end “with a display of the united romantic couple-the cliché happy ending, often with a ‘clinch’-and many more could be said to end happily” (21). While Sleepless doesn’t end with a “clinch,” the ending is a happy one, however, there is a certain amount of ambiguity to it. The film ends happily, with Annie and Sam meeting on the Empire State Building and connecting hands to feel the “magic” between them; anything more or less would seem like too much or too little, and the purity of the moment is a wonderful ending to the film. The ambiguity comes from the desire to know what happens after they connect; after all, they live on two different sides of the country, something that no amount of “magic” can instantly fix. We see them get on the elevator together and hope that they have a happy ending, however, there is no guarantee. We want to believe that their struggles are over, but we can’t know that for sure. That being said, there are many classic films that end that way, and the audience just has to trust that it’s going to be happy.
All in all, I do believe that the film is an example of classical Hollywood film as Bordwell describes it. The main characteristics are there, and the film itself takes pains to equate itself to other Hollywood films, clearly wanting to evoke the memories and feelings of those other, older films. There is a sense of nostalgia that permeates the film, and adds to the mysterious and wholesome feeling that only adds to the call-back of classic Hollywood films.
Bordwell lays out the basic structure of the narrative with regards to character saying, “[t]he classical Hollywood film presents psychologically defined individuals who struggle to solve a clear-cut problem or to attain specific goals. In the course of this struggle, the characters enter into conflict with others or with external circumstances. The story ends with a decisive victory or defeat, a resolution of the problem and a clear achievement or nonachievement of the goals” (18). This is seen in both of the main characters, Sam and Annie (portrayed by Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, respectively), as the movie progresses. The movie’s plot is pretty straight-forward, but what makes the film unique are the struggles of the main characters. Sam spends the movie struggling with raising his son and trying to date a woman his son doesn’t like, and he himself doesn’t feel the magic with. These are fairly minor struggles, but they work to add to the tension that builds to the ending at the Empire State Building. Annie’s struggles really drive the plot, as she internally fights with the decision to stay with the man who is comfortable, but whom she doesn’t have any magic with, and the mysterious connection she has with the man who she has never met, but somehow knows that she should be with him. The movie ends as Bordwell says it should, with a resolution and achievement of the goals set out in the beginning.
There is one way in which the film deviates slightly from the classical structure that Bordwell presents, only in that Annie and Sam are never in the same place, so they have their separate lives and also their joint love story. Bordwell describes the traditional classical syuzhet in this way, “[it is] usually… a double causal structure, two plot lines: one involving heterosexual romance (boy/girl, husband/wife), the other line involving another sphere-work, war, a mission or quest, other personal relationships” (19). The heterosexual romance is there between Annie and Sam, even if they don’t really realize it, but they each have their own other plot line, involving friends and another romantic relationship. In a sense, there are two movies in one, as each character has a separate plot that affects the main romantic story line. I don’t think this deviation means that this movie shouldn’t count as a classical Hollywood film, however, as it is simply a twist on the structure and both plots work to create a connection between the two main characters, even from across the country.
What really interests me is the parallel that the movie itself makes to a classic Hollywood film within the narrative of the film. On more than one occasion, characters on both “sides” of the plot make reference to An Affair To Remember (1957), which has many parallels to Sleepless and in fact, Annie is motivated by the movie during several key points in the plot. This, combined with the amazing soundtrack that is comprised of many wonderful songs that are pulled from Hollywood classics, and some songs that evoke that feel, adds to the feeling of the film being a classic Hollywood film.
The ending of the film is both conventional and unconventional at the same time. Bordwell says, “the classical ending is not all that structurally decisive, being a more or less arbitrary readjustment of that world knock awry in the previous eighty minutes” (21). He then goes on to say that roughly 60% of films end “with a display of the united romantic couple-the cliché happy ending, often with a ‘clinch’-and many more could be said to end happily” (21). While Sleepless doesn’t end with a “clinch,” the ending is a happy one, however, there is a certain amount of ambiguity to it. The film ends happily, with Annie and Sam meeting on the Empire State Building and connecting hands to feel the “magic” between them; anything more or less would seem like too much or too little, and the purity of the moment is a wonderful ending to the film. The ambiguity comes from the desire to know what happens after they connect; after all, they live on two different sides of the country, something that no amount of “magic” can instantly fix. We see them get on the elevator together and hope that they have a happy ending, however, there is no guarantee. We want to believe that their struggles are over, but we can’t know that for sure. That being said, there are many classic films that end that way, and the audience just has to trust that it’s going to be happy.
All in all, I do believe that the film is an example of classical Hollywood film as Bordwell describes it. The main characteristics are there, and the film itself takes pains to equate itself to other Hollywood films, clearly wanting to evoke the memories and feelings of those other, older films. There is a sense of nostalgia that permeates the film, and adds to the mysterious and wholesome feeling that only adds to the call-back of classic Hollywood films.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Fight Club and Benjamin: altering reality
How does film change the way we see things? How does the narrative in a film affect our viewing of it? "Fight Club" starts out by altering perceptions, by moving the narrative not forward, but backward, and this is the signal that this movie is more than just plot, plot might not even matter in the end, that we should use all of our senses to enter the reality of the film.
In his article "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," Walter Benjamin compares a camera and cameraman to a surgeon, "the surgeon at the decisive moment abstains from facing the patient man to man; rather, it is through the operation that he penetrates into him." The cameraman does this with his camera, he cuts into the reality surrounding him, and "penetrates deeply into its web." And in turn, is this not what the film does to us? "Fight Club" takes what we know, and cuts into it, bringing a new sense of reality to our lives. The epiphany that one of the main characters is just the figment of the imagination of the other, jolts us from complacency. It makes us question everything we have just watched and every movie we watched previously and every movie we will watch. The camera is able to make us see things that we wouldn't normally see, as Benjamin says, it "intervenes with the resources of its lowerings and liftings, its interruptions and isolations, its extensions and accelerations, its enlargements and reductions," the camera can take time and space and alter it. Details come into sharp focus and things that we have never really looked at before become the most important thing in the world.
"Fight Club" does all this and more. It's reality becomes our reality and we are stunned along with Edward Norton as he learns that the man he has been investing his time in is his "imaginary friend." We are in Tyler Durden's head, so his reality is our reality, even though it becomes very evident that it isn't reality in it's pure form. And yet, the camera is able to make us think it is reality, because we have learned to trust it, to value it, and we are taught to, if nothing else, believe only what we see. At least, before "Fight Club" came around. We don't have to believe what anyone says, but we are supposed to believe at least our own eyes. Film takes that away from us. We have both the ability to see things that we have never seen before and the ability to see things that aren't really there.
Along that vein, I wonder what "Fight Club" would be like to watch it without any sound. Because there are some visual clues, and maybe if we were to watch it without sound and therefore narrative, we would catch them, because after all, film is more than just narrative, it is a visual medium, and as such, should come across just as well without the narrative. In addition, we wouldn't be inside Tyler Durden's head, as we wouldn't be able to hear his thoughts, so maybe we wouldn't be so shocked to find out that Brad Pitt isn't real. We could trust our eyes again.
Benjamin says that film changes our ability to see things, it enhances it and manipulates it, and presents it to us. In turn we trust completely what is being given to us to consume, no questions asked. Films like "Fight Club" exploit that trust, use it not to enhance our perception of reality, but to change it, twist it, and make us question what is real; just as Brad Pitt did to Ed Norton, so does "Fight Club" do to us.
In his article "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," Walter Benjamin compares a camera and cameraman to a surgeon, "the surgeon at the decisive moment abstains from facing the patient man to man; rather, it is through the operation that he penetrates into him." The cameraman does this with his camera, he cuts into the reality surrounding him, and "penetrates deeply into its web." And in turn, is this not what the film does to us? "Fight Club" takes what we know, and cuts into it, bringing a new sense of reality to our lives. The epiphany that one of the main characters is just the figment of the imagination of the other, jolts us from complacency. It makes us question everything we have just watched and every movie we watched previously and every movie we will watch. The camera is able to make us see things that we wouldn't normally see, as Benjamin says, it "intervenes with the resources of its lowerings and liftings, its interruptions and isolations, its extensions and accelerations, its enlargements and reductions," the camera can take time and space and alter it. Details come into sharp focus and things that we have never really looked at before become the most important thing in the world.
"Fight Club" does all this and more. It's reality becomes our reality and we are stunned along with Edward Norton as he learns that the man he has been investing his time in is his "imaginary friend." We are in Tyler Durden's head, so his reality is our reality, even though it becomes very evident that it isn't reality in it's pure form. And yet, the camera is able to make us think it is reality, because we have learned to trust it, to value it, and we are taught to, if nothing else, believe only what we see. At least, before "Fight Club" came around. We don't have to believe what anyone says, but we are supposed to believe at least our own eyes. Film takes that away from us. We have both the ability to see things that we have never seen before and the ability to see things that aren't really there.
Along that vein, I wonder what "Fight Club" would be like to watch it without any sound. Because there are some visual clues, and maybe if we were to watch it without sound and therefore narrative, we would catch them, because after all, film is more than just narrative, it is a visual medium, and as such, should come across just as well without the narrative. In addition, we wouldn't be inside Tyler Durden's head, as we wouldn't be able to hear his thoughts, so maybe we wouldn't be so shocked to find out that Brad Pitt isn't real. We could trust our eyes again.
Benjamin says that film changes our ability to see things, it enhances it and manipulates it, and presents it to us. In turn we trust completely what is being given to us to consume, no questions asked. Films like "Fight Club" exploit that trust, use it not to enhance our perception of reality, but to change it, twist it, and make us question what is real; just as Brad Pitt did to Ed Norton, so does "Fight Club" do to us.
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