Year: 1915
Accolades: One of 1001 films you must see before you die; Revolutionised cinema as we know it.
I guess you know you've made it as a film buff when you watch the opening credits of a film that's nearly 100 years old and your first thought is "Hey look at that, Lillian Gish is in this film." You're not really a film buff, though, until you've sen D. W. Griffith's three hour, extremely famous and yet controversial epic.
The film is famous for two reasons. The first is that it established many cinematic techniques that are now considered to be stock tools of the trade. The second is its overtly racist story and depiction of African Americans which caused outrage at the time and (as the poplar consensus says) prompted Griffith to work on Intolerance, his next major film which showed how hurtful the ignorance and intolerance of others can be. (Intolerance was one of the other films I watched in 2012, and one of the reasons why I know who Lillian Gish is.)
Watching this film poses an interesting dilemma, one in which everyone who has watched the film faces. As a technical production, it is extremely well made. It is clear that Griffith put a lot of care into what he captured on film. Lillian Gish looks innocently gorgeous, and her love interest is suitably dashing. The action sequences are thrilling. Shots are masterfully constructed and framed. But Griffith didn't just make the film using existing techniques which resulted in their popularity. He virtually invented them, and was the first to use many of the standard techniques we use today. The result is considered to be the film that revolutionised cinema, moulding it into the form we now know today.
The problem, of course, is the content that goes with this revolutionary vision. There is no denying that it is an incredibly racist film. This is partly because it is based on a very racist book called The Clansman. The racist elemts are quite sublte during the first half and can be missed if you're not paying attention. I was actually uncomfortable as I sat through the second half of the film, in which the Ku Klux Klan is formed and its members depicted as the heroes of the film. In addition, there are many actors that are clearly in blackface.
It's difficult to tell whether Griffith intended for these views to be the prominent message of the film. There are title cards that would suggest that the film is intended to be more about the abhorrence of war and its consequences than about promoting a racist agenda. However, it is clear that Griffith was at the very least indifferent to the racist elements, which is no less excusable. Much as been made about the film's message and attitudes towards the issue of racism, as well as the cinematic techniques that Griffith introduced to the world of filmmaking. Rather than regurgitate it all here, I would merely suggest that you hunt down some this material for yourself, if you're interested. It is, after all, considered to be one of the most important films ever made.
Friday, 15 February 2013
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Lambie Reviews Fanny and Alexander
Year: 1982
Accolades: One of 1001 films you must see before you die; Winner of a bunch of Oscars; Ingamr Bergman's "last film" (it turned out sort of not to be)
When you mention "Ingmar Bergman" the mind automatically comes up with a certain set of rules that it thinks his films will all follow. Interestingly, this film bucks the trend a bit and is a bit more accessible than some of his other work. It's an intriguing film that is part ghost story, part family drama, and even part fantasy. Admittedly, this does sound like most of his films so far, but this one isn't really as abstract. It does have it's moments, but for the most part you can infer enough of what you need to know in order to understand what is going on.
It's a long film, at just over three hours, and at times it does feel that long, but even if there's not a lot going on on screen there's always something there that can sustain your interest. The cinematography is just gorgeous, for a start. The colours of the rich family home and the costumes of its occupants almost saturate the screen, to the point where the visuals alone are enough to establish the joyous nature that this extended family seems to share, particularly at Christmas in the opening scenes.
There are also some wonderful individual shots, such as those in which characters are framed by doorways, arches, windows, etc that have been positioned behind the characters. The colourful nature of many of these shots means that it's easy to pick them. Whether or not the unsubtle nature of these framing devices is intentional is irrelevant, because that's just the weird abstract way in which Bergman sometimes works on the concious and unconscious level.
You'd also think that a film in which the dialogue consist mostly of the goings on of the family and the drama within would be excruciating, yet it's oddly fascinating. At times characters go on rather philosophical tangents that are also layered with a deeper emotional subtext. Other times there seems to be some sort of other psychological undercurrent as one character tries to get the upper hand on another. There are also those shots that make you think "what on earth does Bergman keep showing this for? Is it just some sort of plot-framing device?" Such innocent things turn out to be foreshadowing of something much darker later on.
Then of course there's the character who dies at the end of the first act then keeps showing up and occasionally has discussions with people who are still living. At first it just seems like just one of those things that Bergman does, but as the film progresses the whole idea of being able to commune with the dead starts playing into other plot elements. After that, the final act starts exploring other elements of the paranormal as well and it all seems perfectly natural for the tone and style of the film.
If anything, this film is a great way to initiate the uninitiated into the world of Ingmar Bergman. There's so much layered into every shot, and so much layered into the story. (So much, in fact, that there's an even longer, four part television version.) Ultimately, it's a film that gives you so much to think about, in a satisfying way for once.
Accolades: One of 1001 films you must see before you die; Winner of a bunch of Oscars; Ingamr Bergman's "last film" (it turned out sort of not to be)
When you mention "Ingmar Bergman" the mind automatically comes up with a certain set of rules that it thinks his films will all follow. Interestingly, this film bucks the trend a bit and is a bit more accessible than some of his other work. It's an intriguing film that is part ghost story, part family drama, and even part fantasy. Admittedly, this does sound like most of his films so far, but this one isn't really as abstract. It does have it's moments, but for the most part you can infer enough of what you need to know in order to understand what is going on.
It's a long film, at just over three hours, and at times it does feel that long, but even if there's not a lot going on on screen there's always something there that can sustain your interest. The cinematography is just gorgeous, for a start. The colours of the rich family home and the costumes of its occupants almost saturate the screen, to the point where the visuals alone are enough to establish the joyous nature that this extended family seems to share, particularly at Christmas in the opening scenes.
There are also some wonderful individual shots, such as those in which characters are framed by doorways, arches, windows, etc that have been positioned behind the characters. The colourful nature of many of these shots means that it's easy to pick them. Whether or not the unsubtle nature of these framing devices is intentional is irrelevant, because that's just the weird abstract way in which Bergman sometimes works on the concious and unconscious level.
You'd also think that a film in which the dialogue consist mostly of the goings on of the family and the drama within would be excruciating, yet it's oddly fascinating. At times characters go on rather philosophical tangents that are also layered with a deeper emotional subtext. Other times there seems to be some sort of other psychological undercurrent as one character tries to get the upper hand on another. There are also those shots that make you think "what on earth does Bergman keep showing this for? Is it just some sort of plot-framing device?" Such innocent things turn out to be foreshadowing of something much darker later on.
Then of course there's the character who dies at the end of the first act then keeps showing up and occasionally has discussions with people who are still living. At first it just seems like just one of those things that Bergman does, but as the film progresses the whole idea of being able to commune with the dead starts playing into other plot elements. After that, the final act starts exploring other elements of the paranormal as well and it all seems perfectly natural for the tone and style of the film.
If anything, this film is a great way to initiate the uninitiated into the world of Ingmar Bergman. There's so much layered into every shot, and so much layered into the story. (So much, in fact, that there's an even longer, four part television version.) Ultimately, it's a film that gives you so much to think about, in a satisfying way for once.
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Lambie Reviews Things to Come
Year: 1936
Accolades: One of 1001 films you must see before you die, and also just essential science fiction
Science fiction is a tricky business, particularly those stories that deal with the future. You have to make the audience believe that the future you are presenting is a possible future that could concievably happen. Films of the past have to hold up by portrayting a future that could have happened. Such films usually portray what the future is like by using design elements, and then using these elements to help tell the story. Classic films from Blade Runner to Star Wars use their look and feel to help tell the story.
Things to Come is different. In this film, the design of the future is the story. Written by none other than H. G. Wells, this is his and director William Menzies' attempt to explore what could happen to humanity in the future and how we would actually reach that point. The whole premise of this film is to examine what societies might be like in the future, and also to suggest how humanity might fall into these social structures.
The story begins in 1940, so from the point of view of the release date we are in the (albeit immediate) future, and spans a period of 100 years. It wasn't far off in suggesting another world war was looming, and almost predicted the London blitz to the letter, the portrayal of which is spookily reminiscent to what actually happened in London. This, though, is where the plausibility comes in but where the future diverges from what we know.
Instead of only lasting for a few years, this war rages on for about 25. The unnamed enemy uses chemical warfare amongst their weaponry, which eventually spreads a disease that wipes out half of humanity. When the disease is finally irradiated in the second half of the 60's, the world has descended into a sort of Mad Max style future, just with a whole lot more people and infrastructure. There's no petrol, which means no cars (that aren't pulled by horses) and no working planes. A sighting of a plane in the air leads to a united human race and a series of events that ends in the future, where people have become suspicious of the relentless progress that they themselves have been a part of.
The characters and characterisation in this film is noticeably weak. The episodic nature of progressing from time period to time period means that characters don't get the space to develop. They are introduced, they do their bit, and they either die, or just become irrelevant as their ancestors take over. But on the other hand, the characters are almost irrelevant anyway.
They are simply the tool by which Wells and Menzies explore the nature of human society and the human psyche. The film raises a whole slew of interesting questions. Is a forced peace really peace? What are the rules in chemical warfare, particularly in regards to compassion, ethics, and morale? Can you just shoot the infected in order to eradicate it and protect others? Should the leader of that anarchistic feudal town really have been so suspicious of the pilot of the plane, or was he right to distrust all outsiders in the state the world was in? Is the relentless march of progress a good thing if it is completely unrestricted and forced on everyone?
In the end, the film acts out more like some sort of Shakespearean drama than anything else. Lots of characters, death, and suspicion. No one is completely in the clear. Shooting the infected is played both as a good thing and a bad. The place the pilot comes from is certainly better than the oddball society that he is visiting, but forcing this better version of society onto the people is also not an entirely comfortable idea. Who is right? Who is wrong?
The fun is not so much in watching the film, but reading and thinking about it afterwards.
Accolades: One of 1001 films you must see before you die, and also just essential science fiction
Science fiction is a tricky business, particularly those stories that deal with the future. You have to make the audience believe that the future you are presenting is a possible future that could concievably happen. Films of the past have to hold up by portrayting a future that could have happened. Such films usually portray what the future is like by using design elements, and then using these elements to help tell the story. Classic films from Blade Runner to Star Wars use their look and feel to help tell the story.
Things to Come is different. In this film, the design of the future is the story. Written by none other than H. G. Wells, this is his and director William Menzies' attempt to explore what could happen to humanity in the future and how we would actually reach that point. The whole premise of this film is to examine what societies might be like in the future, and also to suggest how humanity might fall into these social structures.
The story begins in 1940, so from the point of view of the release date we are in the (albeit immediate) future, and spans a period of 100 years. It wasn't far off in suggesting another world war was looming, and almost predicted the London blitz to the letter, the portrayal of which is spookily reminiscent to what actually happened in London. This, though, is where the plausibility comes in but where the future diverges from what we know.
Instead of only lasting for a few years, this war rages on for about 25. The unnamed enemy uses chemical warfare amongst their weaponry, which eventually spreads a disease that wipes out half of humanity. When the disease is finally irradiated in the second half of the 60's, the world has descended into a sort of Mad Max style future, just with a whole lot more people and infrastructure. There's no petrol, which means no cars (that aren't pulled by horses) and no working planes. A sighting of a plane in the air leads to a united human race and a series of events that ends in the future, where people have become suspicious of the relentless progress that they themselves have been a part of.
The characters and characterisation in this film is noticeably weak. The episodic nature of progressing from time period to time period means that characters don't get the space to develop. They are introduced, they do their bit, and they either die, or just become irrelevant as their ancestors take over. But on the other hand, the characters are almost irrelevant anyway.
They are simply the tool by which Wells and Menzies explore the nature of human society and the human psyche. The film raises a whole slew of interesting questions. Is a forced peace really peace? What are the rules in chemical warfare, particularly in regards to compassion, ethics, and morale? Can you just shoot the infected in order to eradicate it and protect others? Should the leader of that anarchistic feudal town really have been so suspicious of the pilot of the plane, or was he right to distrust all outsiders in the state the world was in? Is the relentless march of progress a good thing if it is completely unrestricted and forced on everyone?
In the end, the film acts out more like some sort of Shakespearean drama than anything else. Lots of characters, death, and suspicion. No one is completely in the clear. Shooting the infected is played both as a good thing and a bad. The place the pilot comes from is certainly better than the oddball society that he is visiting, but forcing this better version of society onto the people is also not an entirely comfortable idea. Who is right? Who is wrong?
The fun is not so much in watching the film, but reading and thinking about it afterwards.
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