Unscripted expands a scene

The Men Who Wasn't there

by the Cohen Brothers

Early on in “The Man Who Wasn’t There” script there is a scene with Doris and Ed “entertaining” Dave and his wife Ann (the picture above).  After the set up it continues in the following way: 

DAVE 

Japs had us pinned down in Buna for something like six weeks. Well, I gotta tell ya, I thought *we* had it tough, but, Jesus, we had supply. *They* were eating grubs, nuts, thistles. When we finally up and bust off the beach we found Arnie Bragg, kid missing on recon; the Japs had *eaten* the sonofabitch, if you'll pardon the, uh... And this was a scrawny, pimply kid too, nothin' to write home about. I mean, I never would've, ya know, so what do I say, honey? When I don't like dinner, what do I say?

Ann smiles wanly.

DAVE 

...I say, Jesus, honey, Arnie 

Bragg--*again*?! 

He roars with laughter.

Ed gives an acknowledging smile.

DAVE 

...Arnie Bragg--*again*?!

He dries his eyes with the corner of a napkin.

In the film, as directed, it is Doris’ scene.  On the screen it is her who with laud laughter approvingly comments Dave’s jokes.  There is no question she is for him.  In this moment and most likely in every other way possible. Clearly they must be lovers.  Moreover through her reactions (and the way they are framed, shot and timed of course) the scene becomes the Doris’s scene. 

It is a great example how the unscripted reaction can significantly expand a scene. 

Barbers

The Man Who Wasn't There, 

by the Coen Brothers. 

By some strange turn of events I saw that truly brilliant film only a few nights ago.   As  a clever allegory for modernity and the storytelling itself it made a huge impression on me:

  

The elegy for a broken civilization 

camouflaged in a stylish and fancy package.  

Inertia.  It comes from laziness.  

The man who wasn't there.  

Many men weren’t there. 

Many aren’t.

Many won’t.   

All of them absent. 

Broken.  

Withdrawn.

If they are not weak, they are fools.  

If they are specially gifted, they are very rare and almost freaks. 

Everything hurts with its lack of satisfaction, 

passion and fulfillment. 

The only fleeting moment of relief 

is delivered by a long dead music genius 

or a fresh young girl unaware of brutal future 

waiting for everyone.  

The future that the barber already knows. 

The future of loss, laziness, fear and paralysis. 

UFOs and their pathetic attempts to make sense.

Please!

How idiotic.  Or could it be true?

All brainwashed.  Alcohol.  Booze.   Daily drudgery.    

“Throughout all that 

we cut the hair”. 

Futility.   Despair.  

“There is not “what happened”.  Looking at something changes it.”  The Heisenberg Principle in life.

“Science, perception, reality, doubt.  Reasonable doubt.  The more you look, the less you really know.  

That’s a fact.  The only fact that is.”  

Freddie delivers the big speech.  As if an Alien bathed in light.  

Could that mean that all (true) answers are absurd?  Not from this world?

“The more we know the less we know.”

The style tries to catch up with the story and by design fails to do so.  

It happens that way because the film is also about the inability

to contain the truth within a genre.  

The Heisenberg Principle in storytelling.  

The characters as the prisoners of style.  

Ed is seemingly cool.  

In reality he is miserable and scared shitless.  

He wants out of his style.  That’s why he extends himself toward Birdy. 

But Ed Crane can’t escape to be a barber.  

When he waits for Birdy to finish her audition 

he does not see young boys waiting against the opposite wall.  

He only sees their hairdos.  

Then he learns that the girl does not have a soul to be a pianist.  

Does he have a soul?

Just before he is executed his perception is again only that of a barber. 

(Even though earlier he saw a UFO!)

Just like a filmmaker, he can’t escape his tools. 

A man who finally learns to accept 

that his identity is his job.  

That’s the best he can do.  

Ironic.  

Sad. 

Modern. 

Reincarnation is hard

Cloud Atlas 

directed by the Wachowski siblings and Tom Tykwer

Having suffered through two movies that deal with the subject of reincarnation ( “Cloud Atlas” directly, “The Master” through one of its characters) I can’t restrain myself any longer. The hubris of some storytellers!

If there is something complex and mysterious going on in our world most of us flatten and vulgarize it by subscribing to a reductionist, comic view of the migration of consciousness. The reductionist reincarnation theory (a soul gets plopped into a body after body) becomes particularly ridiculous when portrayed in a film like “Cloud Atlas”.

Due to the limitations of the film medium the concept of the migration has to be illustrated either by the same actor playing various host-bodies or by displaying telling, particular mannerisms with different actors playing the same soul. While the latter seems more sophisticated, the former is just painful to watch, regardless of the quality of acting.

The meaning of life, universe and it all most of the time kicks hard in their butts those who dare to uncover it on film. Even very good filmmakers like Terrence Malick (“The Three of Life”) or Darren Aranofsky (“The Fountain”) got strong bruises from the encounters with the number 44. Both however have under their belts other films that I consider perfect.

The same goes for Paul Thomas Anderson who on my best films ever list has two (“Magnolia”, “There will be blood”.) Not so with “The Master”. Although PTA does not talk about reincarnation there and only uses it as a suspicious obsession of the titled hero I suspect that the mess that the film is in could be the revenge of the number 44.   The revenge of reincarnation called in vein, if you will.

Who does it right than?  For sure Kubrick in “2001”, Kieslowski in “Red” and perhaps in “Double life of Veronique”.

A clean shirt for dirt digging

"Aftermath" (Pokłosie)

written and directed by Władyslaw Pasikowski

I have some general comments on the issue of realism in moviemaking. The comments spring from a recent media discussion around “The Aftermath” (Pokłosie).  If you plan to see this film (and you should) read this post only afterwards since it contains spoilers. 

THE BACKGROUND  

“The Aftermath” set in the present day, follows two brothers as they discover that during the Second World War their father led other villagers to burn 20 local Jewish families.  The brotherly search corresponds with the growing anger from the locals who want to keep the past secret. 

The reception of the film in some Polish media to a large degree unfortunately mirrors the plot: the locals don’t want the truth to be revealed.  The critics, either being dumb or playing dumb, among many accusations fire up the charges that one of the brothers (the one visiting the village) constantly washes his only shirt and does so even knowing that in a few hours will be digging the mud at night.  Furthermore they find if impossible that the other brother could by himself assemble many heavy Jewish tombstones on his field.  Finally, the climactic crucifixion of that brother committed by his neighbors as the revenge for his discovery made one of the critics “laugh”, due to its, I guess, unrealism and the lack of logic (if the antisemitic villagers kill the brother as the punishment for him uncovering their dirty past they should not kill him in the manner that refers to the suffering of Jesus Christ)

THE COMMENTS 

What are movies?  Are they the 1:1 depiction of reality?  Are they platforms on which storytellers show what they think about the reality via its selection, manipulation and re-arrangements of its elements?  

Are we supposed to look for the world on the screen as we know if or to treat the screen as a tool to say something about the subject being presented there?

What is the reality on screen?  Is it something that is meant to conform our way of seeing the world outside of us and inside of us?  Or something to show us the unknown aspect of our perception?  

What’s the purpose of us seeking the magic of moving images?  To conform?  To amuse?  To buckle?  To stimulate?  To sedate?  

So what’s about “improbable” moving of heavy matzevahs accomplished by one person, about the crucifixion of “the traitor” by the Christian community or about washing a white shirt just before digging for the grave?   Let’s focus on the white shirt as an example of a connection between storytelling and our sense of reality. 

If we are to tell a story about something that resembles a dark, almost ritualistic journey to self-discovery would it not be appropriate (or at least artistically possible) to have a hero behave as if he subconsciously was expecting or anticipating the significance of his actions?  For example through constant washing of his only white shirt, as if getting ready for some important discovery, as if knowing that the upcoming events are so “holy” that he needs to be in his best to face them.  

At one point watching the film I indeed wondered “why does he wash his white shirt” instead of borrowing something to wear from his brother.   The questions kept lingering in my mind until the hero (in his white shirt) digging in the mud and dirtying himself came face to face with the shattering and “dirtying” truth.  The “white shirt” realism in this case is a subject to directorial manipulation.  Preparing “this is plausible” or “this is not plausible” reaction to a given scene is therefore an important tool in designing the overall emotional ride of the story.  I think the trick is to do it in such a way that the white shirt washing must be timed in such a way as not to slow down the storytelling and yet to plant a question in a viewer mind.  That question will find its answer and conclusion when the hero reaches the destination of his journey.  Such a read assumes that there was something within the subconsciousness of visiting brother that corresponded with his final finding.   

Analysis of the climatic crucifixion in “The Aftermath” would take more time since it is more daring and complex narrative maneuver.  The “realism” of this scene was a subject of media debates where some attacked the scene by saying that recently there were no cases of murders by crucifixion (this was spoken be proud right wing critics accusing the film of lies) while others would dig out the fact that indeed a few years ago there was a case of such a murder (the motives were unrelated to racial hate).   

Listening to those debates makes my stomach turn.  Let me just say that I found “the crucifixion scene” properly chilling and provocative.     

Moviemaking will save the day!

"Argo", written by Chris Terrio 

directed by Ben Affleck

“Argo” is a fantastic film.  Beautifully crafted and basically fueled by “will they make it” question, at the same time carries a few messages that contradict each other, which is not a criticism since that’s how the modern culture operates.    

In “Argo”, Hollywood, even in its BS mode rules big time.  It transcends borders, softens wars, saves lives and on top of it all delivers entertainment.

In our culture moviemaking Hollywood style storytelling almost replaces ancient Olympic games as the activity that can temporarily impose peace.    

At the same time moviemaking is a cultural Trojan horse.  Of that the Iraqis in “Argo” are well aware, yet they fall into a Hollywood/CIA trap.  

If fiction serves as a tool to create reality, is reality based on fiction?  

What’s true and what’s false?  

What are the messages forwarded to the public under the disguise of (seemingly) preposterous entertainment? 

Yes, movies will save the day, yet some will also enslave us.  

Which mode prevails is up to us. 

Watching “Amour”

"Amour"
written and directed by Michael Haneke

             When empathy is impossible 

            and any attempt of it 

            would be only obscene. 

First two disclaimers: 

Reading the script I missed a few things.  Of course Georges enters the apartment together with Anne when she returns from the hospital.  Yet he still does not know how to help her.

The way the film is photographed is simply breathtaking.  Darius Khondji is a true maestro and his work needs to be studied in depth.

The hint of how the author chooses to tell the story is contained in Anne’s dialogue.  When she still can, she states:

ANNE

But imagination and reality 

have little in common (...)

and a few lines later:

I can't be bothered

to think about being you.

Haneke directs without “in your face” foreshadowing.  It is a welcoming relief since many masters rely on telling us what will happen and bask in their ability to do it subtly.  In the Hanek’s hand events are told with respect.   Their impenetrability and dignity seem to be the primary concern of the storyteller.  The same goes with to the characters who are treated with maturity, which means they are allowed their independence and are not puppets in the hands of a storyteller.  Correspondingly, the narrating camera does not know in advance what will happen. 

The last point needs to be elaborated upon: of course the film is designed, the shots thought out and the director chooses how to show an event according to its place in the whole story.  An example can be a bravado one shot elaborate opening with the camera floating through rooms, not unlike the best Kubrick moves.  Yet the next scene is filmed in one, wide shot hold for a very, very long time.  Clearly the bravado sets up the stage for the rather unconventional and demanding second shot.  From that moment on we are commanded to watch carefully and not to expect that the director will cater to the vulgarity of the dominating narrative paradigm.  

My previous concerns arising from reading stylistically various scenes turned out to be needless.   Haneke makes all kinds of scenes: the real, the imagined, the metaphorical into one rhythmical tapestry. The rhythm is the kind of this storytelling. 

Actually, if there is a stylistic pattern parallel to “foreshadowing” it is something I would call “after-shadowing”.   It is not a commentary, it is rather only so slight allowance to escape a modicum of accumulated steam.  Enough to create an emotional connection with that which happened previously but not enough to burry the narrative flow with a dreadful “meaning” or “explanation”.  The example of that would be a pigeon. Its meaning is so crystal clear that I am totally flabbergasted by the questions about its role.  It is however crucial that the pigeon comes after the big deed.  Placing this scene before would most likely make everything sentimental and corny.  

To me one of the most devastating scenes is when during breakfast Anne examines the photo album.   None of the scripted words convey the depth of this moment which is a heart breaking farewell to the past.  None shows the complexities of emotions that float through Georges as he witnesses his wife’s behavior.  The way the situation is staged and photographed allows for multiple interpretations of George’s annoyance at this moment.  

In my book this is brilliant directing. 

Reading “Amour”, part four

The next movement is a furious gallop toward the bottom of despair.  The pressure on both of them is palpable.  We even see Georges inner horror illustrated.  Strange, but reads well and is probably very effective on the screen.  She voices the horror straight out.  He explodes when there is no other way and when the self-control fails him.  

And then comes the moment of his action.  As I am reading it the quietness of it is very creepy.  Is it what I am suspecting it is?  Soon it turns out that it was not what I thought it was.  Eve enters the bedroom and sees Anne.  Except five pages later Georges does his very action that the earlier beat suggested (at least to me).  That which was earlier was clearly foreshadowing, indicating something that was brewing inside his psyche.  

Turns out the second half of the script is constructed differently than the first one.  In the second half we have unreal scenery as the representation of the inner space, we have a pigeon which is a poetic opening of the real and explainable into the mysterious and the impossible to put into worlds, we have the usual and almost mandatory in such stories psychic connection or a wishful thinking on somebody’s part.  (That somebody could be Georges, or us, or a narrator).  Finally there is the daughter in the empty apartment, a moment which rather than to explain, further complicates the most basic (what happened) and the most profound (how to handle the drama) questions of the story. 

The purposely unclear and vaguely symbolic elements of the second half do not appear in the first part of the story, which is told in a more straightforward, “you get what you see” fashion.  

The combination of these two approaches invalidates normal, “Hollywood paradigm” analysis of the written script.  The story indicated on the page can’t be reduced to worlds and the arrangement of written events.  It is a non reductionist script writing. 

I am a big fan of Haneke, There are only two movies I can think of that recently have managed to melt the screen for me: one was the original “Funny games” (I haven’t see the remake) and the second was a documentary “Po-lin”.  There is an entry - "The melted screen" - about it on this blog).  

Having read the script I am really curious how Haneke directed it.  Did he go for unity or for jarring?  For poetry or realism?  Combination?  Other ways?  

I suspect (also because of its fame and accolades) that the movie exudes coherence.  The coherence despite the “weird” elements is possible probably because of the otherwise tight  unity of space and limitation of the world depicted to just a few characters.  

Meaning: vagueness works only if has solid grounds or directly addresses some primal mystery, which by default can’t be reduced to an answer.