Relevant elements: General torture-based plots, that creepy Jigsaw doll thing
Why it resonated: Various cultural critics have pointed to different reasons for the sharply rising interest in "torture porn" in the mid-'00s, but a lot of them seem to want to pin it on 9/11. It's also possible that America was just ready for the serial killer thriller to move in this direction after the genre had become stale and audience tolerance for depictions of physical mutilation had increased.
General comments on the film: For the number of surprises--and no, I'm not talking about the hacky plotting; I'm talking about the fact that Cary Elwes is in it, Danny Glover is in it (one might have supposed that he was too old for this), and it isn't quite as gory as I'd been led to believe--you'd think this movie would be more interesting.
There are a few solid touches for a thriller of this type: the jarring in medias res opening works fairly well, the choice of a mannequin factory for the psycho's hideout is a bit predictable, but still manages to twang that uncanny chord, and the reworking of the limited-vision bit from the end of The Silence of the Lambs using an old-fashioned photo flash as the only available light source does what it is intended to do. But it doesn't come close to overcoming the dreadful acting and parade gimmicky moments, leaving me to wonder if it would have been more compelling if the entirety of the movie took place in the room with the two men without all the conveniently-remembered flashbacks and outside drama. I guess Elwes's hammy growling and the other guy's screechy whining would quickly overflow the narrow space, though, so maybe the best thing to do would be to just present an even more extensive catalog of Jigsaw's intricate human traps...which I'm sure is what the unfathomable number of sequels provide.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #15: Flashdance
Relevant elements: The songs, the water-pull dance scene, a steel town girl who welds by day and dances by night
Why it resonated: MTV had primed the viewing public for flashy set pieces that fuse music and movement, and America always loves stories about hardworking people chasing their dreams
General comments on the film: Since about the one-third mark of Flashdance, I've been trying to determine if this film would have been anywhere near as successful and relevant if it were released at any other time. If it were released five years earlier, it would have been scoffed at as a weaker knock-off of Saturday Night Fever. If it were released five years later, the novelty of music video style would have been diluted to the point of no longer distracting from the movie's thin plot and characterization.
In other words, the movie screams 1983 from the opening titles onward. It also screams Pittsburgh, which makes it even more interesting that it has managed to stand as an iconic film. Since the filmmaking and storyline don't provide anything remarkable that would capture people's imaginations to that degree, it seems to me that the movie's impact is due mostly to its being a crystalization of a particular point in time that people find interesting (at least for now).
Think of the 1980s, and what comes to mind? Big hair, breakdancing, off-the-shoulder shirts worn with legwarmers, MTV, and cans of Diet Pepsi? These are the basic elements of Flashdance. The prominence of the soundtrack underlines this point, as Irene Cara's "Flashdance...What a Feeling" almost deserves top billing for all of the work it does in the film.
There are of course other movies that offer perfect snapshots of their respective times, but this one has the good fortune of encapsulating a period that garners a lot of attention even today in American culture. You might have noticed that young women today are wearing virtually the same slouchy tops that Jennifer Beals sports throughout the movie. And even people who weren't alive yet at the time have a very distinct idea of "the '80s"--more than they have a similar sense of "the '90s" despite having lived through them. 1983 has a strong flavor, and Flashdance is bursting with it.
Being tied to a time brings up the possibility that a movie will fade from the popular consciousness as its time recedes farther into the past, and I'll be curious to see what happens to this one in the next ten to twenty years. Already, its songs are being played on oldies stations, and it's hard to imagine that teenagers born after the year 2000 will choose to watch it, unless there are still '80s parties in the 2020s.
Why it resonated: MTV had primed the viewing public for flashy set pieces that fuse music and movement, and America always loves stories about hardworking people chasing their dreams
General comments on the film: Since about the one-third mark of Flashdance, I've been trying to determine if this film would have been anywhere near as successful and relevant if it were released at any other time. If it were released five years earlier, it would have been scoffed at as a weaker knock-off of Saturday Night Fever. If it were released five years later, the novelty of music video style would have been diluted to the point of no longer distracting from the movie's thin plot and characterization.
In other words, the movie screams 1983 from the opening titles onward. It also screams Pittsburgh, which makes it even more interesting that it has managed to stand as an iconic film. Since the filmmaking and storyline don't provide anything remarkable that would capture people's imaginations to that degree, it seems to me that the movie's impact is due mostly to its being a crystalization of a particular point in time that people find interesting (at least for now).
Think of the 1980s, and what comes to mind? Big hair, breakdancing, off-the-shoulder shirts worn with legwarmers, MTV, and cans of Diet Pepsi? These are the basic elements of Flashdance. The prominence of the soundtrack underlines this point, as Irene Cara's "Flashdance...What a Feeling" almost deserves top billing for all of the work it does in the film.
There are of course other movies that offer perfect snapshots of their respective times, but this one has the good fortune of encapsulating a period that garners a lot of attention even today in American culture. You might have noticed that young women today are wearing virtually the same slouchy tops that Jennifer Beals sports throughout the movie. And even people who weren't alive yet at the time have a very distinct idea of "the '80s"--more than they have a similar sense of "the '90s" despite having lived through them. 1983 has a strong flavor, and Flashdance is bursting with it.
Being tied to a time brings up the possibility that a movie will fade from the popular consciousness as its time recedes farther into the past, and I'll be curious to see what happens to this one in the next ten to twenty years. Already, its songs are being played on oldies stations, and it's hard to imagine that teenagers born after the year 2000 will choose to watch it, unless there are still '80s parties in the 2020s.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #14: My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Relevant elements: Crazy families at weddings, the phrasing "my big fat [x]"
Why it resonated: People find weddings dramatically interesting, and most people think their own families are embarrassing
General comments on the film: There's really not much to say about the artistic merits of the film, but it's worth considering how this little movie became a massive box office winner in 2002. Its comedy is broad and sitcommy, so it's not like audiences were struck by its genius, and the star power is of very low wattage--it's not like people were lining up to see John Corbett.
So how did this unremarkable work deliver one of the best returns on investment of its time? Why did it become a word-of-mouth phenomenon? There are several factors, but I think the most significant one is that the movie's depiction of a big, loud, overwhelming, and often embarrassing family during the planning and execution of a wedding appealed to people in two ways. Either they thought to themselves, "That's just like my family!" or they said, "What a zany over-the-top ethnic family! They're so different and cute!" In other words, the film courts both identification and spectacle. Leaving aside the question of stereotyping and cultural sensitivity, it presents what many "non-ethnic" people probably imagine these kinds of families are actually like. Having the hook of a wedding doesn't hurt either, especially for the target demographic of the movie.
I guess it's not surprising that interest in this kind of cultural tourism didn't have much staying power: the 2003 TV spinoff series My Big Fat Greek Life lasted only seven episodes. On the other hand, there are at the moment a handful of "My Big...Wedding" shows on television, and one could argue that the current wave of Italian/New Jersey programs are part of the legacy of this film. So...thanks?
Why it resonated: People find weddings dramatically interesting, and most people think their own families are embarrassing
General comments on the film: There's really not much to say about the artistic merits of the film, but it's worth considering how this little movie became a massive box office winner in 2002. Its comedy is broad and sitcommy, so it's not like audiences were struck by its genius, and the star power is of very low wattage--it's not like people were lining up to see John Corbett.
So how did this unremarkable work deliver one of the best returns on investment of its time? Why did it become a word-of-mouth phenomenon? There are several factors, but I think the most significant one is that the movie's depiction of a big, loud, overwhelming, and often embarrassing family during the planning and execution of a wedding appealed to people in two ways. Either they thought to themselves, "That's just like my family!" or they said, "What a zany over-the-top ethnic family! They're so different and cute!" In other words, the film courts both identification and spectacle. Leaving aside the question of stereotyping and cultural sensitivity, it presents what many "non-ethnic" people probably imagine these kinds of families are actually like. Having the hook of a wedding doesn't hurt either, especially for the target demographic of the movie.
I guess it's not surprising that interest in this kind of cultural tourism didn't have much staying power: the 2003 TV spinoff series My Big Fat Greek Life lasted only seven episodes. On the other hand, there are at the moment a handful of "My Big...Wedding" shows on television, and one could argue that the current wave of Italian/New Jersey programs are part of the legacy of this film. So...thanks?
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #13: The Great Escape
Why it resonated: Who wouldn't love to watch indomitable Allied officers try to stick it to Nazis, especially with an all-star cast of macho men?
General comments on the film: Going into this film, I only knew a few things about it: the infectiously whistleable theme song, the fact that it's about trying to escape from a Nazi POW camp, and the presence of Steve McQueen. These factors, combined with the title, led me to expect a grim but gloriously triumphant tale, but that is not what I got.
The film's nearly three-hour runtime pretty much splits into two movies: a mostly-comedy about planning the escape and an action movie about what happens after the prisoners bolt. The lightheartedness of the first half was slightly surprising, but what I really didn't see coming was how badly the whole caper would turn out in the second part. The original scheme aims for breaking 250 prisoners out of the camp to at least force the Nazis to waste manpower in recapturing them, but they only manage 76 before the machinations fall apart. Of those 76, we only see three potentially succeed in getting out of Germany, and 50 are killed. The film plays up the moral victory of momentarily escaping from what was supposed to be an un-escapable prison and causing a bit of enemy consternation, but it wouldn't be unfair to argue that it was more of a "great try" than a "great escape."
Of course, the movie is constrained by its being based on a true story, and what the prisoners manage to do is really impressive, but if it were remade today, there's no way the film would end with Steve McQueen and James Garner back in the POW camp (although they'd probably still have Donald Pleasance shot). A modern production would undoubtedly only be satisfied with the audience thinking, "Yeah! Take that, Nazis!" Instead, this film leaves you thinking, "Gee, the SS isn't very sporting, executing POWs like that rather than treating them like gentlemen officers like the Luftwaffe does."
Don't get me wrong--I'm not complaining about any of this. The lack of a riding-off-into-the-sunset conclusion by no means makes this an unsatisfying film. I was just expecting more of a victory along the lines of Victory (1981) instead of a final scene in which one of the most charismatic tough guy actors of the time ends up right where he started--locked in an isolation cell.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #12: Gone with the Wind
Relevant elements: Scarlett and Rhett, Tara, Civil War setting, making a dress out of curtains, "I don't know nothing about birthing babies," "Frankly, my dear..."
Why it resonated: The film took a wildly popular novel and applied the state of the art of filmmaking to adapting it, so it's no surprise that this became an instant classic.
General comments on the film: Several things have kept me from viewing this film until now: its four-hour runtime, my allergy to romantic visions of the Old South, a feeling that I was already familiar with the important parts of it, and so on. The only thing motivating me to watch it was guilt about skipping one of the pillars of film history, and that wasn't enough to overcome the list of cons.
Now that I've seen it, I can say that the things that made me avoid it for so long were certainly present in the film, but I was surprised in both positive and negative ways by other elements. Let me get the negatives out of the way. Even though it's a period piece, the film's gratuitous references to the antebellum code of gentility (riding in buggies in the afternoon without a chaperon is scandalous, young ladies take naps at parties, etc.) start to grate after a while, but not nearly as much as the general shrillness of the movie. And I'm not just talking about Prissy, although I quickly began to wish the collector's edition I was watching were a special version that automatically muted all of her lines. A full half of the characters seem to speak only in melodramatic shrieks and squawks, which I blame partly on the conventions of acting at the time but still find nerve-rattling.
On the other hand, it was fun to see the scale of the film's technical ambition, even when its process shots didn't quite succeed. Though it was used to the point that a third of the movie felt like it was shot in silhouette, some of the shadows-against-an-orange-sky shots were exquisite in terms of creating the perfect atmosphere. And that's to say nothing of justly famous passages like the slow crane pullback to reveal hundreds of Confederate wounded (and nearly as many obvious dummies). Despite being overstuffed with soap opera beats, especially in its last third, the film left me impressed with its ability to maintain a compelling story for such a long time, especially when compared to some of today's hit movies that gasp across the 86-minute finish line. This is a film that announces its grandeur right from the start and never lets you forget just how big it is, but while that often drags a movie down or turns it into a parody, somehow Gone with the Wind manages to bear up under its own weight, and that is no small accomplishment.
Why it resonated: The film took a wildly popular novel and applied the state of the art of filmmaking to adapting it, so it's no surprise that this became an instant classic.
General comments on the film: Several things have kept me from viewing this film until now: its four-hour runtime, my allergy to romantic visions of the Old South, a feeling that I was already familiar with the important parts of it, and so on. The only thing motivating me to watch it was guilt about skipping one of the pillars of film history, and that wasn't enough to overcome the list of cons.
Now that I've seen it, I can say that the things that made me avoid it for so long were certainly present in the film, but I was surprised in both positive and negative ways by other elements. Let me get the negatives out of the way. Even though it's a period piece, the film's gratuitous references to the antebellum code of gentility (riding in buggies in the afternoon without a chaperon is scandalous, young ladies take naps at parties, etc.) start to grate after a while, but not nearly as much as the general shrillness of the movie. And I'm not just talking about Prissy, although I quickly began to wish the collector's edition I was watching were a special version that automatically muted all of her lines. A full half of the characters seem to speak only in melodramatic shrieks and squawks, which I blame partly on the conventions of acting at the time but still find nerve-rattling.
On the other hand, it was fun to see the scale of the film's technical ambition, even when its process shots didn't quite succeed. Though it was used to the point that a third of the movie felt like it was shot in silhouette, some of the shadows-against-an-orange-sky shots were exquisite in terms of creating the perfect atmosphere. And that's to say nothing of justly famous passages like the slow crane pullback to reveal hundreds of Confederate wounded (and nearly as many obvious dummies). Despite being overstuffed with soap opera beats, especially in its last third, the film left me impressed with its ability to maintain a compelling story for such a long time, especially when compared to some of today's hit movies that gasp across the 86-minute finish line. This is a film that announces its grandeur right from the start and never lets you forget just how big it is, but while that often drags a movie down or turns it into a parody, somehow Gone with the Wind manages to bear up under its own weight, and that is no small accomplishment.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #11: Pretty Woman
Relevant elements: Cinderella storyline, Julia Roberts as a bankable leading lady, closing a jewelry box on someone's fingers
Why it resonated: People like romantic stories about people from different worlds, and Richard Gere's character is like an early 1990s version of Gordon Gekko who is sensitive enough to realize that greed isn't enough
General comments on the film: People kept telling me I would hate this movie, but my reaction was more of a shrug and some eye-rolling than apoplexy. Don't get me wrong--it's not a fine piece of filmmaking, as shown by the artless exposition of the opening scene that rushes us through the basics of Gere's character by having people at the party directly talk about what he's like, followed by not one pop-song-as-substitute-for-character-development during the opening credits but two. But none of the film's shallowness really irked me, since it's clear that the movie puts all of its eggs in the chemistry of the leads, to the point that complaining about the Disneyfied view of prostitutes and drug addicts ("You stole our rent money for drugs AGAIN? Oh, you're such a rascal! Hee hee!") feels petty. We're asked to judge the film solely on whether we like Roberts and Gere, and everything else is just incidental.
Based on that criterion, the film is a mild success, since I ended up not hating two actors I tend to dislike strongly. Roberts in particular only shows flashes of the annoying habits she would later develop, which made me wonder whether she should have just stuck to this kind of role. Gere pretty much did stick to the smug rich guy archetype, but he seems well-suited to it. Putting oneself back in the 1990 mindset, which is easy when there are Bo Jackson Nike ads and yellow Walkmen in the background, it's not too hard to fathom why this movie pleased so many people despite its lame writing ("We both screw people for money") and lazy filmmaking.
Why it resonated: People like romantic stories about people from different worlds, and Richard Gere's character is like an early 1990s version of Gordon Gekko who is sensitive enough to realize that greed isn't enough
General comments on the film: People kept telling me I would hate this movie, but my reaction was more of a shrug and some eye-rolling than apoplexy. Don't get me wrong--it's not a fine piece of filmmaking, as shown by the artless exposition of the opening scene that rushes us through the basics of Gere's character by having people at the party directly talk about what he's like, followed by not one pop-song-as-substitute-for-character-development during the opening credits but two. But none of the film's shallowness really irked me, since it's clear that the movie puts all of its eggs in the chemistry of the leads, to the point that complaining about the Disneyfied view of prostitutes and drug addicts ("You stole our rent money for drugs AGAIN? Oh, you're such a rascal! Hee hee!") feels petty. We're asked to judge the film solely on whether we like Roberts and Gere, and everything else is just incidental.
Based on that criterion, the film is a mild success, since I ended up not hating two actors I tend to dislike strongly. Roberts in particular only shows flashes of the annoying habits she would later develop, which made me wonder whether she should have just stuck to this kind of role. Gere pretty much did stick to the smug rich guy archetype, but he seems well-suited to it. Putting oneself back in the 1990 mindset, which is easy when there are Bo Jackson Nike ads and yellow Walkmen in the background, it's not too hard to fathom why this movie pleased so many people despite its lame writing ("We both screw people for money") and lazy filmmaking.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Cultural Gap Film #10: Dead Poets Society
Relevant elements: "O Captain, My Captain" and all that other inspiring teacher stuff
Why it resonated: Because it's always cool to reject conformity, man
General comments on the film: It wasn't until I started watching this film that I realized how little I knew about it. I was aware that Robin Williams played an English teacher in a prep school, but that was about it, so it was fun to have some moments of surprise and recognition: Ethan Hawke! The dad from That '70s Show! Lara Flynn Boyle? The film even quickly helped me figure out what year it was set in with a handy expositional speech that informed me that 1859 was one hundred years ago.
I know that as an English professor I'm supposed to identify with Robin Williams's character and all, but his taste in literature is so cliche and his apparent definition of poetry is of the "deep feelings" school that pretty much ignores the fact that poetry is made of words, not emotions. Lathering up buttoned-down teenagers with Romanticism is hardly difficult, or worthwhile for that matter. Not to sound like a wet blanket, but did those students actually learn anything about literature? I'd hate to see their standardized test scores, and if you asked them to write an analytical essay you would probably get back a bad open-mic poetry slam doodle about how they feel about the boxes society tries to force them into with its exams and formal essays.
While we're at it, let's take a look at the conflict in this movie. These privileged young men are totally bummed that their parents want them to be lawyers and doctors and go to good colleges and stuff. That's the worst-case scenario for them: they have to be wealthy professionals. I know it's tough to be bound by other people's ideas of what you should be and do, but I imagine there might be a lot of people in 1959 America who would trade problems with these rich white people. And by the way, playing Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream is pretty much the lamest act of rebellion I've ever seen.
I remember people being really inspired by this film, especially the desk-standing, Whitman-spouting final scene, but I don't really get it. Maybe you had to be there. The dated feel (not just because it's set in 1959) and the cinematographer's love of whirling didn't help. But it's possible I'm just peeved because the curriculum excludes Eliot, Auden, or any other poet of the first half of the twentieth century.
Why it resonated: Because it's always cool to reject conformity, man
General comments on the film: It wasn't until I started watching this film that I realized how little I knew about it. I was aware that Robin Williams played an English teacher in a prep school, but that was about it, so it was fun to have some moments of surprise and recognition: Ethan Hawke! The dad from That '70s Show! Lara Flynn Boyle? The film even quickly helped me figure out what year it was set in with a handy expositional speech that informed me that 1859 was one hundred years ago.
I know that as an English professor I'm supposed to identify with Robin Williams's character and all, but his taste in literature is so cliche and his apparent definition of poetry is of the "deep feelings" school that pretty much ignores the fact that poetry is made of words, not emotions. Lathering up buttoned-down teenagers with Romanticism is hardly difficult, or worthwhile for that matter. Not to sound like a wet blanket, but did those students actually learn anything about literature? I'd hate to see their standardized test scores, and if you asked them to write an analytical essay you would probably get back a bad open-mic poetry slam doodle about how they feel about the boxes society tries to force them into with its exams and formal essays.
While we're at it, let's take a look at the conflict in this movie. These privileged young men are totally bummed that their parents want them to be lawyers and doctors and go to good colleges and stuff. That's the worst-case scenario for them: they have to be wealthy professionals. I know it's tough to be bound by other people's ideas of what you should be and do, but I imagine there might be a lot of people in 1959 America who would trade problems with these rich white people. And by the way, playing Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream is pretty much the lamest act of rebellion I've ever seen.
I remember people being really inspired by this film, especially the desk-standing, Whitman-spouting final scene, but I don't really get it. Maybe you had to be there. The dated feel (not just because it's set in 1959) and the cinematographer's love of whirling didn't help. But it's possible I'm just peeved because the curriculum excludes Eliot, Auden, or any other poet of the first half of the twentieth century.
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