auteur

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.

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.

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.

*Behind the scenes of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)*

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.

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.

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 (“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.

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.

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*

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*

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.

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

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.

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: “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 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.

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.

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.