Otis Morley’s A-Level Film Studies Blog

Component 1c: British Film Since 1995 (Ideology)

How useful has an ideological critical approach been in analysing the films you have studied? Refer in detail to one or more sequences from each film.
Autumn 2021

Plan:

Introduction

An ideological critical approach is often a highly insightful lens through which a film can be evaluated. In essence, considering ideological implications can enrich the meanings that are able to be extracted from a film’s thematic tapestry. Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is a highly frenetic film showcasing the Edinburgh drug culture throughout the 1990s in a nonlinear fashion. The film moves at a blistering pace, prioritising the task of immersing the viewer within its world. Because of this, the film’s ideological messaging is notably ephemeral – fluctuating between themes of anti-consumerism, hedonism, and capitalism. In contrast, This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) offers a clear-cut narrative with a strong anti-nationalist ideological underpinning, telling a single story that serves to critique the Thatcherism of the 1980s.

Body

Trainspotting – fluctuating ideology: anti-consumerist, hedonist, capitalist

Cold open – Lust for Life lyrics, “choose life” monologue, Sick Boy heroin bliss
The liberal zeitgeist of the 1990s – exaggerated mise-en-scène in drug den, harsh reds, reinforce the effects of drug use
Boyle critiques the consumerist society that perpetuates drug addiction and poverty – encouraging audience empathy
London Montage – cliched sights of London reinforces superficiality. A visual embodiment of Renton’s prior montage – the emptiness of consumerism and conformity. Despite a change in location, Renton is trapped in a consumerist vicious circle – systemic problems of society
Closing sequence is a showcase of Renton’s rejection of hedonism and nihilism – final mirroring monologue

This is England – anti-nationalist

Opening montage – newsreel archival footage grounds the film in Britain during the 1980s. Highlights the economic and social issues that led to the permeation of nationalism. Shaun’s impoverished, fatherless way of life is as a result of the events portrayed in the montage.
Use of soul and reggae music creates a juxtaposition with the violent imagery on screen. Inherent contradictions within skinhead movement, encourages the audience to question the validity of Combo’s ideology
Thatcherism – working class resentment towards controversial policies, embracing capitalism and shutting down coal mines. Iranian embassy crisis.
Cultural and racial inclusivity – younger, older
Combo’s entrance – malice and bigotry is revealed through exaggerated enunciation of racial epithets. Representative of the plague of nationalism during the 1980s. Handheld cameras focus in on a closeup, contrast gliding Steadicam during montage
Racist bother montage – gliding and graceful camerawork. Portraying skinheads as simultaneously pathetic and threatening. Powerful critique of indoctrination – Shaun’s gradual descent into racist culture
Newsreel montage – implicit commentary on the dangers of patriotism. Footage displays a solider erecting a British flag in a tiny village – viewer encouraged to question the validity of the British victory
Symbolism of Shaun rejecting nationalism – throwing flag in ocean. Meadows does not leave his anti-nationalist message up for interpretation or debate

Conclusion

In conclusion, viewing Trainspotting through the lens of an ideological critical approach reveals the film’s attempt to comically deconstruct the messages that are typically conveyed to the youth. Despite the film’s ideological ambiguity, taking this particular approach has been useful in unravelling the thematic substance of the film. Conversely, employing an ideological critical approach for This is England allows for the film’s unashamed anti-nationalist ideology to be fully comprehended, encouraging us to question the nationalism and indoctrination that pervaded England during the 1980s.

Essay – Version 1

Trainspotting begins with a jarring cold open, beginning in medias res with an establishing wide shot of Renton and Spud fleeing from the authorities down the streets of Edinburgh. This frenetic opening is accompanied by the non-diegetic compiled score – Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life – a punk song from the 1970s that is aptly representative of the hedonistic lifestyle led by the characters. As we continue to follow Renton, we are subjected to non-diegetic narration – Renton’s iconic “choose life” monologue. The monologue provides a counter-culture message, rejecting societal norms and expectations, parodying the Scottish anti-drug mantra, instead glorifying the characters’ alternative lifestyles. This opening scene appeals to young defiant individuals, representing the liberal zeitgeist of the 1990s.

Scenes of the chase are intercut with scenes of Mother Superior’s drug den, during which the camera focuses in on a closeup of Sick Boy taking heroin, emphasising the hedonism embraced by the characters. In addition, the mise-en-scène within the den is notably heightened and exaggerated. Boyle’s use of harsh reds arguably reinforces an anti-capitalist ideology, symbolising the characters’ bleak, impoverished existence. By taking an anti-consumerist ideological approach, the audience is able to infer that an inherently consumerist society ultimately perpetuates drug addiction and poverty. This encourages the audience empathise with the characters’ struggles, causing the spectator to question the capitalist system that creates such inequalities.

The London montage that occurs near the midpoint of the film also serves to reinforce an anti-capitalist ideology. The montage quickly cuts between a multiplicity of cliched sights associated with London, including Tower Bridge, ice cream, pigeons, and Piccadilly Circus. All of these serve to represent the superficiality of the city’s supposed capitalist agenda, which is reinforced by an arguably ‘soulless’ non-diegetic compiled EDM score that serves to epitomise the contemporary mainstream of the 1990s. The montage serves as a visual embodiment of the aforementioned “choose life” monologue, demonstrating the emptiness of consumerism and conformity. Despite the fact that Renton has ostensibly left his old lifestyle in Edinburgh behind, he is still trapped in a similar vicious circle. Irony is created from the fact that that while Renton has escaped from the drug den, he has entered into a new realm of capitalism and consumerism by becoming an estate agent, that is just as dangerous in his eyes. This highlights the film’s overarching ideological trappings, illustrate that the issues created by capitalism are systemic and cannot be solved by a simple change of scenery.

Trainspotting’s closing sequence perhaps best underpins the film’s oscillating ideological messaging, depicting Renton’s final decision to reject hedonism. Renton’s decision to steal the money represents the inevitable embrace of a capitalist system, suggesting that he is finally leaving his life of nihilism. Renton ultimately “chooses life” by taking the money for himself, realising that hedonism does not lead to true fulfilment in life. This is displayed to the viewer through a focus pull into a closeup that reveals Renton walking away with the money. Through the use of non-diegetic narration, Renton pledges to begin living a disciplined life, mirroring the rhythm and cadence of his initial “choose life” monologue. Renton states, “I’m gonna be just like you.”, forcing the audience to question their preconceptions towards society, encouraging them to question the status quo.

Conversely to Trainspotting’s cold open, This is England begins with a montage made up of newsreel archival footage. This serves to ground the film in Britain during the 1980s, highlighting the economic and social issues that led to the permeation of nationalism throughout the country, establishing the film’s anti-nationalist ideology. The montage draws particular attention to the Margaret Thatcher government and the rise of far-right politics in England. This included groups such as the National Front, a political party known for its racist rhetoric and violent actions, briefly displayed in the opening montage. The montage also showcases working-class resentment towards Thatcherist policies, involving the embrace of capitalism and the shutting down of coal mines. This footage is accompanied by a non-diegetic compiled reggae song, creating a juxtaposition when apposed with the violent imagery on screen. This song also encourages the audience to question the inherent contradictions within the skinhead movement – a movement originating from a shared love of music associated with black culture that was later plagued by racism and nationalism. After the montage, a title card establishes the year, 1983, and we are introduced to the main protagonist, Shaun. The viewer then is able to make the connection between Shaun’s impoverished, fatherless way of life, and the events portrayed in the montage – Shaun’s life is a direct result of the Thatcher government.

Soon afterwards, Shaun is taken under the wing of the skinheads and Meadows implements the use of another montage to illustrate the budding connection between them. Once again, the montage is accompanied by a reggae piece – a genre that emerged in Jamaica as a form of resistance to colonialism. In addition, the wide shot of the gang walking towards the camera displays the inclusive nature of the skinheads. The gang is notably diverse – being racially inclusive, having younger and older members, alongside male and female members. This challenges a nationalist ideology that typically campaigns for a homogenous, racially pure nation.

The sequence in which we are introduced to Combo is important to consider when taking an ideological critical approach. Combo’s malice and bigotry towards racial minorities is reinforced through his emphasised enunciation of racial epithets. Meadows’ use of handheld cameras contrasts the gliding Steadicam shots during the preceding montage, focusing in on a closeup of Combo to emphasise his raw and unpolished nature. As Combo proceeds to tell his story, the non-diegetic piano score is particularly manipulative, being an exception to the film’s footing in British social realism, emphasising the emotional impact of Combo’s bigoted remarks on the audience. Meadows’ intentions are to make the audience condemn Combo’s actions, highlighting the negative consequences of nationalism and racism within the bigger picture of the country.

The montage in which Combo’s gang wreaks havoc serves as Shane Meadows’ ultimate indictment of nationalism, racism, and the toxic ideology that is often associated with it. The camerawork is gliding, graceful and carefully framed, as seen in previous montages earlier in the film. This creates a sense of unease and discomfort for the audience, as the viewer is forced to confront to the racist hate crimes head-on. Throughout the sequence, the skinheads are simultaneously portrayed as threatening and pathetic. In large numbers, the group are a force to be reckoned with, displayed through the claustrophobic two-shot of Combo and the boy playing football. However, they are individually pathetic and dim witted, as evidenced by the wide shot showcasing misspelled racist graffiti. This technique serves to undermine the group’s power and authority, reinforcing the film’s anti-nationalist ideology. Meadows also depicts the indoctrination of Shaun, as he is taught racist phrases and is trained in the ways of racist hate crime. This is perhaps best underpinned through the superimposition of Shaun walking through a tunnel, overlayed with racist graffiti. In effect, this sequence serves to subject the audience to the repugnance of racism and the danger of extremist ideologies.

Towards the end of the film is a montage that mirrors the opening montage made up of newsreel footage – this serves as a bookend for the film, encouraging the audience to question the dangers of nationalism. The montage acts as an implicit commentary on the dangers of patriotism, exemplified through footage which displays a solider erecting a British flag in a tiny village. This encourages the viewer to question the validity of the British victory during the Falklands War, which directly impacted upon Shaun’s life. This showcase of the grim reality of working-class life in England reinforces the dangers of blindly following nationalist ideologies. This message is further emphasised during the final scene of the film, displaying Shaun throwing the English flag into the water, symbolising his ultimate rejection of a nationalist ideology. The final shot of the film is a closeup of Shaun looking directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall. This underpins Meadows’ ideological messaging – the film’s anti-nationalist agenda is not up for interpretation or debate.

Component 1c: British Film Since 1995 (Narrative)

Explore how the narratives of the films you have studied influence your response to key characters.
Sample Assessment Materials

Plan:

Introduction

Both Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) and This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) are films that aptly demonstrate how narrative can be utilised in a variety of means to influence the audience’s response to key characters. Trainspotting employs a frenetic, nonlinear narrative that serves to immerse and engross the viewer within the hedonic world of the five main characters. Alongside this, the audience is also predominantly encouraged to empathise with the protagonist, Mark Renton, as he struggles to overcome the hardships of heroin addiction over the course of the film. Conversely, This is England employs a clear-cut linear narrative that has its roots within cinema vérité and British social realism of the 1980s. However, Shane Meadows employs the use of montage and a manipulative non-diegetic composed score to elicit empathy towards Shaun, showcasing the dangers of indoctrination. To contrast this, Meadows also implements narrative techniques to incite condemnation towards the film’s primary antagonist, Combo, who is representative of the nationalist ideologies that the film critiques throughout.

Body:

Trainspotting – employs a frenetic pace, nonlinear narrative and poetic dialogue to encourage the audience to become engrossed within the five characters’ stories. Particular empathy and engagement directed towards the protagonist, Renton.

Opening sequence – jump cuts, ellipsis, breakneck pacing – immediately immerses the viewer within hedonism
Renton’s non-diegetic narration – poetic and enthralling. Serves to bridge the gap between sequences. Thin, attractive, verbally articulate – highly appealing protagonist.
Lust for Life by Iggy Pop – pulsing, bombastic retro score. The characters’ nostalgia.
Title cards and freeze frames – release from the pandemonium to introduce us to each character, establishing an ensemble cast
Action match – Renton falling on pitch and in the den
Sick Boy James Bond references – relatable and appealing
Bizet’s Habanera alongside exaggerated jagged wooden planks- comical reinforcement of Renton’s isolated struggle to “get off the skag”
Worst toilet in Scotland – surrealist filmmaking, Brian Eno score, brief interlude from the frenetic pacing. Renton‘s distraught inner turmoil
London Montage – time compression, speed of change in Renton’s life. Juxtaposing EDM contemporary score.
Closing monologue mirrors Renton’s opening “choose life” speech. Full circle, confessional remarks. Narrative satisfaction, empathising with Renton’s final decision to take the money.

This is England – use of montage, newsreel footage serves to garner the audience’s empathy towards Shaun’s indoctrination. British social realism roots. Incite repulsion and condemnation towards Combo.

Opening montage – newsreel footage establish historical context, crucial in establishing the foundational empathy towards Shaun. Cause and effect – Shaun’s impoverished, fatherless way of life is as a result of the clips featured in the montage
Fun with friends montage – uses ellipses to highlight the budding relationship between Shaun and the skinheads. Innocent activities – swimming, puddle jumping – juxtaposes thuggish exterior. Highlights vulnerability and their co-dependence
Combo’s story – threatening atmosphere establishes his repugnance. Tight closeups, emphasis of racial epithets, manipulative Ludovico Einaudi score
Shaun superimposed against racist graffiti – empathy towards his indoctrination
Final scene – Shaun throwing the English flag into the water. His rejection of a nationalist ideology.

Conclusion

Essay – Version 1

Both Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) and This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) are films that aptly demonstrate how narrative can be utilised in a variety of means to influence the audience’s response to key characters. Trainspotting employs a frenetic, nonlinear narrative that serves to immerse and engross the viewer within the hedonistic world of the five main characters. Alongside this, the audience is also predominantly encouraged to empathise with the protagonist, Mark Renton, as he struggles to overcome the hardships of heroin addiction over the course of the film. Conversely, This is England employs a clear-cut linear narrative that has its roots within cinema vérité and British social realism of the 1980s. However, Shane Meadows employs the use of montage and a manipulative non-diegetic composed score to elicit empathy towards Shaun, showcasing the dangers of nationalist indoctrination. To contrast this, Meadows also implements narrative techniques to incite condemnation towards the film’s primary antagonist, Combo, who is representative of the nationalist ideologies that the film critiques throughout.

The opening sequence of Trainspotting employs a variety of narrative techniques to influence the viewer’s response towards the characters. The disjointed, frenetic narrative drive is immediately established by the film’s cold open in medias res, beginning with a wide shot of Renton and Spud fleeing from the authorities down an Edinburgh street. The scene is accompanied by the non-diegetic compiled score, Lust for Life by Iggy Pop – a pulsing, bombastic song that serves as a nostalgically ‘retro’ soundtrack, exemplifying the characters’ youth. The song immediately immerses the audience within the hedonistic world of Trainspotting, forming a connection between the viewer and the characters. Alongside the score, the scene is also accompanied by Renton’s non-diegetic narration, beginning with the iconically anti-capitalist “choose life” monologue. Renton’s narration is both poetic and enthralling in nature, also serving to bridge the gap between scenes. Renton’s articulate disposition alongside his thin, attractive appearance paints him as a highly charismatic, appealing protagonist to follow throughout the film.

The opening sequence of the film also employs the use of freeze frames and title cards to introduce us to each of the five characters. This allows the viewer a brief release from the pandemonium to soak in each character’s introductory frame, embedding the film’s ensemble cast in the mind of the viewer. Renton also briefly breaks the fourth wall when he looks at the camera through the windshield, grinning at the viewer during his freeze frame. When Renton is hit by the ball during the football training scene, an action match is implemented that displays him falling to the ground after smoking a cigarette in the drug den. This action match creates a light-hearted juxtaposition – the exhilarating camerawork is highly appealing to view, further engrossing the audience in the frenzied world inhabited by Renton. In addition, when Sick Boy makes reference to multiple James Bond films – a seminal hallmark of British pop culture – it is appeals to a British audience, creating a sense of relatability between Sick Boy and the viewer.

Danny Boyle employs surrealist filmmaking techniques to reinforce Renton’s distraught state of mind as he attempts to quit heroin. As he lists off his supplies for isolation, the non-diegetic compiled classical score – Georges Bizet’s Habanera – comically enhances Renton’s struggles. The exaggerated imagery of the jagged wooden planks on the door also serves as a metaphorical representation of Renton’s isolation. Alongside this, the infamous ‘worst toilet in Scotland’ is theatrically repulsive, expressively displaying Renton’s perturbed inner turmoil. This brief vignette also serves as a brief interlude from the film’s frenetic pacing, allowing the viewer to deepen their connection to Renton.

The London montage that signals the film’s second act also exemplifies how narrative is used to elicit empathy towards Renton throughout Trainspotting. The use of the non-diegetic compiled score, Think About The Way by Ice MC – an EDM song exemplary the 1990s – starkly juxtaposes the retro ‘70s soundtrack of the first half of the film, signalling a change in location and society for Renton. The modern metropolis of London is displayed through an array of quick closeups of cliched sights including Tower Bridge, buses, and Piccadilly Circus. These sights contrast sharply with the Scottish landscapes seen earlier in the film, representing Renton’s new life and the challenges that come with it. Boyle’s use of montage is a narrative technique that conveys a sense of time compression, emphasising the overwhelming speed of change in Renton’s life.

Renton’s closing monologue mirrors his opening “choose life” speech, as they both follows a similar rhythm and cadence. Renton’s confessional remarks create a sense of closure and resolution, bringing the narrative back full circle. Renton’s final embrace of capitalism exemplified through his final decision to take the money is cathartic, leaving the viewer to question what they would do in Renton’s shoes. Boyle’s use of a focus pull away from Renton provides a sense of finality, leaving the viewer – who is now emotionally invested within Renton’s narrative – deeply satisfied.

In stark contrast to Trainspotting, This is England opens with an extended montage made up of newsreel footage, portraying events such as the Iranian embassy crisis, that serves to root the film within the relevant historical context of 1980s Thatcherist Britain. Meadows’ intention is to create a sense of cause-and-effect that underpins the film’s narrative structure – when we are introduced to Shaun, the viewer comes to realise that Shaun’s impoverished, fatherless way of life is as a result of the events portrayed throughout the montage. The opening sequence of the film serves as a crucial establishing foundation in inciting empathy towards Shaun from the viewer.

The ‘fun with friends’ montage highlights the budding relationship between Shaun and the skinheads, further deepening the relationship between the characters and the viewer. Shaun’s acceptance into skinhead gang is a significant moment in the film’s narrative structure – the gang becomes a surrogate family for Shaun. The innocence of the characters is exemplified through their childish activities – the montage showcases the gang swimming together, alongside running and jumping in puddles. This perhaps subverts the viewer’s preconception of skinhead culture, as the display of light-hearted fun juxtaposes their intimidating, thuggish exterior.

The sequence in which Combo tells a prison story serves to establish his racist ideology, positioning the audience to condemn Combo as the primary antagonist of the film. Combo’s gatecrash instantly shatters the placid equilibrium of the party, creating a threatening atmosphere, serving to reveal his repugnance to the audience. Meadows’ utilisation of tight close-ups of Combo’s mouth at eye level emphasises his racially-driven hatred, reinforced by his utterances of racial epithets. Ludovico Einaudi’s non-diegetic composed piano score is manipulatively emotional, a departure from traditional social realism that serves to bolster the emotional weight of the scene, causing the viewer to denounce Combo’s nationalist ideologies. This culminates in a heightened level of empathy towards Shaun later in the film as he is indoctrinated by Combo to perform racially-driven hate crimes. This is underpinned by a low-angle shot of Shaun walking under a tunnel that is superimposed with racist graffiti, accompanied by Einaudi’s manipulative score.

The final scene of the film displays Shaun throwing the English flag into the sea, being a powerful conclusion to the film’s narrative. It serves as a symbol of Shaun’s rejection of nationalist ideologies and his acceptance of a more inclusive identity. The final shot is a closeup of Shaun looking directly at the camera, breaking the fourth wall to leave a lasting impression on the audience. This scene serves to both highlight the dangers of nationalist indoctrination and provide a level of finality and catharsis – the audience has established an empathetic connection with Shaun over the course of the film, with this scene marking the end of his character arc.

In conclusion, both Trainspotting and This is England showcase how narrative techniques can be implemented to influence the audience’s response towards key characters. Boyle’s use of nonlinear narrative, score, and non-diegetic narration culminate to immerse the viewer within the hedonistic world of the characters first and foremost, encouraging empathy towards Mark Renton as he struggles with drug addiction. Meadows’ approach appears to be much more direct, utilising audience positioning, newsreel footage, alongside a highly manipulative score to fully influence the viewer’s perceptions of Shaun and Combo in order to critique the nationalist ideologies that plagued Britain during the 1980s.

This Is England Close-Up (Closing Sequence)

Overview

The closing sequence of This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) serves as an epilogue, tying up loose ends and giving closure to the film’s characters. It also has a wider social commentary on nationalism and the effects it can have on working-class communities. The sequence includes montages of images depicting life in England, newsreel footage of the Falklands War, and the return of soldiers from the war. The final shot displays Shaun throwing a British flag into the water, symbolising his rejection of a nationalist ideology.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist

The closing sequence of the film is a scathing critique of nationalism and its effects on working-class communities. Shane Meadows utilises montages of images depicting working-class poverty in England against the backdrop of the Falklands War. The newsreel footage of the Falklands War also serves as a commentary on the dangers of patriotism. The footage shows a soldier erecting a British flag on a tiny town hall in a village – the viewer is encouraged to question the validity of the British victory.

The victory in the war is visually compared with the pointless violence of Combo and his gang, highlighting the futility of nationalist ideologies. This message is further reinforced by the final shot of Shaun throwing the British flag into the water, symbolising his ultimate rejection of a nationalist ideology.

The use of symbolism in the sequence is also notable. The film’s title, “This is England,” is a reference to Combo’s rhetoric of English pride and patriotism that film attempts to ultimately reject. However, the film shows the grim reality of working-class life in England and the dangers of blindly following nationalist ideologies. The rejection of nationalism by Shaun is also reflected in his appearance, as he is dressed differently from his racist attire in the film. This transformation represents the rejection of nationalist ideologies and the embracing of a more inclusive identity.

The film’s ideology also presents no room for disagreement, with Shaun’s final action symbolically communicating a rejection of British pride and patriotism. Meadows shows no interest in leaving his anti-nationalist agenda up for interpretation or debate, bolstered by the film’s use of a notably manipulative non-diegetic score.

Narrative Analysis

The closing sequence of This is England begins with a montage made up of newsreel footage that mirrors the opening sequence of the film. This footage also adds a layer of authenticity to the film’s narrative, serving as a commentary on the dangers of patriotism and its effects on working-class communities. The return of soldiers from the war also ties into the film’s themes of masculinity and violence, as we see the effects of war on soldiers and their families.

The final shot of Shaun throwing the British flag into the water is a powerful conclusion to the film’s narrative. It serves as a symbol of Shaun’s rejection of nationalist ideologies and his acceptance of a more inclusive identity. The shot also leaves a lasting impression on the audience, highlighting the dangers of nationalist indoctrination.

This Is England Close-Up (“Racist Bother Montage” Sequence)

Overview

The ‘Racist Bother Montage’ sequence is a pivotal moment in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007). The sequence takes place after one of the members of the group, Combo, returns from prison with newfound racist beliefs. The scene depicts the group’s descent into racism, as they begin to target immigrants and other minority groups. The scene is significant as it highlights the danger of groupthink and indoctrination, and its impact on impressionable young people.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist

The sequence primary serves as the ultimate indictment of nationalism, racism, and the toxic ideology that is often associated with it. The sequence is a critique of the rise of far-right movements, the dangers of groupthink and the indoctrination of young people into extremist ideologies. Meadows uses a variety of techniques to convey this message.

The camera work is gliding, graceful and carefully framed, as seen in previous montages earlier in the film. This creates a sense of unease and discomfort for the audience, as they forced to confront to the racism head-on. The film highlights the absurdity of racism, by portraying the skinheads as a group of pathetic losers. The group initially seems intimidating especially when in a large groups, most evidently when they bully the women in an underpass. However, they are individually pathetic and dim witted, as evidenced by their misspelled graffiti. This technique serves to undermine the group’s power and authority.

Meadows also depicts the indoctrination of Shaun, as he is taught racist phrases and is trained in the ways of racist hate crime. The grown men’s threats and bullying of children is also a powerful critique of their racist ideology. The overlay of racist graffiti imagery, symbolically conveying Shaun’s gradual descent into the racist culture. This technique serves to further highlight the dangers of racism and its potential for destruction.

Meadows provides an apt critique of nationalism and racism, highlighting their dangers and their potential to harm individuals and society. In effect, this creates a sense of unease and discomfort, as the audience is forced witness the repugnance of racism and the danger of extremist ideologies.

Narrative Analysis

The ‘Racist Bother’ sequence is also crucial moment in the film’s narrative structure. The scene serves as a turning point for Shaun’s character, as he is exposed to the dark side of the skinhead movement. The sequence is shot in a way that creates a sense of tension and unease, as the audience becomes aware of the group’s descent into racism.

The use of a manipulative non-diegetic score serves to heighten the tension and create a sense of foreboding. The music is used to underscore the dangers of extremist ideologies and their potential for destruction. The scene is shot in a way that highlights the danger of groupthink and indoctrination.

This Is England Close-Up (“Combo’s Story Montage” Sequence)

Overview

The ‘Combo’s story’ sequence in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) introduces us to Combo, a repugnant nationalist that serves as the film’s primary antagonist. He gatecrashes Woody’s party after being released from prison and tells the gang a story, during which his racist disposition is revealed. The sequence is a turning point in the film’s narrative, as Combo’s actions and beliefs have a significant impact on the story’s direction. The sequence also highlights the film’s anti-nationalist ideology and exemplifies its narrative structure.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist

The sequence supports an anti-nationalist ideological approach by showcasing the negative impact of nationalism and racism. Shane Meadows, intended to expose the flaws of British society during the 1980s and how nationalism and racism played a role in dividing the country. This sequence achieves this by showing Combo’s true character, highlighting his malice and bigotry towards minorities. The use of handheld cameras contrasts the gliding Steadicam shots during the preceding montage, emphasising Combo’s raw and unpolished nature.

Combo’s enunciation of racial epithets is particularly striking and showcases his true beliefs. This scene highlights Combo’s malice and bigotry, illustrating how nationalism and racism can create an atmosphere of hate and division. The closeups of his face and the brief reactionary cutaways show a clear divide among the characters. Woody, Lol, and Milky show visible opposition, while Pukey laughs at Combo’s racist caricature. This scene also highlights the power of peer pressure and how it can influence an individual’s beliefs and actions.

The non-diegetic piano score is particularly manipulative, being an exception to the film’s footing in British social realism, emphasizing the emotional impact of Combo’s actions on the audience. Meadows’ intentions are to make the audience feel uncomfortable and disgusted with Combo’s actions, which are meant to highlight the negative consequences of nationalism and racism.

Narrative Analysis

The sequence also exemplifies the narrative structure of the film by serving as a turning point in the story. Combo’s gatecrash instantly creates a threatening atmosphere, revealing his repugnant character to the audience. The focus on Combo receiving the majority of screen time also highlights his importance in the story’s direction. When he is interrupted by Shaun, a 12-year-old, and show visible annoyance, Combo’s insecurity and vulnerability is emphasised.

The use of tight close-ups of Combo’s mouth at eye level emphasizes the hatred and emphasis on racial epithets, showcasing the intensity of the scene. The subduing of diegetic sound is a departure from British social realism, emphasising the emotional impact of the scene on the audience. This creates a powerful and emotional scene that highlights the negative impact of nationalism and racism.

This Is England Close-Up (“Fun With Friends Montage” Sequence)

Overview

The “fun with friends montage” sequence in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) is a pivotal moment in the film’s narrative structure. We follows our protagonist, Shaun, as he becomes accepted into a surrogate family of skinheads, who take him under their wing. This sequence marks a turning point for Shaun, who has now found acceptance within the group of skinheads.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist

The sequence’s choice of music is significant as it reinforces the anti-nationalist ideology of the film. The music is similar to the opening sequence, featuring a non-diegetic reggae song, a genre that emerged in Jamaica as a form of resistance to colonialism. The inclusion of reggae music in the film highlights the multicultural nature of the skinheads, rejecting the idea of a homogenous, racially pure national identity. The inclusion of diverse characters, including racial inclusivity, younger and older, male and female, also challenges to the idea of a homogenous nation.

The setting of the sequence against the backdrop of poverty and graffiti is significant as it highlights the the economic decline that permeated post-Thatcher Britain. The graffiti displays a protest against the established government order, reflecting a rejection of a traditional nationalist identity.

Narrative Analysis

The “fun with friends” sequence exemplifies the narrative structure of the film in multiple ways. Firstly, the use of montage and ellipses is significant as it compresses time and tells a story. The montage acts as chapter markers in the film, signalling the passage of time and the impending arrival of Combo. The film’s use of slow-motion and highly edited montage is a stark departure from Danny Boyle’s frenetic and hyper-kinetic camerawork in Trainspotting (1996).

Shaun’s acceptance into the surrogate family is a significant moment in the film’s narrative structure. It is a turning point for Shaun, who is fatherless and struggling to fit in with his schoolmates. Shaun’s acceptance into the family highlights the importance of chosen family and the rejection of traditional nuclear family structures. The innocence of the characters is also significant as it juxtaposes their thuggish exterior. The playful and supportive nature of the characters highlights their vulnerability and the importance of emotional support.

This Is England Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

The opening sequence of This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) is a montage that establishes the setting and time period, the Midlands in 1983, while also showcasing the UK’s social issues and pop culture of the time. It opens with a montage made up of documentary newsreel footage accompanied by a soul soundtrack, before transitioning into linear editing that introduces the protagonist, Shaun. The sequence sets the stage for the film’s exploration of the skinhead subculture and its evolution into a racially divided movement.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist

The opening sequence of This is England introduces the anti-nationalist ideological critical approach that the film adheres to. Meadows uses a montage of UK issues and pop culture to highlight the economic and social issues of the time. The use of soul music, a genre rooted in African American culture, creates a juxtaposition with the violent imagery on screen, highlighting the inherent contradictions in the skinhead movement. The skinhead counter-culture is shown to be heavily influenced by reggae music, which further emphasizes the subculture’s appropriation of black culture.

The opening montage draws particular attention to the Margaret Thatcher government and the rise of far-right politics in England. This included groups such as the National Front, a political party known for its racist rhetoric and violent actions, briefly displayed in the opening montage. The montage also showcases working-class resentment towards Thatcher and her controversial policies, involving the embrace of capitalism and shutting down coal mines. The montage’s display of the Iranian embassy hostage crisis and the British government’s decision to send in the SAS highlights the brutality of the time period.

Meadows’ intentions are to critique the nationalism and xenophobia of the skinhead movement. The juxtaposition of racially-driven violence with African American music challenges the skinheads’ claim to being a British nationalist movement. The effect on the audience is to question the validity of the skinheads’ ideology and to create an emotional distance from the characters.

Narrative Analysis

The opening sequence of This is England exemplifies the film’s linear narrative structure. The use of montage and documentary newsreel footage creates a sense of historical context and setting that is important to understanding the film’s story and characters. The linear editing that follows introduces the protagonist, Shaun, and establishes his life as a consequence of the events depicted in the opening montage. Meadows’ intention is to create a sense of cause-and-effect that underpins the film’s narrative structure. In effect, this creates a sense of inevitability and to emphasise the role of history in shaping the lives of the characters. The use of music and imagery in the opening sequence also foreshadows the conflicts and divisions that will drive the film’s narrative forward.

Trainspotting Close-Up (Closing Sequence)

Overview

The closing sequence of Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is a powerful and thought-provoking scene that brings the story and characters to a satisfying conclusion. It follows the character of Renton as he makes the decision to steal the money that he and his friends had intended to split evenly. Renton’s final monologue mirrors the opening “choose life” monologue, but Renton instead rejects hedonism and embraces capitalism.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist

The closing sequence of Trainspotting serves to showcase Renton’s rejection of nihilism. Renton’s decision to steal the money represents the inevitable embrace of a capitalist system, suggesting that he is finally leaving his life of hedonism. Renton ultimately “chooses life” by taking the money for himself, realising that hedonism does not lead to true fulfilment in life. He pledges to begin living a disciplined life, stating that “I’m gonna be just like you.”. This encourages the audience to challenge their assumptions and encourage them to question the status quo.

Narrative Analysis

Renton’s final monologue mirrors the opening monologue, following a similar rhythm and cadence. This creates a sense of closure and resolution, bringing the narrative back full circle. The focus pull away from Renton at the end of the sequence reinforces this sense of closure, as he walks off into the distance and the camera moves away from him. The confessional remarks in the narration suggest that Renton has learned something from his experiences and has rejected nihilism in favor of a more practical and grounded worldview. This has the effect of providing the viewer with a sense of narrative satisfaction, as the story has reached a logical and emotionally satisfying conclusion.

Trainspotting Close-Up (“London Montage” Sequence)

Overview

The ‘London Montage’ sequence in Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) comes at a pivotal moment in the story. The montage is a rapid-cutting sequence that signals a change in time and location, signalling Renton’s move from his hometown of Edinburgh to London. This sequence serves as a visual embodiment of the film’s central themes, particularly its criticism of capitalist society. It also marks a significant turning point in the narrative, as Renton has left his old lifestyle behind and is forced to confront the realities of a new world.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist

The ‘London Montage’ sequence is rife with examples of an anti-capitalist ideology. The use of handheld consumer-grade footage and home video footage of tourism highlights the shift from a cinematic to a more personal and everyday perspective, symbolising a break from the mainstream. This change in film stock also adds a rawness to the sequence that adds to its authenticity.

The sequence’s cliched sights of London, including Tower Bridge, ice cream, pigeons, and Piccadilly Circus, all represent the superficiality of the city’s supposed capitalist agenda. The montage serves as a visual embodiment of the “choose life” monologue, demonstrating the emptiness of consumerism and conformity. We can infer that Boyle’s intentions were to criticise capitalist society by showcasing its inherent superficiality and emptiness. The effect on the audience is profound, as it highlights the dangers of blindly following a capitalist agenda.

The sequence’s most interesting and insightful example is that it demonstrates that despite the fact that Renton has left his old lifestyle behind, he is still trapped in a similar vicious circle. Irony is created from the fact that that while Renton has escaped from the drug den, he has entered into a new realm of capitalism and consumerism by becoming an estate agent, that is just as dangerous in his eyes. This highlights the film’s themes, demonstrating that societal problems are not isolated issues but are instead interconnected. Boyle intended to illustrate that these problems are systemic and cannot be solved by a simple change of scenery. In effect, this reinforces the film’s central message of anti-capitalism, challenging them to question their values and their place in society.

Narrative Analysis

The ‘London Montage’ sequence also exemplifies the film’s narrative structure. The use of the non-diegetic compiled score, electronic dance music exemplary the 1990s, is a prime example. This score starkly juxtaposes the retro ‘70s soundtrack of the first half of the film, signalling a change in location and society.

The sequence provides a notable turning point in the film, marking the second act’s beginning. The modern metropolis of London contrasts sharply with the Scottish landscapes seen earlier in the film, representing Renton’s new life and the challenges that come with it. The use of the montage technique conveys a sense of time compression, emphasising the overwhelming speed of change in Renton’s life.

Trainspotting Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) opens with a fast paced frenetic sequence, beginning in medias res. We follow our main protagonist, Mark Renton, running through the streets of Edinburgh as he and Spud are pursued by the authorities. Alongside the pair, the sequence also serves to introduce the viewer to the five main characters and establish the blistering fast pace and spirited, playful tone that pervades the film.

Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist

The opening sequence of Trainspotting exemplifies the anti-capitalist ideology that the film adheres to. The non-diegetic compiled score, Lust for Life by Iggy Pop aptly represents the punk movement of the 1970s and ‘80s, which rejected the oppressive forces of capitalism and consumerism. The lyrics of the song also glorify living life to the fullest, which is accompanied by scenes Sick Boy taking heroin. The rapid editing and frenetic camerawork also reinforces the characters’ embrace of hedonism, linking to an anti-capitalist ideology.

The implementation of Renton’s non-diegetic, poetic narration is another significant aspect of the film that supports an anti-capitalist ideology. The iconic “choose life” monologue provides a counter-culture message, rejecting societal norms and expectations, and instead glorifying the characters’ alternative lifestyles. This opening scene appeals to young defiant individuals, representing the liberal zeitgeist of the 1990s. The mise-en-scène within the drug den is notably heightened and exaggerated, reinforcing the effects of drug use and addiction in a negative light, with the setting’s roots existing in British social realism. The use of colours and lighting further supports the anti-capitalist ideology by depicting the characters’ poverty and bleak existence.

Danny Boyle aptly depicts the harsh realities of life for the working-class in Edinburgh during this opening sequence, criticising the consumerist society that perpetuates drug addiction and poverty. This encourages the audience empathise with the characters’ struggles, causing the spectator to question the capitalist system that creates such inequalities.

Narrative Analysis

The opening sequence of Trainspotting exemplifies the loose, nonlinear narrative structure of the film in several ways. The use of jump cuts during the football training scenes is an example of ellipsis, which compresses time and moves the narrative forward. This contributes to the film’s breakneck pace, immersing the viewer within the hedonistic world that the characters live in. The setting of the Edinburgh streets, football pitch, and drug den are simultaneously familiar yet also provide an enigmatic, grungy aesthetic that appeals to the audience.

The narrative has a flowing quality, with no pauses between scenes, with the non-diegetic narration serving to bridge the sequences together, providing a rhythmic and expressive sequencing. The film employs an ensemble cast, with each character being interesting in their own right. Boyle employs title cards and freeze frames to introduce us to each character, also allowing the viewer a brief release from the tumultuous events being portrayed on screen. The fourth wall is also briefly broken when Renton looks at the camera through the windshield, subtly acknowledging both the driver and the viewer. Through this, narrative drive is created as the viewer is enthralled by the actions of the characters. When Renton is hit by the ball, an action match is implemented that displays him falling to the ground after smoking a cigarette. This action match creates a light-hearted juxtaposition – the exhilarating camerawork is highly appealing to view, further immersing the audience in the frenzied world of Trainspotting. Sick Boy makes reference to multiple James Bond films – a seminal hallmark of British pop culture that appeals to a British audience.

The use of expressive filmmaking techniques, such as the comically jagged wooden boards to metaphorically portray Renton’s isolation, further enhances the narrative drive of the film. The non-diegetic compiled classical score – Habanera by Georges Bizet – comically enhances Renton’s struggles. Boyle’s depiction of the working-class youth in Edinburgh enables the exploration of themes such as addiction, poverty, and the rejection of societal norms. In effect, this encourages the audience to instantly become engrossed in their stories, whilst empathising with the characters, ultimately creating a sense of emotional engagement that propels the narrative forward.

Narrative Hodge-Podge

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996)

Narrative

The narrative structure of Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is highly unconventional, reflecting the fragmented lives of the characters and the chaos of their drug-fueled existence.

The viewer is immediately thrown into the chaos of the story, with the film beginning in medias res with a cold open. This nonlinear immersion places the viewer halfway through the story, immediately engaging them within the action. The film opens with an iconic song from the 1970s: “Lust for Life” by Iggy Pop, which captures the frenetic atmosphere of the scene. The song also serves as a defining soundtrack for the cast’s youth, immersing the viewer within the exuberant camaraderie of the characters. The opening scene takes place in a mundane, familiar British high street, providing a sense of instant familiarity for the viewer. The narrative is aided by Renton’s iconic omniscient narration, beginning with his “choose life” monologue. Renton speaks with hindsight from a retrospective viewpoint, assisting the viewer in understanding the story.

The film introduces the five main characters: Renton, Sick Boy, Begbie, Spud, and Tommy, using freeze frames and intertitles to draw the viewer’s attention to each of the main cast. Renton is characterised as a charismatic protagonist by being, thin, attractive, and verbally articulate, making him a highly appealing character to follow. Boyle employs rapid cuts between brief vignettes set in different locations, that serve to heighten the energy and pacing of the opening sequence. Motion match is also implemented, an example being when Renton falls on the football field, which is matched with Renton falling in the apartment after taking heroin, naturally connecting the different scenes together in the viewer’s mind.

In the drug den, the baby is framed within a frame in a low-angle shot, alone. This plants an enigma code in the viewer’s mind, serving to foreshadow the baby’s death later in the film. A technique typical of Danny Boyle’s involves keeping the camera in constant motion, contributing to the frantic pace of the narrative. The squalid atmosphere of the den is juxtaposed with frenetic, playful pacing. The non-diegetic compiled score also reinforces the narrative drive, such as when “Lust for Life” continues to play while Sick Boy discusses the pleasure of taking heroin.

The film’s dialogue is notably comedic in nature, despite the fact that it deals with serious subject matter. The screenplay also has a poetic quality, taking a joy in figurative language, linking back to Irvine Welsh’s source material. The images also serve to support the narration, an example being when the sudden cut to Begbie dismissing drugs, which is playfully ironic due to the fact that he is seen to drink and smoke. As the soundtrack dissipates, the diegetic ambience of the dialogue rises. At this point, the narrative is conveyed in a much more traditional manner during the scene when Mark attempts to get “off the skag”, maintaining a constant flow between diegetic and non-diegetic narrative drive.

Boyle implements figurative filmmaking techniques during the scene when Mark locks himself away in his room. Utilising exaggerated mise-en-scène such as when Renton nails the wood to the door in a cross shape, Boyle draws upon familiar cartoon imagery to reinforce Renton’s isolation. Georges Bizet’s famous Habanera aria to create a sense of irony by utilising this piece of non-diegetic classical music in a comical fashion.

Boyle uses the intertitle “the worst toilet in Scotland” to introduce us to a surrealist sequence. This use of an intertitle is notably unorthodox and risky, as it has the potential to disrupt the flow of the film. However, the intertitle suits the light-hearted tone of the film, and allows for a brief interlude from the film’s blistering pace. The toilet itself is theatrically repulsive, expressively displaying Renton’s distraught state of mind – the non-diegetic Habanera piece also re-enters at this point. We then enter a highly surreal sequence in which Renton dives into the toilet and swims into the depths, in search of his suppositories. Brian Eno’s non-diegetic compiled score, Deep Blue Day, bolsters the expressive embellishment of Renton’s psyche.

During the park scene, the audience is positioned to support Renton and Sick Boy, as they are framed in closeup, while everyone else in the park is framed in a wide shot. Jarring editing is employed during Spud’s interview between wide and long shots, creating a sense of disorientation to heighten the chaos of the interview. In the pub, the freeze frame of Begbie concentrates the viewer on the importance of the moment, reinforcing it as a defining moment in Begbie’s characterisation. The narration also assists the narrative during this point, initiating the story of Renton stealing the videotape as Tommy recounts his viewpoint of Begbie’s violent interaction during the pool game. Each sequence naturally flows into the next, with significant use of ellipsis, time manipulation, and temporal editing implemented to achieve this.

The interior of the rave is reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange’s (Stanley Kubrick, 1971) milk bar, being an example of postmodernism that links to the stylistic aesthetic of the film. The use of subtitles burned onto the screen during Tommy and Renton’s conversation highlights the importance of the poetic dialogue that must be heard in order to comprehend the film. The only correctly capitalised word is Iggy Pop – highlighting his importance to the characters. Trainspotting also briefly draws on postmodernism during this scene, with a Taxi Driver poster behind Renton, and an introduction to Diane that is reminiscent of Ilsa’s introduction in Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942). During Diane’s dialogue, there is a juxtaposition between the poetic literary dialogue and the reality of the situation, which adds a layer of artifice on top of reality.

The film features parallel editing during a sequence which details each of the three men’s sexual encounters, with visceral depictions of each. The mountain interlude sedates the pace of the film, during which traditional camerawork is employed. Afterwards, we return to the drug den during which the scene is cut in time with the non-diegetic compiled score. The film’s stylised, choreographed movements and blocking during the scene where the characters beat up an American man is an example of expressive filmmaking.

During the scene when Alison discovers the dead baby, the score lowers in the mix as her diegetic screaming enters the mix, alongside the implementation of a blue colour palette that reinforces the seriousness of the situation. The baby’s death marks a turning point in the tone of the film – it signals the decline of hedonism.

A particularly memorable scene in the film is Renton’s final hit, which leads him to overdose. The scene is filmed with tight closeups that are created as the camera pushes in towards Renton, creating a sense of anticipation and claustrophobia. The viewer is forced to watch the graphic intravenous procedure of a heroin injection, which is uncomfortable yet compelling. This scene sparked controversy with the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) due to the fact that this scene could be argued to convey instructional heroin usage, leading to a debate about the film’s intentions. In response, Boyle argued that the film did not glorify the use of drugs at all, instead deterring audiences from taking such dangerous substances.

Renton sinking into the carpet after overdosing on heroin is an example of expressive filmmaking, embellishing the effects the drugs are taking. Irony is created with the implementation of the non-diegetic compiled score – Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day,” which simultaneously references Sick Boy’s mention of Reed’s solo career earlier in the film. The overdose sequence is also a masterclass in surrealist filmmaking. The otherworldly imagery is heightened and hyperbolised, making the viewer feel like they are experiencing Renton’s trip alongside him. The perspective shift makes Renton’s room feel impossibly long, adding to the disorienting effect of the sequence. This is a masterful example of how Trainspotting uses narrative to convey a character’s distraught mental state.

The London montage serves the purpose of conveying a shift in location. The montage shows stereotypical images of London, such as red buses, black taxis, policemen, tourists, ice creams, and the Piccadilly Circus sign. The upbeat electronic dance music represents the contemporary music of the ‘90s, juxtaposing the retro soundtrack of the earlier portion of the film, thus conveying a shift in lifestyle. As we are introduced to Renton’s new abode, the lyrics of the song “Mile End” by Pulp is reflect the images on screen, creating a sense of unity between the visual and aural elements of the film. This is a powerful way of conveying narrative and emotion simultaneously, propelling the film’s narrative drive through the use of carefully selected non-diegetic composed score.

Ideology

Trainspotting is also notable for its ideological substance, which can be best underpinned by the characters’ anti-capitalist attitudes. Renton’s opening “choose life” monologue serves to establish the film’s anti-capitalist ideology, in which Renton mocks the Scottish anti-drug mantra, establishing an inherent rejection of middle-class aspirations and ideals. Renton’s famous line “I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons.” exemplifies this rejection of standard life choices and the embrace of unorthodox, hedonistic means – a central theme of the film. Renton’s monologue in the mountains about being Scottish also exemplifies a nihilist ideology that rejects any sense of national or cultural identity.

However, as the film progresses, Renton ultimately ends up embracing capitalist ideals. This is a commentary on how even those who reject mainstream ideals and try to live outside the system can ultimately be pulled back in. The ending sequence of the film displays the opening monologue coming full circle, with Renton embracing a capitalist ideology, “choosing life” by taking the money for himself. Ultimately, Renton realises that hedonism does not lead to true fulfilment in life, with Renton pledging to begin living a disciplined life, stating that “I’m gonna be just like you.”

This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007)

Narrative

The opening sequence of the film greatly contrasts that of Trainspotting’s – a highly edited, fast paced chase sequence beginning in medias res. This is England instead opens with a montage that displays news and current affairs of the 1980s. This use of archival footage establishes the time, place, and mood, aptly rooting the story in the time period. The first clip is of Roland Rat, the children’s mascot of Channel 4, being representative of a diverse variety of niches that were growing in notoriety on television. The montage also includes imagery that displays seminal hallmarks of the 1980s, including Rubik’s cubes, computers, CDs, Knight Rider, and space raiders. In addition, the footage highlights societal conflicts including miner strikes, far-right marches, National Front activities and the Falkland Islands war. The houses that are displayed in Shaun’s town are emblematic of the new housing scheme that the British government devised after homes were destroyed in the wake of WW2. The impoverished state of living resulted in replacing the slums with modern housing, leading to a rise in ‘council estates’.

The film largely follows a linear structure, meaning that the plot and story run in parallel. This narrative structure allows Meadows to compress time using ellipses thorough the use of montage, initially used to showcase the mundane aspects of Shaun’s life – bike riding, car cleaning, catapulting, etc. This characterises Shaun as a young boy who seeks a sense of belonging and acceptance. We are then introduced to the skinheads who take Shaun under their wing, acting as a surrogate family for him, most notably Woody serving as a father figure. Shane Meadows subverts the viewers’ preconceptions of skinhead culture by portraying the group as innocent and friendly through the use of montage – activities such as jumping in puddles and swimming develop the camaraderie between Shaun and the skinheads.

However, the narrative undergoes a pivotal turning point during Combo’s introduction – the definitive antagonist who shares parallels with Begbie from Trainspotting. Combo’s racist ideologies are hinted at during his recount of a prison story, during which the highly manipulative non-diegetic piano score by Ludovico Einaudi is implemented to create a sense of discomfort and unease. The camera is also tightly focused in a closeup on Combo’s face, reinforcing this. This scene marks the film’s first head-on confrontation with racism, with Combo’s unflinching use of racial epithets being dually repulsive and threatening. Combo is further characterised as a three-dimensional antagonist with a subtextual backstory being alluded to at points throughout the film. He is a tragic victim of 1980s society, having been given a prison tern at a young age, hoping for reconciliation with Lol after his release.

The film’s climax centres around the confrontation between Combo and Milky, highlighting the racial violence and emotional weight the film has been building towards. The confrontation arises due to Combo being angered by Milky’s alleged privileges over him, with Einaudi’s manipulative score being implemented once again to bolster the emotional weight of the scene. The violence is raw and unflinching, despite not being particularly gory. The camera also does note cut away from the violence, forcing the viewer to confront Combo’s repugnant actions.

The montage of newsreel footage at the end of the film mirrors the opening sequence. The footage displays the soldiers’ return at the end of the Falklands war, highlighting the film’s themes of belonging, violence and societal change.

Ideology

This is England is a film highly concerned with ideological underpinnings, most notably that of an anti-nationalist focus. The opening montage made up of archival footage draws particular attention to the Margaret Thatcher government and the rise of far-right politics in England. This included groups such as the National Front, a political party known for its racist rhetoric and violent actions, briefly displayed in the opening montage. The montage also showcases working-class resentment towards Thatcher and her controversial policies, involving the embrace of capitalism and shutting down coal mines. The montage’s display of the Iranian embassy hostage crisis and the British government’s decision to send in the SAS highlights the brutality of the time period.

The film’s portrayal of skinhead culture also closely links to its anti-capitalist agenda. The skinhead movement initially had its roots in African American culture – particularly through the movement’s shared interest in reggae and soul music. However, the film depicts how the movement was gradually infected by nationalism and racist, stemming from impoverished people who scapegoated foreigners for the poverty-stricken society of the 1980s.

This idea is primary explored through the character of Combo, whose sinister ideals are slowly revealed to the viewer during his recount of a prison story. He later indoctrinates Shaun under his command, radicalising his views to match his own nationalist agenda. His extremist views also create a rift within the skinhead group, driving Woody, Lol, and Milky away. These three represent the inclusive skinhead movement, banding together due to shared cultural interests. The film also distinguishes the fine line between political viewpoints and racially-driven hatred, as many viewers will unwillingly resonate with Combo’s monologue about Thatcherist policies. Combo instead assigns the blame towards foreigners as an easy scapegoat.

During the closing sequence, Shane Meadows subtly questions the value of patriotism and the cost of human lives during the display of the end of the Falklands War. The montage of archival footage showcases the prisoners of war appearing to be unarmed and untrained, raising questions about the true value of warfare victory. The film’s final scene perhaps best underpins a rejection of nationalism when Shaun throws the England flag, Saint George’s Cross, into the sea. This symbolically highlights Shaun’s rejection of a nationalist ideology.

This Is England Contextualised

This Is England (Shane Meadows, 2006) is a British drama film that explores the culture of skinhead movement in England during the early 1980s. The film received critical acclaim and won the Best British Independent Film award at the 2006 British Independent Film Awards.

The film’s director, Shane Meadows, is a filmmaker from Nottingham who emerged during the 1990s during a period when regional arts funding was available – allowing him to collaborate with like-minded filmmakers and develop a handful of short films. Meadows released his first feature length film, TwentyFourSeven (1997), a piece rooted in kitchen sink realism and cinéma vérité – film movements that are defined by the showcase of the struggles of working-class lives of young individuals. Meadows’ narratives share concerns with these movements, touching upon similar subject matters, locations, and themes.

Throughout his filmography, Meadows often casts non-professional actors. In This is England, the most notable example of this is Thomas Turgoose who plays Shaun. At the time, Turgoose was a 13 year old boy who had never acted before, being banned from his school’s play due to bad behaviour. This serves to reinforce the gritty, realist tone that Meadows strives for within his body of work. When developing a screenplay, Meadows will typically write the foundations of the dialogue, before encouraging the actors to improvise during a rehearsals. Through this, the dialogue becomes fully realised and an extra layer of authenticity is also added during this process.

This is England was shot on location in the midlands, predominantly in Nottingham. However, Meadows filmed the scenes that displayed the town’s docks in Grimsby, making the setting more ambiguous. To reinforce this, the characters accents are also particularly eclectic. For example, while Woody and Gadget have a Lancashire accent, Combo, on the other hand, has a highly distinctive Scouse accent. The film’s aesthetic can be characterised by a mix of gritty realism and stylised cinematography that contribute to the film’s roots in kitchen sink realism. Meadows use of a handheld camera alongside natural lighting give the film a raw, documentary-style feel. The film’s compiled soundtrack also features a mix of classic reggae and punk songs that were popular with the skinhead subculture that the film explores.

*The unnamed town’s docks*, *shot on location in Grimsby*

The film portrays the skinhead subculture as a diverse movement that includes both racist and non-racist factions, with Shaun becoming involved within the cultures of both groups. The film also explores the impact of racism on the skinhead movement and how it led to the rise of far-right extremist groups in England. Throughout the film, the rise of far-right extremism in England is critiqued, alongside the indoctrination of these beliefs onto the youth. Shane Meadows has even cited his own personal experience with the skinhead movement as inspiration for the film. This Is England was followed by a television series of the same name, airing in 2010 and set from 1986-1990. The series continued the story of the characters, concluding in 2015.

Trainspotting Contextualised

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is an adaptation of the 1993 novel of the same name by Irvine Welsh. The film is a product of the filmmaking collaboration made up of producer Andrew Macdonald, writer John Hodge, director Danny Boyle, and actor Ewan McGregor. The film was both a critical and commercial success, being nominated for two BAFTAs – Best British Film and Best Adapted Screenplay, winning the latter.

After realising their debut film Shallow Grave (1994), Andrew Macdonald spoke to Danny Boyle about the prospect of making Welsh’s book into a film after reading it on a plane in December 1993. Boyle was instantly enamoured by the book, excited by its potential to be the “most energetic film you’ve ever seen”. After reading the book, John Hodge set a goal to produce a screenplay that would have a clear three-act structure, lasting 90 minutes whilst also capturing the essence of the novel. Irvine Welsh was impressed that the trio wanted everyone to see the film, rather than just “the arthouse audience”.

*The Trainspotting collaboration:*
*Ewan McGregor (stars as Mark Renton), Andrew Macdonald (producer), Danny Boyle (director), Irvine Welsh (author), and John Hodge* *(writer)*

Trainspotting was released during a time of significant social and cultural change in Britain. The 1990s were characterised by the rise of youth culture and the emergence of new subcultures, as well as the growing problem of drug addiction, especially heroin. Trainspotting captures the zeitgeist of this period and instantly became a cultural touchstone for many young people undergoing similar struggles. The film also rejects consumerist values promoted by the Thatcher government, for example during Renton’s famous opening declaration: “Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television”.

*A still from the opening of Trainspotting*

The film has a notably distinctive visual style, typical of Danny Boyle’s eclectic body of work. Throughout the film, Boyle implements techniques such as freeze frames, jump cuts, and handheld camera work to create a dynamic aesthetic that captures the frenetic lives of the characters. The film’s non-diegetic composed score also serves as particularly prominent contribution to the film’s aesthetic. The film’s mix of electronic music and classic rock creates a heightened sense of energy, reflecting the emotions of the characters.,

Trainspotting’s narrative structure is also particularly noteworthy, being a series of non-chronological vignettes that reflect the narrative structure of Irvine Welsh’s original novel. The film also utilises surreal, dreamlike imagery at certain points, such as during the scene when Mark dives into the “worst toilet in Scotland” in search of his suppositories, serving to reinforce his desperation and degeneration as a drug addict.

*Mark dives into the toilet in an attempt to reclaim his suppositories*

This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007)

This Is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) is a British social drama film. Set in 1983, the film explores themes of youth, race, and national identity within Britain during this time period. The film follows the story of a troubled 12-year-old boy named Shaun, who is struggling to come to terms with the recent loss of his father, who we later learn died in the Falklands War. After being bullied at school, Shaun befriends a group of skinheads led by Woody, who show compassion and sympathy towards Shaun, inviting him into their gang. However, after the arrival of Woody’s friend Combo – a man driven by nationalistic and racist views – Shaun is gradually drawn towards into a world of violence and extremism, ultimately leading to a tragic conclusion.

*Shaun (Thomas Turgoose) is taken under the wing of a skinhead gang*

Shane Meadows, the director of This Is England, is a critically acclaimed filmmaker known for his gritty style that has its roots embedded within the kitchen sink realism movement of the 1960s. His films typically focus on working-class characters through which issues such as identity and social exclusion are explored. Meadows has won numerous awards for his films, including a BAFTA for This Is England.

The film is widely regarded as a significant film in British cinema history, being praised for its raw, moving portrayal of nationalistic indoctrination. The themes explored by the film still ring true, with issues such as nationalism and racism unfortunately pervading the country to this day.

The film’s narrative is structured in a linear fashion, with a clear three-act structure. Throughout the film, Meadows employs a range of techniques to convey information to the audience, such as documentary-style stock footage of real events from the time period, such as the Falklands War and the riots in Brixton.

Personally, I found This Is England to be a powerful and moving film that enthralled me from beginning to end. The performances from the cast are particularly compelling and believable, most notably Stephen Graham as Combo. My only real problem with the film was the final scene in which Shaun throws the flag into the ocean, which I felt was a little on-the-nose and offered a slightly unsatisfying conclusion to the film. Despite this, the film is both thought-provoking and enthralling throughout

Overall, I would rate This Is England ★★★★.

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996)

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is a British black comedy-drama film that depicts a gritty and intense portrayal of the Edinburgh drug scene. It is based on the novel of the same name by Irvine Welsh, which follows the lives of a group of young heroin addicts as they navigate the highs and lows of addiction, friendship, and betrayal.

We follow our protagonist, Mark Renton, a young man struggling with addiction, who is trying to break free from his destructive lifestyle. Alongside his friends Spud, Sick Boy, Begbie, and Tommy, Mark gradually falls deeper into the abyss of addiction, with each character facing their own struggles along the way.

The director, Danny Boyle, made Trainspotting on a shoestring budget alongside writer John Hodge and producer Andrew Macdonald. Despite this, the film went on to become an instant cult classic and a seminal piece of British 90s cinema. Its raw and unflinching portrayal of addiction and poverty struck a chord with audiences worldwide, and it remains a landmark film to this day.

Throughout the film, Danny Boyle implemented a variety of techniques to convey the narrative to the viewer. Including fast-paced editing, surreal imagery, and a pulsating soundtrack, these techniques coalesce to create an otherworldly atmosphere within the genre of social realism. The narrative is also structured in a nonlinear fashion, with Renton’s past and present intertwined, creating a sense of disorientation that mirrors the characters’ own confusion and despair.

I was enamoured by the film’s bleak portrayal of drug addiction and empathised with the tumultuous events experienced by the characters. The performances were particularly noteworthy, with Ewan McGregor in particular delivering a charismatic portrayal of Mark Renton. The film also makes use of a prominent non-diegetic compiled score, with Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life” being used during the opening sequence to contribute the film’s frantic energy and emotional impact.

While the film’s unrelenting darkness and despair were overwhelming at times, its powerful performances and striking visuals made Trainspotting a truly memorable cinematic experience. Ultimately, the film is a cautionary tale about the dangers of addiction and the psychological, social, and financial toll it can take upon us.

Overall, I would give Trainspotting ★★★★.

Component 1c: British Film Since 1995

The final component we are studying is Component 1c: British Film Since 1995. This section of the course entails two films of study, Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996), and This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007). Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as two specialist study areas that have been previously studied– Ideology and Narrative. This component also involves a direct comparison between the two studied films, akin to Component 1a and 1b.

Component 1b: US Film Since 2005 (Spectatorship)

Explore how far the two films you have studied demonstrate the filmmakers’ attempt to control the spectator’s response.
Autumn 2020

Plan:

Introduction

Throughout both Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) and No Country For Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007), the respective filmmakers persistently attempt to control the spectator’s response in a variety of faceted means. Winter’s Bone implements audience positioning in ways that attempt to elicit empathy within the viewer towards the protagonist, Ree, and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Granik claims that it is “a feminist film about an anti-feminist world”, implying that the preferred reading is one in which the viewer is encouraged to support Ree’s actions throughout the film. Conversely, the Coen brothers set out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative in No Country For Old Men, by encoding the film with an ambiguous thematic substance, challenging the spectator’s morals and ideologies. A passive spectator would even perhaps argue that the film is ‘unsatisfying’, as it does not conform to the conventions of a traditional narrative.

Body

Winter’s Bone – incites empathy within the viewer towards the characters, under the context of feminism

Preferred reading – empathising with Ree as an empowered woman and her struggles against patriarchal oppression
Negotiated reading – Ree’s actions are still immoral, despite being in a feminist world
Active spectatorship and negotiated reading during ‘squirrel dream’ sequence. Audience’s own perception will interpret the dream to have a particular meaning – perhaps the squirrel is representative of Ree’s oppression
Audience is positioned to view Teardrop as a symbol of toxic masculinity

No Country For Old Men – subverting audience’s preconceptions

No traditional ‘face off’, the Sheriff is mostly uninvolved with the events of the film
Preferred reading – siding with the Sheriff, sympathy with his disillusionment towards the senseless violence that permeates the state
Fade to black at the end leaves the audience dwelling upon the sheriff’s dreams – symbolism of following his father into the grave
Inevitable frustration towards the ‘unsatisfying’ conclusion – Llewelyn’s off-screen death
Active spectatorship – pensive opening sequence, little to no dialogue. Introspective sheriff monologue – doesn’t drive the plot forward. Exemplifies the rejection of the hypodermic needle theory.
The preconception of unconditionally supporting the protagonist’s actions is subverted when Llewelyn doesn’t give the man any water and instead takes the briefcase

The motivations behind Anton’s ambiguous murders are to be inferred by the audience through active spectatorship – checking boots for blood after inferably killing Carla Jean, nihilistic coin flips

Conclusion

In conclusion, Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men use starkly contrasting methods in order to control the viewer’s response. Winter’s Bone predominately implements audience positioning in an attempt to incite empathy towards Ree and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Through the use of cinematography, mise-en-scène, sound, and dialogue, Granik encourages the spectator to support Ree’s actions. Conversely, No Country For Old Men subverts the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions through the use of unorthodox narrative techniques alongside an inherently ambiguous thematic tapestry. The Coen brothers encourage active spectatorship to be exercised throughout, allowing for layered meanings of the film to be deciphered. Both films aptly demonstrate the power filmmakers possess towards shaping how a spectator responds to a film.

Essay – Version 1

Throughout both Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) and No Country For Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007), the respective filmmakers persistently attempt to control the spectator’s response in a variety of faceted means. Winter’s Bone implements audience positioning in ways that attempt to elicit empathy within the viewer towards the protagonist, Ree, and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Granik claims that the film is “a feminist film about an anti-feminist world”, implying that the preferred reading is one in which the viewer is encouraged to support Ree’s actions throughout the film. Conversely, the Coen brothers set out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative in No Country For Old Men, by encoding the film with an ambiguous thematic substance, challenging the spectator’s morals and ideologies. A passive spectator would even perhaps argue that the film is ‘unsatisfying’, as it does not conform to the conventions of a traditional narrative.

During the opening sequence of Winter’s Bone, the viewer is immediately encouraged to emphasise with Ree‘s struggles in an impoverished and oppressive patriarchy. The film opens with a non-diegetic lullaby, immediately connoting a sense of intimate maternity. Cutting to a wide shot, the children are framed behind the bars of a bed-frame — implying to the viewer that they are trapped within their environment. This opening sequence also conveys the cyclical nature of nurturing – Ree’s sister, Ashlee takes care of her toy kitten, implying the idea that she herself has been nurtured by Ree. Mise-en-scène is also implemented within the domestic landscape, being littered with waste and abandoned items. This, alongside the characters clothing being ragged and humble, emphasises the poverty-stricken way of life Ree and her family leads, positioning the audience as to empathise with them.

Ree’s bravery and defiance within an oppressive patriarchy is also displayed to the spectator during the ‘cattle market’ sequence, during which Ree calls for Thump Milton at the top of her lungs. Milton is unable to comprehend her, further reinforcing the invisible yet prevalent divide between the male and female worlds. Alongside this, the non-diegetic composed score becomes discordant, creating a sense of urgency. It is layered in tandem with the cries of the cattle, creating a sensory overload which reflects Ree’s distraught state of mind. This is another example of audience positioning used in an attempt to control the spectator’s response – eliciting empathy towards Ree in this case.

An example of taking a negotiated reading by using active spectatorship occurs during the ‘squirrel dream’ sequence. During this sequence, Granik utilises unorthodox techniques such as black and white grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera. Granik also implements a 4:3 aspect ratio, further contributing to the surreal nature of the sequence. A negotiated reading would argue that the squirrel in the sequence is perhaps a metaphor for Ree – as both are victims of a disrupted naturalistic environment. The danger faced by the squirrel is displayed through its shuddering fear, captured through the camera’s rapid and disorienting movements. A jarring diegetic chainsaw sound promptly enters the mix, perhaps being representative of the oppressive patriarchy that endangers Ree’s peaceful existence. A worms-eye-view shot of the trees is also used, displaying the squirrel, and by extension, Ree, as dwarfed, emphasizing her vulnerability within an oppressive patriarchal society. This reading is not explicitly conveyed by the film, but is instead only able to be inferred through active spectatorship. Each viewer will interpret this sequence in a slightly different way, exemplifying how this sequence is an example of Debra Granik attempting to control the spectator’s response.

Throughout the film, Ree’s uncle Teardrop is characterised in ways that illustrate him as a symbol of toxic masculinity – a notion that is able to be unravelled through active spectatorship. In the ‘squirrel gutting’ sequence, a focus pull is implemented to draw the spectator’s attention towards Teardrop as he approaches Ree. During their conversation, Teardrop offers some drugs to Ree, asking if she “has the taste for it yet”. Ree adamantly refuses, being indicative of her mental fortitude and purity that she possess over Teardrop, positioning the audience in a way that encourages the spectator to condemn Teardrop. In addition, during the closing sequence, Teardrop vows to seek revenge on the man that killed Ree’s father, reinforcing the cyclical nature of violence and highlighting the idea that Teardrop’s misguided sense of loyalty is a negative force, and that it is ultimately through the actions of women that the problems in the film are resolved. This further encourages the viewer to support Ree’s actions, framing Teardrop as a force of evil.

In contrast to Winter’s Bone’s attempts to control the spectator through the use of audience positioning which encourages the viewer to empathise with Ree, No Country For Old Men controls the viewer’s response by instead setting out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions, weaving an ambiguous thematic substance that pervades the film. Through this, active spectatorship is required to decipher a particular meaning from the Coen brothers’ enigmatic masterpiece.

The opening scene of the film immediately subverts the spectator’s expectations by beginning with a non-diegetic monologue delivered by Sheriff Ed Tom Bell. The monologue does not serve to provide exposition, but is instead an introspective monologue in which the sheriff reminisces upon the senselessly violent crimes that he has dealt with throughout his career. The viewer is left to question the meaning of this monologue, encouraged to become an active spectator by unravelling the themes of nihilism and determinism that the monologue touches upon. The preferred reading of the film is arguably for the viewer to side with the sheriff, sympathising with his disillusionment towards the nihilism that permeates Texas. This opening scene exemplifies the rejection of the hypodermic needle model which suggested that audiences were to blindly accept any messages presented within media.

Instead of being rewarded with a traditional showdown between the three main characters, the spectator’s expectations are instead subverted by the final scene of the film, with it being a pensive recount of the sheriff’s dreams. The Coens’ decision to end the film with an abrupt cut to black controls the viewer’s response in an interesting way – the spectator is forced to dwell upon the meanings of the sheriff’s dream as the credits roll. While a passive spectator would argue that this final scene is an unsatisfying conclusion to the film, an active spectator would perhaps argue that Ed Tom’s dream is symbolic of the sheriff following his father towards his impending demise.

No Country For Old Men also subverts the preconception of unconditionally supporting the protagonist’s actions during the first scene involving the character of Llewelyn Moss. During the scene, the viewer bears witness to Llewelyn’s selfish actions. He chooses to not give water to a dying man, instead taking the briefcase containing $2 million. Viewers are encouraged to employ active spectatorship – Llewelyn’s actions are arguably morally reprehensible and selfish, but this idea is not explicitly conveyed to the audience. Individual spectators are instead encouraged to decide whether or not Llewelyn’s actions are morally just.

The nature of Llewelyn’s death, being abrupt and offscreen, also serves as a means of controlling the spectator by subverting the their expectations. After a seemingly mundane and innocuous conversation between Llewelyn and a woman sitting in a pool takes place, the scene abruptly fades to black, before we cut to Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s point of view. The Coens’ employ a POV shot of the sheriff running towards the crime during which camera shake is employed to heighten the tension. Ed Tom, however, is too late – the inevitable causality of death has already taken effect. The fact that Llewelyn is killed in such an unheroic manner by a group of characters we have never been introduced reinforces the futility of humanity, providing acute shock value for the viewer in which their response is controlled by the filmmakers.

Throughout the film, ruthless hitman Anton Chigurh commits a series of senseless, brutal murders in pursuit of the money-filled briefcase. However, Anton’s motivations that fuel his actions are highly ambiguous, choosing his victims seemingly at random, rather than just those who obstruct his aims. The meanings behind Anton’s actions are to be extracted by the viewer – by employing active spectatorship, the Coens encourage the viewer to uncover the truth behind Anton’s murders. During the ‘call it, friend-o’ sequence, Anton leaves a perfectly innocent man’s fate up to a 50/50 coin flip, perhaps reinforcing his nihilistic belief that human life is meaningless and arbitrary. After the owner argues that he didn’t put anything up to win on the coin flip, Anton informs the man that “you’ve been putting it up your whole life, you just didn’t know it”, suggesting that the end of the man’s meaningless existence has already been decided. Alongside this, during the closing sequence, it is implied that Anton does indeed kill Carla Jean. Using active spectatorship, the viewer is able insinuate that Carla is dead after Anton checks his shoes for blood – an action that he has performed many times over the course of the film. An implied reading of the scene argues that due to the fact that Carla did not let the coin decide her fate, Anton decides to end her life purely due to his belief in the insignificance of human life.

In conclusion, Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men use starkly contrasting methods in order to control the viewer’s response. Winter’s Bone predominately implements audience positioning in an attempt to incite empathy towards Ree and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Through the use of cinematography, mise-en-scène, sound, and dialogue, Granik encourages the spectator to support Ree’s actions to support her impoverished family. Conversely, No Country For Old Men subverts the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions through the use of unorthodox narrative techniques alongside an inherently ambiguous thematic tapestry. The Coen brothers encourage active spectatorship to be exercised throughout, allowing for layered meanings of the film to be deciphered. Both films aptly demonstrate the power filmmakers possess towards shaping how a spectator responds to a film.

Component 1b: US Film Since 2005 (Ideology)

How valuable has ideological analysis been in developing your understanding of the themes of your chosen films?
Sample Assessment Materials

Plan:

Introduction

Ideological analysis is a critical viewpoint that has served to be invaluable in the thematic comprehension of both Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) and No Country For Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007). Viewing Winter’s Bone through the lens of a feminist ideology allows for the examination of how women are oppressed within a male-dominated patriarchy. A feminist lens reveals the film’s implicit messages concerning gender, and how it affects social power dynamics. Conversely, viewing No Country For Old Men through a nihilistic ideological viewpoint has allowed for a broader understanding of its enigmatic themes presented over the course of the film. The film’s antagonist, Anton Chigurh, is the film’s primary embodiment of nihilism – he rejects traditional morals and is instead driven by the meaninglessness of human existence.

Body

Winter’s Bone – feminist ideological analysis is the best approach

Ree’s competence – attending to maternal and paternal duties (chopping wood and cooking)
Bechdel test, male gaze, non-sexualising clothing
Androgynous children appearances – Ashlee wishes to hunt, Sonny is squeamish
Poverty expressed through mise-en-scène
Ree’s interactions with men – Teardrop, sheriff, Thump Milton, etc.
Overwhelming male domination of cattle market – incomprehensible dialogue. Sickening yellow palette, steely blue palette of herding location
Squirrel dream sequence – 4:3, grainy handheld footage, dreamy. Chainsaw symbolic representation of the patriarchy, squirrel is the oppressed women
Narrative resolution solved through female discussion and cooperation

No Country For Old Men – nihilistic ideological approach

Barren landscapes of Texas reflect nihilism
Ed Tom monologue at start. Ed Tom and Ellis dialogue about senseless violence
Anton’s brutal murders. Leaving victims’ fates up to a coin flip. Petrol station owner and Carla Jean
Llewelyn – no empathy towards man begging for water. Takes money briefcase McGuffin, nihilist causality. Sudden offscreen death.
Ed Tom dreams

Conclusion

Ultimately, the meanings of both Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men are vastly enriched when taking particular ideological analysis into account. Viewing Winter’s Bone through a feminist lens allows for an astute appreciation of Granik’s implicit “feminist film about an anti-feminist world”. Taking the ideological viewpoint of nihilism for No Country For Old Men, on the other hand, enables the Coen Brothers’ ambiguous thematic substance to be unravelled, ultimately resulting in a deeper appreciation of the film.

Essay – Version 1

When choosing to view the opening sequence of Winter’s Bone through the lens of a feminist ideology, a critical framework rooted in analysing how women are oppressed throughout film, it becomes clear that the protagonist, Ree, is a symbol of feminism and female empowerment. She competently attends to an array of domestic tasks throughout the sequence, such as chopping wood and cooking. This indicates that Ree does not conform to typical gender roles typically presented throughout the Hollywood landscape, performing duties that are stereotypically considered both maternal and paternal. This is accentuated through Ree’s baggy non-gendered clothing – she is not sexualised in any way throughout the film, nonconforming to the ‘male gaze’ that permeates Hollywood.

Similarly, Ree’s siblings Ashlee and Sonny have notably androgynous appearances, implying that gender does not factor into how these children are to be nurtured by Ree. In fact, Granik actively subverts gender stereotypes during the ‘squirrel gutting’ sequence, during which Ashlee displays a desire to hunt animals, whereas Sonny appears to be much more squeamish and reluctant. This subtle subversion of gender stereotypes serves to reinforce the feminist ideology that the film adheres to, deepening the understanding that can be extracted from it. An interesting role reversal also occurs when Ree combs her mother’s hair later in the sequence, a typical action performed by a mother to her daughter. This emphasises the multi-faceted familial duties that Ree is burdened with attending to. The film also passes the Bechdel test numerous times during the opening minutes of the film, with the interaction between Ree and Sonja concerning a horse perhaps best exemplifying the feminist ideology conveyed by the film.

Ree can be seen standing her ground against the male characters that attempt to hinder her goals, such as the sheriff in the opening sequence who informs her that her house is to be sold for her father’s bond. She addresses the sheriff with confident remarks such as “I’ll find him”, highlighting the difficulty she faces within an oppressive, patriarchal society. Ree displays a similar level of defiance and empowerment towards her uncle Teardrop, who represents the oppressive toxic masculinity that pervades the Ozarks. A focus pull is implemented to draw our attention towards him as he edges closer to Ree. Teardrop’s appearance is notably scruffy and ragged, displaying the impoverished state of the Ozarks. A simple shot/reverse shot sequence is employed throughout this scene, as opposed to a low/high angle shot alternation. This indicates that the power dynamic between Ree and Teardrop is equal, aligning with the feminist ideology the film adheres to. After Teardrop informs Ree of Jessop’s car being burned, her expression remains stoic, emphasising Ree’s resilience she has garnered after becoming the family’s primary caregiver.

During the ‘cattle market’ sequence, the oppressive patriarchy is symbolically conveyed through the use of an overwhelming soundscape. The diegetic sound of the unintelligible language of the auction dominates the sound mix, serving to reinforce the idea that the masculine world is incomprehensible to Ree, emphasising the power dynamic between her and the men. The cow at the center of the scene appears frightened, its life dependent on the mercy of the men, further reinforcing the domineering force that the men exert. The men are also all white and middle aged, reinforcing the homogenous patriarchal hive mind the men represent.

A standout sequence of Winter’s Bone is the ‘squirrel dream’ sequence, during which Granik employs unorthodox filmmaking techniques to reinforce the female oppression presented throughout the film. Using a cheap handheld camera, black and white, alongside a 4:3 aspect ratio to create an otherworldly atmosphere, the squirrel in the sequence is a perhaps a metaphorical embodiment of Ree, with both being victims of a disrupted equilibrium. The danger faced by the squirrel is displayed through its shuddering fear, captured through the camera’s rapid and disorienting movements. A jarring diegetic chainsaw sound promptly enters the mix, perhaps being representative of the oppressive patriarchy that endangers Ree’s peaceful existence. A worms-eye-view shot of the trees is used, displaying the squirrel, and by extension, Ree, as dwarfed, emphasizing her vulnerability within an oppressive patriarchal society – a notion that can only be extracted when viewing the film through a feminist ideology.

Although No Country For Old Men could be viewed through a feminist ideological lens, it would perhaps be more insightful to analyse the film through the ideological viewpoint of nihilism. This involves considering the viewpoint that denies the existence of any inherent meaning or value in human life, instead emphasising the absurdity of existence.

The film’s opening sequence begins with a series of bleak yet breathtaking aerial wide shots of the landscape of West Texas. These barren shots serve to establish the inexplicability and meaninglessness of humanity, conveyed through the implied absence of human activity alongside the desolation of the terrain. The landscape is stark and unforgiving, with no signs of life or hope, reinforcing the film’s nihilistic worldview. The imagery is suggestive of the fact that the world is a cold and indifferent place, where human existence is inconsequential.

The opening sequence of the film also introduces the viewer to Llewelyn Moss, the main protagonist. Throughout the sequence, he is often filmed from extreme long shots to reinforce the desolate, unwelcoming landscape. He soon stumbles upon a drug deal gone wrong, after which he remains stoic and unfazed towards the array of dead bodies. Llewelyn also shows no empathy towards the dying man begging for water, implying that he has been desensitised to human suffering – a hallmark of a nihilism. After locating a briefcase full of money, the film’s determinist chain of events are set in motion – Llewelyn’s fate is sealed from the beginning, reinforcing the nihilistic ideology that the film adheres to. Llewelyn’s choice to take the money is indicative of his disregard for traditional morals and societal norms.

Nihilism is perhaps best exemplified through the character of Anton Chigurh, a ruthless hitman driven purely by his belief in the futility of humanity. In the opening sequence, the viewer is introduced to Anton committing two brutal murders in sequence. The first is using a pair of handcuffs, during which a series of birds-eye-view and mid shots display Anton’s senselessly graphic violence, which emphasises his disregard towards human existence. This also acts in stark juxtaposition to the aforementioned pensive opening scene of the film. The second murder involves Anton duping a truck driver into believing he is a policeman before killing him with a highly unconventional weapon: a cattle gun, suggesting that he views humans as mere animals whose existence is futile. He displays no remorse towards extinguishing two human lives in quick succession, reinforcing his character as a symbol of nihilism.

Anton’s flippant attitude towards human existence is perhaps best underpinned by the symbolism that can be inferred through his decision to let his victims decide their fate through a coin flip at multiple points throughout the film. Anton leaves a perfectly innocent man’s fate up to a 50/50 chance, during the ‘call it, friend-o’ sequence, reinforcing his nihilistic belief that human life is meaningless and arbitrary. During the scene, the Coens employ a tight shot/reverse shot sequence throughout, during which the camera gradually pushes in towards the two, further increasing the suspense. After the owner argues that he didn’t put anything up to win on the coin flip, Anton informs the man that “you’ve been putting it up your whole life, you just didn’t know it”, suggesting that the end of the man’s meaningless existence has already been decided.

Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s opening monologue acts as a perfect introduce to his disillusionment with the nihilism that plagues society. Throughout the monologue, he reminisces upon the senseless crimes that he has dealt with throughout his career, reflecting upon the violence that pervades Texas. He notes that a man who killed a 14-year-old girl told him that “there wasn’t any passion to it” and that “he’d do it again” if they let him out. This serves to reinforce the nihilism towards human existence that dominates the conscience of the region – the sheriff’s disillusionment towards his own traditional beliefs is perhaps reflective of the broader disillusionment that society bears towards the moralistic status quo. The opening monologue sets into motion Ed Tom’s final decision to retire during the film’s closing sequence. A conversation between Ed Tom and his uncle Ellis reveals that the violence stemming from nihilism that permeates the state has ultimately caused Ed Tom to abandon his sense of justice, and retire. When commenting on the violence, Ellis notes that “what you got ain’t nothing new. This country is hard on people. You can’t stop what’s coming”, implying that the atrocities committed by humankind transcend generation, but have instead taken a new form – nihilism. The film’s title even implies that there is no place for “old men” in today’s society – traditional morals are now devoid of any meaning. This analytical viewpoint is indicative of the nuanced meanings that can be extracted from ideological critical analysis.

Ultimately, the meanings of both Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men are vastly enriched when taking particular ideological analysis into account. Viewing Winter’s Bone through a feminist lens allows for an astute appreciation of Granik’s implicitly “feminist film about an anti-feminist world”. Taking the ideological viewpoint of nihilism for No Country For Old Men, on the other hand, enables the Coen brothers’ ambiguous thematic substance to be unravelled, ultimately resulting in a deeper appreciation of the film.

No Country For Old Men Close-Up (Closing Sequence)

Overview

The closing sequence of No Country For Old Men begins with Sheriff Ed Tom Bell conversing with his uncle Ellis, during which aging and violence, after which Ed Tom informs Ellis that he plans to retire as he has become so disillusioned by the recent violence that has plagued the state of Texas.

Afterwards, we cut to a gravestone of Carla Jean’s mother being lowered into the ground, reinforcing the inevitability of death. Carla soon returns home only to be greeted by Anton Chigurh sitting in her living room. As with the petrol station owner, Anton gives Carla a chance to decide her fate by flipping the coin. After she refuses, the viewer is not directly shown the outcome, but we are able to infer that Anton killed Carla after witnessing Anton checking his shoes for blood, an action the viewer has borne witness to at multiple points throughout the film. Afterwards, a car abruptly crashes into Anton’s at an intersection, significantly wounding him. Anton promptly bribes two young boys for their silence and flees.

In retirement, Ed Tom shares two dreams with his wife. In the first, he describes how he lost some money his father had given him. In the other, he and his father were riding through the mountains, after which his father had gone ahead to make a fire in the darkness, awaiting Ed Tom’s arrival.

Ideological Analysis: Nihilism

Ed Tom and Ellis’ conversation reveals that the violence stemming from nihilism that permeates the state has ultimately caused Ed Tom to retire. The film’s title even implies that there is no place for “old men” in society – traditional morals are now devoid of any meaning.

“What you got ain’t nothing new. This country is hard on people. You can’t stop what’s coming.”
Ed Tom’s uncle Ellis remarks upon the inevitable demise of humanity, referring to it as “what’s coming”. The atrocities committed by humankind transcend generation, but instead take a new form – nihilism.

The symbol of Carla Jean’s mother’s gravestone reinforces the fragility and futility of humanity. Anton’s implied decision to kill Carla Jean stems from his nihilistic attitude towards human existence. As she did not let the coin decide her fate, Anton decides to end her life purely due to his belief in the insignificance of human life. Carla remarks that Anton is “crazy”, suggesting that his nihilistic principles are unfathomable.

“I got here the same way the coin did”
Anton remarks upon the chain of causality that brought him to Carla Jean is the same that brought the coin.

The film’s final scene displays the despair of nihilism in a subtly chilling manner. Ed Tom notes in his dream monologue that he appeared to be older than his father, reinforcing the idea of mortality and age. His father riding ahead of him into unknown territory perhaps represents the inevitable void of death that Ed Tom will ultimately concede to, expressing that he will eventually follow his father into this unknown territory. Ed Tom’s resignation about his impending death serves to juxtapose Anton’s nihilistic ideology towards the supposed meaninglessness of human existence.

*Sheriff Ed Tom Bell recalls his dreams to his wife*

No Country For Old Men Close-Up (“What’s Coming” Sequence)

Overview

The “What’s Coming” sequence is a highly subversive and abrupt scene that reinforces the film’s nihilist ideology. The film’s main protagonist, Llewelyn Moss, is killed off-screen by Mexicans – a threat that has most likely been long forgotten in the mind of the viewer. The sequence reinforces the randomness and arbitrary nature of human existence.

Ideological Analysis: Nihilism

The sequence opens with a seemingly mundane and innocuous conversation between Llewelyn and a woman sitting in a pool. The scene abruptly fades to black, before we cut to Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s point of view. The Coens’ employ a POV shot of the sheriff running towards the crime during which camera shake is employed to heighten the tension. Ed Tom, however, is too late – the inevitable causality of death has already taken effect. The fact that Llewelyn is killed in such an unheroic manner by a group of characters we have never been introduced to serves to reinforce the meaninglessness and inexplicability of nihilism. Ed Tom looks down upon Llewelyn’s body with pity, emphasising his disillusionment towards the futility and fragility of human existence.

*Llewelyn is killed off-screen by an unknown group of Mexican assailants*

No Country For Old Men Close-Up (“Call It, Friend-o” Sequence)

Overview

The “Call It, Friend-o” sequence in No Country For Old Men is a subtly powerful scene that is exemplary of the film’s nihilist ideology. The viewer witnesses Anton Chigurh, the film’s primary symbol of nihilism, visit a petrol station and engage in conversation with the owner. The conversation soon arrives at the subject of fate and chance, before Anton pulls out a coin that’s been “travelling 22 years to get here” in his words, giving the owner a chance to determine whether he lives or dies. Although this sequence does not serve to progress the film’s plot in any regard, it is a critical scene that perhaps best represents the film’s nihilist ideology.

Ideological Analysis: Nihilism

Anton Chigurh’s flippant attitude towards human existence is perhaps best underpinned by the symbolism that can be inferred through the coin flip. Anton leaves a perfectly innocent man’s fate up to a 50/50 chance, reinforcing his nihilistic belief that human life is meaningless and arbitrary. After the owner argues that he didn’t put anything up to win on the coin flip, Anton informs the man that “you’ve been putting it up your whole life, you just didn’t know it”, suggesting that the end of the man’s meaningless existence has already been decided.

The scene’s soundscape is almost entirely diegetic, being made up of the two men’s dialogue. However, Burwell’s subtle non-diegetic score briefly enters the mix, heightening the tension that continues to build over the course of the scene. The Coens’ employ a tight shot/reverse shot sequence throughout, during which the camera gradually pushes in towards the two, further increasing the suspense.

The scene ultimately subverts the viewer’s expectations after Anton lets the man live after he correctly calls the coin, coldly informing him “well done”. Ultimately, the fact of whether the man lived or died has no bearing on the events of the film, but instead elicits the viewer to question their own moral code and views towards existence.

*Anton flips the coin to decide the petrol station owner’s fate*

No Country For Old Men Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

The opening sequence of No Country For Old Men establishes the film’s setting and three main characters, beginning with a narrated monologue by Sheriff Ed Tom Bell which accompanies a series of bleak stills of Texas. We are then introduced to Anton Chigurh, who brutally murders a policeman with a pair of handcuffs in his first scene. Afterwards, we follow Llewelyn Moss, a man who stumbles upon a drug deal gone wrong – finding a brief case containing $2 million. The sequence serves to establish the bleak, nihilistic tone that pervades the film, introducing the viewer to the gritty world inhabited by the characters. Viewing the sequence through the lens of a nihilistic ideological approach, the opening sequence could be considered a commentary on the futility of human existence.

Ideological Analysis: Nihilism

The opening sequence begins with a series of bleak yet breathtaking aerial wide shots of the landscape of West Texas. These barren shots serve to establish the inexplicability and meaninglessness of humanity. The absence of human activity and the desolation of the terrain reinforce the film’s nihilistic worldview. The landscape is stark and unforgiving, with no signs of life or hope. This imagery suggests that the world is a cold and indifferent place, where human existence is inconsequential.

The shots are accompanied by a monologue narrated by Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, in which he reminisces upon the senseless crimes that he has dealt with throughout his career, reflecting upon the violence that permeates the world. He notes that a man who killed a 14-year-old girl told him that “there wasn’t any passion to it” and that “he’d do it again” if they let him out. This serves to reinforce the nihilism towards human existence that dominates the conscience of the region. The sheriff’s disillusionment towards his own traditional beliefs reflects the broader disillusionment of society towards the status quo.

*The barren landscapes in the opening sequence reinforce the unforgiving, desolate world in which the film is set*

“I was Sheriff of this county when I was 25 years old. Hard to believe. My grandfather was a lawman, father too. Me and him was sheriffs at the same time, him up in Plano and me out here. I think he’s pretty proud of that. I know I was. Some of the old time Sheriffs never even wore a gun. A lotta folks find that hard to believe. Jim Scarborough never carried one. That’s the younger Jim. Gaston Borkins wouldn’t wear one up in Comanche County. I always liked to hear about the old-timers. Never missed a chance to do so. You can’t help but compare yourself against the old-timers. Can’t help but wonder how they’d have operated in these times. There was this boy I sent to the electric chair at Huntsville here awhile back, my arrest and my testimony. He killed a 14 year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn’t any passion to it. Told me that he’d been plannin’ to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out, he’d do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell, be there in about fifteen minutes. I don’t know what to make of that. I surely don’t. The crime you see now, it’s hard to even take its measure. It’s not that I’m afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willin’ to die to even do this job. but I don’t want to push my chips forward and go out and meet somethin’ I don’t understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He’d have to say: ‘Okay, I’ll be part of this world.’”
Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s opening monologue

Afterwards, we are introduced to the character of Anton Chigurh – a ruthless hitman – who has just been arrested. A series of birds-eye-view and mid closeups display Anton mercilessly strangling the policeman that arrested him with a pair of handcuffs. This display of graphic violence reinforces Anton’s disregard towards human existence, also acting in stark juxtaposition to the pensive opening scene of the film. We then immediately bear witness to a second murder committed by Anton, in which he dupes a truck driver into believing he is a policeman before killing him with a highly unconventional weapon: a cattle gun, suggesting that he views humans as mere animals whose existence is futile. He displays no remorse towards extinguishing two human lives in quick succession, reinforcing his character as a symbol of nihilism.

*Anton Chigurh is displayed performing two merciless murders in the opening sequence, reinforcing his nihilistic ideology*

The final portion of the opening sequence introduces us to the film’s heroic protagonist, Llewelyn Moss. These scenes are also pensive, with dialogue sparsely implemented to reinforce the barrenness of the setting. Moss is also often filmed from extreme long shots to further reinforce this.

He soon stumbles upon the drug deal gone wrong, after which he remains stoic and unfazed towards the array of dead bodies. He shows no empathy towards the dying man begging for water, implying that he has been desensitised to human suffering – a hallmark of a nihilism.

After locating the briefcase full of money, the film’s determinist chain of events are set in motion – Llewelyn’s fate is sealed from the beginning, reinforcing the nihilistic ideology that the film adheres to. Llewelyn’s choice to take the money is indicative of his disregard for traditional morals and societal norms.

*Llewelyn discovers the money-filled briefcase, the McGuffin that allows the events of the film to be set in motion*

Ideology Brainstormed

Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is a film that distinctly adheres to a feminist ideology. Feminism is an ideological approach that seeks to critique how women are represented throughout film, examining the oppression women face by a dogmatically patriarchal society. Applying a feminist ideological approach to Winter’s Bone reveals the film’s underlying message concerning gender and how it affects power dynamics within society.

Throughout the film, the role of women within a patriarchal, impoverished society is explored. The film’s protagonist, Ree, defies the expectations of women within a male-dominated society. She provides for her siblings and catatonic mother, whilst also uncovering the mystery of her father in order to protect her home. Ree performs actions that typically associated with both maternal and paternal duties, such as cooking, nurturing, alongside tree chopping and hunting.

Ree’s uncle, Teardrop, serves to represent the toxic masculinity that exists with the patriarchal community that pervades the Ozarks. He initially serves as a hostile force inhibiting Ree’s quest to find her father, but gradually begins to support her actions as the film progresses.

Conversely, No Country For Old Men (Ethan and Joel Coen, 2007) is an ideologically ambiguous film that can be viewed through a plethora of ideological approaches. My chosen ideological approach to view the film through is nihilism.

Applying a nihilistic approach involves considering the viewpoint that denies the existence of any inherent meaning or value in life, instead emphasising the absurdity of existence. Nihilism holds that traditional moral values, religious beliefs and social norms are mere illusions that mask the fundamental emptiness of existence. No Country For Old Men explores this idea in a variety of ways throughout the film.

The film’s primary antagonist, Anton Chigurh, is the film’s embodiment of nihilism. His motivations and philosophies are notably enigmatic, rejecting traditional moral values and inferably believing instead in the inherent meaningless of human existence. He acts indifferently to human life, being a hitman who kills without remorse or emotion, often letting the roll of a coin determine the fate of his victims. Chigurh’s worldview presented throughout the film ultimately reflects a fundamental belief in the meaningless of existence, with his repugnant actions being justified by his conviction in the fact that he believes nothing in life has inherent value or worth.

Another of the three primary characters, Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, serves to juxtapose Chigurh’s nihilistic ideology. He holds a strong moral code based upon his traditional values concerning the importance of human life. Bell’s strong morals are challenged by the seemingly senseless and inexplicable violence that pervades Texas.

The setting of the film itself, the barren and desolate landscapes of the film serve to reinforce the theme of nihilism. The desolation represents the absence of life and meaning within the world. It also highlights Chigurh’s belief in the futility of human endeavour and the insignificance of human existence. The Coens’ decision to implement a mere 16 minutes of non-diegetic composed score throughout the film also serves to accentuate this idea.

*A mind map of potential ideologies to take into account when analysing No Country For Old Men*

Winter’s Bone Close-Up (Closing Sequence)

Overview

The closing sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is a powerful yet subdued finale that harkens home the feminist ideology that pervades the film. Ree must perform the horrific act of cutting off her dead father’s hands which will serve as proof of his death. After taking the hands to the sheriff, Ree receives the money portion of her father’s bond. Teardrop visits the family one last timing, informing Ree that he knows who killed Jessop. The sequence and film ends with Ree, Ashlee, and Sonny sitting on the porch of their home, during which Ree reassures her siblings that she will always be there to support them.

*The final shot of the film – Ree stares wistfully into the distance as Sonny looks to her for support. Ashlee plays the banjo, gifted to her by Teardrop*

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

Throughout the film, Ree’s struggle against problems forced upon her by a patriarchal society is a central theme, and this is resolved through her ingenuity and resourcefulness. The only help that is offered to Ree is from the women in the community, further emphasising the feminist ideology of the film, as the men are portrayed as the root of all of the problems that Ree encounters. The narrative resolution of the film is highly unconventional, as the conflict is resolved through cooperation and discussion, rather than a typical violent ‘showdown’ that might occur in a stereotypical Hollywood flick. This unexpected narrative resolution subverts the conventions of a male-driven society, highlighting the idea that problems can be solved through trust and selfless actions. The entire narrative resolution is also female-oriented, reinforcing the feminist ideology of the film.

As Ree cuts off Jessop’s hands, he is ironically objectified, as he only exists as a corpse, subverting the typical male gaze and objectification of women throughout Hollywood. Ree is asked to perform a highly repugnant action, cutting off her father’s hands, but she rises to the challenge and overcomes it, further conveying the notion of female empowerment. During the scene in which Ree delivers Jessop’s hands to the police, the sheriff is ironically repulsed by the hands, but Ree is not, reinforcing the film’s feminist ideology. Ree also possesses leverage over the sheriff as he did not arrest Teardrop earlier in the film, which also contributes to this.

During the final scene, Teardrop gifts two chicks to the children, passing down the responsibility of parenthood. He also tells Ree that he knows who killed Jessop, implying that he is now fuelled by toxic masculinity in order to take action and seek revenge upon his brother. This highlights the idea that Teardrop’s misguided sense of loyalty is a negative force, and that it is ultimately through the actions of women that the problems in the film are resolved. In conclusion, the closing sequence is a poignant resolution to Ree’s story, subverting the typical narrative conventions of the finale of a typical Hollywood film.

Winter’s Bone Close-Up (“Squirrel Dream” Sequence)

Overview

The “squirrel dream” sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is a surreal and symbolic representation of the film’s central character, Ree. The sequence is a stark departure from the rest of the film, utilising unorthodox techniques such as black and white, grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera, This serves to create a dreamscape-like atmosphere, acting as an extended metaphor for Ree, alongside the patriarchal oppression she faces over the course of the film.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

As previously mentioned, the sequence is a striking departure from the aesthetic of the rest of the film. Granik utilises unorthodox techniques such as black and white, grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera. The sequence is also shot with a vignette, 4:3 aspect ratio, furthering contributing to the surreal nature of the sequence.

*The squirrel, representing the oppressed women, is centrally framed in the dreamscape black and white 4:3 vignette*

The non-diegetic composed score, which rises in the mix, builds a pensive and ominous atmosphere, further emphasising the surreal and dreamlike quality of the sequence. The squirrel in the sequence is a metaphor for Ree, who is a victim of a disrupted naturalistic environment. The squirrel’s peaceful existence is displayed through the squirrel’s shuddering fear. The camera movements are rapid and disorienting, overwhelming the viewer and adding to the otherworldly nature of the sequence. A worms-eye-view shot of the trees is used, displaying the squirrel, and by extension, Ree, as dwarfed, emphasizing her vulnerability.

The jarring diegetic sound of a chainsaw, representing the squirrel’s impending doom, is symbolic of the masculine-oriented world that Ree is a part of, creating a sense of foreboding. The Dutch angle shot of vultures tearing at carrion symbolises Ree’s poverty-stricken way of life, with the vultures themselves representing the men in her life who cause destruction and harm. The vultures merely abandon the destruction they have caused, representing the fact that Ree must deal with the aftermath of Jessop’s disappearance. This further bolsters the feminist ideology of the film. The final shot of billowing smoke represents ultimate destruction, both physically and emotionally, underscoring the themes of poverty and struggle that pervade the film.

In conclusion, the “squirrel dream” sequence is a surreal yet powerful representation of the film’s protagonist, Ree and the struggles she must face head-on The use of visual and audio techniques creates an otherworldly, dreamlike atmosphere, enhancing the impact of the sequence on the viewer. The feminist ideology of the film is rooted in the representation of Ree as a victim of a masculine-oriented world, and the themes of poverty and struggle that pervade the film.

Winter’s Bone Close-Up (“Cattle Market” Sequence)

Overview

The “cattle market” sequence in Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) serves as a poignant representation of the film’s feminist ideology. We witness a cattle auction, which highlights the patriarchal and oppressive nature of the Ozarkian society. The sequence demonstrates the stark contrast between Ree’s world and the world of the oppressive men in power, through visual and auditory elements.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The scene takes place in an entirely male-dominated space, where the men possess the power of life and death over the cattle they are auctioning. The diegetic sound of the unintelligible language of the auction dominates the sound mix, serving to reinforce the idea that the masculine world is incomprehensible, and emphasise the power dynamic between Ree and the men. The cow at the center of the scene appears frightened, its life dependent on the mercy of the men, further reinforcing the unequal power dynamic in the room.

*The males are homogeneous*, *symbolised as an oppressive force against Ree. The bars act to separate Ree from the men, displaying the barrier between the two worlds*

Ree is separated from the men by the bars that line the auction space, and her position in the scene is further emphasised by her dwarfed appearance among the intimidating men. The interior of the auction house is sickeningly yellow, connoting the monotonous and oppressive lives led by the men. The cattle also metaphorically mirror Ree’s current state of affairs – the cattle are being sold at auction, symbolic of the notion of Ree’s house potentially being sold for Jessop’s bail bond.

We then cut to a new location in which the steely blue colour palette of the corporate herding facility further emphasises the oppressive nature of the situation, furthered by the cattle moving in the same direction as Ree. When Ree calls for Thump Milton at the top of her lungs, he is unable to comprehend her, further reinforcing the invisible yet prevalent divide between the male and female worlds. At this point, the non-diegetic composed score is discordant, creating a sense of urgency. It is layered in tandem with the cries of the cattle, creating a sensory overload which reflects Ree’s distraught state of mind. The sight of one calf being separated from the others, helpless and screaming, serves as a metaphorical representation of Ree, further conveying the idea that Ree is a victim of the patriarchal society in which she lives.

In conclusion, the cattle market sequence is a powerful demonstration of the film’s feminist ideology, as it serves to highlight the oppressive and patriarchal nature of the Ozark society. Through visual and auditory elements, Debra Granik reinforces the idea that Ree is excluded from the masculine-dominated world, and that she is a victim of the oppressive power dynamic at play.

Winter’s Bone Close-Up (“Squirrel Gutting” Sequence)

Overview

The “Squirrel Gutting” sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) displays Ree, Ashlee, and Sonny hunting for a squirrel to eat. This sequence serves to trounce the patriarchal preconceptions towards this duty, as she nurtures her siblings to thrive in the unforgiving land of the Ozarks.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The scene opens with a wide shot filmed on a long lens that displays a centrally-framed Ree wielding a hunting rifle, with Ashlee and Sonny intimately nestled by her side. This immediately subverts the patriarchal associations towards men wielding weapons. Ree simultaneously attends to the maternal duty of nurturing her siblings to thrive in the wild, alongside the paternal duty of administering the hunting. Sonny’s actor sneeze in a manner that appears to be ‘off-script’, to which Ree responds with a naturalistic “bless you” – an ad-libbed yet intimate moment that develops the bond between the siblings.

Diegetic ambience is layered alongside the hushed voices of the characters in the sound mix, reflecting their anticipation towards killing the squirrel. Ashlee interestingly shows heightened interested in learning the art of hunting than Sonny – a notion that is representative of the next generation of women replacing and trouncing the typically patriarchal duties held by men. Ashlee pulls the trigger of the rifle with no reluctance, emphasising her willingness to learn the methods of survival.

We then cut to the family gathered around an outside table as they prepare to skin the squirrel in preparation for cooking it. A low-angle shot of Sonny looking up to Ree illustrates the fact that she is imparting her knowledge of survival onto him. Sonny is notably squeamish towards touching the squirrel’s guts, emasculating him and supporting the feminist ideology that the film strives for. Ree ultimately teaches a practical life lesson to Sonny, fulfilling the parental role that Jessop never could.

*Ree nurturing her siblings in the means of survival*

Following this, we cut to Ree slicing logs – a typically masculine duty. The viewer is able to discern Ree’s uncle, Teardrop, looming in the background of the scene, representing the oppressive male force that hinders Ree’s ability to thrive. A focus pull is implemented to draw our attention towards him as he edges closer to Ree. Teardrop’s appearance is notably scruffy and ragged, displaying the impoverished atmosphere of the Ozarks. A simple shot/reverse shot sequence is employed throughout this scene, as opposed to a low/high angle shot alternation. This indicates that the power dynamic between Ree and Teardrop is equal, aligning with the feminist ideology the film conveys. He informs her of Jessop’s car being burned, to which Ree maintains a stoic expression. She does not react emotionally and dramatically, which is to be expected of the female stereotype portrayed throughout Hollywood. This emphasises Ree’s strengthened resilience she has garnered after becoming the house’s caregiver. Finally, Ree adamantly refuses the drugs offered to her by Teardrop, which is indicative of her mental fortitude over Teardrop, who is reliant on the drugs. She acts as a role model for her siblings, leading them along a path of purity despite the fact that her mother, father, and uncle are all involved with drugs.

Winter’s Bone Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

The opening sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) establishes the eminently feminist viewpoint within an ‘anti-feminist’ world that is presented over the course of the film. We are introduced to Ree Dolly, a poverty-stricken young woman who takes care of her family made up of her two siblings and catatonic mother in the mountainous Ozark region of Missouri. The underlying ‘McGuffin’ that drives the film’s narrative is also established in the sequence, being the unknown whereabouts of Ree’s father, Jessop. The sequence also establishes the precedent of not conforming to the ‘male gaze’ that typically pervades throughout Hollywood. Ree is not sexualised at any point, and the main narrative occurrences are from the voices and actions of women. The men in the film, such as Teardrop and the sheriff, merely act as a hindrance to Ree’s journey.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The film opens with a non-diegetic lullaby, immediately connoting a sense of intimate maternity. Cutting to a wide shot, the children are framed behind the bars of a bed-frame — symbolising the notion that they are trapped within their environment. This opening sequence also conveys the cyclical nature of nurturing – Ashlee takes care of her toy kitten, implying the idea that she herself has been nurtured by Ree. Throughout the sequence, mise-en-scène is implemented within the domestic landscape, being littered with waste and abandoned items. This, alongside the characters clothing being ragged and humble, emphasises the poverty-stricken way of life Ree and her family leads.

The viewer witnesses Ree competently attending to an array of domestic tasks throughout the opening sequence, such as chopping wood and cooking. This indicates that Ree does not conform to typical gender roles typically presented throughout the Hollywood landscape, accentuated by her baggy non-gendered clothing. Ree is not sexualised in any way throughout the film, standing her ground against the male characters that attempt to hinder her goals. Similarly, Ashlee and Sonny have notably androgynous appearances, implying that gender does not factor into how these children are to be nurtured by Ree.

All of the opening scenes are presented to the audience through the use of a handheld camera, as to illustrate an authentic depiction of reality. The film is also shot entirely on location, as to convey an accurate representation of life in the Ozarks. Interestingly, the cast of the film swapped clothes with the local residents of the Ozarks, further preserving the authenticity of the location. Furthering this, the film does not employ any deliberate blocking, which can be seen through Ree’s face being partially obscured by the clothes hanging on the line. This reinforces Debra Granik priority of emphasising naturalism over choreography.

Ree is forced to take on a maternal role, in which her siblings look up to her as a mother figure. Her appearance starkly contrasts that of Ilsa in Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942), as the film portrays women in a much more empowering light. The house itself has no beds – the children are forced to sleep on chairs. Ree also cooks breakfast using lard, a cheaper alternative to oil, reinforcing the poverty-stricken way of life the family leads. An interesting role reversal also occurs when Ree combs her mother’s hair, a typical action performed by a mother to her daughter. This emphasises the multi-faceted familial duties that Ree is burdened with attending to.

*The children sleep on sofas and chairs instead of beds, demonstrating their impoverished way of life*

During the scene when Ree drops off her siblings at school, a closeup of Ree peering into the classroom is displayed. She glances longingly behind the closed door, illustrating Ree’s wistfulness towards rekindling her lost innocence. Afterwards, Ree meets Sonya to discuss her horse, she is framed in a child-like manner than starkly juxtaposes Sonya’s grizzled appearance – she has been hardened by the strenuous way of life in the Ozarks. The film could also be argued as a feminist film at this point, due to the Bechdel test being passed at this early point in the film: Ree and Sonya are two named women having a conversation about horses, unrelated to men.

The sequence concludes with the sudden arrival of the sheriff, who informs Ree about Jessop’s upcoming court appearance and the risk of her house being sold in order to cover his bail bond. During this scene, an ominous non-diegetic composed score underlies the tense gravitas of the situation. Ree stands her ground confidently, addressing the sheriff with confident remarks such as “I’ll find him”. We view the situation from Ree’s empowered perspective, highlighting the difficulty she faces in a patriarchal society from a viewpoint of oppression.

Feminist Film: An Introduction

Feminist Film Theory

Feminist film theory is a lens through which film can be viewed through, deriving from feminist theory that arose during the second-wave feminist movement that emerged during the 1970s in the United States. The theory is a critical framework rooted in analysing how women are represented throughout film, examining the oppression women face by a dogmatically patriarchal society.

The Bechdel Test

The Bechdel Test is a means of evaluating the representation of women in films. Popularised by American cartoonist Alison Bechdel, it is frequently employed as a benchmark for evaluating the representation of women in films. A film passes the test if it meets the following criteria:

It has at least two named female characters (1)
Who have a conversation with each other (2)
About something other than a man (3)

*Alison Bechdel, the cartoonist who created the Bechdel Test*

The “Male Gaze”

The “male gaze” is a subsidiary facet linked closely to feminist film theory created by British feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey. In her essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” published in 1975, Mulvey argues that mainstream Hollywood films are constructed from a male POV, with the camera merely serving as an extension of how a stereotypical male views the world.

According to Mulvey, women in films are typically objectified in order to satisfy the male desire, with purposeful camera placement accentuating this. In effect, the “male gaze” that permeates throughout all of cinema reinforces patriarchal values, emphasising the notion that women exist solely for male pleasure.

*Laura Mulvey, the theorist behind the “male gaze”*

No Country For Old Men Contextualised

No Country for Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007) is a neo-Western crime thriller adapted from Cormac McCarthy’s 2005 novel of the same name. Premiering at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival, the film was received to positive acclaim, soon being nominated for eight Academy Awards, and ultimately winning four including the coveted Best Picture award.

Brothers Joel and Ethan Coen are a prolific American filmmaking duo, of which whose films are made up of an eclectic mix of genres and styles, known for subverting the conventions of genre in a tasteful and nuanced manner. The brothers write, direct, and produce their films together with Joel typically taking screen credit for directing, and Ethan producing. The two also jointly edit, assuming the pseudonym Roderick Jaynes for screen credit. The duo have collectively been nominated for 13 Academy Awards, for films such as Barton Fink (1991), Fargo (1996), and Inside Llewyn Davis (2013).

Producer Scott Rudin initially bought the rights to the novel, suggesting that the Coen brothers should adapt it for the screen. The brothers were instantly enamoured with the book’s unconventional approach to narrative, one the subverted the Western genre – the story did not end with a typical showdown between good and evil. The title of the novel is taken from the opening line of Irish poet William Butler Yeats’ poem Sailing to Byzantium (1928), being “that is no country for old men”. The film remained mostly faithful to the source material, with the main removal being Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s backstory.

The film’s cinematography was conducted by the esteemed Roger Deakins, arguably one of the greatest cinematographers of the 21st Century. Deakins has worked on cinematographic masterpieces such as The Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont, 1994), and has also had a long-standing relationship with the Coens, working on films such as The Big Lebowski (1998) and O Brother, Where Art Thou (2000).

Deakins’ cinematography in No Country for Old Men is widely considered one of the film‘s stand-out aspects. Throughout the film, he masterfully captures the bleakness of West Texas, making apt use of natural lighting and shadow to bring a breathtaking sense of cinematic realism to the film. Deakins noted that it was a challenge to deviate from his typical stylised visual flair, having to make it “very realistic to match the story”.

*A wide shot from the opening sequence displaying a visually striking sunrise*, *emblematic of Deakins’ cinematic grandeur*

No Country for Old Men’s score was composed by Carter Burwell, who has scored numerous films for the Coen brothers. The score is notably minimalist, with the film containing a mere 16 minutes of music. This idea was suggested to Joel by Ethan, who was persuaded to go along with the idea after initially being skeptical towards it. The sparse score that is utilised throughout the film is mostly made up of obscure instruments such as standing bells that are typically found within Buddhist meditation. This, alongside, a innumerable number of ambient sound effects and foley serves to create a pensive atmosphere throughout the film.

No Country For Old Men (Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, 2007)

No Country for Old Men (Coen Brothers, 2007) is an American neo-Western crime thriller based on the 2005 novel of the same name. Set in West Texas during 1980, the film follows three main characters: Llewelyn Moss, a war veteran who stumbles upon a bag containing $2 million at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong; Anton Chigurh, a psychopathic hitman who is hunting down the whereabouts of the money; and Ed Tom Bell, the local sheriff tasked with investigating the crime.

*Anton Chigurh, a hitman trying to track down the $2 million*

The film is widely regarded as one of the greatest within directorial duo, Joel and Ethan Coen’s filmography. The gripping neo-Western narrative from multiple perspectives in tandem with a showcase of stunning cinematography courtesy of Roger Deakins culminates in an enthralling viewing experience. Despite the film excelling in characterising each of the three main characters, particularly Chigurh, it is also filled with pensive sequences with little to no dialogue. This convention typical of the Western genre serves to create an apt level of suspense and tension, further immersing the viewer into the world of the film. The film’s underlying themes are also particularly ambiguous, which can be seen most notably within Chigurh’s enigmatic motivations. He often leaves the fate of his victims up to a coin flip, perhaps implying that he is driven by nihilism. The film does not shy away from its depiction of graphic violence, with an early scene of Chigurh strangling a man with a pair of handcuffs immediately establishing the brutal tone of the film.

Upon watching the film for the first time, I was initially disillusioned by the ending, finding it particularly unsatisfying. However, I found the film generally, alongside the ending to be much more encapsulating upon second viewing – its subversive brilliance was truly cemented. However, I did still feel slightly disengaged during the scenes involving Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, finding his character to be the least compelling.

Overall, I would rate No Country For Old Men ★★★★.

Spectatorship Visualised

Spectatorship is the act of watching and engaging with a film, encompassing how audiences respond emotionally to the themes and ideologies portrayed. Below is a mind map that explores the concept of spectatorship, discussing the different forms it can take, the effect of audience positioning, alongside the different readings that a particular viewer may align themselves with.

Winter’s Bone Contextualised

Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is an independent drama film based on a 2006 novel of the same name by Daniel Woodrell. Premiering at the Sundance Film Festival in 2010, the film won both the Grand Jury Prize, alongside the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award. The film also received two 2011 Oscar nominations – Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay. The film also kickstarted the acting careers of both Jennifer Lawrence and John Hawkes, who both received Academy Award nominations for their performances in the film.

The film’s director, Debra Granik, is an American independent filmmaker known for directing films including her debut, Down to the Bone (2004) and most recently Leave No Trace (2018). Considered a leading voice in independent cinema, Granik’s films often explore themes of poverty and working-class life, with Winter’s Bone being no exception. The film was widely praised for its naturalistic performances and filmmaking techniques.

Winter’s Bone was produced by Granik and Anne Rossellini through their production company, Anonymous Content. The film’s budget was $2 million, which after multiple failed attempts to finance was provided by a private equity deal. The film grossed $6 million at the box office, tripling its budget. The film was shot on location in the Ozarks of southern Missouri. Many of the supporting roles that spear in the film were first-time actors from the surrounding area, and each home seen within the film were already established – no sets were built. Granik kept most of the existing aesthetics within the homes, with added props being provided by the Ozark people in the community.

Winter’s Bone also features a score predominantly made up of gospel, traditional folk, and bluegrass music, alongside an original soundtrack composed by Dickon Hinchcliffe. The score, particularly the main theme “Didn’t Leave Nobody but the Baby” serves to accentuate the rural environment of the Ozarks, reinforcing the themes of poverty and self-sufficiency. Hinchcliffe’s original compositions aids the film in creating a sense of foreboding and unease, heightening the tension as Ree searches for her father.

*Dickon Hinchcliffe, the film’s composer*

The film’s cinematographer, Michael McDonough utilised a notably muted colour palette throughout the film, emphasising the rugged rurality of the mountainous Ozark region. Handheld cameras were employed throughout the film, building scenes from single perspectives in order to create a sense of realism.

*Cinematographer Michael McDonough uses a grainy combination of yellows, browns, greens, and greys to create an aesthetic reminiscent of a worn photograph*

Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010)

Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is a film focusing around Ree, played by Jennifer Lawrence in a breakout performance, a poverty-stricken teenage girl living in the rural Ozarks of Missouri. She is borne with the burden of taking care of her two siblings due to her mentally ill mother being unable to do so. Ree is soon informed by the Sheriff that if her father, whose whereabouts is unknown, does not appear in court, their house will be sold to cover his bail bond. Ree then sets out on a quest to locate her missing father, learning the truth of his whereabouts. The film is shot in a mostly naturalistic style, drawing attention to the rugged beauty of the Ozarks. Granik makes use of interesting techniques, such as long takes and a steady camera, which serve to immerse the audience and create a sense of realism.

Debra Granik, the film’s director, is a highly respected independent filmmaker with a career spanning over two decades. Known for her ability to create powerful and nuanced stories, Granik’s films are highly regarded that explore complex and challenging themes. Winter’s Bone is a prime example of this, exploring themes of poverty, family, and self-sufficiency.

The film also helped to launch the careers of several of its cast members, most notably Jennifer Lawrence, who went on to become a highly prolific film star. The film was also critically acclaimed, receiving a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, alongside several Academy Award nominations. The film also won several awards, including the Grand Jury Prize at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival.

Personally, I did not enjoy Winter’s Bone. The plot appears to be mildly intriguing in concept, but I found the execution to be disengaging and unrewarding. The film moves at an excruciatingly slow pace, one which does not feel deliberate, until the film’s mildly subversive climax. It is filled with uninteresting and unlikeable characters, and I found the cinematography to be serviceable at best. I did find small moments of enjoyment throughout the film, such as the vignette squirrel sequence and breathtaking scenery of the Ozarks.

Overall, I would rate Winter’s Bone ★★.

Ideology Visualised

Ideology is an agreed upon set of dominant beliefs of philosophies attributed to a particular person, or group or people. Below is a mind map that explores the concept of ideology, alongside how it can be presented in film.

Component 1b: US Film Since 2005

The next component we are studying is Component 1b: US Film Since 2005. This section of the course entails two films of study, Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010), an independent film and No Country for Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007), a mainstream film. Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as two new specialist study areas – Ideology and Spectatorship. This component also involves a direct comparison between the two studied films, akin to Component 1a.

Component 1a: Hollywood 1930-1990 (Comparative Study) — Contexts

Compare how far your chosen films reflect their different production contexts.
Sample Assessment Materials

Plan:

Introduction

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) are two films that are shining exemplars of two starkly contrasting production contexts within Hollywood. Casablanca was a film produced by Warner Brothers under the Hollywood Studio System during the Golden Age – one which epitomises the rigid and traditional Classical Hollywood style of the era. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde sought to defy the preconceptions of the Golden Age after the dissolution of the studio system, taking influence from the French New Wave to employ modern technology and unorthodox filmmaking techniques. The film foregrounds a gritty portrayal of two real life criminals – one which does not shy away from graphic violence and sexual undertones – birthing the New Hollywood era of filmmaking.

Body

Institutional context: Compare how Casablanca was produced by Warner Bros under the studio system (vertical integration, unbreakable contracts, star system, Hays code etc.). Whereas Bonnie and Clyde was produced after the Paramount Case, allowing for a greater deal of creative freedom within Warner Bros.

Technological context: Compare the styles of filmmaking (Classical Hollywood style vs French New Wave-influenced style). Mention specific examples rooted in key sequences, alongside the technology available to the studios. Filmed in the studio vs on-location.

Historical context: Compare how Casablanca was filmed and set during the First World War (Vichy water implications), but Bonnie and Clyde is set in a Great Depression 1930s (FDR posters plastered on the wall) , but released during the 1960s.

Comparing how the film stars are presented: Casablanca (Ilsa is glamorous and pristine, through key and fill lighting, Rick’s rugged appearance accentuated by lighting).

Conclusion

Ultimately, both films are apt representations of the production contexts that both films were produced under respectively. Casablanca epitomises the Classical Hollywood style typical of the films of the Golden Age, whereas Bonnie and Clyde paved the way for the New Hollywood era – embracing graphic violence and sexual content that defied the typicalities of the more traditional, conservative films of the previous age.

Essay – Version 1

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) are two films that are shining exemplars of two starkly contrasting production contexts within Hollywood. Casablanca was a film produced by Warner Brothers under the Hollywood Studio System that operated under the practice of vertical integration during the Golden Age. The film epitomises the rigid and traditional Classical Hollywood style of the era. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde sought to defy the preconceptions of the Golden Age after the dissolution of the studio system. By taking influence from the French New Wave, employing modern technology and unorthodox filmmaking techniques, this appealed to the newly diverse cinematic landscape enjoyed by audiences throughout this period. The film foregrounds a gritty portrayal of two real life criminals – one which does not shy away from graphic violence and sexual undertones – birthing the New Hollywood era of filmmaking.

Casablanca’s conception originated with Warner Bros. buying the rights to a unproduced stage play, Everybody Comes to Rick’s, for $20,000. Afterwards, the studio quickly began work on building bespoke sets for the film, creating the illusion of exoticism by foregrounding the lavish production values that the studio poured into the construction. A clear example of this can be seen in the opening sequence of the film in which an expansively lavish set of Casablanca populated with countless extras takes place. This is revealed to the viewer through camerawork typical of the Classical Hollywood style: a crane shot that tilts down to reveal the opulent set. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde strove to purport the highest level of authenticity and thus, chose to film the vast majority of the film on location with the implementation of natural lighting. The opening sequence of the film introduces us to Clyde through a wide shot filmed through a mosquito net, creating an atmosphere that feels much more tangible than Casablanca’s constructed reality. Akin to the French New Wave, the use of natural lighting serves to add an extra layer of authenticity to the film.

Casablanca is a product of the Golden Age of Hollywood that exemplifies the concept of film star ‘stables’ that were owned by the studios. Due to ‘unbreakable contracts’ that exclusively contracted actors to specific studios, Warner Bros. endeavoured to make apt use of their stars. With this in mind, the studio chose to cast Humphrey Bogart as Rick, a star who was often typecast as the ‘rugged individual’ archetype in films such as The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941). Through this, Rick’s character was customised to suit Bogart’s acting capabilities, introducing us to him in the ‘Leaving Rick’s’ sequence by filming Bogart from a centrally framed low-angle shot whilst being cast in shadow to accentuate his masculinity. In addition to this, during the Paris flashback sequence, Rick dons a trench coat and hat during the train station scene. This subtly pays homage to Humphrey Bogart’s classic detective roles he was cast as during the Film Noir scene, demonstrating that Warner Bros. attempted to fully capitalise on the ‘stable’ of stars they possessed. The studio also chose Ingrid Bergman to play Ilsa, an internationally renowned actress. Throughout the film, Bergman was highly glamourised through the use of lavish costume design, hair, makeup, alongside the use of key lighting and soft focus to accentuate her beauty. This is highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style that Warner Bros. was renowned for at the time.

In contrast, the titular couple in Bonnie and Clyde are presented in a vastly different light. Instead of conforming to the ‘rugged individual’ protagonist archetype, Clyde is presented in a much more nuanced manner due to his ambiguous sexuality that Warren Beatty (producer and star) campaigned for. Towards the end of the opening sequence of the film, a closeup is displayed of Clyde drinking a bottle of Coke, which both connotes provocatively phallic imagery and is indicative of the Prohibition Era that was in effect during the 1930s. This is furthered later in the film when Clyde appears to be uninterested or perhaps unable to engage in sexual activity with Bonnie. Bonnie is presented in a much more seductive manner in contrast to Ilsa, which is immediately demonstrated to the audience through the first shot of the film – an extreme closeup of her luscious red lips, a symbol of sex. This, alongside the fact that Bonnie appears naked for the first scene of the film, presents her feminine beauty in a more natural and intimate manner than Ilsa’s artificially maintained beauty.

Casablanca’s production was spearheaded by Jack L. Warner – the president of Warner Brothers. A primary agenda of Warner was to feature the ongoing war prominently in the studio’s films, in an attempt to subtly signal America to join the war efforts. This is particularly evident in the final scene of the film, in which Captain Renault chooses to bin the Vichy-branded water bottle, displayed to the viewer through a closeup. This is symbolic of the studio’s negative views towards fascism, perhaps being indicative of the side the country eventually took when America joined the war. Historical context is also important to consider when evaluating the production contexts of Bonnie and Clyde. Although the film was released in 1967, it is set during the 1930s – a time in which the effects of the Great Depression coursed through all of America, particularly the poorer Southern states in which the film takes place. For example, the streets that the couple walk down in the opening sequence are barren, reflective of the Great Depression. The mise-en-scène is also meticulously selected to reflect the time period, such as the FDR presidential campaign posters that are plastered to the walls, serving to immerse the audience in the 1930s. Through this, viewers who had lived through this time period themselves were encouraged to empathise with Bonnie and Clyde’s struggles during this period of poverty and bleakness.

Casablanca was shot entirely in black and white, a typical feature of Warner Brothers’ ‘house style’ at the time. By 1942, colour had been implemented into a number films for around a decade, with studios such as MGM immediately choosing to embrace colour. MGM would go on to produce The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) a landmark of the cutting-edge Technicolor technology, but colour was considered by many other studios to merely be a ‘gimmick’. During the time of Casablanca’s release, black and white was arguably at its peak, and Warner Bros. believed that choosing to film in black and white – despite the introduction of colour technology – demonstrated artistic nuance, as the iconic ‘noir aesthetic’ had now been refined for over 50 years. Colour was not as ‘sterile’ as black and white was during this time, only being able to display highly saturated colours. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde was shot in colour, aptly portraying a much grittier and authentic atmosphere in contrast to Casablanca romanticised ‘noir’ aesthetic. The film’s cinematographer, Burnett Guffey, once stated that Arthur Penn wanted the film to be “as real and untheatrical as possible” and the decision to embrace modern Technicolor technology supports this.

During the production of Casablanca, the studio was significantly limited by the Hays Code – a series of regulations that forbade graphic violence and sexual content to be displayed within the film. This is particularly evident in the final scene of the film in which Rick shoots Major Strasser, after which no blood is shown, indicative of the Hays Code restrictions. This conservative presentation of violence soon became a typical convention of the Classical Hollywood style, to which audiences became accustomed during the Golden Age. This greatly contrasts with how violence is presented throughout Bonnie and Clyde. After the dissolution of the studio system that occurred after the result of the Paramount Case, the Hays Code gradually became more lax over time, resulting in Bonnie and Clyde’s presentation of graphic violence as a means to shock audiences who had become accustomed to the conservative presentation of violence typical of Classical Hollywood. At the end of the ‘Botched Heist’ sequence, Clyde shoots a man in the mouth through a car window. This is presented to the viewer through rapid editing, cutting quickly between closeups of the man clinging to the car and reactionary shots of Clyde. The film does not shy away from its presentation of blood, with the film implementing the use of squibs filled with stage blood, which exploded upon impact. These were employed in this scene, alongside many others throughout the film, including the infamous massacre of the titular couple at the end of the film. This graphic display of violence serves to ground the film in reality and forces the audience to confront Bonnie and Clyde’s heinous actions.

Unconventional Auteur: Bonnie & Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)

Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) could arguably be considered a film influenced by an array of creative auteurs and external inspirations, rather than a product created under the vision of a singular auteur. Including the prolific young directors of the French New Wave movement, the director of the film Arthur Penn, editor Dede Allen, and producer/star Warren Beatty, the final state Bonnie and Clyde exists as such due to the collaborative influence of these distant yet imperatively necessary auteurs.

Although the film was produced by Hollywood studio Warner Brothers, Bonnie and Clyde took a great deal of influence from the French New Wave. This movement is characterised by its particular focus on young, eccentric characters living in a poverty-stricken corner of society. Directors of the French New Wave often used handheld cameras to film in an improvisational and fluid style, in tandem with jump cuts to create a naturalistic and authentic atmosphere within their films.

The film’s director, Arthur Penn was highly influenced by this style of filmmaking, imbuing Bonnie and Clyde with many of these techniques. A clear example of this can be seen in the opening scene of the film, which displays Bonnie getting ready in her room, during which a handheld camera follows her movements spontaneously and fluidly. Bonnie’s entrapped state of mind is aptly conveyed when she is claustrophobically framed within her bed-frame. Penn also chose to shoot the vast majority of the film on location with natural lighting, only contributing to the film’s purported authenticity.

*Bonnie’s entrapped state of mind is illustrate through being claustrophobically fram*ed *through the bed-frame*

Dede Allen, a celebrated ‘auteur editor’ within Hollywood, also had a significant impact upon the film’s production. During her career, she pioneered the use of audio overlaps and jump cuts to create a sense of driving energy, and this can be clearly observed throughout Bonnie and Clyde. Allen also incorporated the technique of temporally disruptive editing throughout the film. In the opening sequence for example, Allen subtly conveys the passage of time through jump cuts whilst maintaining a fluid movement, only adding to the naturalistic tone of the film.

Bonnie and Clyde was produced by Warren Beatty, who also stars as Clyde in the film. Beatty was responsible for assembling most of the cast, alongside selecting Arthur Penn to direct the film, with Beatty choosing to give Penn 10% of the film’s profits. Beatty was arguably the driving force behind the film, overseeing each element of production. Beatty also spearheaded the film’s gritty and realistic portrayal of Bonnie and Clyde’s escapades – he insisted that the film would not shy away from portraying the duo as flawed and multi-faceted individuals. Beatty also decided to create an air of ambiguity concerning Clyde’s sexuality. All of this served to reject the traditional conventions of the Classical Hollywood Style, marking its place in film history as the trailblazing film of the New Hollywood era.

New Hollywood: Bonnie And Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)

Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) is widely considered to be a landmark film in shaping what would later be known as the New Hollywood era of filmmaking that lasted throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s. There are several important contexts to consider when evaluating what factors influenced the film’s production.

*Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty in costume as Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow*

One of the most significant factors to consider is the cultural context within America throughout this period. During the late 1960s, a series of significant cultural events emanated throughout America during this period, including both the Civil rights movement as well as the Vietnam War – two majors sources of conflict and tension that manifested films including both Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979) and The Deer Hunter (Michael Cimino, 1978). Bonnie and Clyde arguably spearheaded this new era of filmmaking during this time, often considered to be a reflection of the rebellious spirit of America at the time, coming off the back of the dissolution of the studio system that gradually occurred after the Paramount Case in 1948. It is for the reason why Bonnie and Clyde is often cited as the first film of the New Hollywood era.

Another important context to consider is the historical context of the 1930s – the time period in which the film is set. The real life Bonnie and Clyde carried out their criminal activities during a time in which the lasting effects of the Great Depression were observable all across America, particularly the rural southern states in which the couple’s escapades occurred. The film aptly illustrates this time period, displaying barren streets that are plastered with posters advertising the FDR presidential campaign. As a result, audiences who had lived through this time period themselves were more likely to empathise with Bonnie and Clyde’s struggles within this time of poverty and bleakness.

Institutional and political contexts also played a key role in influencing the production of Bonnie and Clyde. The film was produced by Warner Brothers – one of the ‘Big Five’ Hollywood studios. Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, the studio garnered a reputation for making traditional and conservative films, keeping to a ‘house style’ that conformed to the regulations of the Hays Code. Bonnie and Clyde could be considered a drastic departure from this Classical Hollywood style – foregrounding both graphic violence and underlying sexual themes. This was initially viewed as controversial, facing particular opposition from Jack L. Warner who despite his fervent attempts, ultimately failed to block the production of the film. Despite this drastic shift in tone, the film was become a critical and commercial success, in large part due to the support of influential figures within the studio, namely the man responsible for spearheading the film’s release – producer and star, Warren Beatty.

The social context of the 1960s also had an impact on Bonnie and Clyde’s release. The film was released at a time when there was a great deal of interest in the lives of ordinary people and their struggles, which was largely popularised in America through this notion being commonly depicted within French New Wave cinema. Audiences were now exposed to film movements outside of Hollywood after the collapse of the studio system, and as a result, techniques and themes of other movements, including the French New Wave, were gradually imbued into the films of New Hollywood. Bonnie and Clyde took a great deal of influence from this film movement, with the its portrayal of the couple’s relationship and their struggles against the forces of authority resonating with many viewers, aiding the film to inevitably become a cultural touchstone.

Cutting-edge technology of the 1960s also played a role in the production of Bonnie and Clyde. The use of handheld cameras and long lenses served to create a more naturalistic atmosphere throughout the film, with this technology being used in a similar way during the French New Wave to achieve this effect. It was also one of the first films to utilise ‘squibs’ extensively. These were small explosive charges filled with stage blood that would detonate inside an actor’s clothes to purport violence in a more dynamic and authentic manner.

Bonnie & Clyde Close-Up (“Ballet Of Death” Sequence)

Overview

The ending sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) displays the tragic demise of the titular couple. After sharing one final innocent moment of happiness together, C.W.’s father fools the couple into stepping outside their car, after agreeing to turn in the couple to the police in exchange for C.W.’s freedom. The couple are brutally gunned down by lawmen, led by Frank Hamer – the man that the gang taunted with earlier in the film. This abrupt final scene is both powerful and poignant – serving as a fittingly inevitable end to the couple’s tumultuous journey portrayed over the course of the film.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The sequence opens with a wide shot of Bonnie and Clyde framed centrally as they walk out of a shop, donning cream-coloured clothing that serves to emphasise their purity. The couple act playfully, exuding a sense of child-like innocence as Clyde puts on a pair of broken glasses. This final moment of playful happiness is captured through the use of a crane shot, a more traditional filmmaking technique that is closely associated with the Classical Hollywood style.

As the couple enter the car, unbeknownst to the fact that it will be their final journey, no Bluegrass score accompanies this action, creating a much more sombre mood than what is usually associated with the gang’s car journeys. This contrast between the couple’s playful behaviour and the lack of non-diegetic sound creates a foreboding sense of unease. Clyde’s clumsiness and child-like behaviour also serve to juxtapose the couple’s heinous actions throughout the film.

During the journey, the camera work employed is of particular interest. It departs from the utilisation of long lenses throughout the film, a technique associated with the French New Wave that allowed for ease of filming. Instead, the cameras are placed in close proximity to Bonnie and Clyde, bringing the viewer closer to their final intimate moments together. This is particularly evident in a tight two-shot of the couple in the car, which only becomes tighter as the sequence progresses. Bonnie and Clyde also share a pear during the car journey, perhaps serving as a symbol of comfort and familiarity for the couple. We then cut to a sequence edited in parallel between shots filmed from the perspective of the car’s windscreen and shots of Malcolm not-so-subtly beckoning the couple to pull over on the side of rural road he is blocking, encouraging them to check on an apparently flat tyre. This action is displayed through the implementation of a Dutch angle shot, serving to create an off-kilter atmosphere.

We then cut to a rapid frenzy of editing that alternates between reactionary closeups of Bonnie and Clyde. This indicates that the couple just begin to realise what is happening to them in their last living moments, a second before it is too late. The final moment shared between the couple is showcased through an eye-line match, creating one final moment of romance. As the lawmen open fire, deafening gunshots explode into the sound mix which immediately alerts the viewer and heightens the dramatic value of the scene. The excessive display of graphic violence that ensues defies the prior conventions of Classical Hollywood.

Slow motion is also employed within this scene for the first time in the film, serving to emphasise the brutality of the scene. Through this, the shot of Clyde’s corpse rolling to the side is prolonged, inciting empathy towards the character within the viewer. Notably, neither Bonnie nor Clyde are shot in the face – preserving their purity and glamour. The final shot of the massacre is a wide shot that lingers on the two lifeless corpses, leaving the viewer to ponder the journey undertaken by Bonnie and Clyde over the course of the film.

*The final wide shot displaying the corpses of Bonnie and Clyde*

During the brief aftermath of the shooting, the camera glides behind the shattered car window. A bullet hole is displayed out of focus, subtly reinforcing the events of the shooting. Instead, Penn chooses to frame the lawmen in behind the car in focus, distancing the camera from their stoic demeanours. The ringleader, Frank Hamer, is dressed in all black, portraying him as particularly villainous. The abruptness of this ending is perhaps reminiscent of the French New Wave, a movement that strove to present an authentic depiction of reality. There is no superfluous ‘epilogue’ sequence, the film merely ends with this inspection of the couple’s lifeless corpses.

Bonnie & Clyde Close-Up (“Meeting Family” Sequence)

Overview

The “meeting family” sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) begins after Bonnie runs away from the gang into a field, after which Clyde desperately attempts to locate her as he repeatedly calls her name. After he finds Bonnie, she informs Clyde that she wishes to see her mother again. We then cut to a barren wheat field in which the members of the gang, now made up of: Bonnie, Clyde, Buck, Blanche, and C.W. convene with Bonnie’s family, in order to partake in a family gathering. This desolate location is highly symbolic, perhaps foreshadowing Bonnie and Clyde’s inevitable demise. To accentuate this, this sequence is filmed in a manner reminiscent of a dream sequence – providing the setting with an otherworldly quality. The sequence ends with Clyde’s boyish charm failing to convince Bonnie’s mother that everything is okay, as she tells him that “you best keep running, Clyde Barrow”.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The opening scene in which the gang attempt to locate Bonnie is a prime exemplar of the how the film takes dual influence from the familiar Classical Hollywood style alongside newer, more experimental influences such as the French New Wave. As for the Classical Hollywood style, the camera is placed on a rig to seamlessly track the car’s movements as the camera moves backwards. The use of a rig creates a highly controlled environment, typical of films such as Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942). The use of a crane shot is also employed to display Clyde chasing Bonnie through the field, a technique also frequently implemented throughout the films of the Golden Age. Techniques that are inspired by the French New Wave includes the use of long lenses to film. This, alongside improvised handheld camera movements and blocking when Clyde chases Bonnie through the wheat field, creates a naturalistic atmosphere. The scene is also shot on location, meaning that the visuals are not particularly clear. However, this only serves to add an extra layer of realism to the scene.

The weather also appears to break continuity during certain shots – the wheat field appears to be in shadow until it cuts to a closer angle, displaying a much sunnier scene. A piece of wheat also flaps in front of the camera, demonstrating the uncontrollable nature of filming on location. The fact that the couple lie in a dead wheat field is perhaps an example of metaphorical foreshadowing – Bonnie and Clyde’s demise is inevitable.

After Clyde agrees to the family gathering, we then cross-dissolve to a new location, the abandoned industrial wasteland. The sequence opens on a wide shot of this wasteland, displaying the moribund state it exists after the Great Depression. During the scenes that take place in this setting, a grainy filter is applied to the camera that was achieved by filming through a car windscreen. This creates a distant, otherworldly atmosphere to the scene, implying that these brief moments of happiness only prolong the couple’s inexorable downfall. The colouring also appears to be extremely washed out, further emphasising the barren atmosphere that the family are forced to seclude themselves within.

The closeup of Bonnie’s mother is also shot on a long lens, creating an entirely shallow depth of field behind her. This serves to separate her face from the background, drawing the viewer’s attention towards her withered appearance. Each character is also dressed in solemn, formal clothing – reminiscent of funeral attire, contributing the overall ‘death metaphor’ present throughout the sequence. The sound throughout the sequence also appears to be much more distant than normal, merely consisting of muffled diegetic ambience and dialogue. The use of frame rate drops are also employed, jarring the viewer and creating a disjointed atmosphere.

As Bonnie and Clyde innocently play with Bonnie’s nephew in the pit, Buck and Blanche awkwardly stand to the side in a subdued manner. From this, the viewer is able to surmise that Buck and Blanche have realised the inevitably of Bonnie and Clyde’s demise and are empathising with the couple’s blissful naïveté. Clyde’s charismatic charm doesn’t appear to convince Bonnie’s mother of his suitability as a partner for her daughter. During this, Bonnie is portrayed in a much less playful and flirtatious light – she takes on a solemn demeanour, displaying concern for her future with Clyde. As Bonnie’s mother delivers her truthful opinion of Clyde to his face, she is once again isolated in a closeup – emphasising that no one possesses any hope for their future.

As the characters slowly begin to leave the frame, the final conversations revert back to utilising a typical shot/reverse shot sequence. This reinforces the idea that the jovial family gathering has now concluded, and the gritty reality of the poverty-struck South has once again become apparent. The sequence ends with a wide shot of the abandoned wasteland, leaving the Barrow Gang isolated in the frame – informing us that the family does not intend to aid their efforts, and the gang is truly alone.

Bonnie & Clyde Close-Up (“Botched Heist” Sequence)

Overview

The “botched heist” sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) proves that not everything the gang attempts will go to plan, serving to highlight the gritty realism presented over the course of the film. The scene displays the titular couple attempting to rob a town bank, which seems to be going to plan until their attempted escape. The gang’s newly appointed getaway driver, C.W. Moss, inadvertently hinders the heist by parking the car away from the bank. Moss then struggles to pull away, accidentally hitting two cars. As the gang finally manages to drive away, a man jumps onto the car – prompting Clyde to shoot him in the face.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The sequence opens with an extreme long shot taken from under the awning of an establishment, serving to immerse the viewer in the evocative rural Southern town. This shot is deliberately framed as to draw the viewer’s attention towards the crossroads at the centre of the town, naturally guiding our focus towards the bank. The bank itself is highly decrepit and derelict, perhaps being indicative of the negative effects suffered by these small establishments after the Great Depression. Each extra that appears in the scene are real townsfolk, preserving to the authenticity of the scene.

As we cut to the bank itself, we are presented with an appropriately desolate setting – the use of a wooden brown further establishes the bank as part of the rural Southern community. Clyde wears a navy blue suit, juxtaposing Bonnie’s crème-coloured clothes – perhaps symbolising Clyde’s history with robbery and crime. Bonnie also interestingly dons a beret, an evocative piece of French fashion that subtly paying homage to the French New Wave, a movement that highly influenced the film’s production. The couple are also framed within a frame as they enter the bank, drawing further audience focus to them.

The dialogue and movements within the bank appear to be largely improvised, indicative of the film’s attempts to strive for reality. As Bonnie and Clyde holds up the bank, the soundscape is fully diegetic, which creates a naturalistic atmosphere. This scene is edited in parallel with C.W. Moss outside, attempting to park the car away from the bank. These shots are edited in a much more conventional sequence, being reminiscent of the Classical Hollywood style.

During the getaway itself, the diegetic sound of the alarm bell promptly enters the mix which immediately heightens the tension. The pace of editing also quickens, rapidly cutting between closeups of Clyde pointing his gun at the window with closeups of the man latched onto the car behind the window. As Clyde shoots the man in the mouth, we cut to a centrally-framed closeup in which a shockingly graphic amount of blood is displayed. This gratuitous display of violence breached the boundaries of what was allowed within cinema for the time, through which Bonnie and Clyde later garnered a notorious reputation for. After witnessing the couple’s distraught reactions, we cut to another closeup that showcases the man’s face sliding down the window. This repulsive display of violence instils a sense of uneasy discomfort within the viewer – the audience is forced to confront and later contemplate Clyde’s violent actions.

This sequence interestingly mirrors the earlier scene of Clyde robbing the grocery store in the opening sequence, yet the absence of a jaunty Bluegrass score strips the sequence of its prior light-hearted mood. The viewer is now fully confronted with the gritty reality of Bonnie and Clyde’s actions, enhancing the film’s endeavour to strive for naturalistic authenticity.

Bonnie & Clyde Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

The opening sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) promptly introduces us to the eponymous couple’s tumultuous relationship. They meet after Bonnie spots Clyde out of her window attempting to steal her mother’s car. The pair quickly hit it off, enjoying some Coca Cola before Clyde decides to hold up a grocery store. The sequence concludes with Bonnie and Clyde making a quick getaway in a stolen car. The opening sequence also serves to introduce us to the setting of 1930s Southern America, in which the effects of the Great Depression and the Prohibition Era subtly permeated throughout the country.

Key Elements, Context, and Representation

The sequence opens with the iconic Warner Brothers logo graded in a noticeably desaturated sepia tone. This alteration of the logo aptly fits the style of the film. The film itself begins with a sequence of still photographs that provide a split-second snapshot of life throughout the Southern states of America during the Great Depression. This style of reportage storytelling is converged purely though these black and white still images that purport a seemingly authentic image of poverty in America. This sequencing of images is accompanied by the sound of camera clicks, further contributing to the purported image of reality being presented.

The title cards displaying Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway’s names are both centralised and capitalised, before the title cards dissolve into red, perhaps being an early indication of the violent tone the film has. The lack of non diegetic sound throughout the opening titles serves to immerse the audience into the world of the film, which is attempting to purport a gritty, realistic documentary style. These pictures are intercut with the opening credits, which display the names of important key figures who collectively collaborated on the film. Firstly is the director of photography, Burnett Guffey, and editor Dede Allen – two key figures who were inspired by the French New Wave who contributed towards shaping the film into the way it is. The film also displays the names of the screenwriting duo – David Newman and Robert Benton. Bonnie and Clyde was the duo’s first effort, the film marking a period of collaboration between Newman and Benton between the late 1960s to the early 1980s. The film was arguably spearheaded by producer and star Warren Beatty, who was responsible for assembling the aforementioned screenwriters as well as the director, Arthur Penn. Beatty also decided to present Clyde as having an ambiguous sexuality throughout the film, which subverts the typical masculine qualities of the noble American hero.

The final pictures displayed are of Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty themselves in costume as Bonnie and Clyde, presented alongside some essential contextual info. This acts to link the superficial world of the film with the authentic reality of the real Bonnie and Clyde. Releasing in 1967, the film takes place in 1931 – a mere two years after the Wall Street Crash of 1929, inciting a period of mass poverty throughout America, a time in which people migrated across the country in order to eat and work.

The diegetic sound of Bonnie’s record player immediately provides a strong evocation of the 1930s, being a contemporary piece of the time. The sound gradually rises in the mix before we cross-fade into an extreme closeup of Bonnie’s lips. This first shot is extremely striking, contrasting Casablanca’s formal style of shot sequencing that involves a mid-shot followed by a closeup. Penn instead throws us straight into the action, immediately sexualising Bonnie through this extreme closeup. Her red lips are associated with morally dubious women and are symbolic of sex. The use of a handheld camera, cutting edge technology embraced by the French New Wave, allows for a quick pan to reveal Bonnie in the mirror. This movement feels highly spontaneous and not choreographed, unlike the camera movement present throughout Casablanca.

*The introductory shot of Bonnie, an extreme closeup of her lips*

Bonnie being naked in her room was particularly risqué for the time – her proactive state represents her as wild and free-spirited. Throughout this first scene, the camera remains tightly focused in on Bonnie, allowing the viewer to form an immediate connection to her. She is positioned behind the bars of her bed, suggesting that she currently feels imprisoned by her life. The camera then rises up into an extreme closeup of her eyes. During this, the camera does not focus immediately and has to pull back. The use of a handheld camera allows for this fluid and spontaneous movement reminiscent of the French New Wave. Bonnie’s beauty is presented in a more authentic and naturalistic manner, which contrasts Ilsa who is presented in soft focus with meticulous use of lighting to purport her beauty artificially. This opening sequence of Bonnie in her room pushes the regulations of the Hays code to the limit, serving as a precedent for what is to come.

The first shot of Clyde is filmed through the mosquito net, creating an authentic atmosphere that feels more tangible than Casablanca’s constructed reality. The film was shot entirely on location in the Southern states of America, displaying the poverty that these streets endured throughout the 1930s. This depiction of poverty is also akin to the French New Wave. Natural lighting is also used, further adding to the naturalistic setting. When Bonnie talks, she does not speak with a Mid-Atlantic accent like Ilsa, but instead conveys a much more realistic depiction of a regional Southern accent. During her first line of dialogue, the low-angle shot of Bonnie in the window is filmed with a zoom lens from a distance. This convenient style of filmmaking allows for each shot to be filmed in one position, this being representative of New Hollywood’s influences. The dialogue exchanged between the couple is recorded on location and, because of this, appears to be buried in the mix which creates a more naturalistic feel.

In films like Casablanca, women such as Ilsa portrayed in a much more elegant and graceful manner. In Bonnie and Clyde however, Bonnie’s flirtatious behaviour towards Clyde marks a particularly edgy portrayal of a female character for the 1960s. The film presents Bonnie as a bored and uneducated waitress, and Clyde as a convict. Being characteristic of the French New Wave, the film is presents a ground story about real lives – encouraging the viewer to empathise with the couple more. As the couple walk the streets, the poverty-stricken nature of the town becomes apparent, reflecting the effects of the Great Depression.

The couple then decide to drink some Coca Cola, during which the bottles connote provocatively phallic imagery. This sexually suggestive imagery pushes the boundaries of what was acceptable in Hollywood during the 1960s. This scene is also introduced through a closeup of Clyde drinking from the bottle, with no contextual establishing shots used. The fact that Bonnie and Clyde choose to drink Coca Cola is also perhaps representative of the Prohibition Era that was still in effect during 1931. Clyde’s pistol also provides more sexually suggestive imagery when Bonnie touches it. The mise-en-scène present throughout the scene is also highly realistic, with Franklin D. Roosevelt campaign posters being plastered on the walls, serving to immerse the audience in the 1930s time period. The fact that the majority of the sequence is made up of diegetic sound, most of which was recorded on set, helps to create authentic verisimilitude throughout the scene.

*Clyde drinking the Coke bottle is both a phallic symbol and represents the Prohibition Era*

Clyde is portrayed as physically debilitated as he limps over the course of the entire film, aligning with his prison backstory that he informs Bonnie of earlier in the scene. His physical disability further emasculates Clyde, providing more nuance and depth to his character. As he enters the grocery store, we do not actually see the robbery. The film is attempting to direct its focus towards the couple’s relationship, rather than the illegal acts that they involve themselves in, the audience is thus denied the pleasure of seeing a thrilling robbery set-piece.

As the couple make their escape, a upbeat non-diegetic promptly enters the mix. This Bluegrass score is notably banjo-oriented, creating a playful and light-hearted mood as Bonnie and Clyde steal the car and make their escape. Back projection is also implemented to create the illusion of Clyde driving the car, with a similar technique being employed during the Paris flashback sequence in Casablanca.

Arthur Penn: Copycat Auteur

The lasting influence of the French New Wave ultimately resulted in the films of the New Hollywood era taking on a particular style that greatly contrasted the Classical Hollywood style present throughout the Golden Age. Instead of a studio institution collaborating as a collective auteur, this new era of filmmaking was instead characterised by a small group of young creative minds collaborating within the new landscape of Hollywood. It is important to observe each of the creative forces that contributed towards Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) to evaluate whom is responsible for how the final film looks and feels.

The two screenwriters that worked on Bonnie and Clyde were David Newman and Robert Benton. After meeting at Esquire magazine, this screenwriting duo often collaborated together from the late 1960s through to the early 1980s. Bonnie and Clyde was the duo’s first screenwriting effort, containing highly authentic and naturalistic dialogue – reminiscent of the French New Wave. This is representative of the young aspiring filmmakers, who were able to share their creative voices to the world within the landscape of New Hollywood.

The film’s director was Arthur Penn, known for directing critically acclaimed American films throughout the 1960s, such as The Chase (1966), Alice’s Restaurant (1969), and most notably – Bonnie and Clyde (1967). Collaborating alongside producer and actor Warren Beatty, Penn was strongly influenced by the French New Wave when creating Bonnie and Clyde, with the film itself only accentuating the creative influence that this new generation of filmmakers went on to be inspired by. Because of this, Arthur Penn cannot be considered an auteur, as he was not the sole creative mind behind the production of the film.

Bonnie and Clyde was edited by Dede Allen, a celebrated ‘auteur editor’ within Hollywood. She had an extended collaboration with Arthur Penn lasting nine years and during this time, she pioneered the use of auditory overlaps and emotional jump cuts. This stylistic manner of editing was heavily inspired by the French New Wave, meaning that Dede Allen played a crucial role in Bonnie and Clyde’s production.

Bonnie and Clyde was produced by Warren Beatty, who also stars as Clyde in the film. Beatty was responsible for assembling the aforementioned screenwriters – Benton and Newman – alongside most of the cast. Even Arthur Penn was specifically selected by Beatty to direct the film, with Beatty choosing to give Penn 10% of the film’s profits. Beatty was arguably the driving force behind the film, overseeing each element of production.

Escaping The Eight: The French New Wave

The French New Wave was a movement that emerged in the 1950s, gaining worldwide attention throughout the 1960s. It was characterised by a rejection of traditional cinematic techniques – embracing experimental methods of filmmaking viewed as a radical departure from the status quo of cinema. This movement’s cultural impact greatly influenced films of the New Hollywood era, inspiring young independent filmmakers to hone and display their artistic vision.

A key element of the French New Wave centred around creating a different world on screen. Pioneering filmmakers, such as Jean-Luc Godard, strove to illustrate an artistic visual language that was much more experimental and ‘looser’ than the Classical Hollywood style. The French New Wave implemented techniques such as non-linear narratives alongside unorthodox camera angles and editing techniques to create a wholly distinctive style of filmmaking.

*Anna Karina, a star of the French New Wave, being filmed by Jean-Luc Godard, a renowned filmmaker of the movement*

This wave of filmmaking also manifested new voices into the cinematic landscape. These up-and-coming filmmakers were often young and had grown up with cinema existing as a prominent art form their entire lives. These new voices brought a fresh perspective to the medium, challenging the pre-conceived notions of what cinema could and should be.

Films of the French New Wave were typically shown in smaller art house theatres, displayed to audiences who sought a departure from the homogenised mainstream cinema of the Hollywood Studio System. This only served to bolster the French New Wave’s notoriety in America, aiding its later influence towards Hollywood studio-produced films, such as Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967).

The French New Wave also brought about an array of unorthodox filmmaking techniques to the table. Within films such as Breathless (Jean-Luc Godard, 1960), the filmmakers of this wave of cinema employed specific techniques such as filming on location with a handheld camera, natural lighting, and jump cuts to create a more authentic and intimate feel. This, alongside actors often breaking the fourth wall by addressing the audience directly, created a sense of immediacy and spontaneity within the films of the French New Wave.

Waving Goodbye: New Hollywood (1961-1990)

The decline of the Hollywood studio system began in the late 1950s, after the Paramount Antitrust Case of 1948. This prohibited the studios from owning the cinemas in which their films were shown, and this greatly encouraged a rise in competition between the studios. This ultimately led to a much more diverse landscape of cinema in America, as each studio became influenced by the filmmaking techniques of other cultures, such as the French New Wave.

Alongside this, the rise of television of also contributed to the start of the New Hollywood era. During the 1950s, televisions became increasingly available due to their price steadily decreasing as the technology became cheaper to manufacture. As more households acquired a TV, the demand for television content increased and this led to an increase in the production of TV programmes. Television was a new and exciting form of entertainment, creating a new array of genres such as sitcoms and game shows. This ultimately resulted in a decline in popularity of cinemas as a form of entertainment, as families chose to watch films and TV from the comfort of their own home.

During the Golden Age of Hollywood, the studio system dominated the distribution of films that were shown in the cinema. Because of this, there was no opportunity for any independent films to be shown to American audiences. After the studios lost their power, independent filmmakers were now able to distribute their own films. This ultimately led to an emergence of new independent perspectives in the landscape of American cinema.

A significant development within the New Hollywood era was the rise of two systems working in parallel – independently produced films and studio produced films. Independent filmmakers, who had been exposed to films from around the world, often took advantage of cutting-edge technology such as 16mm film to produce their own low-budget productions that often experimented with the typical conventions of the prior American filmmaking landscape. These films usually had to be financed by relying on friends and colleagues of the filmmaker.

Simultaneously, the major film studios were producing more adventurous and nuanced films that challenged the status quo of the Classical Hollywood era. These films grew larger in both scale and budget, and were designed to appeal to a wide audience. This ultimately provided a dual filmmaking platform that broadened the cinematic diet of the American audience – viewers were able to simultaneously experience the unique and personal stories of the young independent filmmakers alongside experiencing the classic blockbuster entertainment that they had come to expect from Hollywood throughout the Golden Age.

Throughout this New Hollywood period, Arthur Penn was a prolific filmmaker who paved the way for the rise of independent cinema and the increasing influence of auteurs throughout the film industry. His film, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), was revolutionary in the way of challenging the conventions of the Hollywood studio system. Inspired by the French New Wave, Arthur Penn, alongside other visionary directors of this era, sought to create a film that did not shy away from a raw and violent portrayal of crime – a stark departure from the sanitised, formulaic style of storytelling that dominated the films of the Golden Age.

Bonnie And Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)

Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) is a biographical neo-noir crime drama that follows the capers of the infamous crime duo: Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway) and Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty). The film is arguably a landmark of the ‘New Hollywood’ era, epitomising the conventions offered by this new age after the decline of the studio system.

The titular couple meet after Clyde attempts to steal Bonnie’s mother’s car. The two quickly hit it off, and they soon become partners in crime – holding up banks for the thrill of it, despite their attempts being not particularly lucrative. The couple then recruit C.W. Moss, a petrol station attendant, as their getaway driver and later Clyde’s older brother Buck alongside his wife Blanche soon join the gang.

After a heist goes wrong, the gang flee to Missouri before they are located by the police. Two officers are killed in a shootout, and the gang also manages to take a police ranger, Frank Hamer, hostage whom the gang take photos with, before tying him to a boat and setting him free down the river.

A sudden raid catches the gang off guard, killing Buck and injuring Blanche’s eye – Bonnie, Clyde, and C.W. are barely able to escape themselves. The trio seek refuge at C.W.’s father’s house, who believe that the couple have corrupted his son after he sees a new tattoo on his chest that he decided to get after Bonnie’s suggestion. Seeing this, C.W.’s father strikes a deal with Hamer, allowing the police to trap Bonnie and Clyde in exchange for C.W.’s freedom. The film ends with the couple being mercilessly gunned down after being trapped by the police.

The film was directed by Arthur Penn, who set out to break the conventions of the Classical Hollywood style present throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood. Sex and graphic violence is openly depicted throughout the film, which is evident in Clyde’s ambiguous sexuality alongside the brutal violence portrayed in scenes such as the gang’s getaway and the brutal ending. The film was also influenced considerably by French New Wave cinema, which was typically characterised by rapid tonal shifts and experimental editing techniques.

Bonnie and Clyde’s narrative structure is linear, but utilises jarring time jumps to create a film with noticeably unorthodox pacing. I found this to be the main drawback of the film, as although the first third of the film is densely packed with lots of events edited in rapid succession, the film seems to ‘peter out’ afterwards with not much occurring until the very end of the film.

I did enjoy Bonnie and Clyde for the light-hearted crime it had to offer. The film’s implementation of unorthodox filmmaking techniques also kept me intrigued throughout. However, I didn’t feel much emotional attachment towards any of the characters, and the film’s peculiar pacing ultimately resulted in a disjointed narrative experience.

Overall, I would rate Bonnie and Clyde ★★★½.

Unconventional Auteur: Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) is a prime exemplar of the Warner Brothers ‘house style’ that the studio was famously regarded for. Involving the executives of the studio collaborating on each film together, this practice became known as a ‘studio auteur’ style of filmmaking, in which the creative output was a communal effort from the studio, rather than a single creative mind taking the reigns.

Although the director of Casablanca, Michael Curtiz cannot be considered as the sole creative mind behind the making of the film, his trailblazing directorial techniques must be made note of. Boasting a vast filmography of over 100 films, Curtiz honed his skills as a director particularly concerning the implementation of lighting to create a particular aesthetic. Curtiz expertly utilised main, back, and fill lighting to illuminate Ingrid Bergman in a highly flattering and glamorous manner. Ilsa dons a white costume, representative of her purity, and her eyes appear to glisten which serves to accentuate her beauty. Ingrid Bergman even requested to only be filmed from same angle, as she believed it showcased her best features. Conversely, Humphrey Bogart is predominantly shot in dimmer lighting which is emblematic of Rick’s ambiguous intentions. Lighting is used to draw attention to Bogart’s rugged and weathered face, starkly juxtaposing Ilsa’s radiant appearance and portraying him as the noble American protagonist.

A technique frequently employed by Curtiz throughout Casablanca involves pulling out the camera from a two-shot in order to reveal a third person in the frame. This is an example of efficient camerawork, in which the editing is able to naturally blend into the background, and the requirement for any potentially jarring cuts is alleviated. This aligns with the studio’s primary aim of foregrounding the narrative first and foremost. The camera movements throughout the film are also highly sophisticated and seamless. Within Rick’s café, the camera often appears to smoothly glide around the set in a manner reminiscent of a Steadicam, which wasn’t invented until 1974.

The dialogue throughout the film is fast paced, merely serving as exposition to drive the narrative forward. A clear example of this can be seen during the Paris flashback sequence, in which Rick and Ilsa’s dialogue succinctly and efficiently explains why the Nazis are invading France. The couple’s dialogue can also be considered highly melodramatic, which reflects the conventions of the romance genre that the film conforms to. The fast paced nature of the dialogue is perhaps best exemplified in the closing sequence of the film, in which a multiplicity of iconic lines, such as “we’ll always have Paris” are swiftly exchanged between Rick and Ilsa. During this, the couple are framed in a tight two-shot with a shallow depth of field, focusing the viewer’s attention exclusively towards the dialogue.

*A tight two-shot of Rick and Ilsa from the final scene of Casablanca*

Max Steiner, the film’s composer, also played a vital role within the ‘studio auteur’, serving to bolster the emotional weight of the narrative through the apt use of both diegetic and non-diegetic score. During the opening sequence, Steiner’s highly triumphant non-diegetic score enters the mix in a grandiose manner as the credits roll, which naturally segues into the French national anthem. This provides a twofold sense of international exoticism alongside patriotism. The film’s iconic theme – As Time Goes By – was also selected by Steiner to be played by Sam in Rick’s café, acting as a diegetic score. The particular 1931 jazz piece provides an appropriately sentimental and romantic evocation.

Executive producer Jack L. Warner’s name is the first to be credited in Casablanca, being indicative of his influence upon the production. Warner was an interventionist, and vehemently believed that America should join the war efforts in Europe. He is responsible for the war undertones that permeate throughout the entire film. Warner even rushed onstage at the 1943 Academy Awards to collect Casablanca Best Picture Oscar, to the dismay of producer Hal B. Wallis. This demonstrates the contention concerning the film’s true ownership, which was ambiguous due to the ‘studio auteur’ environment that the film was conceived under.

The Golden Age Of Hollywood: Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) is a film that arguably epitomises the landscape of filmmaking that existed in America throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood. It was produced under the context of the studio system, in which the Big Five and Little Three dominated the playing field of Hollywood, operating under a vertically integrated system.

In late 1941, Warner Bros. producer Hal B. Wallis became fascinated by an unproduced stage play called Everybody Comes to Rick’s. In late December of that same year, the studio bought the film rights for $20,000 and changed the title to Casablanca. The studio quickly began work on building bespoke sets for the film, creating the illusion of exoticism by foregrounding the lavish production values that the studio poured into the construction. Key set locations include the streets of Casablanca, the streets of Paris, and of course – Rick’s Café Americain, the primary location of the film. Each of these sets were populated with a multitude of extras in creating an artificial sense of hustle and bustle.

The film is both set and was filmed during the events of the Second World War. Because of this, executive producer Jack L. Warner pioneered the heavy wartime undertones featured throughout the film, as he vehemently believed that it would strongly encourage America to join the war effort. The final scene is particularly notable in this regard, as when Renault chooses to bin the Vichy-branded water bottle, it is symbolic of the studio’s views on fascism. Due to the ongoing war, the studio was not allowed to film at an airport after dark. Warner Bros. instead decided to film on a sound stage using a cardboard cutout of a plane – playing with perspective to create the illusion of a full-sized aeroplane.

*The Vichy water bottle is disposed of by Renault, being indicative of Warner Bros.’ views on fascism*

Casablanca was shot entirely in black and white, which was highly characteristic of Warner Bros. at the time. By 1942, colour had been implemented into a number films for around a decade, with studios such as MGM immediately choosing to embrace colour. MGM would go on to produce The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) a landmark of the cutting-edge Technicolor technology, but the technology was considered by many other studios to be a ‘gimmick’. During the time of Casablanca’s release, black and white was arguably at its peak, and Warner Bros. believed that choosing to film in black and white – despite the introduction of colour technology – demonstrated artistic nuance, as the iconic ‘noir aesthetic’ had now been refined for over 50 years. Colour was not as ‘sterile’ as black and white was during this time, only being able to display highly saturated colours.

Despite the fact that Casablanca is now a landmark of American cinema, only three actors who received screen credit were born in the United States: Humphrey Bogart (Rick), Dooley Wilson (Sam), and Joy Page (Annina Brandel). All of the other actors were European exiles who had fled the war, landing themselves in Hollywood. Many of the actors who appear as Nazis in the film were in fact German Jews who had escaped from Nazi Germany, with Conrad Veidt, Major Strasser’s actor, being forced to flee Germany after the SS learned of his friendship with the Jewish community. Veidt was convinced that he was aiding the war effort by playing a Nazi villain.

Casablanca is also a product of the Golden Age of Hollywood that exemplifies the ‘stables’ of film stars owned by the studios. Due to ‘unbreakable contracts’ that exclusively contracted actors to specific studios, Warner Bros. endeavoured to make apt use of their stars, The studio chose to cast Humphrey Bogart as Rick. Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, Bogart was often typecast as the ‘rugged individual’ archetype in films such as The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941) and Rick’s character was customised to suit Bogart’s acting capabilities.

Ilsa’s actress, Ingrid Bergman, was an internationally renowned Swedish actress known for her radiant beauty. Warner Bros. capitalised upon this by casting Bergman as Ilsa, accentuating her glamour by utilising lighting and costume design to portray Ilsa in a glamorous manner. The fact that Bergman measured two inches taller than Bogart did not align with the gender stereotypes at the time of release. Because of this, Bogart was actually made to stand on boxes during specific shots of the film to make him appear taller than Bergman.

Casablanca Close-Up (Closing Sequence)

Overview

The final sequence of Casablanca is widely regarded as one of the most poignant scenes across cinema. We are displayed a heartfelt final goodbye between Rick and Ilsa, before Rick shoots Major Strasser – symbolising good triumphing over evil. The sequence ends with Rick and Renault walking off into the mist, before Rick speaks the iconic final line of the film: “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”.

Cinematography

The sequence opens on a mid-tracking shot of an airport attendee, before coming to rest on the moving car. The camera then tracks the movements of the passengers leaving the car, before pulling out further into a five-shot that displays who Captain Renault is speaking to. This is a clear example of the Classical Hollywood style of camera technique, and blocking which prevents the requirement for any jarring cuts that would shatter the immersion for the viewer.

Rick and Ilsa’s final exchange is filmed with a tight two-shot, framing them in a romantic manner. This also alleviates the requirement to film a shot/reverse shot sequence, which would be less immersive. Both characters are filmed in a shallow depth of focus, directing the viewer’s attention towards Rick and Ilsa.

Sound

A number of reoccurring leitmotifs can be heard in Steiner’s non-diegetic score during this sequence, including As Time Goes By. This encourages the viewer to reminisce on Rick and Ilsa’s relationship, and how it has evolved over the course of the film.

Mise-en-scène

Lighting is utilised to make Rick’s eyes glisten alongside Ilsa’s for the the first time, emphasising the heartfelt nature of their final conversation. He has finally come to terms with his relationship with Ilsa.

Editing

A rapid shot/reverse shot sequence is employed between Rick and Major Strasser heightens the tension of the scene, before cutting to an over-the-shoulder shot that displays Rick’s quickdraw victory.

Performance

Renault’s line “round up the usual suspects” harkens back to his earlier line heard in the opening sequence. It informs us that he is not going to incriminate Rick, reinforcing his sleazy demeanour.

Context and Representation

Instead of immediately shooting Strasser, Rick gives him three chances before finally shooting him in a non-fatal way. This represents Rick as the noble rugged individual American protagonist archetype.

When Strasser is shot, no blood is displayed due to the restrictions of the Hays Code. This emphasises the content restrictions that Casablanca had to abide by.

Renault actively chooses to throw the Vichy-labelled water into the bin, proceeding to then kick it. This symbolically reflects Jack L. Warner’s views on the abolition of fascism – it is his way of encouraging America to join the war.

Casablanca Close-Up (“Play It, Sam” Sequence)

Overview

This sequence begins with Rick glumly drinking in his café alone, after coincidentally reuniting with Ilsa after she happens to walk into his abode, stating the famous line: “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine”. After Sam walks in, he requests for him to play As Time Goes By, reminding himself of his time with Ilsa in Paris. We then transition into a flashback sequence. This example of analepsis serves to contextualise Rick and Ilsa’s relationship in Paris, also informing us that Ilsa ran away without telling Rick in order to save her husband – Laszlo – whom she’d presumed to be dead in a concentration camp.

Cinematography

The scene where Rick sits in the bar is shot with dim lighting, shrouding Rick within a thick shadow. This aptly reflects his distraught state of mind.

The closeup of Ilsa’s final note to Rick is left on the screen for an appropriate amount of time as to provide the viewer with enough time to read it. The fact that the ink is melting on the page is perhaps also symbolic of the two lovers’ relationship melting away.

As Ilsa enters Rick’s café when we return to the present, over-exposure is implemented to portray Ilsa as a beacon of light. This illustrates her as an angelic deity, entering Rick’s dark inner sanctum.

Sound

As we transition into the analeptic flashback sequence, Steiner’s non-diegetic soars to a crescendo in the mix.

During the café sequence, Sam can be seen playing As Time Goes By, which recontextualises the previous interaction between Sam and Ilsa.

Mise-en-scène

The shot of Rick and Ilsa driving is shot with the use of back projection, creating the illusion of a Parisian vista being behind the couple.

Makeup has been applied to Rick and Ilsa to make them appear younger during the flashback sequence. Rick’s face appears to be much less wrinkly and rugged due to the fact that he is wearing concealer.

The Eiffel Tower can be seen in the background of the set, informing the audience that we are in Paris. A number of props can also be seen throughout this sequence, such as Ilsa’s beret and a model of the Eiffel Tower in the café. These silently remind the viewer of the location that this flashback is taking place in – Paris.

The heavy rain at the train station as Rick hopelessly waits for Ilsa to arrive is an example of pathetic fallacy, reflecting Rick’s distressed inner turmoil.

Editing

Despite the fact that Sam is playing piano, the camera remains on a closeup of Rick, highlighting his importance as the protagonist.

To initiate the flashback sequence, the camera pushes into a tight closeup of Rick, before fading to white. We then cross-fade between an array of positive memories of Rick and Ilsa in Paris, characterising their relationship.

Performance

Rick utters his famous line: “Here’s looking at you, kid” during the flashback, foreshadowing Rick and Ilsa’s final goodbye at the end of the film.

Context and Representation

The use of analepsis in the film is a notable deviation from the Classical Hollywood style. The vast majority of films released throughout this period were told in a predominantly linear fashion, as to tell a simple narrative in a clear and easily digestible fashion. Despite this, the extended flashback sequence is told through normal continuity as to not confuse the viewer.

The striking implementation of real wartime newsreel footage ground this sequence in reality, reinforcing the war setting that the film was both set and filmed during.

Rick dons a trench coat and hat during the train station scene, paying homage to Humphrey Bogart’s classic detective roles during the Film Noir scene. This is an example of Warner Bros. capitalising on the ‘stable’ of stars that they possessed, using them to their fullest capability.

Auteur

The dialogue during the flashback sequence is highly expositional, serving to clearly explaining the events of the Nazis invading France. The viewer now has a clear understanding of Rick and Ilsa’s relationship in Paris, and thus forms an emotional connection to them.

Casablanca Close-Up (“Leaving Rick’s” Sequence)

Overview

This sequence establishes the foundations of the history that Rick, Ilsa, and Sam share together during their time in Paris. At this point, the events of what actually happened are shrouded in mystery, and the viewer is left to ponder why the relationship between the characters is so tense. This sequence also introduces us to the main theme of the film – As Time Goes By – which is performed by Sam.

Cinematography

We spend the majority of the conversation between Sam and Ilsa looking at Ilsa, with the typical shot/reverse shot sparsely being used.

As Sam plays As Time Goes By we cut to an extended reactionary shot of Ilsa. From this, the viewer is able to infer that she has an emotional connection to the song.

As Rick enters the room, we cut to a low-angle shot that frames him centrally. This provides an appropriately dramatic entrance for the tense reunion between the past lovers.

Rick’s depth of field is much deeper than Ilsa’s subconsciously diverting the viewer’s attention towards Ilsa’s glamour. The closeup of Rick draws attention to his rugged, craggy appearance, whilst also being able to take in the surroundings of the café.

Sound

As Time Goes By is expertly implemented as an emotionally manipulative diegetic piece that provides an appropriate romantic evocation – it was specifically selected by Max Steiner himself.

As Rick and Ilsa see each other, Steiner’s emotional score promptly enters the mix, highlighting the tension between the couple.

Mise-en-scène

Rick’s café as a set is arguably the heart of the production, being meticulously designed and highly expensive. The location is inevitably displayed often, foregrounding the lavish production values.

Ilsa wears extravagant jewellery that glistens in the light, highlighting her beauty.

Careful blocking of the actors allows for everything of importance to be visible in the frame. For example, Laszlo moves out of the way when Renault calls a waiter to the table in order to display who he is talking to.

Editing

In typical Classical Hollywood fashion, Curtiz employs a shot/reverse shot sequence between Rick and Ilsa. However, the closeups of Ilsa are much more prolonged, highlighting her radiant appearance.

Reframing the composition of the shot provides a seamless transition from a four-shot to a three-shot, reducing the frequency of potentially jarring cuts.

Performance

At the end of the sequence, Rick silently conveys his emotions. His distraught facial expression emphasises his emotional inner turmoil as he turns to face the camera. Although he doesn’t look directly into the camera, this mid shot of Rick appropriately illustrates his wistful state of mind.

Context and Representation

The dialogue between Rick and Ilsa is highly melodramatic, reflecting the conventions of the romance genre that the film conforms to. The specific language used successfully manipulates the viewer to tug on their heartstrings and emotional resonate with the characters.

Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, Humphrey Bogart was a film star who was often typecast as the ‘rugged individual’ archetype. Studios capitalised upon the fact that audiences went to see films in order to see their favourite stars, and Rick’s character epitomises Bogart’s acting strengths.

Casablanca Close-Up (“Laszlo and Ilsa” Sequence)

Overview

This sequence serves to introduce us to two more important characters in the film – Victor Laszlo and Ilsa Lund. As they sit at a table in the café, we learn that Victor Laszlo is a fugitive Czech Resistance leader who narrowly escaped a concentration camp. Strasser confronts Laszlo in the café, and the two face off against each other in attempt to stand their ground. Under Major Strasser’s command, Captain Renault arranges a meeting with Laszlo for the next morning.

Cinematography

A tracking shot is used to follow the movements of the couple as they enter the cafe, diverting the viewer’s attention towards them.

During the dialogue sequence, the camera moves fluidly, panning up and down whilst maintaining a gliding motion. This allows the composition of the shot to easily be reframed without having a convoluted shot/reverse shot sequence.

Main, back, and fill lighting is used to light Ilsa in a highly flattering and glamours manner, as opposed to Renault who is lit more modestly, in order to appear more compassionate.

The closeups of Ilsa use a much shallower depth of field than the closeups of Lazslo, which fully draws the viewer’s attention towards her glamorous appearance.

Sound

When Laszlo and Ilsa approach Sam, the diegetic sound of his piano playing rises in the mix, immersing the viewer into their position. Conversely, the piano lowers in the mix during the dialogue scenes in order to efficiently convey exposition.

Mise-en-scène

In the last sequence, we were introduced to Rick wearing a white suit. As Lazslo and Ilsa enter the café, we can see that the couple are also both wearing white – with Ilsa’s costume being the whitest. This use of colour is representative of the characters’ purity and innocence, whilst also drawing the viewer’s eyes towards Ilsa’s radiant appearance.

Editing

When Laszlo speaks to the resistance member, Curtiz employs the use of a shot/reverse shot sequence to display who is talking at a specific moment.

Performance

Laszlo’s expression is stoic, emphasising his resilient nature after enduring the torturous concentration camp. Ilsa, on the other hand, appears to be nervous as she enters Rick’s abode, provoking questions in the viewer’s mind. We also see Sam’s reaction to the couple’s arrival – his face exudes a sense of apprehension when he sees Ilsa, which suggests that he knows her from the past.

Context and Representation

Ilsa (played by Ingrid Bergman) was an international film star and was thus dressed in a radiant manner, andlit in a highly flattering lighting in order to fully accentuate her feminine beauty. This can be seen through her meticulous neat hair and how her skin does not contain a single blemish. Bergman was predominantly filmed from her left side, so that the three-point lighting caught her eyes in a way that made them appear to shine.

Conversely, the male characters – such as Rick and Laszlo -are lit in are a more obscured lighting to emphasise their ruggedness. This is exemplary of Warner Bros. selling the ideal of glamour within their films, a notion that was highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style.

Ilsa speaks in a Mid-Atlantic accent – a superficial accent used frequently throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood. This accent blends the British and American accents in a way that appeals to both audiences and also conveys a sense of aristocracy and elegance.

Major Strasser is presented as a cold and ruthless force during his confrontation with Lazslo, standing over him to assert his dominance. Laszlo then stands up out of his chair to tower over him, shifting the power dynamic. This paints Laszlo as the ‘noble European’, standing up to the nefarious Nazi forces.

Casablanca Close-Up (“Rick’s Introductory” Sequence)

Overview

“Rick’s Introductory Sequence” serves to introduce us to the primary location of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) – Rick’s Café Américain. The entire café was a set built for the film, and this sequence serves to foreground the illicit dealings that occur within the establishment, alongside introducing us to the protagonist of the film after 10 minutes of build-up – Rick Blaine played by Humphrey Bogart.

Cinematography

The scene opens on a long shot of Rick’s café, which then cuts to a wide shot that clearly displays the sign for the viewer to see. This sequence of shots is typical of the Classical Hollywood style that Casablanca epitomises.

Curtiz employs a multitude of sophisticated filmmaking techniques in this sequence that are presented in a seamless manner. The camera movements are very smooth and appear to glide around the set, which was achieved by the bespoke set constructed purely for the film. This seamless camera movement is reminiscent of a Steadicam, which was not invented until 1974.

One character holds the door open for the camera, breaking the fourth wall. This is almost as if the camera is a customer entering Rick’s café which serves to provide a heightened sense of immersion. The shot then becomes a crab shot, displaying the set in all its splendour.

The camera tracks a waiter’s movements across the cafe, creating a flowing rhythm as we move to the new location which lies deeper within the cafe. This area exists within the inter area of the bar, perhaps representing a deeper core of Rick’s establishment.

As we eventually cut to the casino, we are first introduced to Rick through a closeup of a document that he is authorising. The fact that he uses his own name to represent his authority, merely writing OK RICK” establishes that he sits at the highest level of importance within the café. We then cut to a shot of Rick’s arm handing the document to another man, before the camera finally tilts up into a closeup of Rick himself.

Curtiz briefly pulls Rick out of focus in order to draw attention to his rugged and weary face, demonstrating that he is a weathered and experienced figure.

The sequence concludes with an over-the-shoulder shot of Rick observing his empire. Each person appears to be looking up at Rick, seeking his approval.

Sound

As the camera crabs and pushes in towards Sam, the diegetic sound of Sam’s singing rises in the mix. We are able to hear him more clearly the closer the camera gets, further immersing the viewer within the establishment.

Mise-en-scène

The actors are deliberately blocked out of the way of the camera, which allows for clean shots of the interior. This immerses the viewer within Rick’s world as we seamlessly glide into his inner sanctum.

The chessboard on Rick’s desk perhaps conveys symbolism. We can see that the black pieces are on Rick’s sides, emphasising his mysterious and powerful presence. Rick also smokes and drinks alcohol, which conveys his masculinity to the viewer. The camera finally tilts up to reveal that Rick is wearing a white tuxedo and a black bow tie, emphasising his elegance and sophistication.

Editing

After the closeup of Sam singing, we cut to a wide shot of a different angle of the café. Through the use of a sophisticated L-cut, we are still able to hear Sam singing. This subconsciously informs the viewer of the fact that we are still in Rick’s café, despite the cut to a different angle.

Performance

To inform us of the fact that the bar is a seedy location, the viewer is presented with some shady exchanges in which the actors speak in a hushed manner. For example, a man tells a man to remember to pay him in cash, which provokes the viewer to fill in the blanks. This reinforces the secretive and illicit nature of this dealings.

Context and Representation

Rick’s café is another expensive set that a large portion of the film takes place in. Because of this, the set is displayed frequently in order to foreground the lavish production values of the constructed reality that is the café.

Rick’s iconic white tuxedo with a black bow tie inspired the likes of later cinematic icons like James Bond.

The fact that Rick is displayed drinking and smoking only serves to paint him as a rugged, masculine individual. To contrast this, the women seen in the café are lit in a juxtaposing light, serving to accentuate their femininity.

Casablanca Close-Up (“Enemy Arriving” Sequence)

Overview

The “Enemy Arriving” sequence serves to introduce the audience to the main antagonistic force of Casablanca – the Nazis. The sequence also further establishes the shady occurrences within Casablanca, as well as the refugees’ desire to leave Casablanca to depart for America.

Cinematography

The aspect ratio of the film is 4:3, which was the standard practice at the time and was referred to as the ‘academy ratio’. Through the deliberate blocking of the waiter, who perfectly positions himself between the couple, this allows the three of them to be viewed in a single shot within the square frame. They are in prime position for the conversation to take place most effectively.

The wide shot of the couple sitting outside in the cafe is shot in deep focus. Through this, the viewer is able to view the French sigil in the background of the shot, which allows for efficient storytelling.

A wide shot displays the plane landing in the airport, after which we cut to a slightly closer shot with an identical composition, this being an example of subtle continuity editing. As the Nazis walk out from the plane, the camera pulls back to naturally transform the three-shot into a five-shot.

Sound

The diegetic sounds of the plane rise in the mix during the shots that display it landing, but lower when we cut to the citizens of Casablanca gazing at the plane. This allows for the audience to hear their dialogue, providing a more immersive experience.

Mise-en-scène

A model aeroplane is used to create the illusion of a real plane flying in the air. The plane also flies by Rick’s cafe, prominently displaying the sign to the viewer. This suggests it will be an important location. All of the actors are blocked in a way that frames the shot in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards the plane. The shape of the archway in the airport is also noticeably stylistic, reinforcing the exoticism of Casablanca.

Editing

The considerate use of blocking meant that the frequency of cuts was able to be reduced, thus making the editing seem invisible

The shot of the plane in the air cross-fades into a matte painting of the airport, providing a seamless transition.

Performance

The actors playing foreign refugees all perform in a stereotypical manner that immediately gives the viewer an idea as to where they are from.

Renault presents himself in an affable and happy-go-lucky manner, characterising himself as the sleazy police chief.

Context and Representation

Warner Bros. constructed an expensive set of Casablanca purely for the film, which is populated by a multiplicity of extras. This constructed reality serves to provide the highest sense of immersion for the viewer.

The sequence involving the pickpocket is representative of the shady atmosphere present throughout Casablanca.

The residents of Casablanca are wistfully transfixed onto the plane, informing the viewer that they are seeking an escape. A short dialogue exchange also confirms this.

The Nazis behave in a very formal and mechanical manner that is representative of how Jack L. Warner perceived them to be.

Auteur

A typical Michael Curtiz technique involved pulling out the camera from a two-shot in order to reveal a third person in the frame. This technique can be seen in this sequence, when the camera pulls out to reveal a third man talking to the couple who are sitting down. This is an example of efficient camerawork, in which the editing is able to naturally blend into the background.

Casablanca Close-Up (Opening Sequence)

Overview

The opening sequence of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) serves to aptly introduce the viewer to the film, establishing the setting, tone, and general premise. The sequence is highly expositional, utilising narration to explain the current war situation, as well as why refugees are fleeing to Casablanca. We also learn of the two German couriers suspected of possessing the important documents, and witness a murder occur in broad daylight. This all serves to present the Nazis as the domineering antagonistic force of the film.

Cinematography

The opening narration is accompanied by the animation of a dramatic spinning globe, after which the camera pushes into a visual representation of the journey.

The idyllic nature of the city begins to fade as the camera tilts down into the crowded streets. This reveals an expansive set populated by a mass of extras.

The man speaking into the telephone is centrally framed in full focus as he speaks into the telephone, fully diverting the viewer’s attention towards him and the expositional dialogue he recites. He proceeds to explain the case of the German couriers suspected of being in Casablanca possessing important documents.

Sound

The first notable aspect of Casablanca’s opening sequence is Max Steiner’s highly triumphant score that enters the mix in a grandiose manner as the credits roll, which naturally segues into the French national anthem. This provides a twofold sense of international exoticism alongside patriotism. After the opening credits sequence concludes, the score lowers in the mix and the non-diegetic narration rises in the mix.

The diegetic narration establishes the exposition for the film, explaining the path the refugees take in order to reach Casablanca.

Steiner’s non-diegetic score now lowers in the mix, foregrounding the diegetic busy ambience of the streets.

The French national anthem is played in a minor key after the murder, emphasising the political unrest that lies at the heart of Casablanca.

Mise-en-scène

Casablanca is portrayed as an idyllic destination through the use of narration, which is merely accentuated by a hand drawn matte painting of the city. This illustrates a vivid world of vitality, yet the clouds are dark – suggesting that a force of evil resides within the city.

As we cut back to the streets of the city, an erratic atmosphere is created. Each extra is blocked in a way that creates a sense of business, as the police car enters the scene.

Editing

We cross-fade between each country, after which the camera pulls out to display the scale. The map is superimposed onto live-action footage, providing a dual sense of enticing scale alongside realism. This ultimately provides a sense of heightened immersion for the viewer.

We then cross-fade into the office of a man receiving a telegram.

The pace of the editing begins to quicken, demonstrating the urgency of the situation. This sequence merely serves to assist the narrative, providing a sense of urgency that contextualises the persecution of the refugees in the city.

Performance

A sense of escalation is created through the narration as the man utters the line “wait… and wait”, suggesting that hopelessness is exuded throughout Casablanca.

Although most of these scenarios occur silently, we are presented one where the dialogue is able to be heard. This efficient method of storytelling is highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style prominent during the Golden Age of Hollywood.

The German soldiers speak in highly exaggerated accents, informing the audience that they are not filming locally in Morocco and instead employ American actors to put on an accent.

Context and Representation

The film opens with a large Warner Bros. logo, with Jack L. Warner’s name proudly displayed at the forefront, immediately informing the viewing that it is ‘his’ film. Despite his lack of personal involvement, Warner pioneered the film’s production and oversaw prolific elements of the pre-production stage. The stars, such as Humphrey Bogart and Paul Henreid are listed before the title of the film itself, demonstrating that the stars outweighed the film in terms of influence. It is also interesting to make note of the fact that Michael Curtiz’ name is the same size as the rest of the producers, suggesting a level of equal collaboration between them – reinforcing the idea of the studio auteur.

The film is shot in black and white, which was highly characteristic of Warner Bros. at the time. By 1942, colour had been implemented into a small number films for around a decade, such as The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939), but the technology was considered by many to be a ‘gimmick’. During the time of Casablanca’s release, black and white was arguably at its peak. Choosing to continue a film in black and white despite the invention of colour demonstrated artistic nuance, as the iconic ‘noir aesthetic’ had now been refined for over 50 years. Colour was not as ‘sterile’ as black and white was during this time, only being able to display highly saturated colours.

When the man possessing the out-of-date documents is shot by the Nazis, no blood is displayed at all – he merely falls over and the viewer must assume he is dead. This is indicative of the Hays code: the content regulations that each of the Hollywood studios had to conform to. The effects of violence were not allowed to be shown on screen, and even firing a gun at someone was pushing the limits of the regulations.

The leaflet embossed with the ‘Free France’ propaganda message is centrally framed, being symbolically ironic due to the man being shot under the French message that is promoting freedom. This demonstrates Jack L. Warner’s influence upon the film – he firmly believed that war should feature prominently throughout the film, and it is suspected that the film was his way of signalling America to join the war.

Institution As Auteur: Warner Brothers

A small circle of key individuals were heavily involved in the creative production process of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942). The idea of the executive producer, producer(s), and director having almost an equal amount of creative control was commonplace throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, and this became known as the ‘studio auteur’. Below is a list of these individuals, explaining the roles they played throughout the production process of Casablanca.

Executive Producer: Jack Warner

Jack Leonard Warner was a Canadian-American film executive, being the president and figurehead of the Warner Brothers’ Burbank Studio. With a career spanning forty five years, Warner became known for his incisive judgement and confidence, inciting a steep level of fear within many of his employees.

He both acquired Warner Brothers’ impressive ‘stable’ of film stars and also promoted the gritty social dramas that the studio was later characterised by. Warner’s primary duties involved overseeing the films produced by the studio, and making suggestions that he believed would enhance the film. His primary agenda involved accurate representations of cultural customs and atmospheres, and this can be vividly observed throughout Casablanca.

*Jack L. Warner pictured with Bette Davis (left) and Joan Crawford (right)*

Producer: Hal B. Wallis

Harold Brent Wallis was a Warner Bros. film producer, best known for producing Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood (Michael Curtiz, 1938), and True Grit (Henry Hathaway, 1969). Throughout his career as a producer, Wallis received 19 Best Picture nominations. After Warner Bros., Wallis was affiliated with Paramount Pictures during which he oversaw films starring Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and Elvis Presley.

In late 1941, Wallis became fascinated by an unproduced stage play called Everybody Comes to Rick’s. In late December of that same year he bought the film rights for $20,000 and changed the title to Casablanca. Wallis also wrote the famous final line of the film: “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

During the 1943 Academy Awards, Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1943) won the award for Best Picture. Upon being announced, Hal B. Wallis got up to accept the award, only to find that Jack Warner had rushed onstage “with a broad, flashing smile and a look of great self-satisfaction”. Wallis later recalled that “I couldn’t believe it was happening. Casablanca had been my creation; Jack had absolutely nothing to do with it. As the audience gasped, I tried to get out of the row of seats and into the aisle, but the entire Warner family sat blocking me. I had no alternative but to sit down again, humiliated and furious. … Almost forty years later, I still haven’t recovered from the shock.” This dispute demonstrates the contention of the true ownership of the film, as Jack Warner believed that he was in the right to claim all the glory, merely due to him being the figurehead of the studio.

Director: Michael Curtiz

Michael Curtiz was a Hungarian-American director who became the head of Warner Brothers’ Burbank studio. Curtiz’ filmography is vast, spanning over 100 films, the majority of which were released under Warner Brothers. Within Hollywood, Curtiz pioneered the utilisation of: lighting to create a particular aesthetic, fluid camera movements, high crane shots, alongside the use of unusual camera angles.

Curtiz is considered a highly versatile director, handling an eclectic range of genres throughout his time at Warner Bros, including the likes of: comedy, romance, film noir, musicals, Westerns, and horror. Curtiz believed that the “human and fundamental problems of real people” were integral to creating gripping drama, and often based his films on the foundation of this precept.

Curtiz’s vast body of work is greatly outshined by Casablanca, being a cornerstone of the entire Golden Age era. It is a key exemplar of the ‘studio auteur’ style of filmmaking that dominated the cinematic landscape of the Golden Age, epitomising all of the tropes that the Classic Hollywood style would later be known for.

*Michael Curtiz (director), Ingrid Bergman (actress), and Hal. B Wallis* *(producer) pictured together*

Cinematographer: Arthur Edeson

Arthur Edeson was a cinematographer whose career ran through both the Golden Age of Hollywood – including both the Silent and Sound Eras. He worked on many landmarks of the era, namely All Quiet on the Western Front (Lewis Milestone, 1930) and of course, Casablanca. Co-founding the American Society of Cinematographers, Edeson’s style was built on the influence of German Expressionism brought to America through German cinematographers during the 1920s, whilst also keeping to the style of gritty realism popular within the Hollywood studio system.

*Arthur Edeson on the set of Casablanca with Dooley Wilson (Sam) and Ingrid Bergman (Ilsa)*

Composer: Max Steiner

Maximilian Raoul Steiner was an Austrian composer and conductor who, after emigrating to America in 1914, became a renowned composer for Hollywood. He composed over 300 film scores with both RKO and Warner Bros., being nominated for 24 Academy Awards.

Steiner’s score is an integral component in Casablanca’s long-lasting legacy, providing a rich romantic evocation that serves to accentuate the relationship between Rick and Ilsa that lies at the heart of the film.

Classical Hollywood Style

Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, a distinctive style of filmmaking was birthed under the control of the studio system. Being produced between the 1930-1960s, the filmmakers aptly utilised each of the key elements of film form in order to augment the emotional weight of the narrative being told.

The films produced throughout this era often shared a handful of common narrative conventions. These included a psychologically defined individual who is caught in a struggle to solve a problem or achieve their goals. There is usually a conflict between this central protagonist and other external circumstances, before resulting in a clear-cut victory or defeat at the end of the film.

This narrative-driven and newly audiovisual style of filmmaking has been broken down into the key elements below, with a few specific examples from Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) being provided.

*Mind map that details the features of Classical Hollywood style*

Monopoly Oligopoly Panoply

The overwhelming prominence of the ‘Big Five’ studios monopolising the landscape of cinema ultimately led to the United States vs Paramount Pictures case of 1948, also referred to as the Hollywood Antitrust Case.

*The famous entrance to Paramount Studio*

Over the course of the 1930s, each of the ‘Big Five’ owned the cinemas in which their films were exclusively shown, either independently or as a partnership with another studio. This meant that only films produced by a specific studio were able to be shown in those cinemas. By 1945, the film studios owned an overall 17% of cinemas in America, accounting for 45% of the film-rental revenue. This meant that it was not financially viable to release a film independently, or show any film made outside of America in these cinemas. It was clear that the studios were dominating the film industry, establishing an illegal oligopoly.

This led to a group of filmmakers filing a formal complaint to the US Department of Justice, suggesting that the studios’ tactic of vertical integration was an illegal situation that violated antitrust law. In 1938, the studios were all sued by the justice department, with Paramount acting as the primary defendant due to its status as one of the biggest of the ‘Big Five. With the seven other studios – alongside a multitude of subsidiaries – being co-defendants of the case, each head of the studios were prosecuted and personally at risk of losing their livelihoods. The case was settled in 1940 with a consent decree, allowing the government to resume prosecution if the studios did not comply to four conditions by a reassessment that would take place in November 1943. These conditions included the following:

Each of the ‘Big Five’ studios could no longer block-book short films that would accompany the feature-length main film at the cinema
The studios could continue to block-book feature-length films, but the block size was now limited to five films
The practice of ‘blind buying’ was made illegal. This practice involved the studios selling their films to the cinemas without showing them beforehand
A voluntary industry-wide administration board would be created to ensure that these practices were adhered to

After reviewing the case in 1943, it became abundantly clear that the studios had not fully complied to the conditions of the decree. The studios went to trial once again in 1945, with the District Court ruling in favour of the studios, after which the government promptly appealed to the Supreme Court. After reaching the Supreme Court in 1948, they ruled that the studios did not fully comply with the consent decree, and declared that the studios were not allowed to own cinemas anymore, and must sell all of them.

This, coupled with the rising popularity of television in the 1950s, led to a steep decline in the revenue of the studios. Audiences could now watch films from the comfort of their own homes, and others did not have easy access to a cinema, meaning that television was the more convenient option. This ruling also broadened the range of films that American audiences had access to: smaller, independent films were now able to be shown in cinemas, due to cinemas now being able to freely show films from different studios. This ultimately decimated the fortune of the Hollywood studio system – the studios were forced to diversify their practices and the rise in competition skyrocketed.

The United States vs Paramount Pictures case of 1948 was a turning point for Hollywood. The ruling of the Supreme Court ultimately spelled the end of the Golden Age era and birthed the ‘New Hollywood’ era of filmmaking, in which directors began to claim much more creative control over the studios.

The Big Five And The Little Three: The Golden Age Of Hollywood (1930-1960)

Over the course of the Golden Age of Hollywood, American filmmaking ultimately coalesced around Hollywood – a suburb of Los Angeles. Filmmaking was considered both a huge commercial proposition and a business first and foremost, which led to the emergence of a small number of domineering film studios. These corporations fiercely competed against each other in order to produce grander and more impressive films.

The Studios

By the 1930s, eight American film studios had been established – all being conceived at similar times throughout the previous two decades. Colloquially known as the ‘Big Five’ and ‘Little Three’, each of these studios appeared to be very similar on the surface, however each studio possessed a multiplicity of business intricacies that separated them from one another. Each studio had its own unique selling point, attempting to offer something fresh to the table. The studios that made up the ‘Big Five’ included: Metro Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), Paramount, 20th Century Fox, Warner Brothers, and RKO. The ‘Little Three’ studios were United Artists, Universal Pictures, and Columbia Pictures – the latter two of which ironically possess a very prolific presence throughout the cinema of the modern day.

Most of the eight studios established themselves by originating from a small chain of cinemas which went on to merge with an array of production companies in Hollywood. These studios then dominated the filmmaking landscape over the late 1910s and 1920s, before The Great Depression of 1929. A few of the studios, such as MGM and Columbia, were able to weather the effects of The Great Depression, and continue strongly into the 1940s, whereas other studios such as 20th Century Fox and Universal were not as fortunate, and had to sell significant assets to survive.

Studios such as MGM offered films which provided glamour and spectacle, also embracing cutting-edge technology such as Technicolor. MGM produced films such as Gone With The Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939) and The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939). Other studios such as Paramount were known for producing light entertainment, such as comedy, whilst also dabbling in biblical epics, such as The Ten Commandments (Cecil B. DeMille, 1956). Both Paramount and Columbia embraced the invention of television in the 1950s and 60s, increasing the studios’ longevity. One of the ‘Little Three’ studios, Columbia, chose to produce B-movies to sell to the bigger studios. These were secondary films that acted as an accompaniment to the main event being shown at the cinema. Columbia managed to successfully survive the Great Depression with no repercussions, primarily due to the fact that they did not have a ‘stable’ of actors to hinder them.

The majority of the eight studios were frequently passed around by a handful of corporations throughout the 1980s and 90s and underwent a business model transformation, such as Universal who in the 1970s, began to focus primarily on releasing a handful of expensive blockbusters each year. These included the likes of Jaws (Steven Spielberg, 1975) and Jurassic Park (Steven Spielberg, 1993) In the case of RKO, the name of the studio died out completely and the company was merely absorbed into Paramount.

Vertical Integration and Unbreakable Contracts

The studios also implemented the business tactic of vertical integration, with each studio overseeing and taking ownership of all the means of production. Studios contracted screenwriters, editors, actors, directors, and even entire cinemas in an attempt to monopolise the film industry. From a business perspective, this meant that little to no money spilled out of the studio and each of the eight studios managed to fully maximise their profits, and dominate the market. Due to the studios owning all of the cinemas in United States, this meant there was no opportunity for American audiences to view films outside of the realm of the American studios and cinemas.

The actors were claimed by the studios through the use of ‘unbreakable’ exclusivity contracts that meant that the actor was required to star in a set block of films for that studio and were prevented from making films with any other studio. These actors were the ‘pull’ that drew audiences into cinemas and were thus a vital bargaining chip for the studios. Through this, each studio proudly possessed a ‘stable’ of stars, all of whom would frequently appear in each of the studios’ films that they would go on to produce.

Because of this, studios began to fear the prospect of losing a specific film star after they were approaching the final film on their contract. Many studios decided to ‘cheat the system’ and decided to simply not produce the final film in an actor’s given contract, rendering the contract ‘unbreakable’. From there, many actors were forced to make an impossible decision: either sign another contract with the same studio or never make another film.

As a result of this, four film stars in particular were extremely unhappy with the state of the studio system, claiming that the studios collected an disproportionate amount of money, and did not treat actors fairly. D.W. Griffith, Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks collectively founded United Artists – a company premised on allowing actors to control their own line of work, rather than being fully dependant upon the domineering film studios.

*The four film stars creating the United Artists studio*

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)

Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) is arguably the most prolific and well-acclaimed film released during the Golden Age era of Hollywood. It is an American romance/drama film starring Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid. Being a landmark of cinema, Casablanca’s characters, quotes, and evocative theme song have garnered an iconic status over the last 80 years.

Plot

The film was both shot and takes place during World War II, centering around the protagonist, Rick Blaine – a cynical owner of a gambling den in Casablanca, Morocco – a French colony. The club is a cultural hub of refugees attempting to acquire visas to depart for America, who remained neutral in the war at the time. Rick’s cafe also hosts a number of Vichy French and German officials who attempt to persecute these refugees. Rick himself claims to be neutral in all matters, but we soon learn that he was a gunrunner for Ethiopia during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War and also fought for the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, demonstrating to the viewer that he fights for justice.

A crook called Ugarte has obtained “letters of transit” by killing two German couriers. These letters allow the bearers to travel freely around German-occupied Europe. Being highly sought after among the refugees in Rick’s club, Ugarte plans to sell them and persuades Rick to hold the letters for him. Ugarte is instead arrested by Captain Louis Renault – the corrupt police prefect of Casablanca – and dies in custody, keeping the fact that Rick has the letters secret.

Afterwards, a woman called Ilsa Lund enters Rick’s cafe. After Ilsa asks the club’s pianist, Sam, to play “As Time Goes By”, Rick becomes initially furious at Sam for disobeying his order to never play that song again. However, as Rick spots Ilsa, he is astonished and his anger is relieved immediately. It becomes clear that the couple have a history. Ilsa is married to Victor Laszlo, a Czech Resistance leader who is a fugitive and the couple seek an escape to America. A Nazi leader, Major Heinrich Strasser, enters the club in an attempt to arrest Victor.

After finding out that Rick possesses the letters of transit, Victor attempts to buy the letters off him. Rick refuses his offer and informs him to ask his wife, Ilsa, the reason why. Ilsa then confronts Rick to inquire why he refused her husband the letters, threatening him with a gun. She soon professes that she still loves Rick and explains that she thought that Victor had been killed while trying to escape from a concentration camp. We cut to a flashback sequence, and receive a glimpse of Rick and Ilsa’s time in Paris together. As the couple are about to flee the city together, Ilsa mysteriously abandons Rick without explanation to see her husband, who we learn is in a physically distraught condition after escaping the camp.

After learning this, Rick agrees to help the couple, falsely informing Ilsa that he will stay with her when Victor leaves. Victor enters unexpectedly and learns of Rick’s feelings for Ilsa. After she leaves, Victor tries to persuade him to use the letters of transit to take her to safety. Victor is then arrested by the police, during which Rick convinces Renault to release him by promising to set him up for the crime of possessing the letters. Rick explains to Renault that he and Ilsa are soon departing for America. Renault declines and attempts to arrest Victor, before Rick threatens him with a gun.

Right as the plane to Lisbon is about to leave, Rick tells Ilsa to board the plane with Victor, informing her that she would regret going with him and that “we’ll always have Paris”. Major Strasser attempts to intervene and arrest Victor, before Rick promptly shoots him. After the police arrive, Renault orders them to “round up the usual suspects”, before suggesting to Rick that they join the Free French in Brazzaville. As Victor and Ilsa depart for Lisbon, Rick and Renault walk away into the mist. Rick says, “Louis, I think is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Context

The film was directed by Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian-American director who became the head of Warner Brothers’ Burbank studio. Curtiz’ filmography is vast, spanning over 100 films that were all released under Warner Brothers.

Released in 1942, Casablanca gained immediate critical success, winning three Oscars including Best Director – despite Warner Brothers’ apprehensiveness towards the film, fearing that it would flop. This was due to the fact that it was filmed over the course of three rushed months, with the actors and Curtiz not working well together on set. Casablanca was merely one of a multiplicity films released by Warner Brothers’ in 1942, and was neither the most expensive film nor the film the studio expected to take off.

Despite taking place in the exotic location of Casablanca in Morocco, the entire film was shot at Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, California – the only exception being the the opening sequence in which Strasser flies past a aeroplane hangar, filmed at Van Nuys Airport, Los Angeles.

As previously mentioned, the film was both shot and takes place during World War II. Interestingly, the film was shot a mere four months before the events of Pearl Harbour, which is why the United States remain a neutral territory in the film. It exists in a liminal period in which America was fully at war, but not yet fully immersed in a propagandistic war ideology.

*A shot from the opening sequence of Casablanca*

Techniques

The film’s narrative is predominantly linear, with Curtiz making use of one flashback sequence to illustrate Rick and Ilsa’s romantic affairs in Paris. Curtiz also employs lots of centrally-framed closeups of both Rick and Ilsa, with key lighting and fill lighting also being implemented. Through this, both harsh shadows and well-defined outlines of the characters are created. This, alongside the fact that the film is in black and white accentuates the wistful emotion and atmosphere of the film. Due to the lighting, Ilsa appears to be emanating a sort of radiance which contributes to the mythical nature of her character. Rick’s cafe also feels incredibly lived-in and bustling through the use of blocking, mise-en-scène, and diegetic ambience.

As previously mentioned, the film’s main theme is particularly iconic – the diegetic implementation of the 1931 jazz piece, As Time Goes By. The piece provides a strong romantic evocation, and is played by Sam, the house pianist, in Rick’s club.

I really enjoyed Casablanca for the inarguably timeless romance story it offered, underpinned by the hardships faced by the refugees of World War II . It holds up extremely well for an 80-year-old film, and its prestigious pedestal in cinematic history is well deserved.

Overall, I would rate Casablanca ★★★★.

*A central closeup of Ilsa,* *enhanced by key and fill lighting*

From Buster to Bogart

After film was popularised during the 1910s, it soon went from being a ‘seaside attraction’ to a commercial and vastly popular form of mass entertainment. This occurred through the death of music hall as a form of entertainment, during which cinemas overtook the buildings that were previously music halls. American entrepreneurs soon began to view film as a grand business opportunity first and foremost, rather than an art form.

Over the course of the 20th Century, film in America undertook a variety of forms. Throughout the 1910s, short films known as ‘two-reelers’ were the most popular form of entertainment. Focusing particularly on comedy, action, and romance, this style of filmmaking was perfected by the silent stars of the 1920s, such as Buster Keaton.

Film’s exponential gain in popularity over the course of the 1920s led to a drastic rise in competition, ultimately forming the ‘Big Five’ film studios that dominated the playing field. Each studio attempted to provide a sense of differentiation, offering bigger budgets, more exotic filming locations as well as featuring the most prolific stars. The studios also implemented the business tactic of vertical integration, with each studio overseeing and taking ownership of every stage of film production. Studios contracted screenwriters, editors, actors and even entire cinemas in an attempt to monopolise the film industry. Through this, both the ‘studio system’ and ‘star system’ were established.

Four film stars in particular were extremely unhappy with the state of the studio system, claiming that the studios collected an inordinate amount of money from the booming film business. D.W. Griffith, Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks collectively founded United Artists – a company premised on allowing actors to control their own line of work, rather than being fully dependant upon the domineering film studios.

*D.W. Griffith, Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks founding United Artists*

Component 1a: Hollywood 1930-1990 (Comparative Study)

The next component we are studying is Component 1a: Hollywood 1930-1990. This section of the course entails two films of study, Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) . Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as two specialist study areas – Auteurship and Context. This component also involves a direct comparison between the two studied films, unlike previous two-film components.

Being the french word for ‘author’, the concept of auteurship suggests the that each work of art is produced by a single artist alone. In concept, this auteur possesses full creative and artistic control over the film and thus, their ‘style’ becomes highly distinctive. Auteurs are often defined by specific reoccurring traits and techniques that appear throughout their body of work, placing their name above the film itself.

Context details the relevant cultural, historical, institutional, political, social, and technological background information surrounding the two films we will study.

Component 2d: Experimental Film 1960-2000 (Auteurship)

“Experimental film is often the result of an auteur challenging established conventions with fresh ideas.” With reference to your chosen film option, how far do you agree with this statement?
Summer 2019

Plan:

Introduction

Defined as a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author, being considered an auteur is a highly prestigious honour only held by small circle of filmmakers. Auteurs possess full creative control over each of their respective works and thus, the viewer is able to identify a film as being part of an auteur’s filmography from a wide range of observable tropes, such as: patterns, repetition, and motifs. Originating from the Cahiers du Cinema magazine in the 1950s, auteurship has always been closely linked with subverting the status quo, and bringing fresh ideas to the table, with revered names such as Hitchcock and Welles utilising groundbreaking techniques such as high contrast and camera fluidity to pioneer this concept.

From the very start of his filmography, Quentin Tarantino has demonstrated that he is most definitely an auteur. Throughout each of his nine films, Tarantino’s artistic expression can be viewed throughout a wide variety of patterns, tropes and motifs that set his films apart from mainstream Hollywood flicks. Tarantino’s unique style of filmmaking is universally recognisable and acknowledged by both viewer and critic alike, particularly within his second film considered by many to be his magnum opus – Pulp Fiction (1994).

Body

Mention dialogue, pop culture, trivialities

Violence

Chaptering and nonlinear narrative

Soundtrack

Postmodernism

Revitalising the career of John Travolta and Bruce Willis

The way he represents certain types of people – women, black people etc.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I firmly agree with the statement. Considered a landmark of the postmodernist movement, Tarantino actively challenges the pre-established conventions of filmmaking by utilising a wide variety of unorthodox measures throughout Pulp Fiction, such as stylised hyper-violence, a jumbled narrative structure, alongside seemingly trivial yet slick pop-culture filled dialogue, that ultimately paints Tarantino as a leading auteur of cinema.

Essay – Version 1

Defined as a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author, being considered an auteur is a highly prestigious honour only held by small circle of filmmakers. Auteurs possess full creative control over each of their respective works and thus, the viewer is able to identify a film as being part of an auteur’s filmography from a wide range of observable tropes, such as patterns, repetition, and motifs. Originating from the Cahiers du Cinema magazine in the 1950s, the concept of auteurship has always been closely linked with subverting the status quo, and bringing fresh ideas to the table, with revered names such as Hitchcock and Welles utilising groundbreaking techniques such as high contrast and camera fluidity to pioneer this concept.

A cornerstone of Tarantino’s auterial tropes present within each and every one of his films is his stylistic use of dialogue. A typical occurrence is that a character will engage in a lengthy monologue about a seemingly trivial matter that is unimportant to the overall plot. The dialogue throughout Pulp Fiction moves with a flowing rhythm, being both fast paced and densely packed. Each character actively engages in seemingly trivial monologues, concerning frivolous topics such as burgers, milkshakes, and foot massages. In effect, this dialogue does not drive the plot forward, but instead richly humanises the archetypal characters being portrayed. The viewer is then able to empathise with characters that in actuality, are repugnant humans who commit morally corrupt actions for their own personal gain.

Tarantino also frequently uses swearing within his dialogue, initially providing shock value for the viewer, but it soon becomes clear that the profanity merely acts as a device that relaxes the viewer into the rhythm of the film. It provides for more naturalistic character interactions and contributes to the slick nature of the dialogue. Frequent pop culture references also appear throughout the dialogue of Tarantino’s films, references which provide a level of satisfaction and relatability for the viewer. For example, within Pulp Fiction (1994), bands such as Kool and the Gang, and TV shows such as Green Acres are name dropped. Despite being frequently observable throughout Tarantino’s films, these pop culture references occur swiftly instant, and do not detract from the flow of the film.

Stylised violence is another motif that contributes to Tarantino’s status as an auteur. Throughout his films, Tarantino often implements hyper-violence for two main purposes: light-hearted comedy and exhilarating or subversive set-pieces. An example of violence used in a comedic sense is during the infamous “I shot Marvin in the face” scene from Pulp Fiction. Marvin’s sudden death is ridiculously exaggerated and completely unexpected, creating one of the film’s funniest moments through the subversive use of gratuitous gore. Conversely, graphic violence is used during Vincent’s untimely death at the hands of Butch to make the scene more subversive and shocking – the gore reinforces that one of the main protagonists of the film is indeed dead.

Chaptering is a narrative technique often utilised by Tarantino throughout his filmography, providing structural compartmentalisation. Throughout Pulp Fiction, chapters are used to clearly define specific sections of the film. Through this, the film possesses a distinctively episodic flow to the narrative – the film tells three clear-cut yet interwoven storylines that are presented in a highly nonlinear fashion, each being signalled by the use chapter title cards. Through this, Tarantino creates some truly subversive moments, such as Vincent’s aforementioned death which occurs in the middle of the film. At this point, the viewer is so engrossed within Butch’s chapter in the film, that the idea of Vincent being behind the bathroom door doesn’t even cross the mind of the viewer – making his untimely death all the more unexpected.

The soundtrack of each and every one of Tarantino’s films are highly prolific and contribute to his rank as an auteur. Tarantino strives to acquire an eclectic compiled score for each film, usually made up of music from the 1960s and 70s which provide an potent evocation of the respective decades. Through this, Tarantino often brings long-forgotten deep cuts of the time period into the spotlight of the modern day, and revitalises their legacy. A clear example of this can be seen within Dick Dale’s 1962 surf rock cover of Misirlou, which is now synonymous with the opening titles of Pulp Fiction.

Another unconventional technique employed throughout Pulp Fiction is postmodernism – a term closely associated with Tarantino’s body of work, often making romanticised references to aesthetics that fuel his creative inspirations. Within Pulp Fiction, this idea can be seen through Butch selecting a katana as his weapon of choice, harkening back to Tarantino’s fascination towards the films of Akira Kurosawa. The Jack Rabbit Slim’s diner pays homage to the pop culture of the 1950s – oozing with the style of the decade and displaying cultural icons such as Marilyn Monroe and Buddy Holly. Tarantino has also created a fictional brand of cigarettes (Red Apple) and burger (Big Kahuna) that appear throughout the film, with this perhaps being Tarantino’s way of light-heartedly acknowledging the postmodernist culture that his filmography is associated with. Tarantino is also a very traditional filmmaker, always opting for the use of 70mm celluloid film, despite the benefits of digital filmmaking.

Another auterial trait of Tarantino is his tendency to revitalise the careers of actors who were generally associated with playing certain types of roles in the past. For example, audiences were surprised to see the return of John Travolta – an actor of the 1970s regarded as a handsome heartthrob – cast as Vincent Vega, a charismatic yet corrupt hitman, in Pulp Fiction. Furthering this, a number of racial epithets are also prominent within the dialogue of the film, but this isn’t considered to be exploitative due to Tarantino’s conceptual footing. He instead uses these stereotypes to create strong black characters, such as Jules and Marsellus, who play a hitman and mob boss respectively – two highly dominant forces to be reckoned with.

Quentin Tarantino, Auteur

From the very start of his filmography, Quentin Tarantino has demonstrated that he is most definitely a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author, establishing his status as an auteur. Throughout each of his nine films, Tarantino’s artistic expression can be viewed throughout a wide variety of patterns, tropes and motifs. Setting his films apart from mainstream Hollywood flicks, Tarantino’s unique style of filmmaking is universally recognisable and acknowledged by both viewer and critic alike.

A cornerstone of Tarantino’s auterial tropes present within each and every one of his films is his stylistic use of dialogue. A typical occurrence is that a character will engage in a lengthy monologue about a seemingly trivial matter that is unimportant to the overall plot. A classic example of this can be seen within the opening of Reservoir Dogs (1992) in which the bank robbers engage in a conversation in a diner concerning both Madonna as well and tipping waitresses. Tarantino also uses dialogue to illustrate entertaining set-pieces, which do not drive the plot forward, but instead humanise the characters being portrayed. For example, the ‘Who Am I?’ guessing game proves to be one of the most engaging scenes in Inglorious Basterds (2009), despite not contributing to plot progression in any way.

*The classic opening scene of Reservoir Dogs (1992)*

Tarantino’s dialogue moves with a flowing rhythm, being both fast paced and densely packed throughout his films. He frequently uses swearing within his dialogue, initially providing shock value for the viewer, but it soon acts as a device that relaxes them into the rhythm of the film. It provides for more naturalistic character interactions and merely contributes to the slick nature of the dialogue. Frequent pop culture references also appear throughout the dialogue of Tarantino’s films, references which provide a level of satisfaction and relatability for the viewer. For example, within Pulp Fiction (1994), bands such as Kool and the Gang and TV shows such as Green Acres are name dropped. Despite being frequently observable throughout Tarantino’s films, these pop culture references are moved on from in an instant, and do not detract from the flow of the film. A number of racial epithets are also prominent within the dialogue, but this isn’t considered to be exploitative due to Tarantino’s conceptual footing – he instead uses these stereotypes to create strong black characters, such as Django in Django Unchained (2012) and Jackie Brown from Jackie Brown (1997).

Stylised violence is another motif that contributes to Tarantino’s status as an auteur. Throughout his films, Tarantino often implements hyper-violence for two main purposes: light-hearted comedy and exhilarating action set-pieces. An example of violence used in a comedic sense is during the infamous “I shot Marvin in the face” scene from Pulp Fiction. Marvin’s sudden death is ridiculously exaggerated and completely unexpected, creating one of the film’s funniest moments through the use of gratuitous gore. Conversely, hyper-violence is used by Tarantino in Kill Bill (2003-4) to create dramatic and enthralling set-pieces, acting as a homage to samurai cinema.

*Stylised violence within Kill Bill (2003)*

Chaptering is a narrative technique often utilised by Tarantino throughout his filmography, providing structural compartmentalisation. Appearing in films such as Pulp Fiction, Inglorious Basterds, and The Hateful Eight (2015), chapters are used to clearly define specific sections of the film. Furthermore, Tarantino’s films tend to possess an episodic flow to the narrative – particular in the case of Pulp Fiction in which three distinct yet intertwining storylines are told in a nonlinear fashion, each being signalled by chapter title cards.

Postmodernism is a term closely associated with Tarantino – he often makes romanticised references to aesthetics that fuel his creative inspirations. Within Pulp Fiction, this idea can be seen through Butch selecting a katana as his weapon of choice, harkening back to Tarantino’s obsession with the films of Akira Kurosawa. The Jack Rabbit Slim’s diner pays homage to the pop culture of the 1950s – oozing with style of the decade and displaying cultural icons such as Marilyn Monroe and Buddy Holly. Tarantino has also created a fictional brand of cigarettes (Red Apple) and burger (Big Kahuna) that appear throughout his films, perhaps it is Tarantino’s way of light-heartedly acknowledging the postmodernist culture that his filmography is associated with. Tarantino is also a very traditional filmmaker, always opting for the use of 70mm celluloid film, despite the benefits of digital filmmaking.

*The diner evocative of the 1950s – Jack Rabbit Slim’s in Pulp Fiction (1994)*

Tarantino typically recasts a particular selection of actors within his films, including the likes of Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Tim Roth, and recently Brad Pitt. Tarantino also likes to subvert the general associations with a particular actor, and in some cases reinvent and revitalise their careers. For example, audiences were surprised to see the return of John Travolta – an actor of the 1970s regarded as a handsome heartthrob – cast as Vincent Vega, a charismatic yet corrupt hitman, in Pulp Fiction.

Female characters are also represented in a strong and self-reliant light within Tarantino’s films, juxtaposing the submissive stereotypes associated with mainstream Hollywood films. Characters such as The Bride in Kill Bill and Daisy Domergue in The Hateful Eight are ruthless forces to be reckoned with, and are richly characterised throughout their respective films.

*Jennifer Jason Leigh as Daisy Domergue in* *The Hateful Eight (2015)*

Auteurs And Auteur Theory

Originating from the French masculine word for ‘author’, an auteur is defined as a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author. Auteurs possess full creative control over each of their respective works and thus, the viewer is able to identify a film as being part of an auteur’s filmography from a wide range of observable tropes, such as: patterns, repetition, and motifs.

The idea of ‘auteurship’ originated in the Cahiers du Cinema magazine (founded in 1951 by French film critic and theorist André Bazin) to praise directors that demonstrated particular artistic finesse within the studio system. The first auteurs included notable names such as Alfred Hitchcock and Orson Welles – names that are still ever-pertinent within cinema to this day.

Hitchcock established himself as an auteur through his groundbreaking implementation of filmic techniques, such as utilising lighter film cameras, allowing him to have fluid camera movements within a scene. This aided the viewer in becoming immersed within the viewpoint of a specific character, such as being able to empathise with the fear of heights that John Ferguson has in Vertigo (1958). Orson Welles is regarded by many as the “ultimate auteur”, utilising a range of revolutionary and innovative compositional techniques in order to convey narrative effectively. Welles’ scenes were often lit with high contrast, meaning that characters were often displayed completely in silhouette. This helped to create a looming sense of mystery and intrigue within his films.

*Welles’ use of high contrast lighting within Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1942)*

Auteurs are renowned by audiences for the ways in which each individual artist creatively utilises the elements of film form at their disposal. Including the likes of Christopher Nolan, some auteurs are regarded for their manipulation of narrative. Nolan often toys with the concept of time and space throughout his body of work. Other contemporary auteurs such as Wes Anderson are acclaimed for imbuing each of his films with meticulous symmetry alongside an opulently lavish aesthetic. His apt use of a pastel colour palette throughout The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) is highly evocative as well as distinctively recognisable.

*Anderson’s use of symmetry and colour palette can be seen with The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)*

Despite this, the concept of auteurship has been criticised by critics such as Pauline Kael, proclaiming that auteur theory “glorifies trash” and encourages directors to reproduce the same film time and time again. Kael argued that each film should be critiqued on its own merit, rather than solely due to a specific person creating it. Others have argued that filmmaking is a collaborative process, and auteur theory undermines the role of the crew. All credit garnered by the film is then placed under one singular name, and other creative minds who may have contributed towards the film are diminished.

Quentin Tarantino Contextualised

Quentin Tarantino is an American filmmaker, widely considered by many to be an auteur. Characterised by nonlinear narratives, embellished violence, long monologues, profanity, and references to pop culture, each of Tarantino’s nine films hold an important place in cinematic history.

Tarantino’s origins are unequivocally humble – one of his first jobs was working at Video Archives (a video rental shop) in California. He was well-liked among the regular customers and was regarded as highly proficient in both film knowledge and recommendations. Tarantino began his filmmaking career by writing a number of screenplays after being encouraged by producer Lawrence Bender, culminating in the incomplete short film, My Best Friend’s Birthday (1987). Despite not amounting to a finished product after much of the film was destroyed in a fire, Tarantino’s many screenplays began to gain a level of notoriety among producers. After Harvey Keitel, an actor of the 1970s, became enamoured with one of Tarantino’s screenplays, he was able to write, direct, and act in Reservoir Dogs (1992) – a low-budget crime thriller featuring a dialogue-driven narrative set in a single location. The film also starred Keitel, alongside kicking off the careers of well-respected actors such as Steve Buscemi and Tim Roth. Being screened at the Sundance festival that year, the film received immediate acclaim from audiences and critics.

Afterwards, Tarantino sold two of his previously written screenplays to studios to create True Romance and Natural Born Killers, both of which featured Tarantino’s name heavily on the respective posters. Audiences soon eagerly await Tarantino’s next film, of which he kept important details other than the title – Pulp Fiction – under wraps. Upon release, the film received immediate critical acclaim and five Oscar nominations, with Tarantino winning the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. By this point, Tarantino had established himself as a highly prominent and notable auteur, going on to create seven more films, including: Kill Bill (2003), Django Unchained (2012) and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). Throughout Tarantino’s body of work, certain directorial tropes are ubiquitous throughout each, making the film indicative of Tarantino’s creative influence. Including nonlinearity, stylised violence, explicit language, and compiled scores featuring songs from the 1960s and 70s, many of these tropes can be traced back to the very start of his filmography.

Tarantino also chooses to reuse many familiar names to create an ensemble cast within each of these films. Including the likes of Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Tim Roth, and recently Brad Pitt, Tarantino’s eclectic cast of actors greatly contributes to the popularity each of his films garner.

*Tarantino pictured with Uma Thurman, who frequently stars in his films*

Production Diary: Reshooting and alterations

On October 2nd, I decided to reshoot and alter some scenes of my film in order to alleviate a few issues, namely: some grainy footage, resolve some continuity errors, and to change the ending of the film entirely. This proved to be very successful, with each issue successfully being resolved.

Firstly, I decided to refilm the originally grainy shot from a slightly different angle and using a different lens, ultimately resulting in better quality footage.

Some lines and plot details were also slightly altered, such as the cafe dialogue, alongside the Hooded Figure instead donning an iconographic werewolf mask as suggested and donated by Harry Batkin.

I also decided to reimagine the ending of my film, deciding to attempt a more creative and engaging sequence involving pulling the camera back to reveal a seemingly endless pattern of The Student watching himself watch himself watch his film.

*Comparison between the old and new ending*

Component 2d: Experimental Film 1960-2000 (Narrative)

Explore how far your chosen film or films are experimental in challenging conventional approaches to narrative.
Sample Assessment Materials, 2021

Plan:

Introduction

Establish the conventions of narrative (three act structure, chronology, linearity) and introduce the theorists (Propp, Todorov etc). Contextualise the work of Tarantino (Reservoir Dogs – a low budget crime thriller set in one location etc). Pulp Fiction is an experimental and postmodernist film, considered by many to be his magnum opus. It subverts the tropes of conventional narrative structure to provide a unique and refreshing experience.

Body

Narrative structure: Takes elements from linear, circular, and episodic narrative structures to tell three interconnected stories in a vastly nonlinear fashion. Three act structure present in each chapter.

Dialogue – seemingly trivial monologues, pop culture references. Flowing rhythm facilitated by dialogue. Link to the film’s pacing.

Narrative viewpoint – fluidly shifts focus onto different characters and frames them as the protagonist at different points (Pumpkin and Honey Bunny in the prologue, Jules and Vincent during the epilogue. Shifts to Mia during overdose scene)

Narrative devices: title cards, chaptering, audience positioning (enjoying being in the company of immoral characters, characterises initially archetypal and cliched characters. Zed and Maynard framed as antagonists)

Briefly references theories and theorists throughout.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Tarantino challenges the typical approaches to narrative in a wide variety of ways throughout Pulp Fiction. Taking elements of the three types of narrative structure, Tarantino presents three distinct chapters to us in a nonlinear fashion. This, alongside other experimental narrative techniques such as narrative viewpoint, audience positioning, and ellipsis, the film is a wholly unique viewing experience, providing a refreshing pastiche of pulpy crime stories, ultimately garnering a revered status among all of cinema.

Essay – Version 1

A vital keystone of filmmaking is the overarching concept of narrative – the general flow of story information constructed by the plot. The vast majority of films typically conform to an array of preconceived narrative conventions, including: a rigid three act structure, a chronological plot, as well as the use of narrative techniques such as prolepsis, analepsis, and ellipsis. Many literary theorists, such as Vladimir Propp (who theorised the seven types of character) and Tzvetan Todorov (who formulated the Equilibrium Theory) also support these ideas, fervently stating that a narrative should be constructed in a particular way. Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) was released as the follow-up to Reservoir Dogs, a low-budget crime thriller that plays with the conventions of a typical narrative. Tarantino’s second film is widely considered by many to be his magnum opus, being classified as both postmodernist and experimental in nature, particularly in a narrative sense. Throughout the film, Tarantino subverts the traditional conventions of narrative created by the aforementioned theorists, by utilising the pre-established narrative techniques in a variety of unorthodox ways, ultimately creating a refreshing and unique experience.

One way in which Tarantino challenges the conventions of narrative is within the structure of the film. The events that occur throughout the film are a pastiche of pulpy stories of the crime genre. Tarantino immediately informs us of this through the use of a title card, which displays the two definitions of “pulp”. The first meaning is “a soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter”, perhaps hinting at the shapeless and nonlinear narrative structure of the film. The second definition, “a magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper” on the other hand, is suggestive of the titular ‘pulp fiction’ that exudes throughout. The events and characters are both highly archetypal and cliched, and this idea is immediately suggested to the viewer through the utilisation of this unconventional title card.

The story of the film is relatively simple, with the film containing four episodic chapters with interconnected characters and events. On the other hand, the plot of the film is constructed in a highly nonlinear and convoluted manner. Although each chapter itself has a linear structure, the order in which it is shown to the viewer is non-chronological. This fragmentation of the plot creates an underlying sense of anticipation, with the viewer awaiting the repercussions of the non-chronological events due to the fact that they witness the events out of order. The narrative structure of the film could also be classed as circular, due to the film being bookended by the diner robbery sequence. Through this, Tarantino has taken elements from all three types of narrative (linear, circular, and episodic) in order to create a wholly unique and experimental narrative structure.

Each chapter of the film is signalled by an intertitle, and also loosely follows the aforementioned three act structure. For example, during The Gold Watch chapter, Act 1 displays Butch being paid by Marsellus to throw his next fight, Act 2 begins with the sequence in which Butch returns to his apartment, finally concluding with Act 3 in which Butch saves Marsellus and returns to Fabienne. By only displaying fragmented acts of the multiple storylines in a jumbled succession, Tarantino subverts the viewer’s preconceived expectations of what a typical narrative structure entails, ultimately forging a unique and satisfying viewing experience in the process.

Another way in which Tarantino challenges the conventions of a typical narrative is through his use of dialogue and pacing, facilitating audience positioning in different ways throughout Pulp Fiction. The dialogue throughout the film is densely packed, containing lots more than the average film. The characters engage in seemingly trivial monologues, concerning frivolous topics such as burgers, TV pilots, and foot massages. The dialogue is also with peppered with pop culture references to branded items such as the Big Mac, bands like Kool and the Gang, and TV shows such as Green Acres. The dialogue is entertaining and enjoyable to listen to, despite the fact that it does not drive the plot forward in any way. Through this, each of the characters that initially appear to be one-noted and archetypal are thus humanised and are presented in a more charismatic light.

The viewer is encouraged to enjoy being in the company of Vincent and Jules, who in actuality, are two highly repugnant gangsters who kill people for money. Through the use of dialogue, Tarantino presents the pair as a witty and charismatic duo. The viewer is prompted to sympathise with an array of despicable characters who we initially wouldn’t. Conversely, characters such as Zed and Maynard are positioned as antagonistic forces during Butch’s story, despite perhaps being no worse than the protagonists that we root for.

Another unconventional narrative technique employed by Tarantino also involves fluidly shifting focus onto specific characters at specific times, briefly framing them as the ‘protagonist’, if only for a moment. For example, we subconsciously root for Pumpkin and Honey Bunny during the prologue, as they are the only characters we are aware of at the very start of the film. Conversely, the viewer is encouraged to support Jules and Vincent during the epilogue, as the couple are now subtly framed as the antagonists of the scene. It could be argued that Claude Levi-Strauss’ theory of binary opposition is now present within the reprise of the scene, creating a sense of suspense and tension. The focus often shifts seamlessly without the viewer noticing, an example being when the shift focuses from Vincent onto Mia when they return to the apartment, initiating the sequence in which she overdoses on heroin. This technique of narrative viewpoint also creates for some highly shocking and subversive moments, including Vincent’s sudden death at the hands of Butch. At this point, the viewer is so engrossed within Butch’s chapter in the film, that the idea of Vincent being behind the bathroom door doesn’t even cross the mind of the viewer – making his untimely death all the more unexpected.

In conclusion, Tarantino challenges the typical approaches to narrative in a wide variety of ways throughout Pulp Fiction. Taking elements from all three types of narrative, Tarantino presents three distinct chapters to us in a nonlinear fashion. This, alongside other aforementioned experimental narrative techniques such as narrative viewpoint, audience positioning, and pacing, the film’s narrative offers a truly unique viewing experience. Tarantino provides a refreshing pastiche of pulpy crime stories, ultimately garnering Pulp Fiction’s revered status among all of cinema.

Production Diary: Filming

Over the summer, I decided to film all of the footage for my short film. Below are the dates that I filmed, alongside the location and actors involved.

August 2nd: Woodlands Café, James Wickes and Jessica Gates
August 25th: My house, James Wickes
August 26th: Pine Woods, James Wickes and Harry Batkin

The filming went very well overall, I managed to capture a range of interesting shots and the actors were perfectly cast in their respective roles. All shots were handheld and taken with my iPhone 11, and although some shots had a little amount of camera shake, I managed to resolve this in LumaFusion. I unfortunately forgot to film one of the Love Interest’s lines but I managed to resolve this issue by cutting back to a previously used clip.

Through this, I have created an initial rough cut of my film, with the duration coming to 4 minutes and 46 seconds. This gives me enough leeway for credits at the end of the film.

Pulp Fiction: Narrative Drive

Quentin Tarantino utilises a variety of narrative techniques in order to propel the plot forward in enthralling and captivating ways.

Dialogue

Throughout Tarantino’s filmography, densely-packed dialogue is a keystone of Tarantino’s body of work. The characters often monologue about seemingly trivial topics, including: burgers, divine intervention, and foot massages. Tarantino’s dialogue is also peppered with pop culture references to brands such as Big Mac, bands like Kool and the Gang (who also feature in the compiled score), and TV shows such as “Green Acres”. The dialogue is entertaining and enjoyable to listen to, despite the fact that it does not drive the plot forward in any way. The viewer receives entertainment from listening in on these everyday conversations, especially from characters that you wouldn’t expect to discuss such trivial matters.

Through this, the rhythm of the film flows in a refreshing manner. Since Vincent and Jules’ journey to the apartment takes up a similar amount of screen time to the events that unfold within the flat itself, the viewer’s perception of time is shifted. The characters, which initially appear to be hollow and one-noted, are also fleshed out through these seemingly mundane conversation topics.

Character Motivations

Character motivations are defined as the driving force behind a character’s actions. These are fundamental to the viewer’s understanding of and engagement with the meanings behind the events that occur throughout the film. During Pulp Fiction, Tarantino’s aforementioned dialogue facilitates the characters’ motivations and thus, the overall narrative drive of the film.

For example, after we learn about the seemingly trivial foot massage incident, in which Tony Rocky Horror was thrown out of a window, we are able to understand and empathise with Vincent’s apprehensiveness towards taking out Mia for the night. This motivation helps drastically increase the tension during Mia’s overdose, as the viewer is left to ponder the consequences of Marsellus discovering the truth. Another example of motivations aiding the narrative drive of the film is Captain Koons’ monologue to a young Butch about the gold watch, prompting Butch to return to his apartment to reclaim it.

Cause and Effect

This idea is defined as “something that triggers an event or action (cause) and its consequences (effect)”. All films are constructed around this fundamental idea, beginning with an inciting incident and thus enacting a chain of events to be set in motion. For example, Vincent and Jules are assigned by Marsellus Wallace to collect a mysterious briefcase from an apartment. This inciting incident ultimately leads to each of the events that occur during their storyline to take place. The vividly realised and nuanced characters present within Pulp Fiction allow the cause and effect to be highly specific and esoteric throughout.

Pacing

Pacing is defined as “the rhythm at which the plot unfolds”. Being widely overlooked by many, pacing can effect the foundations of a film’s rhythm in drastic ways. An action film is typically very fast-paced, as it attempts to keep the viewer engaged with an array of high-octane sequences. Conversely, a mystery film might be more paced in a slower, more deliberate manner in order to try and keep the viewer in anticipation for as long as possible.

Tarantino deliberately paces his films in a highly unorthodox and unique manner, subverting the viewer’s expectations in the process. To elaborate, seemingly unimportant and self-indulgent scenes take up a large chunk of screen time. These include the likes of Jules and Vincent’s drive to the apartment, Captain Koons’ watch monologue, as well as Mia and Vincent’s conversation in the diner. Conversely, crucially important plot events are over in a matter of seconds – examples including Vincent shooting Marvin in the face and Vincent’s sudden death. Additionally, the viewer is subjected to Pumpkin and Honey Bunny’s meandering conversation about armed robberies at the beginning of the film, which ultimately builds up to the diner robbery. However, Tarantino teases the viewer by not showing us the aftermath of the couple holding up the restaurant until the very end of the film. In effect, this keeps the audience engaged in this plot thread up until the very end of the film, during which the robbery is finally displayed to us.

Chronological Flow

This idea is defined as “the arrangement of things following one after another in time”. The narrative of the Pulp Fiction is relatively simple, with the film containing four episodic chapters with interconnected characters and events. On the other hand, the plot of the film is constructed in a highly nonlinear and convoluted manner. Although each chapter itself has a linear structure, the order in which it is shown to the viewer is non-chronological. This fragmentation of the plot creates an underlying sense of anticipation. Due to the fact that the viewer is witnessing events out of order, we expect to see the repercussions of these events later in the film.

Pulp Fiction: Narrative Nonconformity

The concept of narrative involves the discussion of a variety of collective ideas that link to how the story of a film is presented to the viewer, alongiside how the story is internalised. This blog will explain the key narrative functions, as well as how Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994), in many cases, does not conform to these narrative conventions.

Story, plot, and narrative

The overall concept of narrative can be subdivided into three ideas: story, plot, and narrative.

Story is defined as “everything that happens in the fictional world between the beginning and the end, including events that viewers infer or presume to have happened”. In essence, this means that story is the collection of narrative events that both occur and are implied throughout the film.

Plot is defined as “what viewers see on screen and hear on the soundtrack to allow them to construct a story in their heads. Plots can begin anywhere on the chain of story events and can leap backwards and forwards in time and space.” Plot expands upon the initial concept of ‘story’ by introducing the idea of the viewer’s internal contextualisation of narrative events. Plot also hints at the idea of nonlinearity, which suggests that not all stories must be told in a rigidly chronological order.

Narrative is defined as “the flow of story information constructed by the plot at any given moment. Narrative implies a point of view, which may be that of one of the characters or of an omniscient, all-seeing narrator.” Narrative introduces the idea of using different character perspectives in order to enrich the meaning of a film. Switching perspectives often gives the viewer new insight into the characters’ motivations, as well as the meaning behind the events occurring onscreen.

In the case of Pulp Fiction, Tarantino utilises each of these narrative elements in order to create a unique and satisfying experience. The story of the film is relatively simple, with the film containing four episodic chapters with intertwining characters and events. On the other hand, the plot of the film is constructed in a highly nonlinear and convoluted manner. Although each chapter itself has a linear structure, the order in which it is shown to the viewer is non-chronological. This fragmentation of the plot creates an underlying sense of anticipation. Due to the fact that the viewer is witnessing events out of order, we expect to see the repercussions of these events later in the film.

Pulp Fiction also uses the aforementioned multi-character perspective idea, affecting the narrative of the film. For example, the restaurant robbery scene is displayed to us initially from the perspectives of Pumpkin and Honey Bunny, thus diverting our attention towards the pair as characters. We are engaged by their conversation suggesting a potential robbery and are subsequently teased by the very start of it. Tarantino provides closure on this event at the very end of the film, during which Jules and Vincent are the central focus. We now root for them, as the narrative focus has been shifted, affecting the viewer’s perception of events. On the surface, Pulp Fiction’s multiple storylines could be considered ‘clichéd’ or archetypal, due to each event that occurs being nothing that is wholly original. The predominant pleasure that the film provides is ultimately the meticulously crafted narrative structure.

The Three Act Structure

Another touchstone of storytelling is the three act structure – a model widely utilised throughout fiction. Dividing a narrative into three clear-cut sections, the typical structure involves three acts (setup, confrontation, resolution). In the case of Pulp Fiction, each chapter of the film loosely follows this structure. For example, during Butch’s story: Act 1 displays Butch being paid by Marsellus to throw his next fight, Act 2 is the sequence in which Butch returns to his apartment through to the pawn shop scene, finally concluding with Act 3 in which Butch saves Marsellus and returns to Fabienne.

By only displaying fragmented acts of the multiple storylines in quick succession, Tarantino subverts the viewer’s preconceived expectations of what a typical narrative structure entails.

Types of Narrative

There are three main types of narrative, being: linear, circular, and episodic.

Linear narrative “starts at the beginning, and continues in the order that events happen up to the end.” This is the most conventional and simple narrative structure, displaying events in a straight forward and chronological order.

Circular narrative “starts at the end, then goes back in time to return to this point later on.” This is an interesting story structure, creating an immediate narrative hook to reel in the viewer’s attention. Over the course of the film, this memory of this event will linger in the viewer’s mind and a sense of satisfaction will be provided when the event is finally reprised. A example of this can be seen in Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006). Ofelia’s death is initially displayed to the viewer in reverse at the very start of the film, and is later returned to at the end, by which point we understand the context surrounding the previously shocking and unexpected event.

Episodic narrative “has clearly separated sections, often broken up by a title, date, or a cutback to a narrator.” This allows a film to tell more than one story, perhaps in a portmanteau style. An example of this can be seen in Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) in which five stories are told, each connected by the theme of revenge.

In the case of Pulp Fiction, Tarantino utilises elements of all three modes of narrative throughout the film. For example, large chunks of the film are displayed in a wholly linear fashion, such as Vincent and Mia’s date, during which Tarantino employs techniques such as continuity editing. The narrative of the film could also be considered circular, due to the fact that the the robbery scene in the diner acts as both a prologue and epilogue section. Pulp Fiction could also be considered episodic too, seeing as the film is broken down into chapters that are signalled by intertitles.

Prolepsis (flash-forward) and Analepsis (flashback)

A pair of techniques that are often utilised within storytelling are prolepsis and analepsis.

Prolepsis (often referred to as a flash-forward) is a “temporal edit to a later point in time”. This dramatic device can be used to foreshadow and tease future events to the viewer.

Conversely, analepsis (often referred to as a flashback) is a “temporal edit to an earlier point in time”. Analepsis can be utilised to perhaps provide contextual information, displaying past events that will become relevant to the current narrative at a later point.

Tarantino uses both prolepsis and analepsis at specific points throughout Pulp Fiction. Namely, a flash-forward sequence occurs during The Bonnie Situation. This hypothetical sequence displays Bonnie returning home from work to find the gangsters handling a body in the living room. A flashback is used as a preface to Butch’s story – Captain Koons monologues to a young Butch, explaining the importance of the titular gold watch. This later contextualises Butch’s return to the apartment in order to reclaim this watch.

Ellipsis

This narrative device is defined as “the emission of a section of the story that is either obvious enough for the audience to fill in, or concealed for a narrative purpose, such as suspense or mystery”. Ellipsis is widely used throughout film, leaving the viewer to frequently assume that events have occurred. For example, unless it possesses significant importance, a character’s physical journey from point A to point B is not usually displayed to the viewer due to the fact that we can safely assume how they reached this destination. Ellipsis is also used for much more dramatic purposes, such as in 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968) in which Kubrick famously match cuts from a spinning bone to a spaceship, effectively fast-forwarding the entire evolution of humankind.

Pulp Fiction uses ellipses to withhold important information from the viewer at specific points in the film, ultimately providing a sense of gratification when the viewer pieces the events together. A clear example of this is during the shared prologue and epilogue of the film – the diner scene. During the prologue, we are only aware of Pumpkin and Honey Bunny’s presence and only later learn during the epilogue that Jules and Vincent are in fact sitting in the same location.

*Kubrick’s famous bone-to-spaceship match cut*

Narrative Viewpoint

Narrative viewpoint is the lens through which we view the plot. There are three main types of narrative, being: restricted, unrestricted/omniscient, and voiceover/narrative.

A restricted narrative viewpoint is when “the audience only know as much as the main character.” This viewpoint is often used to create a sense of mystery; due to the viewer only having the knowledge of the protagonist they are also encouraged to connect with them on a deeper level.

An unrestricted/omniscient viewpoint is when “the audience sees aspects of the narrative that the main character does not.” This type of viewpoint often creates dramatic irony – a useful narrative device that creates tension and suspense.

Voiceover/narration is “an omniscient or subjective non diegetic verbal commentary.” Narration is often used in films such as Fight Club (David Fincher, 1999) and GoodFellas (Martin Scorsese, 1990) to provide a direct line of communication between the characters and the viewer. However, voiceover often provides a biased perspective on events. Despite this, the two aforementioned films utilise this to their advantage.

Tarantino combines both restricted and unrestricted viewpoints throughout Pulp Fiction, providing a sense of satisfaction for the viewer in both cases. An example of a restricted viewpoint in the film is during the scene where Jules and Vincent collect the briefcase from the apartment. During this scene, the viewer is unaware that there is a man in the bathroom with a gun and we only learn this fact once we return to the scene later in the film.

An unrestricted viewpoint used in the film is the scene where Mia overdoses on heroin. Earlier in the film, Vincent is displayed buying powered heroin from Lance. At Mia’s apartment, Vincent leaves this heroin on the table, prompting Mia to snort a line after getting back from Jack Rabbit Slim’s, as she assumes that it is cocaine. With the use of an omnipotent narrative viewpoint, Tarantino creates dramatic irony during this scene, establishing suspense and drama.

Narrative Devices

These are an assortment of techniques used frequently throughout storytelling for a variety of intended effects. These include title cards, intertitles, chaptering, and audience positioning.

Title cards are “printed contextual text at the start of the film”. Pulp Fiction opens with a dictionary definition of “pulp”, displaying the two meanings to the viewer. The first meaning is “a soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter” which perhaps hints at the overall narrative structure of the film. The second definition, “a magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper” is suggestive of the “Pulp Fiction” present throughout. The events and characters are both highly archetypal and cliched, and this idea is immediately suggested by the dictionary title card.

The second narrative devices is intertiles, which are instances of “printed text or narration shown between scenes”. Popularised by silent filmmakers such as Buster Keaton, this technique was to convey expositional information that could not be told through silent action. As such, intertiles are not present throughout Pulp Fiction.

Chaptering is the “division of a narrative into distinct, labelled units.” Linking to the aforementioned episodic narrative structure, this narrative device allows filmmakers to present multiple, clear-cut storylines. Tarantino employs chaptering to divide the three interconnected storylines into distinct episodes of the film. These chapters include “Vincent Vega and Marcellus Wallace’s Wife”, “The Gold Watch”, and “The Bonnie Situation”.

Audience positioning is a nuanced and engaging narrative device that involves “how the narrative encourages or discourages audience sympathies and reactions.” In Pulp Fiction, this causes the viewer to empathise with different characters in different ways at different times. The characters, who we initially view as mere archetypes of the crime genre, are thus humanised by how Tarantino positions the audience. We enjoy being in the company of Vincent and Jules, two highly repugnant gangsters who kill people for money are presented as a charismatic and comedic duo. The viewer is encouraged to sympathise with an array of despicable characters who we initially wouldn’t.

Conversely, characters such as Zed and Maynard are positioned as antagonistic forces during Butch’s story, despite perhaps being no worse than the protagonists that we root for. The audience is also positioned to view different characters as the ‘protagonist’ during certain section of the film. For example, we subconsciously root for Pumpkin and Honey Bunny during the prologue, but support Jules and Vincent during the epilogue as the couple are framed as the antagonists within the reprise of the scene. The focus often shifts fluidly without the viewer noticing, an example being when the shift focuses from Vincent onto Mia when they return to the apartment.

*The ‘pulp’ dictionary definition title card*

Narrative Theories and Theorists

A number of narrative theorists formulated specific theories concerning storytelling, characters and structure. These include Vladimir Propp, Tzvetan Todorov, Roland Barthes, and Claude Levi-Strauss. Taking these theories into account, it becomes clear that Pulp Fiction does not conform to typical narrative conventions.

Vladimir Propp was a Soviet literary theorist who studied Russian folklore and created two narrative theories. He first theorised the concept of the seven character archetypes that all characters in fiction must conform to. These include the Hero, Villain, Princess, Donor, Dispatcher, Helper, and the False Hero. Each of these character types supposedly serve a specific purpose in each narrative. In Pulp Fiction’s case, Tarantino does not conform to the idea of the seven character types due to the fact that we do not follow a single journey, and each character in the film fulfils multiple roles at particular times.

Propp’s second theory involved the idea of 31 narrative functions that every story would contain at least some of, in a particular pre-conceived order. Again, this theory does not apply to Pulp Fiction seeing as the theory only applies to stories told in a chronological order.

Tzvetan Todorov was a Bulgarian-French historian who created the ‘Equilibrium Theory’, stating that every story is made up five stages. These include equilibrium, disruption of equilibrium, recognition of disruption, resolution, and new equilibrium. Once again, this theory does not apply to Pulp Fiction – its fragmented narrative subverts both this theory alongside the viewer’s prior knowledge of narrative structure.

Roland Barthes was a French essayist who created the ‘Narrative Codes Theory’, stating that all stories are made up of two types of codes. Firstly, the ‘action code’ involves a physical event that is displayed, prompting the viewer to ponder the consequences of it. An example of an action code in Pulp Fiction is the scene where Vincent accidentally shoots Marvin in the face. The viewer is left in awe of this shocking event, causing them to possess an intrigue as to what the consequences might be.

The second type of code created by Barthes is the ‘enigma code’. This idea depicts an intriguing event that creates a sense of mystery, and prompts the viewer to acquire an interest in unravelling the mystery. Tarantino employs this idea in Pulp Fiction by using the elusive briefcase to create a sense of intrigue. Furthermore, the viewer never actually finds out what is in the briefcase, letting the mystery remain unsolved forever.

Claude Lévi-Strauss was a French anthropologist who created the theory of ‘Binary Opposition’. He argued that audience engagement is driven by tension between binary opposites, such as: good vs evil, race, and social rankings. Whilst binary opposites are not a prominent theme featured throughout Pulp Fiction, certain predicaments do arise from opposing views – an example being when Mia wishes to dance, but Vincent does not. Instead, Tarantino paints characters who possess morally grey compasses and exist between the binary idea of good vs evil.

In conclusion, Tarantino subverts both the audience’s and theorists’ preconceived notions of what a conventional narrative is made up of. Instead, he chooses to present the film in a refreshing and unique manner, utilising an array of narrative devices at his disposal whilst maintaining a sense of underlying individuality.

Pulp Fiction Contextualised

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) holds a highly influential place in the history of cinema. Winning the Palme d’Or at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival, the film was both a critical and commercial success. The film also revitalised the careers of both John Travolta and Bruce Willis, and its self-reflexivity and pastiche impacted the legacy of independent cinema forever.

To delve into Pulp Fiction’s cultural impact on cinema, we must first establish an understanding of the creative auteur behind it all: Quentin Tarantino.

While working in a video rental shop, Tarantino began his career by writing a number of screenplays after being encouraged by Lawrence Bender. Despite not amounting to a final product, this led to Tarantino gaining notoriety among producers. Because of this, he was able to write, direct, and act in Reservoir Dogs (1992) – a low-budget crime thriller featuring a dialogue-driven narrative set in a single location. Being screened at the Sundance festival that year, the film received immediate acclaim from critics.

Afterwards, Tarantino sold two of his previously written screenplays to studios to create both True Romance and Natural Born Killers, both of which featured Tarantino’s name heavily on the respective posters. Audiences soon eagerly await Tarantino’s next film, of which he kept important details other than the title – Pulp Fiction – under wraps. Upon release, the film received immediate critical acclaim and five Oscar nominations, with Tarantino winning the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. By this point, Tarantino had established himself as a highly prominent and notable auteur, going on to create seven more films, including: Kill Bill (2003), Django Unchained (2012) and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). Throughout Tarantino’s body of work, certain directorial tropes are ubiquitous throughout each, making the film indicative of Tarantino’s creative influence. Including nonlinearity, stylised violence, explicit language, and compiled scores featuring songs from the 1960s and 70s, many of these tropes can be traced back to the very start of his filmography.

With this in mind, Pulp Fiction can be defined as an experimental and postmodernist film. Featuring the majority of Tarantino’s directorial tropes, it acts as a prime exemplar of Tarantino’s body of work, establishing him as an auteur.

The film displays several interconnected storylines to the viewer in a nonlinear fashion now typical of Tarantino’s oeuvre. Cleverly building upon pre-conceived cliches of the crime genre, Pulp Fiction presents archetypal characters – such as a charismatic hitmen duo, a washed-up boxer, alongside a a stoic mob boss and his self-aware wife – in a fresh and unique narrative format.

A large portion of the dialogue featured throughout the film initially appears to be superfluous, as it doesn’t seem to drive the narrative forward in any meaningful direction. Considerable amounts of the film are dedicated to monologues centring around seemingly ‘mundane’ conversation topics, including: burgers, bible verses, and foot massages. In actuality, this dialogue richly characterises the archetypal characters of the crime genre presented to us. The dialogue has a snappy yet naturalistic style to it, through which the viewer is able to relate to and empathise with each of the characters on a deeper, parasocial level. This distinctive style of dialogue also further portrays Tarantino as an auteur, being present throughout his entire filmography.

The film additionally features very strong and graphic violence, a taboo that was seldom seen within the mainstream of cinema at the time. Being another common trope of Tarantino’s body of work, the extreme violence is presented in a humorous and exaggerated manner, creating a sense of irony.

Pulp Fiction’s status as a touchstone of postmodern cinema is due to a variety of factors – namely its extensive use of homage and pastiche to older works. Throughout the film, Tarantino makes subtle reference to many of his filmmaking inspirations – such as Hitchcock’s Psycho. The scene when Marcellus turns his head to see Butch in the car directly mirrors a similar scene from the 1960 classic. Similarly, the shot of the taxi licence when Butch is paying Esmeralda mirrors a similar shot in Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976). Butch also uses katana to kill Maynard, a samurai sword seen throughout many Japanese films that inspired Tarantino, such as Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954).

The film’s score is also entirely compiled, being made up of an eclectic soundtrack predominantly from the 1960s and 70s. For example, Dick Dale’s rendition of Misirlou is famously used during the opening credits of the film, with Tarantino stating that “it sounds like rock and roll spaghetti Western music”. Each and every song used by Tarantino throughout the film garnered a renewed surge in popularity, such as Urge Overkill’s cover of Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon. This further demonstrates Tarantino’s influence as an auteur.

Tarantino’s use of pastiche throughout the film also contributes to Pulp Fiction’s postmodern status. A famous scene in the film displays Mia and Vincent dancing the twist to Chuck Berry’s You Never Can Tell. The cinematography and choreography of the scene parodies a scene in Bande à part (Jean-Luc Goddard, 1964) in which the three main characters decide to spontaneously dance in a crowded cafe. Another example is Christopher Walken’s monologue to a young Butch about his time in a POW camp, pastiching his role in The Deer Hunter (Michael Camino, 1978).

*Comparing Pulp Fiction and Bande à part*

Production Diary: Stop the Clock

Over the summer, I decided to film all of the appropriate footage for my coursework. Due to my efforts being focused towards the act of filming, I have not made a production diary log in over a month.

My next steps are to edit together a rough cut, which I plan to show to my teacher in due time. The most important step I must take in order to achieve this involves acquiring appropriate diegetic and non-diegetic sound to underscore my film.

Alongside this, I plan to reshoot some a small amount of shots to reduce unintentional camera shake. I also plan to write a blog post about soundtrack research, alongside a blog post about the minor changes I have made to my film.

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) is the second film in Tarantino’s filmography, and is heralded by many as his magnum opus. The film is a hybrid of many genres, namely crime and comedy, and features an eclectic cast including the likes of Samuel L. Jackson, John Travolta, Bruce Willis, and Uma Thurman.

The film displays several storylines in a nonlinear fashion now typical of Tarantino’s oeuvre. Cleverly building upon pre-conceived cliches of the crime genre, Pulp Fiction presents archetypal characters – such as charismatic hitmen, a prideful boxer, and a stoic mob boss – in a new and unique narrative format.

A large portion of the dialogue featured throughout the film appears to be superfluous, as it doesn’t seem to drive the narrative forward in any meaningful direction. Considerable amounts of the film are dedicated to monologues centring around seemingly ‘mundane’ conversational topics, including: burgers, bible verses, and foot massages. In actuality, this dialogue richly characterises the caricatures being portrayed – implying subtextual ideas throughout. Through this dialogue, the viewer is able to relate to each of the characters on a deeper, parasocial level. This distinctive style of dialogue also reinforces Tarantino as an auteur, being a cornerstone of his filmography.

The film additionally features very strong and graphic violence, a taboo that was seldom seen within the mainstream of cinema at the time. Being another common feature of Tarantino’s body of work, the extreme violence is presented in a humorous manner, creating a sense of irony. An example of this can be seen during the infamous “I shot Marvin in the face!” scene, during which an intensely gruesome event is portrayed through a light-hearted lens.

Personally, Pulp Fiction is one of my all-time favourite films. The enchanting characters in tandem with the jumbled narrative structure creates a wholly unique experience. I love the intricately crafted dialogue and the sense of enthralment every scene produces, but if I had to pick a favourite it would be Vincent’s untimely death halfway through the film.

Overall, I would rate Pulp Fiction ★★★★★.

Component 2d: Experimental Film 1960-2000

The fourth component we are studying is Component 2d: Experimental Film. This section of the course entails one film of study, Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994). Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as two specialist study areas – Auteurship and Narrative.

The second specialist study area, narrative, is centred around the discussion of how the story (the events that occur) is told through the plot (how the events are displayed to the viewer). Narrative is meticulously crafted by filmmakers, with techniques such as flashbacks, time skips and nonlinearity being employed. In effect, a nuanced narrative provides an intriguing and enthralling experience for the viewer.

Production Diary: Soundtrack Research

Soundtrack is a vital element of film, being responsible for the contextualisation of the mood and atmosphere of a scene. The context and atmosphere of a scene are subject to completely change with the addition of a specific soundtrack.

My film will contain a mix of both diegetic and non-diegetic sound throughout, with both requiring to undergo careful consideration. For example, I will underscore the opening shots of the film in the bedroom with the diegetic ambience of a clock ticking, indicating that the student is under time constraints.

For the woods scenario, I will select a score that evokes a sense of urgency, typical of a chase scene in a thriller. My current plan is to use parts of “Labor Intensive” from A Quiet Place (John Krasinski, 2018).

For the café scene, I am currently planning to use Elliott Smith’s Between the Bars. It is stripped back in nature, being made up of only soft vocals and an acoustic guitar. This matches the setting and aligns with the conventions of the intended romance genre I am attempting to emulate and parody.

For the ending of my film, I require a piece that evokes a sense of unnerve, accentuating the drama and shock value of the scene. Currently, I am using “The Greatest Trick” from The Usual Suspects (Bryan Singer, 1995), which plays during the shocking reveal of Keyser Söze’s true identity.

Production Diary: Wardrobe and prop acquisition

The costumes and props that I plan to include in my film are relatively basic, and will not require meticulous planning. Below is a general outline of the costumes and props that each character will wear and use.

Costumes

The Student/Protagonist: basic casual clothes – hoodie, tracksuit bottoms, etc.

Hooded Figure: black hoodie, black trousers, werewolf mask

Love Interest: casual clothes suitable for a date

Props

An iPad for The Student to conceptualise their film idea. For this, I can simply use my own Film Studies iPad.
Menus for the café scene, which I should be able to simply borrow from the café itself.
I have now decided for a werewolf mask to be worn by the Hooded Figure. Harry has a mask perfect for the occasion, and will simply bring it on the day of filming.

Production Diary: Storyboards

Below is a list of the 21 planned important shots that I hope to include in my film, as well as the corresponding storyboards.

Important Shots

Establishing wide of house
Closeup of clock ticking
Birds-eye-view shot of the student at a desk
Closeup of calendar
Tracking shot of student walking to curtains
Mid closeup of student typing
Ground level tracking shot of protagonist
Over the shoulder shot looking at hooded figure
Crab shot of chase
Tracking shot of protagonist tripping, slowly dollies up to reveal face
Low angle shot of hooded figure looking down
Mid closeup of student at desk
Tracking shot of protagonist in cafe
Mid closeup of protagonist at table
Wide shot of love interest walking through the door
Shot/reverse shot at table
Waiter POV shot
Closeup of love interest talking to camera
Closeup of student looking out of window
Multiple snippets of the two ideas cut in sequence (editing)
Over the shoulder shot of student watching TV

Storyboards

Production Diary: Screenplay

Writer’s Block: First Draft

Writer’s Block: Final Draft

In the redraft of my screenplay, I decided to cut down on the amount of narration as I deemed some of The Student’s internal dialogue unnecessary. I also presented The Student as slightly more sarcastic and self-aware in the final draft, which can be seen particularly during the window scene.

Production Diary: Location Scouting

As previously mentioned, I will shoot my short film in three locations: my house, the woods and a café. Below are a collection of photos, displaying each setting.

Bedroom

*The desk at which The Student will sit*

Living Room

*This is the angle at which I plan to film The Student, who will sit on the sofa*

Woods

*An intriguing dip in the woods that The Protagonist could trip over*

Café

Production Diary: Research into equipment

Throughout the production process of my film, I must utilise an array of basic filmmaking equipment in order to best capture adequate footage.

Filmmaking Equipment: The Basics

Camera

It goes without saying that the camera is inarguably the most important piece of equipment to consider during the filmmaking process. For my film, I will most likely employ the use of my iPhone 11 due to it being extremely compact, whilst also being able to film at a professional quality. However, if I am unhappy with the quality of my camera, I can resort to borrowing a camera from the department at school.

*My iPhone 11, which I plan to film with*

Lenses

If I do decide to film with a proper camera, I must carefully take different lenses into consideration. Each lens is best utilised for a specific shot type, or to create a specific effect. These include:

Macro lenses which are best utilised for closeups/extreme closeups with the intention of capturing a colossal amount of detail in a single image
Telephoto lenses are zoom lenses that have multiple focal points that are best utilised for isolating a subject that is placed far away in the frame.
Wide angle lenses are used for fitting a large area into a frame. This is very useful for establishing wide shots with an intended deep depth of field.
Standard lenses have mid-range focal lengths and can be used for a wide variety of shots, including wide angle shots as well as closeups.
Fisheye lenses are ultra-wide-angle lenses that capture a full 180º radius. In effect, this distorts an image’s field of view and creates a peculiar bubble-like effect.

Lighting

As detailed in a previous blog post, most scenes benefit from the implementation of a basic three-point lighting setup. This includes a key light, a fill light and a backlight.

Tripod

In order to guarantee steady and stable filmmaking, the use of a tripod is imperative. I currently own a basic iPhone tripod, but it is relatively small in height and it has the potential to restrict my filmmaking ability. I am considering the possibility of obtaining a different tripod, but am currently uncertain of the means of doing this.

Microphone

Capturing sound is another vital element of filmmaking which I will most likely achieve through the built-in microphone on my iPhone. Alternatively, I could employ the use of a boom mic and pole for an overall improvement in sound quality, but I do not believe the drastic inconvenience to be worth only a marginal improvement.

Production Diary: Research into lighting

Lighting is a vitally important element of filmmaking and is a quintessential technique in evoking a specific style. The three core types of lighting are key, fill and, backlighting – each serving a different purpose which is explained below.

Types of lighting

Key Lighting

The key light acts as the primary light source of a scene, usually being the strongest light on the set. The key light can be placed anywhere to create a number of different effects, but it is recommended to avoid placing it near the camera.

There are two main types of key lighting, being high key and low key. High key lighting refers to a style of lighting that displays an extremely bright scene, with no shadows present. Conversely, low key lighting contains lots of shadows and perhaps only one strong key light source.

Fill Lighting

Fill lighting is used to ‘fill in’ any unwanted shadowy areas that the key light creates. Noticeably weaker than the key light, the fill light is usually placed in the opposite direction to the key light.

Backlighting

Backlighting completes the third dimension of a scene, usually facing the primary subject of the scene. Once again, the backlight is considerably less intense than the key light. In effect, a backlight accentuates the silhouette of a subject.

Film Lighting Techiques — *Diagram of the three-point lighting system*

Production Diary: Research into storyboarding conventions

At their core, storyboards act as a visual guide for the production process of filming, informing the director of the basic composition of each shot of the film. A basic storyboard consists of a series of images that read like a comic strip, each panel representing a shot of your film. Below is a step-by-step guide on how to create a storyboard.

Steps to create a storyboard:

1. Make a shot list

After writing your screenplay, write down and number a list of each shot in a particular scene. At this point, it is important to consider what type of shot or angle will most effectively convey a particular meaning or effect.

2. Sketch out storyboard panels

Either using a storyboard template or digital software, sketch out each shot in a separate panel on your storyboard, numbering each as you go.

3. Add any important detail

Be sure to convey any important motion on your storyboarding by implementing directional arrows. Any props of particular importance must also be detailed on the storyboard.

4. Write the corresponding action or dialogue below each panel

This helps to contextualise the particular shot and illustrate the bigger picture of the film as a whole.

Production Diary: Research into screenplay conventions

The screenplay which I will soon write for my film must be formatted in a specific manner, consisting of six main elements.

Elements of a Screenplay

Scene Heading

Also known as the slug line, the scene heading is written in all capitals and is accompanied by INT (interior) or EXT (exterior) respectively. Alongside this, the scene heading purpose is to also give a brief description of the location or setting, as well as the time of day.

Action

Action describes anything that is able to be seen or heard. Any sound effects of importance must be written in block capitals.

Characters

The names of characters belong on a separate line in all capitals. Any character who appears off-screen or any voiceover should be accompanied by (O.S.) or (V.O.) respectively.

Parenthesis

Parenthesis (or brackets) provide contextual information or act as a stage direction for dialogue delivery. These should be used sparingly as to not reduce the readability of the screenplay.

Dialogue

Dialogue is formatted as blocks offset from all other text and is centralised on the page. Any overlapping dialogue is written in a block parallel to the main dialogue block.

Transition

Transitions mark the change from one scene to another, perhaps denoting a shift in time or place. This effectively marks any visual cues on the screenplay, but these should also be used sparingly.

*An example of a correctly formatted screenplay*

Production Diary: Action points and preparation possibilities

In order to fully prepare for the production process of my film, there are a number of actions I must take, primarily involving location scouting and casting.

Locations

My film will take place over three locations, being:

The house of the student (including a bedroom, living room and possibly a kitchen)
A forest area for the setting of the thriller scenario
A café setting for the romance scenario

The first two locations are relatively convenient to film in, due to the fact that I will film the scenes with the student in my own house. Alongside this, I will utilise the woods area located near my house for the setting of the thriller scenario.

The café setting will be slightly more of an inconvenience to locate, as I will have to contact one of the local cafés in my village to request filming permission. At this point in time, my main targets are Woodlands Café -due to my family being in acquaintance with the owners – or perhaps the outside café area in Jubilee Park.

Casting

As previously mentioned there will be four main characters in my film. Listed below are the actors I have cast to play each character.

James Wickes – The Student // The Protagonist

*Pictured above is James Wickes, who is set to play both The Student and The Protagonist. Here, he can ironically be seen with an iPad* *at a* *desk*. *His nonchalant yet modest demeanour will suit the role perfectly.*

Harry Batkin – The Hooded Figure

*Pictured above is Harry Batkin*, *his wolf-like appearance and dark brown hair will suit the hooded figure character well.*

Jessica Gates – The Love Interest

*Pictured above is Jessica Gates, her friendly and outgoing disposition will greatly suit the role of The Love Interest during the hypothetical romance scenario*.

Production Diary: Pitch and reflection

Below is a video of me pitching my film idea to the class. I believe it went relatively well, as the feedback from my teacher was all positive. I was also not asked any questions from the class.

My pitch

Reflection:

During the pitch, perhaps I could’ve directed more of my focus towards the bigger picture of my film, rather than unnecessarily focusing on specific shot types.

Production Diary: Treatment

Working Title:

Writer’s Block

Logline:

Centring around the concepts of both Metacinema and breaking the fourth wall, my film idea involves a student hopelessly attempting to conceptualise an idea for a short film.

Characters:

The Student – the Film Studies student who is attempting to create a short film.

The Protagonist – the central character that will appear in each of the hypothetical film scenarios.

(I am currently unsure whether The Student and The Protagonist will be played by the same actor or not.)

The Hooded Figure – the pursuer of the protagonist within the horror idea.

The Love Interest – the romantic interest that will appear within the romance idea.

Brief:

Despite previously noting that my film will classify under the “parallel stories” brief, I have now decided to opt for the “narrator” brief, due to it being much more achievable and lucidly recognisable.

Synopsis:

We open on an establishing shot of a house, before cutting to a birds-eye-view shot of a student – sitting at a desk – who is hopelessly attempting to conceptualise an idea for a short film. The student begins to type an idea, whilst narrating his thoughts out loud. We then cross-fade into a visual representation of what this idea is, alongside narration of what is happening.

The idea depicts a highly stereotypical horror chase scene in the woods, during which a terrified protagonist is running away from a hooded figure. As the chase ensues, the student’s narration continues before fading out. The chase ends with the protagonist falling to the ground, before the hooded figure reveals themselves to be just a regular person, telling the protagonist that the idea is too generic.

Out of frustration, the student deletes the typed idea before leaving the room. We follow him to the kitchen with a tracking shot as he pours himself a drink, contemplating the ideas in his head (more narration). Coming back to the desk, the student receives a message from his teacher urgently asking him to submit his idea before the deadline. As the student begins to type and narrate a new idea, we fade to another hypothetical scenario involving a cliché scene of the romance genre in a café.

The scenario involves the same protagonist arriving at a restaurant/café for a first date. A tracking shot displays the protagonist sitting at a table, before anxiously awaiting his date’s arrival (glance object of watch?). The woman enters and sits at the table, after which the pair engage in conversation in a shot/reverse shot sequence. The scenario ends with the woman breaking the fourth wall, and informing the protagonist that this scenario is also far too stereotypical.

In a state of desperation, the student continues to frantically type as we rapidly cut to different snippets of the scenarios in a sequence. The film ends with the twist reveal that the student’s final film idea is in fact the film that that you are watching. This will be revealed during the final shot of the film, with it being an over-the-shoulder of the student sitting and watching the opening shot of the film on their TV.

Production Diary: Production Idea

After viewing and blogging about each of the eighteen short films that make up the Eduqas Short Film Collection, the research stage of the coursework process is completed. It is now time to move onto the second element of coursework: pre-production, the first order of business being an outline of my production idea.

Idea

The keystones of my film idea involve the concepts of both Metacinema and breaking the fourth wall. The basic plot of the film depicts a student who is attempting to conceptualise an idea for a short film. Perhaps opening on an establishing shot of a house, the opening scene of the film will display the student sitting at a desk with an iPad, hopelessly unable to come up with an idea.

After displaying a closeup of blank Notes page, the student begins to type and we then cross-fade into a visual representation of what this idea is. We fade to a highly stereotypical horror chase scene in the woods, before coming to an abrupt end (perhaps a comedic resolution). Out of frustration, the student deletes the typed idea before leaving the desk. Coming back later, the student receives a message from his teacher urgently asking him to submit his idea before the deadline. As the student begins to type, we fade to another hypothetical idea involving a cliché scene of the romance genre in a café.

In a state of desperation, the student continues to frantically type as we rapidly cut to different scenarios in a sequence. The film ends with the reveal that the student’s final film idea is in fact the film that that you are watching.

Due to the film involving the portrayal of multiple hypothetical narratives, my film could nicely classify under the ‘narrative which has parallel stories’ brief.

Production Diary: La Ricotta (Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1962)

La Ricotta (Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1962) is a 35-minute Italian short film starring the acclaimed Orson Welles, who plays the director (an exaggerated impersonation of Pasolini himself) of a production of the Passion of Jesus. The main character, however, is Stracci – a penurious and starving extra on the set of the film. After attempting to scavenge the set for food, Stracci eventually finds a bountiful amount of ricotta cheese that he immediately gorges on. This turns out to be a fatal mistake, as Stracci tragically but ironically dies on the set while being ‘crucified’.

The film’s primary objective is to serve as a social commentary for the marginalisation of the poor. Pasolini believed that the poor were neglected by a society that prided themselves on being Christian. Pasolini’s portrayal of a production of the Passion is his critique of a corrupt society that is merely interested in garnering superficial reputability. This is demonstrated to the viewer through the actors’ disinterest in the production itself and their lazy and tormenting behaviour during their breaks.

Pasolini incorporates a number of techniques throughout the film in order to create meaning. Stracci’s desperation for food is conveyed to the viewer through fast-motion footage of his dire runs for food, this exaggerated physical comedy being reminiscent of Buster Keaton. In addition, the film is shot in black and white for the majority of its runtime and colour is exclusively utilised to display the production of the Passion of Jesus.

*The production of the Passion of Christ portrayed throughout La Ricotta (shot in colour)*

Due to technical difficulties, I was originally unable to extrapolate any meaning from La Ricotta and thus did not receive any sort of enjoyment from the film. After conducting research, the film’s meaning ultimately demonstrated to me the effectiveness of social commentary within a short film.

Production Diary: Night Fishing (Park Chan-wook, 2011)

Night Fishing (Park Chan-wook, 2011) is a South Korean 33-minute short film of the fantasy/horror genre. The film entails a man who reels the seemingly dead body of a woman during a evening fishing trip. After suddenly rising from the dead, the man and woman symbolically swap clothes, before the fisherman is killed and his spirit enters the woman. Afterwards, the scene starkly changes – we cut to the woman who we can assume is a spirit channeller, rising from a bath. The man speaks to his family using the woman as a vessel, begging his estranged daughter for forgiveness at his own funeral.

The film’s main ‘gimmick’ is the fact that it was shot entirely on an iPhone 4, perhaps Park’s way of displaying the advancement of digital technology throughout the modern age. However, due to this, the film’s resolution is of a low quality and hasn’t particularly aged well. The digital grading employed by Park throughout the film is also highly prolific, with the colours appearing to be overly saturated particularly during the opening sequence. This saturation is later juxtaposed during the ‘night fishing’ scene where the opposite is apparent – colour appears to have been digitally drained from the setting.

The narrative structure of the film is also very convoluted. Although the events seem to play out in chronological order, the sheer nonsensicality of the plot instils an acute sense of disorientation within the viewer, albeit an extremely memorable viewing experience. The non-diegetic composed score featured throughout the film also accentuates the dramatic events on-screen.

Personally, I enjoyed Night Fishing for its highly idiosyncratic means of storytelling but was however slightly disillusioned by the actual events of the narrative. The aforementioned choice by Park to film entirely on an iPhone 4 now seems incredibly gimmicky rather than revolutionary, and the film shows its age in this regard. The film demonstrated to me how an unorthodox narrative structure can disorient the viewer in an effective and meaningful way.

Production Diary: Swimmer (Lynne Ramsay, 2012)

Swimmer (Lynne Ramsay, 2012) is a 16-minute short film that displays an unnamed swimmer’s journey through a series of rural rivers, during which he encounters an array of people in an attempt to reconnect with society.

The film’s narrative is highly ambiguous in nature and does not conform to a cohesive three-act structure. The film immediately makes its most vital priority clear: creating a stunning visual spectacle. The opening POV shot establishes a serene and pensive tone which continues throughout whilst also placing the viewer in the mind of the swimmer. It is at this point that we are also introduced to the slick greyscale grading seen throughout the film. Another key aspect of the aesthetic of Swimmer is Ramsay’s careful consideration of the sun’s reflection onto the water, which is particularly breathtaking in the final scene.

The soundscape primarily consists of the tranquil diegetic sounds of the splashing water in tandem with a juxtaposing non-diegetic compiled score that is evocative of British patriotism. After the titular swimmer is shot by an arrow at the hand of a tribal child, the pace of editing becomes extremely tumultuous which is reflective of the state of mind of the swimmer.

Personally, I did not receive much enjoyment from Swimmer due to its lack of any particular narrative complexity or character development. The stunning visual spectacle was indeed beautiful, but the novelty soon wore off. The film demonstrated to me the effective combination of diegetic and non-diegetic sound used to build up atmosphere.

Production Diary: Pitch Black Heist (John Maclean, 2012)

Pitch Black Heist (John Maclean, 2012) is a 13-minute short film concerning a pair of professional safe crackers who embark on a heist to rob a safe from an office. However, the alarm system immediately kills the lights, obliging the duo to meticulously learn the layout of the room beforehand.

Maclean employs a number of techniques throughout the film in order to create meaning. Choosing to film in black and white symbolises the moral ambiguity of the characters and perhaps places the film as a homage to classic noir crime dramas. The setting of the film is highly authentic and grounded in reality, the only main locations being a warehouse, a pub and the office with the safe. This separates the film from high-octane heist flicks seen within mainstream cinema, and informs the viewer that it should be taken somewhat seriously. The heist itself is filmed entirely in darkness, encouraging the viewer to exclusively direct their focus on the diegetic sounds of both the dialogue and sound.

Throughout the linear three act structure the film utilises, the primary focus that the film attends to is the development between the two main characters, displayed to the viewer during the pub scene. Through an array of humorous jump-cuts which transition between the characters taking part in leisurely activities such as drinking and arm-wrestling, we soon learn that Michael is much more sincere and reserved, whereas Liam is headstrong and often insensitive. The dialogue during these scenes are both snappy and authentic, further adding to the grounded tone that the film adheres to. During this, it is revealed that Michael’s father abandoned him at a young age, which later becomes a vital plot point of the film.

*The two characters arm-wrestling, the white backdrop juxtaposes the black and grey clothes worn by the pair*

The ending of the film is rather ambiguous, during which Michael purposefully activates the alarm by lighting a cigarette. I believe the implied meaning to be that Liam is in fact Michael’s dad that abandoned him and Michael leaving him to be caught by the police is his enactment of revenge. This shocking twist allows for an unexpectedly dramatic resolution to the film and releases the tension created by the two minutes of darkness prior.

Personally, I enjoyed Pitch Black Heist to a relative extent. I particularly appreciated the grounded tone and authentic dialogue that the film had to offer. However, I believe that the plot itself was relatively disengaging until the final scene and also found the characters to be relatively uninteresting. The film demonstrated to me how shooting in complete darkness can both save time for the filmmaker and force the viewer to direct their attention exclusively on the soundscape.

Production Diary: La Jetée (Chris Marker, 1962)

Le Jetée (Chris Marker, 1962) is a 28-minute French science fiction short film. Made up almost entirely from still images, the film tells the story of a dystopian experiment involving time travel after the events of a nuclear war. Within the film, a man is assigned to delve into his past, honing in on a vague memory of a woman the protagonist briefly spotted on a jetty, before witnessing an ambiguously horrific incident. Romantic chemistry develops between the man and the woman during his time in the past, after which he is sent into the future to receive a power unit that should be used to revitalise his present-day society. After the mission is complete, the man attempts to return to the past in an attempt to locate the woman again, before realising that the horrific event he witnessed as a child was in fact his own death.

As previously mentioned, the film is constructed almost entirely from optically printed photos, sequenced together as a photo montage. Alongside this, the only dialogue heard throughout the film is voice-over narration from the protagonist, allowing the viewer to empathise with his experiences and provide expository information. The non-diegetic composed score featured throughout the film is rhythmically sequenced, an example being when the score matches a dissolve effect. Marker’s apt use of non-diegetic sound further conveys a sense of movement throughout the film that is not present on-screen.

Due to the photomontage style of filmmaking employed by Marker, the editing of the film is profoundly stylistic and further supplements the eerie dystopian setting of the film. Marker’s implementation of cut-ins and fade-outs throughout illustrates a sense of unease and uncertainty, enhancing the sci-fi genre that the film adheres to. The film’s twist ending is equally shocking and satisfying, offering a palatable resolution to the narrative.

Personally, I enjoyed Le Jetée for the unique manner of storytelling it offered, and was enamoured by the unsettling dystopia of a post WW3 scenario. The black and white film stock utilised by Marker throughout the film further enhances the unsettling atmosphere created. The film demonstrated to me how still images can be used as an effective means of storytelling.

*The unnamed protagonist delving into his past*

Production Diary: The Grandmother (David Lynch, 1970)

The Grandmother (David Lynch, 1970) is 33-minute short film, being one of the very first films by visionary director David Lynch. Typical of Lynch’s work, the film is highly abstract and expressive throughout the portrayal of its narrative, depicting the struggles of a young boy living in an abusive household. Utilising a combination of live action and animation produced by Lynch himself, the boy is displayed ‘growing’ a grandmother from a mysterious pack of seeds he finds.

Throughout the film, Lynch employs a wide variety of techniques in order to create a chillingly eerie experience. The setting is highly minimalistic, merely depicting bedrooms and a dining room that exist in an abyss-like realm. Lynch implements the use of high contrast lighting, which works in tandem with the makeup applied to both the boy and the grandmother – the two characters appear to be reminiscent of a ghost through the use of pale makeup.

*Pale makeup is applied to both the boy and the grandmother*

Other uses of mise-en-scène include the strangely placed and conveniently labelled bag of seeds, alongside the cocoon-like plant from which the grandmother is born – permeating a sense of uncanny hyperbole. The soundscape is mostly non-diegetic, with the use of dissonant screeches and peculiar booming ambience utilised throughout to build atmosphere. The only diegetic sound heard throughout the film is the unintelligible screams of the parents towards their son.

Another highly expressive element of the film is the editing, which strikingly appears to be sequenced frame-by-frame at specific points in the film. Alongside the stilted one dimensional performances by each actor, this creates an extremely unnerving sense of dread throughout the film.

Personally, I relatively enjoyed The Grandmother for what it had to offer: a highly experimental experience that instils an acute sense of unease in the viewer. It is clear that this is the work of a young, untamed David Lynch. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of highly expressive and exaggerated mise-en-scène, used to elicit a particular meaning.

Production Diary: Curfew (Shawn Christensen, 2012)

Curfew (Shawn Christensen, 2012) is an Oscar-winning 19-minute short film about a suicidal man, Richie, who is asked by his estranged sister to look after his niece, Sophia, for the evening. Over the course of the film, the bond between the two characters grows and develops in many interesting ways. We learn that the reason that Richie has not seen Sophia since she was a baby is due to the fact that he dropped her on her head whilst taking care of her, leading to an important moment of development between the pair. After the day is over, Richie drops Sophia off at his sister’s house and returns home to commit suicide. However, the film ends with Richie being interrupted by another phone call from his sister on much nicer terms, requesting him once again to look after Sophia.

The film priorities narrative and character above all us, with Christensen utilising a simple three-act structure as well as a linear narrative throughout the film. The film could be classified under the ‘drama’ genre, meaning it doesn’t not have to conform to any particular conventions. The narrative could be argued as cyclical due to the film being bookended with scenes of Richie committing suicide in the bath. Despite this, Christensen also manages to successfully create an aesthetically pleasing experience, utilising the key elements of film form throughout.

For example, the film aptly incorporates colour in symbolically meaningful ways. Red is used as a symbol of Richie’s suicide, and can be seen within the bloodstained bath as well as the phone from which he receives the call from his sister. Conversely, blue is prominently displayed in the bowling alley scene with Sophia which suggests that both characters feel safe and have trust in one another. A shallow depth of field and artificial lighting both accentuate the dreamlike sense of wonder the pair experiences in each other’s presence. The film also features a particularly standout dance sequence that is in fact merely a hallucination of Richie’s mind. Throughout this, Christensen employs the use of a spinning camera, displaying Richie’s hallucinatory state of mind as well as a crab shot to follow Sophia dancing down the bowling alley. Christensen’s use of unorthodox techniques sets the scene apart from the rest of the film, alongside the use of a particularly dreamy composed score written by himself.

Christensen’s use of mise-en-scène throughout the film is also worthy of acclaim. Concerning costume design, Richie’s extremely rugged and dishevelled appearance starkly juxtaposes that of Sophia, who is warmly wrapped up in a large coat and wears a woolly hat. The contrast between the pair’s appearances reinforces the different backgrounds that the two originate from, and is an example of visual storytelling featured throughout the film. Richie is also unshaven and is often seen with a cigarette, further displaying his rough way of life.

One of the final shots of the film perfectly encapsulates Richie’s conflicted state of mind. He is filmed from an upside-down mid-closeup, displaying his defeated and hopeless expression. The red phone handset is also displayed in the frame, informing the viewer that an escape from the trauma is available to him, but at this moment, Richie is choosing to ignore it.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed Curfew from start to finish. Christensen incorporated the perfect blend of narrative, character development and aesthetic choices over the course of the film’s 19-minute duration. The performances by the duo are convincingly genuine and the film is also paced brilliantly. The film demonstrated to me the importance of colour palettes used in order to symbolise meaning.

Production Diary: High Maintenance (Phillip Van, 2006)

High Maintenance (Phillip Van, 2006) is a 9-minute short film which involves a woman who is unhappy in her current relationship. After a heated argument occurs between the couple over dinner, it is revealed that her husband is in fact a robot when the woman deactivates him by flicking a switch on the back of his neck. The woman then decides to exchange her current model for a new, more ‘desirable’ robot – she selects a new rock climber model that is customised to her preferences. After he arrives, he promptly begins to massage her before the final twist of the film is revealed: the woman is also in fact a robot herself.

Van utilises a number of interesting techniques in order to make the narrative of the film more engaging. The fact that the woman’s husband is a robot is foreshadowed through the woman’s remark that he is giving her “short, mechanical sex”, which she means literally. Intriguingly, Van also frequently cuts to a closeup of each character, highlighting the scrutiny that is occurring between the couple. The dialogue also seems to be purposefully stilted and robotic, which is yet another example of foreshadowing the final twist.

The film follows a linear structure and could be classified under the genre of sci-fi/romance. Van’s critiques the concept of relationships through the use of an eerily dystopian setting. The unrealistically long table at which the couple sit is representative of their cold and distant relationship. The colour grading is also particularly artificial – Van’s incorporation of industrial greys and blues is symbolic of the dystopian world presented throughout.

Personally, I enjoyed High Maintenance to a particularly ironic extent – I found the stilted acting relatively humorous. The 9-minute duration meant that the film did not overstay its welcome, and final twist of the film worked well enough, despite being somewhat predictable. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of a narrative twist in a short film.

Production Diary: A Girl’s Own Story (Jane Campion, 1984)

A Girl’s Own Story (Jane Campion, 1984) is a 27-minute Australian short film which explores the stage of female adolescence during the 1960s. Choosing to film in black and white, Campion displays the narrative by intercutting between multiple storylines. The film takes place in Australia, during the height of Beatlemania, in which two school friends – Pam and Stella – both kiss cutouts of Beatles members. Afterwards, one of the girls wears a mask of Ringo Starr before they practice kissing each other. This is intercut with scenes of another schoolgirl, Gloria, who is coerced by her brother into roleplaying as cats. In addition to this, the film also explores the relationship between Pam’s estranged parents, who use their daughters to communicate with each other.

A Girl’s Own Story immediately establishes the main ideas explored over the duration of the film. The opening scene involves a group of schoolgirls who observe an image of the male anatomy, which is displayed to the viewer through the use of a glance object. This introduces the viewer to the themes of sex and adolescence which are explored throughout. Campion’s decision to film in black and white with a 4:3 aspect ratio aptly reflects the aesthetic of the time period. This is further reinforced through Campion’s carefully selected mise-en-scène – particularly the costume design of the traditional schoolgirl uniform.

Voiceover is also used sparingly throughout the film, allowing the viewer to delve deeper into the minds of the three protagonists. Campion also interestingly chooses to conclude the film with a song that is sung by our three main characters: Pam, Gloria and Stella. Through this, the three girls are able to express their adolescent inner turmoil that is portrayed over the course of the film.

Personally, I did not receive much enjoyment from A Girl’s Own Story and found myself particularly disengaged from the events portrayed onscreen. The characters and themes of the film did not resonate with me, and I found the choice to conclude the film with a song to be somewhat schmaltzy. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of parallel narratives throughout a short film.

*The three protagonists singing during the final scene*

Production Diary: Elephant (Alan Clarke, 1989)

Elephant (Alan Clarke, 1989) is a 39-minute short film set in Northern Ireland, depicting 18 brutal murders during The Troubles. Partly based on authentic police reports, the film contains little to no dialogue and we learn nothing about each of the eighteen gunmen or victims. Each murder is carried out calmly and casually, and the motive behind each is never disclosed – we can only surmise that the murders are religiously motivated, reflecting the violent conflict occurring in Northern Ireland during this period.

*One of eighteen murders portrayed throughout the film*

Through a variety of techniques, the film creates an eerily chilling atmosphere. It is shot with 16mm film, with the majority of the film being shot with a Steadicam. This, alongside an abundance of Kubrick-esque tracking shots, make the film feel almost like an observational documentary of sorts. Each of the eighteen killings are displayed in a neutral and ‘formulaic’ manner, to the point where the viewer almost feels desensitised to the horrific events being portrayed.

An essential technique employed by Clarke throughout the film is a prolonged static mid-closeup of the lifeless corpse after each murder is committed. This effectively instills a sense of acute trepidation in the viewer, forcing them to possess empathy towards the innocent victim. The film does not conform to any particular genre conventions, and merely attempts to reflect the events of The Troubles.

Although I didn’t particularly receive much enjoyment from Elephant, I appreciated the bleak social commentary of The Troubles that it had to offer. The film also demonstrated to me the effectiveness of prolonged static shots in the way of creating dramatic effect.

Production Diary: The Wrong Trousers (Nick Park, 1993)

The Wrong Trousers (Nick Park, 1993) is a 29-minute stop-motion animated short film which features the iconic duo Wallace and Gromit. The film’s plot entails Wallace letting out a room to a nefarious penguin, who attempts to use Wallace’s new invention, the ‘Techno-Trousers’ in order to steal a diamond from the city museum. Due to this being the second short film in which Wallace and Gromit feature, the film is able to waste no time in introducing the eccentric duo to the viewer. Utilising a linear three act structure and conforming to the conventions of the comedy/action genre, Park successfully creates a heartwarmingly enjoyable short film.

*The iconic animated duo, Wallace and Gromit*

The key to Wallace and Gromit’s success is the synergistic dichotomy between the duo. Loosely based on Park’s father, Wallace is a humble, good-natured inventor, whereas Gromit is depicted as much more mature, thoughtful and intelligent despite being unable to speak. Through this, the scene where Gromit leaves Wallace after the penguin occupies his room instills a dramatic emotional response in the viewer, exacerbated by a particularly mournful non-diegetic score.

Park creates tension throughout the film using a variety of closeup tracking shots in tandem with the aforementioned orchestral score. For example, during the heist scene, the penguin accidentally drops the diamond. To create tension, Park cuts between a closeup of the diamond and a closeup of the penguin’s alarmed expression, during which the orchestra plays stab chords at strikingly forte dynamics which immediately focuses the viewer’s attention. The POV shot of the penguin edging closer towards Gromit in the box is also particularly tense, due to the filmmaker’s choice to make the penguin’s diegetic footsteps the only sound discernible in the mix.

The style of animation featured throughout the film is also of particular importance. Aardman’s signature ‘clay-mation’ style of stop-motion filmmaking means that each frame of the film is precisely constructed. Due to this, Park is essentially allowed total creative freedom in terms of mise-en-scène – the discernibly metallic texture of the ‘Techno-Trousers’ juxtaposes every other object in the film, reinforcing the fact that it is highly advanced technology. The clay models also allow for Gromit to communicate entirely through gesture and body language.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Wrong Trousers and possess a bountiful amount of nostalgia for the film. Park’s unique style of animation alongside meaningful character and plot development result in a highly enjoyable short film experience. In my opinion, the film exceeds the likes of When the Day Breaks in terms of what an animated short is able to achieve. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of an appropriate score in building atmosphere and tension.

Production Diary: When the Day Breaks (Wendy Tilby and Amanda Forbis, 1999)

When the Day Breaks (Wendy Tilby and Amanda Forbis, 1999) is a 9-minute Canadian short film which depicts the daily lives of two anthropomorphic characters, a rooster and a pig. The two share a brief interaction after the pig accidentally causes a lemon to drop out of the rooster’s shopping, leading to a dramatic car accident.

The main attraction to be found within the film is, without a doubt, the animation style. Utilising pencil and paint on photocopies, the filmmakers achieve a distinctive textured style of animation – akin to lithography. Each frame is hand-drawn and is sequenced in stop motion, creating a unique visual spectacle. The filmmakers aptly blend the familiar monotony of everyday life, with a distinctive and evocative aesthetic to form an intriguing viewing experience. The medium of animation allows the film to display objects with incredible detail. At one point, we are presented with the inner-workings of an iron in which the many wires are displayed to us.

During the awkward exchange between the pair, the viewer is able to accurately read the emotion of both characters. Despite the lack of dialogue and discernible human features, annoyance can be clearly surmised in the rooster and embarrassment in the pig respectively, thanks to Tilby and Forbis’ meticulous attention to detail. After the rooster is hit by the car, the smashed groceries on the pavement that are displayed to us are perhaps symbolic of the spontaneous unpredictability that life holds and that nothing lasts forever.

Although I did enjoy the unique visual elements of When the Day Breaks, I found that the core issue that the film suffered from is style over substance. The plot of the film could be described as minimalist at best and serves merely as a display for the animation style, which I personally found somewhat nauseating. The film demonstrated to me the effect that a striking visual spectacle can have on the viewer.

Production Diary: Meshes of the Afternoon (Maya Daren and Alexandr Hackenschmied, 1943)

Meshes of the Afternoon is a 14-minute experimental short film directed by and starring Maya Daren and Alexandr Hackenschmied, a husband and wife duo. The film is highly avant-garde in nature, displaying ambiguous and psychologically stimulating symbols through mise-en-scène, including: flowers, keys, knives and mirrors. The events of the seemingly circular narrative are ultimately left up to the viewer’s own personal interpretation, creating a wholly unique experience.

*The grim reaper*–*esque figure seen throughout the film holding a flower*

The film uses a wide variety of visually intriguing editing techniques in order to make the film highly enigmatic throughout. Daren and Hackenschmied manipulate the viewer’s perception of reality and location through the use of match on action. The filmmakers also utilise the early limitations of film in a way that only helps the film flourish. The dark gaps between each frame are accentuated throughout the film, particularly during the staircase scene – cuts of the protagonist are displayed standing at different positions on the stairs, with no apparent movement in between. Through this, the filmmakers have truly demolished all sense of a coherent time and space.

Personally, I really enjoyed Meshes of the Afternoon and was highly engaged in the ambiguous narrative and was fascinated by eerie atmosphere that the film established. The film demonstrated to me that simple editing techniques can be used in an array of creative ways to shape how meaning is conveyed.

Production Diary: Connect (Samuel Abrahams, 2010)

Connect (Samuel Abrahams, 2010) is a 5-minute short film which follows a woman on a bus experiencing a series of imaginary events as she lets her mind run wild whilst immersing herself in music. After daydreaming a man shooting an old woman in order to take her seat, our protagonist forms a brief but powerful connection with another passenger on the bus – holding hands for a brief, but intimate moment. Afterwards, the man gets off the bus and the woman imagines the passengers dancing.

Throughout its extremely short runtime, the film uses a number of interesting techniques in order to convey its message to the viewer. Firstly, blocking and framing is cleverly used in the opening scene of the film as the woman boards the bus – a centrally-framed closeup of the woman is held as a barrage of people storm onto the bus. The other passengers are filmed with a shallow depth of field, creating a sense of claustrophobia.

Colour grading is used to establish a dusk urban setting, with the bus’s artificial lighting representing the harsh way of life the woman is struggling through. During the closeup of the two hands touching, a glimmer of light briefly passes by the lens of the camera – displaying that this is a moment that the two characters will greatly cherish.

*The flicker of light as the ‘connection’* *occurs*

Overall, I enjoyed Connect a considerable amount for what it offered, but I believe that the film’s duration was much too short for it to tell a meaningful plot or convey any particular theme. The film demonstrated to me the effect that closeups and depth of field can have on the viewer.

Production Diary: Stutterer (Benjamin Cleary, 2015)

Stutterer (Benjamin Cleary, 2015) is a 12-minute short film which details the struggles of Greenwood, a reclusive typographer who suffers from a stutter. After talking to a girl for six months over Facebook, she finally decides to invite him to meet in real life as she is visiting London. The film details Greenwood’s anxiety as he attempts to muster up the courage to meet her, whilst also demonstrating the day-to-day social struggles he faces throughout his life.

The viewer is placed deep within Greenwood’s conflicted inner turmoil through the use of thought narration, instilling a strong sense of empathy in the viewer towards the protagonist. This is established immediately through the opening scene of the film, in which Greenwood’s stutter prevents him from discussing his bill over the phone. Cleary uses many centralised closeups of Greenwood to reinforce his position as the protagonist, as well as to display the plaster on his nose after he is involved in a violent conflict. Most of the film’s runtime is dedicated to developing Greenwood’s character, leading to a highly satisfying resolution.

The film follows the typical three act structure and additionally conforms to the typical conventions of a romantic drama. Stutterer prioritises narrative and character development above all else, utilising soft lighting and cinematography throughout. Cleary also incorporates elements of subtle visual storytelling into the film through mise-en-scène, displaying an array of books in Greenwood’s room, including sign language textbooks – reinforcing his introverted and secluded way of life.

Personally, I really enjoyed Stutterer and appreciated the simple but effective story it managed to tell brilliantly in a matter of 12 minutes. Embracing the conventions of the genre, the film aptly conveys themes of isolation and overcoming hardships throughout. The film demonstrated to me the importance of a cohesive three act structure and character development within the narrative of a short film.

Production Diary: About a Girl (Brian Percival, 2001)

About a Girl (Brian Percival, 2001) is a 9-minute short film which follows a girl recounting her childhood as she walks the streets of a grey, industrial Manchester. The nameless girl informs the viewer of her disdainful upbringing in the city, involving the relationship between herself and her divorced parents. We also learn of the girl’s aspirations of forming a pop group with her friends. The film ends with a dramatic shock twist when the girl reveals that she has become “dead good at hiding things” from her mother and tosses the bag she had been carrying the into the river, which is revealed to contain a dead baby.

*The opening shot of the film, displaying a silhouette of our protagonist*

The film utilises a variety of techniques in order to convey a sense of gritty authenticity to the viewer. The girl’s monologues are interspersed with small snippets of her partaking in the current anecdote she is recalling, providing the viewer with a clear image of her life. The girl also looks straight into the camera as it follows her from the front, addressing the viewer directly and breaking the 4th wall – forming a deeper connection between the girl and the audience. The urban streets are polluted and litter-filled, with monotone colour grading applied to accentuate the poor environment the girl lives in. After the burden of the dead baby is lifted from the girl at the end of the film, a noticeably vibrant colour grading is applied – demonstrating that a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

In my opinion, the film’s twist purely serves as a brief ‘shock value’ moment, instilling a visceral reaction within the viewer. There is little to no example of foreshadowing prior to the reveal, perhaps due to the short run time of the film. I did not receive much fulfilment after watching About a Girl, but can appreciate the social realism it portrayed throughout. The film demonstrated to me the effect that a surprising twist can have on the viewer.

Production Diary: Wasp (Andrea Arnold, 2003)

Wasp (Andrea Arnold, 2003) is a 26-minute short film about a single mother who prioritises her love life with an old contact over the safety and care of her four young children. Winning the 2004 Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film, Wasp is a poignant social commentary on life within poverty-stricken council estates and the struggles of being a single parent.

Cinematography is used throughout the film as a subtle means of visual storytelling. Every shot of the film is extremely gritty and authentic – Arnold incorporates an array of uncomfortable closeups throughout, purposefully including obstructive objects within the frame. Through this, a sense of claustrophobia is created, especially during the pub scenes – mirroring Zoe’s hectic lifestyle. In addition to this, the film makes apt use of handheld cameras throughout, which instills further disorientation within the viewer.,

The film is entirely shot on location – a suburban council estate in Dartford – and natural lighting is incorporated throughout to add a further layer of realism to the film. Parallel editing is also utilised by Arnold to display Zoe and Dave in the pub together, while her four hungry children scavenge the streets for food. The performances by each actor, including the children, are highly authentic and believable.

I enjoyed Wasp and was moved by the bleak social realism it offered – it was clearly inspired by Arnold’s life experiences. The film also demonstrated to me the disorienting effect an array of handheld shots can have on the viewer.

Production Diary: The Gunfighter (Eric Kissack, 2014)

The Gunfighter (Eric Kissack, 2014) is a 9-minute short film of a comedy/Western genre. The film revolves around a subversive twist of a stereotypical Western in which the narrator of the film can be heard by each of the characters. The film builds upon this gag in many creative ways, as we soon learn that the narrator is in fact omniscient and knows many humiliating details about each of the characters. The score later becomes diegetic, further breaking the fourth wall in a creative manner. The film results in a traditional Mexican standoff initiated by the narrator.

*The titular Gunfighter as he hears the narrator for the first time*

Kissack aptly utilises this gag in order to satirise the tropes of a stereotypical Western. He establishes the archetype of this widely overdone genre by carefully selecting an appropriately cliché score, as well as mise-en-scène (including the interior of the saloon and costume design) reminiscent of the genre. Kissack additionally satirises the racist attitudes typically depicted within the Western genre, due to the saloon having a black bartender who is appears to be fully accepted by the characters, which is a detail that the narrator comments on.

The omniscient narrator joke is introduced within the first minute of the film, which demonstrates the concise and pacy nature of the film. Due to this short duration, the one and only gag does not overstay its welcome and the film is over just as the joke becomes old. The final standoff is yet another ridicule of typical Western flicks.

I enjoyed The Gunfighter a considerable amount and it has demonstrated to me how a concise and enjoyable story can be told in a very short amount of time. I did, however, believe that the film’s reliance on the single joke created a very one-dimensional tone.

Production Diary: Component 3 Overview

The third component of the A-Level Film Studies course is a production-based unit worth 30% of the qualification. This entails an entirely independent filmmaking project, involving the creation of a short film with a duration between four and five minutes. The coursework process will be entirely documented in a series of blog posts referred to as the Production Diary, this post being the first of many. The short film must align with one of the four briefs established by the exam board, listed below:

A narrative which has a distinct genre.
A narrative which has parallel stories.
A non-linear narrative.
A narrator.

The creative process of the making of the short film can be clearly divided into six ‘elements’ of production:

Element 1 – Research
Element 2 – Pre-production
Element 3 – Production
Element 4 – Post-production
Element 5 – Evaluative Analysis
Element 6 – Submission

Research involves the viewing of the Eduqas Short Film Collection, which consists of 18 films that will be viewed in class and will each receive a respective blog post afterwards. During the Evaluative Analysis process, at least three of the 18 films must be credited for imbuing creative inspiration within your own short film.

Pre-production is a lengthy process which occurs after a clear, finalised idea of what the short film will entail has been reached. The mandatory aspects of the pre-production process are listed in bold:

Production Idea
Treatment (written in detailed prose, using film-specific language)
Pitch (filmed verbal delivery of the treatment, followed by discussion)
Pitch Reflections (subsequent thoughts, audience response, teacher feedback, etc.)
Action points and preparation possibilities
Research into screenplay conventions
Research into storyboarding conventions
Research into lighting
Research into equipment – cameras, lenses, etc.
Location scout
Casting
Finalised screenplay, with evidence of drafts and versions
Filmed rehearsals
Filmed screenplay read-through
Storyboards
Practice shots
Wardrobe and prop acquisition
Makeup
Special effects
Soundtrack research

Production involves the entire filming process of the film and all aspects of camerawork and editing are assessed. A diverse range of camera shots and editing techniques are encouraged within the production, through the application of the key elements of film form. Performance skills are not assessed.

Post-production is another fairly lengthy process which has the potential to impact the final mark significantly. Through the process of frequent screenings in order to receive invaluable feedback, this process will involve reshoots and rewrites in order to improve the film in the best way possible. New cuts of the film will be edited in LumaFusion.

Evaluative Analysis involves a 1600-1800 word evaluation of the production. It is here that the Eduqas Short Film Collection will be referenced. The evaluative analysis will include:

The narrative structure of the short film – an analysis of how the narrative features and dramatic qualities of all short films studied are constructed – highlighting key ideas which informed our own production.
Cinematic influences – an analysis of how audio/visual elements of other professionally produced films or screenplays – including short films -influenced our own short film.
How our film creates meaning and effect – an analysis of how our production creates meaning and generates responses for the spectator in relation to other professional short films – including at least one of the Eduqas Short Film Collection.

Submission is the final element of the creative process, involving the handing in of three specific documents:

A cover sheet, completed with the class teacher.
The final short film itself, uploaded as a .mp4 file.
The evaluative analysis document, uploaded to the shared OneDrive folder.

Filibustering Keaton: Cops

Throughout Cops (1922), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.

Realist

The film is shot on location, depicting the bustling streets of Los Angeles near the film studio.
The costume design seen throughout is an accurate representation of the time period, being evocative of the 1920s.
The film was produced during the proceedings of Fatty Arbuckle’s rape-and-murder trial. Being a silent star of the 1910s who brought Keaton into the limelight, it was clear that Keaton certainly had this on his mind as the film developed. Throughout the film, his character never comes out on top (despite his good intentions), police are presented in an extremely negative light, he does not ‘get the girl’ and his death is implied through the end card. This illustrates a sense of hopelessness over the duration of the film.
The opening long take of Keaton behind bars is a static wide shot, allowing the viewer to freely direct their attention between Keaton and Virginia Fox. Keaton is displayed as being ‘locked out’ from the upper class.
Keaton has a brief encounter with a man on the side of the road pretending to be kicked out by his wife, which could be considered a realist scenario.
Keaton uses a long take to display the two characters loading the furniture onto the carriage, utilising deep focus so that the viewer is able to direct their attention between both characters.
Keaton’s insolent behaviour towards the policeman depicted throughout the film is representative of America’s disrespectful attitude towards authority.
‘Gland larceny’ is briefly referenced when Keaton is seen taking his horse to a goat gland specialist. During the year of release, at least three men in America fell victim to testicle theft. Here, Keaton is referencing a real event that audiences would’ve been aware of in a light-hearted manner.
A multitude of long take wide shots display an overwhelming number of policeman, allowing the viewer to be in awe of the intimidating force.
Keaton smokes a cigarette as he rides into the police procession, demonstrating the popularity of tobacco in America.
The seesaw gag is filmed with a long take long shot with deep focus, allowing us to focus on both the seesaw in the foreground and the policemen in the background.
As previously mentioned, the ending of Cops is much darker in tone and, arguably more realist too. Keaton is rejected by Fox and death is implied through the end card.

*The titular ‘cops’ are filmed with a static long take*

Expressive

The alliterative opening intertitle (“love laughs at locksmiths”) is accompanied by an expressive illustration of Cupid shooting a lock. Houdini’s quote naturally transitions into the opening scene of the film, establishing the premise.
The opening shot of the film is particularly interesting, as Keaton’s clever framing allows the audience to believe that he is physically trapped behind bars, foreshadowing the later events. In reality, Keaton’s character is metaphorically ‘locked out’ from his girlfriends’s family, who represents the upper class.
A brief but hyperbolic slapstick exchange involving a wallet is unrealistic, but creates humour.
A closeup of the man sitting on the curb displays his highly exaggerated, superficial expression. This example of the Kuleshov Effect informs us of his devious intentions.
A fade to black signifies the passage of time, after which the furniture is loaded onto the carriage.
As the vase is unable to fit in the suitcase, Keaton’s clumsiness leads a piece breaking off in order for it to fit. This expertly sets up the next gag of the other vase falling off the carriage, creating a comical punchline.
Keaton uses a boxing glove to serve as a makeshift indicator, as to not be bitten by a dog. This exaggerated mise-en-scène creates absurdist comedy. Keaton proceeds to punch a policeman with the same glove, demonstrating slapstick humour.
An iris closeup of the Goat Gland Specialist sign focuses our attention towards the absurdly comical service.
An intertitle contextualises the ensuing events of the police parade for the viewer.
Parallel editing is incorporated between Keaton on his horse and the police parade, manipulating the viewer into believing that the events are occurring simultaneously .
Keaton continues to use expressive mise-en-scène through the use of the bomb prop which is a highly stereotypical depiction of an explosive. Through a closeup of the bomb, the viewer’s emotions are manipulated as they anticipate the bomb’s explosion.
As the chase between Keaton and the policeman ensues, fast motion is employed by Keaton in order to hyperbolise the situation for comedic effect. His use of elaborate choreography and blocking accentuates the ambitious set piece. The sheer amount of homogenous policemen in once place heightens the effect of the gag.
The pace of editing quickens as the events of the chase become increasingly hectic.
The water that spurts from the fire hydrant is comically vigorous and highly exaggerated.
Keaton is able to contort his body into a small chest effortlessly which heightens the absurdity of the situation.
The elaborate seesaw gag plays with balance, symmetry and framing in order to provide a daring visual spectacle. Keaton proceeds to fly through the air, further reinforcing the absurdity of the situation.
Keaton’s small figure starkly juxtaposes the overwhelming congregation of policemen as he is chased through the streets. Keaton’s athleticism is reinforced as he slides under one of the policemen’s legs.
The final shot of the film depicts a gravestone, unrealistically emblazoned with ‘THE END’. Keaton’s pork pie hat is propped up against it, signifying his apparent death at the end of the film.

*Seesaw gag plays with symmetry and balance, but is also filmed with a static wide shot and deep focus*

Filibustering Keaton: The High Sign

Throughout The High Sign (1921), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.

Realist

The film is shot on location, depicting the populous streets of LA.
The costume design is also authentic, being evocative of the 1920s.
Keaton’s character is kicked off the train – his train-hopping demonstrates a realist issue in society. Paupers snuck onto trains as a mode of transportation in order to seek work in the city.
The merry-go-round seen within the film was a popular attraction during the time period.
The newspaper featured within the film represents the fact that it was the most common form of media during the time period. Furthermore, the advert in the paper is symbolic of nationwide employment across the country.
Keaton’s disrespectful behaviour towards the policeman is demonstrative of America’s negative attitude towards authority. The gag is also shot with a long take using deep focus, so that the viewer is able to freely focus upon the scene as they see fit.
The shooting gallery, a key location within the film, informs us that they were relatively common attractions found throughout the Jazz Age of America.
The primary antagonistic force of the film are the Blinking Buzzards. This comical gang is a representation of the presence of organised crime throughout 1920s America. The planned assassination of August Nickelnurser epitomises the many assassinations carried out which were primarily driven by political gain. This lawless society was established due to many ex-soldiers living a life of violence and corruption after the events of WW1, hyperbolised by the character of Tiny Tim within the film.
Within the films, characters can be seen drinking alcohol from flasks which demonstrates the effects of the Prohibition Era (1920).
A long take wide shot of August and Sybil introducing themselves to Keaton is used, allowing the viewer to freely observe each character.
The butler in August’s house is representative of the divide between social class that existed during the time period.
The four rooms of the funhouse are filmed with a static wide shot. The deep focus allows the viewer to focus upon each of the four rooms separately.

Expressive

The opening intertitle details the origins of Keaton’s character with the language “Nowhere, Anywhere, Somewhere”, which evokes a sense of ambiguity.
Keaton falls of the freight train in unrealistic and exaggerated manner.
The comically large newspaper gag is very surrealist and heightens the comedic value of the scene. The ensuing closeup of the paper also introduces us to Tiny Tim.
The banana gag is cartoonish and unrealistic – Keaton use of absurd expression manipulates the viewer’s emotions.
Keaton’s shooting of the bottles is hyperbolically inaccurate, shattering the illusion of reality. Keaton further accentuates the the gag by shooting a seagull out of the sky, which is achieved through the employment of special effects.
Fast motion is utilised as the man runs away to create a sense of cartoonish light-heartedness.
A closeup of the dentist sign allows the viewer to read the ‘Dr Pullem’ sign, an example of a comical pun.
Tiny Tim turns out to be very large, dwarfing Keaton in the frame. This subversion of the viewer’s expectations creates a comical realisation. Tim also wears dark makeup, this example of mise-en-scène foreshadows his antagonistic behaviour revealed later in the film.
An intertitle introduces us to the Blinking Buzzards through the use of absurdly hyperbolic alliteration. (Brutal bungalow of Blinking Buzzards, a bold bad bunch etc.)
Keaton employs parallel editing between his character in the shooting gallery and the Buzzards in their lair, contextualising the simultaneously occurring events to the viewer’s.
The ransom letter delivered to August is displayed with a closeup using vignette. This, alongside appropriate reading time, manipulates the viewer into reading the letter.
The iconic Blinking Buzzard hand sign featured throughout the film endearingly mocks stereotypical gang signs through Keaton’s use of choreography.
Parallel editing is employed between Keaton in the shooting gallery, the dog ringing the bell and Tiny Tim’s reaction as to fully contextualise the gag for the viewer.
Keaton briefly breaks the fourth wall by directly looking at the camera as he realises he has become a double agent, this is a knowing acknowledgement of the audience.
Keaton hangs his hat onto the wall by manifesting a peg by painting one onto the wall. Due to the gag being so surrealist and physically impossible to achieve in reality, comedy is instilled within the viewer. This can also be seen within a similar scene, in which Keaton smokes a pipe that appears to be part of a painted backdrop at the shooting gallery.
A fade to black signifies the passage of time between events.
The prior banana gag makes a reappearance as the policeman attempts to use his gun on Tiny Tim, creating fulfilling humour. As the peel is dropped on the floor, no one slips over it which subverts the viewer’s expectations of a classic cliché.
August’s house is full of elaborate contraptions and secret getaways. Including the likes of revolving wall panels, trapdoors and hidden corridors, this expressive mise-en-scène lends itself to Keaton’s surrealist and abstract comedy.
A classic Keaton chase sequence ensues within the house, demonstrating his daring athleticism and establishing comical slapstick humour.
A shot using vignette plays with the viewer’s perspective, the viewer is able to view both rooms simultaneously in order for the joke to be told most effectively.
One of the gang members’ head becomes stuck in the door, reinforcing the absurdist nature of the film.
The final scene of the film is subversive as the viewer does not know which side Keaton is on until the very last second.

Filibustering Keaton: The Scarecrow

Throughout The Scarecrow (1920), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.

Realist

The costume design used throughout is an accurate representation of 1920s America.
A multitude of commonly-found domestic appliances exist within the house, including: a record player, oven and a mirror.
One of the intertitles remarks upon women getting the vote in 1919, a recently occurring significant historical event at the time of release.
Coin operated gas meters were frequently found within apartment buildings, depicting a realist display of working class living standards.
As Keaton sets the table, a static long shot with deep focus captures the scene, providing an unbiased, objective view of the room. The viewer is able to freely view the frame.
The elaborate dual-function contraptions found within the house reference the illustrations of Rube Goldberg, which were popularised during the timeframe of release.
Both of the main characters are farmers, representing the poverty-stricken society of the time period. The laborious manual labour the characters must endure is juxtaposed by the Rube Goldberg machinery.
Both characters also wish to impress the same girl, demonstrating the patriarchal society of the time period, in addition to the duty held by many to settle down and start a family.
The film is shot on location, depicting a realist rural setting.
The chase sequence is filmed with a static long shot with deep focus, allowing the viewer to ‘cut with their eyes’.
The wild dog that appears within the film were commonly found within the 1920s rural setting depicted throughout the film. In addition, Keaton’s character fears the possibility of the dog being rabid – rabies being a commonly occurring disease within dogs during this time.
The titular scarecrow gag involves a commonly found decoy throughout American farmsteads with alcohol in its pocket. This is perhaps symbolic of the initiation of the Prohibition Era, which came into effect during the year of release (1920).
During the kicking gag, the camera remains static. This allows the viewer to freely focus upon each of the three actors as they see fit.

*An unbiased, objective view of the room achieved by using deep focus*

Expressive

The opening intertitle establishes the rural setting by illustratively describing the scene (“slowly and majestically the sun steals gradually over the hill-tops”) evoking a sense of romanticised pastoral imagery of the 1920s.
The opening wide shot of the sunrise is shot with fast motion, Keaton’s use of hyperbolic mise-en-scène symbolically illustrates the dawn of a new day.
A number of iris shots are utilised throughout the film, each directing the viewer’s attention towards a particular character or object.
Keaton’s loose tooth is conveyed to the viewer by an exaggerated head bandage, additionally setting up the slapstick door gag. Keaton alternates between wide shots and reactionary closeups as to direct the viewer’s attention towards the punchline of a joke.
The Rube Goldberg-inspired contraptions (including the fence prop) found within the house are extremely hyperbolic and unrealistic. These contraptions are used to create a sequence of surrealist gags, which are reminiscent of vaudeville theatre.
During the meal between Keaton and Roberts, the pair’s movements are highly choreographed in order to heighten the effect of the abstract gag.
The family of ducks bathing in the waste water is a highly unrealistic situation staged by Keaton in order to produce a comedic effect. This is also used to set up a later gag involving Keaton falling in the water in classic slapstick fashion.
An introductory closeup of Sybil’s character immediately focuses the viewer’s attention towards her.
The pace of editing quickens and fast motion is employed as the chase sequence ensues, manipulating the viewer’s emotions.
Roberts miraculously manages to survive the impact of being run over, this unrealistic scenario successfully creates comedy. He is later seen on comically hyperbolic crutches and immediately knocked over again, further accentuating the gag.
The scarecrow gag relies upon the viewer’s manipulated perspective in order to land. We are unable to see Keaton from the front, we therefore do not know he is the scarecrow. As the joke is repeated a second time, the viewer is in on the joke, creating a sense of comedic fulfilment.
Keaton demonstrates his daring athleticism by impressively walking through the river on his hands, juxtaposing Roberts’ comical fall.
The ‘accidental proposal’ is unrealistically successful, heightening the sheer absurdity of the scenario.
The fake horse gag further increases the sense of idiosyncrasy Keaton possesses.
The vicar just so happens to be conveniently standing on the side of the road, this unrealistic scenario further accentuates the expressive nonsensicality of the film.
The final iris shot centralises the viewer’s attention onto Keaton placing the makeshift wedding ring on Sybil’s finger.

*The marriage between the two characters is comical due to the extremely unrealistic situation in which they find themselves*

Filibustering Keaton: One Week

Throughout One Week (1920), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.

Realist

The film is shot on location, meaning it is an accurate representation of America in the 1920s.
Throughout the long shot of bride and groom walking down the steps, the camera remains in a static position. The viewer is not manipulated to direct their attention towards anything in particular.
The rice throwing exhibited at the wedding captures a genuine cultural tradition present within 1920s America.
Keaton’s character picks up a pair of shoes off the floor, demonstrating American paupers’ need for second hand items in a poverty-stricken time period.
The costume design is very authentic and is evocative of 1920s America.
During a three shot of Handy Hank, Keaton and Sybil the viewer isn’t encouraged to focus their attention upon a particular character.
During each of Keaton’s stunts, the camera remains in a static position and no closeups are used. The viewer’s attention is not manipulated.
Although Keaton’s stunts themselves are highly expressive, each are performed exactly as you view them by Keaton himself. No editing or special effects are used to accentuate them.
Keaton’s behaviour towards the policeman is representative of the negative attitude and distrust America possessed towards authority figures.
The appearance of a flat pack house as a plot device is a realist depiction of a social issue in America. A lack of affordable housing led to an increase in flat pack housing among those who could not afford pre-existing homes.
A realist presentation of stereotypical gender roles are – Keaton’s character performs the physically laborious task of building the house while Sybil’s character cooks and provides for him.
During the piano gag, a static long take long shot is utilised, which is a more realist manner of filmmaking.
As Keaton climbs the pole, his daring athleticism is demonstrated by a static long take.
The house was constructed on a turntable so that it could really spin during the storm sequence.
The train collision was filmed exactly as it appears to occur, establishing a sense of realism.
During the final shot, the streets of LA are displayed, informing us of the fact that Keaton filmed on location.

*Long take with deep focus – the viewer is able to direct their attention towards any of the characters*

Expressive

The film opens on a reverse iris shot, adding an initial aesthetic layer to the opening of the film. This expressive flair does not capture objective reality and sets the light-hearted tone present throughout the film.
Intertitles are used throughout the film as to provide the viewer with explicit information, which contextualises the the events occurring in ways that silent action cannot.
A description of the scene is provided by an intertitle (“such a sweet sound but such a sour echo). This expressive alliteration is used to create an evocative setting which the viewer is forced to accept.
A cinema showing of silent films is typically accompanied by a piano/organ, which stylistically informs the viewer of the current emotion of the scene.
Another iris shot is used to display the wedding bell, which manipulates the viewer into directing their attention towards it.
Keaton utilises a crossfade transition between the wedding bell shot and the married couple walking down the church steps. This example of manipulative editing demonstrates the connection between the two shots.
During the long shot of Keaton and Sybil walking down the steps, the two characters are centrally framed. Through this, the viewer’s attention is influenced as to where it will be directed.
The rice is pelted at the couple in an unrealistically comedic manner, Keaton additionally utilises fast motion to accentuate the exaggerated comical effect. Shoes are also thrown to the floor, which is another hyperbolic scenario.
We are introduced to Handy Hank through a closeup with a shallow depth-of-field. Due to this, the viewer’s attention is focused towards him as we view his cartoonishly exaggerated facial expression, depicting anger and jealousy.
The shot of the wedding letter uses a vignette, which focuses our attention in a stylistic manner. The viewer is encouraged to read the letter, as there is nothing else to look at on screen.
Each of Keaton’s stunts are centrally framed hyperbolised performance, which create an exciting set piece for the viewer. These daring acts highlight Keaton’s athleticism and daring bravery. For example, Keaton is conveniently standing in the perfect position for him to not be hit by the house as it falls, which is a reoccurring stunt throughout.
Keaton assaults the policeman, which expressively represents America’s disdain for authority.
Keaton’s use of slapstick humour throughout exaggerates each of the situations in a comedic manner.
Another iris shot isolates the delivery driver within the frame which focuses the viewer’s attention upon him.
As the flat pack house is delivered, it is conveniently positioned in the frame so that the viewer is encouraged to read the writing.
An iris shot closeup of the directions informs the viewer that it will be an important plot point.
The shot of the instructions uses vignette, focusing the viewer’s attention. Additionally, the text is left on screen for an appropriate amount of time in order for the viewer to read it.
The fade to black suggests the passage of time, demonstrating Keaton’s method of conveying information through editing.
The cartoonish gag of Keaton sitting on the beam is purely comedic and does not progress the plot. Cutting from a long shot to a closeup, the slapstick joke is conveyed in the most effective manner.
Parallel editing is utilised to contextualise what both Sybil and Keaton are doing separately (cooking and working on the house).
As Keaton falls from the roof, we cut to a long shot which demonstrates the fact that the camerawork is dictated by the course of the joke.
Each of the sets are examples of unrealistic mise-en-scène and are meticulously constructed in order to display a daring acrobatic gag. The behaviour of both the set and characters are abnormal within a realist scenario.
After the house is built, it is comically lopsided. The mise-en-scène is overly exaggerated in order to convey the fact that Keaton hasn’t built it properly. The abstract, surrealist architecture is also reminiscent of German Expressionism. The mise-en-scène continues to be hyperbolic as Keaton pulls down the light within the house.
Sybil’s character breaks the fourth wall by acknowledging the audience’s presence by directly looking at the camera. To further this, a mysterious hand covers the camera as she reaches out of the bath. This extremely creative form of censorship expressively conveys the scandalous gag.
The piano is comically light for one person and comically heavy for another.
A couple of iris shots are used to focus our attention, first towards Sybil and secondly to accentuate the gag involving the piano falling through the floor.
Each joke is told in a very episodic manner, the introduction of a new room typically signifies the beginning of a new joke.
The camera is positioned in the most effective place as to make the gag as successfully comedic as possible. For example, we cut to an exterior shot as Keaton opens the door to the house.
An absurdly comedic amount of people attempt to occupy a small table.
An iris shot focuses our attention upon Keaton holding an umbrella.
The spinning house gag is extremely surreal and this elaborate set allows Keaton to perform a multitude of daring stunts.
The pace of editing quickens as the pandemonium heightens, manipulating the viewer’s emotions during the sequence.
The action briskly pauses in order to tell a joke with an intertitle, briefly jarring the viewer.
The house set is altered after the storm in order to expressively demonstrate the severe damage it has taken over the course of the storm.
Parallel editing is used in order to inform the viewer of the train’s imminent arrival.
In order for the train gag to be successful, it relies on the viewer’s warped perspective. The camera is placed in a particular spot as to manipulate what the viewer can see. We are also denied seeing the approach of the second train for comedic effect.

*The house is reminiscent of German Expressionism*

André Bazin: The Realist vs. The Expressive

André Bazin (1918-1958) was a French film critic and theorist, known for writing in the film magazine ‘Cahiers du cinéma’ (Notebooks on Cinema) from 1951 until his death in 1958. Afterwards, a four volume anthology entitled ‘Qu’est-ce que le cinéma?’ (What is Cinema?) was published posthumously, a work that exhibited his theories of realist and expressive cinema. At its core, his main argument stated that realism is the most important function of cinema. He argued that filmmakers should not manipulate the viewer’s thoughts, feelings or attention but instead leave it up to the individual spectator’s interpretation. Opposing the film theory of the 1920s, Bazin called for objective reality, deep focus and a lack of montage to be conducted throughout filmmaking.

Bazin viewed cinema as an “idealistic phenomenon” first and foremost, sidelining its commercial and technical value. Categorising the early pioneers of film – such as the Lumiere brothers – as merely “industrialists”, he strongly believed that the idea preceded the invention and is thus superior to the technical means to achieve it. Bazin believed that a camera’s ability to capture a duplication of reality placed cinema above both paintings and photos as art forms.

Through this, Bazin believed that cinema’s true purpose was to depict an ‘objective reality’. Utilising the techniques mentioned above, alongside a ‘true continuity’ through the use of mise-en-scène, cinema’s true potential was achieved in Bazin’s eyes. However, Bazin also remarked upon the fact that, as with any art form, the filmmaker should carefully select what they display to the viewer. He did not simply believe that films should display a never-ending, uninterrupted depiction of reality,

“Every form of aesthetic must necessarily choose between what is worth preserving and what should be discarded, and what should not even be considered”
André Bazin, What is Cinema?

Another important idea found within Bazin’s writing is his theory of the ‘invisible director’. Despite believing cinema to be a fully realist art form, Bazin additionally heralded the concept of the auteur – championing the idea that each director should possess a recognisable visual flair within their films. This seemingly contradictory belief can be rebuked by Bazin’s statement on direction found below. Through this, the viewer is able to engage with a particular auteur’s vision in their own individual way, rather than having a specific meaning forced upon them.

“It is the director that brings the film to life and uses the film to express their thoughts and feelings about the subject matter as well as a worldview as an auteur. An auteur can use lighting, camerawork, staging and editing to add to their vision.”
André Bazin

Buster Keaton: The Silent Clown

Joseph Frank “Buster” Keaton (1895-1966) was an American comedy actor and filmmaker. Popularised during the Classical Era of Hollywood, Keaton specialised in directing and acting in his silent films. Keaton is known for his stoicism and deadpan expression (developed as part of his family vaudeville act ‘The Three Keatons’), while performing dangerously impressive slapstick stunts.

In 1919, Keaton set up ‘Buster Keaton Productions’ alongside film executive Joseph M. Schenk. Through this, he received complete creative freedom within each of his films. Collaborating with co-director Edward F. Cline, Keaton initially created a multitude of successful ‘two-reelers’. Alongside Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, Keaton created a numerous amount of silent films during this period, including the likes of One Week (1920), The High Sign (1921) and Cops (1922) which received wide critical acclaim.

Each of the films utilised an innumerable amount of visual gags within its storytelling, including: dangerously daring stunts, pan demonic chases, expressionistic gags and subtle critique of American society. The films were almost always shot on set in Los Angeles near the studio and Keaton often utilised long takes to illustrate a sense of realism within his films.

Expressionism can also be found within Keaton’s films, particularly through his use of surreal anti-realist devices – an example being the comically large newspaper in The High Sign. Keaton’s daring stunts and exaggerated body language could also considered to be a form of expressionism.

*The expressionist newspaper gag in The High Sign*

In wake of the success of Keaton’s short film success, he then moved onto to creating feature-length productions. The likes of Sherlock Jr. (1924) and The General (1926) are considered to be some of his best work, with Orson Welles remarking upon the latter as being “perhaps the greatest film ever made”.

Despite the decline of Keaton’s career in the 30s after he lost his artistic independence, his legacy continues to live on. His iconic gags are ever-present within contemporary cinema, and his deadpan expression will forever be evocative of the Classical Era of Hollywood.

Cops (Buster Keaton, 1922)

Cops (Buster Keaton, 1922) is an American slapstick silent film starring and directed by Buster Keaton. Being a ‘two-reeler’, the film was shot using two reels of film and thus has a relatively short duration of 18 minutes.

Within the film, Keaton plays his usual stoic self as he gets involved in a series of misunderstandings involving a horse. This eventually leads to him getting on the wrong side of the entire LAPD during a parade, resulting in a classic Keaton chase sequence.

The opening shot of the film is particularly interesting, as Keaton’s clever framing allows the audience to believe that he is physically trapped behind bars. In reality, Keaton’s character is metaphorically ‘locked out’ from his girlfriends’s family, who represents the upper class.

Another expressive technique Keaton utilises is the during the seesaw sequence, in which he plays around with framing and symmetry to create yet another humorous gag. The realism within the film can be seen within the context, as it was produced during the rape-and-murder trial of Fatty Arbuckle – a silent star of the 1910s who brought Keaton into the limelight. Within Cops, Keaton’s character never comes out on top – despite his good intentions – which illustrates a sense of hopelessness throughout. The ending of the film is also extremely dark, the final shot being of a gravestone emblazoned with a ‘The End’ title card, with Keaton’s pork pie hat propped up against it.

I enjoyed elements of the more despairing tone Cops offered, but it is probably my least favourite of the four due to its confusing incoherence and strange pacing. However, the seesaw gag was particularly amusing and Keaton’s stunt-work is unbelievable as ever.

Overall, I would rate Cops ★★★.

The High Sign (Buster Keaton, 1921)

The High Sign (Buster Keaton, 1921) is an American slapstick silent film starring and directed by Buster Keaton. Being a ‘two-reeler’, the film was shot using two reels of film and thus has a relatively short duration of 21 minutes. The film was actually Keaton’s first effort, but due to his disappointment with the final product, it was not released until a year after its completion.

Within the film, Keaton plays a nameless drifter who lands a job in a shooting gallery. We are then introduced to a gang known as the Blinking Buzzards who wish to kill a man named August Nickelnurser. Keaton is then employed by both the gang as an assassin, as well by Nickelnurser as his personal bodyguard. This results in an hyperbolically humorous ‘double-agent’ storyline.

*The endearingly comedic Blinking Buzzard hand sign*

The film features a more complex storyline than both One Week and The Scarecrow, incorporating much more realism than expressionism throughout. Although the story is much more authentic and grounded in reality, Keaton’s trademark use of fast motion, slapstick humour and elaborate sets are still ever present. For example, an array of revolving wall panels, trapdoors and hidden corridors are utilised by Keaton to grand comedic effect. To demonstrate this, Keaton utilises an unusual wide shot at one point in the film, exhibiting the four rooms of the funhouse simultaneously. Through this, the comedic pandemonium is displayed in a creatively unique way.

The appearance of the Blinking Buzzard gang in this film is also an accurate portrayal of the 1920s time period, during which many ex-soldiers led a life of violence and corruption after the war.

I thoroughly enjoyed The High Sign and preferred it to both One Week and The Scarecrow. I found the double-agent storyline to be Keaton’s most engaging work thus far and found the ending to be extremely fulfilling.

Overall, I would rate The High Sign ★★★★.

The Scarecrow (Buster Keaton, 1920)

The Scarecrow (Buster Keaton, 1920) is an American slapstick silent film starring and directed by Buster Keaton. Being a ‘two-reeler’, the film was shot using two reels of film and thus has a relatively short duration of 19 minutes.

Keaton plays a worker on a farm who is in competition with his housemate (Joe Roberts) to win over the farmer’s daughter (Sybil Seely). After a number of humorous shenanigans, Keaton’s character borrows a scarecrow’s clothes, after which he trips into a kneeling position in front of the daughter. She believes he is proposing to him, and they are quickly whisked away on a motorbike on which they swiftly get married.

*The comedic marriage at the end of the film*

Once again, Keaton incorporates elements of expressive filmmaking into an otherwise realist film. For example, the sunrise exhibited at the start of the film is shot using fast motion in order to hyperbolise reality in a comedic manner. Keaton also utilises a variety of elaborate set designs, such as the intricate Rube Goldberg-like devices featured within the house. Additionally, Keaton and Roberts’ performances are extremely melodramatic throughout and a multitude of dangerous stunts demonstrate their daring athleticism. Realism can be seen throughout the film through the characters’ attire – typical 20s clothes – as well as the fact that the setting is authentically rural.

*Keaton’s elaborate Rube Goldberg-esque set*

Personally, I enjoyed The Scarecrow a considerable amount. Although the set pieces did not match up to the scope of One Week, I enjoyed the slightly more realistic situations the characters found themselves in. The film was well-paced and managed to be consistently humorous throughout, with an especially satisfying ending.

Overall, I would rate The Scarecrow ★★★.

One Week (Buster Keaton, 1920)

One Week (Buster Keaton, 1920) is an American slapstick silent film starring and directed by Buster Keaton. Being a ‘two-reeler’, the film was shot using two reels of film and thus has a relatively short duration of 19 minutes. The two main characters of the film are The Groom (Buster Keaton) and The Bride (Sybil Seely) – a newlywed couple who receive a ‘build-it-yourself’ house as a wedding gift. Handy Hank, a man who was rejected by the bride, decides to sabotage the house by renumbering the packages, meaning that the house isn’t built properly and results in being comically lopsided. The situation continues to grow worse over the course of the film, providing for a variety increasingly humorous situations throughout.

The film could be argued to take elements of both realism and expressionism throughout. Although the situation the two main characters find themselves in is somewhat grounded in reality, each event that takes place is extremely hyperbolic to a humorous effect.

Keaton utilises a number of interesting techniques throughout the film in order to create humour. For example, at one point in the film, the house begins to spin rapidly during a storm. This was not a model – the house was actually constructed atop a turntable and was filmed spinning in real time. This was done in order for the gag to appear more authentic. In addition to this, a real train was used during the collision sequence near the end of the film. Keaton’s use of fast motion throughout also heightens the exaggerated comedy.

The film also includes a brief fourth wall break, which appears to be very much ahead of its time. During one scene, The Bride is taking a bath and accidentally drops a bar of soap. As she reaches out of the bath to pick it up, a mysterious hand is placed over the camera lens. This form of censorship was not only seen as relatively scandalous during the time of release, but was also an extremely creative joke for the silent era of Hollywood.

I thoroughly enjoyed One Week from start to finish. The 19 minute duration allowed the film to not overstay its welcome and the hyperbolic silent comedy still holds up well to this day. My favourite set piece was the spinning house, as I enjoyed watching the characters devolve into pandemonium.

Overall, I would rate One Week ★★★★.

Silent Cinema: Stars And Studios In The States

Originating in the late 1800s, film began when Lumiere brothers discovered that if you displayed images in a rapid sequence (24 per second), it would create the illusion of a moving image. The first films were originally shot at an unmoving wide angle without any sound. At the time, one reel of film lasted around 8-12 minutes. Because of this, most films used two reels of film and were appropriately dubbed ‘two-reelers’. By the 1910s, filmmakers incorporated varying angles and used a multitude of sets within in a single film – portraying spatial and temporal movement.

As opposed to Germany and Russia, America did not view film as a new art form first and foremost. Instead, many American entrepreneurs saw film as a grand business opportunity. Because of this, vertical integration quickly took effect and filmmaking was quickly transformed into an assembly line-esque industry. Romance and comedy films were the genres of primary focus, due to these films attracting the highest cinema viewership, as they were easily digestible and relatable to audiences at the time.

In addition to this, slapstick was a very popular genre during the silent era of film, which displayed the actors’ daring athleticism and seemingly impossible feats. Through this, the first ‘stars’ of Hollywood were born – including Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton, as well as many others. The slapstick comedy duo Laurel & Hardy also had highly successful careers both during and after the silent era of Hollywood.

As film continued to grow exponentially in popularity, the rise of production facilities throughout America increased. This gave birth to the first film studios, five of which dominated the cinema. Throughout this Golden Age of Hollywood, the main studios included: Paramount, RKO, MGM, Warner Brothers and 20th Century Fox, who had complete control over both production business and distribution firms. It is no understatement to remark upon the fact that these studios were the supreme rulers of the American film industry from the 1920s-50s.

By 1929, almost all films had synchronised sound and film was the most popular art form in the Western world. Audiences visited the cinema primarily to see their favourite stars on the big screen. Because of this, the stars of Hollywood were coerced into signing exclusivity contracts, meaning that they could only work under specific studios. The film studios themselves only continued to grow substantially during the Great Depression, during which actors and directors were merely viewed as assets to possess by the studios. Studios engaged in a practice known as ‘block booking’ which allowed the studio to sell to multiple films to cinemas at once. Each cinema was owned by a particular studio and they had complete creative control over each film that was released under it. Ticket prices were fixed and each studio attempted to monopolise the industry by acquiring film ‘packages’. This meant that a handful of films were immediately owned by the particular studio.

This ultimately led to an over-saturation of uninspired and ‘by the numbers’ films. Filmmakers were restricted to experiment outside of what was absolutely certain to sell tickets. Hollywood’s contemporary association with shallowness, glamour and money originated from this early age of cinema.

Creating Meaning: German Expressionism and Soviet Montage

During the early days of film, different nations of the world utilised the medium of filmmaking in a variety of starkly juxtaposing ways in order to create meaning. Two key examples of this can be seen in German Expressionism and Soviet Montage.

German Expressionism

The image below is taken from The Cabinet of Dr Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920), a quintessential example of German Expressionism. In this single frame alone, Wiene demonstrates his creative use of sharp angular sets, oblique architecture and expressive costume design. Shadows and streaks of light are also painted onto the set directly.

Another quintessential example of German Expressionism is Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922). Incorporating animated shadows, spectral superimposition and visual shock, it arguably pioneered the contemporary horror genre which is ever-present in modern cinema.

Throughout Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927), effects expert Eugen Schüfftan pioneered the scope of what visual effects could achieve. He utilised miniatures of the dystopian city, a camera on a swing, as well as the Schüfftan process. Through this, mirrors are used to illustrate the illusion that actors are living in the miniature sets.

Soviet Montage

The images below is taken from Battleship Potemkin (Sergei Eisenstein, 1925) – specifically from the fourth sequence of the film – the iconic ‘Odessa Steps’ sequence. This depicts a fictional massacre of citizens on a giant stairway in Odessa, Ukraine. Eisenstein employs his apt knowledge of montage theory described above, through which an extremely harrowing scene is created. Juxtaposing a series of fast jump cuts and closeups with a series of wide shots and tracking shots, a strong emotional response in the viewer is evoked.

*Battleship Potemkin – The Odessa Steps sequence*

Throughout Man With a Movie Camera (Dsiga Vertov, 1929), a wide range of cinematic techniques are employed – most of which were invented by Vertov himself. Through a highly creative use of multiple exposure, fast motion, self-reflexive visuals and many more techniques which are listed above, an unashamedly avant-garde experience is created. The image below is an exemplary insight as to what the film offers in store.

Component 2c: Silent Cinema

The third component we are studying is Component 2c: Silent Cinema. This section of the course entails four films of study, each directed by Buster Keaton – a renowned silent filmmaker. These include One Week (1920), The Scarecrow (1920), The High Sign (1921) and Cops (1922). Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as one specialist study area – Realist vs Expressive filmmaking. This specialist area of study focuses on how the emergence of film as a new art form led to filmmakers around the world taking a variety of starkly juxtaposing approaches to filmmaking.

Component 2b: Documentary Film (Digital Technology)

“Portable, digital cameras, digital sound recording equipment and non-linear digital editing have had a very significant impact on documentary film.” How far has digital technology had an impact on your chosen documentary film?
Sample Assessment Materials, 2021

Introduction: The significance of digital technology generally, how it has affected filmmaking.

Body: How Kim Longinotto has utilised digital technology in order to create an unobtrusive observational documentary.

Described examples: Opening wide shot, able to film everything (‘favouriting’ footage, revealing moments “that’s what you men do”), portability (small and can conduct spontaneity panning, tilting, zooming. Swift and fluid movements), autofocus, natural lighting, no external sound equipment, multi-camera setup (cameras are cheap, two sides of the law – divorce sequence, storage is cheap and limitless, no cartridge swapping), non-directional microphone. Authentic long takes in Manka and divorce sequence, Manka scars, changing outcome of trial.

Conclusion

Essay – Version 1

The implementation of digital technology has had a vast impact upon filmmakers. Due to digital technology: cameras are much cheaper to purchase, editing is no longer permanent and films are much more widely available to general audiences. More specifically, the impact of digital technology has also greatly affected the documentary filmmaking scene in a multitude of beneficial ways. A great example of this can be seen within Sisters in Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005), in which Kim Longinotto employed the use of digital technology throughout the production process in order to produce an unobtrusive observational documentary.

The film opens on an establishing wide shot of the outskirts of Kumba, Cameroon. Due to the fact that this is filmed using a digital handheld camera out of a car window, Longinotto is able to make use of the built-in digital stabilisation. This allows the shot to be of a high quality and suitable for the cinema, despite the fact that it was filmed in a moving vehicle. This also demonstrates the fact it is not a requirement to be an expert cinematographer in order to operate a digital camera – democratising documentary filmmaking. Due to digital storage being extremely cheap and practically limitless, is likely that Longinotto filmed out of the window for an extended period of time. Afterwards, the take was likely edited together in post-production, through the apt use of digital non-linear editing software to demonstrate her journey into the village.

As Longinotto has the ability to film everything she encounters in Kumba, she is able to ‘favourite’ specific clips during the production process. As a result, she is able to start the editing process earlier and capture and display a number of revealing moments within the documentary. An example of this can be seen in the opening sequence when Vera Ngassa, the state prosecutor, exclaims “that’s what you men do!” to the husband of a wife seeking legal support. The lightweight and portable nature of the camera also allows Longinotto to conduct an extremely reactive style of filmmaking, letting her fluidly pan, tilt and zoom the camera as she deems appropriate. The digital autofocus feature is also utilised throughout the sequence, an example being when Longinotto swiftly zooms in on a closeup of Vera. The shot is out of focus for a brief unnoticeable moment, but the autofocus soon activates and the closeup is in perfect focus.

During the Manka sequence, when the aunt is summoned for questioning, Longinotto is able to initially zoom in on a closeup of the her, and then later zoom out to reveal a three-shot: displaying the aunt, Stephen and Manka. This demonstrates the digital camera’s ability to smoothly reposition a frame. Alongside this, due to the camera being so unobtrusive, no one is fazed by its presence – including young Manka herself. Unlike an imposing celluloid camera, this allows the events of the documentary to occur in a much more authentic manner. The digital camera is also able to exhibit the scars on Manka’s back, despite the dim lighting of the cramped office.

Throughout Sisters in Law, Longinotto’s use of digital sound recording is a much more convenient and intuitive process due to the fact no obtrusive equipment – such as external sound recorders or boom poles – are required. Instead, all the sound is captured and recorded with the use of a subtle non-directional microphone, and the requirement to synchronise sound in post-production is nullified. This makes the editing process much more efficient in effect. As digital cameras are much cheaper than analogue, Longinotto is able to afford a multi-camera setup, employing a co-director: Florence Ayisi. The setup is extremely useful in separating the two sides of the law in the divorce sequence, as well as providing good coverage of the courtroom. One camera is positioned in the corner of the room, whereas the other is stably positioned behind the couple, framing a two-shot. As Longinotto is not limited by storage, she is able to aptly utilise a variety of long takes throughout the Manka and divorce sequences. Despite the implementation of light editing to compress events, this makes the documentary seem much more authentic.

With particular focus on digital cameras, digital recording software and non-linear editing, Longinotto has intuitively utilised digital technology in a number of ways throughout the production of Sisters in Law in order to produce an uninterrupted observational documentary. Being extremely cost-efficient and accessible, digital technology has successfully democratised documentary filmmaking and positively impacted the medium as a whole.

Essay – Version 2

The film opens on an establishing wide shot of the outskirts of Kumba, Cameroon. Due to the fact that this is filmed using a digital handheld camera out of a car window, Longinotto is able to make use of digital image stabilisation. This allows the shot to be of a high quality and suitable for the cinema, despite the fact that it was filmed in a moving vehicle. This also demonstrates the fact it is not a requirement to be an expert cinematographer in order to operate a digital camera – democratising documentary filmmaking. Due to digital storage being extremely cheap and practically limitless, is likely that Longinotto filmed out of the window for an extended period of time. Afterwards, the take was likely edited together in post-production, through the apt use of digital non-linear editing software to demonstrate her journey into the village.

As Longinotto has the ability to film everything she encounters in Kumba, she is able to ‘favourite’ specific clips during the production process. As a result, she is able to start the editing process earlier and capture and display a number of revealing moments within the documentary. An example of this can be seen in the opening sequence when Vera Ngassa, the state prosecutor, exclaims “that’s what you men do!” to the husband of a wife seeking legal support. The lightweight and portable nature of the camera also allows Longinotto to conduct an extremely reactive style of filmmaking, letting her fluidly pan, tilt and zoom the camera as she deems appropriate. For example, she frequently pans the camera in the opening sequence between Vera and the couple depending on who is speaking, which is reminiscent of eyes following a conversation. The digital autofocus feature is also utilised throughout the sequence, an example being when Longinotto swiftly zooms in on a closeup of Vera. The shot is out of focus for a brief unnoticeable moment, but the autofocus soon activates and the closeup is in perfect focus.

During the Manka sequence, when the aunt is summoned for questioning, Longinotto is able to initially zoom in on a closeup of the her, and then later zoom out to reveal a three-shot: displaying the aunt, Stephen and Manka. This demonstrates the digital camera’s ability to smoothly reposition a frame. Alongside this, due to the camera being so unobtrusive, no one is fazed by its presence – including young Manka herself. Unlike an imposing celluloid camera, this allows the events of the documentary to occur in a much more authentic manner. The digital camera is also able to capture a closeup of Manka’s back, which exhibits the scars inflicted by her abusive aunt, despite the dim lighting of the cramped office.

As digital cameras are much cheaper than analogue, Longinotto is able to afford a multi-camera setup, employing a co-director: Florence Ayisi. The setup is extremely useful in separating the two sides of the law in the divorce sequence, as well as providing good coverage of the courtroom. One camera is positioned in the corner of the room, whereas the other is stably positioned behind the couple, framing a two-shot. As Longinotto is not limited by storage, she is able to aptly utilise a variety of long takes throughout the Manka and divorce sequences. Digital editing is no longer destructive, meaning that Longinotto is able to freely edit the takes together in a non-obtrusive manner. Because of this, light editing is employed throughout the film in order to compress events and form a natural transition between sequences.

Sisters In Law “Divorce Sequence” (Digital Technology)

Throughout the divorce sequence of Sisters in Law, Kim Longinotto’s utilisation of digital technology has allowed her to have an indirect impact upon the result of the divorce trial displayed in this sequence, despite the underlying aim to produce a fully unobtrusive observational documentary.

The first portion of the sequence is made up of a long take, in which a wide shot displays children playing football – one of many examples of domestic life presented throughout the documentary within the village of Kumba. Due to the fact that a handheld digital camera is able to record everything as storage is extremely cheap, Longinotto is able to acquire this B-roll footage and select appropriate clips later.

Within the courtroom, it becomes apparent that Longinotto has chosen to utilise a multi-camera setup once again. Due to the cameras being cheap and easy to use, she is able to capture good coverage of the scene. She can also, if needed, fluidly move out of the way as to not interrupt the proceedings, due to the portability of the camera. In this case, one camera is positioned in the corner of the room, whereas the other is stably positioned behind the couple, framing a two-shot.

The camera in the corner of the room continually films in a spontaneous manner – Longinotto pans, zooms and tilts on the fly as she deems appropriate. The camera itself works well in the dimly lit courtroom, meaning that no artificial lights are required, making the process much more unobtrusive. Due to cheap and limitless storage, Longinotto is once again able to film everything with one long take, alongside the fact that the laborious and conspicuous process of swapping film cartridges is not required.

Towards the end of the trial, the court behave in a manner which indicates to the viewer that Longinotto’s presence has been forgotten. Asserting their dominance over Amina, stating that “what we say must be”, Longinotto decides to make an active decision as she realises that Amina is in danger. She chooses to countermand the underlying mode of the film, an observational documentary, by actively stepping closer towards the court with the camera in hand. Afterwards, one of the judges jokingly remarks that “he’ll split you open” to Amina, initiating a change in opinion. Through this, Longinotto has indirectly forced the court to change their originally oppressive ruling.

Sisters In Law “Manka Sequence” (Digital Technology)

Throughout the Manka sequence of Sisters in Law, Kim Longinotto’s utilisation of digital technology has allowed her to create a successfully unobtrusive observational documentary.

Firstly, even Manka herself is not fazed by the camera’s presence, demonstrating the subtlety and unobtrusiveness of a small digital camera. Due to the cameras being relatively cheap, Longinotto is once again able to utilise a multi-camera setup during this scene. Alongside this, Longinotto does not need to worry about running out of film, as digital storage is extremely cheap and almost limitless.

The lightweight nature of the camera allows Longinotto to conduct an extremely reactive style of filmmaking, letting her to swiftly move the camera between the two sides of the law. For example, when Manka’s aunt appears later in the sequence, Longinotto is able to initially zoom in on a closeup of the her, and then later zoom out to reveal a three-shot: displaying the aunt, Stephen and Manka. In addition, she is able to ‘favourite’ specific takes as she is filming, allowing her to begin the editing process earlier. Longinotto’s use of long takes makes the documentary feel more authentic, despite the implementation of light editing, used to compress events. Filming each and every event allows her to select the most interesting moments during this process, such as the aunt’s breakdown during this sequence.

The digital camera is able to exhibit the scars on Manka’s back despite the dim lighting of the room – the brutality of the poignant moment is not lost due to digital technology. Finally, Vera’s demeanour is extremely authentic, assuming an austere disposition throughout the sequence. This demonstrates to the viewer that Longinotto’s camera has successfully remained unobtrusive.

*The camera is able to discern the scars on Manka’s back*

Sisters In Law “Opening Sequence” (Digital Technology)

Throughout the opening sequence of Sisters in Law, Kim Longinotto’s utilisation of digital technology has allowed her to create a successfully unobtrusive observational documentary.

The sequence opens on an establishing wide shot of the outskirts of Kumba. Due to the fact that this is filmed using a handheld camera out of a car window, Longinotto is able to make use of automatic digital stabilisation. In effect, this allows the shot to be of a high quality, despite the fact that it was filmed in a moving vehicle. In addition to this, the long take exhibits Longinotto’s journey as she gets closer and closer to Kumba. It is likely that she filmed out of the window for a long period of time, due to digital storage being cheap and practically unlimited. Afterwards, the take was likely edited together in post-production to demonstrate her journey.

Within the village, a number of wide shots display the rural vistas of Kumba. The foreground and background of each shot is in perfect focus, reinforcing the fact that no professional cinematographic skills are required to operate a digital camera. Due to Longinotto’s ability to film everything she encounters, she is able to select appropriate footage in post-production – an example of this can be seen when a man on a bicycle smiles at the camera.

As Longinotto cuts to the office, the portability of the digital camera becomes apparent. Due to the small stature of the camera, Longinotto is able to work in the crowded office. She is able to reposition the camera through zooming, panning and tilting – rather than having to physically move an analogue camera. The fluid camera movements continue to follow the action throughout the film, in an unobtrusive manner. Due to the fact that digital cameras are able to capture footage well in low lighting, no artificial lights are required to be used, preserving the credibility of the film. Longinotto is able to merely film the unfolding events from the corner of the room and the footage will be adequate for a cinema screen. Alongside this, no external sound recorder or boom pole is required to record the sound of the environment. Instead, all the sound is captured and recorded with the camera itself and the requirement to synchronise sound in post-production is nullified – making the editing process much more convenient

Due to cameras themselves being cheap, Longinotto can afford to make use of a multi-camera setup which, in effect, allows her to capture two simultaneously occurring events. This can be seen when a closeup of the wife is overlayed with the audio of a separate clip. In addition to this, a subtle digital camera is much less imposing than a staggering analogue camera, which requires setup. This allows for a much more unobtrusive documentary, as the subjects are bound to act more naturally in the presence of a more unnoticeable camera. In order to preserve authenticity, Longinotto is able to utilise the zoom and autofocus functionalities respectively, which are available on a digital camera. Because of this, the closeup of Vera goes into focus after a brief moment. This further democratises documentary filmmaking, due to zooming being an automatic and intuitive process.

A non-directional microphone is also built into the camera, which allows Longinotto to record all audio at once – albeit at the cost of hearing some voices louder in the mix than others. Finally, due to the fact that Longinotto is able to capture every moment with her digital camera, a number of revealing moments are captured and make it into the final cut. A clear example of this can be seen in the first sequence when Vera shouts “that’s what you men do!” At the husband.

Critical Debates: The Significance Of Digital Technology

We were tasked to create a mind map that details that significance of digital technology within filmmaking. On the whole, the implementation of digital technology has vastly improved film in three key areas: filmmakers in general, to audiences and to documentary filmmakers in particular.

Side By Side (Chris Keneally, 2013)

Side By Side (Chris Keneally, 2013) is a documentary film directed by Christopher Keneally. Presented by Keanu Reeves, the film investigates the history, process and workflow of celluloid and digital filmmaking respectively.

Throughout the film, a wide variety of notable directors, actors, producers and cinematographers are interviewed by Keanu. These include the likes of David Fincher, Martin Scorsese, George Lucas, David Lynch, Greta Gerwig and many more. The film cuts between interview clips featuring Keanu and one of the aforementioned filmmakers with relevant visuals of the filmmaking process being discussed.

*Keanu Reeves pictured with some of the crew members* *of Side By Side*

Each filmmaker is able to voice their opinion on both the photochemical and digital means of filmmaking, each giving us a different interpretation. For example, filmmakers such as George Lucas and James Cameron were early adopters of digital technology and are all for leaping into the future. Conversely, Christopher Nolan and David Fincher are still reluctant to do this, and insist on using film cameras.

There is a significant argument for both cases, due to the fact that digital is becoming increasingly cheaper and of a higher quality. Furthermore, Danny Boyle stated that he felt he had more freedom during the production of 28 Days Later which was filmed on digital. However, pro-celluloid filmmakers argue that actors take the noisier film cameras more seriously as they can “hear the money”. Alongside this, some argue that digital will simply never equal the sheer quality of authentic film reels.

The mode of this documentary is participatory, due to the fact that Keanu Reeves’ presence can be felt. However, he is not the filmmaker of this particular documentary, therefore it cannot be performative.

I enjoyed the film a considerable amount and it gave me a comprehensive insight into film production, featuring an ensemble cast of directors that I admire. However, I felt that the pace of the film faltered at points.

Overall, I would rate Side by Side ★★★.

Component 2b: Documentary Film (Filmmakers’ Theories)

How far does your chosen documentary demonstrate elements of one or more filmmaker’s theories you have studied?
Autumn 2020

Introduction: Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, has argued that all films fall into one of two categories of documentary – being wish fulfilment and social representation. The latter of which can be further categorised into one of Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary, including: expository, observational, participatory, performative, poetic and reflexive.

Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes and can be easily argued to be categorised under more than one. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which can be classified in particular as an observational or participatory documentary. These filmmakers such as the aforementioned Peter Watkins, as well as those such as Michael Moore and Nick Brookfield, are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Therefore, their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed, preconceived system created by a single person.

Section 1: Introduce Kim Longinotto and her style. Reference her ideologies and theories.

Observational, Cinema verite, “would like to watch herself”, “feels very uncomfortable asking people to do things”, panning over cuts, Aaton Super-16 camera over digital technology (acts as the cinematographer and camera operator).

Section 2: Introduce Sisters in Law.

Handheld, long-takes, opening score is the only non-diegetic sound, temporal editing, tilts, subtitles, editing compresses events, zooming (Vera and Manka), priorities authenticity over aesthetics, two shots separates the law, reactionary shots, domestic life separations, over-the-shoulder (Amina), gender inequality (observational documentary is successful), playing up to the camera (aunt and council)

Conclusion

Essay – Version 1

Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, has argued that all films fall into one of two categories of documentary: wish fulfilment and social representation. The latter of which can be further categorised into one of Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary, including: expository, observational, participatory, performative, poetic and reflexive.

Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes and can be easily argued to be categorised under more than one. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which can be classified in particular as an observational or participatory documentary. These filmmakers such as the aforementioned Peter Watkins, as well as those such as Michael Moore and Nick Broomfield, are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Therefore, their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed, preconceived system created by a single person.

Despite this, a number of documentarians’ work can indeed be categorised under a single mode of documentary, one example being Kim Longinotto. Known for making observational documentaries that spread awareness of discriminatory oppression towards women, Longinotto has stated that “real life is often more surprising and extraordinary than we can imagine”. Incoporating the cinéma vérité style of filmmaking into her films, Longinotto attempts to create films that she “would like to watch” herself. Her films are characterised by an authentic, uninterrupted portrayal of events which supports her ideology of believing that films should not explicitly state what the viewer should think and feel over the course of the film. This juxtaposes the styles of documentarians such as Michael Moore, who establishes an extremely noticeable and cynical presence throughout each of his films.

Throughout her films, Longinotto prefers to pan the camera rather than use cuts when a new person begins to talk. This places the viewer within the “eyes” of the camera and establishes a much more authentic and apparent perspective. Although she can never be seen in her documentaries, Longinotto acts as the cinematographer and camera operator for each of her films. Because of this, she shoots each of her films with an Aaton Super-16 model stating that she “loves the steadiness” of it. Often employing only one other co-director, it is important for her to film with a camera that she is extremely familiar and comfortable with.

One film that best demonstrates the filmmaking theories of Kim Longinotto is Sisters in Law (2005). Throughout the film, Longinotto employs the key elements of film form in a wide variety of ways in order to produce an unobtrusive and authentic observational documentary.

Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of her aforementioned Aaton Super-16 handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. This can initially be seen in the opening shot of the film – a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape of Kumba, Cameroon. The use of a handheld camera without a tripod is perhaps used due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. In theory, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine because of this, demonstrating Longinotto’s theory of authenticity. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. After the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambience of Kumba enters.

From this point forward, every sound in the mix is both diegetic and recorded on set. Alongside this, the lighting is all naturally captured and is merely a reflection of reality. All of the mise-en-scène found within each scene is naturally occurring in order to display an entirely authentic depiction of the scenarios. Alongside this, no contextual information is explicitly stated to the viewer – supporting Longinotto’s aforementioned statement about implicit information. After an apt use of temporal editing to demonstrate the journey into the village, Longinotto employs her first of many uses of camera panning. Acting as the proxy for the viewer, the pan exhibits the view of the rural setting. Alongside this, panning is used to focus on each subject as they begin to talk, replicating the notion of eyes following a conversation.

Within the village, Longinotto utilises a number of spontaneous camera movements – tracking subjects by tilting the camera up and down. Scenes are mostly captured with a two camera setup, operated by Longinotto herself, as well as co-director Florence Ayisi. Thus, each scenario can be captured by two opposing angles and cut together by Longinotto in post-production. During a court meeting between Vera Ngassa (the state prosecutor) and a couple, Longinotto employs the zoom feature in real time to focus in on a closeup of Vera. Due to autofocus taking effect, the footage briefly goes out of focus before refocusing on the closeup. This demonstrates to us Longinotto’s ideological priority of accuracy and authenticity over aesthetic perfection.

Each legal case is interspersed with brief, ambient scenes which display domestic life within the village. Throughout these, Longinotto will typically film in a single location and capture each and every event that occurs, even seemingly trivial scenarios. In effect, this implicitly contextualises the setting and cultural characteristics of the Cameroonian village of Kumba. This demonstrates her theory of capturing “real life” throughout her unassuming style of filmmaking.

Zooms are often used throughout the film, another example being during the Manka Sequence in which Longinotto zooms in on a young girl’s wounds. Through this, a high-angle closeup is created which exhibits the scars and wounds she possesses. This subtle example of camera manipulation instills empathy within the viewer and reinforces Manka’s vulnerability. Longinotto also separates the two sides of the law by cutting between a three-shot of Stephen, Manka and the aunt, and a mid-closeup of Vera which is captured by the second camera. This apt use of editing is noticeable to the viewer, but unobtrusive to the portrayal of events. During the confrontation, the camera also occasionally focuses on the reaction of the subject being spoken to, rather than the person speaking. Through this reactionary shot equivalent, the viewer is able to soak in each of the subject’s live reactions to the events that occur. During the aunt’s panic-stricken rebuttal, Longinotto utilises a closeup on her face. Through this, it becomes clear to the viewer that the aunt is playing up to the camera. Her exaggerated crocodile tears and frantic justifications purports a sense of vulnerability, but the viewer is likely able to see through this due to Longinotto’s intelligent camerawork.

This instance of the camera having a direct impact on events can also be seen within the Divorce Sequence. After the divorce is granted to Amina by the council who almost exiled her from the country, the man now noticeably plays up to the camera, stating that “that’s what Cameroon wants! We don’t want problems”. Vera’s prior empowerment over the abusive aunt juxtaposed with the oppression faced by Amina within this sequence epitomises the different roles in society held by women that Longinotto endeavours to bring to light.

In conclusion, Kim Longinotto’s filmmaking theories, employed throughout Sisters in Law, can be characterised at its core, by her proactive avoidance of intervention which is typically found throughout other documentaries. For example, if Nick Broomfield or Louis Theroux had made this film, their respective strong characters would be felt across the duration of the film. In the case of Longinotto, Sisters in Law’s approach allows for a much more subtle and thoughtful viewing experience, in which the viewer is able to draw their own conclusions through Longinotto’s implicit manner of filmmaking.

Essay – Version 2

Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Documentary theorist Bill Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary can be used to categorise each and every documentary under a particular division.

Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which could be classified under more than one mode. This is because Watkins and other documentarians such as Michael Moore and Nick Broomfield are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed and narrow-minded system.

Despite this, a number of documentarians’ work can indeed be categorised under a single mode of documentary, one example being Kim Longinotto. Known for making observational documentaries that spread awareness of discriminatory oppression towards women, Longinotto has stated that “real life is often more surprising and extraordinary than we can imagine”. Incoporating the cinéma vérité style of filmmaking into her films, Longinotto attempts to create films that she “would like to watch” herself. Her films are characterised by an uninterrupted portrayal of events which supports her ideology of believing that films should not explicitly state what the viewer should think and feel.

Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of a handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. This can initially be seen in the opening shot of the film – a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape of Kumba, Cameroon. The use of a handheld camera without a tripod is perhaps used due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. In theory, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine because of this, demonstrating Longinotto’s theory of authenticity. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. After the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambience of Kumba enters.

Sisters in Law “Divorce Sequence” (Filmmakers’ Theories)

We were tasked to analyse the “Divorce Sequence” from Sisters in Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005). Throughout the sequence, Longinotto once again employs the key elements of film form in a variety of naturalistic and unobtrusive ways.

The sequence opens on a wide establishing shot that exhibits a rural vista of Kumba. This exhibition of domestic life within the village is once again utilised by Longinotto to separate the court cases from each other in a subtle and authentic manner. We then cut to a divorce procedure within a small, densely packed room which is framed claustrophobically. By physically moving out of the way, Longinotto attempts to remain as unobtrusive as possible. She does not want the camera’s presence to influence the procedure in any way.

Once again, the two sides of the law are separated by two different two-shots, one exhibiting the court and one displaying the couple. The court initially addresses Amina, the woman seeking divorce, in a commanding and austere manner whereas the man is spoken to politely and formally. After Amina states that she has received legal advice, the council uses harsh phrases such as “you have to do as we say!” and “what we say must be!”, the prevalent gender inequality present throughout the country is reinforced. Longinotto accentuates this hostility by frequently cutting between the two two-shots and additionally implementing the use of an over-the-shoulder shot. Through this, the oppression that Longinotto is seeking to bring to light is epitomised and Amina’s vulnerable position is highlighted. Due to this behaviour, we can infer that at this point, the court is acting in a ‘normal’ manner and Longinotto seems to have no impact on the events unfolding. Because of this, Longinotto’s aims are ultimately achieved, and the observational documentary has been successful.

After the court begin to realise they are on camera, the case takes a complete U-turn. Firstly, the men acknowledge the danger Amina is facing in a light-hearted manner by exclaiming that the man will “split [her] open!’. The divorce is then granted to Amina, despite almost exiling her from the village moments earlier. The man now noticeably plays up to the camera, stating that “that’s what Cameroon wants! We don’t want problems”. This demonstrates that the camera has influenced the outcome of the trial, perhaps due to the fact that Longinotto seems to have stepped closer to the subjects. Finally, a questionably celebratory atmosphere is present within the council, arousing suspicion within the viewer due to the stark juxtaposition of events in such a short span of time.

Sisters In Law “Manka Sequence” (Filmmakers’ Theories)

We were tasked to analyse the “Manka Sequence” from Sisters in Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005). Throughout the sequence, Longinotto once again employs the key elements in a variety of naturalistic and unobtrusive ways.

Once again making apt use of her handheld camera, Longinotto continues to employ panning between each of the subjects depicted – in this case being Manka, Stephen and Vera. Each sound heard throughout the sequence is both diegetic and recorded on location. As Stephen proceeds to detail the brutality of Manka’s wounds, Longinotto zooms into the young girl. Through this, a closeup is created which exhibits the scars and wounds Manka possesses as a result of her aunt’s abusive behaviour. A high angle shot is then implemented – looking down onto Manka. This subtle example of camera manipulation instills empathy within the viewer and is further accentuated when Manka looks up towards the camera.

As the camera zooms out, Manka and Stephen are framed in a two-shot which portrays a significant difference in figure between the two. Manka’s frailty and destitution is reinforced through the use of this carefully constructed frame. Longinotto then utilises another example of temporal editing, in order to smoothly transition the footage to the following day which appropriately compresses the events presented.

During the next day, the aunt, Stephen and Manka a framed together in a single three-shot. We cut between this and a mid-closeup of Vera, captured by the second camera. Through this use of editing, the separation between the two sides of the law are subtly established. In addition, the three-shot allows the viewer to take notice of Stephen’s paternal-like protection of Manka as well as the aunt’s frantic attempts to justify herself. In addition, Stephen occasionally glances into the camera which demonstrates his awareness of the situation and reinforces his protective nature. During the confrontation, the camera occasionally focuses on the reaction of the subject being spoken to. Through this reactionary shot equivalent, the viewer is able to soak in each of the subject’s live reactions to the events that occur.

During the aunt’s panic-stricken rebuttal, Longinotto utilises a closeup on her face. Through this, it becomes clear to the viewer that the aunt is playing up to the camera. Her exaggerated crocodile tears and frantic justifications purports a sense of vulnerability, but the viewer is likely able to see through this due to Longinotto’s intelligent camerawork. She attempts to hide nothing from the viewer and merely display an accurate portrayal of events, despite the aunt’s superficial emotions. This is further reinforced when we return to the three-shot, during which Manka’s stoic reaction to her aunt’s utterly distraught rationalisation for her abusive actions. This shot further displays Manka as an innocent and vulnerable victim.

Sisters In Law “Opening Sequence” (Filmmakers’ Theories)

Throughout the opening sequence of Sisters in Law, Kim Longinotto employs the key elements of film form in a wide variety of ways in order to produce an unobtrusive observational documentary.

Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of a portable handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. The sequence opens with a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape. It could be argued that Longinotto has chosen to use a smaller, more portable camera due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. Therefore, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine in theory. The vistas are lush and the weather is overcast – perhaps challenging the viewer’s preconceived notions of West Africa. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. As the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambient street noise of Kumba enters. From this point forward, every sound in the mix is both diegetic and recorded on set. Alongside this, the lighting is all naturally captured and is merely a reflection of reality. All of the mise-en-scène found within each scene is naturally occurring in order to display an entirely authentic depiction of the scenarios. It is also important to make note of the fact that no contextual information is explicitly stated to the viewer.

As Longinotto travels further into the village, it becomes clear that an example of temporal editing is implemented. Longinotto’s use of hard cuts exhibit the passing of time as the village becomes ever closer. As she reaches her destination, Longinotto employs her first of many uses of camera panning – a typically unorthodox technique within filmmaking. In the case of Sisters in Law, panning is used in order to recreate the feeling of a head turning to take in its surroundings. Through this, the camera acts as the proxy for the viewer over the course of the film.

Within the village, Longinotto captures the actions of the documentary subjects in a variety of ways. She utilises a number of spontaneous camera movements – tracking people’s movements by tilting up and down. Alongside this, when a person starts speaking, Longinotto will usually pan the camera in order to focus upon them, reminiscent of eyes following a conversation. Scenes are mostly captured with a two camera setup, operated by Kim Longinotto herself, as well as co-director Florence Ayisi. Through this, each situation can be aptly captured by two opposite angles – Longinotto later cutting between the footage appropriately.

The residents of Kumba mostly speak in a form of Pidgin English. This involves the use of fragmented English phrases which are interspersed with a multitude of African tongues. Due to this, almost all of the events portrayed are accompanied by English subtitles. As we are introduced to Vera Ngassa, the state prosecutor, a subtle title card displays her name – a rare example of explicit information provided to the viewer. The conversation between the prosecutor and the couple ensues, during which Longinotto employs the zoom feature in real time to focus in on a closeup of Vera. Due to autofocus taking effect, the footage briefly goes out of focus before refocusing on the closeup. This demonstrates to us Longinotto’s priority of accuracy and authenticity over aesthetic perfection in the case of this film.

Throughout the sequence, editing is visible and present – but unobtrusive. Used in order to break up the frequent long takes which exhibit the passing of time, Longinotto’s use of editing acts as a compression of events rather than a manipulation. It is clear to see that in the example of this case, the woman reporting her abusive relationship is acting genuinely. She takes no notice of the camera’s presence and her sincere demeanour illustrates that she is exclusively concerned with her serious legal matter. In addition to this, Vera Ngassa’s disposition is strict, impartial and austere. This aids Longinotto’s aim of presenting female strength and empowerment within an oppressed and poverty-stricken environment. Finally, it is important to make note of the fact that each legal case is interspersed with brief, ambient scenes which display domestic life within the village. Throughout these, Longinotto will typically film in a single location and capture each and every event that occurs, even seemingly trivial scenarios. In effect, this contextualises the setting and cultural characteristics of the Cameroonian village of Kumba.

Filmmakers’ “theories” — Kim Longinotto

Kim Longinotto is a British documentary filmmaker known for making observational documentaries that spread awareness of discriminatory oppression towards women. Stating that “real life is often more surprising and extraordinary than anything we can imagine”, her films include those such as The Day I Will Never Forget which explores victims of FGM in Kenya and Pink Saris – a film which documents women in India standing up to rapists.

Studying English and European literature at Essex University, Longinotto met fellow documentarian Nick Broomfield, and both later attended the National Film and Television School. Here, she made a film called Pride of Place which documented a draconian all-girls boarding school that Kim Longinotto attended as a child. Later shown at the London Film Festival, this perhaps inspired her to discover her niche of cinema – creating unobtrusive documentaries about women undergoing oppressive circumstances.

Longinotto has said ‘I don’t think of films as documents or records of things. I try to make them as like the experience of watching a fiction film as possible, though, of course, nothing is ever set up.’ Her work is about finding characters that the audience will identify with — ‘you can make this jump into someone else’s experience’. Unlike Moore and Broomfield, Longinotto is invisible, with very little use of voice-over, formal interviews, captions or incidental music. As the ‘eyes’ of her audience, she doesn’t like to zoom or pan. She says she doesn’t want her films to have conclusions but to raise questions.

Kim Longinotto attempts to create films that she “would like to watch” herself. Due to this, each of her films can be categorised under the observational mode of documentary, often utilising the cinéma vérité style of filmmaking in which subjects are depicted in the most authentic manner possible. She vehemently believes that films should not explicitly state what the viewer should think and feel throughout the duration of the film. Stating in an interview that she “feels very uncomfortable asking people to do things”, Kim Longinotto endeavours to create uninterrupted films that are characterised by empathy and nonintervention. Despite this, she feels uncomfortable with her films being described as “fly on the wall”, stating that “it implies that the person we are filming does not really care and is not involved.”

Furthermore, Longinotto prefers to pan the camera, rather than cut when a new person begins to talk. In effect, this places the viewer within the “eyes” of the camera and establishes a much more authentic and apparent perspective. Kim Longinotto is never seen within her documentaries, as she does not wish to interfere with the events and issues being documented.

A key example of this can be witnessed throughout Longinotto’s film, Sisters in Law. The film provides zero context surrounding the subject matter and throws the viewer straight into the deep end. Other than the subtle use of unassuming title cards, this undisturbed style of filmmaking continues throughout the duration of the film as the viewer continues to surmise more information about the Cameroonian judicial system. Stating that the film took “3 months filming and 10 weeks editing”, it is clear to see that Kim Longinotto meticulously crafts each of her films in a highly deliberate and meaningful manner.

*An authentic situation captured by Longinotto in Sisters in Law*

All of Longinotto’s films are filmed in a foreign country, making her a foreign filmmaker within those countries. After filming in Kenya while making The Day I Will Never Forget, Longinotto described herself as not having “any of those prejudices” towards the tribes she was documenting, due to being an outsider. Through this, the concepts of “gender, power and hierarchy” became more apparent to her as the film developed.

Longinotto shoots each of her films with an Aaton Super-16 camera, a relatively large model. Straying from the increasing popularity of digital technology, Longinotto has stated that she “loves the steadiness” of her camera, as well as “the fact that it’s film”. This particular preference perhaps allows her to produce a more authentic and raw documentary. Alongside this, Longinotto acts as the cinematographer and camera operator for each of her films. Therefore, it is understandable for her to film with a camera that she is extremely familiar and comfortable with.

*Kim Longinotto pictured with her preferred camera*

Sisters In Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005)

Sisters in Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005) is an observational documentary film which gives us an insight into the criminal judicial system of Cameroon. We follow the day-to-day lives of Vera Ngassa (the state prosecutor) and Beatrice Ntuba (the court president) throughout the film. The two fight against injustice within the village of Kumba, placing particular emphasis on domestic abuse, child abuse and violence against women throughout the film.

*Vera Ngassa (left) and Beatrice Ntuba (right)*

The film centres around four cases, each being linked by the theme of discriminatory violence against women. The case that has the most time dedicated to it involves Manka, a child who was beaten with a cane by her aunt. By the end of the film, she is charged with child abuse at the hands of Vera Ngassa. Despite this, women are also presented in a strong and rigorous light due to the two aforementioned lawyers, Vera and Beatrice exhibiting their forceful presence by distributing their ethical judgement towards the tyrannical citizens present throughout the country.

*Residents of Kumba features throughout the film*

The film is unanimously agreed upon to be categorised under the observational mode of documentary. This is due to the fact that Kim Longinotto has zero direct involvement on the events portrayed throughout the film and merely wishes to capture an entirely accurate and uninterrupted portrayal of the Kumba judicial system. The only involvement Longinotto has on the events of the film are through her use of occasional subject title cards, as well as subtitles of the Pidgin English spoken by the subjects. The camera almost appears to be invisible, as the subjects of the documentary never once acknowledge the camera’s presence. This ‘fly on the wall’ style of filmmaking means that the film can easily be placed under the observational mode. This particular mode of documentary allows the viewer to form their own opinion on the events that unfold throughout the film without the hindrance of a coercive documentarian, such as Michael Moore.

Personally, I enjoyed Sisters in Law to a considerable degree. Through Longinotto’s apt use of the observational mode of documentary, I often forgot that these events were filmed in the presence of a documentary crew. Although I found some cases more engaging than others, Longinotto offers an enlightening insight into the judicial system of Cameroon and spreads awareness of the discrimination of women throughout the country.

Overall, I would rate Sisters in Law ★★★½.

The Trouble With The Six Modes

Bill Nichols’ modes of documentary are highly problematic for one key reason. The vast majority of documentaries cannot be categorised under a single mode of documentary, a clear example being The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965). This particular film can be argued to be classified under a number of modes – including both observational and participatory. Because of this, an uncertain middle ground is created and the modes are rendered useless.

The main reason for this is that filmmakers attempt to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary, often with a particular artistic vision in mind. Because of this, documentarians often attempt to prevent their films from being categorised under a single, pre-conceived mode created by a single person.

Filmmakers’ “theories” — Louis Theroux

Louis Theroux is a British-American documentarian, journalist, broadcaster, podcaster and author. He is known for hosting performative documentaries, such as When Louis Met… and Weird Weekends, as well as a number of BBC Two specials including The Most Hated Family in America.

The faux-naïf persona he presents is deceptive to the interviewee because it will make them feel like they have to tell him everything from the basics, which is an advantage for the viewer as they will get the clearest picture of the subject that they are talking about.

Theroux’s documentaries typically follow Louis’ investigation into some of the world’s most restricted and controversial communities. Including the Westbrook Baptist Church, a notorious neo-nazi group and the San Quentin prison, there seems to be no limit as to where Louis Theroux will document next.

Louis Theroux’s style of documentary is like no other. Being typically categorised under the performative mode, Theroux purports a façade of naïveté and inquisitiveness in order to establish a diplomatic rapport between himself and his interviewees. Through this, the viewer is able to place themselves in Louis’ shoes and receive an objective, transparent insight into these marginal subcultures.

In addition, a number of unscripted humourous moments often occur throughout Theroux’s films due to Louis’ occasional remarks towards the interviewee. During these, Louis will often comment on exactly what the viewer themselves is thinking and this creates a sense of relatability between Louis and the viewer.

Due to this, Louis Theroux has received a number of accolades including two BAFTAs for Best Presenter as well an Emmy award in 1995. He is popular among the documentary viewership and arguably one of the most recognisable documentarians of our time.

Louis Theroux

The Most Hated Family in America (Geoffrey O’Connor, 2007) is a performative documentary written and presented by Louis Theroux. During the film, Theroux visits the Westbrook Baptist Church in Kansas. Led by Fred Phelps, the church members vehemently believe that America is immoral due to the tolerance of homosexuality present throughout the country,

*Louis pictured with the daughters of the church*

Throughout the film, Louis accompanies the church to a number of pickets at the funerals of military soldiers who were killed in action. Throughout the protest, each member of the church – including the radicalised young children proudly displays a multitude of extremely derogatory signs pictured below.

Alongside attending the pickets, Louis takes time to interview each member of the church in order to fully understand their extremely controversial way of life. He exerts an extremely polite and almost naive demeanour towards the church members, cleverly making them more eager and willing to converse with him. He strikes the perfect balance between getting up-close and personal with the interviewees and keeping enough distance between to remain impartial towards the situation.

This film could be categorised under the performative documentary mode, due to Louis Theroux’s heavy involvement upon the events depicted within the film. Revolving around Louis’ interactions with the church members, Theroux holds the film together and the viewer can easily place themselves in his shoes.

The film aired on 1 April 2007 on BBC Two and received 4.3 million viewers. Later the film was awarded overwhelmingly positive acclaim for exposing this controversial family to the public eye in an extremely professional manner.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Most Hated Family in America from start to finish. Being a fan of Theroux’s style of documentary, I was engaged within the interactions between Louis and the church members.

Overall, I would rate The Most Hated Family in America ★★★★.

Filmmakers’ “theories” — Nick Broomfield

Nick Broomfield is an English documentary filmmaker known for his highly influential self-reflective style of documentary. Initially regarded as a performative documentarian, Broomfield begun to employ non-actors to play themselves in scripted works, beginning in the early 2000s. Broomfield refers to his work as ‘Direct Cinema’, attempting to capture his subjects as directly as possible.

Broomfield, like Michael Moore, has developed a participatory, performative mode of documentary filmmaking. Broomfield is an investigative documentarist with a distinctive interview technique which he uses to expose people’s real views. Like Watkins, he keeps the filmmaking presence to a minimum, normally with a crew of no more than three. He describes his films as ‘like a rollercoaster ride. They’re like a diary into the future.’

Broomfield can often be seen within his films, recording sound himself with a couple of camera operators at his side. Because of this, Broomfield’s films, such as Kurt and Courtney and the Aileen duology, are often categorised as either participatory or performative documentaries. Despite this, his films such as Driving Me Crazy also frequently detail the events of the making of the documentary itself – perhaps placing it under the reflexive mode. Nick Broomfield has inspired many other documentarians with this particular style of filmmaking – influencing the likes of both Michael Moore and Louis Theroux.

In 2006, Broomfield adopted the aforementioned style of ‘Direct Cinema’, casting non-actors within scripted works. He produced Ghosts, a dramatisation which detailed the events of the 2004 Morecambe Bay cockling disaster. Receiving immense critical acclaim and winning a multitude of awards, Broomfield managed to raise almost £500,000 for the families of the depicted disaster.

Aileen: Life And Death Of A Serial Killer (Nick Broomfield, 2003)

Aileen: Life and Death Of A Serial Killer (Nick Broomfield, 2003) is a performative documentary film that details the events leading up to Aileen Wuornos’ execution – America’s first female serial killer. The film is a follow-up to Broomfield’s previous film Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer (1992) in which Broomfield attempts to interview Wuornos, and those around her who exploit her.

Throughout the film, Broomfield documents his relationship with Aileen and her family members through a variety of interviews. Alongside this, a large portion of the film is made up of Aileen’s courtroom hearings in which Nick Broomfield is summoned as a key witness. Broomfield additionally employs an assortment of news-reel footage in a non-linear manner to further inform the viewer of Aileen’s crimes. Interestingly, Aileen’s mental state can be seen to be visibly deteriorating over the course of the film.

This film could be considered a performative documentary due to Nick Broomfield’s heavy impact upon the events depicted throughout the film. Every event portrayed throughout the documentary can be traced back to Broomfield in one way or another.

The film grossed $16,158 after being released on three screens and received positive acclaim, receiving an 86% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

Personally, I enjoyed the film to a certain extent and found Aileen’s hearings to be quite enjoyable and engaging. Despite this, I found many of the interviews to be relatively boring and unenjoyable – especially Aileen’s.

Overall, I would rate Aileen: Life And Death Of A Serial Killer ★★★.

Filmmakers’ “theories” — Peter Watkins

Peter Watkins is an English film and television director known for pioneering the ‘docu-drama’ sub-genre of documentary. Presenting radical ideas in an unorthodox fashion, Watkins’ filmography offers an insight into scarily authentic but hypothetical near-future events.

Watkins established his reputation with two docu-dramas from the 1960s, Culloden and The War Game. Both document events from the past using actors and reconstruction. In asking questions of conventional documentary, Watkins reflects his deep concern with mainstream media, which he has called the ‘monoform’.

*Peter Watkins (second in from the right)*

Throughout films such as The War Game, Watkins typically employs amateur actors and handheld cameras in order to purport a sense of authenticity throughout the dystopian future presented throughout. Alongside this, Watkins includes superficial news report footage as well as voice-over narration within his films to fully immerse the viewer. Watkins’ implementation of documentary filmmaking traits in a seemingly impossible scenario, such as the bloody Scottish battlefields found within Culloden, provide a vast sense of immediate enthrallment throughout his filmography.

Peter Watkins’ films can typically be classed as somewhere between an expository documentary and an observational documentary. Due to the utilisation of narration combined with seemingly impossible ‘fly on the wall’ scenes, Watkins’ films lie in an interesting middle ground within Bill Nichols’ modes of documentary.

The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1966)

The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1966) is a British pseudo-documentary film which depicts a hypothetical nuclear war and the proceeding repercussions. The film caused a significant amount of distress within the BBC and it was soon deemed to be “too horrifying” for a general audience. The film was later televised in July 1985 during the week before the 40th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing.

During this ‘worst-case scenario’, the UK has declared a state of emergency after the Soviets threaten to invade West Berlin if the US does not revoke their decision to employ nuclear warfare. Ration cards and hazard booklets are soon distributed to the public and an emergency siren system is tested. Soon enough, a Soviet thermonuclear warhead airbursts 6 miles outside of Manston Airfield and the effects of the nuclear bomb are viscerally displayed to the viewer through the use of extremely graphic imagery.

The War Game wavers between being an observational documentary and a participatory documentary. In some scenes, the actors on-screen acknowledge the presence of the camera and in others, the camera appears to be invisible. Through this, a ‘fly on the wall’ style of filmmaking is employed, thus placing these parts of the film under the observational mode. The fact that each situation depicted is entirely fictional and each of the characters are actors, suggests that the film can be categorised as a participatory documentary. This is aptly utilised by Watkins in order to immerse the viewer within the imaginably dystopian reality of the near-future.

*Some of the many victims of nuclear warfare displayed throughout The War Game*

Receiving a 93% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and winning the 1967 Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, critics praised the film for being “remarkab[ly] authentic” – despite being shown to the public almost 20 years after production.

Although I didn’t get much enjoyment out of The War Game, I greatly appreciated it for its frightening level of genuineness presented throughout its 45 minute runtime. It’s no surprise that this film wasn’t aired publicly in 1965.

Overall, I would rate The War Game ★★★.

Filmmakers’ “theories” — Michael Moore

Michael Moore is an American documentary filmmaker, author and left-wing activist. Often addressing the topics of globalisation and capitalism, Moore’s documentaries frequently utilise his trademark cynical satire to expose a typically controversial subject matter.

Moore, like Broomfield, is a very visible presence in his documentaries, which can thus be described as participatory and performative. His work is highly committed — overtly polemical in taking up a clear point of view, what might be called agit-prop documentary. He justifies his practice in terms of providing ‘balance’ for mainstream media that, in his view, provides false information. Part of Moore’s approach is to use humour, sometimes to lampoon the subject of his work and sometimes to recognise that documentaries need to entertain and hold an audience.

Moore’s work is typically a combination of his aforementioned cynical narration over a variety of archive footage intertwined with present day interviews with relevant authority figures and other noteworthy members of the public. Through this, Moore creates an engaging and unique experience throughout his filmography – often generating a great deal of controversy.

Moore’s films are extremely personal, tackling topics that hold a great deal of significance to him. Films such as Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11 are now cornerstones of the performative documentary genre. Because of this, it is no surprise that Time magazine named Michael Moore as one of the world’s 100 most influential people.

Fahrenheit 9/11 (Michael Moore, 2004)

Fahrenheit 9/11 (Michael Moore, 2004) is a performative documentary written, produced, directed by and starring left-wing political commentator – Michael Moore. The film’s main point of discussion is a critique of the George W. Bush administration’s handling of the September 11 attacks, as well as the proceeding 2003 Iraq war. Alongside this, Moore persistently argues that the media were “cheerleaders” for the war and did not provide an objective or accurate portrayal of the the events that took place.

Throughout the film, Moore narrates over a wide variety of footage, including the 2000 presidential election, the aftermath of 9/11 itself as well as an array of clips from Bush’s many speeches. Moving chronologically through the events, Moore’s commentary remains comedic throughout, which is extremely typical of his style of filmmaking. He jokes satirically at the extremely serious events being presented, with them being predominantly at Bush’s expense. In effect, this makes Michael Moore’s opinion on the subject matter extremely transparent from the get-go, which sets the tone for the duration of the film.

Alongside his cynical commentary, Moore appears in person throughout the documentary in order to interview citizens affected by the topics discussed. This places the film under the performative mode, due to the fact that Moore is personally interacting with the subjects and has a direct impact upon the events.

Fahrenheit 9/11 was received mostly positively by critics, receiving an 82% on Rotten Tomatoes and winning the 2004 Palme d’Or. However, some critics expressed their distaste for the documentary, stating that it was extremely one-sided and “harshly satirical”.

Personally, I found the film to be relatively enjoyable and Moore’s sardonic humour lightened the mood of the extremely harrowing footage presented throughout. However, I have to agree with the consensus that the documentary was extremely biased and only offered a single perspective. In addition to this, I lost interest at certain points throughout the film and found sections of the documentary to be overly convoluted.

Overall, I would rate Fahrenheit 9/11 ★★★.

Night Mail (GPO Film Unit, 1936)

Night Mail (GPO Film Unit, 1936) is a poetic documentary directed by Harry Watt and Basil Wright and produced by the Post Office. Being just under 25 minutes, the film documents the nightly postal train operated by the LMS.

The film follows the process of mail distribution through the ‘Postal Special train’, which exclusively carries post from London to Scotland. The filmmakers use a variety of external shots to exhibit the train’s journey as well as interior shots to display the interactions between the many workers sorting letters.

Although the majority of the film appears to be an observational documentary, the final minutes of the film include a poem by W.H. Auden which is rhythmically narrated by John Grierson and Stuart Legg. In effect, this transforms the mode of the film into a poetic documentary – making Night Mail particularly noteworthy.

Night Mail is considered by many to be the apotheosis of the GPO Film Unit, trailblazing the way for the future of the documentary form. The film was widely acclaimed by contemporary critics and the poem remains popular within the British public.

Personally I found the film to be largely uninteresting for the majority of its duration, offering little in the way of insight and information. However, I found the recital of W.H. Auden’s poem to be relatively intriguing and I believe it to be the part of the film that has aged the best.

Overall, I would rate Night Mail ★★½.

Blackfish (Gabriela Cowperthwaite, 2013)

Blackfish (Gabriela Cowperthwaite, 2013) is an observational documentary centering around the controversy of keeping killer whales in captivity and the psychological damage imbued upon the wales themselves. We follow the orca, Tilikum and his restrictive life at the SeaWorld entertainment centre.

The documentary details Tilikum’s involvement in the deaths of three people at SeaWorld, covering his capture in 1983 and his harassment by fellow captive orcas at the entertainment centre. The film rebukes several claims made by SeaWorld concerning the lifespan of orcas in captivity, stating that killer whales have similar lifespans to humans in their natural habitat. A variety of former SeaWorld trainers are interviewed throughout the film, including John Hargrove who each detail their experiences with Tilikum and the tragedy caused by him as well as other captive whales.

*A former SeaWorld member of staff being interviewed*

The subject of whale captivity is framed in an extremely negative light, reporting that whales undergo utmost stress while in captivity. Alongside this, the separation of the whales’ offspring when captured in the wild adds further insult to injury to the suffering the whales must live through. Cowperthwaite uses a number of interesting techniques throughout the film, such as expressing different viewpoints through the process of interviewing. Additionally, the medium of animation is used to recreate specific court cases as well as to make the process of whale capturing clearer for the viewer to visualise. The narrative of the documentary is relatively nonlinear, jumping between the date of Tilikum’s capture to the deaths of several trainers. This places the narrative in a more immediate position and places the viewer within the context of each situation.

*Tilikum pictured with Dawn Brancheau, one of the wale’s three victims*

The film premiered at the 2013 Sundance Film Festival and was then acquired by Magnolia Pictures and CNN for a wider release. With a Rotten Tomatoes score of 98%, the site states that “Blackfish is an aggressive, impassioned documentary that will change the way you look at performance killer whales.” Alongside this, SeaWorld suffered a $15.9 million loss and attendance declined by 5% in the first 9 months of 2013. This implies that Blackfish had a considerable impact upon the negative decline of SeaWorld as a tourist attraction.

Personally, I enjoyed Blackfish from start to finish. Prior to watching, I had little to no interest in the subject matter of orca captivity but this documentary managed to effectively spread awareness of the issue at hand. In saying this, no specific sequences particularly stood out to me and the documentary felt unnecessarily hard to follow at certain points. I believe that the underlying message that Gabriela Cowperthwaite was trying to convey was the persistent and unnoticed oppression towards killer whales and that the captivity of their species for our entertainment is inherently wrong.

Overall, I would rate Blackfish ★★★★.

Modes of Documentary

Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, stated that every documentary could be categorised under one of six ‘modes’ of documentary, listed and explained below.

Expository Documentary

An expository documentary is the ‘traditional form’ of a documentary film, setting up a specific point of view or argument about a subject matter. The narrator often addresses the viewer directly, establishing the relationship between what is being projected on screen and the accompanying verbal commentary. Examples of an expository documentary include the works of David Attenborough, such as Planet Earth (2006) as well as the feature-length March of the Penguins (Luc Jacquet, 2005).

Observational Documentary

An observational documentary aims to capture fully authentic, day-to-day life with minimal interruption. Also referred to as a ‘fly on the wall’ documentary, the filmmaker is a neutral observer of events – remaining hidden behind the camera at all times. Examples of an observational documentary include High School (Frederick Wiseman, 1968) and The Beatles: Get Back (Peter Jackson, 2021).

Participatory Documentary

Within a participatory documentary, the filmmaker themselves is directly included within the documentary’s narrative, typically onscreen. Their impact upon the recorded events is acknowledged and the filmmaker personally interacts with the documentary’s subjects, with their personality often shining through in the process. Examples of a participatory documentary include Sherman’s March (Ross McElwee, 1985) and The Danube Exodus (Péter Forgács, 1998).

Performative Documentary

A performative documentary focuses on the filmmaker’s involvement with the specific area of documentation that the film is centered around. The filmmaker often inputs their personal experience with the subject in order to explore the larger truth of the matter at hand. Examples of a performative documentary include Supersize Me (Morgan Spurlock, 2004) and the many documentaries of Louis Theroux.

Poetic Documentary

A poetic documentary utilises avant-garde and experimental techniques to evoke a specific emotion within the viewer, avoiding a typical linear narrative. Examples of a poetic documentary include Fata Morgana (Werner Herzog, 1970) and Tongues Untied (Marlon Riggs, 1989).

Reflexive Documentary

Reflexive documentaries are often extremely meta in nature, acknowledging the format of a documentary itself. Often featuring the filmmaker within the film, a reflexive documentary makes no attempt to explore an outside topic but solely focuses on the act of creating a documentary. Examples of a reflexive documentary include Man With a Movie Camera (Dziga Vertov, 1929) and Chronicle of a Summer (Jean Rouch, Edgar Morin, 1961).

Documentaries Defined

The dictionary defines a documentary as a film that “us[es] pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject.”

Realism is a concept that is portrayed throughout both fiction and documentary films. Whereas a fiction film may deviate from complete authenticity throughout its narrative to suit its particular purpose, a documentary film attempts to capture the absolute truth of the subject matter. In effect, a documentary strives to provide a highly informative and educational piece of media for a wide audience to consume.

Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, stated that all films fall into one of two categories of documentary. These include ‘wish fulfilment’ (fiction films) and ‘social representation’ (what we would typically refer to a documentary as). Nichols claims that even the most fictitious work provides an accurate report of the culture and society it was produced under. Alongside this, the actors and physical locations utilised are authentically represented, according to Nichols. On the flip side, Nichols believes that documentaries are often as exciting and dramatic as fiction films and generally less predictable, due to the fact that they draw their subject matter from reality.

With this in mind, it is sometimes difficult to differentiate between these two forms of filmmaking. This is due to many documentaries using a number of dramatic techniques from fiction films to recreate a truthful event in an entertaining manner. Conversely, a fiction film may borrow a variety of techniques utilised throughout documentaries in order to make the events of the film appear to be more authentic and nonfictional.

To reinforce this idea, it is important to establish a scale. On one end of the scale is an entirely fictitious film, produced for the sole purpose of entertainment with no regard for realism or authenticity. On the other end is a ‘pure documentary’ which is entirely nonfictional and produced for the sole purpose of education on a particular subject matter. In between these two extremes is a large grey area, brought to light by Bill Nichols. This area includes a wide variety of aforementioned films, including a seemingly fictional dramatisation of truthful events as well as an entirely fictional narrative which purports a sense of authenticity, due to the techniques employed by the filmmakers.

Fiction or documentary?

There are a wide variety of differences between a typical ‘fiction film’ and a feature length documentary film. In the table below, I have listed the main discrepancies between the two types of film, centering around a key aspect of filmmaking in each point.

Fiction Films

Mise-en-scène (locations, props, costumes, etc) can be real (shot on location) or “faked” in a studio.

Characters’ dialogue and actions are pre-conceptualised by a screenwriter and usually played by an actor.

Professional equipment is used throughout (such as dollies, rigs, Steadicam etc.) to fully immerse the viewer within the fictional world of the film. The equipment is invisible to the viewer.

The filmmaker typically has an ambitious creative vision for what their film will entail, often disregarding a sense of reality. They are behind-the-scenes and invisible to the viewer.

The narrative’s structure, dialogue and events are preconceived and conceptualised in a fictional manner.

Often attempt to attract the largest possible audience. The viewer accepts the artificial and fictitious nature.

Typically has a larger budget, due to the requirement for more expensive equipment.

Documentary Films

Mise-en-scène is found in real life.

Documentary films do not contain characters, only real people and events are portrayed throughout – the dialogue appears to be genuine.

Bare minimum equipment (handheld camera, tripod etc.) is typically used to create a sense of authenticity.

The filmmaker attempts to capture the most accurate reality possible in a documentary, often displaying the crew behind the scenes. The filmmaker often appears in the documentary, sometimes even being the focus.

The narrative events unfold in real time, the filmmakers often do not plan the documentary in advance.

Often attract a niche audience, the viewer expects truthfulness and transparency.

Typically has a smaller budget, as expensive equipment is not needed.

Component 2b: Documentary Film

The second component we are studying is Component 2b: Documentary Film. This section of the course entails one film of study, being Sisters in Law (Kim Longinotto, 2005). Throughout this component, the areas of study are the core study areas (including the key elements, contexts, aesthetics and representation) as well as two specialist study areas. These include critical debates, particularly discussing the use of digital technology within documentaries, as well as examples of filmmakers’ theories, such as the ideologies of Bill Nichols.

Wild Tales: Representations

How far do each of the films you have studied represent key characters in ways that reinforce or challenge the audience’s expectations?
Autumn 2020

Introduction:

Throughout the “Wedding Sequence” of the film, characters such as Romina and Ariel are represented in ways that reinforce stereotypical gender roles. As well as this, characters are used to represent the underlying theme of superficiality that is reinforced throughout the tale. In order to do this, Szifron implements the key elements of film form in a variety of ways to reinforce the characters in ways that both challenge and reinforce the viewer’s expectations.

Cinematography:

Young Romina (frame within frame), various two-shots and long shots of well-dressed guests,

Single shot tracks couple, centrally framed Romina, photo frame, pushes into Romina’s changing expression, zoom in on Lourdes, Romina isolated in frame (harsh lighting), mirror shot

Focus pulls, centrally framed imposing shot

Tight focus on couple, shallow depth of field, shot/reverse shots (unsynchronised), Dutch angle

POV shot of distraught guests, unflattering low-angle, handheld camera, birds-eye-view

Low-angle of Romina (upper hand), wide shot of chef, handheld camera displays unhinged guests, two-shots create desperation

Sound:

Titanium

Ringing phone, dialogue, breathing

Blue Danube juxtaposes Romina’s state of mind, rises as they touch hands

Lighting and wind (pathetic fallacy),

Dramatic score, exclusive diegetic sound later on, gunshot tease

Mise-en-scène:

Red curtain, stereotypical bride and groom outfit, immaculate hair, scruffy Ariel

Lourdes’ dress, Romina disheveled appearance

Green lighting, pathetic fallacy

Romina at most disheveled, blood on dress

Hollow motions, removal of hair extension

Editing:

Parallel editing (couple face opposite directions)

Longer focus on Romina

Shot/reverse shot between Romina and chef, glance object, alternating edit, cross cutting

Performance:

Superficial happiness, over-zealousness foreshadows infidelity, artificial friendly gestures between guests

Women scream, men act boisterously, Ariel looks at camera

Ostensible smiles, Romina’s fake smile, Facebook, jealousy seed

Ariel acts flirtatiously, mirror assessment, alcohol, Ariel’s darting eyes

Trembling voice, anger, throwing up

Artificially calm, sarcasm, Ariel’s true emotions – speaks genuinely

Essay – Version 1

The sequence begins with a projected closeup of a young Romina, creating a centrally positioned frame within a frame. This establishes Romina as the central protagonist and subtly focuses the viewer‘s attention onto her throughout the duration of the tale. Afterwards, we cut to a two shot of a wealthy couple at a table, displaying the light-heartedness of the event and reinforcing the viewer’s expectations of an opulent wedding. The diegetic compiled score, Titanium, further lightens the mood and pulsates throughout the reception. Being representative of strength and overcoming hardships, the carefully selected song choice ironically foreshadows Romina’s unpredictable actions. This ultimately challenges the viewer’s preconceived expectations of a grand wedding.

Romina and Ariel enter the reception through theatrical red curtain, which subtly suggests to the viewer that their relationship is merely a façade – challenging their expectations. Romina’s current purity is represented by a stereotypical white wedding dress and immaculate, whereas Ariel’s uncaring demeanour is represented through his scruffy, unshaven appearance. This perhaps reinforces the viewer’s expectations of a wedding being a ‘more feminine’ event.

As a single tracking shot follows the couple backwards, Romina is centrally framed which reinforces her as the protagonist. During this, the couple put on an extremely over-zealous façade by smiling and waving at each of the affluent guests they pass by. This suggests and foreshadows the couple’s infidelity towards each other, challenging the viewer’s expectations. As the two separate to join their respective friends and families, an example of parallel editing is implemented, reinforcing their distant relationship. To further accentuate this, the couple face opposing directions between the parallel edits. During the dance floor scene, the guests conform to stereotypical gender roles. The groups of women scream while the men act boisterously, which reinforces the viewer’s expectations of male and female stereotypes. As we see the setting from the camera’s perspective, Ariel looks directly at the camera which emphasises his artificial demeanour.

We then cut to a wide shot of the guests framed like a photo, during which each of the guests smile ostensibly – suggesting that no one truly wishes to attend. Alongside this, Romina also fakes a smile as she converses with one of the guests, clearly demonstrating her disinterest towards the conversation. The topic of Facebook is often mentioned throughout the conversation, reinforcing the superficiality the wedding represents.

As Romina begins to notice someone in the reception that she doesn’t know, the camera pushes into Romina’s changing expression to display her confusion. In response to this, the camera proceeds to zoom into the unknown woman as Ariel leans over to flirtatiously converse with Lourdes – foreshadowing their secret relationship. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo, attributing a sense of elegance and mystery to her character. As Romina’s heavy breathing rises in the mix, she briefly assesses herself in the mirror. This suggests to the viewer that Romina is questioning her own identity. After she learns the truth, Romina resorts to alcohol as a coping mechanism to recover from her distraught state of mind. This challenges the viewer’s expectations of what typically occurs at a wedding and raises the tension of the scene.

As Ariel and Romina begin to dance, the camera remains tightly focused on the couple in order to keep the viewer’s attention focused exclusively on the couple. The depth of field is extremely shallow to reinforce this. A sequence of shot/reverse shots occur as one person reacts to what the other is saying, informing the viewer of their respective state of minds. We also spend a longer amount of time focused on Romina, positioning the viewer to empathise with the protagonist to a higher degree. The implementation of a typically romantic complied score, The Blue Danube, ironically juxtaposes Romina’s chaotic state of mind, rising in the mix as the couple touches hands. After the heated conversation concludes, a Dutch angle is used to display Romina angrily storming off – signifying that her world is falling apart. In response to this, Ariel’s eyes dart around the room which implies that he is still attempting to maintain his reputable persona – challenging the viewer’s prior expectation of him as an uncaring groom.

Following this, there is a POV shot from Ariel’s perspective which displays an array of distraught guests, demonstrating their unfiltered emotions. As Romina heads for the roof, an unflattering low-angle shot of Romina tracks her unpredictable movements, exemplifying her anxiety. Her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined, reinforcing her raw emotions. A handheld camera is also used to illustrate Ariel’s distress as he pursues her.

As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. The pace of editing proceeds to slow to a halt as the chef offers his advice to Romina, incorporating a shot/reverse shot sequence between the pair. Ariel continues to run up the stairs to pursue Romina, during which the walls are illuminated with green lighting which is representative of the characters’ jealousy towards one another. During the confrontation, the narrative device of pathetic fallacy is utilised, incorporating thunder and lightning into the setting which is reflective of Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel. Romina’s unhinged anger is further accentuated by an edit that alternates between an over-the-shoulder shot which displays Romina’s full figure, a three-quarter closeup of Romina as well as a reactionary shot of Ariel.

Afterwards, a low-angle shot of Romina displays her striding into the ballroom as a dramatic score emphatically enters the mix, informing the viewer that she has gained the upper hand. She remains artificially calm in order to maintain her façade of perfection. Alongside this, a wide shot demonstrates the chef’s humiliation as word of the rooftop events begin to spread. Here, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged and the blood on her dress symbolises that her prior purity is eradicated. The removal of her hair extension represents her final stage of degeneration, challenging the viewer’s initial expectation of her. Finally, the sound becomes exclusively diegetic to underpin the sincerity of Ariel’s consoling words towards Romina. He speaks transparently and genuinely, indicating to the viewer that his persona of perfection has finally been abolished.

In conclusion, Damián Szifron aptly utilises the key elements of film form throughout the wedding sequence in order to represent the characters in ways that both challenge and reinforce the viewer’s preconceived expectations. These include the presentation of stereotypical gender roles as well as the exposure of the superficial façades the characters possess.

Wild Tales: Aesthetics

Discuss how aesthetics are used to communicate themes in your two chosen films. Make detailed reference to particular sequences in your answer.
Summer 2019

Introduction:

Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, catharsis and vengeance. The aesthetic of my chosen sequence, The Wedding, is one of opulence and superficiality. Szifron illustrates this to the viewer through a wide variety of techniques, aptly incorporating the key elements of film form to communicate the aforementioned themes.

Sequence: Wedding Sequence

Cinematography:

Various shots of guests (two-shot, crabbing), long shot displays chandeliers, handheld camera, theatrical entryway

Single tracking shot, joyful glide, tuba closeups, multiple cameras, photo framing

Harsh lighting on Romina (vengeful), mirror shot, Low-angle imposing shot of Romina

Shallow depth of field, Dutch angle, disorienting door attachment, frontal low angle shot, more handheld

Birds-eye-view of building, shallow depth of field, romantic lighting juxtaposition

Shaky camera movements, harsh lighting juxtaposes prior opulence, more Dutch angles display chaos

Camera rig creates dizziness, two shots create desperation

Sound:

Titanium

Traditional upbeat music

Blue Danube

Mise-en-scène:

Red background, flashing lights, smoke machines, golden chandeliers, disco balls

Theatrical red curtain, pure white wedding dress, Romina’s immaculate hair, Ariel’s scruffy appearance

Lourdes’ mysterious appearance, Romina’s disheveled appearance

Green walls, pathetic fallacy

Smashed mirror, blood on dress, unkempt guests

Enacting motions of wedding, removal of hair extension

Editing:

Slideshow cut to beat, parallel editing (opposing directions)

Pace of editing quickens, fake camera interface, lower quality stock

Jump cuts, door matches end of score, parallel editing

Slow pace during roof scene, glance object on shoe, alternating edit during anger, cross cutting

Essay – Version 1

Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, superficiality and danger. The aesthetic of my chosen sequence, The Wedding, is one of opulence and artifice. Szifron illustrates this to the viewer through a wide variety of techniques, aptly incorporating the key elements of film form to communicate the aforementioned themes.

The opening shot of the sequence displays a projected closeup image of Romina with a red background, signifying the later danger and peril of the wedding. The diegetic compiled score (Titanium) lightens the mood of the wedding and persistently pulsates throughout the reception, matching the speed of the slideshow. The song is representative of strength and overcoming hardships, ironically foreshadowing the later cathartic events of the wedding. The pace of editing quickens as the excitement builds towards the chorus of the song, with the frequency of cuts increasing. The camera then cuts to various two shots and crab shots of a multitude of wealthy guests enjoying themselves, reinforcing the opulent atmosphere the wedding presents to the viewer.

Throughout this, a wide variety of luxurious objects can be seen in the frame. These include flashing lights, smoke machines as well as an array of disco balls and golden chandeliers – all of which purport a sense of superficiality. The bride and groom enter the reception from behind a theatrical red curtain, suggesting that their relationship is merely a façade which reinforces the underlying theme of artificiality. Romina sports a stereotypically designed white wedding dress and veil, symbolising her current purity. Her hair is is also meticulously immaculate – both of these physical aspects become increasingly unkempt as the intensity of the situation increases. Conversely, Ariel’s appearance is relatively scruffy – he is unshaven on his wedding day, implying to the viewer that the wedding is unimportant to him.

A single tracking shot is used to follow the movements of the couple backwards, establishing them as the centre of the viewer’s attention. In addition to this, the camera begins to joyfully glide as the couple begins to dance, keeping Romina centrally framed and reinforcing the luxurious aesthetic of the wedding. Titanium is then interrupted by a live ensemble playing traditional, upbeat music in order to appropriately accompany the energetic atmosphere of the reception. The use of a multitude of cameras to focus on closeups of the instruments emphasises the superficially jovial atmosphere of the wedding. To further reinforce this, a fake camera interface is placed over the screen in tandem with a lower quality film stock in order to purport a sense of authenticity.

As Romina notices a unknown woman within the reception, the camera proceeds to zoom into Lourdes, the mysterious woman. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo – this distinctively elegant appearance hints to the viewer that she holds a great deal of importance to the story. Romina then becomes isolated in the frame as the lighting is harshly distributed upon her, reflecting her uncertain state of mind. To further reinforce this, the camera proceeds to track Romina, coming to rest on a mirror shot which implies a sense of self-questioning. After a variety of aptly implemented focus pulls, Szifron cuts back to a low-angle shot of a centrally-framed Romina which portrays her as extremely imposing.

As the newly wed couple begins to dance, the diegetic compiled score, The Blue Danube, enters the mix. The piece is reminiscent of a traditional wedding atmosphere but is also present in the likes of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, instilling an ominous feeling within the viewer. As the couple touches hands, the dynamics of the score increase to heighten the tension of the situation. Afterwards, a disorienting Dutch angle displays Romina runs away from the reception during which her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined which reinforces the chaotic havoc of the wedding.

As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. A shallow depth of field is implemented during this scene to draw the viewer’s focus onto Romina alone. As the conversation between the chef and Romina ensues, a long shot is used to allow the chef to deliver his advice which slows the pace of the edit to a halt. There is also stark juxtaposition between the typical romantic aesthetic of the setting and the hectic events taking place.

As Ariel runs up the stairs to pursue Romina, the walls are illuminated with green lighting which symbolises the theme jealousy and betrayal presented throughout the sequence. In addition to this, Szifron utilises the narrative device of pathetic fallacy during the rooftop scene, incorporating thunder and lighting into the setting which reflects Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel.

As we re-enter the ballroom, the camera movements become increasingly shaky to emphasise the chaotic atmosphere. The lighting is also extremely harsh which juxtaposes the previously established opulence of the reception. Alongside this, a multitude of Dutch angle tracking shots are implemented to illustrate the discombobulating chaos that is occurring. Romina then grabs Lourdes and the two begin to rapidly spin in circles. To convey the dizziness to the viewer, a camera rig is attached to the pair’s backs which is reflective of the tumultuous mood of the wedding.

As Romina throws Lourdes into the mirror, the appearance of smashed mirror heightens the utter pandemonium of the wedding. At this point, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged which reinforces that this is the peak of turmoil. The removal of Romina’s hair extension represents her final stage of degeneration, encapsulating the themes of revenge and danger. Blood on her dress symbolises that Romina’s prior purity is abolished. Through this, the initial opulent atmosphere of the wedding is starkly contrasted.

In conclusion, Damián Szifron aptly utilises the key elements of film form throughout the wedding sequence of Wild Tales in order to create an opulent and superficial aesthetic. Through this, the underlying themes of revenge, betrayal and danger are astutely communicated to the viewer and an appropriately memorable experience is created.

Wild Tales: “Wedding sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “Wedding sequence” of Wild Tales (01:25:10-end). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

The tale begins with a projected closeup image of a young Romina, establishing a centrally positioned frame within a frame. The camera then pulls out to reveal a slideshow of images being played in a luxurious wedding reception. Afterwards, we cut to a two shot of a couple at a table, displaying the light-heartedness of the event. The camera then crabs right in order to display a multitude of well-dressed guests which reinforces the opulence of the wedding reception.

A proceeding long shot displays the vast room, exhibiting the luxuriant chandeliers and other grandiose decor. We proceed to cut to various shots of the many guests enjoying themselves. As we cut to a long shot of the DJ, a handheld camera is employed in order to fluidly arc through the smoke to reposition the frame. Through this, the viewer is brought in closer to a newly-created theatrical entryway for the couple to arrive through.

A single shot is used to track the movements of the couple backwards, establishing them as the centre of attention. In addition to this, the camera begins to joyfully glide as the couple begins to dance. Throughout this, Romina is centrally framed which reinforces her as the protagonist of this tale. During the dance sequence, there are closeups of the instruments such as the tuba to emphasises the jovial atmosphere of the wedding. Alongside this, the use of multiple cameras emphasises the artificiality of the event. After an abrupt jump cut, the next shot of the guests is framed like a photo to reinforce the superficiality of the wedding.

As Romina begins to notice someone in the reception that she doesn’t know, the camera pushes into Romina’s changing expression to display her confusion. In response to this, the camera proceeds to zoom in to the unknown woman. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Romina then becomes isolated in frame as the lighting is harshly distributed upon her, which is reflective of her uncertain state of mind. To further reinforce this, the camera then follows Romina and comes to rest on a mirror shot which implies that she is questioning her own identity.

Szifron then implements two focus pulls from Romina to the young woman (Lourdes) as she answers her phone, which appropriately focuses the viewer’s attention. The camera then arcs into an over-the-shoulder shot in order to face Lourdes. Through this, another pair of focus pulls are employed to display Lourdes answering her phone for the second time from both perspectives. We then cut back to a low-angle shot of a centrally-framed Romina which portrays her as imposing.

Following this, there is a POV shot from Ariel’s perspective which displays an array of distraught guests. As he opens the door to the kitchen, the camera is fastened to the door which positions the viewer in a disorienting position. A low-angle shot tracks Romina, underlying her anxiety. This is reinforced when we cut to an unflattering angle of Romina, displaying her from a frontal low angle which exemplifies her raw emotions. As Ariel pursues her, he is filmed with a handheld camera to illustrate his distress.

As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. Another shallow depth of field is implemented during this scene to draw the viewer’s focus onto Romina alone. As the conversation between the chef and Romina ensues, a long shot is used to allow the chef to deliver his advice. There is also stark juxtaposition between the typical romantic lighting of the setting and the hectic events taking place.

As we re-enter the ballroom, the camera movements become increasingly shaky to emphasises the chaotic atmosphere. The lighting is also extremely harsh which juxtaposes the previously established opulence of the reception. A low-angle shot depicts Romina striding towards the camera which informs us that she has regained the upper hand. Alongside this, a wide shot demonstrates the chef’s humiliation as word begins to spread. A multitude of Dutch angle tracking shots are implemented to illustrate the discombobulating chaos that is occurring.

Romina then grabs Lourdes and the two begin to rapidly spin in circles. To convey the dizziness to the viewer, a camera rig is attached to the pair’s backs which is reflective of the tumultuous mood of the wedding. As Lourdes crashes into the mirror a low-angle shot depicts the aftermath, followed by a two shot of Ariel’s parents. At this point, the previously used Steadicam is replaced with an unsteady handheld camera, which proceeds to move around the room and come to rest on Lourdes. Finally, as Ariel confronts Romina, a series of two shots creates a sense of desperation as opposed to the prior romantic tone.

Sound

The tale begins with the implementation of the diegetic compiled score Titanium by David Guetta. The apt use of this upbeat pop song lightens the mood of the wedding and persistently pulsates throughout the reception. The song is representative of strength and overcoming hardships which foreshadows the extremely ironic events of the wedding. The scene is directed with the specific song choice in mind due to the meticulous synchronisation between the action on screen and the phrasing of the song. For example, as the bridge of the song is reached, the guests are waiting in anticipation for the couple to enter through the theatrical red curtain.

Titanium is then interrupted by an ensemble playing traditionally Argentine upbeat music to accompany the dancing. As the lively energy of the reception increases, the diegetic composed score appropriately accompanies the atmosphere. Afterwards, as Romina attempts to phone Lourdes, the ringing phone enters the mix. Alongside this, we see the conversation from Romina’s perspective but hear the diegetic dialogue as if we were close to Lourdes. Romina’s breathing gradually rises in the mix as she realises what her husband has done.

As the newlywed couple begins to dance, The Blue Danube begins to play which is reminiscent of a traditional wedding atmosphere. This specific piece is also present in the likes of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, this ominous connection potentially creates a feeling of unease within the viewer. This romantic score ironically juxtaposes Romina’s chaotic state of mind. Additionally, the score rises in the mix as the couple touches hands which heightens the tension.

During the rooftop scene with Romina and the chef, the muted city ambience can be heard during the pensive conversation between the two. In stark juxtaposition, the dynamic diegetic sounds of lighting and wind loudly enters the mix as Romina unleashes her anger upon Ariel.

A dramatic score is layered in the mix as Romina storms back into the reception, reflecting her exasperated state of mind. The sound also becomes exclusively diegetic to accentuate the emotion of the poignant scenes later on. Finally, a theatrical ‘gunshot-like’ sound play as Ariel opens the champagne bottle which teases the viewer into believing a gun has been fired until the bottle is revealed.

Mise-en-scène

During the initial projected closeup of young Romina, the background of the image is red – signifying the later danger and peril of the wedding. A variety of luxurious objects reinforce the opulence of the wedding, including the flashing lights and smoke machines. A number of large, golden chandeliers as well as an array of disco balls reinforce the superficial happiness and extravagance the wedding purports.

The bride and groom enter the reception from behind a theatrical red curtain, suggesting that their relationship is merely a façade. Romina sports a stereotypically designed white wedding dress and veil, implying Romina’s current purity. Romina’s hair is also meticulously immaculate – both of which become increasingly unkempt as the intensity of the situation increases. Ariel’s appearance is relatively scruffy, being unshaven which implies that the wedding is unimportant to him.

Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo. Her distinctive appearance hints to the viewer that she holds a great deal of importance to the story. Her black dress attributes a sense of elegance and prestigiousness to her character. As Romina runs away from the reception, her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined, reinforcing the chaotic havoc of the wedding

As Ariel runs up the stairs to pursue Romina, the walls are illuminated with green lighting which is symbolic of Romina’s jealousy. During the rooftop scene, the narrative device of pathetic fallacy is utilised, incorporating thunder and lightning into the setting which is reflective of Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel.

As Romina throws Lourdes into the mirror, the appearance of smashed mirror heightens the utter pandemonium of the wedding. At this point, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged which reinforces that this is the peak of turmoil. The blood on her dress suggests that her prior purity is abolished. The initial opulent atmosphere is contrasted by a multitude of unkempt guests and broken glass.

During the final moments of the tale, Romina attempts to enact the motions of a traditional Argentine wedding ceremony. However, there is a sense of hollowness and superficiality as the rings are pulled from the wedding cake, suggesting that Romina can never return to normality. Finally Romina removes her hair extension, which is representative of her final stage of degeneration.

Editing

The initial slideshow of the wedding is cut to the beat of Titanium, suggesting that the wedding has been meticulously planned beforehand. An example of parallel editing is incorporated between Ariel and Romina as they separate to join their respective friends and families, reinforcing their distant relationship. To further accentuate this, the couple face opposing directions between the parallel edits.

The pace of editing quickens as the excitement builds and the chorus of the song is reached with more frequent cuts being implemented throughout. A wide variety of cameras are used to reinforce the superficiality of the wedding. A fake camera interface is placed over the screen, alongside the utilisation of a lower quality film stock to purport a sense of authenticity.

A pair of jump cuts are used to display the passage of time between the Titanium sequence and the traditional Argentine ensemble, as well as to the photograph being taken afterwards. As the confrontation between the couple occurs, we spend a longer amount of time focused on Romina than Ariel, which positions the viewer to empathise with her to a higher degree. Romina then runs away from the scene, during which the sound of door closing aptly matches the cadence of the score. Another example of parallel editing is used as the couple separate.

The pace of editing slows as the chef offers his advice to Romina, the only cuts are part of a shot/reverse shot sequence between the pair. During Ariel’s pursuit, there is a glance object between him and Romina’s lone shoe which appropriately focuses the viewer’s attention towards it. As Romina unleashes her anger upon Ariel, the edit alternates between an over-the-shoulder shot which displays Romina’s full figure, a three-quarter closeup of Romina as well as a reactionary shot of Ariel. As we re-enter the reception, Szifron cross cuts to portray Romina’s enjoyment of the party and Ariel’s discontentment. Finally, another example of cross cutting is implemented to display a passage of time after the mirror is smashed.

Performance

As the couple initially enters the reception, they appear to be superficially happy. Both put on an extremely over-zealous performance by smiling and waving at each guest they pass by without looking at each other. This suggests and foreshadows their infidelity towards one another. Each of the guests are smiling and make friendly gestures towards each other, establishing an uncomfortably positive atmosphere.

During the dance floor scene, the guests conform to stereotypical gender roles. The groups of women scream while the men act boisterously. As we see the setting from the camera’s perspective, Ariel looks directly at the camera which emphasises his artificial demeanour.

As we cut to the scene of the photo being taken, each of the guests smile ostensibly which suggests that no one truly wants to be there. Alongside this, Romina also fakes a smile as she converses with one of the guests, clearly demonstrating her disinterest towards the conversation. The topic of Facebook is often mentioned throughout the conversation, reinforcing the theme of superficiality presented throughout the tale. In response to this, the woman attempts to initiate a conflict by sowing the seed of jealousy within Romina by making subtle reference to the many other guests in the reception.

As Romina scrutinises Lourdes’ behaviour, Ariel leans over the young woman and addresses her flirtatiously which foreshadows their secret relationship to the viewer. During Romina’s scheme to discern Lourdes’ identity, she briefly assesses herself in the mirror. This suggests to the viewer that Romina is questioning her own identity. After she learns the truth, Romina resorts to alcohol as a coping mechanism to recover from her distraught state of mind. During the confrontation between the couple as they dance, Ariel’s eyes dart around the room which emphasises to the viewer that he is still attempting to maintain his untarnished persona.

During the roof scene, Romina’s voice begins to tremble as she confides within the cook which informs the viewer of her vulnerability. In stark juxtaposition, Romina unleashes the full force of her anger upon Ariel, who reacts by throwing up. This emphasises his utter shock and disgust towards the situation.

As she re-enters the ballroom, Romina remains artificially calm in order to maintain her façade. She addresses Lourdes in a sarcastic, over-friendly manner to reinforce her suppressed rage towards her husband. She remains in complete control of the situation, commanding the DJ and disorienting Ariel off of his feet. Through this, Ariel’s true emotions are displayed to the viewer – his priority of maintaining a reputable appearance is lost. Finally, as Ariel attempts to console Romina for the final time, he speaks transparently and genuinely – indicating to the viewer that the persona of perfection is finally abolished.

Wild Tales Contextualised

Spoilers for Wild Tales.

1. Define a portmanteau film. What are other notable examples from recent years?

A portmanteau film (also known as an anthology film) is a sub genre of film which consists of several short films that are often intertwined by a thematic concept, premise or overlapping event. Arguably the most famous example of a portmanteau film is Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) which fluidly intertwines its parallel narratives into an enthralling non-linear story. An anthology film released recently is The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson, 2021) which follows three different storylines which revolve around a French newspaper company releasing its final issue.

2. Give a brief synopsis of each of the stories in the film. Which are the most effective? Why do you think these stories have been chosen?

“Pasternak”: Every passenger on a plane realises that they all have a negative connection to a man named Gabriel Pasternak, who happens to be the pilot. They soon learn that the flight was a setup and that Pasternak has locked himself in the cockpit. Pasternak then crashes the plane into his parents’ house, committing the ultimate kamikaze.

“Las ratas” (The Rats): A waitress recognises a loan shark at a restaurant as the man who is responsible for her father’s death. The older chef offers to mix rat poison into the man’s food and proceeds to do so without informing the waitress. The mobster’s teenage son arrives and begins to share the poisoned meal with his dad. After the waitress attempts to take the food away, the loan shark begins to attack her until the older chef stabs him with a chef’s knife. The tale ends with the son receiving medical treatment with an ambulance as the chef is arrested and driven away.

“El más fuerte” (The Strongest): A smartly dressed man is driving through the desert and attempts to overtake an older car that persistently blocks his path. He insults the rugged, burly driver as he overtakes him. The businessman’s tyre then gets punctured as the burly man soon catches up. He proceeds to smash the businessman’s windshield as well as defecate and urinate on it. A hectic brawl then ensues between the two men which results in both of them being blown up. The police mistakes the two for lovers who died in a crime of passion.

“Bombita” (Little Bomb): A demolition expert discovers that his car has been towed away after collecting a cake for her daughter’s birthday. Angry with the fact that the road was unlabelled, he reluctantly pays the fee. The next day, his appeal at at the DMV is rejected and he attacks the glass. He hatches a plan to deliberately get his car, now planted with explosives, towed away in order to destroy the towing office with no casualties. He is imprisoned and the engineer soon becomes a local hero, being dubbed “Bombita” and instantly beloved by the prisoners.

“La propuesta” (The Proposal): A teenage son of a wealthy family arrives home after committing a hit-and-run on a pregnant woman. The parents settle a deal with their lawyer to have their faithful groundskeeper take the blame for $500,000. The local prosecutor subsequently sees through this plan and the lawyer attempts to renegotiate. The father calls off the deal and tells his son to confess to the media. The lawyer and father finally agree on a lower price. Finally, as the groundskeeper is taken away by the police, the dead woman’s husband repeatedly strikes his head with a hammer.

“Hasta que la muerte nos separe” (Till Death Do Us Part): At a wedding, the bride soon discovers that her groom has cheated on her with one of the guests. In utter distress, she confronts him during their first dance and soon runs away to the roof. As the groom finds her on the roof, he discovers her having sex with a kitchen worker. Chaos ensues, as the bride slams the woman her husband cheated on into a mirror. A brawl emerges between the groom’s mother and the bride collapses. The couple then resolves their differences and make love by the wedding cake.

I personally believe that the most effective tale is the third tale, “El más fuerte” as it aptly builds tension and suspense through various ways and ultimately ends in an extremely satisfying manner. The six stories are inspired by the pressures of Argentinian modern-life, and four are based on real life experiences of the director, Damián Szifron.

3. The literal translation of the title is Savage Tales. How is this a more appropriate title and how well does it apply to each of the stories in the film?

The six “deadly stories of revenge” all concern members of modern society who reach breaking point and unleash their primitive instincts upon the world. The adjective “savage” has connotations of being undomesticated and feral. Therefore, “Savage Tales” can be considered to be a more appropriate title for the film.

4. Explain the title sequence — how is it an appropriate choice for the tone, message and aesthetics of the film?

The title sequence depicts a variety of ‘wild’ animals, such as an eagle, shark and tiger thriving in their natural habitats. Accompanied by a composed score by Gustavo Santaollala, the title sequence symbolically reflects the primitive nature of the characters throughout the six tales.

5. What does the viewer learn about Argentine society from watching the film? Does this accurately reflect the political and social reality?

Throughout the film, it becomes clear that the film presents an Argentine society in which individuals persistently attempt to rebel against disagreeable social constructs. This stance presented by Szifron relates to the 1974 ‘Dirty War’ of Argentina in which a military junta led by Gen Jorge Videla seized control of the country. This led to around 30,000 terrorist-related deaths.

6. Are there aesthetic differences between each of the stories? How do the aesthetics support the story being told?

An over-arching aesthetic motif that emanates throughout the film is the juxtaposition between the mundanity of the characters’ lives and the extreme violence presented in each of the six tales. The abuse of power displayed in each tale varies, ranging from the pilot of a plane full of passengers to a notoriously powerful loan shark.

7. Are there any notable similarities or differences in the representations of men and women, rich and poor?

In tales such as “El más fuerte” the differentiation between the rich and poor is made explicitly clear through the use of mise-en-scène. The wealthier man drives an expensive new car and wears an elegant suit and sunglasses, subtly informing the viewer of his social class. Conversely, the poorer man drives a well-used car and wears cheaper clothes, including a basic shirt and cargo trousers to indicate his lower place in society.

The social divide between men and women are also presented in a similar way. Throughout the film, men hold highly prestigious jobs such as pilots, lawyers and engineers. On the contrary, women hold more domestic positions, such as cooks and waitresses.

Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014)

Each tale varies in length, setting and narrative. These include a plane hijacking, an attempted poisoning, a discontented engineer, a hit and run and an extremely chaotic wedding. The plots are told through a variety of interesting narrative techniques, prioritising the “show don’t tell” cornerstone of storytelling throughout each of the tales. I also noticed that the lighting of each of the tales seemed oddly vibrant and superficial which emphasises the grandiose theatricality of each of the stories.

The stories themselves each follow a similar narrative structure, gradually introducing the concept and characters through subtle pieces of information which ultimately builds to a dramatic crescendo. Information is deliberately hidden from the viewer in order to create an immensely satisfying conclusion within each of the six tales.

*“Haste que la muerte nos* *separ*e” (Till Death Do Us Part)

Four of the six stories were partially based on real-life situations director Damián Szifron experienced throughout his life. After its release, the film received a large amount of critical acclaim, exemplifying the portmanteau genre attempted to great success. The film received a number of accolades, including the BAFTA Award for Best Film Not in the English Language.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed Wild Tales from start to finish. I was fully engaged within each of the six stories and although I definitely preferred some of the tales to others, each had something new to bring to the table. Unfortunately, I thought that some stories ended prematurely and in an unsatisfying manner but this did not detract from my overall enjoyment of the film.

My personal favourite of the tales was the third story: “El más fuerte” (The Strongest) as I was utterly enthralled by its simple but gripping narrative. Each action that occurs within this story is just as unpredictable as the last and I was kept on edge for the entire duration of the narrative.

I believe that Szifron’s main message conveyed throughout the film is that revenge is not always the correct course of action. Throughout each tale, Szifron demonstrates to the viewer that the act of vengeance often provokes the animalistic impulses within our instinctive human nature, and often leads to violence and destruction.

Overall, I would rate Wild Tales ★★★★.

Pan’s Labyrinth: Representations

How far do each of the films you have studied represent key characters in ways that reinforce or challenge the audience’s expectations?
Autumn 2020

Introduction

Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film. Being a passion project of the director, it is set in the summer of 1944 – five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the fascist regime, the Falangists, still emanates throughout Spain during their pursuit of the Spanish Maquis rebel forces through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.

Characters such as Ofelia and Mercedes are representative of the hope and disobedience initiated by the Maquis rebel force. Conversely, Captain Vidal is the figurehead of the Falangist fascist regime and he is represented in ways reflective of an authoritarian society throughout the film.

Sequence 1 – Fig Tree Sequence

Cinematography:

Wide shots of soldiers, panning left to right, tracking (eye-level), tree framing (dwarfing Ofelia, shrouded in darkness), shoe closeup.

Low-angle long shot, central framing – obscured by lighting, silhouette is juxtaposed by particle fairies, mid shots push into Ofelia, crabs right to transition.

Tilt up from Vidal’s shoes, camera arcs as he shouts, lowering crane shot displays the rebellion.

Closeups of Ofelia, pushes in on key, closeup of Ofelia holding it focuses attention, pedestals up as she retrieves clothes, centrally framed during rain.

Sound:

Patriotic score, shouting soldiers, bucolic Ofelia score, stab chords, Vidal shouts, hopeful Ofelia score, high pitched key sound, rain pathetic fallacy

Mise-en-scène:

Juxtaposition between palette and uniform, traditional fairytale clothing and book, uterine tree, decorated uniform, hidden rebels less well-dressed (framing and posture)

Muddy face, pathway reflects disorientation, mysterious key, toad’s death metaphor, pathetic fallacy

Editing:

Cross cutting, hidden cut, parallel editing

Layered narration, immersive long takes, slow pace, more hidden cuts

Glance object (subjectivity), pacing quickens, hidden cuts

Fluid movements, glance object shows Ofelia’s resolve (POV)

Performance:

Ardent soldiers, immersed in fairytale, explorative nature

Vidal stern expression + measured demeanour, subservience represents hierarchy, hand gesture, booming masculine voice

Ofelia heavy breathing, addresses toad as human, doesn’t cower

Sequence 2 – First Shaving Sequence

Cinematography:

Tracks Vidal as he picks up blade, tilt to face, mid to long shot, arcs around to mid-closeup of shaving cream, uncomfortable closeup, mechanical lair, warmer lighting during Mercedes scene, pedestal up to portray Vidal’s power, claustrophobia

Sound:

Gramophone patriotism, cutthroat blade, sharp sound, matador fanfare

Mise-en-scène:

Luxury items, razor blade reflects Vidal, cluttered desk, mechanical imagery, decorated uniform, Pale Man room

Editing:

Glance object focuses on razor, fast pacing matches the tempo of music

Performance:

Precise + fluid movements, ritualistic, moves meticulously, unnecessary shaving, Mercedes acts as a mother figure

Essay – Version 1

It could be stated that Ofelia’s character is formed from the typical ‘protagonist archetype’ established through storytelling, reinforcing the viewer’s expectations. Conversely, Ofelia is also representative of the hope and disobedience initiated by the Maquis rebel force, which ultimately challenges the viewer’s expectations. Captain Vidal is the antagonistic figurehead of the Falangist fascist regime and he is represented in ways reflective of an oppressive, authoritarian society throughout the film which reinforces the viewer’s expectations. To demonstrate this, my two chosen key sequences are the Fig Tree Sequence and the First Shaving Sequence.

The initial opening wide shot of the Fig Tree Sequence depicts the Falangist soldiers on horseback, in order to pursue the Maquis rebels. The non-diegetic composed score is extremely grandiose and patriotic, which is layered in tandem with the diegetic rhythmic galloping of the horses and the soldiers shouting ardently. Through this, del Toro represents the fascist regime as an elite domineering force which is reflective of the viewer’s expectations. The camera pans from left to right, signifying the treacherous journey the soldiers are embarking upon. We then cross cut between the soldiers and Ofelia through the use of a hidden cut – this example of parallel editing aptly informs the audience that these events are occurring simultaneously.

Another pan from left to right, displays Ofelia’s adventurous journey which creates a sense of duality between the forces of good and evil. As the camera rests on Ofelia, a tracking shot follows her movements as the viewer’s focus is appropriately converged upon her. The camera is at eye-level which encourages the viewer to empathise with our protagonist. At this point, the score becomes more playful and bucolic which represents her naturalistic demeanour. The soldiers’ faint chanting can also be heard low in the mix which reminds the viewer of their omnipresence. Ofelia sports traditional fairytale clothing which is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland, another archetypical protagonist presented to us in a fairytale.

As the camera continues to smoothly glide to track Ofelia, we push back in order to reveal the fig tree in its entirety which is reminiscent of uterine imagery in its design. This is perhaps representative of Ofelia’s maturity as she continues to persevere through her daring adventure – this example of metaphorical imagery potentially challenges the viewer’s preconceived expectations. Ofelia’s narration is naturally layered alongside the soldiers’ pursuit of the rebels which emphasises to the viewer that this is her fairytale. A variety of long takes are implemented to slow the pace of the film to a halt while keeping the focus on Ofelia.

As Ofelia enters the tree, a low angle long shot displays her standing at the entranced. She is centrally framed and partially obscured by the lighting in order to converge the viewer’s attention on her silhouette. The darkness of the silhouette is juxtaposed by the vibrant particle fairies, which suggests that a foreign entity is entering the realm. This challenges the viewer’s expectations of a stereotypical weak, female protagonist by exemplifying the theme of disobedience and rebellion. The implementation of woodwind instrumentation throughout the tree scenes further reinforces Ofelia as the protagonist.

Afterwards, we cross cut back to Vidal’s army – the captain’s stern expression and measured demeanour in tandem with his highly decorated uniform reinforces his authoritative position to the viewer. The two soldiers that accompany him act subserviently. For example, Vidal’s hand gesture immediately silences them, which informs us that the captain is used to being obeyed. In effect, this cements the sociopolitical hierarchy within the regime, which perhaps challenges the viewer’s expectations. Vidal proceeds to shout into the forest, during which his booming voice is extremely high in the mix. This emphatically represents his masculinity, which ultimately instills fear in the viewer. As the soldiers ride back home, a lowering crane shot displays the hidden rebels in a position of power through the meticulous use of framing and blocking. They have successfully outsmarted Vidal and this represents the rebel force in a powerful state of being.

As we cut back to Ofelia in the tree, the camera arcs around her as she crawls and eventually pushes in on a closeup of her face. Her face is extremely muddied, illustrating her character as adventurous and daring, reinforcing the viewer’s expectations. The mud itself has also dried in order to signify the passage of time, displaying Ofelia’s heroic resilience. She persistently breathes heavily which implies that she is extremely nervous about exploring the foreign realm. This informs the viewer that Ofelia isn’t perfect, which challenges the viewer’s expectations.

During Ofelia’s exchange with the toad, she addresses it as if it were a human in order to reassure herself that she isn’t afraid of it. As the toad begins to growl at her, Ofelia continues to stand her ground in the face of danger – she doesn’t cower or show weakness in any way. Alongside this, the score becomes more hopeful as Ofelia hatches her plan to outsmart the toad. Ofelia smirks as a glance object is implemented between Ofelia and a cockroach in her hand, informing the viewer of her cunning plan. After the toad dies, we cut to a closeup of Ofelia holding a mysterious key which displays her utter encapsulation towards it, signifying its valuableness.

As Ofelia exits the tree, a sudden storm ensues causing Ofelia to become completely drenched by the rain. During this, she is centrally framed in order to completely focus the viewer’s attention on our protagonist in order to encourage the viewer to empathise with her. The oppressive rain vigorously enters the soundscape, establishing the narrative device of pathetic fallacy which is reflective of Ofelia’s miserable state of mind, juxtaposing her prior confidence. This emotional development in Ofelia’s character is perhaps surprising to the viewer, due to her aforementioned confident demeanour presented throughout the sequence.

The First Shaving Sequence opens with the diegetic audio of the gramophone emphatically entering the mix – the chosen piece being written by Antonio Molina. This specific piece is extremely evocative of the 1940s time period and oozes Spanish patriotism. A fluid tracking shot follows the movements of Vidal’s hand as he gingerly picks up his cutthroat blade. This deluxe razor blade reinforces the fact that the captain rules the sociopolitical hierarchy which includes overseeing the distribution of luxury items. This reinforces the viewer’s expectations of a fascist figurehead.

Vidal’s movements are extremely precise and meticulous as he selects the blade, moving precisely to the specifically selected music. It becomes clear to the viewer that Vidal treats the act of shaving as a sort of divine ritual, emphasising his masculinity. The captain’s ritualistic attitude towards shaving potentially challenges the viewer’s expectations due to Vidal’s prior representation as a stoic, emotionless leader. As Vidal begins to pensively walk to the mirror, the camera transitions from a mid shot to a long shot – displaying the surroundings of the room. The desk on which the shaving equipment lies is extremely cluttered, informing the viewer that this is the centre of Vidal’s command. The cog-like water wheels that make up the background of Vidal’s lair reinforce his mechanical demeanour towards the pursuit of the rebels.

After a glance object between Vidal and the razor, we cut to an uncomfortably claustrophobic closeup of Vidal shaving his face with temporal focus. The diegetic exaggerated ‘sharp’ sounds of the blade against his face are layered in the mix alongside the score. The razor blade itself is an accurate reflection of Vidal’s personality, requiring acute precision and diligence. It can also be noted that Vidal is shaving unnecessarily – he appears to already be clean shaven. Through this, it is potentially implied that the captain views shaving as a form of detoxing in order to separate himself from the arduous pursuit of the rebels. As the score ascends to a fanfare-like crescendo, Vidal’s posture is reminiscent of a matador, which further reinforces his macho disposition.

After an abrupt jump cut, the lighting of the scene becomes much warmer, informing the viewer that we are now in the presence of Mercedes. As the conversation between the two ensues, the camera pedestals up to portray Vidal as holding an authoritative power over her. This is reflective of the current opposition between the rebels and the fascists. The room the two converse in is extremely reminiscent of the Pale Man’s room, which is presented to the viewer later in the film. This example of foreshadowing establishes the evil parallels between Vidal and the Pale Man later in the film. Mercedes appears to act defiantly against Vidal, instructing him not to cook the rabbit. This foreshadows Mercedes’ disobedience against the Falangists later in the film which is representative of the ultimate triumph of good overcoming evil.

In conclusion, del Toro aptly implements the key elements of film in ways that appropriately represent the powerful forces of good and evil. This is achieved through the characterisation of Ofelia as a protagonist, as well as Vidal as an authoritarian antagonist.

Pan’s Labyrinth: Aesthetics

In order to structure an appropriate answer for the following question, the following will act as a plan for my answer:

Discuss how aesthetics are used to communicate themes in your two chosen films. Make detailed reference to particular sequences in your answer.
Summer 2019

Introduction

The key themes presented throughout the film are rebellion, gender, reality vs fantasy and authoritarian order which emanate throughout the film in a variety of ways.

The key aesthetics conveyed throughout are the juxtaposing colour palettes to define the realms, typical fairytale imagery, subjective shots (Ofelia’s POV) and GdT trademark violence.

Three key sequences chosen are First Bedtime Sequence, Fig Tree Sequence and Pale Man Sequence.

Sequence 1 – First Bedtime Sequence

Cinematography:

Blue colour palette juxtaposed by warmth of fire, tracking shots, closeups of Ofelia and Carmen (intimacy), long takes, camera pushes in until they fill the frame, pedestal down into CGI, hellish colour palette, gliding camera, insect appears again, colour palette changes to greens and browns, camera arcs back to show Ofelia and Carmen.

Cut to Vidal in lair, low-angle shot reinforces authority, closeup of pocket watch for the second time, doctor enters with out of focus soldiers, shot/reverse shots depict the doctor holding authority, low-angle shot used as Captain rises to establish that he now holds the power.

Dark moonlit exterior setting accentuates blues and greys, claustrophobia created as camera pushes in, low-angle shot of Vidal, camera swings round as Vidal smashes farmer’s face, alternating between low-angle and closeup.

Wide shot as Vidal shoots farmers – soldiers remain emotionlesss, camera tracks Vidal – centrally framed.

Mise-en-scène:

Blue colour palette, gothic interior design – dark wood and fireplace, soft lighting – purity, horn design on bed frame (uterine), Ofelia’s humble fabrics juxtapose Carmen’s silk, naturalistic makeup.

Foetus evokes fantasy, CGI, crimson palette (GdT trademark), purple rose signifies royalty, foreboding branches, now-familiar insect transitions back to reality,

Mechanical imagery in lair, cog-like water wheel, decorated uniform, ‘over-realistic’ set design, well-dressed doctor, Vidal smokes.

Homogenous soldiers, harsh lighting, farmers are raggedly dressed, GdT graphic blood (aesthetic of facial harm is established), rabbit reveal.

Editing:

Long takes, slow pace, hidden cut transition into CGI, more hidden cuts – unnoticeable change (dream-like).

Crossfade into Vidal’s lair (simultaneous), glance object between Vidal and the watch (subjectivity), shot/reverse shot – continuity editing, J cut.

More shot/reverse shots, long take builds tension, contrast between the prior slow pacing and the fast-paced violence, reactionary shots, pacing sedates once the violence is over.

Sequence 2 – Fig Tree Sequence

Cinematography:

Wide shots of soldiers, panning left to right, tracking (eye-level), tree framing (dwarfing Ofelia, shrouded in darkness), shoe closeup.

Low-angle long shot, central framing – obscured by lighting, silhouette is juxtaposed by particle fairies, wide shots of tree, mid shots push into Ofelia, crabs right to transition.

Tilt up from Vidal’s shoes, closeup of illuminated antibiotic, camera arcs as he shouts, lowering crane shot emphasises the rebellion.

Closeups of Ofelia, wide shot of never-ending cave, crab right to reveal toad, quick pan (right to left), reactionary closeups.

Pushes in on key, closeup of Ofelia holding it focuses attention, pedestals up as she retrieves clothes, centrally framed during rain.

Mise-en-scène:

Juxtaposition between palette and uniform, forest palette, traditional fairytale clothing, particle fairies, uterine tree, magic stones.

Dim lighting, overgrown, dark brown palette, mud + cockroaches.

Tactile antibiotic bottle, rebels are less well-dressed but exert power.

Muddy face, animatronic toad, toad’s death metaphor, mysterious key, return to blue palette, pathetic fallacy.

Editing:

Colour grading, cross cutting, hidden cut, parallel editing,.

Layered narration, immersive long takes, slow pace.

Gritty brown grading, more hidden cuts.

Glance object (subjectivity), pacing quickens, hidden cuts

CGI frog tongue, fluid movements, glance object shows Ofelia’s resolve (POV)

Sequence 3: Pale Man Sequence

Cinematography:

Over-the-shoulder closeup of storybook (immersion), cut to illustration that matches narration

Wide shot existing between two realms, camera pull, extreme long shot, lighting and colour palette

Hourglass closeup, two-shot of Ofelia and Pale Man

Gliding worms-eye-view of children paintings, pedestal up to reveal shoes,

Tracking shot of fairies, closeup of key, closeup of hourglass (camera push in)

Closeup of blade, push in slowly to Pale Man, his dormancy juxtaposed by fairies

Pushes into forbidden grapes, focus pull to Pale Man, high angle shot depicts Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia

Rapid crab shot initiates chase sequence, handheld camera creates disorientation

Hellish colour palette contrasted with steely blue, distinctive gateway defined

Mise-en-scène:

Holocaust clothes, imprisonment, traditional fairy tale book, uterine drawings, pastel colours, palettes

Rabbit hole crawl (Alice in Wonderland), hellish colour palette, blood-painted wall, medieval resemblance, hourglass represents time and Pale Man

Green clothes juxtapose hellish realm, forbidding fireplace, tantalising food (Alice in Wonderland) – what a child might imagine,

Pale Man symbolic of greed, ghoulish eyes, Goya paintings, Holocaust shoes, key (hope),

Ornamental dagger, Macbeth, appealing grapes,

Vidal and Pale Man parallels, bloodstained hands, GdT violence (fairy deaths), shoe motif

Editing:

Glance object between Ofelia and book (subjectivity), slow paced, fade transition

Heavy colour grading, glance object, alternating between subjective shots and objective

Parallel editing, visualised mental thought process, long takes

Pace quickens during chase, reactionary shot shows Ofelia POV, pacing slows as the danger is over

Essay – Version 1

Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film. Being a passion project of the director, it is set in the summer of 1944 – five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the fascist regime, the Falangists, still emanates throughout Spain during their pursuit of the Maquis rebel force through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.

Throughout the film, a multitude of aesthetics are used to convey specific themes. The themes of rebellion against authoritarian order and child-like innocence are presented over the course of the film. My two chosen key sequences are the ‘First Bedtime Sequence’ and the ‘Pale Man Sequence’.

During the First Bedtime Sequence, del Toro immediately establishes the theme of authoritarian order through the use of extremely distinctive colour palettes. As Ofelia and Carmen lie in the bed, the incorporation of a foreboding, steely blue colour palette emphasises that this room is owned by the leader of the Falangists – Captain Vidal. The only warmth of the room lies in the fireplace which is representative of the small but omnipresent Maquis rebellion. During the ensuing CGI sequence of the foetus, the colour palette is juxtaposed with a hellish, crimson palette to reinforce the evil that persists within reality and the Underground Realm. The appearance of the familiar insect within the branches signals another change in colour palette to the comforting greens and browns of the forest which is exemplary of the theme of rebellion.

During the next scene, Vidal is seen silently working away in his gloomy lair. Del Toro utilises a low-angle shot and Vidal dons an extremely decorated uniform to reinforce his power and authority over the Falangists. Vidal’s spyglass is an example of ‘over-realistic set design’, an extremely characteristic aesthetic of del Toro’s filmography. This spyglass, as well as other objects such as the cog-like water wheels emphasises Vidal’s mechanical demeanour. The soldiers that accompany the doctor as he enters the room are out of focus, suggesting to the viewer that they are at Vidal’s immediate beck and call. More low-angle shot/reverse shots are used during the captain’s conversation with the doctor to emphasise that he is the authoritative figurehead.

The next scene takes place in a dark, moonlit setting which accentuates the blues and greys of the colour palette. This, alongside the use of a long take immediately establishes a sense of apprehension within the viewer. The camera then proceeds to push in closer to the fascists, creating a sense of claustrophobia. The lighting is harshly distributed onto the rebel farmers, focusing the viewer’s attention upon them and pinpointing the rebellion as the Falangists’ prime target. The farmers themselves are dressed raggedly, re-emphasising their position in post-civil war society. The camera then rapidly swings round as Vidal proceeds to smash the farmer’s face with a bottle, during which we rapidly alternate between low-angle shots of Vidal’s stoic expression and closeups of the farmer’s beaten face. Through this, the pace of the edit drastically increases in order to reiterate the domineering force of the Falangists. The incorporation of extremely graphic violence is another typical aesthetic of del Toro’s work and this introduces the motif of facial violence which reoccurs throughout the film. After the brutality is over, the pacing becomes sedate once again to inform the viewer that the storm is over. A wide shot is used as Vidal remains centrally framed as he proceeds to shoot the two farmers, during which the homogeneously dressed soldiers remain emotionless which emphasises their loyalty to the authoritative order of the regime.

The theme of child-like innocence is presented throughout the First Bedtime Sequence in a number of ways. Firstly, tracking shots are used to follow Ofelia towards Carmen’s bed which establishes her importance as an innocent protagonist to the viewer. The camera then rests on a two-shot long take of Carmen and Ofelia in the bed, through which the camera proceeds to periodically push in and out unnoticeably. The lighting is soft on Ofelia who wears humble fabrics, which is reflective of her purity. As the conversation between them continues, the shot becomes increasingly tighter to the point where the two fit the entire frame. Emphasising the intimacy between the two characters, this implies to the viewer that Ofelia is reliant on her mother’s warmth and comfort which reinforces her innocence. The appearance of Ofelia’s unborn brother as a foetus through the use of CGI also reinforces the theme of child-like innocence.

Throughout the Pale Man sequence, the theme of authoritarian order continues to preside throughout. Firstly, an opening wide shot contextualises the location of the scene initially taking place in the bedroom of Vidal’s territory. This is further exemplified through the reuse of the aforementioned icy blue colour palette to reinforce Ofelia’s state of imprisonment within the confines of the fascist-ruled reality. Her traditional clothing is resemblant of Anne Frank as well as many other Holocaust victims, representative of the aftermath of a totalitarian regime, such as the Falangists.

As she enters the realm of the Pale Man, another wide shot depicts Ofelia existing between the two realms. The previous colour palette is juxtaposed with a colour-graded hellish palette, which incorporates reds and crimsons into a monstrous visual spectacle. The interior is resemblant of a medieval dungeon, reminiscent of the Falangists’ traditional rule of authority over the rebels. Ofelia’s green clothing starkly juxtaposes the hellish realm, suggesting that she is acting as the rebellious force within the institutional evil of the Pale Man.

The Pale Man’s design is symbolic of greed – his loose skin in tandem with his malnourished body represents his gluttonous tendencies which he has not indulged in for a long time. Furthermore, the camera then pedestals up to reveal a colossal pile of shoes that lies beside the Pale Man’s table which is once again symbolic of the many victims of the Holocaust. The shoes represent a potential future that exists in Ofelia’s world which exposes the dangers of a fascist, authoritarian regime such as the Falangists.

Ofelia then retrieves an ornamentally designed dagger from behind a locked door. Receiving a closeup, the dagger is extremely shiny and polished, which reinforces its authenticity and uniqueness. The dagger also has iconographically symbolic relations to the theme of betrayal and rebellion towards the fascists. Alongside this, the key which Ofelia bears during this sequence is exemplary of the rebellious force that will overcome the fascist regime. Later in the film, Mercedes utilises a key to free the peasants from the wrath of the soldiers, reshaping the future of Spain forever.

There are potential parallels between the antagonistic forces of Vidal and the Pale Man respectively. While the captain consumes baby rabbits, the Pale Man devours children which reinforces them both as demonic and remorseless. The Pale Man’s hands are also bloodstained, once again linking to the act of betrayal and rebellion. The fairies’ deaths are extremely brutal and graphic (a typical aesthetic of del Toro’s work) – blood gushes into the Pale Man’s mouth. This symbolises the death of fantasy and whimsicality the fascists enforce.

The theme of child-like innocence is also presented throughout the Pale Man Sequence in a number of ways. Through the use of an over-the-shoulder shot, the drawings within Ofelia’s traditional storybook are portrayed. A glance object is implemented between Ofelia and the book which places the viewer in Ofelia’s virtuous perspective. This emphasises her innocent immersion within her own fairytale. Moreover, the drawings are reminiscent of uterine imagery which suggests Ofelia’s maturity. The use of pastel colours further exemplifies the whimsicality of her fairytale.

As Ofelia crawls through the mysterious gateway to the Pale Man’s lair, the action of ‘crawling through the rabbit hole’ is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. Del Toro’s aesthetic reference to this traditional fairytale acutely portrays Ofelia as an innocent fairytale protagonist.

Ofelia then reaches the Pale Man’s table, during which the camera crabs from left to right in order to track her movements from the opposite side of the table. Her trance-like state is displayed to the viewer as she observes the tantalising forbidden feast that lies on the table, reinforcing her innocence and vulnerability. The food is predominantly made up of sweet, luxurious delicacies such as fruits and jellies which is representative of what an innocent child might imagine a feast to be like. The camera then rests on a two shot of Ofelia looking intently at the Pale Man to present him as an antagonistic force.

We then cut to a gliding worms-eye-view shot looking up at the ceiling which depict paintings that display the Pale Man’s visceral brutality towards a countless amount of helpless children. These paintings are resemblant of the works of Goya, a Spanish romantic artist known for extremely graphic depictions of violence towards defenceless children. As Ofelia becomes tempted by the grapes, the camera cuts between closeups of Ofelia, the grapes and the Pale Man in order to subtly visualise her mental thought process and emphasise her innocent inability to resist the tantalising temptation the forbidden fruit emits. A high angle shot is used to depict the Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia, reinforcing the looming danger he radiates towards the vulnerable protagonist.

In conclusion, an abundance of aesthetics are used to communicate the themes of rebellion vs authoritarian order and child-like innocence in a wide variety of ways over the course of the film. Del Toro masterfully employs his characteristic aesthetics as an auteur, such as brutal violence and stark colour palettes to persistently reinforce key thematic concepts and motifs throughout Pan’s Labyrinth.

Pan’s Labyrinth: “Pale Man sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “Pale Man sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:55:21-01:02:19). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

The scene begins on a wide shot which arcs around, depicting Ofelia taking out her storybook. First and foremost, this contextualises the location of the scene being Vidal’s bedroom but this shot also informs the viewer that Ofelia is alone. We then cut to an over-the-shoulder closeup of her storybook depicting the pictures coming to life. This emphasises her complete immersion within her own fairytale. Subsequently, as Ofelia narrates the story, we cut to an appropriate picture in order to appropriately guide the viewer through the fairytale.

As Ofelia climbs into the mysterious gateway, a wide shot depicts her existing between the two realms. The camera then pulls back in order to provide the viewer with a sense of scale. After a transition which implies a passage of time, we shift into an extreme long shot which portrays Ofelia peering into the ominous lair. At this point, there is a notable change in lighting and colour palette from one shot to the other which clearly defines the other-worldliness of the hellish realm from reality. We persistently cut between the two worlds in order to make this distinction perspicuous.

The next shot is a closeup of an hourglass which indicates its importance. The idea of a ‘race against time’ is planted in the viewer’s mind which builds suspense. We then cut to a wide shot from behind Ofelia that reveals the new, unseen area that she is entering. The camera crabs from left to right, tracking Ofelia’s movements from the opposite side of the table. Her trance-like state is portrayed as she observes the tantalising food that lies on the table. The camera then comes to rest on a two shot of Ofelia looking at the Pale Man, it lingers for a while in order to let the viewer observe this enigmatic humanoid creature. The camera then slightly rises to emphasises the Pale Man’s oppressive and imposing nature.

An ensuing informatory shot depicts a mysterious pair of eyes on a plate as well as the Pale Man himself without any eyes. Through this, the viewer can infer that the eyes belong to the Pale Man. We then cut to a reactionary shot as Ofelia picks the eyes up, as her disgusted expression is displayed. During this shot, the doors of the lair are present in the background, foreshadowing their later significance.

After this, we cut over-the-shoulder shot which instills a sense of revulsion within the viewer. This is due to the fact that the Pale Man must receive an appropriate amount of screen time in order to appear menacing. We then cut to a gliding worms-eye-view shot looking up at the ceiling which depicts a series of pictures of the Pale Man slaughtering children. The camera then pedestals up to reveal a pile of shoes which informs the viewer of the sheer amount of victims slaughtered by the Pale Man, the focus is then pulled from Ofelia’s stunned expression to the shoes themselves.

As Ofelia lets the fairies free out of the bag, a tracking shot trails their movements which focus our attention upon them. There is then a closeup reactionary shot of Ofelia as she holds the key which portrays her coming to the realisation of what she must do. We then cut to a closeup of the hourglass during which the camera pushes in to emphasise the fact that Ofelia doesn’t have much time remaining.

As we cut to an angle that is behind the keyhole, a frame within a frame is created. Ofelia’s determined expression is focused upon as she reaches further within to claim the blade. The blade in question receives a closeup, signifying its importance. We then cut to a wide shot of Ofelia and the Pale Man, which pushes in slowly. Through this, anticipation is created as he remains motionless. His dormancy is juxtaposed by the fairies who are energetically darting around the area.

The camera then tracks back, pushes in and pans to the right in order to reveal the forbidden plum-sized grapes. There is a focus pull from Ofelia to the Pale Man in order to signify that danger is still present. The temptation of the grapes is contrasted by the imminent danger of the Pale Man. During the closeup of Ofelia eating a grape, the camera moves over her shoulder as the focus is pulled towards the Pale Man. As the camera pushes in, the viewer can surmise that he is about to awaken.

An ensuing closeup depicts the Pale Man placing his eyes in his hands, during which the prior visual information presented to the viewer is connected in the their mind. There is another closeup of Ofelia as she is unable to resist another grape, through which the Pale Man is visibly rising behind her in the background. At this point, the viewer’s focus is converged on Ofelia, emphasising her fixation on the grape. We then cut to a high angle shot depicting the Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia, reinforcing the looming danger he emits. Afterwards, an extreme closeup forces the viewer to observe the Pale Man graphically devouring the fairies. We alternate between shots of this and closeups of Ofelia’s reaction.

A chase sequence is ensued by a closeup of the Pale Man, the camera proceeds to track Ofelia’s movements in a rapid crab shot. We then quickly cut between Ofelia (the fleer) and the Pale Man (the pursuer). As Ofelia dashes through the corridor, the distance remaining to the real world is contextualised by alternating between fast tracking shots portraying her movements with shots of reality. During the chase, a handheld camera is utilised in order to create disorientation, reflecting Ofelia’s panicked state of mind. A closeup of the Pale Man’s hand informs the viewer that he is able to see her

To further build tension, a series of closeups are displayed focusing on specific objects such as the broken chalk, the wobbly chair and the Pale Man’s legs. Rapid alternating shots depict the Pale Man getting ever closer to Ofelia as she finally escapes through the ceiling. As Ofelia re-enters the real world, the hellish colour palette of the Pale Man’s realm is juxtaposed with the steely blue colour palette of Vidal’s territory. This distinctively defines the gateway between the two worlds.

Sound

The first sounds heard are the scrawling diegetic sounds of a pencil as the mystical drawings appear on the pages of Ofelia’s fairytale book. As this occurs, an artificial fantasy-esque sound reminiscent of the Underground Realm enters the mix in order to emphasise the whimsicality of the drawings. Ofelia’s non-diegetic narration is layered in the mix with the non-diegetic composed score, through which the use of soft instrumentation – such as a piano – evokes imagery of the fantasy world within the viewer’s mind.

As Ofelia uses the chalk on the wall, an appropriate ‘scraping’ sound accompanies this action, which is expected by the viewer. Conversely, this sound evolves into an unexpected ‘fizziness’ which diverges our attention towards the melting wall. Ofelia then scrapes her hand against the impossible gateway which has a hinge-like heaviness to it, expressed through appropriate sound design. As Ofelia enters the Pale Man’s lair, her narration bridges the narrative between the real world and the hellish lair. Alongside this, a non-diegetic fanfare signifies the Princess’ arrival in the realm.

The soundscape of the hellish realm is extremely ambient and foreboding – incorporating the diegetic ominous breathing of the Pale Man which echoes throughout the corridor. Sharp, high-pitched violins are present in the mix, illustrating Ofelia’s vast uncertainty towards this foreign realm. Important objects also receive a sound, including the chair, doorway as well as the suspenseful sound of sand slowly falling through the hourglass. The ambient soundscape of the realm gradually rises in the mix as Ofelia approaches the Pale Man, signifying the danger that will unfold.

As Ofelia encounters the Pale Man, there is an appropriately utilised ‘swoosh’ sound in order to reinforce Ofelia’s anxious premonition. Ofelia then picks up the eyes on the plate, during which a repulsive ‘squelch’ sound enters the mix in order to disgust the viewer as well as signify their later importance. As the images displaying the various victims of the Pale Man are displayed, the harrowing cries of children are subtly incorporated into the mix. This informs the viewer of the Pale Man’s potential brutality.

As the fairies are released from their confinement by Ofelia, the diegetic chirping of their cries are promptly raised in the mix. At this point, the fairies appear excited and liberated in order to later juxtapose the fairies’ conflicting emotions. Ofelia then holds the fantastical key in her hand during which a jarring, piercing is attributed to it. This drastically emphasises its impending importance. As Ofelia unlocks and opens the door, the dramatic score gradually creeps into the mix which signifies that something new is about to be unleashed. Alongside this, Ofelia’s laboured breaths reinforce her distressed state of mind.

Ofelia then unsheathes the blade from its resting place, during which an artificial diegetic ‘sharp sound’ is added to the mix to emphasise its precision and deadliness. At this point, the score becomes much more dissonant in order to foreshadow the fact that something bad is about to occur. The fairies continue to flutter around the Pale Man, their cackling implies their arrogance. As Ofelia spots the luscious grapes, an appropriate harp enters the mix connoting heavenly imagery – perhaps referencing Adam and Eve. Ofelia is unable to resist the temptation of the grapes, during which the fairies vehemently attempt to prevent Ofelia from eating them. The viewer is able to fully understand the fairies’ communications through the use of sound alone.

As the Pale Man awakens from his dormancy, an emphatic ‘cracking’ sound is extremely loud in the mix, informing the viewer that he has been dormant for a prolonged period of time. In order to further repulse the viewer, another squelching sound is added to the mix as the Pale Man places his eyes in his hands. Piercing and squealing cries can be heard which is reminiscent of a baby’s feeble, infantile cries. The texture of the score then thickens as the tempo begins to increase, indicating the imminent danger. At this point, the soundscape is extremely overwhelming – layering the dramatic score with the shrieking fairies and the growling Pale Man. Ofelia’s breathing begins to quicken, accentuating the rising tension. As the Pale Man begins to devour the fairies, the visceral crunching of the fairies’ bones are excruciatingly loud in the mix.

As the chase ensues, the Pale Man makes skeletal noises as he pursues Ofelia, his rattling bones are prominently featured in the mix. We then cut to a closeup of the hourglass, during which the sound of the sand falling rises in the mix, emphasising that she is running out of time. The objects of importance at a specific moment additionally spikes in the mix for a split second in order divulge the viewer’s attention. The score itself continues to become more urgent as Ofelia frantically scrawls the chalk on the wall. The chalk itself has a piercing and grating sound attributed to it, making the viewer extremely uncomfortable and uneasy.

As Ofelia finally escapes the diabolical realm, the Pale Man’s frustrated noises slowly lower in the mix, informing the viewer that the danger is over for now. Once again, the door ‘fizzes’ as it closes to reinforce its fantastical nature. Finally, the pounding of the floorboards is incorporated into the mix to reiterate to the viewer that danger still lurks beneath.

Mise-en-scène

Ofelia’s traditional clothing is resemblant of Anne Frank as well as many other Holocaust victims. This links to the theme of imprisonment that echoes throughout the film, reflecting Ofelia’s state of mind in the real world. The relation to the Holocaust also foreshadows the later appearance of shoes in the Pale Man’s lair. Ofelia’s fairy book is traditionally designed as the drawings are reminiscent of uterine imagery, emphasising Ofelia’s maturity. The use of pastel colours further exemplifies the fantastical atmosphere of the fairy tale. The steely blue colour palette of the room once again reinforces that Ofelia is imprisoned within Vidal’s territory.

Ofelia then proceeds to crawl through the mysterious gateway to the Pale Man’s lair, this action of ‘crawling through the rabbit hole’ is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland, portraying Ofelia as a typical fairytale protagonist. The lair of the Pale Man has an extremely hellish colour palette, incorporating reds and crimsons into a monstrous visual spectacle. The wall is painted with blood, foreshadowing the Pale Man’s brutality towards his victims. The interior of the lair resembles a medieval dungeon, the pillars being reminiscent of a cathedral. This implies that the Pale Man is an ancient being, who has resided in this cavern for eternity. The appearance of the hourglass is symbolic of the theme of time that echoes throughout the film. It not only represents Ofelia’s time limit but it also is representative of Carmen’s numbered days. The hourglass’ design also resembles the yet to be seen Pale Man’s decrepit hand, emphasising that this realm is ruled by him.

Ofelia’s green clothing juxtaposes the devilish colour palette of the realm, symbolising her allegiance to the Faun. The large fireplace in the background appears forbidding, connoting further imagery of hell. The large table of tantalising food is once again resemblant of Alice in Wonderland. The food is predominantly sweet, luxury delicacies such as fruits and jellies which is representative of what a child might imagine a feast might entail.

The Pale Man’s design is symbolic of greed – his loose skin in tandem with his malnourished body represents his gluttonous tendencies which he has not indulged in for a long time. His eyes which lie on the plate are strikingly evil and ghoulish. The paintings which depicts the Pale Man’s brutality towards children is resemblant of the works of Goya, a Spanish romantic artist known for visceral paintings such as “Saturn Devouring His Son”.

The colossal pile of shoes which lies beside the Pale Man’s table can once again be linked to the Holocaust. The shoes represent a potential future that exists in Ofelia’s world which is symbolic of the dangers of a fascist, totalitarian regime. Conversely, the key which Ofelia bears represents the hope of overcoming the Falangists. Later in the film, Mercedes utilises a key to free the rebels from the wrath of the soldiers, reshaping the future of Spain forever.

Ofelia then retrieves the dagger from behind the locked door, which is extremely ornamental and polished in design reinforcing its authenticity and uniqueness. The dagger also has potential symbolic relations to Macbeth, representing the theme of treason and betrayal against Vidal. The grapes that Ofelia eats are extremely appealing and voluptuously designed, further reinforcing the temptation they represent.

There are potential parallels between the antagonistic forces of Vidal and the Pale Man respectively. While the captain consumes baby rabbits, the Pale Man devours children which reinforces them as demonic and remorseless. The Pale Man’s hands are also bloodstained, once again linking to Macbeth and the act of betrayal. The fairies’ deaths are extremely brutal and graphic, their blood gushes into the Pale Man’s mouth. This symbolises the death of innocence and whimsicality the fascists enforce. Finally, during the chase sequence, Ofelia’s shoes are focused upon which is a key motif throughout the film.

Editing

The opening scene utilises continuity editing, incorporating a glance object as we cut between Ofelia’s face and her book. At this point, the editing is slow paced which is representative of the calm before the storm. Ofelia’s narration is layered over the edit as a fade transition is incorporated in order to signify the passage of time. There is another glance object between Ofelia and the hourglass, directing the viewer’s attention towards it.

The lair itself has been heavily colour graded in post production, which attributes a hellish quality it. As the camera crabs left to display the copious amount of food, there is another glance object between Ofelia and the feast. As Ofelia observes her surroundings, we alternate between shots that imitate Ofelia’s perspective and objective shots through which we maintain focus on Ofelia.

An example of parallel editing is utilised as we cut between Ofelia adventuring through the lair and the hourglass which ominously displays the amount of time she has left. As Ofelia becomes tempted by the grapes, the camera cuts between Ofelia, the grapes and the Pale Man in order to visualise her mental thought process. After this, the Pale Man begins to place his eyes in his hands during which the pace of the edit is slowed through the use of long takes, which build appropriate anticipation.

As the chase sequence ensues, another instance of parallel editing is implemented to portray the two perspectives of the chase sequence, being the fleeing Ofelia and the pursuing Pale Man. During the chase, the pace of the edit quicks through the use of frequent cuts in order to create a sense of urgency. As the door to the real world closes, there is a reactionary shot which depicts Ofelia’s hopeless expression. One more example of parallel editing alternates between Ofelia running away and the hourglass to further build tension during the chase. Finally, as the door to the lair closes, the pacing of the edit becomes sedate once again in order to signify that the danger is finally over.

Performance

During the opening scene, Ofelia appears to be completely immersed within her fairytale, becoming entranced by the moving illustrations. She also becomes rightly surprised as the chalk astoundingly melts the wall, pushing the door open with ease. These action imply that the normal laws of physics do not apply to the fantasy world.

As Ofelia enters the realm of the Pale Man, her explorative and curious nature is reinforced as she wonders through the corridor. She places the chair down ahead of time which emphasises Ofelia’s forward-thinking attitude. As she reaches the table, Ofelia is mesmerised by the feast and stunned by the motionless Pale Man. The viewer experiences these events at the same time as Ofelia which creates reason for empathy between the viewer and Ofelia.

Ofelia then becomes unnerved by the artistic depictions of violence between the Pale Man and the children, her breathing gradually quickens. She then proceeds to dextrously open the lock, demonstrating her resourceful disposition. Ofelia’s innocence and vulnerability is hinted towards when she is easily tempted by the forbidden grapes. She brashly brushes away the fairies, suggesting that she will happily dismiss the fantasy for a brief moment in order to indulge in a rare luxury. She proceeds to close her eyes as she devours the grape, savouring every morsel which reinforces the harsh conditions that she is forced to live under.

As the Pale Man awakens, it moves slowly and unsteadily which is characteristic of stereotypical fantasy monsters. Doug Jones is an actor typically known for playing monstrous creatures. Through his authentically unnatural performance, the viewer becomes fully immersed within the realm of the Pale Man.

During the chase sequence, Ofelia breathes rapidly which indicates that this is the peak of the tension. She desperately shouts into the corridor as the gateway to reality closes, emphasising her hopeless state of mind. Finally, Ofelia pragmatically seizes the chalk which reinforces her quick-thinking in dire situations.

Pan’s Labyrinth: “Fig tree sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “fig tree sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:30:50-00:38:18). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

The initial opening wide shot depicts the soldiers travelling on horseback in order to pursue the rebels. The camera pans from left to right, signifying a journey. As we cut to Ofelia’s side, the camera also pans from left to right, implying that she is simultaneously setting out on her own journey. The camera then rests on Ofelia, tracking her movements through the forest as our focused is converged onto her. At this point, the camera is at eye-level with Ofelia which encourages the viewer to empathise with her.

As the camera continues to smoothly glide to track Ofelia, we push back to reveal the fig tree in its entirety – it is reminiscent of uterine imagery. The tree is framed in a manner which makes it appear menacing – it dwarfs Ofelia and the interior is shrouded in darkness, creating mystery. There is then an interesting closeup of Ofelia’s muddied shoes, this being a motif which emanates throughout the film. The fact that her shoes are tarnished implies that Ofelia does not care about how others perceive her, which distances herself from Captain Vidal. There is then a closeup of a nearby tree branch, which signifies its importance to the viewer. This is then confirmed as Ofelia places her clothes on it.

As Ofelia enters the tree, there is a low angle long shot of her standing at the entrance. She is centrally framed and partially obscured by the lighting in order to converge the viewer’s attention onto her silhouette. The darkness of Ofelia’s silhouette is juxtaposed by the vibrant particle fairies which suggests that she is entering the Underground Realm. We then cut back to the exterior, the camera proceeds to pan up and tilt to the right to display a closeup of her abandoned clothes, we can infer that something will happen to it later. As we cut back to the tree’s interior, we alternate between wide shots to showcase the tree’s whimsically designed interior and mid shots that push in closer to Ofelia to display her arduous crawl through the tree. The camera then crabs right to smoothly transition to Vidal and the soldiers.

The camera tilts up to show Vidal dismounting his horse, an ensuing closeup of his shoes opposes the aforementioned Ofelia shoe closeup, which further reinforces him as the main antagonist force Ofelia must overcome. A closeup of the fireplace emphasises its importance to the viewer as Vidal places his hand over it, confirming his suspicions. The camera then arcs into a two shot displaying Vidal and another soldier investigating the area.

As Vidal proceeds to hold up the antibiotic, we cut to a closeup of the bottle being held in his hand. It is perfectly illuminated by the lighting of the forest to emphasises its importance to the viewer. Vidal then proceeds to shout into the forest, during which the camera arcs around him from a variety of angles. An ensuing wide shot tracks the soldiers on horseback attempting to pursue the soldiers, this time panning from right to left. A lowering crane shot pulls our focus towards a group of rebels who are powerfully framed as they have outsmarted the captain.

We then cut back to Ofelia within the tree, during which the camera arcs around her crawling and eventually pushes in on a closeup of her anxious face. It then cuts to a wide shot of the mesmerising cave tunnel which appears to be never-ending. As Ofelia begins to hear grunting, the camera crabs right in order to reveal the giant toad. During the exchange between Ofelia and the toad, there is a quick pan from right to left in order to accurately display the sheer speed of the toad’s tongue. We then cut between a closeup of the toad and a closeup of Ofelia’s reaction as it begins to shed its skin.

The camera then pushes in on the mysterious key which lies upon the frog’s remains. We then cut to a closeup of Ofelia holding it as our focus in diverted towards it, which signifies its valuableness. As we cut back to the outside, there is a closeup of Ofelia’s abandoned clothes, during which the camera pedestals down and then tilts up to reveal Ofelia emerging from the tree. We then pedestal back up as she picks up her clothes. Finally, as the storm ensues and Ofelia is drenched by the rain, she is centrally framed in order to completely focus our attention on her so the viewer can fully empathise with her.

Sound

During the opening shot, the grandiose, patriotic non-diegetic composed score enters the mix. Layered in tandem with the rhythmic galloping of the horses and the soldiers shouting, this emphasises them as an elite domineering force. As we cut to Ofelia, the score becomes more playful and bucolic which reflects her adventurous character. The faint chanting of the soldiers can also be heard low in the mix, reminding the viewer of their omnipresence. As we cross cut between Ofelia and the horses, the score appropriately underscores what is on screen.

The score then lowers in the mix as Ofelia’s diegetic narration begins to rise. Chirping birds and other diegetic forest sounds can also be heard as Ofelia navigates her way through the forest. In addition to this, woodwind instrumentation is added to the score in order to fully immerse the viewer within the setting. As Ofelia arrives at the tree, the score becomes more dramatic by implementing strings to the mix. During the closeup of Ofelia’s clothes, a storm can be heard brewing outside which foreshadows the later torrential downpour. As Ofelia enters the tree, the soundscape is exclusively diegetic. Ominous cave ambience is layered with the sounds of Ofelia crawling and the scuttling of cockroaches.

As we cut to Vidal and the soldiers, a diegetic conversation ensues between them, juxtaposing the dense soundscape of the tree. As Vidal realises that the rebels have recently been in the area, a dissonant non-diegetic stab chord suddenly enters the mix as he lowers his hand in order to reflect his distraught emotions. Vidal then begins to shout, his booming voices is extremely high in the mix and emphatically echoes throughout the forest. This presents him to the viewer as extremely threatening and authoritative.

We then cut back to Ofelia in the cave, during which the ambient cave sounds continue to be heard low in the mix. We then hear a mysterious growl, through which the viewer begins to wonder who or what it might belong to. This enters the mix to juxtapose the subdued ambience of the cave. After the camera crabs to reveal the toad, its distinctive grunts are layered in mix alongside the scuttling of the cockroaches.

As the toad sticks its tongue out, its ensuing grotesque snarls enter the mix at an extreme volume to severely intimidate the viewer. Here, Guillermo del Toro makes apt use of walrus growls and alligator hisses in order to appear menacing. Afterwards, the score becomes more hopeful as Ofelia hatches her plan to outsmart the toad. As the toad’s gelatinous insides begin to exit its body, an overwhelming repulsive sound enters the mix.

The key that lies on top of the toad’s remains receives a distinctive, high pitched fantastical sound in order to emphasises its uniqueness and importance to the viewer. During the proceeding exterior scene after Ofelia picks up her clothes, rain vigorously enters the mix which fills the soundscape. This emphatic use of pathetic fallacy makes us empathise with Ofelia.

Mise-en-scène

During the opening shot, there is an initial stark juxtaposition between the colour palette of the lush, green forest and the steely blue uniforms that are donned by Vidal’s soldiers. This implies that the authoritative Falangist regime is infiltrating the whimsical Underground Realm. Alongside this, the soldiers themselves are all homogeneously dressed, suggesting that they are merely an extension of the captain and have no personality themselves.

The colour palette of the forest is made up of greens and browns, illustrating a fantastical atmosphere. Once again, Ofelia sports traditional fairytale clothing which is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. Her green hair bow and dress compliments the lush greens of the forest. As Ofelia opens her traditionally designed fairytale book, the previously seen particle fairies populate the forest, further reinforcing its fanciful atmosphere. The sunlight is harsh, it blazes down onto the abundant leaves which populate the forest.

As we focus in on the fig tree, it is distinctively modelled and extremely reminiscent of uterine imagery. This could potentially represent Ofelia’s maturity as she continues to persevere through her daring adventure. The magic stones that Ofelia bears are bespoke and distinctively shaped in order to appear important. Ofelia enters the tree wearing her green dress which matches the tree, implying to the viewer that this is her natural habitat.

As we cut to the interior of the tree, the aforementioned particle fairies reside within which emphasises the whimsicality of the area. The tree is also dimly lit, overgrown with branches and covered with mud and cockroaches which implies that it is completely uncharted territory. In addition, the colour palette is made up of darker browns and is much less green than the forest signifying that we are now in the territory of the Underground Realm.

During the ensuing scene with Vidal and the soldiers, the captain’s uniform is once again extremely decorated which reinforces the fact that he holds the authority. When Vidal discovers the antibiotic bottle, it is designed in an extremely tactile and distinctive way and alongside the previously mentioned lighting, this emphasises its importance. Conversely, the lottery ticket held by the soldier is crumpled and deteriorated, implying it is a less important finding than the antibiotic bottle. As the soldiers ride back home, the hidden rebels are less well-dressed than the soldiers in order to reinforce the Falangists’ dominance. However, they still exert a sense of power over the soldiers due to their framing and posture and the fact that they successfully remained hidden from Vidal’s eagle-eyed scrutiny.

As we cut back to Ofelia in the cave, her muddy face makes her appear both adventurous and daring. Additionally, the mud has dried to signify the passing of time. The pathway of the tree appears to be never-ending, which is reflective of Ofelia’s sense of disorientation. The giant toad itself is a physical animatronic, del Toro’s use of a practical effect makes the toad appear more authentic and lifelike.

The toad persistently pulses as Ofelia attempts to console it – this creature is entirely unfamiliar to the viewer. The toad’s death could potentially serve as a metaphor for Ofelia’s dying mother. The regurgitation that exits the frog’s body is reminiscent of afterbirth and this use of visceral imagery to foreshadow later events in the film is extremely typical of del Toro. The mysterious key that lies on top of the frog’s remains is uniquely designed in order to appear significant. As we return outside, the steely blue colour palette returns to accentuate the ongoing storm. The vigorous rain then begins to occur, this classic example of pathetic fallacy reflecting Ofelia’s miserable state of mind.

Editing

The opening scene is graded in a way which accents the sun-drenched forest, as well as the vibrant leaves and trees. Del Toro then implements cross cutting between the soldiers and Ofelia through the use of a hidden cut after a pan to the right. This example of parallel editing informs the audience that these events are occurring simultaneously.

Ofelia’s narration is layered alongside the soldiers’ pursuit of the rebels to emphasise her perspective of the narrative – this is her story. There is another sequence of alternating seamless transitions between the soldiers and Ofelia. These parallel edits are extremely unnoticeable and fully immerse is within both sides of the story. When we see Ofelia next, she stands in a different position to signify the passing of time. As Ofelia solemnly walks towards the fig tree, del Toro implements a variety of long takes from a number of angles which slows the pace of the film to a halt.

As Ofelia enters the cave, the intimate colour grading is maintained, however grittier browns are included to separate the Underground Realm from the forest. There is another hidden cut as the camera crabs right while tracking Ofelia crawling. We transition back to Vidal and the soldiers dismounting their horses.

As Vidal begins to search around for any clues of rebel presence, there is a glance object between the captain and the antibiotics in order to focus the viewer’s attention on this object. During the sequence, the pacing is initially slow but gradually rises as we frequently cut to a number of angles as Vidal’s booming voice echoes throughout the forest. There is another hidden cut to transition back to the tree, the camera movement remains identical as it crabs left.

During the exchange between Ofelia and the toad, there is a shot reverse shot sequence in order to maintain continuity editing. Although the toad itself is an animatronic, its tongue is created through the use of CGI in post-production. This genre staple creates fluidity within the frog’s agile tongue movements. There is a glance object between Ofelia and the cockroach in her hand to inform the viewer of her cunning plan to overcome the toad.

Performance

The Falangist soldiers ardently ride out into the forest on horseback, loudly commanding the horses. As we transition to Ofelia in the forest, she carefully opens the fairy tale book and instantaneously becomes immersed within it, emphasising her imaginative nature. As she pensively walks towards the fig tree, Ofelia’s explorative nature is reinforced as she confidently narrates the fairy tale making the viewer question whether the fantasy is real or if it just a figment of her imagination.

As we transition to Vidal, his stern expression and measured demeanour reinforces his position of power. The two soldiers he is accompanied by act subserviently – they do not speak unless they are spoken to. For example, the solider immediately takes the bag from Vidal as he is handed it. As the captain is informed of the forgotten lottery ticket, he appears to act obliviously towards it, reinforcing his uncaring attitude.

His ensuing hand gesture immediately silences the soldiers, informing the viewer that he is used to being obeyed. Vidal’s booming, masculine voice echoes throughout the woods emphatically, instilling fear in the viewer. As the fascists ride away, the rebel group stand majestically silently informing the viewer that they have outsmarted the captain.

As we cut back to Ofelia in the cave, her persistent heavy breathing implies that she is extremely nervous about exploring the tree. During her exchange with the toad, she addresses it as she would a human in order to reassure herself that she isn’t afraid of it. As the toad begins to growl at her, Ofelia continues to stand her ground in the face of danger – she doesn’t cower or show fear in any way. As Ofelia realises how to outsmart the toad, she smirks which reinforces her quick thinking and pragmatic nature to the viewer. She grimaces as the toad eats the insect out of her hand, although there is a sense of accomplishment in her facial expression, highlighting the fact she has outsmarted the toad.

Ofelia nervously reaches out to pick up the enigmatic key, she appears to be completely mystified by it. As she steps outside, her heavy breathing continues implying that she hasn’t overcome every challenge just yet. Finally, rain then begins to fall, during which a look of utter despair is inscribed onto Ofelia’s face. The viewer can fully empathise her at this point as they have followed her entire journey up to this point.

Pan’s Labyrinth: “First shaving sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “first shaving sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:24:36-00:26:13). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

The scene opens on a closeup of the gramophone, silently informing us that music is about to start playing. The camera then fluidly tracks the movement of Vidal’s hand as he gingerly picks up his cutthroat blade. As the camera tilts upwards, our attention is pulled from the record player and is now focused on the captain’s face. As Vidal begins to walk towards the mirror, the camera transitions from a mid shot to a long shot, in order to display the surroundings. After a transition, the camera proceeds to arc around the captain and eventually pushes in on his face to present a mid-closeup of him meticulously applying shaving cream to his face. We then cut to an uncomfortable closeup of the captain shaving precisely with temporal focus. The final shot of the scene is a long shot, depicting the full scale of Vidal’s mechanically designed lair.

During the proceeding scene, the lighting becomes warmer which emphasises the fact that we are now in the presence of Mercedes. During the ensuing conversation between Vidal and Mercedes, the camera pedestals up to portray Vidal as having a more powerful position over her. As the captain reaches out to touch her shoulder, the two are framed claustrophobically which presents the captain as extremely threatening.

Sound

The first sound heard is the diegetic audio of the gramophone which is high in the mix. The chosen piece is “Soy un pobre presidiario” by Antonio Molina, a piece extremely evocative of the time period and one which oozes Spanish patriotism.

The song continues to play as Vidal applies shaving foam to his face, to which a diegetic brushstroke-like sound is layered in the mix. He then picks up the cutthroat razor, during which a universally recognisable “sharp metallic object” sound plays to emphasise to the viewer the precision with which the captain exerts during shaving. As the music ascends to fanfare-like crescendo, Vidal’s posture is reminiscent of a matador, further reinforcing his macho demeanour.

Mise-en-scène

At the beginning of the scene, we are greeted to a number of luxury items owned by Vidal. These include the gramophone, cigarettes and a deluxe cutthroat razor blade. These items reinforce the fact that the captain rules the hierarchy and therefore, the distribution of goods.

The razor blade itself is an accurate reflection of Vidal’s personality, requiring acute precision and diligence. The desk on which the shaving equipment lies is extremely cluttered, informing the viewer that this is the centre of Vidal’s command. The surroundings presented are reflective of Vidal’s mechanical disposition, the cog-like water wheels implying that he is a moving part of a bigger machine.

The surroundings presented are reflective of Vidal’s mechanical disposition, the cog-like water wheels implying that he is a moving part of a bigger machine. After we cut to a new scene, Vidal’s uniform is neatly presented and buttoned up as he addresses Mercedes. In addition to this, the interior is designed in a way which is extremely reminiscent of the “Pale Man room” which appears later in the film. This is one of many examples of subtle foreshadowing implemented by Guillermo del Toro throughout the film.

Editing

The scene opens on an initial long take as the captain picks up the cutthroat blade and walks towards the mirror. There is then an example of temporal editing, as the hidden cut signifies that an amount of time has passed between the transitions. After the transition, the camera is positioned in front of Vidal which is physically impossible if the camera kept moving in the same direction which it appears to be doing. As the captain dips his razor in the water, there is a glance object to focus our attention on the razor itself. The pacing throughout this sequence is relatively fast, matching the tempo of the music. As Vidal finishes shaving, there is an abrupt jump cut as the music comes to a final climax.

During the next scene, there is another glance object as Vidal looks at his boot while scrubbing it. During the conversation between Vidal and Mercedes, del Toro employs standard continuity editing techniques. These include shot/reverse shot sequences between the two characters as well as an eye line match. Additionally, the pace of the edit slows during their conversation in order to create a calmer atmosphere after the lively shaving sequence.

Performance

As the scene begins, Vidal’s movements are extremely precise and fluid as he glides his hand towards the razor. He moves meticulously to the carefully selected music and it becomes clear to the viewer that he treats the act of shaving as a divine ritual, emphasising his masculinity. It could also be noted that Vidal is shaving unnecessarily as he appears to be clean shaven. This potentially implies that Vidal views shaving as a form of detoxing to separate himself from his arduous pursuit of the rebels. It is also worth noting that a significant amount of time has passed during the process of shaving, due to the fact that his cigarette has become a stub by the time he has completed his shaving ritual.

During Vidal and Mercedes’ conversation, she appears to act as a mother figure towards Vidal, as she seems to be the only character to oppose him. In turn, this foreshadows her future defiance against Vidal later in the film. As Mercedes steps into the kitchen, each character seems to be more relaxed outside of the captain’s presence, which ultimately creates an untroubled atmosphere.

Pan’s Labyrinth: “First bedtime sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “first bedtime sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:11:14-00:17:52). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

The first scene of this sequence takes place in Carmen’s bedroom. The colour palette of the room is overbearingly grey and blue, emphasising the fact that this room is in fact owned by Captain Vidal. The only warmth of the room lies in the invitingly orange fire, juxtaposing the oppressive gloom of the greys and blues. This fire represents a small glimmer of hope in Ofelia’s seemingly hopeless life.

The camera then tracks Ofelia’s movements towards the bed, establishing her importance to the narrative. It then rests on a two shot of Carmen and Ofelia in the bed. This is followed by a long take throughout which the camera periodically pushes in and out unnoticeably. This emphasises the intimacy between the two characters. As the conversation continues, the shot becomes increasingly tighter and eventually the two characters fit the entire frame which reinforces their profound affinity for one another.

As we pedestal down, there is a transition into a CGI sequence featuring the foetus of Ofelia’s unborn brother. The imagery throughout is hellish and diabolical, perhaps referencing the evil that lies in both reality and the Underground Realm. The camera then glides, depicting the large scale of a peculiarly designed rose. Afterwards, the reappearance of the strange insect Ofelia spotted in the woods signals a change in colour palette from the devilish crimson to the familiar greens and browns of the forest. As we transition back to live action, the camera arcs around the bed to show Ofelia and Carmen are still lying in the bed.

We then cut to Vidal silently working away in his gloomy lair. Here, Guillermo del Toro utilises a low-angle shot to reinforce his power and authority over the Falangist army. We cut to a closeup of his pocket watch for the second time in the film, reiterating its vital importance to Vidal. As the doctor enters the room, he is accompanied by a number of soldiers that are out of focus. Through this, the viewer can surmise that they at Vidal’s beck and call if need be. As the conversation ensues between Vidal and the doctor, shot/reverse shots are implemented to depict the doctor as holding a higher power over the captain. This is done to imply that the doctor holds the answers to Vidal’s persistent line of questioning. As the captain stands up, a low-angle shot is used to establish he is now the authoritative figurehead in the conversation – we look up at Vidal and down on the doctor.

We then cut to a dark, moonlit exterior setting which accentuates the blues and greys of the colour palette which emphasises that this is the captain’s territory. A feeling of claustrophobia is created as the camera proceeds to push in towards the Falangists and the two rebels which further builds tension and suspense. The camera cuts to a low-angle shot looking up at Vidal, the camera then swings round during which the captain smashes the farmer’s nose with the bottle. We alternate between this low angle shot of the captain, portraying his stoic expression and a closeup of the farmer’s bloody face.

We cut to a wide shot as Vidal calmly shoots the two rebel farmers, during which the soldiers remain emotionless. The camera’s movements proceed to exclusively follow Vidal, keeping him centrally framed. This reinforces the fact that he is the centre of attention during this scene.

Sound

The first sounds heard are the subtle diegetic sounds of Ofelia’s footsteps on the creaking floorboards. In addition to this, we hear the comforting sounds of the fireplace crackling as well as the shuffling of bed sheets. The characters initiate in hushed dialogue which is ironically high in the mix. This emphasises the intimate bond the characters share. Afterwards, Carmen struggles to breathe, through which the viewer can infer that this is due to the previously established pregnancy.

The fantastical non-diegetic composed score then begins to slowly rise in the mix, foreshadowing the fact that we are about to enter the Underground Realm. As we enter the CGI sequence, the subtle diegetic heartbeat sounds emphasise the profound affinity Ofelia is developing with her unborn brother. Ambient wind noises are gradually added to the mix which have an ominous quality to them as the camera proceeds to glide around mystically. As the previously seen insect appears, the skittering sound is initially high in the mix but gradually fades out as it moves further away from the screen. As Ofelia continues to tell her story, a choral religious score rises in the mix, making her story seem important and authentic.

As we cut to Vidal in his lair fixing his watch, a rhythmic diegetic ticking sound rises in the mix. This reinforces its importance to Vidal and can also be attributed to his mechanical and measured approach. As the doctor and the captains’s conversation concerning his unborn child ensues, a ticking sound can be heard low in the mix which foreshadows that Carmen doesn’t have much time remaining. As the soldiers enters, their footsteps can be heard lower in the mix than the captain’s which reinforces his authority and power over them.

During the exterior scene, the important objects receive a distinctive sound – for example the the bottle and watch. As Vidal begins to smash the farmer’s face in, we hear the audible shattering and crunching of his nose. Moreover, the sounds get increasingly wet as Vidal persistently smashes the bottle on his nose. The score then rises in the mix as the situation becomes increasingly distressing. Finally, the emphatic gun shot used to kill the second farmer instills fear in the viewer.

Mise-en-scène

The opening sequence utilises a cold, blue colour palette with the interior design consisting of gothic materials, such as dark wood and a traditional fireplace. The lighting is soft on Ofelia and Carmen which is reflective of their warmth and purity towards each other. Carmen’s bed frame depicts the faun’s horns which suggests to the viewer that we will soon enter the Underground Realm. Ofelia wears humble fabrics which emphasises her innocence whereas Carmen dons expensive silks – suggesting that she is relatively materialistic. Both characters also wear naturalistic makeup.

As we descend into Carmen’s womb, the appearance of the foetus is extremely evocative of the fantasy genre. In addition, the distinctive use of CGI and a crimson, devilish colour palette is a Guillermo del Toro trademark. The depiction of the purple rose signifies royalty which perhaps links to Ofelia being the Princess Moanna. The presence of thorny, foreboding branches instills apprehension in the viewer and the sudden appearance of the insect signals the transition back to reality, this also gives us a sense of familiarity as we have already seen this creature before in the forest.

As we cut to Vidal’s lair, we are greeted to a visual spectacle of mechanical imagery. The captain is meticulously fixing his watch in the foreground, while a cog-like water wheel churns in the background. Once again, the captain’s uniform is extremely decorated which emphasises his position at the top of the regime. In addition to this, the ‘over-realistic’ set design (such as Vidal’s spyglass) in this scene exemplifies del Toro as an auteur.

The doctor who subsequently enters is well-dressed, making him appear professional. He is, however, less extravagantly dressed than Vidal. During their conversation, the captain smokes which is a typical antagonistic trope but this also symbolises his control over the distribution of resources throughout the area.

During the exterior scene, Vidal’s accompanying soldiers are all homogeneously dressed, sporting dull, grey uniforms. This suggests that they are fully compliant to Vidal’s commanding orders and have no personality of their own. The lighting is additionally harsh, juxtaposing the warmness of Ofelia’s room. The farmers wear ragged, dirty clothing which emphasises the fact that they are poor.

After an intense conversation between the characters, del Toro utilises an extremely graphic use of blood, in order to repulse the viewer on a visceral level. Through this, the captain is given a psychopathic quality – showing no empathy. Finally, the shocking reveal of the rabbit reinforces Vidal’s apathetic attitude towards the rebels’ lives, he shows no remorse for the fact that he has brutally murdered two farmers.

Editing

The opening scene of the sequence utilises a long take depicting Ofelia and Carmen in the bed, illustrating their intimate relationship. Through this, our attention is focused exclusively on the two characters’ conversation and any distractions are kept out of frame. The long take slows the pace of the film to a halt and readies the viewer for Ofelia’s story.

As Ofelia begins to tell the story, a hidden cut is aptly used to transition into the CGI sequence. Afterwards, there is another hidden cut to transition from the womb to the purple rose. The fact that we have changed locations is almost unnoticeable to the viewer and this creates a dream-like effect. The motion of the CGI is the same speed as the ensuing camera movement which naturally transitions us back into live action.

Del Toro then uses a crossfade to transition to Vidal’s lair, informing the viewer that both events are occurring simultaneously. As Vidal continues to fix his pocket watch, there is a glance object between Vidal and a closeup of the watch which further reinforces its importance to him. During the captain and doctor’s conversation, a shot/reverse shot sequence is implemented for the purpose of continuity editing. At the end of the scene, a J cut is used as we hear Vidal instructing the troops outside before we see it. This is done to inform the viewer that little time has passed between the two scenes.

During the exterior scene, another shot/reverse shot sequence is utilised between the captain and the farmers. Through another use of a long take, del Toro intelligently builds tension and suspense during the characters’ dialogue. The viewer can surmise that this is the calm before the storm. As the brutal violence ensues, there is a stark juxtaposition between the previous slow paced long take and the fast-paced editing of the violence. There is a series of reactionary shots, alternating between a low-angle shot of the captain’s uncaring face and a closeup of the farmer’s destroyed face. Afterwards, the pacing becomes sedate again, implying to the viewer that the storm is over.

Performance

During the bedtime scene, Ofelia begins by habitually climbing into Carmen’s bed. Through this, the viewer can infer that they can only have this bond when the captain isn’t present. Ofelia silently expresses that she is terrified of the outside world through her persistently anxious facial expressions.

The two characters speak quietly to one another to emphasises the fact it is night as well as to emphasises their affinity for each other. Throughout the conversation, Carmen shows some discomfort both gesturally and audibly. The viewer instinctively realises that this is due to the previously established fact that she is pregnant with the captain’s unborn child. Ofelia tells her story very eloquently and confidently, suggesting that she has done this many times before.

We cut to Vidal meticulously fixing his watch at night, perhaps implying that he is a workaholic. His scrupulous focus is only broken by the entry of the doctor, who nervously awaits the captain’s approval before he starts talking. During their conversation, it becomes clear that Vidal is used to being obeyed due to his subtle hand gestures which signal the doctor to immediately become silent. As the doctor challenges the captain about his child’s gender, the viewer can surmise that he is unused to being opposed. Vidal sneers, emphasising the fact he is unimpressed with his opinion. This dismissiveness could potentially imply that the captain is concealing a number of insecurities.

During the exterior scene, the farmers breathe heavily and tremble in fear as they are spoken to Vidal, reinforcing his position of authority. Conversely, Vidal expressively emphasises his enjoyment of power he possesses over the farmers through his dismissive manner of speaking. As Vidal begins to brutally murder the farmer, his facial expression is strikingly stoic. Furthermore, his emotionless demeanour remains during the aftermath of the murders which suggests he holds no remorse whatsoever.

Pan’s Labyrinth: “Opening sequence”

We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the opening sequence of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:00:00-00:05:52). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.

Cinematography

After the credits, the film opens on a crab shot of Ofelia dying in reverse – this could be considered to be a circular narrative seeing as this scene also appears in the final act. The film uses a blue colour palette to emphasise the harsh reality of the real world. The camera then pushes into her eye and into the Underground Realm. In actuality, this entire sequence is in reverse. This means that the film actually opens on an extreme closeup of Ofelia’s iris, through which the camera then pulls out and then pedestals down.

The camera then glides in an ethereal and mystical manner, crabbing right and pushing in through the entrance. Through the use of tilting, a free-flowing camera movement is created which emphasises the fantastical nature of the realm. At the surface of the tower, overexposure is utilised to create a bright, overwhelming light to represent Ofelia’s erased memory.

It is here that the three main colour palettes used throughout the film are established. The sun kissed gold, the steely blue palette and the green forest palette. Each of these palettes truly encapsulates the atmospheres created by each respective setting and Guillermo del Toro meticulously emphasises the use of visual storytelling throughout Pan’s Labyrinth.

After the time period shift, the camera then continues to glide – specifically tracking the movement of the cars. Through a sequence of selected shots, we are immersed into the story. After an establishing shot, we cut to a closeup of Ofelia’s fairy tale book, specifically Alice in Wonderland. This specific fairy tale is often referenced throughout the film and this shot establishes it. We then cut between a two-shot of Ofelia and Carmen and various closeups of both characters. Ofelia is always positioned closer to the camera to emphasise her greater importance to the story.

We then cut to a long shot of the cars coming to a halt, in which the particle-like fairies make an appearance. These sparkling pixies have connotations of the underground realm and are visually intriguing to the viewer. The camera proceeds to track Ofelia’s curious movements which further establishes her as the central character. We then focus in on the mysteriously shaped rock and through the use of an over-the-shoulder shot we learn that it is emblazoned with an eye. The camera continues to track Ofelia’s movements as she stumbles upon the overgrown statue. It then cuts to a two-shot of Ofelia and the statue, suggesting that the statue is in fact a character itself.

As Ofelia places the mysteriously emblazoned rock in the eyehole, the camera focuses in on the mouth. Through this, del Toro focuses the viewer’s attention on this specific area for the mild jumpscare that follows as the skittery insect makes its appearance. The camera positions itself at Ofelia’s eye level, which once again reiterates her great importance as a character. Del Toro then utilises a focus pull as our attention is diverged from Ofelia to the insect. An ensuing arc shot then tracks the erratic movements of this enigmatic insect as we view the Falangist vehicles from its perspective.

Finally, we are introduced to the main antagonist of the film, Captain Vidal, through a closeup of his cracked watch – yet another reference to Alice in Wonderland. His meticulous and mechanical demeanour is first established through this closeup. It is interesting to make note of the fact that both Ofelia and Vidal are introduced to the viewer through the use of a closeup of an inanimate object, being the fairy tale book and watch respectively.

Sound

The opening credits begin with silence, immediately focusing the audience’s attention. Afterwards, there is a gradual rise in the mix of natural diegetic wind ambience. This ambience is then layered with a peaceful humming lullaby, a reoccurring motif throughout the film. This juxtaposes Ofelia’s ominous dying breaths which are also gradually layered into the mix. As the reverse sequence ensues, an accompanying piano is gradually added to the mix. Through this, an eerie and pensive attitude is created by del Toro.

As we witness Ofelia brutally dying in reverse, non-diegetic narration enters the mix. This explains to the viewer the required expositional information involving the lost princess’ connection to Ofelia. A subtle non-diegetic whoosh sound plays as we push into Ofelia’s eye, which marks the transition into the Underground Realm. The non-diegetic orchestral score throughout the following sequence establishes an angelic and ethereal atmosphere. The jarring squawk of the crows juxtapose this, implying a sense of dissonance throughout the realm.

A subtle non-diegetic swoosh distinguishes the return to reality as a choral score is gradually layered in the mix. As the cars drive past, we hear the diegetic engines as we cut to Ofelia and Carmen within one of the Falangist vehicles. During the closeup of Ofelia’s book, a diegetic page turn focuses our attention towards this. The sound is entirely diegetic throughout the car scene.

As Ofelia steps out of the car, the background dialogue lowers in the mix as Ofelia moves further away from the soldiers. The viewer only hears sound that is relevant to Ofelia, the protagonist, to highlight her importance. During Ofelia’s curious exploration, she stumbles upon a rock which receives extremely distinctive and recognisable sounds. A gentle non-diegetic piano score enters the mix as Ofelia picks the rock up, emphasising the significance it holds to the Underground Realm. Here, del Toro establishes a recognisable sonic link between the use of piano and the labyrinth realm.

As Ofelia inspects the rock, a diegetic ominous wind enters the mix in combination with more sombre and lower instrumentation – specifically the use of a cello. The low strings of the cello represents a tonal shift as the mysterious rock continues to provoke questions in Ofelia’s mind. As Ofelia places the rock in the statue, we hear a tactile noise that confirms its placement.

When the insect appears out of the statue’s mouth, diegetic skittering sounds enters the mix which implies to the viewer that the insect could potentially pose a threat to Ofelia. Afterwards, Ofelia is dragged back to reality and subsequently, the soundscape of the Underground Realm gradually lowers in the mix. The sound of the insect is layered with the vehicles which remains at a constant level as the diegetic sound of the vehicles gradually lower in the mix. Subsequently, the sound bridge connects the vehicles to Vidal through the use of a J cut as we hear the ticking of the captain’s watch before we cut to it.

Mise-en-scène

The film opens with credits presented in a ancient-looking font, which establishes the film’s tone. As Ofelia dies in reverse, the crimson blood flowing backwards creates an initial enigma for the viewer. The Underground Realm is depicted as behind Ofelia’s eye which emphasises her importance to it.

The Underground Realm itself has an extremely cold colour palette, predominantly steely dark blues. The realm contains lots of ancient architecture, illustrating a gothic and mystical vista. As the camera tilts up, the sunlight glares from above which is relatively jarring – representative the time shift. The surface is illuminated in gold and we can clearly see that the area has been destroyed by the ongoing guerrilla warfare.

As we cut to Ofelia in the car, the initial shot is a closeup of a traditionally designed fairy tale book. Ofelia and her mother both wear traditional 1940s clothing, consisting of a beret and a waistcoat. The forest that the vehicles enter is extremely lush and luxuriant – it also matches Ofelia’s green clothing. The Falangist vehicles are also appropriately selected to match the time period.

The aforementioned eye rock is meticulously shaped and framed to fully capture the viewer’s attention. Moreover, the previously discussed particle fairies surround the mysterious statue, which suggests that it holds great significance to the labyrinth realm. The statue itself is overgrown which implies that it has been untouched for many years. The “key and lock motif” which features prominently throughout the film is first established here when Ofelia places the rock into the statue.

As we enter the mill, the soldiers each wear historically accurate uniforms embossed with the Falangist insignia which reflects the presence of the fascist regime during this time period. The object of shoes are also first mentioned here – yet another key motif featured throughout the film. The mill itself is architecturally run down and exposed, emphasising the Falangists’ authoritative control of the area. It is also surrounded by an abundance of militaristic equipment which further reinforces this, as well as the fact that Ofelia is entering an area of violence.

The object of Vidal’s watch is closely focused upon, emphasising its importance to him. The fact that it is extremely distinctive and cracked suggests its significance, it is also reflective of his character. Captain Vidal’s clothing is extremely decorated, signifying his authority. He also dons black leather gloves which make him appear menacing.

Editing

After the credits, the film opens on a title card containing the contextual information of the Spanish Civil War which is required for the full enjoyment of the film. We then fade from black into the opening crab shot. As the sequence plays in reverse, the underground realm matches the graphic of Ofelia’s iris. During the Underground Realm sequence, the Princess is superimposed while running across the landscape which attributes a floaty, mystical quality to her movement. Through the use of meticulous colour grading, the employed steely blues illustrate a cold and moody atmosphere.

Del Toro then uses a fade to white transition followed by a frame from white transition to indicate the transportation to the real world. The subsequent golden, sun kissed colour grading juxtaposes the previous palette which emphasises the change in location. In addition, the implementation of a cross-fade establishes the time period shift. During the car scene, continuity editing is used during Ofelia and Carmen’s conversation. Throughout this sequence, multiple shot/reverse shots are employed and the 180º rule is obeyed.

The particle fairies featured in the woods are theatrical as well as genre-appropriate. During the forest scene Del Toro uses long takes to establish a slow pace throughout. There is a glance object when Ofelia picks up the rock, which is then followed by a closeup of said rock. Alongside this, there is a reactionary shot of Ofelia after she witness the appearance of the insect

We transition to the captain at the mill through the use of a J cut. We hear the ticking of the watch before we cut to it. At this point, there is a reverse glance object as we see Vidal’s watch followed by the captain himself. Afterwards, there is an establishing wide shot which allows the viewer to get a sense of their surroundings.

Performance

As the viewer witness Ofelia dying in reverse, we hear her feeble dying breaths which make her appear vulnerable and weak. Through this, Ofelia immediately receives the viewer’s sympathy. Afterwards, the expositional narration is sincere and measured – aptly informing the viewer of the backstory involving the Princess Moanna and the Underground Realm.

During the car sequence, both actors give naturalistic performances. Ofelia keeps a firm grip on the book, implying that she has a profound affinity for the many fairy tales she reads. As Carmen experiences pregnancy sickness, her emotional performance causes the viewer to empathise with her pain.

Ofelia’s explorative and fearless nature is emphasised through her immediate initiative to explore the forest. Her curious expression reiterates this. During the insect’s appearance, Ofelia’s nonchalant expressions shifts to one of wonder and intrigue. This suggests that she is not afraid of the insect but mystified by its enigmatic presence.

As we are introduced to Captain Vidal, his precise and calculated movements suggest he is a malicious presence. His upright posture and stern demeanour reinforce this.

Pan’s Labyrinth Contextualised

We have been tasked to answer a number of questions which detail the contextual implications of Pan’s Labyrinth.

1. Synopsis

There are two distinctive worlds featured throughout the film, being the gritty war-torn reality and the fantastical labyrinth realm. Through this, Guillermo del Toro manages to tell two intertwining stories which can never be fully explained without delving into details featured within the other tale.

Real world:

It is 1944 and General Francisco Franco is the fascist ruler of Spain. Captain Vidal and his falangist troops have taken control of a mill in the mountains of Spain. They stockpile food there, giving the civilians barely enough to eat so that they can’t afford to give any supplies to the leftist guerrillas in the woods. Vidal has married Carmen, who bares his child. He sends for her because he wants to be present at the birth of his son. Vidal has little time for Carmen’s young bookish daughter, Ofelia. Unbeknownst to Vidal, his housekeeper (Mercedes) has a brother who leads the rebel maquis. She and Doctor Ferriero secretly supply the guerrillas. The communist rebels retake the mill shortly after Carmen dies during childbirth. As the falangists are overrun, Ofelia kidnaps the newly born child. Vidal follows her into a nearby labyrinth where he shoots the girl and reclaims the baby. He is confronted at the entrance of the labyrinth by Mercedes and a large group of maquis. Pedro (Mercedes’ brother) shoots Vidal under the right eye and kills him. A weeping Mercedes cradles Ofelia. Ofelia dies.

Fantasy world:

Princess Moanna sneaks out from the underworld to become mortal and dies. Her spirit passes through countless humans. The king of the underworld vows to wait for Moanna’s return. A fairy leads Ofelia to a labyrinth where a faun tells her she is a reincarnation of Princess Moanna and that she needs to return to the underworld. However, to make sure that her magical spirit is still intact, Ofelia has to successfully perform three tasks — obtain a key from the belly of a giant toad (that is killing a tree where enchanted creatures rest); use the key to retrieve an item from a locked door guarded by a demon (the Pale Man); spill the blood of an innocent into the portal of the underworld. The faun instructs her in sorcery. Ofelia is distracted because of her sick mother and fails the second task. Ofelia passes the final test by sacrificing her life instead of her brother’s. Princess Moanna returns to the underworld where she rules with “justice and a kind heart”.

2. When and where do the events in the film take place?

The period featured, 1944 in Spain, is intriguing as it is clearly a period where the rumblings from the Spanish Civil War are still being felt despite the war itself having finished in 1939.

The film takes place in a military outpost located outside Madrid in rural Spain. The presence of the fascist Falangists as well as the cowering rebel Maquis are effervescent throughout the duration of the film.

3. Briefly, what was the Spanish Civil War about? When and how did it start and end?

The Spanish Civil War was a military revolt against the Republican government of Spain which lasted from 1936 to 1939. After an initiative coup d’état failed to win control of the country, a civil war ensued between the Falangists led by General Franco and the Spanish Republicans.

4. Which of the factions does the Captain represent? Why is he stationed at the mill?

Captain Vidal is very much representative of the Falangists, who are in the process of exterminating the few remaining Spanish Maquis rebels who are currently residing in the mill.

5. Which of the factions do the people in the mountains represent? Why are they hiding?

The people hiding in the mountains are representative of the few remaining Spanish Maquis rebels. They are hiding from the malicious fascist Falangist regime, led by Captain Vidal.

6. Which of the factions do the political and religious elite support? Why?

Political elites featured throughout the film are clearly in support of the Falangist faction, due to most political parties forming an alliance to initiate the coup of July 1936. Religious elites are additionally in support of the fascists due to the power and wealth of the catholic church. Throughout the film, a priest is shown participating in the feast hosted by Vidal which emphasises that the church is on the side of the nationalists.

A local priest, attending a meal held by the Captain, dismisses the possible pain felt by the rebels on theological grounds. His representation lacks humanity and is clearly a barbed commentary on an out of touch and complicit Catholic church: “God has already saved their souls. What happens to their bodies hardly matters to him.” Del Toro uses the cinematic conceit of a banquet to heighten the corruption of the local middle classes and ruling elite. Despite his criticisms of Catholicism as a dogma and institution it is clear that Del Toro admires the spirituality of his native religion — in a later film Crimson Peak, a ghost story, he commented on his belief in ghosts. The scene above is strongly redolent of a stylised heaven with its church-like setting, a rosary window flooded with golden light and a grey bearded father figure flanked by a doe-eyed mother. It is all rather stuffy and formal befitting a royal court perhaps but not a fairy domain. That said it is clearly Ofelia’s (Princess Moanna’s) ‘happy place’ — she has come home to a loving warm family and an adoring people.

7. Which of the factions do the peasants support? Why?

Throughout the film, the peasants are shown to be in support of Vidal and the Falangists. Despite the Marquis rebels offering arguably more just ideals, the deprived peasants are utterly dependant on the fascists for food and other resources.

8. What role do women play in the two factions?

The representation of women is evidence of the social problems women faced in this patriarchal and macho era.

Women play a vitally important role in both factions featured throughout Pan’s Labyrinth. For example, pregnant women such as Ofelia’s mother represent the future generation of the fascists, due to the fact that Carmen is pregnant with Vidal’s unborn son. In addition to this, women are portrayed as subservient to the ‘superior’ male, holding roles such as a mere servant in the case of Mercedes. However, characters such as Ofelia recontextualise the role women hold when she shows a level of rebellion against the captain.

9. How is food an important symbol in the film?

The symbol of food presented throughout the film represent a variety of contextual ideas. For example, it is presented as a vital necessity as the peasants struggle to survive as Captain Vidal thinly rations the available resources. Moreover, in the realm of the labyrinth, food is symbolic of the biblical ideology of temptation when Ofelia is punished by the Pale Man for eating two grapes.

10. How is poverty an important theme in the film?

The theme of poverty is expressed throughout the film through the depiction of the rebellion against the fascist regime that has conquered Spain. The deprived Maquis rebels are poverty-stricken by the Falangist political elite and this forges the motivations for the uprising by the peasants.

11. How is time an important theme in the film?

Time is important theme presented throughout Pan’s Labyrinth illustrated predominantly through the symbol of Vidal’s pocket watch. This watch holds invaluable sentimental value to the captain and is visually symbolic of Vidal’s necessity for rule and order.

12. How is disobedience an important theme in the film?

Disobedience is the underlying motif that emanates throughout the course of the film. It is representative of the motivations behind the Maquis rebels’ actions and this exemplifies how the choice of rebellion is sometimes morally correct. Ofelia must choose whether to blindly follow Vidal’s authoritative order, or disobey and overthrow the fascist regime.

13. How and in what ways does Pan’s Labyrinth draw on fairy tale and fantasy tropes and archetypes?

The film pays homage to traditional fairy tales throughout the film. For example, Ofelia dons a stereotypical dress worn by both Dorothy and Alice from their respective tales. In addition to this, the Pale Man is representative of typical stories such as Hansel and Gretel by tempting Ofelia with grapes.

14. How is fascism portrayed in the film?

Fascism is portrayed throughout the film through the depiction of the Falangist regime. The authoritative portrayal of the fascists emphasises them as a threatening and overbearing presence. Punishments issued by Vidal are depicted in excruciatingly brutal detail and this invokes a visceral reaction within the viewer.

The negative depiction of Franco’s fascist forces is clearly intended to be extended to the imaginative poverty of fascism in general — in contrast to the more benign and sensitive (although hardly democratic) fairy kingdom. A more realist political representation is that of the guerrillas who are presented as resourceful and determined and egalitarian. Mercedes’ love of children (Ofelia and her baby brother) suggests a tenderness and a celebration of all things childish — indeed, unlike Ofelia’s weak and dismissive mother, Mercedes gives advice on the handling of fauns.

15. How does Guillermo del Toro employ uterine and yonic imagery in the film?

Del Toro utilises uterine imagery in a variety of ways. For example, the faun’s head has a striking resemblance to a uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries. GdT has additionally confirmed the use of a “fallopian palette of colours”. The trees are also uterus-shaped and there is a detailed depiction of Ofelia’s unborn brother in Carmen’s womb. This could perhaps be symbolic of Ofelia’s developing maturity as the film progresses.

16. How are maternal instincts presented in the film?

Maternal instincts are presented throughout the film through the characters of Mercedes and Carmen. Both characters attempt to nurture Ofelia in vastly different ways. For example, Ofelia’s mother attempts to indoctrinate her into joining the Falangists and addressing Vidal as her father. Conversely, Mercedes shows Ofelia the way of the rebellion and guides her towards the path of uprising. Ironically, Mercedes’ role as a mother-figure to Ofelia holds greater importance to her than her biological mother.

17. What is the significance of faces and shaving in the film?

Throughout Pan’s Labyrinth, Vidal is often depicted shaving his face in an extremely precise and dexterous manner. He makes it a prominent part of his routine and focuses his full attention towards it. This is representative of Vidal’s obsession with being in control and the razor used is symbolic of threat and terror.

18. What is the significance of flowers in the film?

Flowers depicted throughout the film are representative of purity and authenticity. Appearing at the end of the film, Ofelia’s rose represents her everlasting presence as well as the journey she completed over the course of the film. The rose could potentially symbolise eternity, implying that Ofelia’s actions have made a permanent impact upon the fascist regime.

19. How does Guillermo del Toro operate a ‘one for them, one for me’ filmmaking policy?

After directing the critically condemned big budget blockbuster Mimic (1997), del Toro used the funds from this to produce and direct The Devil’s Backbone. This alternation between a studio project followed by a passion project became typical for del Toro, and this is the film that cemented it. Pan’s Labyrinth is a key example of a GdT passion project. After recently directing the Hollywood blockbuster Hellboy (2004), del Toro used the funds earned from this project to fully focus his efforts on Pan’s Labyrinth, the film he made for himself.

20. How far is Pan’s Labyrinth representative of Guillermo del Toro’s oeuvre?

Pan’s Labyrinth is an quintessential example of what makes a Guillermo del Toro film so recognisable. Firstly, the film is spoken in the director’s native language, Spanish, which reinforces just how much of a passion project this film really is. In addition to this, the film features heavy use of ultra-violent injury detail – especially in the facial area. This inordinately specific quirk is extremely typical of GdT’s filmography and Pan’s Labyrinth is no exception.

Del Toro as an effective and idiosyncratic fantasy/horror auteur is evidenced in his earlier films such as Cronos (1993), The Devil’s Backbone (2001) and Crimson Peak (2015) as well as in his much more mainstream Hollywood work such as Hellboy (2004) and Pacific Rim (2013).

21. How did the critical reception of The Devil’s Backbone influence the production of Pan’s Labyrinth?

Del Toro has stated that Pan’s Labyrinth is a spiritual successor to The Devil’s Backbone in a thematically linked trilogy of films. The critical reception of The Devil’s Backbone was mostly positive receiving an average score of 7.4/10 on IMDb at the time of writing. This positive acclaim encouraged audiences to go and watch Pan’s Labyrinth, which has contributed to its worldwide success.

22. Was the film financially successful?

Released in the UK by Optimum. Premiered at Cannes in May 2006 to great acclaim. Co–produced by a number of Spanish, Mexican and American production companies the $19 million budget is reflected in the complex production design, period dressing and relatively large cast. The eventual worldwide box office of $83.3 million was seen as a triumph.

Being released worldwide in December among a multitude of Oscar contenders such as The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006), Pan’s Labyrinth, the fantasy/war dark horse surprisingly grossed $30 million and is still running strong to this day.

23. Why is the year of release of The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth significant?

The two films were released in 2001 and 2006 respectively. Being released 5 years apart from each other, the years that the films are set are additionally set 5 years apart being 1939 and 1944 respectively.

24. Why physical effects over CGI?

Employing a minuscule amount of CGI within its special effects, Pan’s Labyrinth predominantly utilises a vast amount of meticulously designed makeup and animatronics to illustrate a visually pleasing spectacle.

The key technology used in this film is the animatronics and green screen work as discussed above and its effective creation of a magical-realist production design.

25. Why did Guillermo del Toro write the DVD subtitles himself?

Del Toro wrote the subtitles for Pan’s Labyrinth himself after becoming disillusioned with the translation of The Devil’s Backbone — a film also with the Spanish Civil War as its backdrop and the informal prequel to Pan’s Labyrinth.

Del Toro was extremely disappointed with the subtitles for The Devil’s Backbone and described them as being for the “thinking impaired” and “incredibly bad”. Subsequently, he took action into his own hands and wrote the English subtitles for Pan’s Labyrinth himself.

26. How does Guillermo del Toro use distinct colour palettes in the film?

GdT implements two distinctive colour palettes in order to visually inform the viewer as to whether the scene was taking place in reality or in the fantasy world. The labyrinth realm features predominantly warm colours such as “deep crimsons and golden ambers, almost like amniotic fluids” as noted by del Toro. Conversely, the colours of the harsh reality utilise a much colder palette, making apt use of deep blues and greens, as well as accentuated sharp angles to reinforce the brutality of guerrilla warfare.

27. Look at the “context starter questions” on the Contexts Of Film mind-map. How many could you answer? Add your answers to the end of this post.

Institutional Context- How films are funded, how the level of production budget affects the kind of film made and the main stages of film production:

GdT was offered a large amount of studio money to shoot the film, as long as it was spoken in English. Refusing this to reflect his creative vision, del Toro financed the film himself with the help of fellow auteur Alfonso Cuarón.

Political Context – The way political issues, when relevant to the film chosen, are reflected in a film:

Guillermo del Toro chose to set the film five years after the end of the Spanish Civil War, as he believes it is a topic swept under the rug by most Spaniards. The Falangist fascist regime are explicitly depicted as brutal and malicious, whereas the Spanish rebel republicans are depicted as heroic and courageous.

Historical Context – Aspects of the society and culture at the time when films are made and, where relevant, where they are set:

Being released in 2006, del Toro himself has stated that the 9/11 terrorist attacks are what inspired him to make Pan’s Labyrinth. He stated that his perception of “brutality, innocence and war” changed after the destruction of the twin towers. The film’s social commentary is not exclusive to the Falangist regime but is an overall critique of fascist ideologies.

Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006)

Contains spoilers for Pan’s Labyrinth.

Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film starring Ivana Baquero, Ariadna Gil and Sergi López. The film is set in the summer of 1944, five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the Falangist fascists still emanates throughout Spain as well as the Spanish Maquis rebel forces through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.

We follow Ofelia, the stepdaughter of the malicious Captain Vidal who is violently hunting the rebel Maquis. She stumbles upon a mythical world in which an abandoned labyrinth lies, which seems to belong to an enigmatic faun. It is through this that Ofelia becomes desperate to save her unborn brother from a life of anguish and rid Spain of all conflict.

*Interaction between Ofelia and the faun*

Del Toro utilises a variety of interesting techniques throughout the film in order to tell a compelling story. Firstly, del Toro’s signature use of ultra-graphic injury detail is ever present throughout the duration of Pan’s Labyrinth. Akin to his previous works such as The Devil’s Backbone and Crimson Peak, countless people are mercilessly tortured and maimed and through this, del Toro instills a sense of enervation within the viewer.

In addition to this, del Toro makes apt use of lighting to differentiate between the fantasy world and the gritty reality. High-key lighting is implemented during scenes when Ofelia is immersed within the labyrinth and this is used to represent a sense of unadulterated bliss. Conversely, during the majority of the film, low-key lighting is used to emphasise the sombre and harsh reality of the war-ridden world.

The film does not follow a typical linear narrative structure. The film opens with the final scene of the film, which depicts Ofelia dying in reverse. This establishes an initial enigma, which is then resolved at the end of the film. Del Toro’s striking use of nonlinear narrative structure further intrigues the viewer and makes for one shocking opening scene.

The film holds an extremely important place within Guillermo del Toro’s filmography due to the fact that it is considered by many to be his magnum opus. Winning a bountiful number of academy awards such as Best Cinematography and Best Makeup, Pan’s Labyrinth is a profound drama which astutely blends two seemingly dissonant genres, being fantasy and war.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed Pan’s Labyrinth from beginning to end. Del Toro successfully created an enthralling tale making intelligent and calculated use of the elements of film form throughout. I enjoyed each witnessing the struggles and hardships of each of the characters, particularly Captain Vidal who acted as an extremely effective antagonist.

My personal favourite sequence has to be the Pale Man sequence due to how enigmatic and intriguing the creature is. Through the use of no dialogue, the scene is extremely effective in the way of building tension and mystery.

Through the use of symbolism, characterisation and fantasy, I think that the main message told throughout Pan’s Labyrinth is the terror of war and the capability for humankind to perform malicious and abhorrent actions. The contextual implication of the humans in the real world being just as malicious as the savage monsters of the labyrinth rings true throughout the duration of the film.

Overall, I would rate Pan’s Labyrinth ★★★★.

The Devil’s Backbone (Guillermo del Toro, 2001)

The Devil’s Backbone (Guillermo del Toro, 2001) is a Spanish horror/drama starring Federico Luppi, Eduardo Noriega and Marisa Paredes. The film details the life of Carlos who is forced to take refuge at the Santa Lucia School for orphans. Over time, Carlos begins to discover the supernatural elements of the orphanage, including a young ghost that strolls the area.

Throughout the film, del Toro utilises a number of filmic techniques in order to tell an extremely visceral and enthralling tale. Firstly, del Toro implements a flashback sequence to create an initial enigma and an interesting narrative structure. This, alongside a multitude of aesthetically pleasing shots intrigues the viewer. In addition to this, del Toro creates a number of tense and terrifying horror sequences throughout.

The film holds a significant place within Guillermo del Toro’s filmography due to the fact that it is an extremely personal passion project. After recently directing the critically condemned big budget blockbuster Mimic (1997), del Toro used the funds from this to produce and direct The Devil’s Backbone. This alternation between a studio project followed by a passion project became typical for del Toro, and this is the film that cemented it.

I personally had mixed reactions towards the film. Although I definitely enjoyed it overall, I found that the film suffered from some pacing issues in the first act. In addition to this, I personally did not connect to any of the characters and found many of their actions to be questionable. Despite this, I thoroughly enjoyed certain set-pieces throughout the film – predominantly the fire scene and the proceeding aftermath.

The film astutely tackles themes such as the supernatural, betrayal as well as loneliness throughout. The message presented over the course of the film emphasises the fact that the true ‘devil’ is the frightening evil that lives within the depths of the human psyche.

Overall, I would rate The Devil’s Backbone ★★★½.

Component 2a: Global Film

The first component we are studying is Component 2a: Global Film. This section of the course entails two films of study, being Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) and Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014). These two specific films have been chosen due to the fact that both originate outside of the UK and are in a subtitled foreign language. One film is required to be European and the other must originate from a continent outside of Europe. Pan’s Labyrinth is a Spanish film (Europe) and Wild Tales is an Argentinian film (outside of Europe).

The core study areas of this unit are the key elements of film form, as well as context, aesthetics and representation. We are required to use these areas of study to construct and communicate meaning for a comprehensive analysis. We are not required to compare the two films but merely write about them separately, discussing the techniques used throughout.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Mop-Up

My finished film

The post-production process ran extremely smoothly. Using LumaFusion, I sequenced the 25 or so shots together, being sure to cut at the appropriate time for the two examples of match on action which I implemented.

I slowed the speed of one specific shot (throwing the squash down the sink) for dramatic effect. In addition, I added a title card, as well as credit titles.

Although I am pleased with my finished film, there are a number of things that could’ve been better:

Making sure the focus is appropriately managed
Controlled camera movements
Background sounds should be lower in the mix, unless they are the focus

Overall, I think that the Kitchen Sink Drink project went relatively well. I enjoyed the conception of ideas, scriptwriting, as well as the filming process. My least favourite part of the project was definitely the floor plan and storyboarding.

I attempted to employ techniques throughout the film, such as matching on action and camera panning. In addition, I tried to obey the 180º rule throughout.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Filming

The process of filming ran relatively smoothly with no major issues. We filmed for around an hour, despite the final film being around 2 minutes long.

The main point of interest is that I decided to utilise a number of shot types and techniques that I hadn’t considered in the storyboard. This included filming from the bottom of the glass, as well as from inside the cupboard. I also tried including a body wipe, where Scarlett appears to walk through the camera.

In addition, the sun began to set after a period of filming so I was careful to not include any shots which pictured a window in the frame.

*The two filming locations – dining room and kitchen*

Kitchen Sink Drink: Storyboards

The next step was to storyboard the sequence of events, determining the specific shot types that I would use. Below is my completed storyboard.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Location Scout and Floor Plan

The next step in the process was to take photos of the filming location, in this case being the dining room and kitchen. In addition, I had to draw a rough floor plan of the area. Below are both the images taken and the floor plan.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Screenplay

Next, I had to write a correctly formatted screenplay using Slugline. Below is my completed screenplay.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Treatment

My film will involve two characters, a father and a daughter.

We open on a closeup of an empty glass containing a few drops of water which the father then inspects to see if there is any water remaining. After discovering it is practically empty, he picks up the glass and he heads towards the kitchen. Before he reaches the kitchen, he encounters the daughter holding another empty glass. The father then asks the daughter if she can refill his glass, seeing as she is doing the same anyway. She reluctantly accepts the request and takes the glass from him.

We cut to the daughter in the kitchen pouring squash into one of the glasses, then diluting it with water. She moves onto the father’s glass and pours some squash into the glass. She then realises that he asked for water, and proceeds to carelessly throw the squash into the sink, unknowingly leaving a minuscule amount remaining in the glass. The camera focuses on this. She dilutes the squash with water, realising her mistake and masking the contents of the drink. The daughter enters the dining room and she places her squash down on the table. She then gives the other drink to the father. The daughter takes a sip of her squash, scrutinising the father. As he takes a sip of the drink, we cut to a reactionary shot of the daughter’s devious expression. The film ends on a closeup of the father’s confused reaction to the extremely dilute squash before any dialogue can ensue between the two characters.

Kitchen Sink Drink: Introduction

We have been tasked to plan, film, edit and upload a sequence featuring two characters in a kitchen, during which a drink is offered and accepted but secretly has something added to it.

The first order of business is to write a treatment. A treatment is a document that presents the story idea of a film before writing the script in its entirety. They are often written in present tense, in a narrative-like prose. Information included within a treatment usually contains the title of the film, a story summary as well as character descriptions.

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Representation

Throughout the film, Wes Anderson chooses to represent a variety of groups in a particular way. For example, Anderson chooses to expose our cultural understanding of the Nazis in order to depict the prominent “ZZ” fascist group throughout the film.

Without explicitly telling us, everything we need to know about this group is implicitly hinted at through the use of mise-en-scène and performance. The homogeneity of the costume design reiterates the uniformity of the fascist group. Alongside this, the performances are extremely well-choreographed and synchronised to emphasise this.

The film frequently focuses our attention towards the familiarly designed “ZZ” insignia which is extremely reminiscent of the SS Nazi police force. Through this, Anderson manages to use the shared understanding of this symbol to his advantage in order to silently represent the prominent fascist group in this way.

Another example of representation reinforced throughout The Grand Budapest Hotel is the differentiation in class. The lavishness of the hotel’s interior as well as the opulence of the guests purport a sense of aristocracy. Conversely, the appearance of the crippled shoeshiner emphasises the harsh reality of the working class during this time period.

*Difference in class represented within The Grand Budapest Hotel*

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Aesthetics

Throughout the film, Wes Anderson utilises a number of techniques in order to illustrate intriguing and enthralling aesthetics throughout.

Primarily, the implementation of three different aspect ratios create a distinctive aesthetic throughout the film. Anderson utilises a different aspect ratio to represent each time period. These include 1.37:1 (1932), 2.4:1 (1968) and 1.85:1 (1985). In effect, this subtly informs the viewer of the current scene’s time period.

Each aspect ratio was carefully chosen in order to accurately reflect the time period in which it represents. Beginning in the 1980s, the film utilises a standard widescreen aspect ratio which was typical of film during that specific time period. During the 1960s section, an anamorphic aspect ratio is implemented in order to indicate a sense of comfort and luxury during this point in Zero’s life. Finally, the majority of the film takes place during the 1930s in which the vintage ‘Academy Ratio’ is utilised to authentically represent the Golden Age of cinema during this time.

*Aspect ratios within The Grand Budapest Hotel*

Another aesthetic Anderson utilises is an enchanting colour palette. Making apt use of cremes, pinks, reds and beiges, Anderson diligently illustrates a vibrant and distinctive colour palette which astutely complements the film’s narrative and style.

In addition to this, the film intelligently makes use of zeitgeist in order to reiterate the time period as well as the opulence and aristocracy associated with it. Each and every costume worn by the actors is meticulously selected to insinuate a sense of authenticity.

*Colour palette and costume within The Grand Budapest Hotel*

Characteristic of Wes Anderson’s filmography, The Grand Budapest Hotel features a highly stylised utilisation of symmetry and framing. Throughout the film, Anderson typically establishes a symmetrically composed frame, through which a character or object will then enter. The viewer’s attention is then focused towards this object which is almost always centrally framed.

*Symmetry within The Grand Budapest Hotel*

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Performance

We were tasked to analyse the performances from the 4th and 5th chapters of The Grand Budapest Hotel. In class, we discussed the expressive use of voice, intonation, movement and physicality throughout.

The scene opens on a silhouette of M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) standing by a balcony. Through a diligent use of posture, he is depicted as a reflective and insightful person.

Throughout this sequence, Ralph Fiennes gives an extremely expressive performance as M. Gustave. He uses lots of hand gestures and other precise motions to oversee and instruct the hotel workers.

His performance can be described as instructive and clear, as well as naturalistic. Fiennes utilises a very particular way of speaking, which illustrates his character as a member of aristocracy. Gustave additionally establishes a tone of authority, through which he asserts himself as a self-assertive figurehead. His words are chosen conscientiously in order to meticulously instruct the members of the working class.

During the conversation with Madame D, Fiennes uses subtle gestures such as a smile in order to feign intrigue. Interestingly, his measured demeanour is shattered when he makes notice of her nail varnish. Gustave’s precise movements are abandoned during this revelation which gives the viewer an invaluable insight into Gustave’s true colours.

Fiennes’ movements throughout are choreographed and precise and are meticulously timed to Anderson’s predetermined camera movements. As the camera crabs left, Fiennes naturalistically glides left. Anderson additionally makes use of blocking throughout this sequence, Gustave is always centrally framed in order to emphasise his authority.

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Mise-en-scène

We were tasked to analyse the mise-en-scène from the 5th chapter of The Grand Budapest Hotel. In class, we discussed the partial and complete control of environment throughout the chapter.

Chapter 5: Lobby

It is important to establish the two key intentions the director attempted to achieve through the use of mise-en-scène throughout this sequence. Firstly, Wes Anderson’s first intended aim is to illustrate the opulence and grandeur of the hotel itself, emphasising the upper-class society of the time period. Secondly, Anderson attempts to present Gustave as an authoritative and self-assured figurehead through the use of mise-en-scène throughout.

From the very start, Gustave can be described as well-presented, well-groomed and polished. He dons an extravagant purple suit and bow tie and sports a meticulously slicked hairstyle, as well as a prominent moustache. All of this contributes to Gustave being perceived as a well-respected concierge in addition to being a member of aristocratic society. On the other hand, Zero dons a similar – albeit slightly askew – outfit, this is exemplified by a lop-sided “Lobby Boy” hat, as well as a fake moustache.

During the first scene of this chapter, Anderson utilises a range of flamboyant colours to reiterate the lavishness of the hotel itself. These include cremes, pinks and beiges as well as a generally snowy environment. Moreover, the lettering of the hotel sign is emblazoned in a flashy gold trimming which captures the audience’s attention.

During Gustave and Zero’s conversation, we cut to an appropriately dressed upper-class man having his shoes shined by a crippled working class boy, who is pictured as having scraggy clothes and dirty shoes. This emphasises the social divide presented to the viewer throughout the film. Moreover, the wagons parked outside the hotel contain a bountiful amount of luggage which purports a sense of immense popularity within the hotel.

*Social hierarchy in The Grand Budapest Hotel*

Inside the hotel, the interior is furnished with a vast array of luxurious decor, examples of which include crimson carpets and imported exotic plants. In addition, the entire lobby is grandly illuminated and every guest is well-presented and respectably dressed. There is a juxtaposition created between the wealth of the hotel and the mundanity of the workers’ duties.

During Zero’s interview, Gustave immediately deals with the multitude of interruptions by the hotel staff. Each staff member immediately moves out of Gustave’s way and astutely answers to his beck and call. This contextualises Gustave as a well-respected concierge and a force to be reckoned with.

*Lavish costume and set design within The Grand Budapest Hotel*

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Editing

We were tasked to analyse the editing from the 28th and 29th chapter of The Grand Budapest Hotel. In class, we discussed the deliberate and considered pacing and sequencing throughout the chapters.

Chapters 28-29: Second Copy of the Second Will

Anderson begins the chapter with an exterior extreme long shot of the hotel, in order to establish the setting. From this establishing shot, the viewer is informed of the fact that the rest of the scene will take place from within the hotel. After this, we enter a sequence of rapid straight cuts of items such as a bell, a pigeon hole and a shaker, all of which are embossed with the “ZZ” insignia. This montage-like sequence informs us that the fascist group are indeed present within the hotel.

We then cut to a sequence of fairly short continuity cuts during which Agatha presents the hotel guard with a Mendl’s cake. Simultaneously, the scene with M. Chuck is taking place, through which the two sequences of continuity editing become a parallel edit. Anderson then cuts to a single sequence of continuity editing of Agatha walking up the stairs and into the storeroom.

Anderson then makes use of a glance object shot, having Agatha glance at the note and subsequently cutting to a closeup of the note. This allows the viewer to read the note for themselves and understand the important details written upon it. We then cut to another two sequences of continuity editing (Agatha upstairs, Dimitri and M. Chuck downstairs) which converges in another sequence of parallel editing.

During the conversation between Dimitri and M. Chuck, Anderson makes use of an editorial technique known as an “insert”. We are shown the mugshot of Agatha to inform us of the fact that Dimitri is aware of her existence, however the characters on-screen are unable to see this. Afterwards, an unconventional chase sequence ensues between Dimitri and Agatha during which Wes chooses to avoid the use of edits and instead decides to implement longer takes, as well as camera movements. For example, Anderson uses a two-shot in place of a shot/reverse shot sequence to avoid editing.

After utilising two reaction shots for Dimitri and Agatha respectively, the viewer can empathise with the both of them. We then cut to another slow chase sequence in the hotel hallway in which Anderson employs long takes and infrequent edits. It is interesting to make note of the fact that the few cuts used are in time with the music. During this, parallel editing is present between the chase and the other ZZ soldiers pursuing Gustave and Zero.

Anderson then makes use of a zoom honing in on Gustave and Zero, during which the pace of editing quickens for chaotic effect. Afterwards, a shot/reverse shot sequence between Dimitri and Gustave takes place to establish continuity. A satisfying rhythm is created during this sequence when the men with guns enter through the expert use of cuts and sound design choices.

When the shooting ends, the pacing of the editing slows as the camera pans 90º between each of the characters. Another sequence of parallel editing takes then occurs depicting Zero running around the hotel as well as Agatha outside hanging on the ledge. Through this, Anderson makes use of cross cutting to emphasise the concurrency of the scene.

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Sound

We were tasked to analyse the sound from the 25th and 26th chapter of The Grand Budapest Hotel. In class, we discussed the deliberate and considered use of diegetic and non-diegetic sound throughout.

Chapters 25-26: The Remote Foothills

The first use of sound featured in the chapter is the implementation of Alexandre Desplat’s non-diegetic composed score. Featured throughout the entire duration of the two chapters, Desplat’s score can be described as dark in nature as well as layered. For example, the pulsing rhythm employed in the first scene perfectly matches the on-screen visuals. Furthermore, the utilisation of particular instrumentation such as a pipe organ foreshadows Gustave and Zero’s later visit to a church.

Anderson expertly makes use of layered diegetic wind sounds, as well as subtle ambient sound effects in order to attract the audience’s attention. The first scene also uses diegetic dialogue as well as emphasised diegetic sound effects attributed to Joplin’s character. Examples including the brandy bottle and the coat poppers attribute a sense of menace to his character.

It is also important to make note of the fact that only the objects of diegetic significance receive sounds, such as the coins as well as the crunching snow. During the startup of the motorbike engine, Anderson interestingly cuts off the sound as the shot cuts to the jarring train whistle. This is then followed by the non-diegetic narration from Zero, during which the other sounds decrease in the mix.

As the train comes to a halt, the diegetic sounds of hissing steam and brakes increase in the mix. During which, the repeated rhythmic pulsing score give the film a playful pace. The score reduces in the mix as the train door opens to reveal Henckels’s character. The emphasised diegetic sniffs inform the viewer that the ZZ is now aware of Gustave’s presence.

As we cut to an extreme long shot of the observatory, the mix becomes more echoey. The movement temporarily stops, during which the diegetic wind ambience is attributed. Due to the fact that the characters are far away, the dialogue decreases in the mix and increases as we move in closer. As a new character enters, the diegetic footsteps become gradually louder to focus our attention.

As our characters are instructed towards their next goal, the non-diegetic composed score rises in the mix to create a loud and dramatic atmosphere. Anderson then interestingly makes the stylistic choice to make the screeching of the cable car occur in time with the score. This exemplifies the rhythmic flow of the film and instills satisfaction within the viewer.

The score rises in the mix as the characters approach their destination. It also illustrates a sense of playfulness to perfectly match the cartoon-like nature of the characters. As the characters enter the church, the timbre of the now diegetic score becomes echoed a capella voices. As the characters sit down, the score lowers in the mix to a single voice to focus the viewer’s attention on the ensuing conversation between the characters.

The movement stops as we cut to the confession booth, in doing so the dominant sound that can be heard is the diegetic dialogue which is accompanied by a very low, mournful score. The score then slowly rises in the mix as Gustave makes the revolution that there is a second will. As the scene cuts to black, we are forced to picture the scene as we hear the diegetic sound of the body falling . As the chase ensues, the driving percussive elements of the score increase and proceeds to stop as the movement stops.

The Grand Budapest Hotel: Cinematography

We were tasked to analyse the cinematography from the 21st chapter of The Grand Budapest Hotel. We discussed each individual shot in class and analysed the employed cinematographic techniques throughout.

Chapter 21: Check-Point 19 Supply Depot

In the first long shot, Anderson establishes a symmetrical frame with in a frame. The ratio is 4:3 to inform the audience of the time period (1932). Our attention is then focused on a car which enters the frame towards the centre. The camera then pans 90º to the right, through which our attention is now drawn towards the manhole cover illuminated from above. The camera then dollies forward to allow the viewer to read the text on the manhole cover. Zero then enters the frame to the left and peers into the manhole.

Anderson then cuts to a symmetrically framed long shot of the prison cell interior, in which more frames within frames are featured. The lights then go out while the actors perform highly choreographed movements in order to escape. As the lantern is lit, the viewer’s attention is focused towards the hole in the ground. The camera then pedestals down, following the centrally framed lantern through the floor and into the tunnel.

We then cut to a centrally framed, symmetrically composed closeup of a conveniently illuminated and labelled button, expertly focusing our attention.

The camera then crabs right to reveal the labelled dumbwaiter, through which another frame within a frame is composed. The viewer’s eyes are drawn directly to this specific location, as a character then enters the frame through the dumbwaiter. The camera then crabs back left, resting on the symmetrically framed door. As the camera continues to crab left, we follow the running men as we come to rest on the ladder.

It then cuts to a symmetrically composed frame of the prison gallery, through which our attention is directed to the centre. The long ladder then descends through the established frame. We then cut to a different view of the ladder, which presents us with a labelled wall, in order to inform the viewer of the location.

Anderson cuts to the opposite 180º angle, breaking the 180º rule in the process. Through a symmetrically constructed frame within a frame, our attention is focused on the smaller frame through which a character appears. A shot/reverse shot sequence then takes place, between the escapees and the prisoner, in which the characters are framed appropriately.

We then cut to a wide shot through which the characters enter the frame. The camera pans 90º and rests on a labelled lift door. We then dolly forward into the guard bunk room. The frame is dimly lit and the shadows are meticulously framed as the characters nimbly navigate their way through the bunk room. The film then cuts to a low angle shot of the men crawling under the bunks.

We cut to a frame within a frame of the characters cutting the prison bars in sync. It then cuts to a wider shot in order to show the frame in the larger context of the prison wall. The characters then throw the long ladder outside.

Anderson cuts to a birds-eye-view shot which shows the colossal height of the building as well as the length of the ladder. The frame is conveniently lit to show the path. We then cut to an extreme long shot which shows the men climbing down the side of the building, emphasising the sheer size of the prison.

It cuts to a shot depicting the windows as the escapees climb along the edge, the camera then crabs right to show the progress. The frame within a frame features a conveniently labelled steam vent.

A wide shot is established to portray the laundry basket landing point, our attention is focused on this centrally framed area. The men enter the frame downwards through the vent which is lit from above. As the characters land, they are symmetrically placed. We then pedestal down to reveal a centrally framed trapdoor.

We then cut to a worms-eye view frame within a frame of the prisoners looking down the trapdoor. A sequence which alternates between birds-eye and worms-eye shots then occurs. The trapdoor remains consistent and the characters are symmetrically positioned.

The film cuts to a wide shot, through which a prisoner armed with a knife enters. We cut to a worms-eye view portraying the other characters’ reactions in which they are all still symmetrically placed. Finally, a birds-eye shot displays the aftermath of the stabbings.

The Grand Budapest Hotel Inspector

Throughout the film, Wes Anderson makes reference to a number of contextual ideas. These include:

Cultural/Social

What sort of person might have stayed at The Grand Budapest Hotel? What sort of lifestyle does the film evoke?

The hotel is home to many aristocratic, wealthy guests which reinforces the theme of class portrayed throughout the film.

The film evokes a life of extravagance and oozes style throughout. The vibrant colour palette emphasises the upper class society in which the inhabitants of the film are members of.

Historical/Political

Was there a real “Grand Budapest Hotel”? What inspired the filmmakers?

The “Grand Budapest Hotel” is indeed fictitious, however many elements of the film take influence from the style of Karlovy Vary, the colorful spa town in the Czech Republic, primarily the Grandhotel Pupp. In addition to this, the model of the hotel featured in the poster of the film, is the historic Bristol Palace Hotel.

*Grandhotel Pupp and Bristol Palace Hotel*

What key historical events are portrayed in the film?

The main historical event portrayed throughout The Grand Budapest Hotel is the stylistic portrayal of a fascist army which holds a strong resemblance to the Nazis. The costumes are emblazoned with a “ZZ” insignia not unlike the SS. It is interesting to make note of the fact that they are never referred to as “Nazis”, it is only subtly implied.

Institutional

How does The Grand Budapest Hotel fit into Wes Anderson’s canon of work?

The Grand Budapest Hotel is Wes Anderson’s eighth film and is considered by many to be his magnum opus. Through the use of an array of aspect ratios, an ostentatious colour palette and a vast ensemble cast, Anderson forges an unforgettable cinematic experience appreciated by critics and audiences alike.

Technical

What interesting technical techniques does Wes Anderson employ to tell the story?

Wes Anderson uses a number of techniques throughout the film such as lighting, depth of field and narrative editing in order to reflect Zero’s emotional recollection of events. Anderson often establishes a frame within a frame and focus the audience’s attention by having an object enter the frame, which is often accentuated by convenient lighting.

The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson, 2014)

The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson, 2014) is a crime/comedy detailing the adventure of an eccentric concierge and his newly befriended lobby boy protégé. The film contains an ensemble cast containing the likes of Ralph Fiennes, Bill Murray, Edward Norton and Saoirse Ronan to name but a few.

We follow an unnamed author (Jude Law) who is interviewing Zero – the owner of the prestigious Grand Budapest. We learn the story of M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), the famed concierge of the hotel and a young Zero (Gustave’s newly appointed protégé) in a daring and adventurous rags to riches quest.

Wes Anderson uses many interesting techniques throughout the film. Firstly, the narrative structure of the film is nonlinear as we flick back and forth between three key time periods: 1932, 1968 and 1985. Anderson expertly makes use of three different aspect ratios for each time period in order to subtly inform the viewer when each on-screen event is taking place.

*Use of aspect ratios in The Grand Budapest Hotel*

The film’s aesthetics are enchanting throughout. Anderson makes full use of the key elements of film form, predominantly the cinematography and mise-en-scène to produce a emphatic and flamboyant impact.

*Use of cinematography*, *framing and mise-en-scène*

Being only 7 years old at the time of writing, The Grand Budapest Hotel will surely become a cult classic in the future. The filmmaking is nothing short of masterclass and each shot of the film could be a framed piece of artwork. Wes Anderson’s legacy will surely inspire aspiring auteurs to shape the future of cinema.

The film explores themes of class and wealth throughout, emphasising the occupants of the hotel as being members of upper-class society and illustrating the employees as subservient.

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Grand Budapest Hotel from start to finish. Each shot was visually breathtaking and the all-star ensemble cast were a joy to witness on-screen. However, I do personally believe that the plot at some points delved into the realm of being ‘convoluted for the sake of complexity’. Additionally, in my opinion, a large part of the film’s selling point is the eclectic cast and I think it would not be as critically acclaimed without it. In saying that, I would highly recommend the film to anyone purely from the aesthetics alone.

My favourite sequence would perhaps be the fantastic ski chase scene. Anderson intelligently makes use of many filmic elements – particularly editing and special effects to construct a tense and enthralling sequence.

Overall, I would rate The Grand Budapest Hotel ★★★★.

Perfect Blue: Appearances vs Reality ★★★★½

Perfect Blue (Satoshi Kon, 1997) is a psychological thriller produced by the animation studio Madhouse. Inspiring future directors such as Darren Aronofsky to create the likes of Black Swan and Requiem for a Dream, Perfect Blue is not only a staple of the medium of anime, but a staple of the psychological thriller genre as a whole.

We follow our protagonist, Mima Kirigoe as she decides to leave the Japanese pop idol group ‘CHAM!’ in order to pursue an acting career. As the film progresses, Mima begins to notice things out of the ordinary and becomes victim to stalkers. Additionally, brutal murders begin to occur and Mima begins to lose her grip on reality.

The film tackles many powerful themes, predominantly the idea of appearances vs reality and preserving your idealistic ‘avatar’. Since its release in 1997, this idea has only become more apparent in today’s online society as we all carefully purport a sense of flawlessness through the use of social media.

*Appearances vs Reality within Perfect Blue*

Throughout Perfect Blue’s mere 80 minute runtime, Kon manages to tell an enthralling and captivating story through a number of interesting techniques. Through clever use of editing, you never quite know if what you’re seeing is the reality of the situation or whether it is merely the distorted perception of the world Mima holds. Kon takes inspiration from auteurs such as Lynch and Kubrick to construct a mind-bending mystery.

Cinematographer Hisao Shirai also does a fantastic job throughout the film. In the above picture, Shirai expertly makes use of reflections to reinforce the main theme of duality throughout the film. Furthermore, the way the light reflects the exterior buildings in the window makes for a breathtaking visual and keeps you intrigued.

Satoshi Kon’s striking debut film led to the aforementioned Darren Aronofsky buying the rights to Perfect Blue, primarily to recreate the infamous bathtub scene in Black Swan. In addition, both films contain a colour in the title as well as a similarly named central protagonist (Mima and Nina) obsessed with achieving perfection.

Overall, Perfect Blue is a fantastic film that does not overstay its welcome and expertly crafts an emotional and psychedelic mystery. Mima’s character is subtly developed throughout and the film carefully rises to a shocking crescendo presented in the final act.

Little Green Bag

My recreated Reservoir Dogs opening

We were tasked to recreate the opening sequence from Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, 1992). The scene consists of the characters walking in slow motion to a car. It focuses in on each character individuallywith accompanying title cards. The scene contains no diegetic sound and is accompanied by the non-diegetic song Little Green Bag by George Baker Selection.

In groups of eight, we spent a lesson planning the logistics of filming. The discussion included costumes, props, filming locations and shots. The two chosen filming locations were the canteen and school entrance.

After overcoming a few small hurdles such as creative disputes, the filming process progressed smoothly and we captured all the necessary footage after one lesson.

Making use of transitions, key frames, overlay titles and slow motion I edited the film together using LumaFusion and produced a final product as accurate to the original as possible.

City Of God: Meaning And Response (Representation)

We were tasked in groups of two to share ideas about how representation is presented within City of God. Specifically answering the questions asked in the mind map below, we considered how representation can be perceived in many different ways across the film.

Core Study Area: Meaning And Response (Representation)

Representation can be defined as how the world of the film is presented to the spectator. This can be done through techniques such as embracing or denouncing common stereotypes associated with the themes presented throughout the film.

Representation in film refers to many topics such as age, culture, ethnicity and gender.

City of God: Meaning and Response (Aesthetics)

We were tasked to consider the general aesthetics of City of God and apply them to the specific questions asked in this mind map.

Core Study Area: Meaning and Response (Aesthetics)

Aesthetics can be defined as the general look, mood and feel of a film stylised by the film’s key elements. In the context of an exam, this entails discussing the five key elements of film together – as opposed to focusing in on a single element.

City of God: Contexts of Film

We were tasked to consider the key contexts of City of God, specifically considering what questions we would have to ask to further understand the contextual aspects of the film.

Core Study Area: Contexts of Film

Social Definition: How films can communicate truths about the society they portray and are influenced by the society in which they are produced.

For example: Sorry We Missed You (Ken Loach, 2019) explores the contemporary problems of zero-hour contracts and poverty.

For example: The Breakfast Club (John Hughes, 1985) contains casual racism and homophobia that was common in teen comedies of the 1980s.

Cultural Definition: How films can communicate messages and values.

For example: the strong message of equality and tolerance in recent Marvel films.

Historical Definition: How films portray history and are representative of the period in which they are produced.

For example: Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan, 2017) explores from a modern perspective the experiences of soldiers retreating from an approaching army in the Second World War.

Political Definition: How films portray and are influenced by the politics of the society in which they are produced.

For example: The Hurt Locker (Katheryn Bigelow, 2009) questions the role of American soldiers in combat.

Technological Definition: How films are influenced and limited by the technology available at the time of their production.

For example: the increasing use of CGI, 3G and IMAX in films at the beginning of the 21st Century.

Institutional Definition: How films are reflective of the industry in which they were produced.

For example: the highly stylised 1960s Hammer Horrors and the superhero focus of Marvel studios.

City of God: Key Elements of Film Form

We were tasked to rewatch the opening scene of City of God and in small groups were assigned to comment on one particular element of film form. In my group, we were assigned the element of mise-en-scène.

After sharing our ideas with the rest of the class, we compiled the ideas into a mind map.

Dune (2021) ★★★★

Dune (2021, Denis Villeneuve) is the first instalment of a sci-fi epic based on the classic 1965 novel of the same name written by Frank Herbert. With an all-star cast including Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson and Oscar Isaac bringing stellar performances to the table, Dune establishes an excellent foundation for Villeneuve to build upon in the future.

The central protagonist of Dune is Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto who rules House Atreides, who have just been granted the desert planet Arrakis. Arrakis (otherwise known as Dune) is habitat to the most valuable commodity in the universe, the spice Melange which preserves life and makes interstellar travel possible. Whoever controls Arrakis controls the spice, and whoever controls the spice controls the universe.

Dune is a profound visual spectacle, with every shot being meticulously crafted and visually intriguing. Villeneuve and Greig Fraser (cinematographer) cleverly utilise both practical effects and CGI to create the perfect blend of tactility and visual flair.

From an auditory standpoint, Dune also excels. Villeneuve diligently uses emphatic diegetic sound such as the sand thumpers and ripples and powerful non-diegetic sound, such as Hans Zimmer’s expertly composed score. In an interview, Villeneuve expressed that he utilised Zimmer’s majestic score to replicate the heavy use of character internalisation by Frank Herbert in the original source material.

The film does, however, suffer from a few minor pacing issues. Being the first instalment of a larger franchise, Dune requires a significant amount of exposition and world-building in order to honour the legacy of the novel, which in some aspects hinders its ability to produce a compelling narrative akin to other ‘first films’ such as A New Hope or The Fellowship of the Ring. Other filmmakers in the past such as David Lynch have failed to accurately replicate the essence of Herbert’s ‘unfilmable’ epic, merely acting as a highlight reel of the events of the novel.

Overall, Dune is a fantastic sci-fi adventure which excels in the areas of cinematography, sound design, performance and mise-en-scène and I thoroughly await the newly-confirmed second instalment.

Core Study Area: Key Elements of Film Form

We were tasked with creating a mind map which details the Key Elements of Film Form.

These include:

Cinematography – deliberate and considered use of photography and lighting
Sound – deliberate and considered balance of diegetic and non-diegetic sound
Editing – deliberate and considered pacing and sequencing
Mise-en-scène – partial or complete control of environment
Performance – expressive use of voice, intonation, movement and physicality.

In Praise of City Of God

(Spoilers for City of God ahead)

City of God (Fernando Meirelles, 2002) is a Brazilian crime drama that details the life of Rocket, a young aspiring photographer living in the slums of Rio de Janeiro. He is faced by many challenges and obstacles across the course of his life, primarily the over-bearing presence of street gangs and hoodlums.

The events are recounted by Rocket himself, and we view the events of the film through his eyes. The film begins with the ending sequence, immediately establishing an interesting enigma and in doing so, creating a nonlinear narrative structure. This produces an interesting perspective for the viewer. The film additionally uses flashback sequences to convey important information to the audience.

The film additionally follows the harsh lives of other characters living in the slum such as Knockout Ned, Carrot, Shaggy and maybe most importantly, Li’l Zé. Arguably the most intriguing character in the film, Li’l Zé (previously known as Li’l Dice) is City of God’s main antagonist. He terrorises the streets of Rio throughout the film but the audience forges a personal connection with Li’l Zé and can empathise with him, due to the fact that his backstory is expertly crafted, and his reveal as the villain is delightfully unexpected.

The filmmakers additionally use many interesting techniques throughout. For example, during scenes in which Li’l Zé is the focus, Meirelles uses low-angle shots to emphasise his dominance over the other hoodlums of Rio. In addition, the director uses blurriness and deliberate unstable camera movements to reinforce the severity of certain scenes, such as the deaths of Shaggy and Benny. The dark lighting throughout these scenes also imply a sense of hopelessness.

*Benny’s death scene – dark lighting used for effect*

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed City of God from start to finish and the film kept me consistently intrigued and enthralled throughout. Meirelles’ gritty and realistic directorial style was immediately apparent and set the brutal, unforgiving tone for the duration of the film. My personal favourite scene was definitely “The Story of Li’l Zé” sequence, seeing as it completely caught me off guard and effectively developed him as an antagonist.

I think that the main message that Meirelles was trying to convey was the sheer brutality and barbarity of the Rio de Janeiro slums during the 60s and 70s. The film’s final scene conveys the message that the perpetual cycle of violence is eternal, and is passed down unto the next generation.

I would rate City of God ★★★★½.

Knock-Knock Again

After researching some key filmmaking techniques, we reshot our knock-knock joke short films, this time with added improvements and developments.

Firstly, we made use of both matching on action and the shot/reverse shot. Unfortunately, the 180º rule was briefly broken, but I was not behind the camera this time.

The Silence of the Lambs ★★★★½

The Silence of the Lambs (Demme, 1991) is a psychological horror/thriller starring Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins. The film, based on a 1988 novel of the same name, revolves around Clarice Starling, an FBI trainee who must acquire information from Dr Hannibal Lecter, a psychopathic criminal and former psychiatrist to locate and apprehend another serial killer known only as Buffalo Bill.

Clarice works in a male-dominated field of occupation and director Jonathan Demme makes this evident from the very start. Use of diligent cinematography emphasises the patriarchal society of the FBI and the theme of gender reoccurs throughout the duration of the film.

*Use of colour, mise-en-scène and framing to differentiate Clarice*

The film’s plot remains engaging and enthralling throughout, with intelligent use of tension and terror to illustrate a looming, hopeless atmosphere at the forefront of it all. Hannibal within the confines of his cell remains an extremely iconic image of cinema and is the most likely the first image you picture when discussing The Silence of the Lambs.

*Hannibal within the con*fines of his cell

The performances throughout the film are magnificent – specifically Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal. It’s no wonder that his mere sixteen minutes of screen time awarded him the prestigious Best Actor award at the Oscars. Hopkins’ cold, psychopathic demeanour can be perceived throughout the entire film, despite not featuring in the majority of scenes.

Additionally, Foster’s ruthless and fearless attitude instills courage within the audience, and the question of whether the killer will finally be caught keeps you engaged throughout.

The incredible cinematography of The Silence of the Lambs was shot by Tak Fujimoto. The film never feels the need to use cheap tricks such as jump-scares to terrify the audience, but instead, relies on much more nuanced and effective means to do so.

For example, the film uses a multitude of POV shots as well as close-ups to emphasise Lecter’s dominating presence. Fujimoto’s cinematography primarily accentuates characters’ eyes; this is done to induce fear within the audience, as well as show how fear has been induced within other characters. Furthermore, multiple shots use an interesting choice of lighting to illustrate an unsettling atmosphere.

*Lighting and cinematography within The Silence of the Lambs*

Match On Action

Matching or cutting on action is when the editor cuts from one shot to another view that matches the first shot’s action. An example of which being:

Man walks up to a door
Reaches the for knob
Hand touches the doorknob
The scene cuts to a shot of the door opening from the other side

The 180º Rule

The 180º rule is a general guideline regarding the on-screen spatial relationship between two characters within a scene. The rule involves keeping the camera on one side of an imaginary axis between the two characters.

In effect, the first character is always frame right of the second character. If you were to cross the imaginary axis with the camera, this is known as “breaking the 180º rule” and it visually confuses the audience as to where the characters are standing in relation to each other.

Shot/Reverse Shot

A shot/reverse shot is a film technique where one character is shown looking at another character (usually offscreen). The second character is then shown looking back at the first character. This leads the viewer to believe that the characters are facing each other.

Knock-Back

During the filming of our knock-knock short film, there were a number of variables which were done and well, as well as some which could be improved upon

What went well:

The close-up was well filmed (filled the frame)
Lines were delivered well
The boom mic was never in frame
Continuity was sound

What could be improved:

Tracking shot could’ve been filmed more effectively
180º rule was broken
More frame variety

Knock-Knock

We were assigned to plan, film, edit, and upload a sequence showing two characters coming together, telling a knock-knock joke, and departing.

We worked in groups of four and each had a dedicated role:

Director (me)
Boom Mic Operator (Grace)
Two actors (Finley and Georgia)

After an initial struggle of setting up the equipment and a few bloopers later, we produced a film utilising seven shots in total. We used a variety of shots such as two-shots, closeups and handheld tracking shots.

A Brief History Of Cinema

Cinema is a relatively new dominant art form, being around 130 years old. It is ever-evolving and was a revolutionary way in which humans could express themselves. It is also a knowable concept, due to the fact that the entire history of cinema is mapped out and is within our great-grandparents’ lifetimes.

*An early cinema – only one person was able to watch a film* *at a time*

The history of cinema starts in the 1800s, when photography was first invented. This was a revolutionary moment in history, as now you were able to capture a moment of reality. This was done through the process of exposing a camera obscura containing photosensitive chemicals to light. However, early photography took hours and the subject was forced to sit still for a prolonged period. Subsequently, photography quickly developed and soon enough became a business. Afterwards, people began to ponder the idea of moving images, and soon realised that if many images were sequenced together in rapid succession, it created the illusion of movement. This led to the production of early films – which were reminiscent of flip books.

By 1895, technologies were competing to produce moving images, however, it was a mere novelty at this point. There was no infrastructure, film now existed but was solely a “seaside attraction”. Despite this, film soon caught the imagination of the population and was consistently developed and commercialised. Two key pioneers for the film industry were the Lumiere brothers, who developed iconic early films such as Employees Leaving the Lumiere Factory and The Arrival of a Train. These short experiments did not tell a story of any kind, but merely showed the audience of the late 19th Century what film was capable of.

At this point in time, theatre was cheap entertainment and music halls were common place. As these attractions fell out of favour, music halls were replaced by cinemas and soon enough – every town had a cinema. Because of this, the snowball effect began to take place and there was a sudden explosion in both cinemas and film production. Particularly in America, film was recognised as an incredible business model and many entrepreneurs jumped straight to it. Filmmaking was quickly transformed into a factory assembly line in which the studio completed every task. This was known as vertical integration and the money was gained from the public. The American film industry was constantly competing to be bigger, better and have more assets and this was done by spending the most amount of money. Every stereotypical trait that Hollywood is associated with (glamour, scale, money etc.) originated from this point.

Another key trailblazer in the world of filmmaking was George Melies, who invented both substitution splices and double-exposure: two key techniques in modern day cinema. Melies’ most iconic work was A Trip To The Moon (1902) which made great use of both techniques.

During 1900-1910, cinema went from being the “theatre of attractions” to narrative-driven. Films were no longer a series of stills – technology had greatly advanced and full stories were being told. 35mm film was used to shoot, process and produce films. Physical film was used for mainstream cinema up until about 15 years ago until digital filming was used. In order for the human eye to be fooled into perceiving a sequence of images as movement, 24 images must be displayed every second.

By 1920, film was the most popular art form in the Western world due to the fact that it was accessible to everyone. However, colour and sound were problems to be solved. The idea of painting sets was briefly considered, but was deemed far too impractical. Dubbing was also attempted to solve the sound problem, but this didn’t work. At this point, all films were shot in 4:3 aspect ratio (square), as widescreen wasn’t considered until much later.

Throughout the later 20th Century, cinema continuously developed and many problems were solved. The first film with synchronised sound was released in 1927 and two key actors who were famous before and after sound were the comedy duo Laurel & Hardy. Film was used for World War propaganda, as well as many other commercial items.

However, the invention of the television instantly established itself as the main opponent for the film industry. Initially, TVs were far too expensive for the average person, but by the 1950s most average families owned a television. Ticket sales began to decline as there was no reason to go the cinema anymore when you could watch the latest films from the comfort of your own home.

The film industry constantly attempted to overcome the TV problem by initially making cinema screens much wider than TV screens. Going to the cinema now became a prestigious event, rather than a day-to-day activity. New films were additionally not shown on television until many months down the line, this was done to increase cinematic demand. The film industry also briefly dabbled in 3D, but this wasn’t commercially viable.

By the 1970s, VCR was a new competitor for the film industry and video rental shops, such as Blockbuster, dominated the market. As each new obstacle arose, cinema threw money at the problem to counteract it. However, this ultimately failed and by the 1980s, almost every cinema in the UK closed down.

In present day society, the film industry faces many opponents such as TV channels, internet and streaming services.

Cold War Hot Take

Cold War (Pawel Pawlikowski, 2018) is a Polish drama that explores the relationship between two characters: Zula and Wiktor during the period between the end of WW2 and the beginning of the Cold War. Throughout these years, we witness the tumultuous romance between Zula and Wiktor as their relationship develops and devolves throughout the duration of the film.

The film uses many interesting techniques to portray the time period accurately. Firstly, the film uses 4:3 aspect ratio, and it is also in black and white. These two cinematographic choices are typically associated with early filmmaking, due to the fact that these were the only options available at the time. This contributes to the film’s authenticity; as well as creating an aesthetically pleasing frame.

The film incorporates a number of prolepses throughout, which effectively and efficiently conveys the passing of time and emphasises how estranged the pair’s relationship becomes. Clever use of hair, costume design and makeup is also utilised to illustrate similar effects.

I personally reacted to the film in a mixed way. The film was consistently visually striking throughout and the performances (albeit in Polish) were excellent. However, I found myself losing interest periodically throughout the film due to the fact the events that took place throughout were relatively mundane, and the story didn’t particularly develop until the last 10 minutes. Although the arguments between the pair were compelling, I didn’t particularly connect with either character. Consequently, I didn’t have an investment in the film and this was detrimental to my overall opinion of it.

I think that the filmmakers were trying to emphasise the brutality of post-war life, as well as nullify the preconceived stigma of typical romance portrayed throughout cinema during this time period. Everything isn’t a happy love story, and Pawlikowski expertly conveys this message throughout the film.

Overall, I would rate Cold War ★★★½.

We Didn’t Start The Fire

We were assigned to gather images to represent each lyric of We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel. This was done in small groups through a shared Dropbox folder. We then edited the images together in iMovie sequencing each image to the rhythm of the music.

My video

Prisoners ★★★★½

The most recent film that I watched was Prisoners (Denis Villeneuve, 2013). It is a crime thriller starring Hugh Jackman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Paul Dano and Maria Bello.

*Detective Loki (Gyllenhaal) and Keller Dover (Jackman)*

The plot of the film is simple at face value – an unknown suspect has abducted two young girls – one being the daughter of our main protagonist: Keller Dover, and the other being the daughter of Dover’s friends Franklin and Nancy Birch. The police take a young suspect into custody immediately (Paul Dano) and release him soon after. Keller, adamant that the police have just released the true suspect, then decides to take matters into his own hands.

This simple yet effective mystery is expertly explored throughout the duration of the film. Prisoners gives you so many subtle hints throughout, and keeps you guessing until the very end. The film never feels the need to spoon-feed you crucial information throughout. Instead, the audience is required to put the pieces together in their own minds and the ending is just ambiguous enough to leave you wondering.

The acting performances from everyone throughout the film – especially Jackman and Gyllenhaal – are masterclass. The raw and genuine desperation of Keller Dover is clearly conveyed through Jackman’s performance and Detective Loki’s ruthlessness is portrayed expertly by Gyllenhaal.

The beautiful cinematography of Prisoners was shot by the one and only: Roger Deakins. His many masterful techniques throughout the film include frequent shooting through dirty glass, frames within frames and muted colour palettes (browns, greys, etc.) All of these techniques work in tandem throughout the film to emphasise the hopelessness of Dover’s situation and the reoccurring pathetic fallacy of rain emphasises the desperation of each main character – primarily Loki and Dover.

A Gathering Storm

I am studying the Eduqas A-Level Film Studies course. This specification is made up of two examined components, as well as a third coursework component.

Component 1 is entitled Varieties of Film and Filmmaking and is worth 35% of the A-Level qualification.

Component 2 is entitled Global Filmmaking Perspectives and is also worth 35%.

Component 3 (Production), requires independent work and is worth 30%.

The two exams assess knowledge on 14 films; ranging from many categories. Three assessment objectives are measured here, these include:

AO1 – demonstrate knowledge and understanding of elements of film.

AO2 – apply knowledge and understanding of elements of film to:

analyse and compare films, including through the use of critical approaches.
evaluate the significance of critical approaches
analyse and evaluate own work in relation to other professionally produced work

AO3 – apply knowledge and understanding of elements of film to the production of a film or screenplay.

Throughout the course, the key elements of film form will be assessed. These include:

Cinematography – deliberate and considered use of photography and lighting
Editing – deliberate and considered pacing and sequencing
Sound – deliberate and considered balance of diegetic and non-diegetic sound
Mise-en-scène – partial or complete control of environment
Performance – expressive use of voice, intonation, movement and physicality

The final component of the course is the filmmaking coursework aspect. This will entail the production of a 5 minute short film in which every aspect will be overseen by me alone. These aspects include:

Research
Pre-production
Production
Post-production
Evaluative analysis
Submission

Parasite Paragraphs

Parasite (2019, Bong Joon-Ho) is a Korean comedy/thriller, which won Best Picture in the 2020 Oscar Academy Awards. It is renowned for being the first foreign film to win this prestigious award and this marks a key point in history. The film revolves around the struggling Kim family who seek out an opportunity to usurp the places of the working class members who serve the wealthy Park family.

A family gathers around an object on the floor. — *Parasite (2019)* ★★★★★

The narrative format and structure of Parasite is extremely interesting. The film is initially established as a light-hearted comedy in which the Kim family frolic their way into a position of power, in which each family member occupies a different role. Ki-taek becomes the family’s chauffeur, Choong-sook becomes the maid, Ki-jung becomes the son’s art therapist and Ki-woo becomes the daughter’s English tutor.

However, near the end of the film’s second act, Parasite undergoes a dramatic tonal shift. The film shifts from a light-hearted comedy to a suspenseful thriller. Bong expertly executes this a naturally subtle way, through the narrative device of the video call between Choong-sook and Moon-gwang.

Personally, I was absolutely enthralled with Parasite from the first second until the last. Over the course of the film’s 2hr 12min runtime, I was highly entertained with every scene which were all crucial to the film’s plot. Parasite is a masterclass when it comes to pacing – no scene drags on for too long or rushes by too quickly; and this is perfectly demonstrated in the film’s 5 minute montage near the middle.

I think that the meaning Bong Joon-ho was trying to convey throughout the film was the social hierarchy portrayed throughout South Korea. The tonal dissonance in the film could potentially be a metaphor, with the wholesome comedy section representing the rose-tinted life that the Park family happily live through; whereas the Kim family’s poverty-stricken lifestyle is represented by the suspenseful and intense second half.

Auteur or Not?

An auteur is defined as a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author. Some classic auteurs include Alfred Hitchcock, Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Nolan; due to their extremely characteristic directorial traits.

My chosen auteur candidate is Susanne Bier. She is a director, screenwriter and producer from Denmark, who is best known for films such as Bird Box, Brothers, After the Wedding and In a Better World. She is also the director of the HBO minseries The Undoing and the AMC miniseries The Night Manager.

Her typical genres includes dramas, romance, thrillers and occasionally horror and war. Films such as Bird Box (2018) use tension to build atmosphere, as well as interwoven storylines of past and present to create a thrilling mystery. Bier’s visual flair in other films such as Brothers uses a combination of stylistic choices such as Dogme light and various small montages and extreme close-ups.

However, in my opinion, I think that Susanne Bier cannot be considered an auteur due to the fact that her films do not particularly make use of unique and creative cinematography and her stylistic choices do not particularly stand out from the crowd. Additionally, she is not the writer for many of her films, such as Bird Box which was based upon a novel of the same name written by Josh Malerman.

Reel Life

The first film that I saw in the cinema was Toy Story 3 (Lee Unkrich, 2010). I don’t have many clear memories of my first time watching the film, however, I remember really enjoying the cinema experience and seeing a film on the big screen for the first time. In my opinion, the film holds up extremely well and the ending makes me tear up every time I watch it. The characters and setting are both timeless and I revisit the trilogy every year or so.

The film that has had the most emotional impact upon me is Whiplash (Damien Chazelle, 2014). I watched it for the first time about a year ago and I was utterly astounded. I have a personal relationship to the film due to the fact that I play the drums and I could relate to the struggles and challenges that Andrew Neimon had to overcome during the course of the film. I absolutely adore the film’s cinematography, pacing, as well as the phenomenal performances from Miles Teller and JK Simmons.

A relatively underrated film that I enjoy is Phone Booth (Joel Schumacher, 2002). It is a psychological thriller that takes place in one single location: a public phone booth. What I like about the film is that it is very short (1hr 21 mins), meaning that it doesn’t overstay its welcome and is completely self contained. The film expertly uses tension to build atmosphere and it ultimately results in a satisfying conclusion.

Hello World!

Hello! My name is Otis Morley and I am an avid lover of film who has decided to study Film Studies at A-Level. This blog will contain all of the work needed to complete the course, as well as anything related to film in general.