On Mediation with Senna

Within media studies we are told that all texts are mediated. Everything comes with its own messages, its own ideology. This may be clear in fiction cinema. Avatar (2009) hardly tries to hide its pro-environmental message! Documentary cinema is different; it always has a message, but often this message is presented as fact simply because the footage is ‘real’ and the people non-actors. The story also is based on true events. In fact, it is impossible for any medium to ever be entirely free from human influence. Even the most paired down documentaries have still been shot or edited by someone and that person has still made the decision where to point the camera and what to leave out. The fingerprints of their own ideologies, in some way, remain on the media text. Now in some documentaries, such as those of Michael Moore this is not difficult to see. It is even a stretch to rank his films under the genre umbrella.

The opposite of the Michael Moore documentary style is direct cinema, pioneered by the late British director and cinematographer, Richard Leacock. In June 2011s Sight and Sound, Leacock’s importance in advancing the non-interventionist documentary is chronicled.

“Leacock’s mantra was that the documentary should give the audience “the feeling of being there”. The audience should be able to make up its own mind about what it was seeing, without direction imposed by a commentary. Out of this came the Direct Cinema dogma: no tripods, no lights, no interviews, no commentary, no added sound. Of course, much of this was more honoured in the breach that the observance. For example, you weren’t allowed to interview – but you could film interviewers interviewing.”

Few documentaries comply with these strict criteria; yet the article goes on to say how the boundaries have been loosened, even if the ideology remains. A recent documentary that does come very close to achieving true direct cinema is Senna (2010) directed by Asif Kapadia. Senna is the story of formula 1 driver Ayrton Senna from his early go-kart racing days to his success and death in formula 1. Senna is comprised entirely of archived footage. There is no narration, no new footage. The dialogue only comes from interviews filmed at the time and the images are those of home video, news footage or race footage. The director has attempted to remove him presence from the on screen as much as possible. And this has been achieved successfully. The mark of Kapadia’s success is in the feeling of total involvement in the story. Even for non-fans of formula 1 this is an enthralling story and the way the footage has been edited together tells a thrilling narrative.

Yet, as mentioned, no media text, regardless of how ‘untouched’ it appears, and Senna does have that feeling of truthfulness, has been mediated. This remains a story and one that is pro Ayrton Senna. Another documentary could quite as easily present a pro Alain Proust story (Senna’s main rival) without using drastically different footage. This is not a negative comment, Senna is a great film and a wonderful insight into formula 1, but it is important to remember that even the most accurate seeming films reflect someone’s opinion.

On Following Tradition with 13 Assassins

Directed by Takashi Miike and written by Kaneo Ikegami, 13 Assassins is pure cinematic enjoyment. A familiar story of an evil lord raining violence and political disruption on his people and the samurai sent to kill him, the film is split between the recruitment and the action, must like Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954), of which all samurai films must fall in line behind.

Thirteen is a big number when it comes to establishing character and it is no surprise that some are thinly drawn whereas others feel more real and become more memorable. The evil lord, Naritsugu, is rendered pure evil through some distressing and disturbing acts of violence, which he incurs or inspires. These acts ensure we are firmly on the side of the assassins and deeply invested in their success. When the assassins spring their trap on the lord and his soldiers, of which there are approximately 200, the leader of the assassins, Shinzaemon, holds up a note given to him as a description of what the lord previously inflicted upon a village. The note reads, ‘total massacre’ and the violence that follows feels justified and does not sway from the message. This action set piece (it is perhaps more accurate to say several set pieces beautifully shot and edited together) lasts about half of the film’s 2 hour 20 minute running time, but never descends into tedium. This is a gritty, dirty, tiring and emotion battle. Exhaustion soon takes hold and the assassins seem to be running on adrenaline only, desperate to complete their mission.

Despite the similarity to Seven Samurai, of which 13 Assassins must be somewhat of an homage (the film is also a remake of the Eiichi Kudo’s 1963 film of the same name), this film feels fresh and proves that well told stories about revenge will never go out of fashion.

On Genre Surprises with Hanna

Hanna, directed by Joe Wright and written by Seth Lochhead and David Farr, is an out an out action film. A worthy companion to the Bourne trilogy, if Jason Bourne were a genetically enhanced 16 year old girl. Every ingredient of the action genre is here and hard-core fans of the genre will not be disappointed. Thanks to a side story of the government creating a new breed of super soldiers/spies, Hanna is able to kick ass with the best of them.

However, like recent Joe Wright films, Hanna has an unexpected edge. The story and the make-up of the characters may be straight out of 90% of action films, but Wright’s directorial style raises it above our expectations derived from the trailer. This should be no surprise, in 2007 Wright directed Atonement which on the surface appeared to be a typical period drama (much like Wright’s Pride & Prejudice (2005)), but had a dark edge that made it one of the best films of that year. Two years later, Wright’s The Soloist (2009) told the story of a homeless man with incredible musical talent. Wright’s representation of the homeless population of Los Angeles and the issues surrounding the city’s thoughts towards them, gave the film a depth unexpected from watching the trailer.

It appears the moral here is that do not judge a Joe Wright film by the trailer alone, as more often than not, there will be an unforeseen element that will be a welcome surprise.

On Slow and Fast Cinema with Meek's Cutoff and Fast Five

Meek’s Cutoff could easily fall into the recent category of steadily contemplative cinema known as slow cinema. This movement was recently described by Jonathan Romney as a “varied strain of austere minimalist cinema… a cinema that downplays event in favour of mood, evocativeness and an intensified sense of temporality.” Meek's Cutoff is very much concerned with time and the repetition of events that drag time out over the course of a long, arduous journey across America. The natural lighting, under dramatic acting, often difficult to hear, and the square framing (instead of the traditional wide screen) give the audience a sense of being a part of this journey. As the travelling is hard going for the characters, the viewing is hard going for the audience, but it is rewarding. Meek's Cutoff exerts a strange power as you watch, not unlike a tractor beam. There is nothing obvious drawing you towards it, but yet you can't turn away and find yourself part of the characters' experiences. There is clear technical proficiency in front of and behind the camera in all areas and yet the story must have been a hard sell and is unlikely to make a profit, which is unfortunate. This is powerfully subtle cinema.

Not powerful and as far from subtle as you get can is Fast Five. This is the fifth instalment of the Fast and the Furious series (2001 - 2011) and rarely stops for breath. The dialogue is flat, the characters struggle to move out of their one dimension and film is far too long. Yet there is undeniably pleasure to be had in the insane, fantastical action sequences. The film is lifted by the presence of Dwayne Johnson, who has charisma and lifts any scenes he is in and makes the most of the screenplay, which seems to have been written in several sections by different people who didn't communicate. Instantly forgettable, but ridiculously enjoyable.

On the Issue of 3D and Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Up until recently, the majority of 3D films that received nationwide theatrical releases have been mostly family friendly fiction films - Alice in Wonderland (2010) Avatar, (2009), A Christmas Carol (2009). Yet, in the past two months two giants of European cinema have released 3D documentaries that have received more press attention that any previous 3D films that have not fallen into the canon noted above. These films are Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams and Wim Wenders’ soon to be released Pina. Now therefore feels like a good time to discuss the merits of 3D and its seemingly non-stop advancement into all avenues of cinema.

3D is a tricky concept and divides people on whether it works or not. For some, it is noticeable but not a distraction. For others, it is a major distraction and will never, in its current form, work. Even in the case of Avatar, which surpasses any 3D film to date, with its advanced employment of the new technology. There are many advocators and detractors of 3D. Perhaps the most influential detractor is Walter Murch, one of the most respected film editors and sound designers in modern cinema. Murch acknowledges the problems many may have encountered (darkness of the screen, closeness of the borders) are problems, but ones that can be fixed. The deeper issue, that cannot be fixed, is, according to Murch, the convergence and focus issue. Murch claims that our eyes must converge on an image that is changing direction – is it 10 feet away, 80 feet, 120 feet? – and therefore are eyes are focusing on one distance and converging on another, which defies evolution. As an editor, Murch claims that the technology cannot be compatible with our eyes. The full article by Murch can be read here: http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2011/01/post_4.html

Wenders’ Pina is a documentary that captures some key performances of renowned choreographer Pina Bausch. Bausch had repeatedly asked Wenders to film her work, but he could think of no way to improve on what already existed. Then he saw the advancements that 3D had made and saw an opportunity to do what Baush had always demanded. Of 3D, Wenders says that it allows for the “discovery of space…In 3D there is this other dimension: the film is inside the dancers’ very own realism.” Expect future Wenders’ films to make use of 3D.

Of Cave of Forgotten Dreams this is certainly the case. The 3D does add another dimension to the caves and allows us to get a sense of the depth that 2D does not offer. More importantly for the film, it allows us to really get excited and involved in what the cave’s discovers got excited about. While a 2D image can be interesting and the story behind it fascinating, with 3D we see the contours of the cave, feel the claustrophobia and understand the difficulty in the discovery. As this doesn’t detract from the cultural importance on the cave drawings, it only adds to the effect of the documentary. For those that find 3D a distraction, this obviously is not the case and the 2D film will allow them to experience the full benefit of Herzog’s hard work.

Unlike Wenders, Herzog has not been converted to 3D by his use in Caves, although of seeing the cave for the first time claims “it was imperative to do it in 3D”. Herzog’s main criticism of 3D is worth repeating: “When you see a romantic comedy…we as an audience live and develop through a parallel story – we hope and pray that our young lovers should, against all obstacles, find each other by the end. In 3D you only have what is in 3D and nothing beyond – it’s a very strange effect…you can shoot a porno film in 3D, but you cannot film a romantic comedy in 3D.”

So, as can be seen, the question of 3D’s validity to cinema is not only a question amongst audiences, but filmmakers, too. What is certain is that Cave of Forgotten Dreams is a fascinating story of how culture develops and an incredible glimpse into the life of man 32,000 years ago. The 3D, while far from being hidden, adds to the story, especially those parts within the cave. The film may prove to do more for the advancement of 3D than Avatar did as it expands the technology into new genres.

On Being British in Submarine

There is an expectation that British films about British people, set in Britain will be of a certain kind. This has nothing to do with the incredible creativity that exists within the British film industry and those working in Britain, but instead more with the success of British films overseas that have an amazing ability to go onto define the country and its national identity through overseas success. By overseas success, read North American success. Such films seem to fall into three distinct categories; the British gangster film (Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998), Layer Cake (2004)), the British period drama (The Young Victoria (2009)) and the contemporary British romantic comedy (Bridget Jones’ Diary (2001), Notting Hill (1999)) There are good films within these categories. In fact there are great films, yet there is also a lot of films that are not good, but that do very well financially.

British films that don’t fall into one of these three categories (the Harry Potter and James Bond films are a world of their own) seem to get lost in the box office, maybe through a lack of clear identification. Bright Star (2009) is the perfect example; a film that barely registered in North American cinemas and faired little better here, yet is a film of outstanding talent.

There is now a film which it is hoped will become a clear exception to this rule. Submarine, written and directed by Richard Ayoade and based on the novel by Joe Dunthorne is a coming of age tale set in Wales. Due to excellent write-ups and a great marketing campaign, Submarine has proved popular in British cinemas and has been picked up by The Weinstein Company for international distribution (although whether North American audiences ‘get it’ is yet to be seen).

Submarine feels like a breath of fresh air, not just as a British film, but also for film in general. It is a funny, touching film with well thought out characters brilliantly brought to life by some clever direction. In addition to the relatable characters and the comedy, the film owes much to the annals of film history and clearly displays Ayoade’s knowledge of world cinema and marks him as a director to watch. There are references abound to the French nouvelle vague of the 1960s and the more recent canon of Wes Anderson. The seriousness of the subject matter is delicately balanced with the often laugh out loud comedy and although the third acts drags slightly, there is enjoyment to be had throughout. If only there were more money available for scripts and directors like this instead of more predictable London rom-coms and royal dramas.

On the Baffling Science of Source Code

In 2009 Duncan Jones wrote and directed the low budget science fiction drama, Moon. With Sam Rockwell in the lead role, Moon was an intelligent, character driven film that asked challenging questions and felt the more creative for the lack of money.

For his next feature, Jones has adapted a script by Ben Ripley about the trial of a new technology that allows the government to access the last eight minutes of a dead body’s brain. This is Source Code.

Like Moon, Source Code is a science fiction (action) drama. With Jake Gyllenhaal in the lead this is an (fairly) intelligent, (mostly) character driven film that raises confusing questions and with an estimated budget of $32 million has not had to struggle to realise its vision. Source Code follows quickly on the heels of The Adjustment Bureau (2011), another action/drama/romance dealing with the existential. Both of these films were probably rushed into production following the incredible success of Inception (2010). Yet neither matches the narrative intelligence of Inception. Source Code follows Gyllenhaal’s character as he returns time again to a train and the last eight minutes of a man’s life before the train explodes due to terrorism. Gyllenhaal’s character looks and sounds like the man whose body he is occupying, but the brain is his. After eight minutes he is transported back to a strange cockpit like setting where he takes orders over a webcam. His mission is to find the bomber and report his findings over the webcam so they can prevent another expected bombing, which is about to happen in real time. Every time he returns to the train, he becomes more familiar with the setting, gets closer to finding the bomber and falls in love with a female passenger. Yet, we are told, this is not time travelling.

Source Code is a fun, entertaining, well-acted film and for the first 70 minutes it is a thrilling film. However, Source Code cannot escape the baffling science it tries so hard to explain. Rather than except the fact that it is confusing, it tries to do what Inception did so well and integrate it into the story with clarity. But, it simply does not make sense and the end confuses even further and leaves not challenging questions about the value of life, but annoying questions about certain plot details.