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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
How far does your chosen documentary demonstrate elements of one or more filmmaker’s theories you have studied?
Autumn 2020
Essay plan
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.
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 – often employing another co-director.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
Discuss how aesthetics are used to communicate themes in your two chosen films. Make detailed reference to particular sequences in your answer.
Summer 2019
Essay plan
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
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.
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 FrenchDispatch (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.
“Las ratas”
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.
The ‘Dirty War’ of 1974
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.
Wealth divide presented in Wild Tales
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.
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
Essay plan
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Our first look at Gustave and Zero
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
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.
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.
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.
The “ZZ”
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.
Wes Anderson filmography
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)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.
Grand Budapest poster
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.
Ski chase scene
Overall, I would rate The Grand Budapest Hotel ★★★★.
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.
Otis Morley’s A-Level Film Studies Blog 
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