It's funny, isn't it, that the thing that draws me to the film is the psychology of the main character, while that is the very thing that others feel is lacking in the film. Adrienne says that I project my own ideas onto films, often seeing what isn't there. I can't deny that it happens; I consider myself to be a pretty empathetic person, so it's not typically difficult for me to put myself into a protagonist's shoes. I might be doing that here as well.
I'm thinking of the scene where the guy brings Cobb into his apartment and then watches helplessly and defensively while Cobb pretty much invalidates his whole existence. Insult is added to injury when we later find out that Cobb knew it was his apartment. That scene made me cringe; I felt bad for the guy and it seemed tragic to me that he got caught up in the whole scenario because, essentially, of his lack of social skills and discernment. The guy's not a bad guy, he got with the wrong crowd and didn't have the self-awareness to get himself out in time. He doesn't deserve to go to jail for someone else's crime. He's even barely responsible, in my opinion, for the murder he committed because he was so under Cobb's influence. He's not relatable perhaps because he's barely a person. But this is not necessarily because of poor character development; this is because that is his personailty. And there are people out there without personalities. And I feel sorry for them.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
In Defense of The Avengers
So, really, guys, are you all just totally above something being cool for the sake of its special effects and fun action sequences? I haven't written about The Avengers so far because it's just been a comment here, a comment there. But all of them are amounting to "meh" and the cumulative effect is getting to me. MEH? How can you say "meh" to Thor's hammer striking Captain America's shield and the ear-shattering gong that results? How many times have comics fans wondered what that would sound like if it ever happened in real life? Amazing! How can you say "meh" to the Hulk ripping apart an alien ship, hopping in mid-air from ship to ship to building, wreaking havoc all along the way? How can you say "meh" to Iron Man in the propeller of the Heli-Carrier (the Heli-carrier! In glorious CGI for the first time in a film ever! Awesome!) spinning faster and faster and is he going to get out in time? Did any of you read superhero comics as a kid (I'm pretty sure you did, John, but you were probably cynical about them even then)? Maybe none of you even has any business watching a film like this, or any superhero film for that matter. I LOVED the Avengers and if not for my surgery, might well have gone to the theater to watch it a second time. Whedon does a great job with the dialogue (anyone read any of his work on Astonishing X-Men? Runaways? No?) and has a great sense for the characters, especially when the interact with each other. You get a clear sense that these characters are from different worlds and what they have to overcome to be able to work together to save the world. I read comics because they're fun and I like the characters and the action and the suspense and The Avengers captured that kind of comics reading experience really well. There's not supposed to be gritty realism and grey morality in this kind of movie. It's all bright colors and sacrifice and heroism and saving the world (a modern day western, John?) and Avengers gets all of that right. Bring on the sequel! And you chuckleheads can all stay home. Sheesh. "Meh." Seriously.
Oh, while I'm ranting, why is it okay to hate on films like Transformers? They're fun, they're exciting, they get your adrenaline going, they let you escape your boring existence for a little while. Why is that so wrong? [Okay, I'll admit that I do have some issues on a global responsibility level with the amount of money that goes into making a film like that, but even a modest art film that spends a few million bucks on a picture is still spending money that could feed a hella lot of people. But that's a total digression and I try not to think of it too much. Sigh.] Nevertheless, to call them "shit" when loads of experienced people have worked really hard on sets and designs and costumes and choreography for many months and even years seems to be disrespectful and unfair at the very least. A lot goes into those films and they make a load of money. These people are the best at what they do, even if it's not to my taste. And, yes, I'm still dwelling on those offhanded comments, Jeff. Sorry :P.
I'm gonna get lambasted for this post, I just know it. I love you guys :).
And Inception is freaking brilliant. Possibly Nolan's best creative original endeavor. So there.
Oh, while I'm ranting, why is it okay to hate on films like Transformers? They're fun, they're exciting, they get your adrenaline going, they let you escape your boring existence for a little while. Why is that so wrong? [Okay, I'll admit that I do have some issues on a global responsibility level with the amount of money that goes into making a film like that, but even a modest art film that spends a few million bucks on a picture is still spending money that could feed a hella lot of people. But that's a total digression and I try not to think of it too much. Sigh.] Nevertheless, to call them "shit" when loads of experienced people have worked really hard on sets and designs and costumes and choreography for many months and even years seems to be disrespectful and unfair at the very least. A lot goes into those films and they make a load of money. These people are the best at what they do, even if it's not to my taste. And, yes, I'm still dwelling on those offhanded comments, Jeff. Sorry :P.
I'm gonna get lambasted for this post, I just know it. I love you guys :).
And Inception is freaking brilliant. Possibly Nolan's best creative original endeavor. So there.
Curse of the Cat People
Jeff, my Flixster reviews are often throwaway, depending on how much time I have to write about it. I actually think I might like Curse of the Cat People better than its forbear, mostly die to the little girl. She is such a strange character, living in her weird fantasy world. To some degree, I think I can relate my own childhood to hers. But for a sequel, it's not so impressive, if you're looking for more of the story after the first.
The Poetics of GLASSES
I think my viewing glasses theory fits in very well with Bachelard's Poetics of Space, don't you, Jeff? And I've never even heard of the guy! I love Brandon for championing that analogy, by the way. I feel proud every time he brings it up.
I wonder if my insistence on ignorance when it comes to film is a part of why it so much easier to enjoy it than those of you who read up on reviews before watching. Even after a film, it's more uncommon for me to look up what other people have said about it. Typically if I look something up, it's after some kind of "based on a true story" film to see where the movie differs from reality. Even so, I find that I have preconceived notions going into films that keep me from enjoying them. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is a good example. Genre plus director plus actors plus particular setting all made me think it was going to be a great film, and it was a travesty. I set myself up to be disappointed is what it amounts to. But I think maybe some people enjoy not liking movies (John, Jeff?) and feeling superior to them, so they try to facilitate that whenever possible (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). So I feel pretty determined most of the time to go in ignorant to a film. It's why I like things like Metacritic and Rotten Tomatoes so much. I can get a sense for how the film has been received without needing to know anything about it beforehand.
I LOVED Sara Paxton in The Innkeepers. She felt like such a real person in a way that seems rare in films. Either she's a tremendous actress or that's exactly what she's like in real life. I was really sad when she [SPOILER] dies [END SPOILER] at the end because I liked her so much. I disagree about the payoff. I thought it was fantastic. And I loved how the audience is left with the question of the degree to which the horror was her own making. All of your other observations, though, about the use of space and quiet interludes, etc. were spot on.
I wonder if my insistence on ignorance when it comes to film is a part of why it so much easier to enjoy it than those of you who read up on reviews before watching. Even after a film, it's more uncommon for me to look up what other people have said about it. Typically if I look something up, it's after some kind of "based on a true story" film to see where the movie differs from reality. Even so, I find that I have preconceived notions going into films that keep me from enjoying them. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is a good example. Genre plus director plus actors plus particular setting all made me think it was going to be a great film, and it was a travesty. I set myself up to be disappointed is what it amounts to. But I think maybe some people enjoy not liking movies (John, Jeff?) and feeling superior to them, so they try to facilitate that whenever possible (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). So I feel pretty determined most of the time to go in ignorant to a film. It's why I like things like Metacritic and Rotten Tomatoes so much. I can get a sense for how the film has been received without needing to know anything about it beforehand.
I LOVED Sara Paxton in The Innkeepers. She felt like such a real person in a way that seems rare in films. Either she's a tremendous actress or that's exactly what she's like in real life. I was really sad when she [SPOILER] dies [END SPOILER] at the end because I liked her so much. I disagree about the payoff. I thought it was fantastic. And I loved how the audience is left with the question of the degree to which the horror was her own making. All of your other observations, though, about the use of space and quiet interludes, etc. were spot on.
Once Again, in Defense of Horror
You wrote, Chris, about horror's overeliance on blood and sex. I would say that the slasher film is easily the loudest sibling of the horror family, and so it brings down judgment on the whole genre because its antics. I personally like slasher films, but Brandon, being as big a horror fan as I am, tends to not like them as well. There is so much more to the horror genre than the slasher. Don't forget that films like The Innkeepers or The Others, neither of which has sex OR blood, are horror films through and through. Even Picnic at Hanging Rock, which is a horror film at its core, is rated PG, for criminy's sake.
Formula
So sorry to leave you hanging there for so long, Brandon. Of course I've got your back, brother! And I'm responding still having only read through about May 18. I'm slowly trying to catch up, and hoping that my late entries into these discussions will still garner some comments.
Yes, it's true that certain movies get trounced for their formulas while others are allowed to slide by. I'd argue that films with more mainstream appeal--comedies, romance, drama, action to a degree--are given more leeway because, well, more people get into the formula. But sci-fi and horror film fans are a smaller (and more dedicated) audience (do they have rom-com cons?) and therefore those films and their fans become easier targets. Not to mention the fact that lovers of these genres also recognize and relish the formulas their beloved movies often follow. Galaxy Quest was a really fun film that lovingly poked fun at Trekkies and it was successful (in my estimation) because of how it integrated the world of the sci-fi film with the world of the sci-fi film fan. I only mention that because we've already discussed a few horror films that take similar approaches in how they play with the traditional formulas (though GQ is unique in the way in incorporates its fans into the plot): Cabin Fever, Cabin in the Woods, Tucker and Dale, etc. Hostel does some of the same thing, but it's ultimately a much more serious film, gangs of street urchins notwithstanding.
So here's why Hostel is not just another formulaic horror film and why it stands out. First of all, all the main characters are men. Men get duped, men get tortured, men get killed. Yes, there are a few female characters involved (so we can see that the organization doesn't only purchase men) but our attentions are focused on these young-men-as-meat. This is partly why I've put off for so long watching the sequel. I thinking making the protagonists female strips the film of one of its most powerful breaks from formula--it portrays men as victims. Now lets look at our two heroes, Josh and Paxton. Paxton is your typical womanizing college frat boy, while Josh is the sensitive virgin. Watching the film, we totally expect that Josh is going to be the one to survive, because, well, the virgin always survives (this is why it's funny when Cabin in the Woods plays around so much with the trope). But, no, Josh is dispatched pretty handily. So now we have Paxton left--to some degree it makes perfect sense that he would survive: he is more experienced and worldly than his friend and has the guts it takes to get himself out of there. But he also resorts to a lot of running and hiding, and fights not to overpower but to escape. This behavior is so very typical of female characters in horror films and it is refreshing and interesting to see a man in that role. He does rescue another character, and exact revenge on one of his butchers, redeeming his manliness somewhat, but in light of both the universality of Elite Hunting and the fact that his rescuee throws herself in front of a train, both acts are ultimately rendered futile. Paxton also loses a couple of fingers. In horror films, often the characters get out completely intact or they don't get out at all. It's unsettling to see a character survive a horror film maimed, and you don't see it often. It hits a little too close to home. We can be relieved because Paxton survives, but he has lost something permanently in a physical sense. [I'm thinking right now of Rick Grimes in the Walking Dead comics and how it's a testament to Kirkman's writing that he dared to cause his main character so early in the series to lose his hand, forcing himself to constantly write around it. Though he has admitted that he might not do the same thing, given the chance again.] It's possible that humans fear being disabled more than dying (I know I do), so to allow that to happen to a character in a horror film disrupts the roller coaster ride to an extent. Finally, on top of all the other breaks from the formula, you have, as Brandon points out, this notion of an organization that is so much bigger than a solitary psycho on the loose. Here's where Roth is making a serious commentary on the darkness of humanity. We're not dealing with a solitary crazy mental ward escapee, we're dealing with horror on an organized, global, and institutional level. So, no matter where Paxton goes, it fair to say that the horror he escaped from will still exist around him. And he'll have to live with the knowledge on a daily basis.
No offense, Jeff, but I chalk up your inability to see these distinctions to your lack of experience with the genre. Granted, a lack of desire for familiarity with the genre doesn't help either, but relegating films for which you don't understand the appeal to "shit" may be a little harsh. I liked Transformers 1 and 3 (the second one was kinda crappy), if only because watching CGI robots duke it out is really cool to me. I won't say they're great movies but they deserve their audiences as much as your 1930's films or your highfalutin' artsy foreign films.
A word about Funny Games--the main difference between Funny Games and a film like Hostel is that FG focuses on the villains, while Hostel (and most horror films) focuses on the victims. In FG, we're essentially experiencing the horror through the bad guys' eyes (though we don't realize it at first), and it's a testament to Haneke's skill that he is able to do that effectively enough that we can see the satire and cynicism in their behavior. We're detached enough from this poor family's horror that we can be interested in the torturer's actions and in trying to figure out what could possibly be motivating them. They would make perfect candidates for A Clockwork Orange's government rehabilitation program, don't you think? Am I the only one who sees a striking correlation between these two films? The household rape scene in ACO seems to be cut from the same cloth as FG's feature-length sequence. It makes me wonder if it was all Haneke could do to keep his boys from belting out "Singin' in the Rain."
Yes, it's true that certain movies get trounced for their formulas while others are allowed to slide by. I'd argue that films with more mainstream appeal--comedies, romance, drama, action to a degree--are given more leeway because, well, more people get into the formula. But sci-fi and horror film fans are a smaller (and more dedicated) audience (do they have rom-com cons?) and therefore those films and their fans become easier targets. Not to mention the fact that lovers of these genres also recognize and relish the formulas their beloved movies often follow. Galaxy Quest was a really fun film that lovingly poked fun at Trekkies and it was successful (in my estimation) because of how it integrated the world of the sci-fi film with the world of the sci-fi film fan. I only mention that because we've already discussed a few horror films that take similar approaches in how they play with the traditional formulas (though GQ is unique in the way in incorporates its fans into the plot): Cabin Fever, Cabin in the Woods, Tucker and Dale, etc. Hostel does some of the same thing, but it's ultimately a much more serious film, gangs of street urchins notwithstanding.
So here's why Hostel is not just another formulaic horror film and why it stands out. First of all, all the main characters are men. Men get duped, men get tortured, men get killed. Yes, there are a few female characters involved (so we can see that the organization doesn't only purchase men) but our attentions are focused on these young-men-as-meat. This is partly why I've put off for so long watching the sequel. I thinking making the protagonists female strips the film of one of its most powerful breaks from formula--it portrays men as victims. Now lets look at our two heroes, Josh and Paxton. Paxton is your typical womanizing college frat boy, while Josh is the sensitive virgin. Watching the film, we totally expect that Josh is going to be the one to survive, because, well, the virgin always survives (this is why it's funny when Cabin in the Woods plays around so much with the trope). But, no, Josh is dispatched pretty handily. So now we have Paxton left--to some degree it makes perfect sense that he would survive: he is more experienced and worldly than his friend and has the guts it takes to get himself out of there. But he also resorts to a lot of running and hiding, and fights not to overpower but to escape. This behavior is so very typical of female characters in horror films and it is refreshing and interesting to see a man in that role. He does rescue another character, and exact revenge on one of his butchers, redeeming his manliness somewhat, but in light of both the universality of Elite Hunting and the fact that his rescuee throws herself in front of a train, both acts are ultimately rendered futile. Paxton also loses a couple of fingers. In horror films, often the characters get out completely intact or they don't get out at all. It's unsettling to see a character survive a horror film maimed, and you don't see it often. It hits a little too close to home. We can be relieved because Paxton survives, but he has lost something permanently in a physical sense. [I'm thinking right now of Rick Grimes in the Walking Dead comics and how it's a testament to Kirkman's writing that he dared to cause his main character so early in the series to lose his hand, forcing himself to constantly write around it. Though he has admitted that he might not do the same thing, given the chance again.] It's possible that humans fear being disabled more than dying (I know I do), so to allow that to happen to a character in a horror film disrupts the roller coaster ride to an extent. Finally, on top of all the other breaks from the formula, you have, as Brandon points out, this notion of an organization that is so much bigger than a solitary psycho on the loose. Here's where Roth is making a serious commentary on the darkness of humanity. We're not dealing with a solitary crazy mental ward escapee, we're dealing with horror on an organized, global, and institutional level. So, no matter where Paxton goes, it fair to say that the horror he escaped from will still exist around him. And he'll have to live with the knowledge on a daily basis.
No offense, Jeff, but I chalk up your inability to see these distinctions to your lack of experience with the genre. Granted, a lack of desire for familiarity with the genre doesn't help either, but relegating films for which you don't understand the appeal to "shit" may be a little harsh. I liked Transformers 1 and 3 (the second one was kinda crappy), if only because watching CGI robots duke it out is really cool to me. I won't say they're great movies but they deserve their audiences as much as your 1930's films or your highfalutin' artsy foreign films.
A word about Funny Games--the main difference between Funny Games and a film like Hostel is that FG focuses on the villains, while Hostel (and most horror films) focuses on the victims. In FG, we're essentially experiencing the horror through the bad guys' eyes (though we don't realize it at first), and it's a testament to Haneke's skill that he is able to do that effectively enough that we can see the satire and cynicism in their behavior. We're detached enough from this poor family's horror that we can be interested in the torturer's actions and in trying to figure out what could possibly be motivating them. They would make perfect candidates for A Clockwork Orange's government rehabilitation program, don't you think? Am I the only one who sees a striking correlation between these two films? The household rape scene in ACO seems to be cut from the same cloth as FG's feature-length sequence. It makes me wonder if it was all Haneke could do to keep his boys from belting out "Singin' in the Rain."
Following (from quite a distance)
I've now caught up with your blogs through about mid-May, and here's what I have to say so far.
I loved Cabin Fever; I enjoyed and appreciated Hostel. There was not only a nice structure to the film; it also played around with horror tropes in some unique ways, clearly building on what Roth started in CF. I'm disappointed he hasn't done anything really noteworthy since. I think he's a talented and knowledgable director who has a wonderful tongue-in-cheek mentality that's great for horror.
I had seen Following before but forgot all about it until maybe halfway through. I like the ending a lot, because both times I found myself in the shoes of the protagonist and I love that feeling in a film of having the rug pulled out from under you. I like trying to figure out if here's any way out of his mess, and I like thinking about how he got pulled into the whole mess and whether or not he could have avoided it. The protagonist is an interesting character and I find myself wondering about him and who he is, and what's going on with him psychologically that he was able so easily to be pulled from being so passive to being so active and involved in his criminal behavior. And that he was able to be duped so easily. He makes me think that I should be vigilant and deliberate in determining for myself what lines I can and cannot cross and not wait for the pressure to be on in order to decide what's right or wrong for me. The protagonist of Following was so desperate for human connection that he used poor judgement and got himself in a fine mess. And see how Nolan, from Following to Memento to Batman is so very interested in these detached characters who long for connection but because of their self delusions end up going about getting it in all the wrong ways.
Batman is mentally ill. We all know that, right?
I had seen Following before but forgot all about it until maybe halfway through. I like the ending a lot, because both times I found myself in the shoes of the protagonist and I love that feeling in a film of having the rug pulled out from under you. I like trying to figure out if here's any way out of his mess, and I like thinking about how he got pulled into the whole mess and whether or not he could have avoided it. The protagonist is an interesting character and I find myself wondering about him and who he is, and what's going on with him psychologically that he was able so easily to be pulled from being so passive to being so active and involved in his criminal behavior. And that he was able to be duped so easily. He makes me think that I should be vigilant and deliberate in determining for myself what lines I can and cannot cross and not wait for the pressure to be on in order to decide what's right or wrong for me. The protagonist of Following was so desperate for human connection that he used poor judgement and got himself in a fine mess. And see how Nolan, from Following to Memento to Batman is so very interested in these detached characters who long for connection but because of their self delusions end up going about getting it in all the wrong ways.
Batman is mentally ill. We all know that, right?
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