The closing sequence of This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) serves as an epilogue, tying up loose ends and giving closure to the film’s characters. It also has a wider social commentary on nationalism and the effects it can have on working-class communities. The sequence includes montages of images depicting life in England, newsreel footage of the Falklands War, and the return of soldiers from the war. The final shot displays Shaun throwing a British flag into the water, symbolising his rejection of a nationalist ideology.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist
The closing sequence of the film is a scathing critique of nationalism and its effects on working-class communities. Shane Meadows utilises montages of images depicting working-class poverty in England against the backdrop of the Falklands War. The newsreel footage of the Falklands War also serves as a commentary on the dangers of patriotism. The footage shows a soldier erecting a British flag on a tiny town hall in a village – the viewer is encouraged to question the validity of the British victory.
The victory in the war is visually compared with the pointless violence of Combo and his gang, highlighting the futility of nationalist ideologies. This message is further reinforced by the final shot of Shaun throwing the British flag into the water, symbolising his ultimate rejection of a nationalist ideology.
The use of symbolism in the sequence is also notable. The film’s title, “This is England,” is a reference to Combo’s rhetoric of English pride and patriotism that film attempts to ultimately reject. However, the film shows the grim reality of working-class life in England and the dangers of blindly following nationalist ideologies. The rejection of nationalism by Shaun is also reflected in his appearance, as he is dressed differently from his racist attire in the film. This transformation represents the rejection of nationalist ideologies and the embracing of a more inclusive identity.
The film’s ideology also presents no room for disagreement, with Shaun’s final action symbolically communicating a rejection of British pride and patriotism. Meadows shows no interest in leaving his anti-nationalist agenda up for interpretation or debate, bolstered by the film’s use of a notably manipulative non-diegetic score.
Narrative Analysis
The closing sequence of This is England begins with a montage made up of newsreel footage that mirrors the opening sequence of the film. This footage also adds a layer of authenticity to the film’s narrative, serving as a commentary on the dangers of patriotism and its effects on working-class communities. The return of soldiers from the war also ties into the film’s themes of masculinity and violence, as we see the effects of war on soldiers and their families.
The final shot of Shaun throwing the British flag into the water is a powerful conclusion to the film’s narrative. It serves as a symbol of Shaun’s rejection of nationalist ideologies and his acceptance of a more inclusive identity. The shot also leaves a lasting impression on the audience, highlighting the dangers of nationalist indoctrination.
The ‘Racist Bother Montage’ sequence is a pivotal moment in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007). The sequence takes place after one of the members of the group, Combo, returns from prison with newfound racist beliefs. The scene depicts the group’s descent into racism, as they begin to target immigrants and other minority groups. The scene is significant as it highlights the danger of groupthink and indoctrination, and its impact on impressionable young people.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist
The sequence primary serves as the ultimate indictment of nationalism, racism, and the toxic ideology that is often associated with it. The sequence is a critique of the rise of far-right movements, the dangers of groupthink and the indoctrination of young people into extremist ideologies. Meadows uses a variety of techniques to convey this message.
The camera work is gliding, graceful and carefully framed, as seen in previous montages earlier in the film. This creates a sense of unease and discomfort for the audience, as they forced to confront to the racism head-on. The film highlights the absurdity of racism, by portraying the skinheads as a group of pathetic losers. The group initially seems intimidating especially when in a large groups, most evidently when they bully the women in an underpass. However, they are individually pathetic and dim witted, as evidenced by their misspelled graffiti. This technique serves to undermine the group’s power and authority.
Meadows also depicts the indoctrination of Shaun, as he is taught racist phrases and is trained in the ways of racist hate crime. The grown men’s threats and bullying of children is also a powerful critique of their racist ideology. The overlay of racist graffiti imagery, symbolically conveying Shaun’s gradual descent into the racist culture. This technique serves to further highlight the dangers of racism and its potential for destruction.
Meadows provides an apt critique of nationalism and racism, highlighting their dangers and their potential to harm individuals and society. In effect, this creates a sense of unease and discomfort, as the audience is forced witness the repugnance of racism and the danger of extremist ideologies.
Narrative Analysis
The ‘Racist Bother’ sequence is also crucial moment in the film’s narrative structure. The scene serves as a turning point for Shaun’s character, as he is exposed to the dark side of the skinhead movement. The sequence is shot in a way that creates a sense of tension and unease, as the audience becomes aware of the group’s descent into racism.
The use of a manipulative non-diegetic score serves to heighten the tension and create a sense of foreboding. The music is used to underscore the dangers of extremist ideologies and their potential for destruction. The scene is shot in a way that highlights the danger of groupthink and indoctrination.
The ‘Combo’s story’ sequence in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) introduces us to Combo, a repugnant nationalist that serves as the film’s primary antagonist. He gatecrashes Woody’s party after being released from prison and tells the gang a story, during which his racist disposition is revealed. The sequence is a turning point in the film’s narrative, as Combo’s actions and beliefs have a significant impact on the story’s direction. The sequence also highlights the film’s anti-nationalist ideology and exemplifies its narrative structure.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist
The sequence supports an anti-nationalist ideological approach by showcasing the negative impact of nationalism and racism. Shane Meadows, intended to expose the flaws of British society during the 1980s and how nationalism and racism played a role in dividing the country. This sequence achieves this by showing Combo’s true character, highlighting his malice and bigotry towards minorities. The use of handheld cameras contrasts the gliding Steadicam shots during the preceding montage, emphasising Combo’s raw and unpolished nature.
Combo’s enunciation of racial epithets is particularly striking and showcases his true beliefs. This scene highlights Combo’s malice and bigotry, illustrating how nationalism and racism can create an atmosphere of hate and division. The closeups of his face and the brief reactionary cutaways show a clear divide among the characters. Woody, Lol, and Milky show visible opposition, while Pukey laughs at Combo’s racist caricature. This scene also highlights the power of peer pressure and how it can influence an individual’s beliefs and actions.
The non-diegetic piano score is particularly manipulative, being an exception to the film’s footing in British social realism, emphasizing the emotional impact of Combo’s actions on the audience. Meadows’ intentions are to make the audience feel uncomfortable and disgusted with Combo’s actions, which are meant to highlight the negative consequences of nationalism and racism.
Narrative Analysis
The sequence also exemplifies the narrative structure of the film by serving as a turning point in the story. Combo’s gatecrash instantly creates a threatening atmosphere, revealing his repugnant character to the audience. The focus on Combo receiving the majority of screen time also highlights his importance in the story’s direction. When he is interrupted by Shaun, a 12-year-old, and show visible annoyance, Combo’s insecurity and vulnerability is emphasised.
The use of tight close-ups of Combo’s mouth at eye level emphasizes the hatred and emphasis on racial epithets, showcasing the intensity of the scene. The subduing of diegetic sound is a departure from British social realism, emphasising the emotional impact of the scene on the audience. This creates a powerful and emotional scene that highlights the negative impact of nationalism and racism.
The “fun with friends montage” sequence in This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) is a pivotal moment in the film’s narrative structure. We follows our protagonist, Shaun, as he becomes accepted into a surrogate family of skinheads, who take him under their wing. This sequence marks a turning point for Shaun, who has now found acceptance within the group of skinheads.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist
The sequence’s choice of music is significant as it reinforces the anti-nationalist ideology of the film. The music is similar to the opening sequence, featuring a non-diegetic reggae song, a genre that emerged in Jamaica as a form of resistance to colonialism. The inclusion of reggae music in the film highlights the multicultural nature of the skinheads, rejecting the idea of a homogenous, racially pure national identity. The inclusion of diverse characters, including racial inclusivity, younger and older, male and female, also challenges to the idea of a homogenous nation.
The setting of the sequence against the backdrop of poverty and graffiti is significant as it highlights the the economic decline that permeated post-Thatcher Britain. The graffiti displays a protest against the established government order, reflecting a rejection of a traditional nationalist identity.
Narrative Analysis
The “fun with friends” sequence exemplifies the narrative structure of the film in multiple ways. Firstly, the use of montage and ellipses is significant as it compresses time and tells a story. The montage acts as chapter markers in the film, signalling the passage of time and the impending arrival of Combo. The film’s use of slow-motion and highly edited montage is a stark departure from Danny Boyle’s frenetic and hyper-kinetic camerawork in Trainspotting (1996).
Shaun’s acceptance into the surrogate family is a significant moment in the film’s narrative structure. It is a turning point for Shaun, who is fatherless and struggling to fit in with his schoolmates. Shaun’s acceptance into the family highlights the importance of chosen family and the rejection of traditional nuclear family structures. The innocence of the characters is also significant as it juxtaposes their thuggish exterior. The playful and supportive nature of the characters highlights their vulnerability and the importance of emotional support.
The opening sequence of This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007) is a montage that establishes the setting and time period, the Midlands in 1983, while also showcasing the UK’s social issues and pop culture of the time. It opens with a montage made up of documentary newsreel footage accompanied by a soul soundtrack, before transitioning into linear editing that introduces the protagonist, Shaun. The sequence sets the stage for the film’s exploration of the skinhead subculture and its evolution into a racially divided movement.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Nationalist
The opening sequence of This is England introduces the anti-nationalist ideological critical approach that the film adheres to. Meadows uses a montage of UK issues and pop culture to highlight the economic and social issues of the time. The use of soul music, a genre rooted in African American culture, creates a juxtaposition with the violent imagery on screen, highlighting the inherent contradictions in the skinhead movement. The skinhead counter-culture is shown to be heavily influenced by reggae music, which further emphasizes the subculture’s appropriation of black culture.
The opening montage draws particular attention to the Margaret Thatcher government and the rise of far-right politics in England. This included groups such as the National Front, a political party known for its racist rhetoric and violent actions, briefly displayed in the opening montage. The montage also showcases working-class resentment towards Thatcher and her controversial policies, involving the embrace of capitalism and shutting down coal mines. The montage’s display of the Iranian embassy hostage crisis and the British government’s decision to send in the SAS highlights the brutality of the time period.
Meadows’ intentions are to critique the nationalism and xenophobia of the skinhead movement. The juxtaposition of racially-driven violence with African American music challenges the skinheads’ claim to being a British nationalist movement. The effect on the audience is to question the validity of the skinheads’ ideology and to create an emotional distance from the characters.
Narrative Analysis
The opening sequence of This is England exemplifies the film’s linear narrative structure. The use of montage and documentary newsreel footage creates a sense of historical context and setting that is important to understanding the film’s story and characters. The linear editing that follows introduces the protagonist, Shaun, and establishes his life as a consequence of the events depicted in the opening montage. Meadows’ intention is to create a sense of cause-and-effect that underpins the film’s narrative structure. In effect, this creates a sense of inevitability and to emphasise the role of history in shaping the lives of the characters. The use of music and imagery in the opening sequence also foreshadows the conflicts and divisions that will drive the film’s narrative forward.
The closing sequence of Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is a powerful and thought-provoking scene that brings the story and characters to a satisfying conclusion. It follows the character of Renton as he makes the decision to steal the money that he and his friends had intended to split evenly. Renton’s final monologue mirrors the opening “choose life” monologue, but Renton instead rejects hedonism and embraces capitalism.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist
The closing sequence of Trainspotting serves to showcase Renton’s rejection of nihilism. Renton’s decision to steal the money represents the inevitable embrace of a capitalist system, suggesting that he is finally leaving his life of hedonism. Renton ultimately “chooses life” by taking the money for himself, realising that hedonism does not lead to true fulfilment in life. He pledges to begin living a disciplined life, stating that “I’m gonna be just like you.”. This encourages the audience to challenge their assumptions and encourage them to question the status quo.
Narrative Analysis
Renton’s final monologue mirrors the opening monologue, following a similar rhythm and cadence. This creates a sense of closure and resolution, bringing the narrative back full circle. The focus pull away from Renton at the end of the sequence reinforces this sense of closure, as he walks off into the distance and the camera moves away from him. The confessional remarks in the narration suggest that Renton has learned something from his experiences and has rejected nihilism in favor of a more practical and grounded worldview. This has the effect of providing the viewer with a sense of narrative satisfaction, as the story has reached a logical and emotionally satisfying conclusion.
The ‘London Montage’ sequence in Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) comes at a pivotal moment in the story. The montage is a rapid-cutting sequence that signals a change in time and location, signalling Renton’s move from his hometown of Edinburgh to London. This sequence serves as a visual embodiment of the film’s central themes, particularly its criticism of capitalist society. It also marks a significant turning point in the narrative, as Renton has left his old lifestyle behind and is forced to confront the realities of a new world.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist
The ‘London Montage’ sequence is rife with examples of an anti-capitalist ideology. The use of handheld consumer-grade footage and home video footage of tourism highlights the shift from a cinematic to a more personal and everyday perspective, symbolising a break from the mainstream. This change in film stock also adds a rawness to the sequence that adds to its authenticity.
The sequence’s cliched sights of London, including Tower Bridge, ice cream, pigeons, and Piccadilly Circus, all represent the superficiality of the city’s supposed capitalist agenda. The montage serves as a visual embodiment of the “choose life” monologue, demonstrating the emptiness of consumerism and conformity. We can infer that Boyle’s intentions were to criticise capitalist society by showcasing its inherent superficiality and emptiness. The effect on the audience is profound, as it highlights the dangers of blindly following a capitalist agenda.
The sequence’s most interesting and insightful example is that it demonstrates that despite the fact that Renton has left his old lifestyle behind, he is still trapped in a similar vicious circle. Irony is created from the fact that that while Renton has escaped from the drug den, he has entered into a new realm of capitalism and consumerism by becoming an estate agent, that is just as dangerous in his eyes. This highlights the film’s themes, demonstrating that societal problems are not isolated issues but are instead interconnected. Boyle intended to illustrate that these problems are systemic and cannot be solved by a simple change of scenery. In effect, this reinforces the film’s central message of anti-capitalism, challenging them to question their values and their place in society.
Narrative Analysis
The ‘London Montage’ sequence also exemplifies the film’s narrative structure. The use of the non-diegetic compiled score, electronic dance music exemplary the 1990s, is a prime example. This score starkly juxtaposes the retro ‘70s soundtrack of the first half of the film, signalling a change in location and society.
The sequence provides a notable turning point in the film, marking the second act’s beginning. The modern metropolis of London contrasts sharply with the Scottish landscapes seen earlier in the film, representing Renton’s new life and the challenges that come with it. The use of the montage technique conveys a sense of time compression, emphasising the overwhelming speed of change in Renton’s life.
Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) opens with a fast paced frenetic sequence, beginning in medias res. We follow our main protagonist, Mark Renton, running through the streets of Edinburgh as he and Spud are pursued by the authorities. Alongside the pair, the sequence also serves to introduce the viewer to the five main characters and establish the blistering fast pace and spirited, playful tone that pervades the film.
Ideological Analysis: Anti-Capitalist
The opening sequence of Trainspotting exemplifies the anti-capitalist ideology that the film adheres to. The non-diegetic compiled score, Lust for Life by Iggy Pop aptly represents the punk movement of the 1970s and ‘80s, which rejected the oppressive forces of capitalism and consumerism. The lyrics of the song also glorify living life to the fullest, which is accompanied by scenes Sick Boy taking heroin. The rapid editing and frenetic camerawork also reinforces the characters’ embrace of hedonism, linking to an anti-capitalist ideology.
The implementation of Renton’s non-diegetic, poetic narration is another significant aspect of the film that supports an anti-capitalist ideology. The iconic “choose life” monologue provides a counter-culture message, rejecting societal norms and expectations, and instead glorifying the characters’ alternative lifestyles. This opening scene appeals to young defiant individuals, representing the liberal zeitgeist of the 1990s. The mise-en-scène within the drug den is notably heightened and exaggerated, reinforcing the effects of drug use and addiction in a negative light, with the setting’s roots existing in British social realism. The use of colours and lighting further supports the anti-capitalist ideology by depicting the characters’ poverty and bleak existence.
Danny Boyle aptly depicts the harsh realities of life for the working-class in Edinburgh during this opening sequence, criticising the consumerist society that perpetuates drug addiction and poverty. This encourages the audience empathise with the characters’ struggles, causing the spectator to question the capitalist system that creates such inequalities.
Narrative Analysis
The opening sequence of Trainspotting exemplifies the loose, nonlinear narrative structure of the film in several ways. The use of jump cuts during the football training scenes is an example of ellipsis, which compresses time and moves the narrative forward. This contributes to the film’s breakneck pace, immersing the viewer within the hedonistic world that the characters live in. The setting of the Edinburgh streets, football pitch, and drug den are simultaneously familiar yet also provide an enigmatic, grungy aesthetic that appeals to the audience.
The narrative has a flowing quality, with no pauses between scenes, with the non-diegetic narration serving to bridge the sequences together, providing a rhythmic and expressive sequencing. The film employs an ensemble cast, with each character being interesting in their own right. Boyle employs title cards and freeze frames to introduce us to each character, also allowing the viewer a brief release from the tumultuous events being portrayed on screen. The fourth wall is also briefly broken when Renton looks at the camera through the windshield, subtly acknowledging both the driver and the viewer. Through this, narrative drive is created as the viewer is enthralled by the actions of the characters. When Renton is hit by the ball, an action match is implemented that displays him falling to the ground after smoking a cigarette. This action match creates a light-hearted juxtaposition – the exhilarating camerawork is highly appealing to view, further immersing the audience in the frenzied world of Trainspotting. Sick Boy makes reference to multiple James Bond films – a seminal hallmark of British pop culture that appeals to a British audience.
The use of expressive filmmaking techniques, such as the comically jagged wooden boards to metaphorically portray Renton’s isolation, further enhances the narrative drive of the film. The non-diegetic compiled classical score – Habanera by Georges Bizet – comically enhances Renton’s struggles. Boyle’s depiction of the working-class youth in Edinburgh enables the exploration of themes such as addiction, poverty, and the rejection of societal norms. In effect, this encourages the audience to instantly become engrossed in their stories, whilst empathising with the characters, ultimately creating a sense of emotional engagement that propels the narrative forward.
The narrative structure of Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996) is highly unconventional, reflecting the fragmented lives of the characters and the chaos of their drug-fueled existence.
The viewer is immediately thrown into the chaos of the story, with the film beginning in medias res with a cold open. This nonlinear immersion places the viewer halfway through the story, immediately engaging them within the action. The film opens with an iconic song from the 1970s: “Lust for Life” by Iggy Pop, which captures the frenetic atmosphere of the scene. The song also serves as a defining soundtrack for the cast’s youth, immersing the viewer within the exuberant camaraderie of the characters. The opening scene takes place in a mundane, familiar British high street, providing a sense of instant familiarity for the viewer. The narrative is aided by Renton’s iconic omniscient narration, beginning with his “choose life” monologue. Renton speaks with hindsight from a retrospective viewpoint, assisting the viewer in understanding the story.
The film introduces the five main characters: Renton, Sick Boy, Begbie, Spud, and Tommy, using freeze frames and intertitles to draw the viewer’s attention to each of the main cast. Renton is characterised as a charismatic protagonist by being, thin, attractive, and verbally articulate, making him a highly appealing character to follow. Boyle employs rapid cuts between brief vignettes set in different locations, that serve to heighten the energy and pacing of the opening sequence. Motion match is also implemented, an example being when Renton falls on the football field, which is matched with Renton falling in the apartment after taking heroin, naturally connecting the different scenes together in the viewer’s mind.
In the drug den, the baby is framed within a frame in a low-angle shot, alone. This plants an enigma code in the viewer’s mind, serving to foreshadow the baby’s death later in the film. A technique typical of Danny Boyle’s involves keeping the camera in constant motion, contributing to the frantic pace of the narrative. The squalid atmosphere of the den is juxtaposed with frenetic, playful pacing. The non-diegetic compiled score also reinforces the narrative drive, such as when “Lust for Life” continues to play while Sick Boy discusses the pleasure of taking heroin.
The film’s dialogue is notably comedic in nature, despite the fact that it deals with serious subject matter. The screenplay also has a poetic quality, taking a joy in figurative language, linking back to Irvine Welsh’s source material. The images also serve to support the narration, an example being when the sudden cut to Begbie dismissing drugs, which is playfully ironic due to the fact that he is seen to drink and smoke. As the soundtrack dissipates, the diegetic ambience of the dialogue rises. At this point, the narrative is conveyed in a much more traditional manner during the scene when Mark attempts to get “off the skag”, maintaining a constant flow between diegetic and non-diegetic narrative drive.
Boyle implements figurative filmmaking techniques during the scene when Mark locks himself away in his room. Utilising exaggerated mise-en-scène such as when Renton nails the wood to the door in a cross shape, Boyle draws upon familiar cartoon imagery to reinforce Renton’s isolation. Georges Bizet’s famous Habanera aria to create a sense of irony by utilising this piece of non-diegetic classical music in a comical fashion.
Boyle uses the intertitle “the worst toilet in Scotland” to introduce us to a surrealist sequence. This use of an intertitle is notably unorthodox and risky, as it has the potential to disrupt the flow of the film. However, the intertitle suits the light-hearted tone of the film, and allows for a brief interlude from the film’s blistering pace. The toilet itself is theatrically repulsive, expressively displaying Renton’s distraught state of mind – the non-diegetic Habanera piece also re-enters at this point. We then enter a highly surreal sequence in which Renton dives into the toilet and swims into the depths, in search of his suppositories. Brian Eno’s non-diegetic compiled score, Deep Blue Day, bolsters the expressive embellishment of Renton’s psyche.
During the park scene, the audience is positioned to support Renton and Sick Boy, as they are framed in closeup, while everyone else in the park is framed in a wide shot. Jarring editing is employed during Spud’s interview between wide and long shots, creating a sense of disorientation to heighten the chaos of the interview. In the pub, the freeze frame of Begbie concentrates the viewer on the importance of the moment, reinforcing it as a defining moment in Begbie’s characterisation. The narration also assists the narrative during this point, initiating the story of Renton stealing the videotape as Tommy recounts his viewpoint of Begbie’s violent interaction during the pool game. Each sequence naturally flows into the next, with significant use of ellipsis, time manipulation, and temporal editing implemented to achieve this.
The interior of the rave is reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange’s (Stanley Kubrick, 1971) milk bar, being an example of postmodernism that links to the stylistic aesthetic of the film. The use of subtitles burned onto the screen during Tommy and Renton’s conversation highlights the importance of the poetic dialogue that must be heard in order to comprehend the film. The only correctly capitalised word is Iggy Pop – highlighting his importance to the characters. Trainspotting also briefly draws on postmodernism during this scene, with a Taxi Driver poster behind Renton, and an introduction to Diane that is reminiscent of Ilsa’s introduction in Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942). During Diane’s dialogue, there is a juxtaposition between the poetic literary dialogue and the reality of the situation, which adds a layer of artifice on top of reality.
The film features parallel editing during a sequence which details each of the three men’s sexual encounters, with visceral depictions of each. The mountain interlude sedates the pace of the film, during which traditional camerawork is employed. Afterwards, we return to the drug den during which the scene is cut in time with the non-diegetic compiled score. The film’s stylised, choreographed movements and blocking during the scene where the characters beat up an American man is an example of expressive filmmaking.
During the scene when Alison discovers the dead baby, the score lowers in the mix as her diegetic screaming enters the mix, alongside the implementation of a blue colour palette that reinforces the seriousness of the situation. The baby’s death marks a turning point in the tone of the film – it signals the decline of hedonism.
A particularly memorable scene in the film is Renton’s final hit, which leads him to overdose. The scene is filmed with tight closeups that are created as the camera pushes in towards Renton, creating a sense of anticipation and claustrophobia. The viewer is forced to watch the graphic intravenous procedure of a heroin injection, which is uncomfortable yet compelling. This scene sparked controversy with the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) due to the fact that this scene could be argued to convey instructional heroin usage, leading to a debate about the film’s intentions. In response, Boyle argued that the film did not glorify the use of drugs at all, instead deterring audiences from taking such dangerous substances.
Renton sinking into the carpet after overdosing on heroin is an example of expressive filmmaking, embellishing the effects the drugs are taking. Irony is created with the implementation of the non-diegetic compiled score – Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day,” which simultaneously references Sick Boy’s mention of Reed’s solo career earlier in the film. The overdose sequence is also a masterclass in surrealist filmmaking. The otherworldly imagery is heightened and hyperbolised, making the viewer feel like they are experiencing Renton’s trip alongside him. The perspective shift makes Renton’s room feel impossibly long, adding to the disorienting effect of the sequence. This is a masterful example of how Trainspotting uses narrative to convey a character’s distraught mental state.
The London montage serves the purpose of conveying a shift in location. The montage shows stereotypical images of London, such as red buses, black taxis, policemen, tourists, ice creams, and the Piccadilly Circus sign. The upbeat electronic dance music represents the contemporary music of the ‘90s, juxtaposing the retro soundtrack of the earlier portion of the film, thus conveying a shift in lifestyle. As we are introduced to Renton’s new abode, the lyrics of the song “Mile End” by Pulp is reflect the images on screen, creating a sense of unity between the visual and aural elements of the film. This is a powerful way of conveying narrative and emotion simultaneously, propelling the film’s narrative drive through the use of carefully selected non-diegetic composed score.
Ideology
Trainspotting is also notable for its ideological substance, which can be best underpinned by the characters’ anti-capitalist attitudes. Renton’s opening “choose life” monologue serves to establish the film’s anti-capitalist ideology, in which Renton mocks the Scottish anti-drug mantra, establishing an inherent rejection of middle-class aspirations and ideals. Renton’s famous line “I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons.” exemplifies this rejection of standard life choices and the embrace of unorthodox, hedonistic means – a central theme of the film. Renton’s monologue in the mountains about being Scottish also exemplifies a nihilist ideology that rejects any sense of national or cultural identity.
However, as the film progresses, Renton ultimately ends up embracing capitalist ideals. This is a commentary on how even those who reject mainstream ideals and try to live outside the system can ultimately be pulled back in. The ending sequence of the film displays the opening monologue coming full circle, with Renton embracing a capitalist ideology, “choosing life” by taking the money for himself. Ultimately, Renton realises that hedonism does not lead to true fulfilment in life, with Renton pledging to begin living a disciplined life, stating that “I’m gonna be just like you.”
This is England (Shane Meadows, 2007)
Narrative
The opening sequence of the film greatly contrasts that of Trainspotting’s – a highly edited, fast paced chase sequence beginning in medias res. This is England instead opens with a montage that displays news and current affairs of the 1980s. This use of archival footage establishes the time, place, and mood, aptly rooting the story in the time period. The first clip is of Roland Rat, the children’s mascot of Channel 4, being representative of a diverse variety of niches that were growing in notoriety on television. The montage also includes imagery that displays seminal hallmarks of the 1980s, including Rubik’s cubes, computers, CDs, Knight Rider, and space raiders. In addition, the footage highlights societal conflicts including miner strikes, far-right marches, National Front activities and the Falkland Islands war. The houses that are displayed in Shaun’s town are emblematic of the new housing scheme that the British government devised after homes were destroyed in the wake of WW2. The impoverished state of living resulted in replacing the slums with modern housing, leading to a rise in ‘council estates’.
The film largely follows a linear structure, meaning that the plot and story run in parallel. This narrative structure allows Meadows to compress time using ellipses thorough the use of montage, initially used to showcase the mundane aspects of Shaun’s life – bike riding, car cleaning, catapulting, etc. This characterises Shaun as a young boy who seeks a sense of belonging and acceptance. We are then introduced to the skinheads who take Shaun under their wing, acting as a surrogate family for him, most notably Woody serving as a father figure. Shane Meadows subverts the viewers’ preconceptions of skinhead culture by portraying the group as innocent and friendly through the use of montage – activities such as jumping in puddles and swimming develop the camaraderie between Shaun and the skinheads.
However, the narrative undergoes a pivotal turning point during Combo’s introduction – the definitive antagonist who shares parallels with Begbie from Trainspotting. Combo’s racist ideologies are hinted at during his recount of a prison story, during which the highly manipulative non-diegetic piano score by Ludovico Einaudi is implemented to create a sense of discomfort and unease. The camera is also tightly focused in a closeup on Combo’s face, reinforcing this. This scene marks the film’s first head-on confrontation with racism, with Combo’s unflinching use of racial epithets being dually repulsive and threatening. Combo is further characterised as a three-dimensional antagonist with a subtextual backstory being alluded to at points throughout the film. He is a tragic victim of 1980s society, having been given a prison tern at a young age, hoping for reconciliation with Lol after his release.
The film’s climax centres around the confrontation between Combo and Milky, highlighting the racial violence and emotional weight the film has been building towards. The confrontation arises due to Combo being angered by Milky’s alleged privileges over him, with Einaudi’s manipulative score being implemented once again to bolster the emotional weight of the scene. The violence is raw and unflinching, despite not being particularly gory. The camera also does note cut away from the violence, forcing the viewer to confront Combo’s repugnant actions.
The montage of newsreel footage at the end of the film mirrors the opening sequence. The footage displays the soldiers’ return at the end of the Falklands war, highlighting the film’s themes of belonging, violence and societal change.
Ideology
This is England is a film highly concerned with ideological underpinnings, most notably that of an anti-nationalist focus. The opening montage made up of archival footage draws particular attention to the Margaret Thatcher government and the rise of far-right politics in England. This included groups such as the National Front, a political party known for its racist rhetoric and violent actions, briefly displayed in the opening montage. The montage also showcases working-class resentment towards Thatcher and her controversial policies, involving the embrace of capitalism and shutting down coal mines. The montage’s display of the Iranian embassy hostage crisis and the British government’s decision to send in the SAS highlights the brutality of the time period.
The film’s portrayal of skinhead culture also closely links to its anti-capitalist agenda. The skinhead movement initially had its roots in African American culture – particularly through the movement’s shared interest in reggae and soul music. However, the film depicts how the movement was gradually infected by nationalism and racist, stemming from impoverished people who scapegoated foreigners for the poverty-stricken society of the 1980s.
This idea is primary explored through the character of Combo, whose sinister ideals are slowly revealed to the viewer during his recount of a prison story. He later indoctrinates Shaun under his command, radicalising his views to match his own nationalist agenda. His extremist views also create a rift within the skinhead group, driving Woody, Lol, and Milky away. These three represent the inclusive skinhead movement, banding together due to shared cultural interests. The film also distinguishes the fine line between political viewpoints and racially-driven hatred, as many viewers will unwillingly resonate with Combo’s monologue about Thatcherist policies. Combo instead assigns the blame towards foreigners as an easy scapegoat.
During the closing sequence, Shane Meadows subtly questions the value of patriotism and the cost of human lives during the display of the end of the Falklands War. The montage of archival footage showcases the prisoners of war appearing to be unarmed and untrained, raising questions about the true value of warfare victory. The film’s final scene perhaps best underpins a rejection of nationalism when Shaun throws the England flag, Saint George’s Cross, into the sea. This symbolically highlights Shaun’s rejection of a nationalist ideology.
Explore how far the two films you have studied demonstrate the filmmakers’ attempt to control the spectator’s response.
Autumn 2020
Plan:
Introduction
Throughout both Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) and No Country For Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007), the respective filmmakers persistently attempt to control the spectator’s response in a variety of faceted means. Winter’s Bone implements audience positioning in ways that attempt to elicit empathy within the viewer towards the protagonist, Ree, and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Granik claims that it is “a feminist film about an anti-feminist world”, implying that the preferred reading is one in which the viewer is encouraged to support Ree’s actions throughout the film. Conversely, the Coen brothers set out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative in No Country For Old Men, by encoding the film with an ambiguous thematic substance, challenging the spectator’s morals and ideologies. A passive spectator would even perhaps argue that the film is ‘unsatisfying’, as it does not conform to the conventions of a traditional narrative.
Body
Winter’s Bone – incites empathy within the viewer towards the characters, under the context of feminism
Preferred reading – empathising with Ree as an empowered woman and her struggles against patriarchal oppression
Negotiated reading – Ree’s actions are still immoral, despite being in a feminist world
Active spectatorship and negotiated reading during ‘squirrel dream’ sequence. Audience’s own perception will interpret the dream to have a particular meaning – perhaps the squirrel is representative of Ree’s oppression
Audience is positioned to view Teardrop as a symbol of toxic masculinity
No Country For Old Men – subverting audience’s preconceptions
No traditional ‘face off’, the Sheriff is mostly uninvolved with the events of the film
Preferred reading – siding with the Sheriff, sympathy with his disillusionment towards the senseless violence that permeates the state
Fade to black at the end leaves the audience dwelling upon the sheriff’s dreams – symbolism of following his father into the grave
Inevitable frustration towards the ‘unsatisfying’ conclusion – Llewelyn’s off-screen death
Active spectatorship – pensive opening sequence, little to no dialogue. Introspective sheriff monologue – doesn’t drive the plot forward. Exemplifies the rejection of the hypodermic needle theory.
The preconception of unconditionally supporting the protagonist’s actions is subverted when Llewelyn doesn’t give the man any water and instead takes the briefcase
The motivations behind Anton’s ambiguous murders are to be inferred by the audience through active spectatorship – checking boots for blood after inferably killing Carla Jean, nihilistic coin flips
Conclusion
In conclusion, Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men use starkly contrasting methods in order to control the viewer’s response. Winter’s Bone predominately implements audience positioning in an attempt to incite empathy towards Ree and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Through the use of cinematography, mise-en-scène, sound, and dialogue, Granik encourages the spectator to support Ree’s actions. Conversely, No Country For Old Men subverts the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions through the use of unorthodox narrative techniques alongside an inherently ambiguous thematic tapestry. The Coen brothers encourage active spectatorship to be exercised throughout, allowing for layered meanings of the film to be deciphered. Both films aptly demonstrate the power filmmakers possess towards shaping how a spectator responds to a film.
Essay – Version 1
Throughout both Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) and No Country For Old Men (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2007), the respective filmmakers persistently attempt to control the spectator’s response in a variety of faceted means. Winter’s Bone implements audience positioning in ways that attempt to elicit empathy within the viewer towards the protagonist, Ree, and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Granik claims that the film is “a feminist film about an anti-feminist world”, implying that the preferred reading is one in which the viewer is encouraged to support Ree’s actions throughout the film. Conversely, the Coen brothers set out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative in No Country For Old Men, by encoding the film with an ambiguous thematic substance, challenging the spectator’s morals and ideologies. A passive spectator would even perhaps argue that the film is ‘unsatisfying’, as it does not conform to the conventions of a traditional narrative.
During the opening sequence of Winter’s Bone, the viewer is immediately encouraged to emphasise with Ree‘s struggles in an impoverished and oppressive patriarchy. The film opens with a non-diegetic lullaby, immediately connoting a sense of intimate maternity. Cutting to a wide shot, the children are framed behind the bars of a bed-frame — implying to the viewer that they are trapped within their environment. This opening sequence also conveys the cyclical nature of nurturing – Ree’s sister, Ashlee takes care of her toy kitten, implying the idea that she herself has been nurtured by Ree. Mise-en-scène is also implemented within the domestic landscape, being littered with waste and abandoned items. This, alongside the characters clothing being ragged and humble, emphasises the poverty-stricken way of life Ree and her family leads, positioning the audience as to empathise with them.
Ree’s bravery and defiance within an oppressive patriarchy is also displayed to the spectator during the ‘cattle market’ sequence, during which Ree calls for Thump Milton at the top of her lungs. Milton is unable to comprehend her, further reinforcing the invisible yet prevalent divide between the male and female worlds. Alongside this, the non-diegetic composed score becomes discordant, creating a sense of urgency. It is layered in tandem with the cries of the cattle, creating a sensory overload which reflects Ree’s distraught state of mind. This is another example of audience positioning used in an attempt to control the spectator’s response – eliciting empathy towards Ree in this case.
An example of taking a negotiated reading by using active spectatorship occurs during the ‘squirrel dream’ sequence. During this sequence, Granik utilises unorthodox techniques such as black and white grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera. Granik also implements a 4:3 aspect ratio, further contributing to the surreal nature of the sequence. A negotiated reading would argue that the squirrel in the sequence is perhaps a metaphor for Ree – as both are victims of a disrupted naturalistic environment. The danger faced by the squirrel is displayed through its shuddering fear, captured through the camera’s rapid and disorienting movements. A jarring diegetic chainsaw sound promptly enters the mix, perhaps being representative of the oppressive patriarchy that endangers Ree’s peaceful existence. A worms-eye-view shot of the trees is also used, displaying the squirrel, and by extension, Ree, as dwarfed, emphasizing her vulnerability within an oppressive patriarchal society. This reading is not explicitly conveyed by the film, but is instead only able to be inferred through active spectatorship. Each viewer will interpret this sequence in a slightly different way, exemplifying how this sequence is an example of Debra Granik attempting to control the spectator’s response.
Throughout the film, Ree’s uncle Teardrop is characterised in ways that illustrate him as a symbol of toxic masculinity – a notion that is able to be unravelled through active spectatorship. In the ‘squirrel gutting’ sequence, a focus pull is implemented to draw the spectator’s attention towards Teardrop as he approaches Ree. During their conversation, Teardrop offers some drugs to Ree, asking if she “has the taste for it yet”. Ree adamantly refuses, being indicative of her mental fortitude and purity that she possess over Teardrop, positioning the audience in a way that encourages the spectator to condemn Teardrop. In addition, during the closing sequence, Teardrop vows to seek revenge on the man that killed Ree’s father, reinforcing the cyclical nature of violence and highlighting the idea that Teardrop’s misguided sense of loyalty is a negative force, and that it is ultimately through the actions of women that the problems in the film are resolved. This further encourages the viewer to support Ree’s actions, framing Teardrop as a force of evil.
In contrast to Winter’s Bone’s attempts to control the spectator through the use of audience positioning which encourages the viewer to empathise with Ree, No Country For Old Men controls the viewer’s response by instead setting out to actively subvert the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions, weaving an ambiguous thematic substance that pervades the film. Through this, active spectatorship is required to decipher a particular meaning from the Coen brothers’ enigmatic masterpiece.
The opening scene of the film immediately subverts the spectator’s expectations by beginning with a non-diegetic monologue delivered by Sheriff Ed Tom Bell. The monologue does not serve to provide exposition, but is instead an introspective monologue in which the sheriff reminisces upon the senselessly violent crimes that he has dealt with throughout his career. The viewer is left to question the meaning of this monologue, encouraged to become an active spectator by unravelling the themes of nihilism and determinism that the monologue touches upon. The preferred reading of the film is arguably for the viewer to side with the sheriff, sympathising with his disillusionment towards the nihilism that permeates Texas. This opening scene exemplifies the rejection of the hypodermic needle model which suggested that audiences were to blindly accept any messages presented within media.
Instead of being rewarded with a traditional showdown between the three main characters, the spectator’s expectations are instead subverted by the final scene of the film, with it being a pensive recount of the sheriff’s dreams. The Coens’ decision to end the film with an abrupt cut to black controls the viewer’s response in an interesting way – the spectator is forced to dwell upon the meanings of the sheriff’s dream as the credits roll. While a passive spectator would argue that this final scene is an unsatisfying conclusion to the film, an active spectator would perhaps argue that Ed Tom’s dream is symbolic of the sheriff following his father towards his impending demise.
No Country For Old Men also subverts the preconception of unconditionally supporting the protagonist’s actions during the first scene involving the character of Llewelyn Moss. During the scene, the viewer bears witness to Llewelyn’s selfish actions. He chooses to not give water to a dying man, instead taking the briefcase containing $2 million. Viewers are encouraged to employ active spectatorship – Llewelyn’s actions are arguably morally reprehensible and selfish, but this idea is not explicitly conveyed to the audience. Individual spectators are instead encouraged to decide whether or not Llewelyn’s actions are morally just.
The nature of Llewelyn’s death, being abrupt and offscreen, also serves as a means of controlling the spectator by subverting the their expectations. After a seemingly mundane and innocuous conversation between Llewelyn and a woman sitting in a pool takes place, the scene abruptly fades to black, before we cut to Sheriff Ed Tom Bell’s point of view. The Coens’ employ a POV shot of the sheriff running towards the crime during which camera shake is employed to heighten the tension. Ed Tom, however, is too late – the inevitable causality of death has already taken effect. The fact that Llewelyn is killed in such an unheroic manner by a group of characters we have never been introduced reinforces the futility of humanity, providing acute shock value for the viewer in which their response is controlled by the filmmakers.
Throughout the film, ruthless hitman Anton Chigurh commits a series of senseless, brutal murders in pursuit of the money-filled briefcase. However, Anton’s motivations that fuel his actions are highly ambiguous, choosing his victims seemingly at random, rather than just those who obstruct his aims. The meanings behind Anton’s actions are to be extracted by the viewer – by employing active spectatorship, the Coens encourage the viewer to uncover the truth behind Anton’s murders. During the ‘call it, friend-o’ sequence, Anton leaves a perfectly innocent man’s fate up to a 50/50 coin flip, perhaps reinforcing his nihilistic belief that human life is meaningless and arbitrary. After the owner argues that he didn’t put anything up to win on the coin flip, Anton informs the man that “you’ve been putting it up your whole life, you just didn’t know it”, suggesting that the end of the man’s meaningless existence has already been decided. Alongside this, during the closing sequence, it is implied that Anton does indeed kill Carla Jean. Using active spectatorship, the viewer is able insinuate that Carla is dead after Anton checks his shoes for blood – an action that he has performed many times over the course of the film. An implied reading of the scene argues that due to the fact that Carla did not let the coin decide her fate, Anton decides to end her life purely due to his belief in the insignificance of human life.
In conclusion, Winter’s Bone and No Country For Old Men use starkly contrasting methods in order to control the viewer’s response. Winter’s Bone predominately implements audience positioning in an attempt to incite empathy towards Ree and her struggles within an oppressive patriarchal society. Through the use of cinematography, mise-en-scène, sound, and dialogue, Granik encourages the spectator to support Ree’s actions to support her impoverished family. Conversely, No Country For Old Men subverts the spectator’s preconceptions of narrative conventions through the use of unorthodox narrative techniques alongside an inherently ambiguous thematic tapestry. The Coen brothers encourage active spectatorship to be exercised throughout, allowing for layered meanings of the film to be deciphered. Both films aptly demonstrate the power filmmakers possess towards shaping how a spectator responds to a film.
The “squirrel dream” sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) is a surreal and symbolic representation of the film’s central character, Ree. The sequence is a stark departure from the rest of the film, utilising unorthodox techniques such as black and white, grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera, This serves to create a dreamscape-like atmosphere, acting as an extended metaphor for Ree, alongside the patriarchal oppression she faces over the course of the film.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
As previously mentioned, the sequence is a striking departure from the aesthetic of the rest of the film. Granik utilises unorthodox techniques such as black and white, grainy footage filmed with a cheap handheld camera. The sequence is also shot with a vignette, 4:3 aspect ratio, furthering contributing to the surreal nature of the sequence.
The squirrel, representing the oppressed women, is centrally framed in the dreamscape black and white 4:3 vignette
The non-diegetic composed score, which rises in the mix, builds a pensive and ominous atmosphere, further emphasising the surreal and dreamlike quality of the sequence. The squirrel in the sequence is a metaphor for Ree, who is a victim of a disrupted naturalistic environment. The squirrel’s peaceful existence is displayed through the squirrel’s shuddering fear. The camera movements are rapid and disorienting, overwhelming the viewer and adding to the otherworldly nature of the sequence. A worms-eye-view shot of the trees is used, displaying the squirrel, and by extension, Ree, as dwarfed, emphasizing her vulnerability.
The jarring diegetic sound of a chainsaw, representing the squirrel’s impending doom, is symbolic of the masculine-oriented world that Ree is a part of, creating a sense of foreboding. The Dutch angle shot of vultures tearing at carrion symbolises Ree’s poverty-stricken way of life, with the vultures themselves representing the men in her life who cause destruction and harm. The vultures merely abandon the destruction they have caused, representing the fact that Ree must deal with the aftermath of Jessop’s disappearance. This further bolsters the feminist ideology of the film. The final shot of billowing smoke represents ultimate destruction, both physically and emotionally, underscoring the themes of poverty and struggle that pervade the film.
In conclusion, the “squirrel dream” sequence is a surreal yet powerful representation of the film’s protagonist, Ree and the struggles she must face head-on The use of visual and audio techniques creates an otherworldly, dreamlike atmosphere, enhancing the impact of the sequence on the viewer. The feminist ideology of the film is rooted in the representation of Ree as a victim of a masculine-oriented world, and the themes of poverty and struggle that pervade the film.
The “cattle market” sequence in Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) serves as a poignant representation of the film’s feminist ideology. We witness a cattle auction, which highlights the patriarchal and oppressive nature of the Ozarkian society. The sequence demonstrates the stark contrast between Ree’s world and the world of the oppressive men in power, through visual and auditory elements.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The scene takes place in an entirely male-dominated space, where the men possess the power of life and death over the cattle they are auctioning. The diegetic sound of the unintelligible language of the auction dominates the sound mix, serving to reinforce the idea that the masculine world is incomprehensible, and emphasise the power dynamic between Ree and the men. The cow at the center of the scene appears frightened, its life dependent on the mercy of the men, further reinforcing the unequal power dynamic in the room.
The males are homogeneous, symbolised as an oppressive force against Ree. The bars act to separate Ree from the men, displaying the barrier between the two worlds
Ree is separated from the men by the bars that line the auction space, and her position in the scene is further emphasised by her dwarfed appearance among the intimidating men. The interior of the auction house is sickeningly yellow, connoting the monotonous and oppressive lives led by the men. The cattle also metaphorically mirror Ree’s current state of affairs – the cattle are being sold at auction, symbolic of the notion of Ree’s house potentially being sold for Jessop’s bail bond.
We then cut to a new location in which the steely blue colour palette of the corporate herding facility further emphasises the oppressive nature of the situation, furthered by the cattle moving in the same direction as Ree. When Ree calls for Thump Milton at the top of her lungs, he is unable to comprehend her, further reinforcing the invisible yet prevalent divide between the male and female worlds. At this point, the non-diegetic composed score is discordant, creating a sense of urgency. It is layered in tandem with the cries of the cattle, creating a sensory overload which reflects Ree’s distraught state of mind. The sight of one calf being separated from the others, helpless and screaming, serves as a metaphorical representation of Ree, further conveying the idea that Ree is a victim of the patriarchal society in which she lives.
In conclusion, the cattle market sequence is a powerful demonstration of the film’s feminist ideology, as it serves to highlight the oppressive and patriarchal nature of the Ozark society. Through visual and auditory elements, Debra Granik reinforces the idea that Ree is excluded from the masculine-dominated world, and that she is a victim of the oppressive power dynamic at play.
The opening sequence of Winter’s Bone (Debra Granik, 2010) establishes the eminently feminist viewpoint within an ‘anti-feminist’ world that is presented over the course of the film. We are introduced to Ree Dolly, a poverty-stricken young woman who takes care of her family made up of her two siblings and catatonic mother in the mountainous Ozark region of Missouri. The underlying ‘McGuffin’ that drives the film’s narrative is also established in the sequence, being the unknown whereabouts of Ree’s father, Jessop. The sequence also establishes the precedent of not conforming to the ‘male gaze’ that typically pervades throughout Hollywood. Ree is not sexualised at any point, and the main narrative occurrences are from the voices and actions of women. The men in the film, such as Teardrop and the sheriff, merely act as a hindrance to Ree’s journey.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The film opens with a non-diegetic lullaby, immediately connoting a sense of intimate maternity. Cutting to a wide shot, the children are framed behind the bars of a bed-frame — symbolising the notion that they are trapped within their environment. This opening sequence also conveys the cyclical nature of nurturing – Ashlee takes care of her toy kitten, implying the idea that she herself has been nurtured by Ree. Throughout the sequence, mise-en-scène is implemented within the domestic landscape, being littered with waste and abandoned items. This, alongside the characters clothing being ragged and humble, emphasises the poverty-stricken way of life Ree and her family leads.
The viewer witnesses Ree competently attending to an array of domestic tasks throughout the opening sequence, such as chopping wood and cooking. This indicates that Ree does not conform to typical gender roles typically presented throughout the Hollywood landscape, accentuated by her baggy non-gendered clothing. Ree is not sexualised in any way throughout the film, standing her ground against the male characters that attempt to hinder her goals. Similarly, Ashlee and Sonny have notably androgynous appearances, implying that gender does not factor into how these children are to be nurtured by Ree.
All of the opening scenes are presented to the audience through the use of a handheld camera, as to illustrate an authentic depiction of reality. The film is also shot entirely on location, as to convey an accurate representation of life in the Ozarks. Interestingly, the cast of the film swapped clothes with the local residents of the Ozarks, further preserving the authenticity of the location. Furthering this, the film does not employ any deliberate blocking, which can be seen through Ree’s face being partially obscured by the clothes hanging on the line. This reinforces Debra Granik priority of emphasising naturalism over choreography.
Ree is forced to take on a maternal role, in which her siblings look up to her as a mother figure. Her appearance starkly contrasts that of Ilsa in Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942), as the film portrays women in a much more empowering light. The house itself has no beds – the children are forced to sleep on chairs. Ree also cooks breakfast using lard, a cheaper alternative to oil, reinforcing the poverty-stricken way of life the family leads. An interesting role reversal also occurs when Ree combs her mother’s hair, a typical action performed by a mother to her daughter. This emphasises the multi-faceted familial duties that Ree is burdened with attending to.
The children sleep on sofas and chairs instead of beds, demonstrating their impoverished way of life
During the scene when Ree drops off her siblings at school, a closeup of Ree peering into the classroom is displayed. She glances longingly behind the closed door, illustrating Ree’s wistfulness towards rekindling her lost innocence. Afterwards, Ree meets Sonya to discuss her horse, she is framed in a child-like manner than starkly juxtaposes Sonya’s grizzled appearance – she has been hardened by the strenuous way of life in the Ozarks. The film could also be argued as a feminist film at this point, due to the Bechdel test being passed at this early point in the film: Ree and Sonya are two named women having a conversation about horses, unrelated to men.
The sequence concludes with the sudden arrival of the sheriff, who informs Ree about Jessop’s upcoming court appearance and the risk of her house being sold in order to cover his bail bond. During this scene, an ominous non-diegetic composed score underlies the tense gravitas of the situation. Ree stands her ground confidently, addressing the sheriff with confident remarks such as “I’ll find him”. We view the situation from Ree’s empowered perspective, highlighting the difficulty she faces in a patriarchal society from a viewpoint of oppression.
Compare how far your chosen films reflect their different production contexts.
Sample Assessment Materials
Plan:
Introduction
Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) are two films that are shining exemplars of two starkly contrasting production contexts within Hollywood. Casablanca was a film produced by Warner Brothers under the Hollywood Studio System during the Golden Age – one which epitomises the rigid and traditional Classical Hollywood style of the era. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde sought to defy the preconceptions of the Golden Age after the dissolution of the studio system, taking influence from the French New Wave to employ modern technology and unorthodox filmmaking techniques. The film foregrounds a gritty portrayal of two real life criminals – one which does not shy away from graphic violence and sexual undertones – birthing the New Hollywood era of filmmaking.
Body
Institutional context: Compare how Casablanca was produced by Warner Bros under the studio system (vertical integration, unbreakable contracts, star system, Hays code etc.). Whereas Bonnie and Clyde was produced after the Paramount Case, allowing for a greater deal of creative freedom within Warner Bros.
Technological context: Compare the styles of filmmaking (Classical Hollywood style vs French New Wave-influenced style). Mention specific examples rooted in key sequences, alongside the technology available to the studios. Filmed in the studio vs on-location.
Historical context: Compare how Casablanca was filmed and set during the First World War (Vichy water implications), but Bonnie and Clyde is set in a Great Depression 1930s (FDR posters plastered on the wall) , but released during the 1960s.
Comparing how the film stars are presented: Casablanca (Ilsa is glamorous and pristine, through key and fill lighting, Rick’s rugged appearance accentuated by lighting).
Conclusion
Ultimately, both films are apt representations of the production contexts that both films were produced under respectively. Casablanca epitomises the Classical Hollywood style typical of the films of the Golden Age, whereas Bonnie and Clyde paved the way for the New Hollywood era – embracing graphic violence and sexual content that defied the typicalities of the more traditional, conservative films of the previous age.
Essay – Version 1
Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) and Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) are two films that are shining exemplars of two starkly contrasting production contexts within Hollywood. Casablanca was a film produced by Warner Brothers under the Hollywood Studio System that operated under the practice of vertical integration during the Golden Age. The film epitomises the rigid and traditional Classical Hollywood style of the era. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde sought to defy the preconceptions of the Golden Age after the dissolution of the studio system. By taking influence from the French New Wave, employing modern technology and unorthodox filmmaking techniques, this appealed to the newly diverse cinematic landscape enjoyed by audiences throughout this period. The film foregrounds a gritty portrayal of two real life criminals – one which does not shy away from graphic violence and sexual undertones – birthing the New Hollywood era of filmmaking.
Casablanca’s conception originated with Warner Bros. buying the rights to a unproduced stage play, Everybody Comes to Rick’s, for $20,000. Afterwards, the studio quickly began work on building bespoke sets for the film, creating the illusion of exoticism by foregrounding the lavish production values that the studio poured into the construction. A clear example of this can be seen in the opening sequence of the film in which an expansively lavish set of Casablanca populated with countless extras takes place. This is revealed to the viewer through camerawork typical of the Classical Hollywood style: a crane shot that tilts down to reveal the opulent set. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde strove to purport the highest level of authenticity and thus, chose to film the vast majority of the film on location with the implementation of natural lighting. The opening sequence of the film introduces us to Clyde through a wide shot filmed through a mosquito net, creating an atmosphere that feels much more tangible than Casablanca’s constructed reality. Akin to the French New Wave, the use of natural lighting serves to add an extra layer of authenticity to the film.
Casablanca is a product of the Golden Age of Hollywood that exemplifies the concept of film star ‘stables’ that were owned by the studios. Due to ‘unbreakable contracts’ that exclusively contracted actors to specific studios, Warner Bros. endeavoured to make apt use of their stars. With this in mind, the studio chose to cast Humphrey Bogart as Rick, a star who was often typecast as the ‘rugged individual’ archetype in films such as The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941). Through this, Rick’s character was customised to suit Bogart’s acting capabilities, introducing us to him in the ‘Leaving Rick’s’ sequence by filming Bogart from a centrally framed low-angle shot whilst being cast in shadow to accentuate his masculinity. In addition to this, during the Paris flashback sequence, Rick dons a trench coat and hat during the train station scene. This subtly pays homage to Humphrey Bogart’s classic detective roles he was cast as during the Film Noir scene, demonstrating that Warner Bros. attempted to fully capitalise on the ‘stable’ of stars they possessed. The studio also chose Ingrid Bergman to play Ilsa, an internationally renowned actress. Throughout the film, Bergman was highly glamourised through the use of lavish costume design, hair, makeup, alongside the use of key lighting and soft focus to accentuate her beauty. This is highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style that Warner Bros. was renowned for at the time.
In contrast, the titular couple in Bonnie and Clyde are presented in a vastly different light. Instead of conforming to the ‘rugged individual’ protagonist archetype, Clyde is presented in a much more nuanced manner due to his ambiguous sexuality that Warren Beatty (producer and star) campaigned for. Towards the end of the opening sequence of the film, a closeup is displayed of Clyde drinking a bottle of Coke, which both connotes provocatively phallic imagery and is indicative of the Prohibition Era that was in effect during the 1930s. This is furthered later in the film when Clyde appears to be uninterested or perhaps unable to engage in sexual activity with Bonnie. Bonnie is presented in a much more seductive manner in contrast to Ilsa, which is immediately demonstrated to the audience through the first shot of the film – an extreme closeup of her luscious red lips, a symbol of sex. This, alongside the fact that Bonnie appears naked for the first scene of the film, presents her feminine beauty in a more natural and intimate manner than Ilsa’s artificially maintained beauty.
Casablanca’s production was spearheaded by Jack L. Warner – the president of Warner Brothers. A primary agenda of Warner was to feature the ongoing war prominently in the studio’s films, in an attempt to subtly signal America to join the war efforts. This is particularly evident in the final scene of the film, in which Captain Renault chooses to bin the Vichy-branded water bottle, displayed to the viewer through a closeup. This is symbolic of the studio’s negative views towards fascism, perhaps being indicative of the side the country eventually took when America joined the war. Historical context is also important to consider when evaluating the production contexts of Bonnie and Clyde. Although the film was released in 1967, it is set during the 1930s – a time in which the effects of the Great Depression coursed through all of America, particularly the poorer Southern states in which the film takes place. For example, the streets that the couple walk down in the opening sequence are barren, reflective of the Great Depression. The mise-en-scène is also meticulously selected to reflect the time period, such as the FDR presidential campaign posters that are plastered to the walls, serving to immerse the audience in the 1930s. Through this, viewers who had lived through this time period themselves were encouraged to empathise with Bonnie and Clyde’s struggles during this period of poverty and bleakness.
Casablanca was shot entirely in black and white, a typical feature of Warner Brothers’ ‘house style’ at the time. By 1942, colour had been implemented into a number films for around a decade, with studios such as MGM immediately choosing to embrace colour. MGM would go on to produce The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) a landmark of the cutting-edge Technicolor technology, but colour was considered by many other studios to merely be a ‘gimmick’. During the time of Casablanca’s release, black and white was arguably at its peak, and Warner Bros. believed that choosing to film in black and white – despite the introduction of colour technology – demonstrated artistic nuance, as the iconic ‘noir aesthetic’ had now been refined for over 50 years. Colour was not as ‘sterile’ as black and white was during this time, only being able to display highly saturated colours. Conversely, Bonnie and Clyde was shot in colour, aptly portraying a much grittier and authentic atmosphere in contrast to Casablanca romanticised ‘noir’ aesthetic. The film’s cinematographer, Burnett Guffey, once stated that Arthur Penn wanted the film to be “as real and untheatrical as possible” and the decision to embrace modern Technicolor technology supports this.
During the production of Casablanca, the studio was significantly limited by the Hays Code – a series of regulations that forbade graphic violence and sexual content to be displayed within the film. This is particularly evident in the final scene of the film in which Rick shoots Major Strasser, after which no blood is shown, indicative of the Hays Code restrictions. This conservative presentation of violence soon became a typical convention of the Classical Hollywood style, to which audiences became accustomed during the Golden Age. This greatly contrasts with how violence is presented throughout Bonnie and Clyde. After the dissolution of the studio system that occurred after the result of the Paramount Case, the Hays Code gradually became more lax over time, resulting in Bonnie and Clyde’s presentation of graphic violence as a means to shock audiences who had become accustomed to the conservative presentation of violence typical of Classical Hollywood. At the end of the ‘Botched Heist’ sequence, Clyde shoots a man in the mouth through a car window. This is presented to the viewer through rapid editing, cutting quickly between closeups of the man clinging to the car and reactionary shots of Clyde. The film does not shy away from its presentation of blood, with the film implementing the use of squibs filled with stage blood, which exploded upon impact. These were employed in this scene, alongside many others throughout the film, including the infamous massacre of the titular couple at the end of the film. This graphic display of violence serves to ground the film in reality and forces the audience to confront Bonnie and Clyde’s heinous actions.
Ultimately, both films are apt representations of the production contexts that both films were produced under respectively. Casablanca epitomises the Classical Hollywood style typical of the films of the Golden Age, whereas Bonnie and Clyde paved the way for the New Hollywood era – embracing graphic violence and sexual content that defied the typicalities of the more traditional, conservative films of the previous age.
The ending sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) displays the tragic demise of the titular couple. After sharing one final innocent moment of happiness together, C.W.’s father fools the couple into stepping outside their car, after agreeing to turn in the couple to the police in exchange for C.W.’s freedom. The couple are brutally gunned down by lawmen, led by Frank Hamer – the man that the gang taunted with earlier in the film. This abrupt final scene is both powerful and poignant – serving as a fittingly inevitable end to the couple’s tumultuous journey portrayed over the course of the film.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The sequence opens with a wide shot of Bonnie and Clyde framed centrally as they walk out of a shop, donning cream-coloured clothing that serves to emphasise their purity. The couple act playfully, exuding a sense of child-like innocence as Clyde puts on a pair of broken glasses. This final moment of playful happiness is captured through the use of a crane shot, a more traditional filmmaking technique that is closely associated with the Classical Hollywood style.
As the couple enter the car, unbeknownst to the fact that it will be their final journey, no Bluegrass score accompanies this action, creating a much more sombre mood than what is usually associated with the gang’s car journeys. This contrast between the couple’s playful behaviour and the lack of non-diegetic sound creates a foreboding sense of unease. Clyde’s clumsiness and child-like behaviour also serve to juxtapose the couple’s heinous actions throughout the film.
During the journey, the camera work employed is of particular interest. It departs from the utilisation of long lenses throughout the film, a technique associated with the French New Wave that allowed for ease of filming. Instead, the cameras are placed in close proximity to Bonnie and Clyde, bringing the viewer closer to their final intimate moments together. This is particularly evident in a tight two-shot of the couple in the car, which only becomes tighter as the sequence progresses. Bonnie and Clyde also share a pear during the car journey, perhaps serving as a symbol of comfort and familiarity for the couple. We then cut to a sequence edited in parallel between shots filmed from the perspective of the car’s windscreen and shots of Malcolm not-so-subtly beckoning the couple to pull over on the side of rural road he is blocking, encouraging them to check on an apparently flat tyre. This action is displayed through the implementation of a Dutch angle shot, serving to create an off-kilter atmosphere.
We then cut to a rapid frenzy of editing that alternates between reactionary closeups of Bonnie and Clyde. This indicates that the couple just begin to realise what is happening to them in their last living moments, a second before it is too late. The final moment shared between the couple is showcased through an eye-line match, creating one final moment of romance. As the lawmen open fire, deafening gunshots explode into the sound mix which immediately alerts the viewer and heightens the dramatic value of the scene. The excessive display of graphic violence that ensues defies the prior conventions of Classical Hollywood.
Slow motion is also employed within this scene for the first time in the film, serving to emphasise the brutality of the scene. Through this, the shot of Clyde’s corpse rolling to the side is prolonged, inciting empathy towards the character within the viewer. Notably, neither Bonnie nor Clyde are shot in the face – preserving their purity and glamour. The final shot of the massacre is a wide shot that lingers on the two lifeless corpses, leaving the viewer to ponder the journey undertaken by Bonnie and Clyde over the course of the film.
The final wide shot displaying the corpses of Bonnie and Clyde
During the brief aftermath of the shooting, the camera glides behind the shattered car window. A bullet hole is displayed out of focus, subtly reinforcing the events of the shooting. Instead, Penn chooses to frame the lawmen in behind the car in focus, distancing the camera from their stoic demeanours. The ringleader, Frank Hamer, is dressed in all black, portraying him as particularly villainous. The abruptness of this ending is perhaps reminiscent of the French New Wave, a movement that strove to present an authentic depiction of reality. There is no superfluous ‘epilogue’ sequence, the film merely ends with this inspection of the couple’s lifeless corpses.
The “meeting family” sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) begins after Bonnie runs away from the gang into a field, after which Clyde desperately attempts to locate her as he repeatedly calls her name. After he finds Bonnie, she informs Clyde that she wishes to see her mother again. We then cut to a barren wheat field in which the members of the gang, now made up of: Bonnie, Clyde, Buck, Blanche, and C.W. convene with Bonnie’s family, in order to partake in a family gathering. This desolate location is highly symbolic, perhaps foreshadowing Bonnie and Clyde’s inevitable demise. To accentuate this, this sequence is filmed in a manner reminiscent of a dream sequence – providing the setting with an otherworldly quality. The sequence ends with Clyde’s boyish charm failing to convince Bonnie’s mother that everything is okay, as she tells him that “you best keep running, Clyde Barrow”.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The opening scene in which the gang attempt to locate Bonnie is a prime exemplar of the how the film takes dual influence from the familiar Classical Hollywood style alongside newer, more experimental influences such as the French New Wave. As for the Classical Hollywood style, the camera is placed on a rig to seamlessly track the car’s movements as the camera moves backwards. The use of a rig creates a highly controlled environment, typical of films such as Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942). The use of a crane shot is also employed to display Clyde chasing Bonnie through the field, a technique also frequently implemented throughout the films of the Golden Age. Techniques that are inspired by the French New Wave includes the use of long lenses to film. This, alongside improvised handheld camera movements and blocking when Clyde chases Bonnie through the wheat field, creates a naturalistic atmosphere. The scene is also shot on location, meaning that the visuals are not particularly clear. However, this only serves to add an extra layer of realism to the scene.
The weather also appears to break continuity during certain shots – the wheat field appears to be in shadow until it cuts to a closer angle, displaying a much sunnier scene. A piece of wheat also flaps in front of the camera, demonstrating the uncontrollable nature of filming on location. The fact that the couple lie in a dead wheat field is perhaps an example of metaphorical foreshadowing – Bonnie and Clyde’s demise is inevitable.
After Clyde agrees to the family gathering, we then cross-dissolve to a new location, the abandoned industrial wasteland. The sequence opens on a wide shot of this wasteland, displaying the moribund state it exists after the Great Depression. During the scenes that take place in this setting, a grainy filter is applied to the camera that was achieved by filming through a car windscreen. This creates a distant, otherworldly atmosphere to the scene, implying that these brief moments of happiness only prolong the couple’s inexorable downfall. The colouring also appears to be extremely washed out, further emphasising the barren atmosphere that the family are forced to seclude themselves within.
The abandoned, moribund wasteland
The closeup of Bonnie’s mother is also shot on a long lens, creating an entirely shallow depth of field behind her. This serves to separate her face from the background, drawing the viewer’s attention towards her withered appearance. Each character is also dressed in solemn, formal clothing – reminiscent of funeral attire, contributing the overall ‘death metaphor’ present throughout the sequence. The sound throughout the sequence also appears to be much more distant than normal, merely consisting of muffled diegetic ambience and dialogue. The use of frame rate drops are also employed, jarring the viewer and creating a disjointed atmosphere.
As Bonnie and Clyde innocently play with Bonnie’s nephew in the pit, Buck and Blanche awkwardly stand to the side in a subdued manner. From this, the viewer is able to surmise that Buck and Blanche have realised the inevitably of Bonnie and Clyde’s demise and are empathising with the couple’s blissful naïveté. Clyde’s charismatic charm doesn’t appear to convince Bonnie’s mother of his suitability as a partner for her daughter. During this, Bonnie is portrayed in a much less playful and flirtatious light – she takes on a solemn demeanour, displaying concern for her future with Clyde. As Bonnie’s mother delivers her truthful opinion of Clyde to his face, she is once again isolated in a closeup – emphasising that no one possesses any hope for their future.
As the characters slowly begin to leave the frame, the final conversations revert back to utilising a typical shot/reverse shot sequence. This reinforces the idea that the jovial family gathering has now concluded, and the gritty reality of the poverty-struck South has once again become apparent. The sequence ends with a wide shot of the abandoned wasteland, leaving the Barrow Gang isolated in the frame – informing us that the family does not intend to aid their efforts, and the gang is truly alone.
The “botched heist” sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) proves that not everything the gang attempts will go to plan, serving to highlight the gritty realism presented over the course of the film. The scene displays the titular couple attempting to rob a town bank, which seems to be going to plan until their attempted escape. The gang’s newly appointed getaway driver, C.W. Moss, inadvertently hinders the heist by parking the car away from the bank. Moss then struggles to pull away, accidentally hitting two cars. As the gang finally manages to drive away, a man jumps onto the car – prompting Clyde to shoot him in the face.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The sequence opens with an extreme long shot taken from under the awning of an establishment, serving to immerse the viewer in the evocative rural Southern town. This shot is deliberately framed as to draw the viewer’s attention towards the crossroads at the centre of the town, naturally guiding our focus towards the bank. The bank itself is highly decrepit and derelict, perhaps being indicative of the negative effects suffered by these small establishments after the Great Depression. Each extra that appears in the scene are real townsfolk, preserving to the authenticity of the scene.
As we cut to the bank itself, we are presented with an appropriately desolate setting – the use of a wooden brown further establishes the bank as part of the rural Southern community. Clyde wears a navy blue suit, juxtaposing Bonnie’s crème-coloured clothes – perhaps symbolising Clyde’s history with robbery and crime. Bonnie also interestingly dons a beret, an evocative piece of French fashion that subtly paying homage to the French New Wave, a movement that highly influenced the film’s production. The couple are also framed within a frame as they enter the bank, drawing further audience focus to them.
The couple framed within a frame
The dialogue and movements within the bank appear to be largely improvised, indicative of the film’s attempts to strive for reality. As Bonnie and Clyde holds up the bank, the soundscape is fully diegetic, which creates a naturalistic atmosphere. This scene is edited in parallel with C.W. Moss outside, attempting to park the car away from the bank. These shots are edited in a much more conventional sequence, being reminiscent of the Classical Hollywood style.
During the getaway itself, the diegetic sound of the alarm bell promptly enters the mix which immediately heightens the tension. The pace of editing also quickens, rapidly cutting between closeups of Clyde pointing his gun at the window with closeups of the man latched onto the car behind the window. As Clyde shoots the man in the mouth, we cut to a centrally-framed closeup in which a shockingly graphic amount of blood is displayed. This gratuitous display of violence breached the boundaries of what was allowed within cinema for the time, through which Bonnie and Clyde later garnered a notorious reputation for. After witnessing the couple’s distraught reactions, we cut to another closeup that showcases the man’s face sliding down the window. This repulsive display of violence instils a sense of uneasy discomfort within the viewer – the audience is forced to confront and later contemplate Clyde’s violent actions.
This sequence interestingly mirrors the earlier scene of Clyde robbing the grocery store in the opening sequence, yet the absence of a jaunty Bluegrass score strips the sequence of its prior light-hearted mood. The viewer is now fully confronted with the gritty reality of Bonnie and Clyde’s actions, enhancing the film’s endeavour to strive for naturalistic authenticity.
The opening sequence of Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) promptly introduces us to the eponymous couple’s tumultuous relationship. They meet after Bonnie spots Clyde out of her window attempting to steal her mother’s car. The pair quickly hit it off, enjoying some Coca Cola before Clyde decides to hold up a grocery store. The sequence concludes with Bonnie and Clyde making a quick getaway in a stolen car. The opening sequence also serves to introduce us to the setting of 1930s Southern America, in which the effects of the Great Depression and the Prohibition Era subtly permeated throughout the country.
Key Elements, Context, and Representation
The sequence opens with the iconic Warner Brothers logo graded in a noticeably desaturated sepia tone. This alteration of the logo aptly fits the style of the film. The film itself begins with a sequence of still photographs that provide a split-second snapshot of life throughout the Southern states of America during the Great Depression. This style of reportage storytelling is converged purely though these black and white still images that purport a seemingly authentic image of poverty in America. This sequencing of images is accompanied by the sound of camera clicks, further contributing to the purported image of reality being presented.
The title cards displaying Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway’s names are both centralised and capitalised, before the title cards dissolve into red, perhaps being an early indication of the violent tone the film has. The lack of non diegetic sound throughout the opening titles serves to immerse the audience into the world of the film, which is attempting to purport a gritty, realistic documentary style. These pictures are intercut with the opening credits, which display the names of important key figures who collectively collaborated on the film. Firstly is the director of photography, Burnett Guffey, and editor Dede Allen – two key figures who were inspired by the French New Wave who contributed towards shaping the film into the way it is. The film also displays the names of the screenwriting duo – David Newman and Robert Benton. Bonnie and Clyde was the duo’s first effort, the film marking a period of collaboration between Newman and Benton between the late 1960s to the early 1980s. The film was arguably spearheaded by producer and star Warren Beatty, who was responsible for assembling the aforementioned screenwriters as well as the director, Arthur Penn. Beatty also decided to present Clyde as having an ambiguous sexuality throughout the film, which subverts the typical masculine qualities of the noble American hero.
The final pictures displayed are of Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty themselves in costume as Bonnie and Clyde, presented alongside some essential contextual info. This acts to link the superficial world of the film with the authentic reality of the real Bonnie and Clyde. Releasing in 1967, the film takes place in 1931 – a mere two years after the Wall Street Crash of 1929, inciting a period of mass poverty throughout America, a time in which people migrated across the country in order to eat and work.
The diegetic sound of Bonnie’s record player immediately provides a strong evocation of the 1930s, being a contemporary piece of the time. The sound gradually rises in the mix before we cross-fade into an extreme closeup of Bonnie’s lips. This first shot is extremely striking, contrasting Casablanca’s formal style of shot sequencing that involves a mid-shot followed by a closeup. Penn instead throws us straight into the action, immediately sexualising Bonnie through this extreme closeup. Her red lips are associated with morally dubious women and are symbolic of sex. The use of a handheld camera, cutting edge technology embraced by the French New Wave, allows for a quick pan to reveal Bonnie in the mirror. This movement feels highly spontaneous and not choreographed, unlike the camera movement present throughout Casablanca.
The introductory shot of Bonnie, an extreme closeup of her lips
Bonnie being naked in her room was particularly risqué for the time – her proactive state represents her as wild and free-spirited. Throughout this first scene, the camera remains tightly focused in on Bonnie, allowing the viewer to form an immediate connection to her. She is positioned behind the bars of her bed, suggesting that she currently feels imprisoned by her life. The camera then rises up into an extreme closeup of her eyes. During this, the camera does not focus immediately and has to pull back. The use of a handheld camera allows for this fluid and spontaneous movement reminiscent of the French New Wave. Bonnie’s beauty is presented in a more authentic and naturalistic manner, which contrasts Ilsa who is presented in soft focus with meticulous use of lighting to purport her beauty artificially. This opening sequence of Bonnie in her room pushes the regulations of the Hays code to the limit, serving as a precedent for what is to come.
The first shot of Clyde is filmed through the mosquito net, creating an authentic atmosphere that feels more tangible than Casablanca’s constructed reality. The film was shot entirely on location in the Southern states of America, displaying the poverty that these streets endured throughout the 1930s. This depiction of poverty is also akin to the French New Wave. Natural lighting is also used, further adding to the naturalistic setting. When Bonnie talks, she does not speak with a Mid-Atlantic accent like Ilsa, but instead conveys a much more realistic depiction of a regional Southern accent. During her first line of dialogue, the low-angle shot of Bonnie in the window is filmed with a zoom lens from a distance. This convenient style of filmmaking allows for each shot to be filmed in one position, this being representative of New Hollywood’s influences. The dialogue exchanged between the couple is recorded on location and, because of this, appears to be buried in the mix which creates a more naturalistic feel.
In films like Casablanca, women such as Ilsa portrayed in a much more elegant and graceful manner. In Bonnie and Clyde however, Bonnie’s flirtatious behaviour towards Clyde marks a particularly edgy portrayal of a female character for the 1960s. The film presents Bonnie as a bored and uneducated waitress, and Clyde as a convict. Being characteristic of the French New Wave, the film is presents a ground story about real lives – encouraging the viewer to empathise with the couple more. As the couple walk the streets, the poverty-stricken nature of the town becomes apparent, reflecting the effects of the Great Depression.
The couple then decide to drink some Coca Cola, during which the bottles connote provocatively phallic imagery. This sexually suggestive imagery pushes the boundaries of what was acceptable in Hollywood during the 1960s. This scene is also introduced through a closeup of Clyde drinking from the bottle, with no contextual establishing shots used. The fact that Bonnie and Clyde choose to drink Coca Cola is also perhaps representative of the Prohibition Era that was still in effect during 1931. Clyde’s pistol also provides more sexually suggestive imagery when Bonnie touches it. The mise-en-scène present throughout the scene is also highly realistic, with Franklin D. Roosevelt campaign posters being plastered on the walls, serving to immerse the audience in the 1930s time period. The fact that the majority of the sequence is made up of diegetic sound, most of which was recorded on set, helps to create authentic verisimilitude throughout the scene.
Clyde drinking the Coke bottle is both a phallic symbol and represents the Prohibition Era
Clyde is portrayed as physically debilitated as he limps over the course of the entire film, aligning with his prison backstory that he informs Bonnie of earlier in the scene. His physical disability further emasculates Clyde, providing more nuance and depth to his character. As he enters the grocery store, we do not actually see the robbery. The film is attempting to direct its focus towards the couple’s relationship, rather than the illegal acts that they involve themselves in, the audience is thus denied the pleasure of seeing a thrilling robbery set-piece.
As the couple make their escape, a upbeat non-diegetic promptly enters the mix. This Bluegrass score is notably banjo-oriented, creating a playful and light-hearted mood as Bonnie and Clyde steal the car and make their escape. Back projection is also implemented to create the illusion of Clyde driving the car, with a similar technique being employed during the Paris flashback sequence in Casablanca.
The final sequence of Casablanca is widely regarded as one of the most poignant scenes across cinema. We are displayed a heartfelt final goodbye between Rick and Ilsa, before Rick shoots Major Strasser – symbolising good triumphing over evil. The sequence ends with Rick and Renault walking off into the mist, before Rick speaks the iconic final line of the film: “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”.
Cinematography
The sequence opens on a mid-tracking shot of an airport attendee, before coming to rest on the moving car. The camera then tracks the movements of the passengers leaving the car, before pulling out further into a five-shot that displays who Captain Renault is speaking to. This is a clear example of the Classical Hollywood style of camera technique, and blocking which prevents the requirement for any jarring cuts that would shatter the immersion for the viewer.
Rick and Ilsa’s final exchange is filmed with a tight two-shot, framing them in a romantic manner. This also alleviates the requirement to film a shot/reverse shot sequence, which would be less immersive. Both characters are filmed in a shallow depth of focus, directing the viewer’s attention towards Rick and Ilsa.
Sound
A number of reoccurring leitmotifs can be heard in Steiner’s non-diegetic score during this sequence, including As Time Goes By. This encourages the viewer to reminisce on Rick and Ilsa’s relationship, and how it has evolved over the course of the film.
Mise-en-scène
Lighting is utilised to make Rick’s eyes glisten alongside Ilsa’s for the the first time, emphasising the heartfelt nature of their final conversation. He has finally come to terms with his relationship with Ilsa.
Editing
A rapid shot/reverse shot sequence is employed between Rick and Major Strasser heightens the tension of the scene, before cutting to an over-the-shoulder shot that displays Rick’s quickdraw victory.
Performance
Renault’s line “round up the usual suspects” harkens back to his earlier line heard in the opening sequence. It informs us that he is not going to incriminate Rick, reinforcing his sleazy demeanour.
Context and Representation
Instead of immediately shooting Strasser, Rick gives him three chances before finally shooting him in a non-fatal way. This represents Rick as the noble rugged individual American protagonist archetype.
When Strasser is shot, no blood is displayed due to the restrictions of the Hays Code. This emphasises the content restrictions that Casablanca had to abide by.
Renault actively chooses to throw the Vichy-labelled water into the bin, proceeding to then kick it. This symbolically reflects Jack L. Warner’s views on the abolition of fascism – it is his way of encouraging America to join the war.
This sequence begins with Rick glumly drinking in his café alone, after coincidentally reuniting with Ilsa after she happens to walk into his abode, stating the famous line: “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine”. After Sam walks in, he requests for him to play As Time Goes By, reminding himself of his time with Ilsa in Paris. We then transition into a flashback sequence. This example of analepsis serves to contextualise Rick and Ilsa’s relationship in Paris, also informing us that Ilsa ran away without telling Rick in order to save her husband – Laszlo – whom she’d presumed to be dead in a concentration camp.
Cinematography
The scene where Rick sits in the bar is shot with dim lighting, shrouding Rick within a thick shadow. This aptly reflects his distraught state of mind.
The closeup of Ilsa’s final note to Rick is left on the screen for an appropriate amount of time as to provide the viewer with enough time to read it. The fact that the ink is melting on the page is perhaps also symbolic of the two lovers’ relationship melting away.
As Ilsa enters Rick’s café when we return to the present, over-exposure is implemented to portray Ilsa as a beacon of light. This illustrates her as an angelic deity, entering Rick’s dark inner sanctum.
Sound
As we transition into the analeptic flashback sequence, Steiner’s non-diegetic soars to a crescendo in the mix.
During the café sequence, Sam can be seen playing As Time Goes By, which recontextualises the previous interaction between Sam and Ilsa.
Mise-en-scène
The shot of Rick and Ilsa driving is shot with the use of back projection, creating the illusion of a Parisian vista being behind the couple.
Makeup has been applied to Rick and Ilsa to make them appear younger during the flashback sequence. Rick’s face appears to be much less wrinkly and rugged due to the fact that he is wearing concealer.
The Eiffel Tower can be seen in the background of the set, informing the audience that we are in Paris. A number of props can also be seen throughout this sequence, such as Ilsa’s beret and a model of the Eiffel Tower in the café. These silently remind the viewer of the location that this flashback is taking place in – Paris.
The heavy rain at the train station as Rick hopelessly waits for Ilsa to arrive is an example of pathetic fallacy, reflecting Rick’s distressed inner turmoil.
Editing
Despite the fact that Sam is playing piano, the camera remains on a closeup of Rick, highlighting his importance as the protagonist.
To initiate the flashback sequence, the camera pushes into a tight closeup of Rick, before fading to white. We then cross-fade between an array of positive memories of Rick and Ilsa in Paris, characterising their relationship.
Performance
Rick utters his famous line: “Here’s looking at you, kid” during the flashback, foreshadowing Rick and Ilsa’s final goodbye at the end of the film.
Context and Representation
The use of analepsis in the film is a notable deviation from the Classical Hollywood style. The vast majority of films released throughout this period were told in a predominantly linear fashion, as to tell a simple narrative in a clear and easily digestible fashion. Despite this, the extended flashback sequence is told through normal continuity as to not confuse the viewer.
The striking implementation of real wartime newsreel footage ground this sequence in reality, reinforcing the war setting that the film was both set and filmed during.
Rick dons a trench coat and hat during the train station scene, paying homage to Humphrey Bogart’s classic detective roles during the Film Noir scene. This is an example of Warner Bros. capitalising on the ‘stable’ of stars that they possessed, using them to their fullest capability.
Auteur
The dialogue during the flashback sequence is highly expositional, serving to clearly explaining the events of the Nazis invading France. The viewer now has a clear understanding of Rick and Ilsa’s relationship in Paris, and thus forms an emotional connection to them.
This sequence establishes the foundations of the history that Rick, Ilsa, and Sam share together during their time in Paris. At this point, the events of what actually happened are shrouded in mystery, and the viewer is left to ponder why the relationship between the characters is so tense. This sequence also introduces us to the main theme of the film – As Time Goes By – which is performed by Sam.
Cinematography
We spend the majority of the conversation between Sam and Ilsa looking at Ilsa, with the typical shot/reverse shot sparsely being used.
As Sam plays As Time Goes By we cut to an extended reactionary shot of Ilsa. From this, the viewer is able to infer that she has an emotional connection to the song.
As Rick enters the room, we cut to a low-angle shot that frames him centrally. This provides an appropriately dramatic entrance for the tense reunion between the past lovers.
Rick’s depth of field is much deeper than Ilsa’s subconsciously diverting the viewer’s attention towards Ilsa’s glamour. The closeup of Rick draws attention to his rugged, craggy appearance, whilst also being able to take in the surroundings of the café.
Sound
As Time Goes By is expertly implemented as an emotionally manipulative diegetic piece that provides an appropriate romantic evocation – it was specifically selected by Max Steiner himself.
As Rick and Ilsa see each other, Steiner’s emotional score promptly enters the mix, highlighting the tension between the couple.
Mise-en-scène
Rick’s café as a set is arguably the heart of the production, being meticulously designed and highly expensive. The location is inevitably displayed often, foregrounding the lavish production values.
Ilsa wears extravagant jewellery that glistens in the light, highlighting her beauty.
Careful blocking of the actors allows for everything of importance to be visible in the frame. For example, Laszlo moves out of the way when Renault calls a waiter to the table in order to display who he is talking to.
Editing
In typical Classical Hollywood fashion, Curtiz employs a shot/reverse shot sequence between Rick and Ilsa. However, the closeups of Ilsa are much more prolonged, highlighting her radiant appearance.
Reframing the composition of the shot provides a seamless transition from a four-shot to a three-shot, reducing the frequency of potentially jarring cuts.
Performance
At the end of the sequence, Rick silently conveys his emotions. His distraught facial expression emphasises his emotional inner turmoil as he turns to face the camera. Although he doesn’t look directly into the camera, this mid shot of Rick appropriately illustrates his wistful state of mind.
Context and Representation
The dialogue between Rick and Ilsa is highly melodramatic, reflecting the conventions of the romance genre that the film conforms to. The specific language used successfully manipulates the viewer to tug on their heartstrings and emotional resonate with the characters.
Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, Humphrey Bogart was a film star who was often typecast as the ‘rugged individual’ archetype. Studios capitalised upon the fact that audiences went to see films in order to see their favourite stars, and Rick’s character epitomises Bogart’s acting strengths.
This sequence serves to introduce us to two more important characters in the film – Victor Laszlo and Ilsa Lund. As they sit at a table in the café, we learn that Victor Laszlo is a fugitive Czech Resistance leader who narrowly escaped a concentration camp. Strasser confronts Laszlo in the café, and the two face off against each other in attempt to stand their ground. Under Major Strasser’s command, Captain Renault arranges a meeting with Laszlo for the next morning.
Cinematography
A tracking shot is used to follow the movements of the couple as they enter the cafe, diverting the viewer’s attention towards them.
During the dialogue sequence, the camera moves fluidly, panning up and down whilst maintaining a gliding motion. This allows the composition of the shot to easily be reframed without having a convoluted shot/reverse shot sequence.
Main, back, and fill lighting is used to light Ilsa in a highly flattering and glamours manner, as opposed to Renault who is lit more modestly, in order to appear more compassionate.
The closeups of Ilsa use a much shallower depth of field than the closeups of Lazslo, which fully draws the viewer’s attention towards her glamorous appearance.
Sound
When Laszlo and Ilsa approach Sam, the diegetic sound of his piano playing rises in the mix, immersing the viewer into their position. Conversely, the piano lowers in the mix during the dialogue scenes in order to efficiently convey exposition.
Mise-en-scène
In the last sequence, we were introduced to Rick wearing a white suit. As Lazslo and Ilsa enter the café, we can see that the couple are also both wearing white – with Ilsa’s costume being the whitest. This use of colour is representative of the characters’ purity and innocence, whilst also drawing the viewer’s eyes towards Ilsa’s radiant appearance.
Editing
When Laszlo speaks to the resistance member, Curtiz employs the use of a shot/reverse shot sequence to display who is talking at a specific moment.
Performance
Laszlo’s expression is stoic, emphasising his resilient nature after enduring the torturous concentration camp. Ilsa, on the other hand, appears to be nervous as she enters Rick’s abode, provoking questions in the viewer’s mind. We also see Sam’s reaction to the couple’s arrival – his face exudes a sense of apprehension when he sees Ilsa, which suggests that he knows her from the past.
Context and Representation
Ilsa (played by Ingrid Bergman) was an international film star and was thus dressed in a radiant manner, andlit in a highly flattering lighting in order to fully accentuate her feminine beauty. This can be seen through her meticulous neat hair and how her skin does not contain a single blemish. Bergman was predominantly filmed from her left side, so that the three-point lighting caught her eyes in a way that made them appear to shine.
Conversely, the male characters – such as Rick and Laszlo -are lit in are a more obscured lighting to emphasise their ruggedness. This is exemplary of Warner Bros. selling the ideal of glamour within their films, a notion that was highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style.
Ilsa speaks in a Mid-Atlantic accent – a superficial accent used frequently throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood. This accent blends the British and American accents in a way that appeals to both audiences and also conveys a sense of aristocracy and elegance.
Major Strasser is presented as a cold and ruthless force during his confrontation with Lazslo, standing over him to assert his dominance. Laszlo then stands up out of his chair to tower over him, shifting the power dynamic. This paints Laszlo as the ‘noble European’, standing up to the nefarious Nazi forces.
“Rick’s Introductory Sequence” serves to introduce us to the primary location of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) – Rick’s Café Américain. The entire café was a set built for the film, and this sequence serves to foreground the illicit dealings that occur within the establishment, alongside introducing us to the protagonist of the film after 10 minutes of build-up – Rick Blaine played by Humphrey Bogart.
Cinematography
The scene opens on a long shot of Rick’s café, which then cuts to a wide shot that clearly displays the sign for the viewer to see. This sequence of shots is typical of the Classical Hollywood style that Casablanca epitomises.
Curtiz employs a multitude of sophisticated filmmaking techniques in this sequence that are presented in a seamless manner. The camera movements are very smooth and appear to glide around the set, which was achieved by the bespoke set constructed purely for the film. This seamless camera movement is reminiscent of a Steadicam, which was not invented until 1974.
One character holds the door open for the camera, breaking the fourth wall. This is almost as if the camera is a customer entering Rick’s café which serves to provide a heightened sense of immersion. The shot then becomes a crab shot, displaying the set in all its splendour.
The camera tracks a waiter’s movements across the cafe, creating a flowing rhythm as we move to the new location which lies deeper within the cafe. This area exists within the inter area of the bar, perhaps representing a deeper core of Rick’s establishment.
As we eventually cut to the casino, we are first introduced to Rick through a closeup of a document that he is authorising. The fact that he uses his own name to represent his authority, merely writing OK RICK” establishes that he sits at the highest level of importance within the café. We then cut to a shot of Rick’s arm handing the document to another man, before the camera finally tilts up into a closeup of Rick himself.
Curtiz briefly pulls Rick out of focus in order to draw attention to his rugged and weary face, demonstrating that he is a weathered and experienced figure.
The sequence concludes with an over-the-shoulder shot of Rick observing his empire. Each person appears to be looking up at Rick, seeking his approval.
Sound
As the camera crabs and pushes in towards Sam, the diegetic sound of Sam’s singing rises in the mix. We are able to hear him more clearly the closer the camera gets, further immersing the viewer within the establishment.
Mise-en-scène
The actors are deliberately blocked out of the way of the camera, which allows for clean shots of the interior. This immerses the viewer within Rick’s world as we seamlessly glide into his inner sanctum.
The chessboard on Rick’s desk perhaps conveys symbolism. We can see that the black pieces are on Rick’s sides, emphasising his mysterious and powerful presence. Rick also smokes and drinks alcohol, which conveys his masculinity to the viewer. The camera finally tilts up to reveal that Rick is wearing a white tuxedo and a black bow tie, emphasising his elegance and sophistication.
Editing
After the closeup of Sam singing, we cut to a wide shot of a different angle of the café. Through the use of a sophisticated L-cut, we are still able to hear Sam singing. This subconsciously informs the viewer of the fact that we are still in Rick’s café, despite the cut to a different angle.
Performance
To inform us of the fact that the bar is a seedy location, the viewer is presented with some shady exchanges in which the actors speak in a hushed manner. For example, a man tells a man to remember to pay him in cash, which provokes the viewer to fill in the blanks. This reinforces the secretive and illicit nature of this dealings.
Context and Representation
Rick’s café is another expensive set that a large portion of the film takes place in. Because of this, the set is displayed frequently in order to foreground the lavish production values of the constructed reality that is the café.
Rick’s iconic white tuxedo with a black bow tie inspired the likes of later cinematic icons like James Bond.
The fact that Rick is displayed drinking and smoking only serves to paint him as a rugged, masculine individual. To contrast this, the women seen in the café are lit in a juxtaposing light, serving to accentuate their femininity.
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.
The opening sequence of Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) serves to aptly introduce the viewer to the film, establishing the setting, tone, and general premise. The sequence is highly expositional, utilising narration to explain the current war situation, as well as why refugees are fleeing to Casablanca. We also learn of the two German couriers suspected of possessing the important documents, and witness a murder occur in broad daylight. This all serves to present the Nazis as the domineering antagonistic force of the film.
Cinematography
The opening narration is accompanied by the animation of a dramatic spinning globe, after which the camera pushes into a visual representation of the journey.
The idyllic nature of the city begins to fade as the camera tilts down into the crowded streets. This reveals an expansive set populated by a mass of extras.
The man speaking into the telephone is centrally framed in full focus as he speaks into the telephone, fully diverting the viewer’s attention towards him and the expositional dialogue he recites. He proceeds to explain the case of the German couriers suspected of being in Casablanca possessing important documents.
Sound
The first notable aspect of Casablanca’s opening sequence is Max Steiner’s highly triumphant score that enters the mix in a grandiose manner as the credits roll, which naturally segues into the French national anthem. This provides a twofold sense of international exoticism alongside patriotism. After the opening credits sequence concludes, the score lowers in the mix and the non-diegetic narration rises in the mix.
The diegetic narration establishes the exposition for the film, explaining the path the refugees take in order to reach Casablanca.
Steiner’s non-diegetic score now lowers in the mix, foregrounding the diegetic busy ambience of the streets.
The French national anthem is played in a minor key after the murder, emphasising the political unrest that lies at the heart of Casablanca.
Mise-en-scène
Casablanca is portrayed as an idyllic destination through the use of narration, which is merely accentuated by a hand drawn matte painting of the city. This illustrates a vivid world of vitality, yet the clouds are dark – suggesting that a force of evil resides within the city.
As we cut back to the streets of the city, an erratic atmosphere is created. Each extra is blocked in a way that creates a sense of business, as the police car enters the scene.
Editing
We cross-fade between each country, after which the camera pulls out to display the scale. The map is superimposed onto live-action footage, providing a dual sense of enticing scale alongside realism. This ultimately provides a sense of heightened immersion for the viewer.
We then cross-fade into the office of a man receiving a telegram.
The pace of the editing begins to quicken, demonstrating the urgency of the situation. This sequence merely serves to assist the narrative, providing a sense of urgency that contextualises the persecution of the refugees in the city.
Performance
A sense of escalation is created through the narration as the man utters the line “wait… and wait”, suggesting that hopelessness is exuded throughout Casablanca.
Although most of these scenarios occur silently, we are presented one where the dialogue is able to be heard. This efficient method of storytelling is highly typical of the Classical Hollywood style prominent during the Golden Age of Hollywood.
The German soldiers speak in highly exaggerated accents, informing the audience that they are not filming locally in Morocco and instead employ American actors to put on an accent.
Context and Representation
The film opens with a large Warner Bros. logo, with Jack L. Warner’s name proudly displayed at the forefront, immediately informing the viewing that it is ‘his’ film. Despite his lack of personal involvement, Warner pioneered the film’s production and oversaw prolific elements of the pre-production stage. The stars, such as Humphrey Bogart and Paul Henreid are listed before the title of the film itself, demonstrating that the stars outweighed the film in terms of influence. It is also interesting to make note of the fact that Michael Curtiz’ name is the same size as the rest of the producers, suggesting a level of equal collaboration between them – reinforcing the idea of the studio auteur.
The film is shot in black and white, which was highly characteristic of Warner Bros. at the time. By 1942, colour had been implemented into a small number films for around a decade, such as The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939), but the technology was considered by many to be a ‘gimmick’. During the time of Casablanca’s release, black and white was arguably at its peak. Choosing to continue a film in black and white despite the invention of colour demonstrated artistic nuance, as the iconic ‘noir aesthetic’ had now been refined for over 50 years. Colour was not as ‘sterile’ as black and white was during this time, only being able to display highly saturated colours.
When the man possessing the out-of-date documents is shot by the Nazis, no blood is displayed at all – he merely falls over and the viewer must assume he is dead. This is indicative of the Hays code: the content regulations that each of the Hollywood studios had to conform to. The effects of violence were not allowed to be shown on screen, and even firing a gun at someone was pushing the limits of the regulations.
The leaflet embossed with the ‘Free France’ propaganda message is centrally framed, being symbolically ironic due to the man being shot under the French message that is promoting freedom. This demonstrates Jack L. Warner’s influence upon the film – he firmly believed that war should feature prominently throughout the film, and it is suspected that the film was his way of signalling America to join the war.
Throughout the Golden Age of Hollywood, a distinctive style of filmmaking was birthed under the control of the studio system. Being produced between the 1930-1960s, the filmmakers aptly utilised each of the key elements of film form in order to augment the emotional weight of the narrative being told.
The films produced throughout this era often shared a handful of common narrative conventions. These included a psychologically defined individual who is caught in a struggle to solve a problem or achieve their goals. There is usually a conflict between this central protagonist and other external circumstances, before resulting in a clear-cut victory or defeat at the end of the film.
This narrative-driven and newly audiovisual style of filmmaking has been broken down into the key elements below, with a few specific examples from Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942) being provided.
Mind map that details the features of Classical Hollywood style
Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)is arguably the most prolific and well-acclaimed film released during the Golden Age era of Hollywood. It is an American romance/drama film starring Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid. Being a landmark of cinema, Casablanca’s characters, quotes, and evocative theme song have garnered an iconic status over the last 80 years.
Plot
The film was both shot and takes place during World War II, centering around the protagonist, Rick Blaine – a cynical owner of a gambling den in Casablanca, Morocco – a French colony. The club is a cultural hub of refugees attempting to acquire visas to depart for America, who remained neutral in the war at the time. Rick’s cafe also hosts a number of Vichy French and German officials who attempt to persecute these refugees. Rick himself claims to be neutral in all matters, but we soon learn that he was a gunrunner for Ethiopia during the Second Italo-Ethiopian War and also fought for the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, demonstrating to the viewer that he fights for justice.
A crook called Ugarte has obtained “letters of transit” by killing two German couriers. These letters allow the bearers to travel freely around German-occupied Europe. Being highly sought after among the refugees in Rick’s club, Ugarte plans to sell them and persuades Rick to hold the letters for him. Ugarte is instead arrested by Captain Louis Renault – the corrupt police prefect of Casablanca – and dies in custody, keeping the fact that Rick has the letters secret.
Afterwards, a woman called Ilsa Lund enters Rick’s cafe. After Ilsa asks the club’s pianist, Sam, to play “As Time Goes By”, Rick becomes initially furious at Sam for disobeying his order to never play that song again. However, as Rick spots Ilsa, he is astonished and his anger is relieved immediately. It becomes clear that the couple have a history. Ilsa is married to Victor Laszlo, a Czech Resistance leader who is a fugitive and the couple seek an escape to America. A Nazi leader, Major Heinrich Strasser, enters the club in an attempt to arrest Victor.
After finding out that Rick possesses the letters of transit, Victor attempts to buy the letters off him. Rick refuses his offer and informs him to ask his wife, Ilsa, the reason why. Ilsa then confronts Rick to inquire why he refused her husband the letters, threatening him with a gun. She soon professes that she still loves Rick and explains that she thought that Victor had been killed while trying to escape from a concentration camp. We cut to a flashback sequence, and receive a glimpse of Rick and Ilsa’s time in Paris together. As the couple are about to flee the city together, Ilsa mysteriously abandons Rick without explanation to see her husband, who we learn is in a physically distraught condition after escaping the camp.
After learning this, Rick agrees to help the couple, falsely informing Ilsa that he will stay with her when Victor leaves. Victor enters unexpectedly and learns of Rick’s feelings for Ilsa. After she leaves, Victor tries to persuade him to use the letters of transit to take her to safety. Victor is then arrested by the police, during which Rick convinces Renault to release him by promising to set him up for the crime of possessing the letters. Rick explains to Renault that he and Ilsa are soon departing for America. Renault declines and attempts to arrest Victor, before Rick threatens him with a gun.
Right as the plane to Lisbon is about to leave, Rick tells Ilsa to board the plane with Victor, informing her that she would regret going with him and that “we’ll always have Paris”. Major Strasser attempts to intervene and arrest Victor, before Rick promptly shoots him. After the police arrive, Renault orders them to “round up the usual suspects”, before suggesting to Rick that they join the Free French in Brazzaville. As Victor and Ilsa depart for Lisbon, Rick and Renault walk away into the mist. Rick says, “Louis, I think is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
The final shot of the film
Context
The film was directed by Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian-American director who became the head of Warner Brothers’ Burbank studio. Curtiz’ filmography is vast, spanning over 100 films that were all released under Warner Brothers.
Released in 1942, Casablanca gained immediate critical success, winning three Oscars including Best Director – despite Warner Brothers’ apprehensiveness towards the film, fearing that it would flop. This was due to the fact that it was filmed over the course of three rushed months, with the actors and Curtiz not working well together on set. Casablanca was merely one of a multiplicity films released by Warner Brothers’ in 1942, and was neither the most expensive film nor the film the studio expected to take off.
Despite taking place in the exotic location of Casablanca in Morocco, the entire film was shot at Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, California – the only exception being the the opening sequence in which Strasser flies past a aeroplane hangar, filmed at Van Nuys Airport, Los Angeles.
As previously mentioned, the film was both shot and takes place during World War II. Interestingly, the film was shot a mere four months before the events of Pearl Harbour, which is why the United States remain a neutral territory in the film. It exists in a liminal period in which America was fully at war, but not yet fully immersed in a propagandistic war ideology.
A shot from the opening sequence of Casablanca
Techniques
The film’s narrative is predominantly linear, with Curtiz making use of one flashback sequence to illustrate Rick and Ilsa’s romantic affairs in Paris. Curtiz also employs lots of centrally-framed closeups of both Rick and Ilsa, with key lighting and fill lighting also being implemented. Through this, both harsh shadows and well-defined outlines of the characters are created. This, alongside the fact that the film is in black and white accentuates the wistful emotion and atmosphere of the film. Due to the lighting, Ilsa appears to be emanating a sort of radiance which contributes to the mythical nature of her character. Rick’s cafe also feels incredibly lived-in and bustling through the use of blocking, mise-en-scène, and diegetic ambience.
As previously mentioned, the film’s main theme is particularly iconic – the diegetic implementation of the 1931 jazz piece, As Time Goes By. The piece provides a strong romantic evocation, and is played by Sam, the house pianist, in Rick’s club.
I really enjoyed Casablanca for the inarguably timeless romance story it offered, underpinned by the hardships faced by the refugees of World War II . It holds up extremely well for an 80-year-old film, and its prestigious pedestal in cinematic history is well deserved.
Overall, I would rate Casablanca ★★★★.
A central closeup of Ilsa,enhanced by key and fill lighting
Night Fishing (Park Chan-wook, 2011) is a South Korean 33-minute short film of the fantasy/horror genre. The film entails a man who reels the seemingly dead body of a woman during a evening fishing trip. After suddenly rising from the dead, the man and woman symbolically swap clothes, before the fisherman is killed and his spirit enters the woman. Afterwards, the scene starkly changes – we cut to the woman who we can assume is a spirit channeller, rising from a bath. The man speaks to his family using the woman as a vessel, begging his estranged daughter for forgiveness at his own funeral.
The film’s main ‘gimmick’ is the fact that it was shot entirely on an iPhone 4, perhaps Park’s way of displaying the advancement of digital technology throughout the modern age. However, due to this, the film’s resolution is of a low quality and hasn’t particularly aged well. The digital grading employed by Park throughout the film is also highly prolific, with the colours appearing to be overly saturated particularly during the opening sequence. This saturation is later juxtaposed during the ‘night fishing’ scene where the opposite is apparent – colour appears to have been digitally drained from the setting.
The narrative structure of the film is also very convoluted. Although the events seem to play out in chronological order, the sheer nonsensicality of the plot instils an acute sense of disorientation within the viewer, albeit an extremely memorable viewing experience. The non-diegetic composed score featured throughout the film also accentuates the dramatic events on-screen.
Personally, I enjoyed Night Fishing for its highly idiosyncratic means of storytelling but was however slightly disillusioned by the actual events of the narrative. The aforementioned choice by Park to film entirely on an iPhone 4 now seems incredibly gimmicky rather than revolutionary, and the film shows its age in this regard. The film demonstrated to me how an unorthodox narrative structure can disorient the viewer in an effective and meaningful way.
Swimmer (Lynne Ramsay, 2012) is a 16-minute short film that displays an unnamed swimmer’s journey through a series of rural rivers, during which he encounters an array of people in an attempt to reconnect with society.
The film’s narrative is highly ambiguous in nature and does not conform to a cohesive three-act structure. The film immediately makes its most vital priority clear: creating a stunning visual spectacle. The opening POV shot establishes a serene and pensive tone which continues throughout whilst also placing the viewer in the mind of the swimmer. It is at this point that we are also introduced to the slick greyscale grading seen throughout the film. Another key aspect of the aesthetic of Swimmer is Ramsay’s careful consideration of the sun’s reflection onto the water, which is particularly breathtaking in the final scene.
The soundscape primarily consists of the tranquil diegetic sounds of the splashing water in tandem with a juxtaposing non-diegetic compiled score that is evocative of British patriotism. After the titular swimmer is shot by an arrow at the hand of a tribal child, the pace of editing becomes extremely tumultuous which is reflective of the state of mind of the swimmer.
Personally, I did not receive much enjoyment from Swimmer due to its lack of any particular narrative complexity or character development. The stunning visual spectacle was indeed beautiful, but the novelty soon wore off. The film demonstrated to me the effective combination of diegetic and non-diegetic sound used to build up atmosphere.
The Grandmother (David Lynch, 1970) is 33-minute short film, being one of the very first films by visionary director David Lynch. Typical of Lynch’s work, the film is highly abstract and expressive throughout the portrayal of its narrative, depicting the struggles of a young boy living in an abusive household. Utilising a combination of live action and animation produced by Lynch himself, the boy is displayed ‘growing’ a grandmother from a mysterious pack of seeds he finds.
Throughout the film, Lynch employs a wide variety of techniques in order to create a chillingly eerie experience. The setting is highly minimalistic, merely depicting bedrooms and a dining room that exist in an abyss-like realm. Lynch implements the use of high contrast lighting, which works in tandem with the makeup applied to both the boy and the grandmother – the two characters appear to be reminiscent of a ghost through the use of pale makeup.
Pale makeup is applied to both the boy and the grandmother
Other uses of mise-en-scène include the strangely placed and conveniently labelled bag of seeds, alongside the cocoon-like plant from which the grandmother is born – permeating a sense of uncanny hyperbole. The soundscape is mostly non-diegetic, with the use of dissonant screeches and peculiar booming ambience utilised throughout to build atmosphere. The only diegetic sound heard throughout the film is the unintelligible screams of the parents towards their son.
Another highly expressive element of the film is the editing, which strikingly appears to be sequenced frame-by-frame at specific points in the film. Alongside the stilted one dimensional performances by each actor, this creates an extremely unnerving sense of dread throughout the film.
Personally, I relatively enjoyed The Grandmother for what it had to offer: a highly experimental experience that instils an acute sense of unease in the viewer. It is clear that this is the work of a young, untamed David Lynch. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of highly expressive and exaggerated mise-en-scène, used to elicit a particular meaning.
Curfew (Shawn Christensen, 2012) is an Oscar-winning 19-minute short film about a suicidal man, Richie, who is asked by his estranged sister to look after his niece, Sophia, for the evening. Over the course of the film, the bond between the two characters grows and develops in many interesting ways. We learn that the reason that Richie has not seen Sophia since she was a baby is due to the fact that he dropped her on her head whilst taking care of her, leading to an important moment of development between the pair. After the day is over, Richie drops Sophia off at his sister’s house and returns home to commit suicide. However, the film ends with Richie being interrupted by another phone call from his sister on much nicer terms, requesting him once again to look after Sophia.
The film priorities narrative and character above all us, with Christensen utilising a simple three-act structure as well as a linear narrative throughout the film. The film could be classified under the ‘drama’ genre, meaning it doesn’t not have to conform to any particular conventions. The narrative could be argued as cyclical due to the film being bookended with scenes of Richie committing suicide in the bath. Despite this, Christensen also manages to successfully create an aesthetically pleasing experience, utilising the key elements of film form throughout.
For example, the film aptly incorporates colour in symbolically meaningful ways. Red is used as a symbol of Richie’s suicide, and can be seen within the bloodstained bath as well as the phone from which he receives the call from his sister. Conversely, blue is prominently displayed in the bowling alley scene with Sophia which suggests that both characters feel safe and have trust in one another. A shallow depth of field and artificial lighting both accentuate the dreamlike sense of wonder the pair experiences in each other’s presence. The film also features a particularly standout dance sequence that is in fact merely a hallucination of Richie’s mind. Throughout this, Christensen employs the use of a spinning camera, displaying Richie’s hallucinatory state of mind as well as a crab shot to follow Sophia dancing down the bowling alley. Christensen’s use of unorthodox techniques sets the scene apart from the rest of the film, alongside the use of a particularly dreamy composed score written by himself.
Christensen’s use of mise-en-scène throughout the film is also worthy of acclaim. Concerning costume design, Richie’s extremely rugged and dishevelled appearance starkly juxtaposes that of Sophia, who is warmly wrapped up in a large coat and wears a woolly hat. The contrast between the pair’s appearances reinforces the different backgrounds that the two originate from, and is an example of visual storytelling featured throughout the film. Richie is also unshaven and is often seen with a cigarette, further displaying his rough way of life.
One of the final shots of the film perfectly encapsulates Richie’s conflicted state of mind. He is filmed from an upside-down mid-closeup, displaying his defeated and hopeless expression. The red phone handset is also displayed in the frame, informing the viewer that an escape from the trauma is available to him, but at this moment, Richie is choosing to ignore it.
Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed Curfew from start to finish. Christensen incorporated the perfect blend of narrative, character development and aesthetic choices over the course of the film’s 19-minute duration. The performances by the duo are convincingly genuine and the film is also paced brilliantly. The film demonstrated to me the importance of colour palettes used in order to symbolise meaning.
A Girl’s Own Story (Jane Campion, 1984) is a 27-minute Australian short film which explores the stage of female adolescence during the 1960s. Choosing to film in black and white, Campion displays the narrative by intercutting between multiple storylines. The film takes place in Australia, during the height of Beatlemania, in which two school friends – Pam and Stella – both kiss cutouts of Beatles members. Afterwards, one of the girls wears a mask of Ringo Starr before they practice kissing each other. This is intercut with scenes of another schoolgirl, Gloria, who is coerced by her brother into roleplaying as cats. In addition to this, the film also explores the relationship between Pam’s estranged parents, who use their daughters to communicate with each other.
A Girl’s Own Story immediately establishes the main ideas explored over the duration of the film. The opening scene involves a group of schoolgirls who observe an image of the male anatomy, which is displayed to the viewer through the use of a glance object. This introduces the viewer to the themes of sex and adolescence which are explored throughout. Campion’s decision to film in black and white with a 4:3 aspect ratio aptly reflects the aesthetic of the time period. This is further reinforced through Campion’s carefully selected mise-en-scène – particularly the costume design of the traditional schoolgirl uniform.
Voiceover is also used sparingly throughout the film, allowing the viewer to delve deeper into the minds of the three protagonists. Campion also interestingly chooses to conclude the film with a song that is sung by our three main characters: Pam, Gloria and Stella. Through this, the three girls are able to express their adolescent inner turmoil that is portrayed over the course of the film.
Personally, I did not receive much enjoyment from A Girl’s Own Story and found myself particularly disengaged from the events portrayed onscreen. The characters and themes of the film did not resonate with me, and I found the choice to conclude the film with a song to be somewhat schmaltzy. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of parallel narratives throughout a short film.
The three protagonists singing during the final scene
The Wrong Trousers (Nick Park, 1993) is a 29-minute stop-motion animated short film which features the iconic duo Wallace and Gromit. The film’s plot entails Wallace letting out a room to a nefarious penguin, who attempts to use Wallace’s new invention, the ‘Techno-Trousers’ in order to steal a diamond from the city museum. Due to this being the second short film in which Wallace and Gromit feature, the film is able to waste no time in introducing the eccentric duo to the viewer. Utilising a linear three act structure and conforming to the conventions of the comedy/action genre, Park successfully creates a heartwarmingly enjoyable short film.
The iconic animated duo, Wallace and Gromit
The key to Wallace and Gromit’s success is the synergistic dichotomy between the duo. Loosely based on Park’s father, Wallace is a humble, good-natured inventor, whereas Gromit is depicted as much more mature, thoughtful and intelligent despite being unable to speak. Through this, the scene where Gromit leaves Wallace after the penguin occupies his room instills a dramatic emotional response in the viewer, exacerbated by a particularly mournful non-diegetic score.
Park creates tension throughout the film using a variety of closeup tracking shots in tandem with the aforementioned orchestral score. For example, during the heist scene, the penguin accidentally drops the diamond. To create tension, Park cuts between a closeup of the diamond and a closeup of the penguin’s alarmed expression, during which the orchestra plays stab chords at strikingly forte dynamics which immediately focuses the viewer’s attention. The POV shot of the penguin edging closer towards Gromit in the box is also particularly tense, due to the filmmaker’s choice to make the penguin’s diegetic footsteps the only sound discernible in the mix.
The style of animation featured throughout the film is also of particular importance. Aardman’s signature ‘clay-mation’ style of stop-motion filmmaking means that each frame of the film is precisely constructed. Due to this, Park is essentially allowed total creative freedom in terms of mise-en-scène – the discernibly metallic texture of the ‘Techno-Trousers’ juxtaposes every other object in the film, reinforcing the fact that it is highly advanced technology. The clay models also allow for Gromit to communicate entirely through gesture and body language.
Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Wrong Trousers and possess a bountiful amount of nostalgia for the film. Park’s unique style of animation alongside meaningful character and plot development result in a highly enjoyable short film experience. In my opinion, the film exceeds the likes of When the Day Breaks in terms of what an animated short is able to achieve. The film demonstrated to me the effectiveness of an appropriate score in building atmosphere and tension.
Meshes of the Afternoon is a 14-minute experimental short film directed by and starring Maya Daren and Alexandr Hackenschmied, a husband and wife duo. The film is highly avant-garde in nature, displaying ambiguous and psychologically stimulating symbols through mise-en-scène, including: flowers, keys, knives and mirrors. The events of the seemingly circular narrative are ultimately left up to the viewer’s own personal interpretation, creating a wholly unique experience.
The grim reaper–esque figure seen throughout the film holding a flower
The film uses a wide variety of visually intriguing editing techniques in order to make the film highly enigmatic throughout. Daren and Hackenschmied manipulate the viewer’s perception of reality and location through the use of match on action. The filmmakers also utilise the early limitations of film in a way that only helps the film flourish. The dark gaps between each frame are accentuated throughout the film, particularly during the staircase scene – cuts of the protagonist are displayed standing at different positions on the stairs, with no apparent movement in between. Through this, the filmmakers have truly demolished all sense of a coherent time and space.
Personally, I really enjoyed Meshes of the Afternoon and was highly engaged in the ambiguous narrative and was fascinated by eerie atmosphere that the film established. The film demonstrated to me that simple editing techniques can be used in an array of creative ways to shape how meaning is conveyed.
Stutterer (Benjamin Cleary, 2015) is a 12-minute short film which details the struggles of Greenwood, a reclusive typographer who suffers from a stutter. After talking to a girl for six months over Facebook, she finally decides to invite him to meet in real life as she is visiting London. The film details Greenwood’s anxiety as he attempts to muster up the courage to meet her, whilst also demonstrating the day-to-day social struggles he faces throughout his life.
The protagonist, Greenwood
The viewer is placed deep within Greenwood’s conflicted inner turmoil through the use of thought narration, instilling a strong sense of empathy in the viewer towards the protagonist. This is established immediately through the opening scene of the film, in which Greenwood’s stutter prevents him from discussing his bill over the phone. Cleary uses many centralised closeups of Greenwood to reinforce his position as the protagonist, as well as to display the plaster on his nose after he is involved in a violent conflict. Most of the film’s runtime is dedicated to developing Greenwood’s character, leading to a highly satisfying resolution.
The film follows the typical three act structure and additionally conforms to the typical conventions of a romantic drama. Stutterer prioritises narrative and character development above all else, utilising soft lighting and cinematography throughout. Cleary also incorporates elements of subtle visual storytelling into the film through mise-en-scène, displaying an array of books in Greenwood’s room, including sign language textbooks – reinforcing his introverted and secluded way of life.
Personally, I really enjoyed Stutterer and appreciated the simple but effective story it managed to tell brilliantly in a matter of 12 minutes. Embracing the conventions of the genre, the film aptly conveys themes of isolation and overcoming hardships throughout. The film demonstrated to me the importance of a cohesive three act structure and character development within the narrative of a short film.
The Gunfighter (Eric Kissack, 2014) is a 9-minute short film of a comedy/Western genre. The film revolves around a subversive twist of a stereotypical Western in which the narrator of the film can be heard by each of the characters. The film builds upon this gag in many creative ways, as we soon learn that the narrator is in fact omniscient and knows many humiliating details about each of the characters. The score later becomes diegetic, further breaking the fourth wall in a creative manner. The film results in a traditional Mexican standoff initiated by the narrator.
The titular Gunfighter as he hears the narrator for the first time
Kissack aptly utilises this gag in order to satirise the tropes of a stereotypical Western. He establishes the archetype of this widely overdone genre by carefully selecting an appropriately cliché score, as well as mise-en-scène (including the interior of the saloon and costume design) reminiscent of the genre. Kissack additionally satirises the racist attitudes typically depicted within the Western genre, due to the saloon having a black bartender who is appears to be fully accepted by the characters, which is a detail that the narrator comments on.
The omniscient narrator joke is introduced within the first minute of the film, which demonstrates the concise and pacy nature of the film. Due to this short duration, the one and only gag does not overstay its welcome and the film is over just as the joke becomes old. The final standoff is yet another ridicule of typical Western flicks.
I enjoyed The Gunfighter a considerable amount and it has demonstrated to me how a concise and enjoyable story can be told in a very short amount of time. I did, however, believe that the film’s reliance on the single joke created a very one-dimensional tone.
Throughout Cops (1922), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.
Realist
The film is shot on location, depicting the bustling streets of Los Angeles near the film studio.
The costume design seen throughout is an accurate representation of the time period, being evocative of the 1920s.
The film was produced during the proceedings of Fatty Arbuckle’s rape-and-murder trial. Being a silent star of the 1910s who brought Keaton into the limelight, it was clear that Keaton certainly had this on his mind as the film developed. Throughout the film, his character never comes out on top (despite his good intentions), police are presented in an extremely negative light, he does not ‘get the girl’ and his death is implied through the end card. This illustrates a sense of hopelessness over the duration of the film.
The opening long take of Keaton behind bars is a static wide shot, allowing the viewer to freely direct their attention between Keaton and Virginia Fox. Keaton is displayed as being ‘locked out’ from the upper class.
Keaton has a brief encounter with a man on the side of the road pretending to be kicked out by his wife, which could be considered a realist scenario.
Keaton uses a long take to display the two characters loading the furniture onto the carriage, utilising deep focus so that the viewer is able to direct their attention between both characters.
Keaton’s insolent behaviour towards the policeman depicted throughout the film is representative of America’s disrespectful attitude towards authority.
‘Gland larceny’ is briefly referenced when Keaton is seen taking his horse to a goat gland specialist. During the year of release, at least three men in America fell victim to testicle theft. Here, Keaton is referencing a real event that audiences would’ve been aware of in a light-hearted manner.
A multitude of long take wide shots display an overwhelming number of policeman, allowing the viewer to be in awe of the intimidating force.
Keaton smokes a cigarette as he rides into the police procession, demonstrating the popularity of tobacco in America.
The seesaw gag is filmed with a long take long shot with deep focus, allowing us to focus on both the seesaw in the foreground and the policemen in the background.
As previously mentioned, the ending of Cops is much darker in tone and, arguably more realist too. Keaton is rejected by Fox and death is implied through the end card.
The titular ‘cops’ are filmed with a static long take
Expressive
The alliterative opening intertitle (“love laughs at locksmiths”) is accompanied by an expressive illustration of Cupid shooting a lock. Houdini’s quote naturally transitions into the opening scene of the film, establishing the premise.
The opening shot of the film is particularly interesting, as Keaton’s clever framing allows the audience to believe that he is physically trapped behind bars, foreshadowing the later events. In reality, Keaton’s character is metaphorically ‘locked out’ from his girlfriends’s family, who represents the upper class.
A brief but hyperbolic slapstick exchange involving a wallet is unrealistic, but creates humour.
A closeup of the man sitting on the curb displays his highly exaggerated, superficial expression. This example of the Kuleshov Effect informs us of his devious intentions.
A fade to black signifies the passage of time, after which the furniture is loaded onto the carriage.
As the vase is unable to fit in the suitcase, Keaton’s clumsiness leads a piece breaking off in order for it to fit. This expertly sets up the next gag of the other vase falling off the carriage, creating a comical punchline.
Keaton uses a boxing glove to serve as a makeshift indicator, as to not be bitten by a dog. This exaggerated mise-en-scène creates absurdist comedy. Keaton proceeds to punch a policeman with the same glove, demonstrating slapstick humour.
An iris closeup of the Goat Gland Specialist sign focuses our attention towards the absurdly comical service.
An intertitle contextualises the ensuing events of the police parade for the viewer.
Parallel editing is incorporated between Keaton on his horse and the police parade, manipulating the viewer into believing that the events are occurring simultaneously .
Keaton continues to use expressive mise-en-scène through the use of the bomb prop which is a highly stereotypical depiction of an explosive. Through a closeup of the bomb, the viewer’s emotions are manipulated as they anticipate the bomb’s explosion.
As the chase between Keaton and the policeman ensues, fast motion is employed by Keaton in order to hyperbolise the situation for comedic effect. His use of elaborate choreography and blocking accentuates the ambitious set piece. The sheer amount of homogenous policemen in once place heightens the effect of the gag.
The pace of editing quickens as the events of the chase become increasingly hectic.
The water that spurts from the fire hydrant is comically vigorous and highly exaggerated.
Keaton is able to contort his body into a small chest effortlessly which heightens the absurdity of the situation.
The elaborate seesaw gag plays with balance, symmetry and framing in order to provide a daring visual spectacle. Keaton proceeds to fly through the air, further reinforcing the absurdity of the situation.
Keaton’s small figure starkly juxtaposes the overwhelming congregation of policemen as he is chased through the streets. Keaton’s athleticism is reinforced as he slides under one of the policemen’s legs.
The final shot of the film depicts a gravestone, unrealistically emblazoned with ‘THE END’. Keaton’s pork pie hat is propped up against it, signifying his apparent death at the end of the film.
Seesaw gag plays with symmetry and balance, but is also filmed with a static wide shot and deep focus
Throughout The High Sign (1921), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.
Realist
The film is shot on location, depicting the populous streets of LA.
The costume design is also authentic, being evocative of the 1920s.
Keaton’s character is kicked off the train – his train-hopping demonstrates a realist issue in society. Paupers snuck onto trains as a mode of transportation in order to seek work in the city.
The merry-go-round seen within the film was a popular attraction during the time period.
The newspaper featured within the film represents the fact that it was the most common form of media during the time period. Furthermore, the advert in the paper is symbolic of nationwide employment across the country.
Keaton’s disrespectful behaviour towards the policeman is demonstrative of America’s negative attitude towards authority. The gag is also shot with a long take using deep focus, so that the viewer is able to freely focus upon the scene as they see fit.
The shooting gallery, a key location within the film, informs us that they were relatively common attractions found throughout the Jazz Age of America.
The primary antagonistic force of the film are the Blinking Buzzards. This comical gang is a representation of the presence of organised crime throughout 1920s America. The planned assassination of August Nickelnurser epitomises the many assassinations carried out which were primarily driven by political gain. This lawless society was established due to many ex-soldiers living a life of violence and corruption after the events of WW1, hyperbolised by the character of Tiny Tim within the film.
Within the films, characters can be seen drinking alcohol from flasks which demonstrates the effects of the Prohibition Era (1920).
A long take wide shot of August and Sybil introducing themselves to Keaton is used, allowing the viewer to freely observe each character.
The butler in August’s house is representative of the divide between social class that existed during the time period.
The four rooms of the funhouse are filmed with a static wide shot. The deep focus allows the viewer to focus upon each of the four rooms separately.
The four rooms filmed with deep focus
Expressive
The opening intertitle details the origins of Keaton’s character with the language “Nowhere, Anywhere, Somewhere”, which evokes a sense of ambiguity.
Keaton falls of the freight train in unrealistic and exaggerated manner.
The comically large newspaper gag is very surrealist and heightens the comedic value of the scene. The ensuing closeup of the paper also introduces us to Tiny Tim.
The banana gag is cartoonish and unrealistic – Keaton use of absurd expression manipulates the viewer’s emotions.
Keaton’s shooting of the bottles is hyperbolically inaccurate, shattering the illusion of reality. Keaton further accentuates the the gag by shooting a seagull out of the sky, which is achieved through the employment of special effects.
Fast motion is utilised as the man runs away to create a sense of cartoonish light-heartedness.
A closeup of the dentist sign allows the viewer to read the ‘Dr Pullem’ sign, an example of a comical pun.
Tiny Tim turns out to be very large, dwarfing Keaton in the frame. This subversion of the viewer’s expectations creates a comical realisation. Tim also wears dark makeup, this example of mise-en-scène foreshadows his antagonistic behaviour revealed later in the film.
An intertitle introduces us to the Blinking Buzzards through the use of absurdly hyperbolic alliteration. (Brutal bungalow of Blinking Buzzards, a bold bad bunch etc.)
Keaton employs parallel editing between his character in the shooting gallery and the Buzzards in their lair, contextualising the simultaneously occurring events to the viewer’s.
The ransom letter delivered to August is displayed with a closeup using vignette. This, alongside appropriate reading time, manipulates the viewer into reading the letter.
The iconic Blinking Buzzard hand sign featured throughout the film endearingly mocks stereotypical gang signs through Keaton’s use of choreography.
Parallel editing is employed between Keaton in the shooting gallery, the dog ringing the bell and Tiny Tim’s reaction as to fully contextualise the gag for the viewer.
Keaton briefly breaks the fourth wall by directly looking at the camera as he realises he has become a double agent, this is a knowing acknowledgement of the audience.
Keaton hangs his hat onto the wall by manifesting a peg by painting one onto the wall. Due to the gag being so surrealist and physically impossible to achieve in reality, comedy is instilled within the viewer. This can also be seen within a similar scene, in which Keaton smokes a pipe that appears to be part of a painted backdrop at the shooting gallery.
A fade to black signifies the passage of time between events.
The prior banana gag makes a reappearance as the policeman attempts to use his gun on Tiny Tim, creating fulfilling humour. As the peel is dropped on the floor, no one slips over it which subverts the viewer’s expectations of a classic cliché.
August’s house is full of elaborate contraptions and secret getaways. Including the likes of revolving wall panels, trapdoors and hidden corridors, this expressive mise-en-scène lends itself to Keaton’s surrealist and abstract comedy.
A classic Keaton chase sequence ensues within the house, demonstrating his daring athleticism and establishing comical slapstick humour.
A shot using vignette plays with the viewer’s perspective, the viewer is able to view both rooms simultaneously in order for the joke to be told most effectively.
One of the gang members’ head becomes stuck in the door, reinforcing the absurdist nature of the film.
The final scene of the film is subversive as the viewer does not know which side Keaton is on until the very last second.
Throughout The Scarecrow (1920), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.
Realist
The costume design used throughout is an accurate representation of 1920s America.
A multitude of commonly-found domestic appliances exist within the house, including: a record player, oven and a mirror.
One of the intertitles remarks upon women getting the vote in 1919, a recently occurring significant historical event at the time of release.
Coin operated gas meters were frequently found within apartment buildings, depicting a realist display of working class living standards.
As Keaton sets the table, a static long shot with deep focus captures the scene, providing an unbiased, objective view of the room. The viewer is able to freely view the frame.
The elaborate dual-function contraptions found within the house reference the illustrations of Rube Goldberg, which were popularised during the timeframe of release.
Both of the main characters are farmers, representing the poverty-stricken society of the time period. The laborious manual labour the characters must endure is juxtaposed by the Rube Goldberg machinery.
Both characters also wish to impress the same girl, demonstrating the patriarchal society of the time period, in addition to the duty held by many to settle down and start a family.
The film is shot on location, depicting a realist rural setting.
The chase sequence is filmed with a static long shot with deep focus, allowing the viewer to ‘cut with their eyes’.
The wild dog that appears within the film were commonly found within the 1920s rural setting depicted throughout the film. In addition, Keaton’s character fears the possibility of the dog being rabid – rabies being a commonly occurring disease within dogs during this time.
The titular scarecrow gag involves a commonly found decoy throughout American farmsteads with alcohol in its pocket. This is perhaps symbolic of the initiation of the Prohibition Era, which came into effect during the year of release (1920).
During the kicking gag, the camera remains static. This allows the viewer to freely focus upon each of the three actors as they see fit.
An unbiased, objective view of the room achieved by using deep focus
Expressive
The opening intertitle establishes the rural setting by illustratively describing the scene (“slowly and majestically the sun steals gradually over the hill-tops”) evoking a sense of romanticised pastoral imagery of the 1920s.
The opening wide shot of the sunrise is shot with fast motion, Keaton’s use of hyperbolic mise-en-scène symbolically illustrates the dawn of a new day.
A number of iris shots are utilised throughout the film, each directing the viewer’s attention towards a particular character or object.
Keaton’s loose tooth is conveyed to the viewer by an exaggerated head bandage, additionally setting up the slapstick door gag. Keaton alternates between wide shots and reactionary closeups as to direct the viewer’s attention towards the punchline of a joke.
The Rube Goldberg-inspired contraptions (including the fence prop) found within the house are extremely hyperbolic and unrealistic. These contraptions are used to create a sequence of surrealist gags, which are reminiscent of vaudeville theatre.
During the meal between Keaton and Roberts, the pair’s movements are highly choreographed in order to heighten the effect of the abstract gag.
The family of ducks bathing in the waste water is a highly unrealistic situation staged by Keaton in order to produce a comedic effect. This is also used to set up a later gag involving Keaton falling in the water in classic slapstick fashion.
An introductory closeup of Sybil’s character immediately focuses the viewer’s attention towards her.
The pace of editing quickens and fast motion is employed as the chase sequence ensues, manipulating the viewer’s emotions.
Roberts miraculously manages to survive the impact of being run over, this unrealistic scenario successfully creates comedy. He is later seen on comically hyperbolic crutches and immediately knocked over again, further accentuating the gag.
The scarecrow gag relies upon the viewer’s manipulated perspective in order to land. We are unable to see Keaton from the front, we therefore do not know he is the scarecrow. As the joke is repeated a second time, the viewer is in on the joke, creating a sense of comedic fulfilment.
Keaton demonstrates his daring athleticism by impressively walking through the river on his hands, juxtaposing Roberts’ comical fall.
The ‘accidental proposal’ is unrealistically successful, heightening the sheer absurdity of the scenario.
The fake horse gag further increases the sense of idiosyncrasy Keaton possesses.
The vicar just so happens to be conveniently standing on the side of the road, this unrealistic scenario further accentuates the expressive nonsensicality of the film.
The final iris shot centralises the viewer’s attention onto Keaton placing the makeshift wedding ring on Sybil’s finger.
The marriage between the two characters is comical due to the extremely unrealistic situation in which they find themselves
Throughout One Week (1920), Buster Keaton employs elements of both realist and expressive styles of filmmaking, in order to create comedy in the most effective means possible.
Realist
The film is shot on location, meaning it is an accurate representation of America in the 1920s.
Throughout the long shot of bride and groom walking down the steps, the camera remains in a static position. The viewer is not manipulated to direct their attention towards anything in particular.
The rice throwing exhibited at the wedding captures a genuine cultural tradition present within 1920s America.
Keaton’s character picks up a pair of shoes off the floor, demonstrating American paupers’ need for second hand items in a poverty-stricken time period.
The costume design is very authentic and is evocative of 1920s America.
During a three shot of Handy Hank, Keaton and Sybil the viewer isn’t encouraged to focus their attention upon a particular character.
During each of Keaton’s stunts, the camera remains in a static position and no closeups are used. The viewer’s attention is not manipulated.
Although Keaton’s stunts themselves are highly expressive, each are performed exactly as you view them by Keaton himself. No editing or special effects are used to accentuate them.
Keaton’s behaviour towards the policeman is representative of the negative attitude and distrust America possessed towards authority figures.
The appearance of a flat pack house as a plot device is a realist depiction of a social issue in America. A lack of affordable housing led to an increase in flat pack housing among those who could not afford pre-existing homes.
A realist presentation of stereotypical gender roles are – Keaton’s character performs the physically laborious task of building the house while Sybil’s character cooks and provides for him.
During the piano gag, a static long take long shot is utilised, which is a more realist manner of filmmaking.
As Keaton climbs the pole, his daring athleticism is demonstrated by a static long take.
The house was constructed on a turntable so that it could really spin during the storm sequence.
The train collision was filmed exactly as it appears to occur, establishing a sense of realism.
During the final shot, the streets of LA are displayed, informing us of the fact that Keaton filmed on location.
Long take with deep focus – the viewer is able to direct their attention towards any of the characters
Expressive
The film opens on a reverse iris shot, adding an initial aesthetic layer to the opening of the film. This expressive flair does not capture objective reality and sets the light-hearted tone present throughout the film.
Intertitles are used throughout the film as to provide the viewer with explicit information, which contextualises the the events occurring in ways that silent action cannot.
A description of the scene is provided by an intertitle (“such a sweet sound but such a sour echo). This expressive alliteration is used to create an evocative setting which the viewer is forced to accept.
A cinema showing of silent films is typically accompanied by a piano/organ, which stylistically informs the viewer of the current emotion of the scene.
Another iris shot is used to display the wedding bell, which manipulates the viewer into directing their attention towards it.
Keaton utilises a crossfade transition between the wedding bell shot and the married couple walking down the church steps. This example of manipulative editing demonstrates the connection between the two shots.
During the long shot of Keaton and Sybil walking down the steps, the two characters are centrally framed. Through this, the viewer’s attention is influenced as to where it will be directed.
The rice is pelted at the couple in an unrealistically comedic manner, Keaton additionally utilises fast motion to accentuate the exaggerated comical effect. Shoes are also thrown to the floor, which is another hyperbolic scenario.
We are introduced to Handy Hank through a closeup with a shallow depth-of-field. Due to this, the viewer’s attention is focused towards him as we view his cartoonishly exaggerated facial expression, depicting anger and jealousy.
The shot of the wedding letter uses a vignette, which focuses our attention in a stylistic manner. The viewer is encouraged to read the letter, as there is nothing else to look at on screen.
Each of Keaton’s stunts are centrally framed hyperbolised performance, which create an exciting set piece for the viewer. These daring acts highlight Keaton’s athleticism and daring bravery. For example, Keaton is conveniently standing in the perfect position for him to not be hit by the house as it falls, which is a reoccurring stunt throughout.
Keaton assaults the policeman, which expressively represents America’s disdain for authority.
Keaton’s use of slapstick humour throughout exaggerates each of the situations in a comedic manner.
Another iris shot isolates the delivery driver within the frame which focuses the viewer’s attention upon him.
As the flat pack house is delivered, it is conveniently positioned in the frame so that the viewer is encouraged to read the writing.
An iris shot closeup of the directions informs the viewer that it will be an important plot point.
The shot of the instructions uses vignette, focusing the viewer’s attention. Additionally, the text is left on screen for an appropriate amount of time in order for the viewer to read it.
The fade to black suggests the passage of time, demonstrating Keaton’s method of conveying information through editing.
The cartoonish gag of Keaton sitting on the beam is purely comedic and does not progress the plot. Cutting from a long shot to a closeup, the slapstick joke is conveyed in the most effective manner.
Parallel editing is utilised to contextualise what both Sybil and Keaton are doing separately (cooking and working on the house).
As Keaton falls from the roof, we cut to a long shot which demonstrates the fact that the camerawork is dictated by the course of the joke.
Each of the sets are examples of unrealistic mise-en-scène and are meticulously constructed in order to display a daring acrobatic gag. The behaviour of both the set and characters are abnormal within a realist scenario.
After the house is built, it is comically lopsided. The mise-en-scène is overly exaggerated in order to convey the fact that Keaton hasn’t built it properly. The abstract, surrealist architecture is also reminiscent of German Expressionism. The mise-en-scène continues to be hyperbolic as Keaton pulls down the light within the house.
Sybil’s character breaks the fourth wall by acknowledging the audience’s presence by directly looking at the camera. To further this, a mysterious hand covers the camera as she reaches out of the bath. This extremely creative form of censorship expressively conveys the scandalous gag.
The piano is comically light for one person and comically heavy for another.
A couple of iris shots are used to focus our attention, first towards Sybil and secondly to accentuate the gag involving the piano falling through the floor.
Each joke is told in a very episodic manner, the introduction of a new room typically signifies the beginning of a new joke.
The camera is positioned in the most effective place as to make the gag as successfully comedic as possible. For example, we cut to an exterior shot as Keaton opens the door to the house.
An absurdly comedic amount of people attempt to occupy a small table.
An iris shot focuses our attention upon Keaton holding an umbrella.
The spinning house gag is extremely surreal and this elaborate set allows Keaton to perform a multitude of daring stunts.
The pace of editing quickens as the pandemonium heightens, manipulating the viewer’s emotions during the sequence.
The action briskly pauses in order to tell a joke with an intertitle, briefly jarring the viewer.
The house set is altered after the storm in order to expressively demonstrate the severe damage it has taken over the course of the storm.
Parallel editing is used in order to inform the viewer of the train’s imminent arrival.
In order for the train gag to be successful, it relies on the viewer’s warped perspective. The camera is placed in a particular spot as to manipulate what the viewer can see. We are also denied seeing the approach of the second train for comedic effect.
André Bazin (1918-1958) was a French film critic and theorist, known for writing in the film magazine ‘Cahiers du cinéma’ (Notebooks on Cinema) from 1951 until his death in 1958. Afterwards, a four volume anthology entitled ‘Qu’est-ce que le cinéma?’ (What is Cinema?) was published posthumously, a work that exhibited his theories of realist and expressive cinema. At its core, his main argument stated that realism is the most important function of cinema. He argued that filmmakers should not manipulate the viewer’s thoughts, feelings or attention but instead leave it up to the individual spectator’s interpretation. Opposing the film theory of the 1920s, Bazin called for objective reality, deep focus and a lack of montage to be conducted throughout filmmaking.
André Bazin
Bazin viewed cinema as an “idealistic phenomenon” first and foremost, sidelining its commercial and technical value. Categorising the early pioneers of film – such as the Lumiere brothers – as merely “industrialists”, he strongly believed that the idea preceded the invention and is thus superior to the technical means to achieve it. Bazin believed that a camera’s ability to capture a duplication of reality placed cinema above both paintings and photos as art forms.
Through this, Bazin believed that cinema’s true purpose was to depict an ‘objective reality’. Utilising the techniques mentioned above, alongside a ‘true continuity’ through the use of mise-en-scène, cinema’s true potential was achieved in Bazin’s eyes. However, Bazin also remarked upon the fact that, as with any art form, the filmmaker should carefully select what they display to the viewer. He did not simply believe that films should display a never-ending, uninterrupted depiction of reality,
“Every form of aesthetic must necessarily choose between what is worth preserving and what should be discarded, and what should not even be considered”
André Bazin, What is Cinema?
Another important idea found within Bazin’s writing is his theory of the ‘invisible director’. Despite believing cinema to be a fully realist art form, Bazin additionally heralded the concept of the auteur – championing the idea that each director should possess a recognisable visual flair within their films. This seemingly contradictory belief can be rebuked by Bazin’s statement on direction found below. Through this, the viewer is able to engage with a particular auteur’s vision in their own individual way, rather than having a specific meaning forced upon them.
“It is the director that brings the film to life and uses the film to express their thoughts and feelings about the subject matter as well as a worldview as an auteur. An auteur can use lighting, camerawork, staging and editing to add to their vision.”
How far does your chosen documentary demonstrate elements of one or more filmmaker’s theories you have studied?
Autumn 2020
Essay plan
Introduction: Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, has argued that all films fall into one of two categories of documentary – being wish fulfilment and social representation. The latter of which can be further categorised into one of Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary, including: expository, observational, participatory, performative, poetic and reflexive.
Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes and can be easily argued to be categorised under more than one. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which can be classified in particular as an observational or participatory documentary. These filmmakers such as the aforementioned Peter Watkins, as well as those such as Michael Moore and Nick Brookfield, are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Therefore, their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed, preconceived system created by a single person.
Section 1: Introduce Kim Longinotto and her style. Reference her ideologies and theories.
Observational, Cinema verite, “would like to watch herself”, “feels very uncomfortable asking people to do things”, panning over cuts, Aaton Super-16 camera over digital technology (acts as the cinematographer and camera operator).
Section 2: Introduce Sisters in Law.
Handheld, long-takes, opening score is the only non-diegetic sound, temporal editing, tilts, subtitles, editing compresses events, zooming (Vera and Manka), priorities authenticity over aesthetics, two shots separates the law, reactionary shots, domestic life separations, over-the-shoulder (Amina), gender inequality (observational documentary is successful), playing up to the camera (aunt and council)
Conclusion
Essay – Version 1
Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Bill Nichols, a documentary theorist, has argued that all films fall into one of two categories of documentary: wish fulfilment and social representation. The latter of which can be further categorised into one of Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary, including: expository, observational, participatory, performative, poetic and reflexive.
Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes and can be easily argued to be categorised under more than one. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which can be classified in particular as an observational or participatory documentary. These filmmakers such as the aforementioned Peter Watkins, as well as those such as Michael Moore and Nick Broomfield, are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Therefore, their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed, preconceived system created by a single person.
Despite this, a number of documentarians’ work can indeed be categorised under a single mode of documentary, one example being Kim Longinotto. Known for making observational documentaries that spread awareness of discriminatory oppression towards women, Longinotto has stated that “real life is often more surprising and extraordinary than we can imagine”. Incoporating the cinéma vérité style of filmmaking into her films, Longinotto attempts to create films that she “would like to watch” herself. Her films are characterised by an authentic, uninterrupted portrayal of events which supports her ideology of believing that films should not explicitly state what the viewer should think and feel over the course of the film. This juxtaposes the styles of documentarians such as Michael Moore, who establishes an extremely noticeable and cynical presence throughout each of his films.
Throughout her films, Longinotto prefers to pan the camera rather than use cuts when a new person begins to talk. This places the viewer within the “eyes” of the camera and establishes a much more authentic and apparent perspective. Although she can never be seen in her documentaries, Longinotto acts as the cinematographer and camera operator for each of her films. Because of this, she shoots each of her films with an Aaton Super-16 model stating that she “loves the steadiness” of it. Often employing only one other co-director, it is important for her to film with a camera that she is extremely familiar and comfortable with.
One film that best demonstrates the filmmaking theories of Kim Longinotto is Sisters in Law (2005). Throughout the film, Longinotto employs the key elements of film form in a wide variety of ways in order to produce an unobtrusive and authentic observational documentary.
Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of her aforementioned Aaton Super-16 handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. This can initially be seen in the opening shot of the film – a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape of Kumba, Cameroon. The use of a handheld camera without a tripod is perhaps used due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. In theory, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine because of this, demonstrating Longinotto’s theory of authenticity. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. After the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambience of Kumba enters.
From this point forward, every sound in the mix is both diegetic and recorded on set. Alongside this, the lighting is all naturally captured and is merely a reflection of reality. All of the mise-en-scène found within each scene is naturally occurring in order to display an entirely authentic depiction of the scenarios. Alongside this, no contextual information is explicitly stated to the viewer – supporting Longinotto’s aforementioned statement about implicit information. After an apt use of temporal editing to demonstrate the journey into the village, Longinotto employs her first of many uses of camera panning. Acting as the proxy for the viewer, the pan exhibits the view of the rural setting. Alongside this, panning is used to focus on each subject as they begin to talk, replicating the notion of eyes following a conversation.
Within the village, Longinotto utilises a number of spontaneous camera movements – tracking subjects by tilting the camera up and down. Scenes are mostly captured with a two camera setup, operated by Longinotto herself, as well as co-director Florence Ayisi. Thus, each scenario can be captured by two opposing angles and cut together by Longinotto in post-production. During a court meeting between Vera Ngassa (the state prosecutor) and a couple, Longinotto employs the zoom feature in real time to focus in on a closeup of Vera. Due to autofocus taking effect, the footage briefly goes out of focus before refocusing on the closeup. This demonstrates to us Longinotto’s ideological priority of accuracy and authenticity over aesthetic perfection.
Each legal case is interspersed with brief, ambient scenes which display domestic life within the village. Throughout these, Longinotto will typically film in a single location and capture each and every event that occurs, even seemingly trivial scenarios. In effect, this implicitly contextualises the setting and cultural characteristics of the Cameroonian village of Kumba. This demonstrates her theory of capturing “real life” throughout her unassuming style of filmmaking.
Zooms are often used throughout the film, another example being during the Manka Sequence in which Longinotto zooms in on a young girl’s wounds. Through this, a high-angle closeup is created which exhibits the scars and wounds she possesses. This subtle example of camera manipulation instills empathy within the viewer and reinforces Manka’s vulnerability. Longinotto also separates the two sides of the law by cutting between a three-shot of Stephen, Manka and the aunt, and a mid-closeup of Vera which is captured by the second camera. This apt use of editing is noticeable to the viewer, but unobtrusive to the portrayal of events. During the confrontation, the camera also occasionally focuses on the reaction of the subject being spoken to, rather than the person speaking. Through this reactionary shot equivalent, the viewer is able to soak in each of the subject’s live reactions to the events that occur. During the aunt’s panic-stricken rebuttal, Longinotto utilises a closeup on her face. Through this, it becomes clear to the viewer that the aunt is playing up to the camera. Her exaggerated crocodile tears and frantic justifications purports a sense of vulnerability, but the viewer is likely able to see through this due to Longinotto’s intelligent camerawork.
This instance of the camera having a direct impact on events can also be seen within the Divorce Sequence. After the divorce is granted to Amina by the council who almost exiled her from the country, the man now noticeably plays up to the camera, stating that “that’s what Cameroon wants! We don’t want problems”. Vera’s prior empowerment over the abusive aunt juxtaposed with the oppression faced by Amina within this sequence epitomises the different roles in society held by women that Longinotto endeavours to bring to light.
In conclusion, Kim Longinotto’s filmmaking theories, employed throughout Sisters in Law, can be characterised at its core, by her proactive avoidance of intervention which is typically found throughout other documentaries. For example, if Nick Broomfield or Louis Theroux had made this film, their respective strong characters would be felt across the duration of the film. In the case of Longinotto, Sisters in Law’s approach allows for a much more subtle and thoughtful viewing experience, in which the viewer is able to draw their own conclusions through Longinotto’s implicit manner of filmmaking.
Essay – Version 2
Defined as a film that uses pictures or interviews with people involved in real events to provide a factual report on a particular subject, it can be difficult to pinpoint what a documentary exactly is. Documentary theorist Bill Nichols’ six ‘modes’ of documentary can be used to categorise each and every documentary under a particular division.
Even still, the vast majority of documentaries blur the line between modes. A clear example of this is The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1965) which could be classified under more than one mode. This is because Watkins and other documentarians such as Michael Moore and Nick Broomfield are attempting to create a wholly unique and intriguing documentary. Their aims involve preventing their films from being categorised under a flawed and narrow-minded system.
Despite this, a number of documentarians’ work can indeed be categorised under a single mode of documentary, one example being Kim Longinotto. Known for making observational documentaries that spread awareness of discriminatory oppression towards women, Longinotto has stated that “real life is often more surprising and extraordinary than we can imagine”. Incoporating the cinéma vérité style of filmmaking into her films, Longinotto attempts to create films that she “would like to watch” herself. Her films are characterised by an uninterrupted portrayal of events which supports her ideology of believing that films should not explicitly state what the viewer should think and feel.
Throughout her films, Longinotto prefers to pan the camera rather than use cuts when a new person begins to talk. This places the viewer within the “eyes” of the camera and establishes a much more authentic and apparent perspective. Although she can never be seen in her documentaries, Longinotto acts as the cinematographer and camera operator for each of her films – often employing another co-director.
One film that best demonstrates the filmmaking theories of Kim Longinotto is Sisters in Law (2005). Throughout the film, Longinotto employs the key elements of film form in a wide variety of ways in order to produce an unobtrusive and authentic observational documentary.
Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of a handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. This can initially be seen in the opening shot of the film – a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape of Kumba, Cameroon. The use of a handheld camera without a tripod is perhaps used due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. In theory, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine because of this, demonstrating Longinotto’s theory of authenticity. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. After the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambience of Kumba enters.
From this point forward, every sound in the mix is both diegetic and recorded on set. Alongside this, the lighting is all naturally captured and is merely a reflection of reality. All of the mise-en-scène found within each scene is naturally occurring in order to display an entirely authentic depiction of the scenarios. Alongside this, no contextual information is explicitly stated to the viewer – supporting Longinotto’s aforementioned statement about implicit information. After an apt use of temporal editing to demonstrate the journey into the village, Longinotto employs her first of many uses of camera panning. Acting as the proxy for the viewer, the pan exhibits the view of the rural setting. Alongside this, panning is used to focus on each subject as they begin to talk, replicating the notion of eyes following a conversation.
Within the village, Longinotto utilises a number of spontaneous camera movements – tracking subjects by tilting the camera up and down. Scenes are mostly captured with a two camera setup, operated by Longinotto herself, as well as co-director Florence Ayisi. Thus, each scenario can be captured by two opposing angles and cut together by Longinotto in post-production. During a court meeting between Vera Ngassa (the state prosecutor) and a couple, Longinotto employs the zoom feature in real time to focus in on a closeup of Vera. Due to autofocus taking effect, the footage briefly goes out of focus before refocusing on the closeup. This demonstrates to us Longinotto’s ideological priority of accuracy and authenticity over aesthetic perfection.
Each legal case is interspersed with brief, ambient scenes which display domestic life within the village. Throughout these, Longinotto will typically film in a single location and capture each and every event that occurs, even seemingly trivial scenarios. In effect, this implicitly contextualises the setting and cultural characteristics of the Cameroonian village of Kumba. This demonstrates her theory of capturing “real life” throughout her unassuming style of filmmaking.
Zooms are often used throughout the film, another example being during the Manka Sequence in which Longinotto zooms in on a young girl’s wounds. Through this, a high-angle closeup is created which exhibits the scars and wounds she possesses. This subtle example of camera manipulation instills empathy within the viewer and reinforces Manka’s vulnerability. Longinotto also separates the two sides of the law by cutting between a three-shot of Stephen, Manka and the aunt, and a mid-closeup of Vera which is captured by the second camera. This apt use of editing is noticeable to the viewer, but unobtrusive to the portrayal of events. During the confrontation, the camera also occasionally focuses on the reaction of the subject being spoken to, rather than the person speaking. Through this reactionary shot equivalent, the viewer is able to soak in each of the subject’s live reactions to the events that occur. During the aunt’s panic-stricken rebuttal, Longinotto utilises a closeup on her face. Through this, it becomes clear to the viewer that the aunt is playing up to the camera. Her exaggerated crocodile tears and frantic justifications purports a sense of vulnerability, but the viewer is likely able to see through this due to Longinotto’s intelligent camerawork.
This instance of the camera having a direct impact on events can also be seen within the Divorce Sequence. After the divorce is granted to Amina by the council who almost exiled her from the country, the man now noticeably plays up to the camera, stating that “that’s what Cameroon wants! We don’t want problems”. Vera’s prior empowerment over the abusive aunt juxtaposed with the oppression faced by Amina within this sequence epitomises the different roles in society held by women that Longinotto endeavours to bring to light.
In conclusion, Kim Longinotto’s filmmaking theories, employed throughout Sisters in Law, can be characterised at its core, by her proactive avoidance of intervention which is typically found throughout other documentaries. For example, if Nick Broomfield or Louis Theroux had made this film, their respective strong characters would be felt across the duration of the film. In the case of Longinotto, Sisters in Law’s approach allows for a much more subtle and thoughtful viewing experience, in which the viewer is able to draw their own conclusions through Longinotto’s implicit manner of filmmaking.
Throughout the opening sequence of Sisters in Law, Kim Longinotto employs the key elements of film form in a wide variety of ways in order to produce an unobtrusive observational documentary.
Firstly, Longinotto employs the use of a portable handheld camera throughout the duration of the film. The sequence opens with a wide shot out of a car window that exhibits the rural, poverty-stricken landscape. It could be argued that Longinotto has chosen to use a smaller, more portable camera due to the fact that it is less conspicuous than a tripod. Therefore, the subjects’ actions portrayed throughout the documentary will be more genuine in theory. The vistas are lush and the weather is overcast – perhaps challenging the viewer’s preconceived notions of West Africa. Throughout this long take, a non-diegetic score is present in the mix – a plucked acoustic guitar that evokes a sense of pastoral imagery. As the score gradually lowers in the mix, the diegetic ambient street noise of Kumba enters. From this point forward, every sound in the mix is both diegetic and recorded on set. Alongside this, the lighting is all naturally captured and is merely a reflection of reality. All of the mise-en-scène found within each scene is naturally occurring in order to display an entirely authentic depiction of the scenarios. It is also important to make note of the fact that no contextual information is explicitly stated to the viewer.
As Longinotto travels further into the village, it becomes clear that an example of temporal editing is implemented. Longinotto’s use of hard cuts exhibit the passing of time as the village becomes ever closer. As she reaches her destination, Longinotto employs her first of many uses of camera panning – a typically unorthodox technique within filmmaking. In the case of Sisters in Law, panning is used in order to recreate the feeling of a head turning to take in its surroundings. Through this, the camera acts as the proxy for the viewer over the course of the film.
Within the village, Longinotto captures the actions of the documentary subjects in a variety of ways. She utilises a number of spontaneous camera movements – tracking people’s movements by tilting up and down. Alongside this, when a person starts speaking, Longinotto will usually pan the camera in order to focus upon them, reminiscent of eyes following a conversation. Scenes are mostly captured with a two camera setup, operated by Kim Longinotto herself, as well as co-director Florence Ayisi. Through this, each situation can be aptly captured by two opposite angles – Longinotto later cutting between the footage appropriately.
The residents of Kumba mostly speak in a form of Pidgin English. This involves the use of fragmented English phrases which are interspersed with a multitude of African tongues. Due to this, almost all of the events portrayed are accompanied by English subtitles. As we are introduced to Vera Ngassa, the state prosecutor, a subtle title card displays her name – a rare example of explicit information provided to the viewer. The conversation between the prosecutor and the couple ensues, during which Longinotto employs the zoom feature in real time to focus in on a closeup of Vera. Due to autofocus taking effect, the footage briefly goes out of focus before refocusing on the closeup. This demonstrates to us Longinotto’s priority of accuracy and authenticity over aesthetic perfection in the case of this film.
Throughout the sequence, editing is visible and present – but unobtrusive. Used in order to break up the frequent long takes which exhibit the passing of time, Longinotto’s use of editing acts as a compression of events rather than a manipulation. It is clear to see that in the example of this case, the woman reporting her abusive relationship is acting genuinely. She takes no notice of the camera’s presence and her sincere demeanour illustrates that she is exclusively concerned with her serious legal matter. In addition to this, Vera Ngassa’s disposition is strict, impartial and austere. This aids Longinotto’s aim of presenting female strength and empowerment within an oppressed and poverty-stricken environment. Finally, it is important to make note of the fact that each legal case is interspersed with brief, ambient scenes which display domestic life within the village. Throughout these, Longinotto will typically film in a single location and capture each and every event that occurs, even seemingly trivial scenarios. In effect, this contextualises the setting and cultural characteristics of the Cameroonian village of Kumba.
There are a wide variety of differences between a typical ‘fiction film’ and a feature length documentary film. In the table below, I have listed the main discrepancies between the two types of film, centering around a key aspect of filmmaking in each point.
Fiction Films
Mise-en-scène (locations, props, costumes, etc) can be real (shot on location) or “faked” in a studio.
Characters’ dialogue and actions are pre-conceptualised by a screenwriter and usually played by an actor.
Professional equipment is used throughout (such as dollies, rigs, Steadicam etc.) to fully immerse the viewer within the fictional world of the film. The equipment is invisible to the viewer.
The filmmaker typically has an ambitious creative vision for what their film will entail, often disregarding a sense of reality. They are behind-the-scenes and invisible to the viewer.
The narrative’s structure, dialogue and events are preconceived and conceptualised in a fictional manner.
Often attempt to attract the largest possible audience. The viewer accepts the artificial and fictitious nature.
Typically has a larger budget, due to the requirement for more expensive equipment.
Documentary Films
Mise-en-scène is found in real life.
Documentary films do not contain characters, only real people and events are portrayed throughout – the dialogue appears to be genuine.
Bare minimum equipment (handheld camera, tripod etc.) is typically used to create a sense of authenticity.
The filmmaker attempts to capture the most accurate reality possible in a documentary, often displaying the crew behind the scenes. The filmmaker often appears in the documentary, sometimes even being the focus.
The narrative events unfold in real time, the filmmakers often do not plan the documentary in advance.
Often attract a niche audience, the viewer expects truthfulness and transparency.
Typically has a smaller budget, as expensive equipment is not needed.
How far do each of the films you have studied represent key characters in ways that reinforce or challenge the audience’s expectations?
Autumn 2020
Essay plan
Introduction:
Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, catharsis and vengeance.
Throughout the “Wedding Sequence” of the film, characters such as Romina and Ariel are represented in ways that reinforce stereotypical gender roles. As well as this, characters are used to represent the underlying theme of superficiality that is reinforced throughout the tale. In order to do this, Szifron implements the key elements of film form in a variety of ways to reinforce the characters in ways that both challenge and reinforce the viewer’s expectations.
Cinematography:
Young Romina (frame within frame), various two-shots and long shots of well-dressed guests,
Single shot tracks couple, centrally framed Romina, photo frame, pushes into Romina’s changing expression, zoom in on Lourdes, Romina isolated in frame (harsh lighting), mirror shot
Focus pulls, centrally framed imposing shot
Tight focus on couple, shallow depth of field, shot/reverse shots (unsynchronised), Dutch angle
POV shot of distraught guests, unflattering low-angle, handheld camera, birds-eye-view
Low-angle of Romina (upper hand), wide shot of chef, handheld camera displays unhinged guests, two-shots create desperation
Sound:
Titanium
Ringing phone, dialogue, breathing
Blue Danube juxtaposes Romina’s state of mind, rises as they touch hands
Lighting and wind (pathetic fallacy),
Dramatic score, exclusive diegetic sound later on, gunshot tease
Mise-en-scène:
Red curtain, stereotypical bride and groom outfit, immaculate hair, scruffy Ariel
Lourdes’ dress, Romina disheveled appearance
Green lighting, pathetic fallacy
Romina at most disheveled, blood on dress
Hollow motions, removal of hair extension
Editing:
Parallel editing (couple face opposite directions)
Longer focus on Romina
Shot/reverse shot between Romina and chef, glance object, alternating edit, cross cutting
Performance:
Superficial happiness, over-zealousness foreshadows infidelity, artificial friendly gestures between guests
Women scream, men act boisterously, Ariel looks at camera
Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, catharsis and vengeance.
Throughout the “Wedding Sequence” of the film, characters such as Romina and Ariel are represented in ways that reinforce stereotypical gender roles. As well as this, characters are used to represent the underlying theme of superficiality that is reinforced throughout the tale. In order to do this, Szifron implements the key elements of film form in a variety of ways to reinforce the characters in ways that both challenge and reinforce the viewer’s expectations.
The sequence begins with a projected closeup of a young Romina, creating a centrally positioned frame within a frame. This establishes Romina as the central protagonist and subtly focuses the viewer‘s attention onto her throughout the duration of the tale. Afterwards, we cut to a two shot of a wealthy couple at a table, displaying the light-heartedness of the event and reinforcing the viewer’s expectations of an opulent wedding. The diegetic compiled score, Titanium, further lightens the mood and pulsates throughout the reception. Being representative of strength and overcoming hardships, the carefully selected song choice ironically foreshadows Romina’s unpredictable actions. This ultimately challenges the viewer’s preconceived expectations of a grand wedding.
Romina and Ariel enter the reception through theatrical red curtain, which subtly suggests to the viewer that their relationship is merely a façade – challenging their expectations. Romina’s current purity is represented by a stereotypical white wedding dress and immaculate, whereas Ariel’s uncaring demeanour is represented through his scruffy, unshaven appearance. This perhaps reinforces the viewer’s expectations of a wedding being a ‘more feminine’ event.
As a single tracking shot follows the couple backwards, Romina is centrally framed which reinforces her as the protagonist. During this, the couple put on an extremely over-zealous façade by smiling and waving at each of the affluent guests they pass by. This suggests and foreshadows the couple’s infidelity towards each other, challenging the viewer’s expectations. As the two separate to join their respective friends and families, an example of parallel editing is implemented, reinforcing their distant relationship. To further accentuate this, the couple face opposing directions between the parallel edits. During the dance floor scene, the guests conform to stereotypical gender roles. The groups of women scream while the men act boisterously, which reinforces the viewer’s expectations of male and female stereotypes. As we see the setting from the camera’s perspective, Ariel looks directly at the camera which emphasises his artificial demeanour.
We then cut to a wide shot of the guests framed like a photo, during which each of the guests smile ostensibly – suggesting that no one truly wishes to attend. Alongside this, Romina also fakes a smile as she converses with one of the guests, clearly demonstrating her disinterest towards the conversation. The topic of Facebook is often mentioned throughout the conversation, reinforcing the superficiality the wedding represents.
As Romina begins to notice someone in the reception that she doesn’t know, the camera pushes into Romina’s changing expression to display her confusion. In response to this, the camera proceeds to zoom into the unknown woman as Ariel leans over to flirtatiously converse with Lourdes – foreshadowing their secret relationship. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo, attributing a sense of elegance and mystery to her character. As Romina’s heavy breathing rises in the mix, she briefly assesses herself in the mirror. This suggests to the viewer that Romina is questioning her own identity. After she learns the truth, Romina resorts to alcohol as a coping mechanism to recover from her distraught state of mind. This challenges the viewer’s expectations of what typically occurs at a wedding and raises the tension of the scene.
As Ariel and Romina begin to dance, the camera remains tightly focused on the couple in order to keep the viewer’s attention focused exclusively on the couple. The depth of field is extremely shallow to reinforce this. A sequence of shot/reverse shots occur as one person reacts to what the other is saying, informing the viewer of their respective state of minds. We also spend a longer amount of time focused on Romina, positioning the viewer to empathise with the protagonist to a higher degree. The implementation of a typically romantic complied score, The Blue Danube, ironically juxtaposes Romina’s chaotic state of mind, rising in the mix as the couple touches hands. After the heated conversation concludes, a Dutch angle is used to display Romina angrily storming off – signifying that her world is falling apart. In response to this, Ariel’s eyes dart around the room which implies that he is still attempting to maintain his reputable persona – challenging the viewer’s prior expectation of him as an uncaring groom.
Following this, there is a POV shot from Ariel’s perspective which displays an array of distraught guests, demonstrating their unfiltered emotions. As Romina heads for the roof, an unflattering low-angle shot of Romina tracks her unpredictable movements, exemplifying her anxiety. Her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined, reinforcing her raw emotions. A handheld camera is also used to illustrate Ariel’s distress as he pursues her.
As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. The pace of editing proceeds to slow to a halt as the chef offers his advice to Romina, incorporating a shot/reverse shot sequence between the pair. Ariel continues to run up the stairs to pursue Romina, during which the walls are illuminated with green lighting which is representative of the characters’ jealousy towards one another. During the confrontation, the narrative device of pathetic fallacy is utilised, incorporating thunder and lightning into the setting which is reflective of Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel. Romina’s unhinged anger is further accentuated by an edit that alternates between an over-the-shoulder shot which displays Romina’s full figure, a three-quarter closeup of Romina as well as a reactionary shot of Ariel.
Afterwards, a low-angle shot of Romina displays her striding into the ballroom as a dramatic score emphatically enters the mix, informing the viewer that she has gained the upper hand. She remains artificially calm in order to maintain her façade of perfection. Alongside this, a wide shot demonstrates the chef’s humiliation as word of the rooftop events begin to spread. Here, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged and the blood on her dress symbolises that her prior purity is eradicated. The removal of her hair extension represents her final stage of degeneration, challenging the viewer’s initial expectation of her. Finally, the sound becomes exclusively diegetic to underpin the sincerity of Ariel’s consoling words towards Romina. He speaks transparently and genuinely, indicating to the viewer that his persona of perfection has finally been abolished.
In conclusion, Damián Szifron aptly utilises the key elements of film form throughout the wedding sequence in order to represent the characters in ways that both challenge and reinforce the viewer’s preconceived expectations. These include the presentation of stereotypical gender roles as well as the exposure of the superficial façades the characters possess.
Discuss how aesthetics are used to communicate themes in your two chosen films. Make detailed reference to particular sequences in your answer.
Summer 2019
Essay plan
Introduction:
Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, catharsis and vengeance. The aesthetic of my chosen sequence, The Wedding, is one of opulence and superficiality. Szifron illustrates this to the viewer through a wide variety of techniques, aptly incorporating the key elements of film form to communicate the aforementioned themes.
Sequence: Wedding Sequence
Cinematography:
Various shots of guests (two-shot, crabbing), long shot displays chandeliers, handheld camera, theatrical entryway
Enacting motions of wedding, removal of hair extension
Editing:
Slideshow cut to beat, parallel editing (opposing directions)
Pace of editing quickens, fake camera interface, lower quality stock
Jump cuts, door matches end of score, parallel editing
Slow pace during roof scene, glance object on shoe, alternating edit during anger, cross cutting
Essay – Version 1
Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, 2014) is an Argentinian comedy/drama of the portmanteau genre. The film contains six short ‘tales’ which are all connected by the thematic concepts of revenge, superficiality and danger. The aesthetic of my chosen sequence, The Wedding, is one of opulence and artifice. Szifron illustrates this to the viewer through a wide variety of techniques, aptly incorporating the key elements of film form to communicate the aforementioned themes.
The opening shot of the sequence displays a projected closeup image of Romina with a red background, signifying the later danger and peril of the wedding. The diegetic compiled score (Titanium) lightens the mood of the wedding and persistently pulsates throughout the reception, matching the speed of the slideshow. The song is representative of strength and overcoming hardships, ironically foreshadowing the later cathartic events of the wedding. The pace of editing quickens as the excitement builds towards the chorus of the song, with the frequency of cuts increasing. The camera then cuts to various two shots and crab shots of a multitude of wealthy guests enjoying themselves, reinforcing the opulent atmosphere the wedding presents to the viewer.
Throughout this, a wide variety of luxurious objects can be seen in the frame. These include flashing lights, smoke machines as well as an array of disco balls and golden chandeliers – all of which purport a sense of superficiality. The bride and groom enter the reception from behind a theatrical red curtain, suggesting that their relationship is merely a façade which reinforces the underlying theme of artificiality. Romina sports a stereotypically designed white wedding dress and veil, symbolising her current purity. Her hair is is also meticulously immaculate – both of these physical aspects become increasingly unkempt as the intensity of the situation increases. Conversely, Ariel’s appearance is relatively scruffy – he is unshaven on his wedding day, implying to the viewer that the wedding is unimportant to him.
A single tracking shot is used to follow the movements of the couple backwards, establishing them as the centre of the viewer’s attention. In addition to this, the camera begins to joyfully glide as the couple begins to dance, keeping Romina centrally framed and reinforcing the luxurious aesthetic of the wedding. Titanium is then interrupted by a live ensemble playing traditional, upbeat music in order to appropriately accompany the energetic atmosphere of the reception. The use of a multitude of cameras to focus on closeups of the instruments emphasises the superficially jovial atmosphere of the wedding. To further reinforce this, a fake camera interface is placed over the screen in tandem with a lower quality film stock in order to purport a sense of authenticity.
As Romina notices a unknown woman within the reception, the camera proceeds to zoom into Lourdes, the mysterious woman. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo – this distinctively elegant appearance hints to the viewer that she holds a great deal of importance to the story. Romina then becomes isolated in the frame as the lighting is harshly distributed upon her, reflecting her uncertain state of mind. To further reinforce this, the camera proceeds to track Romina, coming to rest on a mirror shot which implies a sense of self-questioning. After a variety of aptly implemented focus pulls, Szifron cuts back to a low-angle shot of a centrally-framed Romina which portrays her as extremely imposing.
As the newly wed couple begins to dance, the diegetic compiled score, The Blue Danube, enters the mix. The piece is reminiscent of a traditional wedding atmosphere but is also present in the likes of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, instilling an ominous feeling within the viewer. As the couple touches hands, the dynamics of the score increase to heighten the tension of the situation. Afterwards, a disorienting Dutch angle displays Romina runs away from the reception during which her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined which reinforces the chaotic havoc of the wedding.
As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. A shallow depth of field is implemented during this scene to draw the viewer’s focus onto Romina alone. As the conversation between the chef and Romina ensues, a long shot is used to allow the chef to deliver his advice which slows the pace of the edit to a halt. There is also stark juxtaposition between the typical romantic aesthetic of the setting and the hectic events taking place.
As Ariel runs up the stairs to pursue Romina, the walls are illuminated with green lighting which symbolises the theme jealousy and betrayal presented throughout the sequence. In addition to this, Szifron utilises the narrative device of pathetic fallacy during the rooftop scene, incorporating thunder and lighting into the setting which reflects Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel.
As we re-enter the ballroom, the camera movements become increasingly shaky to emphasise the chaotic atmosphere. The lighting is also extremely harsh which juxtaposes the previously established opulence of the reception. Alongside this, a multitude of Dutch angle tracking shots are implemented to illustrate the discombobulating chaos that is occurring. Romina then grabs Lourdes and the two begin to rapidly spin in circles. To convey the dizziness to the viewer, a camera rig is attached to the pair’s backs which is reflective of the tumultuous mood of the wedding.
As Romina throws Lourdes into the mirror, the appearance of smashed mirror heightens the utter pandemonium of the wedding. At this point, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged which reinforces that this is the peak of turmoil. The removal of Romina’s hair extension represents her final stage of degeneration, encapsulating the themes of revenge and danger. Blood on her dress symbolises that Romina’s prior purity is abolished. Through this, the initial opulent atmosphere of the wedding is starkly contrasted.
In conclusion, Damián Szifron aptly utilises the key elements of film form throughout the wedding sequence of Wild Tales in order to create an opulent and superficial aesthetic. Through this, the underlying themes of revenge, betrayal and danger are astutely communicated to the viewer and an appropriately memorable experience is created.
We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “Wedding sequence” of Wild Tales (01:25:10-end). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.
Cinematography
The tale begins with a projected closeup image of a young Romina, establishing a centrally positioned frame within a frame. The camera then pulls out to reveal a slideshow of images being played in a luxurious wedding reception. Afterwards, we cut to a two shot of a couple at a table, displaying the light-heartedness of the event. The camera then crabs right in order to display a multitude of well-dressed guests which reinforces the opulence of the wedding reception.
A proceeding long shot displays the vast room, exhibiting the luxuriant chandeliers and other grandiose decor. We proceed to cut to various shots of the many guests enjoying themselves. As we cut to a long shot of the DJ, a handheld camera is employed in order to fluidly arc through the smoke to reposition the frame. Through this, the viewer is brought in closer to a newly-created theatrical entryway for the couple to arrive through.
A single shot is used to track the movements of the couple backwards, establishing them as the centre of attention. In addition to this, the camera begins to joyfully glide as the couple begins to dance. Throughout this, Romina is centrally framed which reinforces her as the protagonist of this tale. During the dance sequence, there are closeups of the instruments such as the tuba to emphasises the jovial atmosphere of the wedding. Alongside this, the use of multiple cameras emphasises the artificiality of the event. After an abrupt jump cut, the next shot of the guests is framed like a photo to reinforce the superficiality of the wedding.
As Romina begins to notice someone in the reception that she doesn’t know, the camera pushes into Romina’s changing expression to display her confusion. In response to this, the camera proceeds to zoom in to the unknown woman. This uncommon technique is aptly utilised in order to divert the viewer’s attention towards her. Romina then becomes isolated in frame as the lighting is harshly distributed upon her, which is reflective of her uncertain state of mind. To further reinforce this, the camera then follows Romina and comes to rest on a mirror shot which implies that she is questioning her own identity.
Szifron then implements two focus pulls from Romina to the young woman (Lourdes) as she answers her phone, which appropriately focuses the viewer’s attention. The camera then arcs into an over-the-shoulder shot in order to face Lourdes. Through this, another pair of focus pulls are employed to display Lourdes answering her phone for the second time from both perspectives. We then cut back to a low-angle shot of a centrally-framed Romina which portrays her as imposing.
As Ariel and Romina begin to dance, the camera remains tightly focused on the couple in order to keep the viewer’s attention focused exclusively on the couple. The depth of field is extremely shallow to reinforce this. A sequence of shot/reverse shots occur as the couple converse, however the shots are not synchronised to the dialogue. Instead, we see the respective reactions of the two rather than the speech which appropriately informs the viewer of the couple’s state of minds. After the heated conversation concludes, a Dutch angle is used to display Romina angrily storming off. This signifies her world falling apart after learning that Ariel has cheated on her.
Following this, there is a POV shot from Ariel’s perspective which displays an array of distraught guests. As he opens the door to the kitchen, the camera is fastened to the door which positions the viewer in a disorienting position. A low-angle shot tracks Romina, underlying her anxiety. This is reinforced when we cut to an unflattering angle of Romina, displaying her from a frontal low angle which exemplifies her raw emotions. As Ariel pursues her, he is filmed with a handheld camera to illustrate his distress.
As Romina reaches the top of the building, a birds-eye-view shot displays the colossal height of the building. Through this, the viewer is teased of the possibility of her jumping off as she leans over the edge. Another shallow depth of field is implemented during this scene to draw the viewer’s focus onto Romina alone. As the conversation between the chef and Romina ensues, a long shot is used to allow the chef to deliver his advice. There is also stark juxtaposition between the typical romantic lighting of the setting and the hectic events taking place.
As we re-enter the ballroom, the camera movements become increasingly shaky to emphasises the chaotic atmosphere. The lighting is also extremely harsh which juxtaposes the previously established opulence of the reception. A low-angle shot depicts Romina striding towards the camera which informs us that she has regained the upper hand. Alongside this, a wide shot demonstrates the chef’s humiliation as word begins to spread. A multitude of Dutch angle tracking shots are implemented to illustrate the discombobulating chaos that is occurring.
Romina then grabs Lourdes and the two begin to rapidly spin in circles. To convey the dizziness to the viewer, a camera rig is attached to the pair’s backs which is reflective of the tumultuous mood of the wedding. As Lourdes crashes into the mirror a low-angle shot depicts the aftermath, followed by a two shot of Ariel’s parents. At this point, the previously used Steadicam is replaced with an unsteady handheld camera, which proceeds to move around the room and come to rest on Lourdes. Finally, as Ariel confronts Romina, a series of two shots creates a sense of desperation as opposed to the prior romantic tone.
Sound
The tale begins with the implementation of the diegetic compiled score Titanium by David Guetta. The apt use of this upbeat pop song lightens the mood of the wedding and persistently pulsates throughout the reception. The song is representative of strength and overcoming hardships which foreshadows the extremely ironic events of the wedding. The scene is directed with the specific song choice in mind due to the meticulous synchronisation between the action on screen and the phrasing of the song. For example, as the bridge of the song is reached, the guests are waiting in anticipation for the couple to enter through the theatrical red curtain.
Titanium is then interrupted by an ensemble playing traditionally Argentine upbeat music to accompany the dancing. As the lively energy of the reception increases, the diegetic composed score appropriately accompanies the atmosphere. Afterwards, as Romina attempts to phone Lourdes, the ringing phone enters the mix. Alongside this, we see the conversation from Romina’s perspective but hear the diegetic dialogue as if we were close to Lourdes. Romina’s breathing gradually rises in the mix as she realises what her husband has done.
As the newlywed couple begins to dance, The Blue Danube begins to play which is reminiscent of a traditional wedding atmosphere. This specific piece is also present in the likes of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, this ominous connection potentially creates a feeling of unease within the viewer. This romantic score ironically juxtaposes Romina’s chaotic state of mind. Additionally, the score rises in the mix as the couple touches hands which heightens the tension.
During the rooftop scene with Romina and the chef, the muted city ambience can be heard during the pensive conversation between the two. In stark juxtaposition, the dynamic diegetic sounds of lighting and wind loudly enters the mix as Romina unleashes her anger upon Ariel.
A dramatic score is layered in the mix as Romina storms back into the reception, reflecting her exasperated state of mind. The sound also becomes exclusively diegetic to accentuate the emotion of the poignant scenes later on. Finally, a theatrical ‘gunshot-like’ sound play as Ariel opens the champagne bottle which teases the viewer into believing a gun has been fired until the bottle is revealed.
Mise-en-scène
During the initial projected closeup of young Romina, the background of the image is red – signifying the later danger and peril of the wedding. A variety of luxurious objects reinforce the opulence of the wedding, including the flashing lights and smoke machines. A number of large, golden chandeliers as well as an array of disco balls reinforce the superficial happiness and extravagance the wedding purports.
The bride and groom enter the reception from behind a theatrical red curtain, suggesting that their relationship is merely a façade. Romina sports a stereotypically designed white wedding dress and veil, implying Romina’s current purity. Romina’s hair is also meticulously immaculate – both of which become increasingly unkempt as the intensity of the situation increases. Ariel’s appearance is relatively scruffy, being unshaven which implies that the wedding is unimportant to him.
Lourdes wears a black dress and has a star tattoo. Her distinctive appearance hints to the viewer that she holds a great deal of importance to the story. Her black dress attributes a sense of elegance and prestigiousness to her character. As Romina runs away from the reception, her appearance is extremely disheveled and her makeup is ruined, reinforcing the chaotic havoc of the wedding
As Ariel runs up the stairs to pursue Romina, the walls are illuminated with green lighting which is symbolic of Romina’s jealousy. During the rooftop scene, the narrative device of pathetic fallacy is utilised, incorporating thunder and lightning into the setting which is reflective of Romina’s irate feelings towards Ariel.
As Romina throws Lourdes into the mirror, the appearance of smashed mirror heightens the utter pandemonium of the wedding. At this point, Romina is at her most disheveled – her appearance is fully unhinged which reinforces that this is the peak of turmoil. The blood on her dress suggests that her prior purity is abolished. The initial opulent atmosphere is contrasted by a multitude of unkempt guests and broken glass.
During the final moments of the tale, Romina attempts to enact the motions of a traditional Argentine wedding ceremony. However, there is a sense of hollowness and superficiality as the rings are pulled from the wedding cake, suggesting that Romina can never return to normality. Finally Romina removes her hair extension, which is representative of her final stage of degeneration.
Editing
The initial slideshow of the wedding is cut to the beat of Titanium, suggesting that the wedding has been meticulously planned beforehand. An example of parallel editing is incorporated between Ariel and Romina as they separate to join their respective friends and families, reinforcing their distant relationship. To further accentuate this, the couple face opposing directions between the parallel edits.
The pace of editing quickens as the excitement builds and the chorus of the song is reached with more frequent cuts being implemented throughout. A wide variety of cameras are used to reinforce the superficiality of the wedding. A fake camera interface is placed over the screen, alongside the utilisation of a lower quality film stock to purport a sense of authenticity.
A pair of jump cuts are used to display the passage of time between the Titanium sequence and the traditional Argentine ensemble, as well as to the photograph being taken afterwards. As the confrontation between the couple occurs, we spend a longer amount of time focused on Romina than Ariel, which positions the viewer to empathise with her to a higher degree. Romina then runs away from the scene, during which the sound of door closing aptly matches the cadence of the score. Another example of parallel editing is used as the couple separate.
The pace of editing slows as the chef offers his advice to Romina, the only cuts are part of a shot/reverse shot sequence between the pair. During Ariel’s pursuit, there is a glance object between him and Romina’s lone shoe which appropriately focuses the viewer’s attention towards it. As Romina unleashes her anger upon Ariel, the edit alternates between an over-the-shoulder shot which displays Romina’s full figure, a three-quarter closeup of Romina as well as a reactionary shot of Ariel. As we re-enter the reception, Szifron cross cuts to portray Romina’s enjoyment of the party and Ariel’s discontentment. Finally, another example of cross cutting is implemented to display a passage of time after the mirror is smashed.
Performance
As the couple initially enters the reception, they appear to be superficially happy. Both put on an extremely over-zealous performance by smiling and waving at each guest they pass by without looking at each other. This suggests and foreshadows their infidelity towards one another. Each of the guests are smiling and make friendly gestures towards each other, establishing an uncomfortably positive atmosphere.
During the dance floor scene, the guests conform to stereotypical gender roles. The groups of women scream while the men act boisterously. As we see the setting from the camera’s perspective, Ariel looks directly at the camera which emphasises his artificial demeanour.
As we cut to the scene of the photo being taken, each of the guests smile ostensibly which suggests that no one truly wants to be there. Alongside this, Romina also fakes a smile as she converses with one of the guests, clearly demonstrating her disinterest towards the conversation. The topic of Facebook is often mentioned throughout the conversation, reinforcing the theme of superficiality presented throughout the tale. In response to this, the woman attempts to initiate a conflict by sowing the seed of jealousy within Romina by making subtle reference to the many other guests in the reception.
As Romina scrutinises Lourdes’ behaviour, Ariel leans over the young woman and addresses her flirtatiously which foreshadows their secret relationship to the viewer. During Romina’s scheme to discern Lourdes’ identity, she briefly assesses herself in the mirror. This suggests to the viewer that Romina is questioning her own identity. After she learns the truth, Romina resorts to alcohol as a coping mechanism to recover from her distraught state of mind. During the confrontation between the couple as they dance, Ariel’s eyes dart around the room which emphasises to the viewer that he is still attempting to maintain his untarnished persona.
During the roof scene, Romina’s voice begins to tremble as she confides within the cook which informs the viewer of her vulnerability. In stark juxtaposition, Romina unleashes the full force of her anger upon Ariel, who reacts by throwing up. This emphasises his utter shock and disgust towards the situation.
As she re-enters the ballroom, Romina remains artificially calm in order to maintain her façade. She addresses Lourdes in a sarcastic, over-friendly manner to reinforce her suppressed rage towards her husband. She remains in complete control of the situation, commanding the DJ and disorienting Ariel off of his feet. Through this, Ariel’s true emotions are displayed to the viewer – his priority of maintaining a reputable appearance is lost. Finally, as Ariel attempts to console Romina for the final time, he speaks transparently and genuinely – indicating to the viewer that the persona of perfection is finally abolished.
1. Define a portmanteau film. What are other notable examples from recent years?
A portmanteau film (also known as an anthology film) is a sub genre of film which consists of several short films that are often intertwined by a thematic concept, premise or overlapping event. Arguably the most famous example of a portmanteau film is Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) which fluidly intertwines its parallel narratives into an enthralling non-linear story. An anthology film released recently is The FrenchDispatch (Wes Anderson, 2021) which follows three different storylines which revolve around a French newspaper company releasing its final issue.
2. Give a brief synopsis of each of the stories in the film. Which are the most effective? Why do you think these stories have been chosen?
“Pasternak”: Every passenger on a plane realises that they all have a negative connection to a man named Gabriel Pasternak, who happens to be the pilot. They soon learn that the flight was a setup and that Pasternak has locked himself in the cockpit. Pasternak then crashes the plane into his parents’ house, committing the ultimate kamikaze.
“Las ratas” (The Rats): A waitress recognises a loan shark at a restaurant as the man who is responsible for her father’s death. The older chef offers to mix rat poison into the man’s food and proceeds to do so without informing the waitress. The mobster’s teenage son arrives and begins to share the poisoned meal with his dad. After the waitress attempts to take the food away, the loan shark begins to attack her until the older chef stabs him with a chef’s knife. The tale ends with the son receiving medical treatment with an ambulance as the chef is arrested and driven away.
“El más fuerte” (The Strongest): A smartly dressed man is driving through the desert and attempts to overtake an older car that persistently blocks his path. He insults the rugged, burly driver as he overtakes him. The businessman’s tyre then gets punctured as the burly man soon catches up. He proceeds to smash the businessman’s windshield as well as defecate and urinate on it. A hectic brawl then ensues between the two men which results in both of them being blown up. The police mistakes the two for lovers who died in a crime of passion.
“Bombita” (Little Bomb): A demolition expert discovers that his car has been towed away after collecting a cake for her daughter’s birthday. Angry with the fact that the road was unlabelled, he reluctantly pays the fee. The next day, his appeal at at the DMV is rejected and he attacks the glass. He hatches a plan to deliberately get his car, now planted with explosives, towed away in order to destroy the towing office with no casualties. He is imprisoned and the engineer soon becomes a local hero, being dubbed “Bombita” and instantly beloved by the prisoners.
“La propuesta” (The Proposal): A teenage son of a wealthy family arrives home after committing a hit-and-run on a pregnant woman. The parents settle a deal with their lawyer to have their faithful groundskeeper take the blame for $500,000. The local prosecutor subsequently sees through this plan and the lawyer attempts to renegotiate. The father calls off the deal and tells his son to confess to the media. The lawyer and father finally agree on a lower price. Finally, as the groundskeeper is taken away by the police, the dead woman’s husband repeatedly strikes his head with a hammer.
“Hasta que la muerte nos separe” (Till Death Do Us Part): At a wedding, the bride soon discovers that her groom has cheated on her with one of the guests. In utter distress, she confronts him during their first dance and soon runs away to the roof. As the groom finds her on the roof, he discovers her having sex with a kitchen worker. Chaos ensues, as the bride slams the woman her husband cheated on into a mirror. A brawl emerges between the groom’s mother and the bride collapses. The couple then resolves their differences and make love by the wedding cake.
I personally believe that the most effective tale is the third tale, “El más fuerte” as it aptly builds tension and suspense through various ways and ultimately ends in an extremely satisfying manner. The six stories are inspired by the pressures of Argentinian modern-life, and four are based on real life experiences of the director, Damián Szifron.
“Las ratas”
3. The literal translation of the title is Savage Tales. How is this a more appropriate title and how well does it apply to each of the stories in the film?
The six “deadly stories of revenge” all concern members of modern society who reach breaking point and unleash their primitive instincts upon the world. The adjective “savage” has connotations of being undomesticated and feral. Therefore, “Savage Tales” can be considered to be a more appropriate title for the film.
4. Explain the title sequence — how is it an appropriate choice for the tone, message and aesthetics of the film?
The title sequence depicts a variety of ‘wild’ animals, such as an eagle, shark and tiger thriving in their natural habitats. Accompanied by a composed score by Gustavo Santaollala, the title sequence symbolically reflects the primitive nature of the characters throughout the six tales.
5. What does the viewer learn about Argentine society from watching the film? Does this accurately reflect the political and social reality?
Throughout the film, it becomes clear that the film presents an Argentine society in which individuals persistently attempt to rebel against disagreeable social constructs. This stance presented by Szifron relates to the 1974 ‘Dirty War’ of Argentina in which a military junta led by Gen Jorge Videla seized control of the country. This led to around 30,000 terrorist-related deaths.
The ‘Dirty War’ of 1974
6. Are there aesthetic differences between each of the stories? How do the aesthetics support the story being told?
An over-arching aesthetic motif that emanates throughout the film is the juxtaposition between the mundanity of the characters’ lives and the extreme violence presented in each of the six tales. The abuse of power displayed in each tale varies, ranging from the pilot of a plane full of passengers to a notoriously powerful loan shark.
7. Are there any notable similarities or differences in the representations of men and women, rich and poor?
In tales such as “El más fuerte” the differentiation between the rich and poor is made explicitly clear through the use of mise-en-scène. The wealthier man drives an expensive new car and wears an elegant suit and sunglasses, subtly informing the viewer of his social class. Conversely, the poorer man drives a well-used car and wears cheaper clothes, including a basic shirt and cargo trousers to indicate his lower place in society.
Wealth divide presented in Wild Tales
The social divide between men and women are also presented in a similar way. Throughout the film, men hold highly prestigious jobs such as pilots, lawyers and engineers. On the contrary, women hold more domestic positions, such as cooks and waitresses.
How far do each of the films you have studied represent key characters in ways that reinforce or challenge the audience’s expectations?
Autumn 2020
Essay plan
Introduction
Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film. Being a passion project of the director, it is set in the summer of 1944 – five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the fascist regime, the Falangists, still emanates throughout Spain during their pursuit of the Spanish Maquis rebel forces through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.
Characters such as Ofelia and Mercedes are representative of the hope and disobedience initiated by the Maquis rebel force. Conversely, Captain Vidal is the figurehead of the Falangist fascist regime and he is represented in ways reflective of an authoritarian society throughout the film.
Sequence 1 – Fig Tree Sequence
Cinematography:
Wide shots of soldiers, panning left to right, tracking (eye-level), tree framing (dwarfing Ofelia, shrouded in darkness), shoe closeup.
Low-angle long shot, central framing – obscured by lighting, silhouette is juxtaposed by particle fairies, mid shots push into Ofelia, crabs right to transition.
Tilt up from Vidal’s shoes, camera arcs as he shouts, lowering crane shot displays the rebellion.
Closeups of Ofelia, pushes in on key, closeup of Ofelia holding it focuses attention, pedestals up as she retrieves clothes, centrally framed during rain.
Juxtaposition between palette and uniform, traditional fairytale clothing and book, uterine tree, decorated uniform, hidden rebels less well-dressed (framing and posture)
Ofelia heavy breathing, addresses toad as human, doesn’t cower
Sequence 2 – First Shaving Sequence
Cinematography:
Tracks Vidal as he picks up blade, tilt to face, mid to long shot, arcs around to mid-closeup of shaving cream, uncomfortable closeup, mechanical lair, warmer lighting during Mercedes scene, pedestal up to portray Vidal’s power, claustrophobia
Luxury items, razor blade reflects Vidal, cluttered desk, mechanical imagery, decorated uniform, Pale Man room
Editing:
Glance object focuses on razor, fast pacing matches the tempo of music
Performance:
Precise + fluid movements, ritualistic, moves meticulously, unnecessary shaving, Mercedes acts as a mother figure
Essay – Version 1
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.
It could be stated that Ofelia’s character is formed from the typical ‘protagonist archetype’ established through storytelling, reinforcing the viewer’s expectations. Conversely, Ofelia is also representative of the hope and disobedience initiated by the Maquis rebel force, which ultimately challenges the viewer’s expectations. Captain Vidal is the antagonistic figurehead of the Falangist fascist regime and he is represented in ways reflective of an oppressive, authoritarian society throughout the film which reinforces the viewer’s expectations. To demonstrate this, my two chosen key sequences are the Fig Tree Sequence and the First Shaving Sequence.
The initial opening wide shot of the Fig Tree Sequence depicts the Falangist soldiers on horseback, in order to pursue the Maquis rebels. The non-diegetic composed score is extremely grandiose and patriotic, which is layered in tandem with the diegetic rhythmic galloping of the horses and the soldiers shouting ardently. Through this, del Toro represents the fascist regime as an elite domineering force which is reflective of the viewer’s expectations. The camera pans from left to right, signifying the treacherous journey the soldiers are embarking upon. We then cross cut between the soldiers and Ofelia through the use of a hidden cut – this example of parallel editing aptly informs the audience that these events are occurring simultaneously.
Another pan from left to right, displays Ofelia’s adventurous journey which creates a sense of duality between the forces of good and evil. As the camera rests on Ofelia, a tracking shot follows her movements as the viewer’s focus is appropriately converged upon her. The camera is at eye-level which encourages the viewer to empathise with our protagonist. At this point, the score becomes more playful and bucolic which represents her naturalistic demeanour. The soldiers’ faint chanting can also be heard low in the mix which reminds the viewer of their omnipresence. Ofelia sports traditional fairytale clothing which is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland, another archetypical protagonist presented to us in a fairytale.
As the camera continues to smoothly glide to track Ofelia, we push back in order to reveal the fig tree in its entirety which is reminiscent of uterine imagery in its design. This is perhaps representative of Ofelia’s maturity as she continues to persevere through her daring adventure – this example of metaphorical imagery potentially challenges the viewer’s preconceived expectations. Ofelia’s narration is naturally layered alongside the soldiers’ pursuit of the rebels which emphasises to the viewer that this is her fairytale. A variety of long takes are implemented to slow the pace of the film to a halt while keeping the focus on Ofelia.
As Ofelia enters the tree, a low angle long shot displays her standing at the entranced. She is centrally framed and partially obscured by the lighting in order to converge the viewer’s attention on her silhouette. The darkness of the silhouette is juxtaposed by the vibrant particle fairies, which suggests that a foreign entity is entering the realm. This challenges the viewer’s expectations of a stereotypical weak, female protagonist by exemplifying the theme of disobedience and rebellion. The implementation of woodwind instrumentation throughout the tree scenes further reinforces Ofelia as the protagonist.
Afterwards, we cross cut back to Vidal’s army – the captain’s stern expression and measured demeanour in tandem with his highly decorated uniform reinforces his authoritative position to the viewer. The two soldiers that accompany him act subserviently. For example, Vidal’s hand gesture immediately silences them, which informs us that the captain is used to being obeyed. In effect, this cements the sociopolitical hierarchy within the regime, which perhaps challenges the viewer’s expectations. Vidal proceeds to shout into the forest, during which his booming voice is extremely high in the mix. This emphatically represents his masculinity, which ultimately instills fear in the viewer. As the soldiers ride back home, a lowering crane shot displays the hidden rebels in a position of power through the meticulous use of framing and blocking. They have successfully outsmarted Vidal and this represents the rebel force in a powerful state of being.
As we cut back to Ofelia in the tree, the camera arcs around her as she crawls and eventually pushes in on a closeup of her face. Her face is extremely muddied, illustrating her character as adventurous and daring, reinforcing the viewer’s expectations. The mud itself has also dried in order to signify the passage of time, displaying Ofelia’s heroic resilience. She persistently breathes heavily which implies that she is extremely nervous about exploring the foreign realm. This informs the viewer that Ofelia isn’t perfect, which challenges the viewer’s expectations.
During Ofelia’s exchange with the toad, she addresses it as if it were a human in order to reassure herself that she isn’t afraid of it. As the toad begins to growl at her, Ofelia continues to stand her ground in the face of danger – she doesn’t cower or show weakness in any way. Alongside this, the score becomes more hopeful as Ofelia hatches her plan to outsmart the toad. Ofelia smirks as a glance object is implemented between Ofelia and a cockroach in her hand, informing the viewer of her cunning plan. After the toad dies, we cut to a closeup of Ofelia holding a mysterious key which displays her utter encapsulation towards it, signifying its valuableness.
As Ofelia exits the tree, a sudden storm ensues causing Ofelia to become completely drenched by the rain. During this, she is centrally framed in order to completely focus the viewer’s attention on our protagonist in order to encourage the viewer to empathise with her. The oppressive rain vigorously enters the soundscape, establishing the narrative device of pathetic fallacy which is reflective of Ofelia’s miserable state of mind, juxtaposing her prior confidence. This emotional development in Ofelia’s character is perhaps surprising to the viewer, due to her aforementioned confident demeanour presented throughout the sequence.
The First Shaving Sequence opens with the diegetic audio of the gramophone emphatically entering the mix – the chosen piece being written by Antonio Molina. This specific piece is extremely evocative of the 1940s time period and oozes Spanish patriotism. A fluid tracking shot follows the movements of Vidal’s hand as he gingerly picks up his cutthroat blade. This deluxe razor blade reinforces the fact that the captain rules the sociopolitical hierarchy which includes overseeing the distribution of luxury items. This reinforces the viewer’s expectations of a fascist figurehead.
Vidal’s movements are extremely precise and meticulous as he selects the blade, moving precisely to the specifically selected music. It becomes clear to the viewer that Vidal treats the act of shaving as a sort of divine ritual, emphasising his masculinity. The captain’s ritualistic attitude towards shaving potentially challenges the viewer’s expectations due to Vidal’s prior representation as a stoic, emotionless leader. As Vidal begins to pensively walk to the mirror, the camera transitions from a mid shot to a long shot – displaying the surroundings of the room. The desk on which the shaving equipment lies is extremely cluttered, informing the viewer that this is the centre of Vidal’s command. The cog-like water wheels that make up the background of Vidal’s lair reinforce his mechanical demeanour towards the pursuit of the rebels.
After a glance object between Vidal and the razor, we cut to an uncomfortably claustrophobic closeup of Vidal shaving his face with temporal focus. The diegetic exaggerated ‘sharp’ sounds of the blade against his face are layered in the mix alongside the score. The razor blade itself is an accurate reflection of Vidal’s personality, requiring acute precision and diligence. It can also be noted that Vidal is shaving unnecessarily – he appears to already be clean shaven. Through this, it is potentially implied that the captain views shaving as a form of detoxing in order to separate himself from the arduous pursuit of the rebels. As the score ascends to a fanfare-like crescendo, Vidal’s posture is reminiscent of a matador, which further reinforces his macho disposition.
After an abrupt jump cut, the lighting of the scene becomes much warmer, informing the viewer that we are now in the presence of Mercedes. As the conversation between the two ensues, the camera pedestals up to portray Vidal as holding an authoritative power over her. This is reflective of the current opposition between the rebels and the fascists. The room the two converse in is extremely reminiscent of the Pale Man’s room, which is presented to the viewer later in the film. This example of foreshadowing establishes the evil parallels between Vidal and the Pale Man later in the film. Mercedes appears to act defiantly against Vidal, instructing him not to cook the rabbit. This foreshadows Mercedes’ disobedience against the Falangists later in the film which is representative of the ultimate triumph of good overcoming evil.
In conclusion, del Toro aptly implements the key elements of film in ways that appropriately represent the powerful forces of good and evil. This is achieved through the characterisation of Ofelia as a protagonist, as well as Vidal as an authoritarian antagonist.
In order to structure an appropriate answer for the following question, the following will act as a plan for my answer:
Discuss how aesthetics are used to communicate themes in your two chosen films. Make detailed reference to particular sequences in your answer.
Summer 2019
Essay plan
Introduction
Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film. Being a passion project of the director, it is set in the summer of 1944 – five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the fascist regime, the Falangists, still emanates throughout Spain during their pursuit of the Spanish Maquis rebel forces through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.
The key themes presented throughout the film are rebellion, gender, reality vs fantasy and authoritarian order which emanate throughout the film in a variety of ways.
The key aesthetics conveyed throughout are the juxtaposing colour palettes to define the realms, typical fairytale imagery, subjective shots (Ofelia’s POV) and GdT trademark violence.
Three key sequences chosen are First Bedtime Sequence, Fig Tree Sequence and Pale Man Sequence.
Sequence 1 – First Bedtime Sequence
Cinematography:
Blue colour palette juxtaposed by warmth of fire, tracking shots, closeups of Ofelia and Carmen (intimacy), long takes, camera pushes in until they fill the frame, pedestal down into CGI, hellish colour palette, gliding camera, insect appears again, colour palette changes to greens and browns, camera arcs back to show Ofelia and Carmen.
Cut to Vidal in lair, low-angle shot reinforces authority, closeup of pocket watch for the second time, doctor enters with out of focus soldiers, shot/reverse shots depict the doctor holding authority, low-angle shot used as Captain rises to establish that he now holds the power.
Dark moonlit exterior setting accentuates blues and greys, claustrophobia created as camera pushes in, low-angle shot of Vidal, camera swings round as Vidal smashes farmer’s face, alternating between low-angle and closeup.
Wide shot as Vidal shoots farmers – soldiers remain emotionlesss, camera tracks Vidal – centrally framed.
Mise-en-scène:
Blue colour palette, gothic interior design – dark wood and fireplace, soft lighting – purity, horn design on bed frame (uterine), Ofelia’s humble fabrics juxtapose Carmen’s silk, naturalistic makeup.
Foetus evokes fantasy, CGI, crimson palette (GdT trademark), purple rose signifies royalty, foreboding branches, now-familiar insect transitions back to reality,
Mechanical imagery in lair, cog-like water wheel, decorated uniform, ‘over-realistic’ set design, well-dressed doctor, Vidal smokes.
Homogenous soldiers, harsh lighting, farmers are raggedly dressed, GdT graphic blood (aesthetic of facial harm is established), rabbit reveal.
Editing:
Long takes, slow pace, hidden cut transition into CGI, more hidden cuts – unnoticeable change (dream-like).
Crossfade into Vidal’s lair (simultaneous), glance object between Vidal and the watch (subjectivity), shot/reverse shot – continuity editing, J cut.
More shot/reverse shots, long take builds tension, contrast between the prior slow pacing and the fast-paced violence, reactionary shots, pacing sedates once the violence is over.
Sequence 2 – Fig Tree Sequence
Cinematography:
Wide shots of soldiers, panning left to right, tracking (eye-level), tree framing (dwarfing Ofelia, shrouded in darkness), shoe closeup.
Low-angle long shot, central framing – obscured by lighting, silhouette is juxtaposed by particle fairies, wide shots of tree, mid shots push into Ofelia, crabs right to transition.
Tilt up from Vidal’s shoes, closeup of illuminated antibiotic, camera arcs as he shouts, lowering crane shot emphasises the rebellion.
Closeups of Ofelia, wide shot of never-ending cave, crab right to reveal toad, quick pan (right to left), reactionary closeups.
Pushes in on key, closeup of Ofelia holding it focuses attention, pedestals up as she retrieves clothes, centrally framed during rain.
Mise-en-scène:
Juxtaposition between palette and uniform, forest palette, traditional fairytale clothing, particle fairies, uterine tree, magic stones.
Dim lighting, overgrown, dark brown palette, mud + cockroaches.
Tactile antibiotic bottle, rebels are less well-dressed but exert power.
Muddy face, animatronic toad, toad’s death metaphor, mysterious key, return to blue palette, pathetic fallacy.
Over-the-shoulder closeup of storybook (immersion), cut to illustration that matches narration
Wide shot existing between two realms, camera pull, extreme long shot, lighting and colour palette
Hourglass closeup, two-shot of Ofelia and Pale Man
Gliding worms-eye-view of children paintings, pedestal up to reveal shoes,
Tracking shot of fairies, closeup of key, closeup of hourglass (camera push in)
Closeup of blade, push in slowly to Pale Man, his dormancy juxtaposed by fairies
Pushes into forbidden grapes, focus pull to Pale Man, high angle shot depicts Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia
Rapid crab shot initiates chase sequence, handheld camera creates disorientation
Hellish colour palette contrasted with steely blue, distinctive gateway defined
Mise-en-scène:
Holocaust clothes, imprisonment, traditional fairy tale book, uterine drawings, pastel colours, palettes
Rabbit hole crawl (Alice in Wonderland), hellish colour palette, blood-painted wall, medieval resemblance, hourglass represents time and Pale Man
Green clothes juxtapose hellish realm, forbidding fireplace, tantalising food (Alice in Wonderland) – what a child might imagine,
Pale Man symbolic of greed, ghoulish eyes, Goya paintings, Holocaust shoes, key (hope),
Ornamental dagger, Macbeth, appealing grapes,
Vidal and Pale Man parallels, bloodstained hands, GdT violence (fairy deaths), shoe motif
Editing:
Glance object between Ofelia and book (subjectivity), slow paced, fade transition
Heavy colour grading, glance object, alternating between subjective shots and objective
Parallel editing, visualised mental thought process, long takes
Pace quickens during chase, reactionary shot shows Ofelia POV, pacing slows as the danger is over
Essay – Version 1
Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, 2006) is a fantasy/war film. Being a passion project of the director, it is set in the summer of 1944 – five years after the Spanish Civil War. The presence of the fascist regime, the Falangists, still emanates throughout Spain during their pursuit of the Maquis rebel force through which constant guerrilla warfare is initiated.
Throughout the film, a multitude of aesthetics are used to convey specific themes. The themes of rebellion against authoritarian order and child-like innocence are presented over the course of the film. My two chosen key sequences are the ‘First Bedtime Sequence’ and the ‘Pale Man Sequence’.
During the First Bedtime Sequence, del Toro immediately establishes the theme of authoritarian order through the use of extremely distinctive colour palettes. As Ofelia and Carmen lie in the bed, the incorporation of a foreboding, steely blue colour palette emphasises that this room is owned by the leader of the Falangists – Captain Vidal. The only warmth of the room lies in the fireplace which is representative of the small but omnipresent Maquis rebellion. During the ensuing CGI sequence of the foetus, the colour palette is juxtaposed with a hellish, crimson palette to reinforce the evil that persists within reality and the Underground Realm. The appearance of the familiar insect within the branches signals another change in colour palette to the comforting greens and browns of the forest which is exemplary of the theme of rebellion.
During the next scene, Vidal is seen silently working away in his gloomy lair. Del Toro utilises a low-angle shot and Vidal dons an extremely decorated uniform to reinforce his power and authority over the Falangists. Vidal’s spyglass is an example of ‘over-realistic set design’, an extremely characteristic aesthetic of del Toro’s filmography. This spyglass, as well as other objects such as the cog-like water wheels emphasises Vidal’s mechanical demeanour. The soldiers that accompany the doctor as he enters the room are out of focus, suggesting to the viewer that they are at Vidal’s immediate beck and call. More low-angle shot/reverse shots are used during the captain’s conversation with the doctor to emphasise that he is the authoritative figurehead.
The next scene takes place in a dark, moonlit setting which accentuates the blues and greys of the colour palette. This, alongside the use of a long take immediately establishes a sense of apprehension within the viewer. The camera then proceeds to push in closer to the fascists, creating a sense of claustrophobia. The lighting is harshly distributed onto the rebel farmers, focusing the viewer’s attention upon them and pinpointing the rebellion as the Falangists’ prime target. The farmers themselves are dressed raggedly, re-emphasising their position in post-civil war society. The camera then rapidly swings round as Vidal proceeds to smash the farmer’s face with a bottle, during which we rapidly alternate between low-angle shots of Vidal’s stoic expression and closeups of the farmer’s beaten face. Through this, the pace of the edit drastically increases in order to reiterate the domineering force of the Falangists. The incorporation of extremely graphic violence is another typical aesthetic of del Toro’s work and this introduces the motif of facial violence which reoccurs throughout the film. After the brutality is over, the pacing becomes sedate once again to inform the viewer that the storm is over. A wide shot is used as Vidal remains centrally framed as he proceeds to shoot the two farmers, during which the homogeneously dressed soldiers remain emotionless which emphasises their loyalty to the authoritative order of the regime.
The theme of child-like innocence is presented throughout the First Bedtime Sequence in a number of ways. Firstly, tracking shots are used to follow Ofelia towards Carmen’s bed which establishes her importance as an innocent protagonist to the viewer. The camera then rests on a two-shot long take of Carmen and Ofelia in the bed, through which the camera proceeds to periodically push in and out unnoticeably. The lighting is soft on Ofelia who wears humble fabrics, which is reflective of her purity. As the conversation between them continues, the shot becomes increasingly tighter to the point where the two fit the entire frame. Emphasising the intimacy between the two characters, this implies to the viewer that Ofelia is reliant on her mother’s warmth and comfort which reinforces her innocence. The appearance of Ofelia’s unborn brother as a foetus through the use of CGI also reinforces the theme of child-like innocence.
Throughout the Pale Man sequence, the theme of authoritarian order continues to preside throughout. Firstly, an opening wide shot contextualises the location of the scene initially taking place in the bedroom of Vidal’s territory. This is further exemplified through the reuse of the aforementioned icy blue colour palette to reinforce Ofelia’s state of imprisonment within the confines of the fascist-ruled reality. Her traditional clothing is resemblant of Anne Frank as well as many other Holocaust victims, representative of the aftermath of a totalitarian regime, such as the Falangists.
As she enters the realm of the Pale Man, another wide shot depicts Ofelia existing between the two realms. The previous colour palette is juxtaposed with a colour-graded hellish palette, which incorporates reds and crimsons into a monstrous visual spectacle. The interior is resemblant of a medieval dungeon, reminiscent of the Falangists’ traditional rule of authority over the rebels. Ofelia’s green clothing starkly juxtaposes the hellish realm, suggesting that she is acting as the rebellious force within the institutional evil of the Pale Man.
The Pale Man’s design is symbolic of greed – his loose skin in tandem with his malnourished body represents his gluttonous tendencies which he has not indulged in for a long time. Furthermore, the camera then pedestals up to reveal a colossal pile of shoes that lies beside the Pale Man’s table which is once again symbolic of the many victims of the Holocaust. The shoes represent a potential future that exists in Ofelia’s world which exposes the dangers of a fascist, authoritarian regime such as the Falangists.
Ofelia then retrieves an ornamentally designed dagger from behind a locked door. Receiving a closeup, the dagger is extremely shiny and polished, which reinforces its authenticity and uniqueness. The dagger also has iconographically symbolic relations to the theme of betrayal and rebellion towards the fascists. Alongside this, the key which Ofelia bears during this sequence is exemplary of the rebellious force that will overcome the fascist regime. Later in the film, Mercedes utilises a key to free the peasants from the wrath of the soldiers, reshaping the future of Spain forever.
There are potential parallels between the antagonistic forces of Vidal and the Pale Man respectively. While the captain consumes baby rabbits, the Pale Man devours children which reinforces them both as demonic and remorseless. The Pale Man’s hands are also bloodstained, once again linking to the act of betrayal and rebellion. The fairies’ deaths are extremely brutal and graphic (a typical aesthetic of del Toro’s work) – blood gushes into the Pale Man’s mouth. This symbolises the death of fantasy and whimsicality the fascists enforce.
The theme of child-like innocence is also presented throughout the Pale Man Sequence in a number of ways. Through the use of an over-the-shoulder shot, the drawings within Ofelia’s traditional storybook are portrayed. A glance object is implemented between Ofelia and the book which places the viewer in Ofelia’s virtuous perspective. This emphasises her innocent immersion within her own fairytale. Moreover, the drawings are reminiscent of uterine imagery which suggests Ofelia’s maturity. The use of pastel colours further exemplifies the whimsicality of her fairytale.
As Ofelia crawls through the mysterious gateway to the Pale Man’s lair, the action of ‘crawling through the rabbit hole’ is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. Del Toro’s aesthetic reference to this traditional fairytale acutely portrays Ofelia as an innocent fairytale protagonist.
Ofelia then reaches the Pale Man’s table, during which the camera crabs from left to right in order to track her movements from the opposite side of the table. Her trance-like state is displayed to the viewer as she observes the tantalising forbidden feast that lies on the table, reinforcing her innocence and vulnerability. The food is predominantly made up of sweet, luxurious delicacies such as fruits and jellies which is representative of what an innocent child might imagine a feast to be like. The camera then rests on a two shot of Ofelia looking intently at the Pale Man to present him as an antagonistic force.
We then cut to a gliding worms-eye-view shot looking up at the ceiling which depict paintings that display the Pale Man’s visceral brutality towards a countless amount of helpless children. These paintings are resemblant of the works of Goya, a Spanish romantic artist known for extremely graphic depictions of violence towards defenceless children. As Ofelia becomes tempted by the grapes, the camera cuts between closeups of Ofelia, the grapes and the Pale Man in order to subtly visualise her mental thought process and emphasise her innocent inability to resist the tantalising temptation the forbidden fruit emits. A high angle shot is used to depict the Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia, reinforcing the looming danger he radiates towards the vulnerable protagonist.
In conclusion, an abundance of aesthetics are used to communicate the themes of rebellion vs authoritarian order and child-like innocence in a wide variety of ways over the course of the film. Del Toro masterfully employs his characteristic aesthetics as an auteur, such as brutal violence and stark colour palettes to persistently reinforce key thematic concepts and motifs throughout Pan’s Labyrinth.
We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “Pale Man sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:55:21-01:02:19). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.
Cinematography
The scene begins on a wide shot which arcs around, depicting Ofelia taking out her storybook. First and foremost, this contextualises the location of the scene being Vidal’s bedroom but this shot also informs the viewer that Ofelia is alone. We then cut to an over-the-shoulder closeup of her storybook depicting the pictures coming to life. This emphasises her complete immersion within her own fairytale. Subsequently, as Ofelia narrates the story, we cut to an appropriate picture in order to appropriately guide the viewer through the fairytale.
As Ofelia climbs into the mysterious gateway, a wide shot depicts her existing between the two realms. The camera then pulls back in order to provide the viewer with a sense of scale. After a transition which implies a passage of time, we shift into an extreme long shot which portrays Ofelia peering into the ominous lair. At this point, there is a notable change in lighting and colour palette from one shot to the other which clearly defines the other-worldliness of the hellish realm from reality. We persistently cut between the two worlds in order to make this distinction perspicuous.
The next shot is a closeup of an hourglass which indicates its importance. The idea of a ‘race against time’ is planted in the viewer’s mind which builds suspense. We then cut to a wide shot from behind Ofelia that reveals the new, unseen area that she is entering. The camera crabs from left to right, tracking Ofelia’s movements from the opposite side of the table. Her trance-like state is portrayed as she observes the tantalising food that lies on the table. The camera then comes to rest on a two shot of Ofelia looking at the Pale Man, it lingers for a while in order to let the viewer observe this enigmatic humanoid creature. The camera then slightly rises to emphasises the Pale Man’s oppressive and imposing nature.
An ensuing informatory shot depicts a mysterious pair of eyes on a plate as well as the Pale Man himself without any eyes. Through this, the viewer can infer that the eyes belong to the Pale Man. We then cut to a reactionary shot as Ofelia picks the eyes up, as her disgusted expression is displayed. During this shot, the doors of the lair are present in the background, foreshadowing their later significance.
After this, we cut over-the-shoulder shot which instills a sense of revulsion within the viewer. This is due to the fact that the Pale Man must receive an appropriate amount of screen time in order to appear menacing. We then cut to a gliding worms-eye-view shot looking up at the ceiling which depicts a series of pictures of the Pale Man slaughtering children. The camera then pedestals up to reveal a pile of shoes which informs the viewer of the sheer amount of victims slaughtered by the Pale Man, the focus is then pulled from Ofelia’s stunned expression to the shoes themselves.
As Ofelia lets the fairies free out of the bag, a tracking shot trails their movements which focus our attention upon them. There is then a closeup reactionary shot of Ofelia as she holds the key which portrays her coming to the realisation of what she must do. We then cut to a closeup of the hourglass during which the camera pushes in to emphasise the fact that Ofelia doesn’t have much time remaining.
As we cut to an angle that is behind the keyhole, a frame within a frame is created. Ofelia’s determined expression is focused upon as she reaches further within to claim the blade. The blade in question receives a closeup, signifying its importance. We then cut to a wide shot of Ofelia and the Pale Man, which pushes in slowly. Through this, anticipation is created as he remains motionless. His dormancy is juxtaposed by the fairies who are energetically darting around the area.
The camera then tracks back, pushes in and pans to the right in order to reveal the forbidden plum-sized grapes. There is a focus pull from Ofelia to the Pale Man in order to signify that danger is still present. The temptation of the grapes is contrasted by the imminent danger of the Pale Man. During the closeup of Ofelia eating a grape, the camera moves over her shoulder as the focus is pulled towards the Pale Man. As the camera pushes in, the viewer can surmise that he is about to awaken.
An ensuing closeup depicts the Pale Man placing his eyes in his hands, during which the prior visual information presented to the viewer is connected in the their mind. There is another closeup of Ofelia as she is unable to resist another grape, through which the Pale Man is visibly rising behind her in the background. At this point, the viewer’s focus is converged on Ofelia, emphasising her fixation on the grape. We then cut to a high angle shot depicting the Pale Man dwarfing Ofelia, reinforcing the looming danger he emits. Afterwards, an extreme closeup forces the viewer to observe the Pale Man graphically devouring the fairies. We alternate between shots of this and closeups of Ofelia’s reaction.
A chase sequence is ensued by a closeup of the Pale Man, the camera proceeds to track Ofelia’s movements in a rapid crab shot. We then quickly cut between Ofelia (the fleer) and the Pale Man (the pursuer). As Ofelia dashes through the corridor, the distance remaining to the real world is contextualised by alternating between fast tracking shots portraying her movements with shots of reality. During the chase, a handheld camera is utilised in order to create disorientation, reflecting Ofelia’s panicked state of mind. A closeup of the Pale Man’s hand informs the viewer that he is able to see her
To further build tension, a series of closeups are displayed focusing on specific objects such as the broken chalk, the wobbly chair and the Pale Man’s legs. Rapid alternating shots depict the Pale Man getting ever closer to Ofelia as she finally escapes through the ceiling. As Ofelia re-enters the real world, the hellish colour palette of the Pale Man’s realm is juxtaposed with the steely blue colour palette of Vidal’s territory. This distinctively defines the gateway between the two worlds.
Sound
The first sounds heard are the scrawling diegetic sounds of a pencil as the mystical drawings appear on the pages of Ofelia’s fairytale book. As this occurs, an artificial fantasy-esque sound reminiscent of the Underground Realm enters the mix in order to emphasise the whimsicality of the drawings. Ofelia’s non-diegetic narration is layered in the mix with the non-diegetic composed score, through which the use of soft instrumentation – such as a piano – evokes imagery of the fantasy world within the viewer’s mind.
As Ofelia uses the chalk on the wall, an appropriate ‘scraping’ sound accompanies this action, which is expected by the viewer. Conversely, this sound evolves into an unexpected ‘fizziness’ which diverges our attention towards the melting wall. Ofelia then scrapes her hand against the impossible gateway which has a hinge-like heaviness to it, expressed through appropriate sound design. As Ofelia enters the Pale Man’s lair, her narration bridges the narrative between the real world and the hellish lair. Alongside this, a non-diegetic fanfare signifies the Princess’ arrival in the realm.
The soundscape of the hellish realm is extremely ambient and foreboding – incorporating the diegetic ominous breathing of the Pale Man which echoes throughout the corridor. Sharp, high-pitched violins are present in the mix, illustrating Ofelia’s vast uncertainty towards this foreign realm. Important objects also receive a sound, including the chair, doorway as well as the suspenseful sound of sand slowly falling through the hourglass. The ambient soundscape of the realm gradually rises in the mix as Ofelia approaches the Pale Man, signifying the danger that will unfold.
As Ofelia encounters the Pale Man, there is an appropriately utilised ‘swoosh’ sound in order to reinforce Ofelia’s anxious premonition. Ofelia then picks up the eyes on the plate, during which a repulsive ‘squelch’ sound enters the mix in order to disgust the viewer as well as signify their later importance. As the images displaying the various victims of the Pale Man are displayed, the harrowing cries of children are subtly incorporated into the mix. This informs the viewer of the Pale Man’s potential brutality.
As the fairies are released from their confinement by Ofelia, the diegetic chirping of their cries are promptly raised in the mix. At this point, the fairies appear excited and liberated in order to later juxtapose the fairies’ conflicting emotions. Ofelia then holds the fantastical key in her hand during which a jarring, piercing is attributed to it. This drastically emphasises its impending importance. As Ofelia unlocks and opens the door, the dramatic score gradually creeps into the mix which signifies that something new is about to be unleashed. Alongside this, Ofelia’s laboured breaths reinforce her distressed state of mind.
Ofelia then unsheathes the blade from its resting place, during which an artificial diegetic ‘sharp sound’ is added to the mix to emphasise its precision and deadliness. At this point, the score becomes much more dissonant in order to foreshadow the fact that something bad is about to occur. The fairies continue to flutter around the Pale Man, their cackling implies their arrogance. As Ofelia spots the luscious grapes, an appropriate harp enters the mix connoting heavenly imagery – perhaps referencing Adam and Eve. Ofelia is unable to resist the temptation of the grapes, during which the fairies vehemently attempt to prevent Ofelia from eating them. The viewer is able to fully understand the fairies’ communications through the use of sound alone.
As the Pale Man awakens from his dormancy, an emphatic ‘cracking’ sound is extremely loud in the mix, informing the viewer that he has been dormant for a prolonged period of time. In order to further repulse the viewer, another squelching sound is added to the mix as the Pale Man places his eyes in his hands. Piercing and squealing cries can be heard which is reminiscent of a baby’s feeble, infantile cries. The texture of the score then thickens as the tempo begins to increase, indicating the imminent danger. At this point, the soundscape is extremely overwhelming – layering the dramatic score with the shrieking fairies and the growling Pale Man. Ofelia’s breathing begins to quicken, accentuating the rising tension. As the Pale Man begins to devour the fairies, the visceral crunching of the fairies’ bones are excruciatingly loud in the mix.
As the chase ensues, the Pale Man makes skeletal noises as he pursues Ofelia, his rattling bones are prominently featured in the mix. We then cut to a closeup of the hourglass, during which the sound of the sand falling rises in the mix, emphasising that she is running out of time. The objects of importance at a specific moment additionally spikes in the mix for a split second in order divulge the viewer’s attention. The score itself continues to become more urgent as Ofelia frantically scrawls the chalk on the wall. The chalk itself has a piercing and grating sound attributed to it, making the viewer extremely uncomfortable and uneasy.
As Ofelia finally escapes the diabolical realm, the Pale Man’s frustrated noises slowly lower in the mix, informing the viewer that the danger is over for now. Once again, the door ‘fizzes’ as it closes to reinforce its fantastical nature. Finally, the pounding of the floorboards is incorporated into the mix to reiterate to the viewer that danger still lurks beneath.
Mise-en-scène
Ofelia’s traditional clothing is resemblant of Anne Frank as well as many other Holocaust victims. This links to the theme of imprisonment that echoes throughout the film, reflecting Ofelia’s state of mind in the real world. The relation to the Holocaust also foreshadows the later appearance of shoes in the Pale Man’s lair. Ofelia’s fairy book is traditionally designed as the drawings are reminiscent of uterine imagery, emphasising Ofelia’s maturity. The use of pastel colours further exemplifies the fantastical atmosphere of the fairy tale. The steely blue colour palette of the room once again reinforces that Ofelia is imprisoned within Vidal’s territory.
Ofelia then proceeds to crawl through the mysterious gateway to the Pale Man’s lair, this action of ‘crawling through the rabbit hole’ is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland, portraying Ofelia as a typical fairytale protagonist. The lair of the Pale Man has an extremely hellish colour palette, incorporating reds and crimsons into a monstrous visual spectacle. The wall is painted with blood, foreshadowing the Pale Man’s brutality towards his victims. The interior of the lair resembles a medieval dungeon, the pillars being reminiscent of a cathedral. This implies that the Pale Man is an ancient being, who has resided in this cavern for eternity. The appearance of the hourglass is symbolic of the theme of time that echoes throughout the film. It not only represents Ofelia’s time limit but it also is representative of Carmen’s numbered days. The hourglass’ design also resembles the yet to be seen Pale Man’s decrepit hand, emphasising that this realm is ruled by him.
Ofelia’s green clothing juxtaposes the devilish colour palette of the realm, symbolising her allegiance to the Faun. The large fireplace in the background appears forbidding, connoting further imagery of hell. The large table of tantalising food is once again resemblant of Alice in Wonderland. The food is predominantly sweet, luxury delicacies such as fruits and jellies which is representative of what a child might imagine a feast might entail.
The Pale Man’s design is symbolic of greed – his loose skin in tandem with his malnourished body represents his gluttonous tendencies which he has not indulged in for a long time. His eyes which lie on the plate are strikingly evil and ghoulish. The paintings which depicts the Pale Man’s brutality towards children is resemblant of the works of Goya, a Spanish romantic artist known for visceral paintings such as “Saturn Devouring His Son”.
The colossal pile of shoes which lies beside the Pale Man’s table can once again be linked to the Holocaust. The shoes represent a potential future that exists in Ofelia’s world which is symbolic of the dangers of a fascist, totalitarian regime. Conversely, the key which Ofelia bears represents the hope of overcoming the Falangists. Later in the film, Mercedes utilises a key to free the rebels from the wrath of the soldiers, reshaping the future of Spain forever.
Ofelia then retrieves the dagger from behind the locked door, which is extremely ornamental and polished in design reinforcing its authenticity and uniqueness. The dagger also has potential symbolic relations to Macbeth, representing the theme of treason and betrayal against Vidal. The grapes that Ofelia eats are extremely appealing and voluptuously designed, further reinforcing the temptation they represent.
There are potential parallels between the antagonistic forces of Vidal and the Pale Man respectively. While the captain consumes baby rabbits, the Pale Man devours children which reinforces them as demonic and remorseless. The Pale Man’s hands are also bloodstained, once again linking to Macbeth and the act of betrayal. The fairies’ deaths are extremely brutal and graphic, their blood gushes into the Pale Man’s mouth. This symbolises the death of innocence and whimsicality the fascists enforce. Finally, during the chase sequence, Ofelia’s shoes are focused upon which is a key motif throughout the film.
Editing
The opening scene utilises continuity editing, incorporating a glance object as we cut between Ofelia’s face and her book. At this point, the editing is slow paced which is representative of the calm before the storm. Ofelia’s narration is layered over the edit as a fade transition is incorporated in order to signify the passage of time. There is another glance object between Ofelia and the hourglass, directing the viewer’s attention towards it.
The lair itself has been heavily colour graded in post production, which attributes a hellish quality it. As the camera crabs left to display the copious amount of food, there is another glance object between Ofelia and the feast. As Ofelia observes her surroundings, we alternate between shots that imitate Ofelia’s perspective and objective shots through which we maintain focus on Ofelia.
An example of parallel editing is utilised as we cut between Ofelia adventuring through the lair and the hourglass which ominously displays the amount of time she has left. As Ofelia becomes tempted by the grapes, the camera cuts between Ofelia, the grapes and the Pale Man in order to visualise her mental thought process. After this, the Pale Man begins to place his eyes in his hands during which the pace of the edit is slowed through the use of long takes, which build appropriate anticipation.
As the chase sequence ensues, another instance of parallel editing is implemented to portray the two perspectives of the chase sequence, being the fleeing Ofelia and the pursuing Pale Man. During the chase, the pace of the edit quicks through the use of frequent cuts in order to create a sense of urgency. As the door to the real world closes, there is a reactionary shot which depicts Ofelia’s hopeless expression. One more example of parallel editing alternates between Ofelia running away and the hourglass to further build tension during the chase. Finally, as the door to the lair closes, the pacing of the edit becomes sedate once again in order to signify that the danger is finally over.
Performance
During the opening scene, Ofelia appears to be completely immersed within her fairytale, becoming entranced by the moving illustrations. She also becomes rightly surprised as the chalk astoundingly melts the wall, pushing the door open with ease. These action imply that the normal laws of physics do not apply to the fantasy world.
As Ofelia enters the realm of the Pale Man, her explorative and curious nature is reinforced as she wonders through the corridor. She places the chair down ahead of time which emphasises Ofelia’s forward-thinking attitude. As she reaches the table, Ofelia is mesmerised by the feast and stunned by the motionless Pale Man. The viewer experiences these events at the same time as Ofelia which creates reason for empathy between the viewer and Ofelia.
Ofelia then becomes unnerved by the artistic depictions of violence between the Pale Man and the children, her breathing gradually quickens. She then proceeds to dextrously open the lock, demonstrating her resourceful disposition. Ofelia’s innocence and vulnerability is hinted towards when she is easily tempted by the forbidden grapes. She brashly brushes away the fairies, suggesting that she will happily dismiss the fantasy for a brief moment in order to indulge in a rare luxury. She proceeds to close her eyes as she devours the grape, savouring every morsel which reinforces the harsh conditions that she is forced to live under.
As the Pale Man awakens, it moves slowly and unsteadily which is characteristic of stereotypical fantasy monsters. Doug Jones is an actor typically known for playing monstrous creatures. Through his authentically unnatural performance, the viewer becomes fully immersed within the realm of the Pale Man.
During the chase sequence, Ofelia breathes rapidly which indicates that this is the peak of the tension. She desperately shouts into the corridor as the gateway to reality closes, emphasising her hopeless state of mind. Finally, Ofelia pragmatically seizes the chalk which reinforces her quick-thinking in dire situations.
We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “fig tree sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:30:50-00:38:18). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.
Cinematography
The initial opening wide shot depicts the soldiers travelling on horseback in order to pursue the rebels. The camera pans from left to right, signifying a journey. As we cut to Ofelia’s side, the camera also pans from left to right, implying that she is simultaneously setting out on her own journey. The camera then rests on Ofelia, tracking her movements through the forest as our focused is converged onto her. At this point, the camera is at eye-level with Ofelia which encourages the viewer to empathise with her.
As the camera continues to smoothly glide to track Ofelia, we push back to reveal the fig tree in its entirety – it is reminiscent of uterine imagery. The tree is framed in a manner which makes it appear menacing – it dwarfs Ofelia and the interior is shrouded in darkness, creating mystery. There is then an interesting closeup of Ofelia’s muddied shoes, this being a motif which emanates throughout the film. The fact that her shoes are tarnished implies that Ofelia does not care about how others perceive her, which distances herself from Captain Vidal. There is then a closeup of a nearby tree branch, which signifies its importance to the viewer. This is then confirmed as Ofelia places her clothes on it.
As Ofelia enters the tree, there is a low angle long shot of her standing at the entrance. She is centrally framed and partially obscured by the lighting in order to converge the viewer’s attention onto her silhouette. The darkness of Ofelia’s silhouette is juxtaposed by the vibrant particle fairies which suggests that she is entering the Underground Realm. We then cut back to the exterior, the camera proceeds to pan up and tilt to the right to display a closeup of her abandoned clothes, we can infer that something will happen to it later. As we cut back to the tree’s interior, we alternate between wide shots to showcase the tree’s whimsically designed interior and mid shots that push in closer to Ofelia to display her arduous crawl through the tree. The camera then crabs right to smoothly transition to Vidal and the soldiers.
The camera tilts up to show Vidal dismounting his horse, an ensuing closeup of his shoes opposes the aforementioned Ofelia shoe closeup, which further reinforces him as the main antagonist force Ofelia must overcome. A closeup of the fireplace emphasises its importance to the viewer as Vidal places his hand over it, confirming his suspicions. The camera then arcs into a two shot displaying Vidal and another soldier investigating the area.
As Vidal proceeds to hold up the antibiotic, we cut to a closeup of the bottle being held in his hand. It is perfectly illuminated by the lighting of the forest to emphasises its importance to the viewer. Vidal then proceeds to shout into the forest, during which the camera arcs around him from a variety of angles. An ensuing wide shot tracks the soldiers on horseback attempting to pursue the soldiers, this time panning from right to left. A lowering crane shot pulls our focus towards a group of rebels who are powerfully framed as they have outsmarted the captain.
We then cut back to Ofelia within the tree, during which the camera arcs around her crawling and eventually pushes in on a closeup of her anxious face. It then cuts to a wide shot of the mesmerising cave tunnel which appears to be never-ending. As Ofelia begins to hear grunting, the camera crabs right in order to reveal the giant toad. During the exchange between Ofelia and the toad, there is a quick pan from right to left in order to accurately display the sheer speed of the toad’s tongue. We then cut between a closeup of the toad and a closeup of Ofelia’s reaction as it begins to shed its skin.
The camera then pushes in on the mysterious key which lies upon the frog’s remains. We then cut to a closeup of Ofelia holding it as our focus in diverted towards it, which signifies its valuableness. As we cut back to the outside, there is a closeup of Ofelia’s abandoned clothes, during which the camera pedestals down and then tilts up to reveal Ofelia emerging from the tree. We then pedestal back up as she picks up her clothes. Finally, as the storm ensues and Ofelia is drenched by the rain, she is centrally framed in order to completely focus our attention on her so the viewer can fully empathise with her.
Sound
During the opening shot, the grandiose, patriotic non-diegetic composed score enters the mix. Layered in tandem with the rhythmic galloping of the horses and the soldiers shouting, this emphasises them as an elite domineering force. As we cut to Ofelia, the score becomes more playful and bucolic which reflects her adventurous character. The faint chanting of the soldiers can also be heard low in the mix, reminding the viewer of their omnipresence. As we cross cut between Ofelia and the horses, the score appropriately underscores what is on screen.
The score then lowers in the mix as Ofelia’s diegetic narration begins to rise. Chirping birds and other diegetic forest sounds can also be heard as Ofelia navigates her way through the forest. In addition to this, woodwind instrumentation is added to the score in order to fully immerse the viewer within the setting. As Ofelia arrives at the tree, the score becomes more dramatic by implementing strings to the mix. During the closeup of Ofelia’s clothes, a storm can be heard brewing outside which foreshadows the later torrential downpour. As Ofelia enters the tree, the soundscape is exclusively diegetic. Ominous cave ambience is layered with the sounds of Ofelia crawling and the scuttling of cockroaches.
As we cut to Vidal and the soldiers, a diegetic conversation ensues between them, juxtaposing the dense soundscape of the tree. As Vidal realises that the rebels have recently been in the area, a dissonant non-diegetic stab chord suddenly enters the mix as he lowers his hand in order to reflect his distraught emotions. Vidal then begins to shout, his booming voices is extremely high in the mix and emphatically echoes throughout the forest. This presents him to the viewer as extremely threatening and authoritative.
We then cut back to Ofelia in the cave, during which the ambient cave sounds continue to be heard low in the mix. We then hear a mysterious growl, through which the viewer begins to wonder who or what it might belong to. This enters the mix to juxtapose the subdued ambience of the cave. After the camera crabs to reveal the toad, its distinctive grunts are layered in mix alongside the scuttling of the cockroaches.
As the toad sticks its tongue out, its ensuing grotesque snarls enter the mix at an extreme volume to severely intimidate the viewer. Here, Guillermo del Toro makes apt use of walrus growls and alligator hisses in order to appear menacing. Afterwards, the score becomes more hopeful as Ofelia hatches her plan to outsmart the toad. As the toad’s gelatinous insides begin to exit its body, an overwhelming repulsive sound enters the mix.
The key that lies on top of the toad’s remains receives a distinctive, high pitched fantastical sound in order to emphasises its uniqueness and importance to the viewer. During the proceeding exterior scene after Ofelia picks up her clothes, rain vigorously enters the mix which fills the soundscape. This emphatic use of pathetic fallacy makes us empathise with Ofelia.
Mise-en-scène
During the opening shot, there is an initial stark juxtaposition between the colour palette of the lush, green forest and the steely blue uniforms that are donned by Vidal’s soldiers. This implies that the authoritative Falangist regime is infiltrating the whimsical Underground Realm. Alongside this, the soldiers themselves are all homogeneously dressed, suggesting that they are merely an extension of the captain and have no personality themselves.
The colour palette of the forest is made up of greens and browns, illustrating a fantastical atmosphere. Once again, Ofelia sports traditional fairytale clothing which is extremely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. Her green hair bow and dress compliments the lush greens of the forest. As Ofelia opens her traditionally designed fairytale book, the previously seen particle fairies populate the forest, further reinforcing its fanciful atmosphere. The sunlight is harsh, it blazes down onto the abundant leaves which populate the forest.
As we focus in on the fig tree, it is distinctively modelled and extremely reminiscent of uterine imagery. This could potentially represent Ofelia’s maturity as she continues to persevere through her daring adventure. The magic stones that Ofelia bears are bespoke and distinctively shaped in order to appear important. Ofelia enters the tree wearing her green dress which matches the tree, implying to the viewer that this is her natural habitat.
As we cut to the interior of the tree, the aforementioned particle fairies reside within which emphasises the whimsicality of the area. The tree is also dimly lit, overgrown with branches and covered with mud and cockroaches which implies that it is completely uncharted territory. In addition, the colour palette is made up of darker browns and is much less green than the forest signifying that we are now in the territory of the Underground Realm.
During the ensuing scene with Vidal and the soldiers, the captain’s uniform is once again extremely decorated which reinforces the fact that he holds the authority. When Vidal discovers the antibiotic bottle, it is designed in an extremely tactile and distinctive way and alongside the previously mentioned lighting, this emphasises its importance. Conversely, the lottery ticket held by the soldier is crumpled and deteriorated, implying it is a less important finding than the antibiotic bottle. As the soldiers ride back home, the hidden rebels are less well-dressed than the soldiers in order to reinforce the Falangists’ dominance. However, they still exert a sense of power over the soldiers due to their framing and posture and the fact that they successfully remained hidden from Vidal’s eagle-eyed scrutiny.
As we cut back to Ofelia in the cave, her muddy face makes her appear both adventurous and daring. Additionally, the mud has dried to signify the passing of time. The pathway of the tree appears to be never-ending, which is reflective of Ofelia’s sense of disorientation. The giant toad itself is a physical animatronic, del Toro’s use of a practical effect makes the toad appear more authentic and lifelike.
The toad persistently pulses as Ofelia attempts to console it – this creature is entirely unfamiliar to the viewer. The toad’s death could potentially serve as a metaphor for Ofelia’s dying mother. The regurgitation that exits the frog’s body is reminiscent of afterbirth and this use of visceral imagery to foreshadow later events in the film is extremely typical of del Toro. The mysterious key that lies on top of the frog’s remains is uniquely designed in order to appear significant. As we return outside, the steely blue colour palette returns to accentuate the ongoing storm. The vigorous rain then begins to occur, this classic example of pathetic fallacy reflecting Ofelia’s miserable state of mind.
Editing
The opening scene is graded in a way which accents the sun-drenched forest, as well as the vibrant leaves and trees. Del Toro then implements cross cutting between the soldiers and Ofelia through the use of a hidden cut after a pan to the right. This example of parallel editing informs the audience that these events are occurring simultaneously.
Ofelia’s narration is layered alongside the soldiers’ pursuit of the rebels to emphasise her perspective of the narrative – this is her story. There is another sequence of alternating seamless transitions between the soldiers and Ofelia. These parallel edits are extremely unnoticeable and fully immerse is within both sides of the story. When we see Ofelia next, she stands in a different position to signify the passing of time. As Ofelia solemnly walks towards the fig tree, del Toro implements a variety of long takes from a number of angles which slows the pace of the film to a halt.
As Ofelia enters the cave, the intimate colour grading is maintained, however grittier browns are included to separate the Underground Realm from the forest. There is another hidden cut as the camera crabs right while tracking Ofelia crawling. We transition back to Vidal and the soldiers dismounting their horses.
As Vidal begins to search around for any clues of rebel presence, there is a glance object between the captain and the antibiotics in order to focus the viewer’s attention on this object. During the sequence, the pacing is initially slow but gradually rises as we frequently cut to a number of angles as Vidal’s booming voice echoes throughout the forest. There is another hidden cut to transition back to the tree, the camera movement remains identical as it crabs left.
During the exchange between Ofelia and the toad, there is a shot reverse shot sequence in order to maintain continuity editing. Although the toad itself is an animatronic, its tongue is created through the use of CGI in post-production. This genre staple creates fluidity within the frog’s agile tongue movements. There is a glance object between Ofelia and the cockroach in her hand to inform the viewer of her cunning plan to overcome the toad.
Performance
The Falangist soldiers ardently ride out into the forest on horseback, loudly commanding the horses. As we transition to Ofelia in the forest, she carefully opens the fairy tale book and instantaneously becomes immersed within it, emphasising her imaginative nature. As she pensively walks towards the fig tree, Ofelia’s explorative nature is reinforced as she confidently narrates the fairy tale making the viewer question whether the fantasy is real or if it just a figment of her imagination.
As we transition to Vidal, his stern expression and measured demeanour reinforces his position of power. The two soldiers he is accompanied by act subserviently – they do not speak unless they are spoken to. For example, the solider immediately takes the bag from Vidal as he is handed it. As the captain is informed of the forgotten lottery ticket, he appears to act obliviously towards it, reinforcing his uncaring attitude.
His ensuing hand gesture immediately silences the soldiers, informing the viewer that he is used to being obeyed. Vidal’s booming, masculine voice echoes throughout the woods emphatically, instilling fear in the viewer. As the fascists ride away, the rebel group stand majestically silently informing the viewer that they have outsmarted the captain.
As we cut back to Ofelia in the cave, her persistent heavy breathing implies that she is extremely nervous about exploring the tree. During her exchange with the toad, she addresses it as she would a human in order to reassure herself that she isn’t afraid of it. As the toad begins to growl at her, Ofelia continues to stand her ground in the face of danger – she doesn’t cower or show fear in any way. As Ofelia realises how to outsmart the toad, she smirks which reinforces her quick thinking and pragmatic nature to the viewer. She grimaces as the toad eats the insect out of her hand, although there is a sense of accomplishment in her facial expression, highlighting the fact she has outsmarted the toad.
Ofelia nervously reaches out to pick up the enigmatic key, she appears to be completely mystified by it. As she steps outside, her heavy breathing continues implying that she hasn’t overcome every challenge just yet. Finally, rain then begins to fall, during which a look of utter despair is inscribed onto Ofelia’s face. The viewer can fully empathise her at this point as they have followed her entire journey up to this point.
We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the “first shaving sequence” of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:24:36-00:26:13). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.
Cinematography
The scene opens on a closeup of the gramophone, silently informing us that music is about to start playing. The camera then fluidly tracks the movement of Vidal’s hand as he gingerly picks up his cutthroat blade. As the camera tilts upwards, our attention is pulled from the record player and is now focused on the captain’s face. As Vidal begins to walk towards the mirror, the camera transitions from a mid shot to a long shot, in order to display the surroundings. After a transition, the camera proceeds to arc around the captain and eventually pushes in on his face to present a mid-closeup of him meticulously applying shaving cream to his face. We then cut to an uncomfortable closeup of the captain shaving precisely with temporal focus. The final shot of the scene is a long shot, depicting the full scale of Vidal’s mechanically designed lair.
During the proceeding scene, the lighting becomes warmer which emphasises the fact that we are now in the presence of Mercedes. During the ensuing conversation between Vidal and Mercedes, the camera pedestals up to portray Vidal as having a more powerful position over her. As the captain reaches out to touch her shoulder, the two are framed claustrophobically which presents the captain as extremely threatening.
Sound
The first sound heard is the diegetic audio of the gramophone which is high in the mix. The chosen piece is “Soy un pobre presidiario” by Antonio Molina, a piece extremely evocative of the time period and one which oozes Spanish patriotism.
The song continues to play as Vidal applies shaving foam to his face, to which a diegetic brushstroke-like sound is layered in the mix. He then picks up the cutthroat razor, during which a universally recognisable “sharp metallic object” sound plays to emphasise to the viewer the precision with which the captain exerts during shaving. As the music ascends to fanfare-like crescendo, Vidal’s posture is reminiscent of a matador, further reinforcing his macho demeanour.
Mise-en-scène
At the beginning of the scene, we are greeted to a number of luxury items owned by Vidal. These include the gramophone, cigarettes and a deluxe cutthroat razor blade. These items reinforce the fact that the captain rules the hierarchy and therefore, the distribution of goods.
The razor blade itself is an accurate reflection of Vidal’s personality, requiring acute precision and diligence. The desk on which the shaving equipment lies is extremely cluttered, informing the viewer that this is the centre of Vidal’s command. The surroundings presented are reflective of Vidal’s mechanical disposition, the cog-like water wheels implying that he is a moving part of a bigger machine.
The surroundings presented are reflective of Vidal’s mechanical disposition, the cog-like water wheels implying that he is a moving part of a bigger machine. After we cut to a new scene, Vidal’s uniform is neatly presented and buttoned up as he addresses Mercedes. In addition to this, the interior is designed in a way which is extremely reminiscent of the “Pale Man room” which appears later in the film. This is one of many examples of subtle foreshadowing implemented by Guillermo del Toro throughout the film.
Editing
The scene opens on an initial long take as the captain picks up the cutthroat blade and walks towards the mirror. There is then an example of temporal editing, as the hidden cut signifies that an amount of time has passed between the transitions. After the transition, the camera is positioned in front of Vidal which is physically impossible if the camera kept moving in the same direction which it appears to be doing. As the captain dips his razor in the water, there is a glance object to focus our attention on the razor itself. The pacing throughout this sequence is relatively fast, matching the tempo of the music. As Vidal finishes shaving, there is an abrupt jump cut as the music comes to a final climax.
During the next scene, there is another glance object as Vidal looks at his boot while scrubbing it. During the conversation between Vidal and Mercedes, del Toro employs standard continuity editing techniques. These include shot/reverse shot sequences between the two characters as well as an eye line match. Additionally, the pace of the edit slows during their conversation in order to create a calmer atmosphere after the lively shaving sequence.
Performance
As the scene begins, Vidal’s movements are extremely precise and fluid as he glides his hand towards the razor. He moves meticulously to the carefully selected music and it becomes clear to the viewer that he treats the act of shaving as a divine ritual, emphasising his masculinity. It could also be noted that Vidal is shaving unnecessarily as he appears to be clean shaven. This potentially implies that Vidal views shaving as a form of detoxing to separate himself from his arduous pursuit of the rebels. It is also worth noting that a significant amount of time has passed during the process of shaving, due to the fact that his cigarette has become a stub by the time he has completed his shaving ritual.
During Vidal and Mercedes’ conversation, she appears to act as a mother figure towards Vidal, as she seems to be the only character to oppose him. In turn, this foreshadows her future defiance against Vidal later in the film. As Mercedes steps into the kitchen, each character seems to be more relaxed outside of the captain’s presence, which ultimately creates an untroubled atmosphere.
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.
We were tasked to analyse the key elements of film form of the opening sequence of Pan’s Labyrinth (00:00:00-00:05:52). This involved a detailed analysis of cinematography, sound, mise-en-scène, editing and performance during this sequence.
Cinematography
After the credits, the film opens on a crab shot of Ofelia dying in reverse – this could be considered to be a circular narrative seeing as this scene also appears in the final act. The film uses a blue colour palette to emphasise the harsh reality of the real world. The camera then pushes into her eye and into the Underground Realm. In actuality, this entire sequence is in reverse. This means that the film actually opens on an extreme closeup of Ofelia’s iris, through which the camera then pulls out and then pedestals down.
The camera then glides in an ethereal and mystical manner, crabbing right and pushing in through the entrance. Through the use of tilting, a free-flowing camera movement is created which emphasises the fantastical nature of the realm. At the surface of the tower, overexposure is utilised to create a bright, overwhelming light to represent Ofelia’s erased memory.
It is here that the three main colour palettes used throughout the film are established. The sun kissed gold, the steely blue palette and the green forest palette. Each of these palettes truly encapsulates the atmospheres created by each respective setting and Guillermo del Toro meticulously emphasises the use of visual storytelling throughout Pan’s Labyrinth.
After the time period shift, the camera then continues to glide – specifically tracking the movement of the cars. Through a sequence of selected shots, we are immersed into the story. After an establishing shot, we cut to a closeup of Ofelia’s fairy tale book, specifically Alice in Wonderland. This specific fairy tale is often referenced throughout the film and this shot establishes it. We then cut between a two-shot of Ofelia and Carmen and various closeups of both characters. Ofelia is always positioned closer to the camera to emphasise her greater importance to the story.
We then cut to a long shot of the cars coming to a halt, in which the particle-like fairies make an appearance. These sparkling pixies have connotations of the underground realm and are visually intriguing to the viewer. The camera proceeds to track Ofelia’s curious movements which further establishes her as the central character. We then focus in on the mysteriously shaped rock and through the use of an over-the-shoulder shot we learn that it is emblazoned with an eye. The camera continues to track Ofelia’s movements as she stumbles upon the overgrown statue. It then cuts to a two-shot of Ofelia and the statue, suggesting that the statue is in fact a character itself.
As Ofelia places the mysteriously emblazoned rock in the eyehole, the camera focuses in on the mouth. Through this, del Toro focuses the viewer’s attention on this specific area for the mild jumpscare that follows as the skittery insect makes its appearance. The camera positions itself at Ofelia’s eye level, which once again reiterates her great importance as a character. Del Toro then utilises a focus pull as our attention is diverged from Ofelia to the insect. An ensuing arc shot then tracks the erratic movements of this enigmatic insect as we view the Falangist vehicles from its perspective.
Finally, we are introduced to the main antagonist of the film, Captain Vidal, through a closeup of his cracked watch – yet another reference to Alice in Wonderland. His meticulous and mechanical demeanour is first established through this closeup. It is interesting to make note of the fact that both Ofelia and Vidal are introduced to the viewer through the use of a closeup of an inanimate object, being the fairy tale book and watch respectively.
Sound
The opening credits begin with silence, immediately focusing the audience’s attention. Afterwards, there is a gradual rise in the mix of natural diegetic wind ambience. This ambience is then layered with a peaceful humming lullaby, a reoccurring motif throughout the film. This juxtaposes Ofelia’s ominous dying breaths which are also gradually layered into the mix. As the reverse sequence ensues, an accompanying piano is gradually added to the mix. Through this, an eerie and pensive attitude is created by del Toro.
As we witness Ofelia brutally dying in reverse, non-diegetic narration enters the mix. This explains to the viewer the required expositional information involving the lost princess’ connection to Ofelia. A subtle non-diegetic whoosh sound plays as we push into Ofelia’s eye, which marks the transition into the Underground Realm. The non-diegetic orchestral score throughout the following sequence establishes an angelic and ethereal atmosphere. The jarring squawk of the crows juxtapose this, implying a sense of dissonance throughout the realm.
A subtle non-diegetic swoosh distinguishes the return to reality as a choral score is gradually layered in the mix. As the cars drive past, we hear the diegetic engines as we cut to Ofelia and Carmen within one of the Falangist vehicles. During the closeup of Ofelia’s book, a diegetic page turn focuses our attention towards this. The sound is entirely diegetic throughout the car scene.
As Ofelia steps out of the car, the background dialogue lowers in the mix as Ofelia moves further away from the soldiers. The viewer only hears sound that is relevant to Ofelia, the protagonist, to highlight her importance. During Ofelia’s curious exploration, she stumbles upon a rock which receives extremely distinctive and recognisable sounds. A gentle non-diegetic piano score enters the mix as Ofelia picks the rock up, emphasising the significance it holds to the Underground Realm. Here, del Toro establishes a recognisable sonic link between the use of piano and the labyrinth realm.
As Ofelia inspects the rock, a diegetic ominous wind enters the mix in combination with more sombre and lower instrumentation – specifically the use of a cello. The low strings of the cello represents a tonal shift as the mysterious rock continues to provoke questions in Ofelia’s mind. As Ofelia places the rock in the statue, we hear a tactile noise that confirms its placement.
When the insect appears out of the statue’s mouth, diegetic skittering sounds enters the mix which implies to the viewer that the insect could potentially pose a threat to Ofelia. Afterwards, Ofelia is dragged back to reality and subsequently, the soundscape of the Underground Realm gradually lowers in the mix. The sound of the insect is layered with the vehicles which remains at a constant level as the diegetic sound of the vehicles gradually lower in the mix. Subsequently, the sound bridge connects the vehicles to Vidal through the use of a J cut as we hear the ticking of the captain’s watch before we cut to it.
Mise-en-scène
The film opens with credits presented in a ancient-looking font, which establishes the film’s tone. As Ofelia dies in reverse, the crimson blood flowing backwards creates an initial enigma for the viewer. The Underground Realm is depicted as behind Ofelia’s eye which emphasises her importance to it.
The Underground Realm itself has an extremely cold colour palette, predominantly steely dark blues. The realm contains lots of ancient architecture, illustrating a gothic and mystical vista. As the camera tilts up, the sunlight glares from above which is relatively jarring – representative the time shift. The surface is illuminated in gold and we can clearly see that the area has been destroyed by the ongoing guerrilla warfare.
As we cut to Ofelia in the car, the initial shot is a closeup of a traditionally designed fairy tale book. Ofelia and her mother both wear traditional 1940s clothing, consisting of a beret and a waistcoat. The forest that the vehicles enter is extremely lush and luxuriant – it also matches Ofelia’s green clothing. The Falangist vehicles are also appropriately selected to match the time period.
The aforementioned eye rock is meticulously shaped and framed to fully capture the viewer’s attention. Moreover, the previously discussed particle fairies surround the mysterious statue, which suggests that it holds great significance to the labyrinth realm. The statue itself is overgrown which implies that it has been untouched for many years. The “key and lock motif” which features prominently throughout the film is first established here when Ofelia places the rock into the statue.
As we enter the mill, the soldiers each wear historically accurate uniforms embossed with the Falangist insignia which reflects the presence of the fascist regime during this time period. The object of shoes are also first mentioned here – yet another key motif featured throughout the film. The mill itself is architecturally run down and exposed, emphasising the Falangists’ authoritative control of the area. It is also surrounded by an abundance of militaristic equipment which further reinforces this, as well as the fact that Ofelia is entering an area of violence.
The object of Vidal’s watch is closely focused upon, emphasising its importance to him. The fact that it is extremely distinctive and cracked suggests its significance, it is also reflective of his character. Captain Vidal’s clothing is extremely decorated, signifying his authority. He also dons black leather gloves which make him appear menacing.
Editing
After the credits, the film opens on a title card containing the contextual information of the Spanish Civil War which is required for the full enjoyment of the film. We then fade from black into the opening crab shot. As the sequence plays in reverse, the underground realm matches the graphic of Ofelia’s iris. During the Underground Realm sequence, the Princess is superimposed while running across the landscape which attributes a floaty, mystical quality to her movement. Through the use of meticulous colour grading, the employed steely blues illustrate a cold and moody atmosphere.
Del Toro then uses a fade to white transition followed by a frame from white transition to indicate the transportation to the real world. The subsequent golden, sun kissed colour grading juxtaposes the previous palette which emphasises the change in location. In addition, the implementation of a cross-fade establishes the time period shift. During the car scene, continuity editing is used during Ofelia and Carmen’s conversation. Throughout this sequence, multiple shot/reverse shots are employed and the 180º rule is obeyed.
The particle fairies featured in the woods are theatrical as well as genre-appropriate. During the forest scene Del Toro uses long takes to establish a slow pace throughout. There is a glance object when Ofelia picks up the rock, which is then followed by a closeup of said rock. Alongside this, there is a reactionary shot of Ofelia after she witness the appearance of the insect
We transition to the captain at the mill through the use of a J cut. We hear the ticking of the watch before we cut to it. At this point, there is a reverse glance object as we see Vidal’s watch followed by the captain himself. Afterwards, there is an establishing wide shot which allows the viewer to get a sense of their surroundings.
Performance
As the viewer witness Ofelia dying in reverse, we hear her feeble dying breaths which make her appear vulnerable and weak. Through this, Ofelia immediately receives the viewer’s sympathy. Afterwards, the expositional narration is sincere and measured – aptly informing the viewer of the backstory involving the Princess Moanna and the Underground Realm.
During the car sequence, both actors give naturalistic performances. Ofelia keeps a firm grip on the book, implying that she has a profound affinity for the many fairy tales she reads. As Carmen experiences pregnancy sickness, her emotional performance causes the viewer to empathise with her pain.
Ofelia’s explorative and fearless nature is emphasised through her immediate initiative to explore the forest. Her curious expression reiterates this. During the insect’s appearance, Ofelia’s nonchalant expressions shifts to one of wonder and intrigue. This suggests that she is not afraid of the insect but mystified by its enigmatic presence.
As we are introduced to Captain Vidal, his precise and calculated movements suggest he is a malicious presence. His upright posture and stern demeanour reinforce this.
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.
The “ZZ”
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
Throughout the film, Wes Anderson utilises a number of techniques in order to illustrate intriguing and enthralling aesthetics throughout.
Primarily, the implementation of three different aspect ratios create a distinctive aesthetic throughout the film. Anderson utilises a different aspect ratio to represent each time period. These include 1.37:1 (1932), 2.4:1 (1968) and 1.85:1 (1985). In effect, this subtly informs the viewer of the current scene’s time period.
Each aspect ratio was carefully chosen in order to accurately reflect the time period in which it represents. Beginning in the 1980s, the film utilises a standard widescreen aspect ratio which was typical of film during that specific time period. During the 1960s section, an anamorphic aspect ratio is implemented in order to indicate a sense of comfort and luxury during this point in Zero’s life. Finally, the majority of the film takes place during the 1930s in which the vintage ‘Academy Ratio’ is utilised to authentically represent the Golden Age of cinema during this time.
Aspect ratios within The Grand Budapest Hotel
Another aesthetic Anderson utilises is an enchanting colour palette. Making apt use of cremes, pinks, reds and beiges, Anderson diligently illustrates a vibrant and distinctive colour palette which astutely complements the film’s narrative and style.
In addition to this, the film intelligently makes use of zeitgeist in order to reiterate the time period as well as the opulence and aristocracy associated with it. Each and every costume worn by the actors is meticulously selected to insinuate a sense of authenticity.
Colour palette and costume within The Grand Budapest Hotel
Characteristic of Wes Anderson’s filmography, The Grand Budapest Hotel features a highly stylised utilisation of symmetry and framing. Throughout the film, Anderson typically establishes a symmetrically composed frame, through which a character or object will then enter. The viewer’s attention is then focused towards this object which is almost always centrally framed.
We were tasked to analyse the mise-en-scène from the 5th chapter of The Grand Budapest Hotel. In class, we discussed the partial and complete control of environment throughout the chapter.
Chapter 5: Lobby
It is important to establish the two key intentions the director attempted to achieve through the use of mise-en-scène throughout this sequence. Firstly, Wes Anderson’s first intended aim is to illustrate the opulence and grandeur of the hotel itself, emphasising the upper-class society of the time period. Secondly, Anderson attempts to present Gustave as an authoritative and self-assured figurehead through the use of mise-en-scène throughout.
From the very start, Gustave can be described as well-presented, well-groomed and polished. He dons an extravagant purple suit and bow tie and sports a meticulously slicked hairstyle, as well as a prominent moustache. All of this contributes to Gustave being perceived as a well-respected concierge in addition to being a member of aristocratic society. On the other hand, Zero dons a similar – albeit slightly askew – outfit, this is exemplified by a lop-sided “Lobby Boy” hat, as well as a fake moustache.
During the first scene of this chapter, Anderson utilises a range of flamboyant colours to reiterate the lavishness of the hotel itself. These include cremes, pinks and beiges as well as a generally snowy environment. Moreover, the lettering of the hotel sign is emblazoned in a flashy gold trimming which captures the audience’s attention.
Our first look at Gustave and Zero
During Gustave and Zero’s conversation, we cut to an appropriately dressed upper-class man having his shoes shined by a crippled working class boy, who is pictured as having scraggy clothes and dirty shoes. This emphasises the social divide presented to the viewer throughout the film. Moreover, the wagons parked outside the hotel contain a bountiful amount of luggage which purports a sense of immense popularity within the hotel.
Social hierarchy in The Grand Budapest Hotel
Inside the hotel, the interior is furnished with a vast array of luxurious decor, examples of which include crimson carpets and imported exotic plants. In addition, the entire lobby is grandly illuminated and every guest is well-presented and respectably dressed. There is a juxtaposition created between the wealth of the hotel and the mundanity of the workers’ duties.
During Zero’s interview, Gustave immediately deals with the multitude of interruptions by the hotel staff. Each staff member immediately moves out of Gustave’s way and astutely answers to his beck and call. This contextualises Gustave as a well-respected concierge and a force to be reckoned with.
Lavish costume and set design within The Grand Budapest Hotel
The Grand Budapest Hotel(Wes Anderson, 2014)is a crime/comedy detailing the adventure of an eccentric concierge and his newly befriended lobby boy protégé. The film contains an ensemble cast containing the likes of Ralph Fiennes, Bill Murray, Edward Norton and Saoirse Ronan to name but a few.
Grand Budapest poster
We follow an unnamed author (Jude Law) who is interviewing Zero – the owner of the prestigious Grand Budapest. We learn the story of M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), the famed concierge of the hotel and a young Zero (Gustave’s newly appointed protégé) in a daring and adventurous rags to riches quest.
Wes Anderson uses many interesting techniques throughout the film. Firstly, the narrative structure of the film is nonlinear as we flick back and forth between three key time periods: 1932, 1968 and 1985. Anderson expertly makes use of three different aspect ratios for each time period in order to subtly inform the viewer when each on-screen event is taking place.
Use of aspect ratios in The Grand Budapest Hotel
The film’s aesthetics are enchanting throughout. Anderson makes full use of the key elements of film form, predominantly the cinematography and mise-en-scène to produce a emphatic and flamboyant impact.
Use of cinematography, framing and mise-en-scène
Being only 7 years old at the time of writing, The Grand Budapest Hotel will surely become a cult classic in the future. The filmmaking is nothing short of masterclass and each shot of the film could be a framed piece of artwork. Wes Anderson’s legacy will surely inspire aspiring auteurs to shape the future of cinema.
The film explores themes of class and wealth throughout, emphasising the occupants of the hotel as being members of upper-class society and illustrating the employees as subservient.
Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Grand Budapest Hotel from start to finish. Each shot was visually breathtaking and the all-star ensemble cast were a joy to witness on-screen. However, I do personally believe that the plot at some points delved into the realm of being ‘convoluted for the sake of complexity’. Additionally, in my opinion, a large part of the film’s selling point is the eclectic cast and I think it would not be as critically acclaimed without it. In saying that, I would highly recommend the film to anyone purely from the aesthetics alone.
My favourite sequence would perhaps be the fantastic ski chase scene. Anderson intelligently makes use of many filmic elements – particularly editing and special effects to construct a tense and enthralling sequence.
Ski chase scene
Overall, I would rate The Grand Budapest Hotel ★★★★.
Aesthetics can be defined as the general look, mood and feel of a film stylised by the film’s key elements. In the context of an exam, this entails discussing the five key elements of film together – as opposed to focusing in on a single element.
We were tasked to rewatch the opening scene of City of God and in small groups were assigned to comment on one particular element of film form. In my group, we were assigned the element of mise-en-scène.
After sharing our ideas with the rest of the class, we compiled the ideas into a mind map.
Dune (2021, Denis Villeneuve) is the first instalment of a sci-fi epic based on the classic 1965 novel of the same name written by Frank Herbert. With an all-star cast including Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson and Oscar Isaac bringing stellar performances to the table, Dune establishes an excellent foundation for Villeneuve to build upon in the future.
Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet)
The central protagonist of Dune is Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto who rules House Atreides, who have just been granted the desert planet Arrakis. Arrakis (otherwise known as Dune) is habitat to the most valuable commodity in the universe, the spice Melange which preserves life and makes interstellar travel possible. Whoever controls Arrakis controls the spice, and whoever controls the spice controls the universe.
Dune is a profound visual spectacle, with every shot being meticulously crafted and visually intriguing. Villeneuve and Greig Fraser (cinematographer) cleverly utilise both practical effects and CGI to create the perfect blend of tactility and visual flair.
Arrakis
From an auditory standpoint, Dune also excels. Villeneuve diligently uses emphatic diegetic sound such as the sand thumpers and ripples and powerful non-diegetic sound, such as Hans Zimmer’s expertly composed score. In an interview, Villeneuve expressed that he utilised Zimmer’s majestic score to replicate the heavy use of character internalisation by Frank Herbert in the original source material.
Hans Zimmer
The film does, however, suffer from a few minor pacing issues. Being the first instalment of a larger franchise, Dune requires a significant amount of exposition and world-building in order to honour the legacy of the novel, which in some aspects hinders its ability to produce a compelling narrative akin to other ‘first films’ such as A New Hope or The Fellowship of the Ring. Other filmmakers in the past such as David Lynch have failed to accurately replicate the essence of Herbert’s ‘unfilmable’ epic, merely acting as a highlight reel of the events of the novel.
Overall, Dune is a fantastic sci-fi adventure which excels in the areas of cinematography, sound design, performance and mise-en-scène and I thoroughly await the newly-confirmed second instalment.
Otis Morley’s A-Level Film Studies Blog 
You must be logged in to post a comment.