The End is Near

Well, here we are: the final blog. Fourteen weeks have passed and we’re ending it with the spectacularly spunky Run Lola Run. Run Lola Run was released in 1998, written and directed by Tom Tykwer, and stars Franka Potente as our protagonist. The plot of the movie surrounds Lola’s mad dash to come up with the 100,000 marks to save her boyfriend’s life in 20 minutes. In reality it’s more like Manni requests that Lola comes up with the money he lost to “pRovE HeR LoVe” for him or else he’ll take the easy way out and rob a bank himself. So Lola does what she must and attempts to find him the money some way, although it takes her two repeats to get it right; almost like a video game. Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen Run Lola Run. It was first shown to me in a freshman art class and I remember instantly thinking it wasn’t like any movie I’d seen before. That’s because Run Lola Run has a little bit of every genre in it: action, drama, adventure, romance. Not to mention stunning and unusual visuals, including an animation sequence that helps explain the time jumps in Lola’s journey. One of the aspects I enjoyed in Run Lola Run was the side-story snapshots of the background characters that Lola encounters, I really think it adds to the uniqueness of the film. In class we talked briefly about cinema du look, this combined with the running shots and jump cuts felt similar to the movement. But my favorite part of the movie was its aesthetic. It’s obvious that the movie holds a style that is unique to movies coming out in the late 90’s, the fashion as well as general look is easy to pinpoint, I might as well mention the similarities in Lola’s appearance and Leeloo’s in The Fifth Element.

One thing that stuck out to me after reading the Kosta essay on Run Lola Run, was the comparison of the movie’s narrative timeline to that of a video game as well as a cartoon. We all know that Lola gets three tries to get the money and meet Manni but it’s more than just a time jump. It’s like she has a certain amount of lives, when one is used up she must reproach her strategy and try again. I thought it was also interesting to compare the movie’s realm of reality to that of a cartoon considering there is animation already added into it. When you think about it, though, the movie does in fact imitate the fantastical worlds that we often see in cartoons. Characters have superpowers or events are exaggerated, Lola breaks glass with her scream, and situations are amped up to make for a more exciting outcome. So Run Lola Run really does feel a lot like watching a live-action cartoon.

It’s weird to think the semester is already over; time flies, right? The history of the motion picture, a trip from the development of film technology to a full-blown story telling medium. There was so much information packed into this course that it’s hard to believe we really started with the very beginning of film. If I were to pick my favorite topics discussed this semester it would come down to Italian neorealism, 80’s body culture, and the exploitation film & midnight movie circuit. In all of these topics we were able to see the depth that film reached as a diverse medium. In neorealism we see a different approach to storytelling through cinematography and narrative. In the week of 80’s body culture we looked at the way society influences the movies being created at the time. In exploitation we learned about the industry and the more alternative side of Hollywood. This course not only provided us with a vast array of lenses to view movies through but it also provided us with the skills to continue our learning.

As a naturally indecisive person I will not be choosing just one favorite screening as I cannot do that, so I will choose my top three instead. The first will have to go to Wild Strawberries, this was one that I enjoyed on multiple levels. I loved the look of the film, it’s dreamy feel, and the story itself. I had been awaiting when I would watch a Bergman film and this one did not disappoint, although I have yet to see more. I also related a lot to the existentialism of the film, so that definitely added to my enjoyment. My second favorite screening was The Bride of Frankenstein, what can I say? I’m a sucker for camp and over-the-top set design. What I really enjoyed about it was that it made me laugh, there were so many little things to love about it. And the big reveal at the end of the bride herself was enough to secure its place in my top three. My third and final favorite screening has to go to The Fly, any movie that can pull a visceral reaction out of me is one that I will remember. I also really enjoyed the concept of the abject in our discussion that week.

Another film class down, and a new minor added. Here’s to the next one!

A Slimy Story

What do you do when your body betrays you? When the skin you thought you knew so well starts to develop spikes and scales? When your brain gains the attention span of an insect and you feel more energized than you did as a child? If you’ve ever found yourself asking these questions, I suggest you see a doctor because you’re in a for a rude awakening. Of course, that may be privy to your experiences exploring the possibilities of teleportation like the main character, Seth Brundle, of our weekly screening of The Fly. Directed by David Cronenburg and released in 1986, The Fly exhibits the human fear of losing control over your own body. The 1986 movie The Fly is actually a remake of a monster classic created in 50’s, but if you were to ask me which one was more fear-inducing I’d have to go with Cronenburg’s. The reason for this lies mostly in the terrifying special effects that made me question my previously assumed stomach of steel.

This movie shook me to my core in a different way than most horror movies do. Instead of jump scares and murder, we watched a man slowly and helplessly lose control over his own humanity; physically and mentally. What inspires horror movies? The societal fears of the time. What was happening during the 1980’s? Jane Fonda’s at home workout videos and the rise of HIV/AIDs; a juxtaposition of people exerting obsessive control over their bodily appearance while also watching a virus with no cure claim the lives of thousands. The Fly reflects the fear of losing bodily autonomy, and it does it in more than one way. The type of horror it falls under has to do with the notion of abjection as defined by Julia Kristeva in her essay “Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection”. What Kristeva calls the abject is the border between what we define ourselves with as humans and our more animalistic side as organisms. We become uncomfortable with the abject because something that falls under this term does not play by the rules or identities we create for ourselves as humans; bodily fluids and the corpse are used as examples of the abject because they are the less appetizing realities of our mortality. The Fly uses this as an element of horror because it plays into the fear of one losing their bodily autonomy without their consent, without a way to fix it. We see this in Seth’s painful regression from man to giant humanoid fly. It’s devastating to watch him deteriorate and it’s equally as devastating to watch him lose the connection he held with Veronica.

But Seth wasn’t the only one who experienced this sense of bodily invasion. Veronica also experienced this upon finding out she was pregnant; we see her fear brought to life in a dream sequence where she births a fly larva in the middle of the night. This was particularly frightening to me because it triggered an old fear of parasites slowly feeding on my insides caused by too many nights watching Monsters Inside Me as a child. As someone who has never had an interest in having children of my own, I imagine this is what it would feel like to experience an unwanted pregnancy (a tad extreme but still relatable lol). Beyond the immediate visceral reaction this predicament caused, it was one of the sadder parts of the storyline as Seth begs her to carry the child to term as the last living part of him despite her wants. Of course he doesn’t really give her a choice, but I think it was an interesting decision to include the topic of abortion in this film considering it was the 1980’s and it is still a controversial topic to this day.

            I enjoyed The Fly, it was gruesome and slimy in a way that made me feel weird in my own skin. The notion of the abject is interesting and I’m curious why we, as humans, have a hard time accepting the more biological aspects of living. I often have to remind myself that outside of being a conscious being I also have an organic body made of flesh and bones. What a weird lens to look at ourselves through; not just as human beings but as a member of a biological species. Kinda grosses me out.

Dante’s Inferno

What an exciting week for our class, two interesting screenings and a talk with a real-life director! What an incredible opportunity to talk with one of the directors who contributed to this week’s topic in film directly. Joe Dante’s contribution to the midnight movie circuit and exploitation film is evident in our screening of Piranha and Midnight Movies: From the Margin to the Mainstream. Through both these films we gain a context of what types of movies were showing at grindhouses and college theaters across the nation as well as the type of people who viewed them. These often controversial and scandalous films pulled in an audience, a crowd, an accumulation of movie goers thirsty for the spectacle of what became known as cult movies. But what is a cult movie? Contrary to the title, cult movie are not movies that are strictly about cults, although you can definitely find a few (looking at you The Wicker Man). Now you can usually expect to find a cult film filled with raunch, sex, and drugs but those are all contributors to the audience’s interest in these films; the spectacle that makes them so tantalizing. But what defines a cult movie is the reception of its viewers or the hype that surrounds it. This is where the midnight movie circuit goes hand-in-hand with the phenomenon of cult movies.

Midnight Movies: From the Margin to the Mainstream uses six films to explain the development of the cult of a film. The movies that gained repeat viewers and ceremony-esque screenings vibrated a certain aura, often targeting a specific countercultural group. For example, El Topo played into the drug-culture present during the 1970’s while Pink Flamingos acted as a side-show attraction of filth. Both of these films exhibited content that wasn’t present in mainstream film and could only be viewed after hours amongst other curious voyeurs. Because of this, a community developed around these screenings and as a result: the films themselves. What’s so wonderful about cult movies is that there’s a movie for everyone’s niche and a village of people to celebrate it with. In cult film reception we see the development of fandom and worship for all aspects of a particular film. Group participation is often used to show your alliance to a film and sometimes there is even initiation processes as seen in screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Previously we learned about the merchandising of films like Jaws, fans often created merchandise to prove their dedication. You can find fanzines, playlists, fanfiction, poster art, you name it. Some films even have whole religions formed around them like The Big Lebowski’s Dudeism.

Last semester Dr. Schlegel offered a class dedicated to the study of cult films, it was the wildest areas of study I have explored and truly one of my favorite classes. For a medium that already allows so much room for study, it’s even more interesting to study the people that watch it.

Big Shark? Big Hit.

This week we had the freedom to vote on a movie for the class. I decided to revisit Jaws, hoping the few film classes I’ve gained would give me a new perspective (although I’m still working on finishing The Exorcist too). And I have to say it still hit as hard as it did the first time, this is a movie that never grows old. Jaws meets all the marks crucial to a successful movie: an interesting array of characters, a seemingly impossible challenge, and enough blood to make your skin crawl. Jaws stands as the first Hollywood blockbuster, a movie that is guaranteed to please crowds and really bring in the money. These days, the industry pumps out blockbusters every month but this wasn’t the case at the time of Jaws’ release. Jaws was created amidst the creative burst of ‘New Hollywood’, a time where directors were given artistic freedom. Many creatives took queues from old Hollywood genres and reworked them to fit their present, for Jaws this was the idea of the spectacle. What makes Jaws really interesting is the waiting the audience has to do for those delicious shark scenes, not to disregard the plot or cinematography, but the shark is what drew people in. Jaws also stands as an example of a movie that employed horizontal integration to make a profit i.e. merchandising. In fact, Jaws became a pop culture phenomenon, reverberations of the film can be seen in television, music and a slew of B-movie knockoffs. If you’re really interested in the hype that still surrounds the movie here’s a list of Jaws inspired things.

Something about these water level shots works so well.

Find that shark!

Part of Jaws’ sheer success though, was a result of its marketing and advertising. Jaws was marketed as a summer movie, not only was the content perfect for the weather but it was also something for the public to look forward to during hot summer days (although there was a decrease in beach attendance following the release). On top of a huge commercial television and radio campaign, what really stood out to me as a unique way of gaining public interest in the film was the team’s campaign to make the book it was based on a best-seller. This was done to ensure that anticipation for the movie would spread by word-of-mouth, so the advertising team mailed out copies to an array of ordinary people and businesses to increase its hype. They also made sure to match the cover design to that of the movie poster to make it more recognizable. All this effort ended up paying off, Jaws grossed $472 million at the box office. If something is successful it only makes sense to keep trying at it right? Wrong. Three more Jaws films were made after the original, none of which I will stand behind because they do not compare to the genius that was the first (I do not recommend).

Quint will always be my fav character

I’m nearing the end of my blog post but I have one more piece of Jaws that I must mention out of respect. The Shark! It’s no mystery that the great white we see in Jaws isn’t an actual shark, but it was a pretty impressive piece of equipment. The shark, known as Bruce, was created by production designer Joe Alves and animatronics legend Bob Mattey. But Bruce was not one shark, he was three; one to brush the ocean floor, one that moved from the left to the right, and one to move from the right to the left. You may ask, if there were three sharks why is there so little footage of them in the movie? Well, that’s because these sharks were anything but perfect. Unfortunately, the animatronics didn’t hold up well in saltwater, so they tended to malfunction a lot. This is why Spielberg often uses POV shots from the shark’s perspective. I wouldn’t say it’s a shame that the shark didn’t work though, the combo of John Williams’ score and Spielberg’s tiptoeing around the actual fish is what makes the shark so mysterious and frightening. When we do finally see the shark it’s even more of a shock; like a big reveal. Even with this production hiccup, Spielberg was able to create a masterpiece of a film that stands as one of my favorites. (More info on Bruce)

dinner time

If you’re interested in what happened to the Bruce’s after the reign of Jaws, here’s an npr article about the restoration of Bruce.

Melancholic Mediterraneans

Beautiful

Man, I don’t know where to start with L’avventura. I would love to write a long blog about its underlying meanings and themes but, honestly, it left me incredibly confused. L’avventura was directed by Michelangelo Antonioni and stands as an example of Italian neorealist cinema. If I gained any understanding of the film it was in its neorealist aspects, for example the long shots of characters walking from one place to another, showing every inch of the journey. The beauty of those shots kept me engaged through the melancholic narrative. If I were to use one word to describe my initial reaction to L’avventura, it’d be frustrated. Frustrated for multiple reasons: frustrated with my inability to easily grasp the film’s message and with the actions of the characters. But I believe this was the reaction Antonioni wanted to receive from this film, especially after reading the bfi article on post-neorealism. You see, Antonioni purposely swayed from the traditional Hollywood narrative structure. Film is an art form, and like art, everyone approaches it differently. As for L’avventura, it’s vague and open-ended plot leaves the viewer feeling as irritated and somewhat unfulfilled as the characters in the film. Here, we see a gaggle of well-off couples vacationing on the Mediterranean, not a care in the world, yet they all appear quite dissatisfied with their situations. This unsatisfaction leads them to commit self-deprecating acts, like running away, having affairs, or giving up on your search for your lost girlfriend to pursue her best friend (that last one really boggled my brain). And the worst part is, the characters are well-aware of that what they are doing is not in their best interests. In fact, it almost feels like a game for them, like a way to add a little flare to the mundane. Because the characters show no drive to change their dispositions (besides Anna of course), they get caught in the same cycles and the audience receives no resolution. I was astonished at how easily everyone returned back to normal after Anna’s disappearance, the whole situation seemed a bit too nonchalant; as if they expected her to just pop up again. Here’s a video that discusses the big question for Antonioni, “why?”

By approaching the film’s narrative from a different standpoint, Antonioni found a new way to communicate the emotions felt by the characters in the movie. Knowing this, I’m not surprised the film received a bad initial reaction because I too wanted to throw something at my screen.

I loved this shot

            I didn’t dislike the film, I swear! But if I did watch it again, it would be for the cinematography. Something about the shots of modern people walking through the decaying buildings of the old world was so beautiful and eerie. Perhaps it stands as a visual example of the way the postwar Italy was changing; the rubbles of the past juxtaposed against characters of the current.

Bergman’s Existential Spiral

I still have no idea what this symbolizes but it makes me really uncomfortable???

This year, at least for me, has been one of reflection and self-research. It’s been exactly one year since the U.S. went into lockdown; I know that’s probably the last thing everyone wants to think about. The reason I bring it up is because Wild Strawberries brought up a lot of questions that I found myself asking not too long ago (that I’m still asking, to be more accurate).I spent the first four months of the pandemic alone in my apartment here in Alfred; a shellshock that forced me to sit with myself and listen for the first time in a while. I related to Isak’s revelations on a personal level, not so much the old age part of it but more so the questioning of life. Who defines the purpose of life? Is my ability to be successful within a system worth it if it does not align with my personal desires? While I have yet to find the answer to these, I recognized my own inquisitions with those being asked by Bergman. I have not studied philosophy beyond personal digs, so I was quite surprised when I found myself drawn to the existentialism described in our assigned reading this week. What a better time to question the structural stability of society than during midterms. I joke to make it easier to digest, but Bergman wasn’t as kind. We can look at Wild Strawberries alone to dive into the existentialist abyss.

reflections, refections, reflections….

So, what is existentialism and how was it translated into film by Ingmar Bergman? The World Cinema textbook references the philosopher Jean-Paul Sarte to connect existentialism to Bergman. The meaning that I grapsed was that we all exist on this earth the same way that plants and other things exist, but we have no purpose unless we create one for ourselves. To find this purpose we play different roles in life and align ourselves with certain positions in society; but social standards do not define one’s identity. It is up to the person alone to observe and create what they, themselves, deem as successful and purposeful. It is easy to be told what you should be investing your time in, but it isn’t always as easy to invest your energy in things that aren’t generally viewed as worthy. A great quote that helped me understand this was,

“individual existence cannot be comprehended if systems of thought and institutions become a set of rational functions and obligations that force out the consciousness of one’s being. Sarte argues that these conceptual systems about the universe blind the individual to what the world is really like. One easily loses sight of oneself by accepting a social duty to some stereotyped role or concept that one happens to adopt or employ.” (pg. 191)

Easier said than done. In a sense it’s the age-old warning to not become a sheep, but it’s also so much more than that; as we can see in Isak’s reflections in Wild Strawberries. Here, we have a man who has spent his life climbing the ladder of success in the medical field and is receiving esteemed recognition for it. At the beginning of the film he is blinded by the triumphs of his professional life, unable to see the state of his personal relationships. There are two key moments that trigger him to realize the reality of how he’s spent his life: the first is Marianne’s call-out and the second is the visitation to his childhood summer home. In his old age there is much to unfold and from realization forms regret. Bergman’s films are highly conceptual and often surreal, so there is not a clear answer to what exactly this film is trying to say. But there is one scene that tied it all together for me, and that is what I am going to call “Isak’s awakening”. It is one of Isak’s dreams where he is being questioned in a schoolroom about what it means to be a doctor. Here Isak is asked to read a few lines written on the chalk board and he cannot, the script says something like “the role of the doctor is always to forgive”. As a doctor, he always must show care and, in a sense, forgiveness towards his patients. While Isak did do this, he wasn’t always able to do the same for his personal relationships. This led me through a whirlwind of questions. If your assigned role is to forgive, is your forgiveness still genuine or just another duty? I think this is what Isak questions in the way he may have “cared” for his family. After this, the roles become switched and Isak is now the one seeking forgiveness for the mistakes he made in his younger years from himself and from the ones he holds close. What’s so bittersweet about Isak’s journey to understanding is that it isn’t necessarily received by others. After trying to reconcile with his son and caregiver, they still treat him the same. I think this reflects on the subjectivity of existentialism; although Isak may have changed his outlook on life, those around him haven’t and still perform their roles.

This poster is lovely

I was going to speak about the way Bergman translated this through film techniques but now I feel a bit drained from all this “what does life mean?” talk. If you couldn’t tell, I enjoyed Wild Strawberries. I would have been just as happy to have seen the stunning cinematography and landscape. We talked in class about how this film may be received by the youth versus those with more years under their belt, I guess I will have to see for myself in twenty years.

Out of the Past and into A Witch-hunt

World War II left the world shaken and shocked at the atrocities of man. As soldiers and civilians processed the events that occurred during this time, they began to develop a darker outlook on the reality of the world. While there were celebrations of the end of WWII, the aftermath was still present and still grim. Across the U.S. and Europe, film was used as a means to process the trauma from the war. In the U.S. people were no longer as optimistic or believing of the Hollywood’s myths of a perfect world. WWII showed that reality does not abide to a moral compass; Hollywood had lied in their depiction of a completely ethical world. Congress was aware of how easily political agenda can be slipped into a film, and with the rise of Soviet communism in Europe, the film industry was targeted as a dangerous outlet. Hollywood took a dark turn when the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) began an investigation into its leading creators. Their intention was to weed out communist sympathizers; the start of the Hollywood blacklist. These were unruly times; trust was an unattainable commodity. Fearful and depleted, the U.S. responded by leaning towards darker themes to reflect the truth of human experience. Born from this loss of innocence was Film noir. Film noir can be described with both a visual and narrative lens, converging in their darkness.

Our screenings this week coincided to give a direct analysis of film noir as a genre. Out of The Past, directed by Jacques Tourneur and released in 1947 (the same year HUAC was developed), and is a staple in film noir. We can begin to understand the visual darkness of the film through its cinematography shot by Nicholas Musuraca. Film Noir is known for dramatic and beautiful black and white shots, all thanks to the use of low-key high contrast lighting. Night scenes are especially eye catching because the high contrast of the darks and lights within the shots highlight the actor’s features and emotion achieved by a chiaroscuro-like effect. The use of skewed angles and experimental camera techniques also contribute to translating the mood or emotion of the film. The visual language is meant to convey film noir’s subject matter which often falls within crime, tension and feeling trapped. But film noir differs from crime flicks because the real allure of the film is between the protagonist and their own internal struggle. Often, the troubled protagonist is running from the past or even a fear for what the future holds. In crime movies there is a resolution, in film noir that sigh of relief isn’t always guaranteed. Our screening of Out of The Past is a perfect example of film noir’s alternative direction from the classic Hollywood narrative. Our femme fatale may get what’s coming to her in the end, but it’s at the cost of the anti-hero’s life. Bringing Darkness to Light and our World Cinema textbook both described film noir as having a sense of emotional realism. They can be described as cynical, jaded, and often paranoid. A great quote from our textbook was:

“In all these films, the moral disintegration of the protagonist is visually depicted as a sociological reflection of the corruption of the American dream during the postwar paranoia of the Cold War.” (pg. 168)

While watching the few movies of film noir I’ve seen, I often find myself wondering how much worse can this get? Or how much worse can these two people treat each other? To me, the relationship between the hyper-masculine protagonist and the femme fatale is the real meat of these films, especially in Out of The Past. Jeff Bailey knows he shouldn’t pursue Kathie, but he does so anyway. And, man, she played him good. Film noir can be boiled down to a mixing pot of struggle, none of which is handled with logic or the right state of mind. The protagonist dangles the possibilities of their future in front of us, “This is what I’m going to do when this is over, when I’m free,” but hardly do we ever see that come to fruition as they are usually defeated by their own personal vice.

“Dirty double crossing rat!”

That being said, I enjoyed Out of The Past. After learning more about the genre I feel compelled to watch more. It’s still surprising to hear that these films had such a short production time, but I guess that explains the sheer amount of them.

Saddles and Surrealism

Where can I find a pair of Ma’s gloves

This week we focused on a variety of topics within film history and our screening of Ruggles of Red Gap. Ruggles of Red Gap was a delightful movie with a sweet message and had me laughing throughout the entire movie. Ruggles was directed by Leo McCarey and released in 1935 by Paramount Pictures. Ridiculous is a good word describe the events that happen throughout the film. In our previous readings we learned about comedic farce, the idea of using buffoonery or crude humor in improbable situations to achieve a higher level of humor. The works of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton are prime examples of this. Although Ruggles takes place in the wild west, I wouldn’t consider this a Western. In this case the setting is part of the joke and contributes to the farcical aspect of the film. Trying to type out the plot was a lot harder than I had thought because it’s a bit complex. It’s basically about Ruggles’ struggle to let down his guard as he acclimates to the wild west lifestyle, while also working as Egberts babysitter/valet, while also pretending to be a highly regarded British colonel. The punchline is that the Wild West is the complete opposite of what Ruggles is used to, but also exactly where he needs to be. While the portrayals of the wild west and of the upper class are blown out of proportion in a humorous way, there are also moments when they act as a comment on the differences in social class ranking. This was apparent in Mrs. Judson’s relief to hear that Ruggles is not actually a high-ranking military officer and in Ruggles’ recitation of the Gettysburg address. Although Ruggles’ constant repetition of the phrase “Every man is created equal,” came off as serving an agenda, I understand that this type of idealization of the U.S. falls in line with the notion of the American Dream.

If I had a dollar for every time Ruggles rolled his eyes…

The topic of class struggle and social unrest also relates to our readings this week on early French cinema. Much like Germany and the U.S., French cinema was heavily influenced by art movements of the time. The avant-garde marked a turn from traditional notions of what is considered art as artists began to create more experimental pieces within the modern art period. New mediums also developed from this period, making cinema’s technological advances an attractive art form for experimental artists. While the reading covers multiple movements, The Dadaists and Surrealists used art to comment directly on the elite bourgeois class. Dada’s use of nonsense and parody can be compared to the notion of farce in their expressions of anger with an industrial focused society. Surrealism took a similar approach with the intention to shock and confuse the viewer; the point being to dislocate the viewer from reality. Because of this, surrealist art is often described as dreamlike and fantastical. Previously we viewed a segment of Salvador Dali’s film Un Chien andalou, another experimental filmmaker that contributed to avant-garde cinema was Maya Deren. Our World Cinema book spoke briefly about her work but what made her stand out was her use of the camera to achieve optical illusions and effects. These included twisting or tilting the camera, close-up shots, and the juxtaposition of different images. Her work often deals with the body and domestic settings, for a taste of more inexplicable cinema check out her piece At Land. Confusing the viewer may seem like a bad way to make a statement, but for avant-garde it was a way of sticking it to the rich by denying them the media they so wanted to consume.

“I hope her bones are firm”

This week we focused on the early days of horror and the development of the monster flick. With The Bride of Frankenstein as our vehicle and Dr. S. as our driver, we touched on a multitude of topics that ranged from the film itself to the psychology of its creators. The Bride of Frankenstein was released in 1935 and serves as a sequel to the original Frankenstein film. Both were directed by James Whale and both starred Boris Karloff as Frankenstein’s monster along with Colin Clive as Victor Frankenstein. While this movie sports the title “BRIDE of Frankenstein”, the monster himself is the star of this film considering the only screen time left for the bride is in the last five minutes of the film (though her glam appearance is well worth the wait). There are many qualities of The Bride of Frankenstein that are unique to the movie itself. For one, the movie came off to me as more humorous than scary. Off the top of my head I can name a few memorable moments that made me chuckle. There is also sense of camp-like qualities to the film that we covered in class but are so darling that I might as well mention them again. I’m thinking of exaggerated costuming and set design, the overacting seen in the characters, and the undying commitment to the more ridiculous elements of this film. It’s the consistency of scenes that wouldn’t actually happen in a horror film that make it camp, and perhaps also ironic. For example, despite the attempts to portray Frankenstein’s monster as emotional and misunderstood he still senselessly kills random villagers multiple points throughout the movie for no reason. Not to mention the Mary Shelly themed intro to the movie. More examples could be found in any scene in which Doctor Septimus Pretorious appears as well, I don’t think I need to explain that one.

Ready to tell the tale of loneliness

Backtracking to the true intentions of this film, one can easily see that this it was meant to convey Frankenstein’s monster’s struggle to fit into an existence where he is feared. It’s very neglectful of Victor Frankenstein to abandon his attempt at playing god when the going gets tough, one can easily empathize with the monster in his search for a like-minded companion. Although the ending seems to resolve this when Frankenstein’s monster realizes the creation of a Bride was a mistake and frees Victor, who regrets his experiment, and kills Dr. Pretorious, who is unable to see the danger. I’m not sure how that reflects on the more subversive undertones of this film.

Iconic

This week highlighted the beginnings of early horror, from the silent era to talkies like The Bride of Frankenstein. As we explored the topic more deeply I began to see a trend in the monsters that star in these stories; they all seem to deal with a disfigurement of sort. The Universal Horrors documentary explains that the cause of this can be related to the return of soldiers that suffered permanent injuries from WWI. Horror can be used to view the anxieties of the pubic during its time. U.S. horror was heavily influenced by the films being produced by German filmmakers and more specifically German expressionism. As we read in the World Cinema textbook, German filmmakers aimed to show the subject’s inner psychological state of being. With the rise of fascism and marginalization of Jewish people in Germany, horror could be used to view the fears surrounding the events during the time period. The Universal Horror Documentary did a thorough job of explaining how the atrocities performed at Auschwitz influenced the subject matter coming out of Germany. The mad scientist, disfigurement, and the evils that humans can perform on their own kind were the themes that came out of this.

One of my favorite things about film as medium is the way it is able to tell a story at face value and unfold further to reveal complex themes and undertones. Early horror happens to fit the bill perfectly.

Marriage or Murder?

Lurking

Our first screening of the semester was Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927), directed by F.W. Murnau. Overall this movie had everything going for it, a captivating plot, beautiful cinematography, skilled actors, and a score that complimented the subject of the movie. For a simple plot, the beginning of the movie takes a turn for the extreme when our main character, The Man, decides the best solution for his unhappy life is to kill his wife and run off to the city with another woman. Although the plan was conceived entirely by the stylish city girl he is having an affair with, that doesn’t stop him from agreeing to the temptation of the city lifestyle. The plan is to take his wife out on a boat ride, drown her, and then play it off as though the boat had flipped over leaving only one survivor. Would this have worked? It just about does until The Man’s obviously aggressive body language gives away his scheme and the wife has to literally beg for her life. Here, The Man sees the flaw in his plan, paddles back to shore and then chases his terrified wife to the nearest train station. The train takes them into the city and things are tense, but now they’re stuck together. This is about halfway through the movie, according to traditional notions of narrative this is where the narrative should shift. After wandering into a marriage ceremony, the couple is then confronted with the state of their own marriage. The Man realizes he has not fulfilled his marital duty and begs his wife for forgiveness. Now, if it were me, the whole attempted murder thing would be a deal breaker but that’s beside the point. The Wife does end up forgiving him and the overall tone of the movie switches. What was once a story about a marriage in shambles, now is the tale of two people rekindling their love for each other. If you can get past the homicide thing the story becomes touching and even humorous.

hours after he was going to murder her :0

Looking back on the past two weeks of class, Sunrise shows how quickly film advanced to being capable of creating feature length motion pictures. Intertitles can be credited for helping move along the storyline in silent films, but with so few in the movie itself, Sunrise relied heavily on other means to communicate with the viewer. Murnau utilized dissolves to show the character’s thought process visually, an example of early special effects. The score was another piece of the film that I found myself relying on to understand the tone of certain scenes. I know many silent movies required a live pianist to accompany their screenings, but in Sunrise’s case the score was recorded. Another element that helped us further understand the narrative was the camera’s angle and position in relation to the subject. I was impressed by the use of tracking shots throughout the city, it gave a wondrous perspective to the couple’s adventure. If the story didn’t hold your interest, need not worry, the cinematography of Sunrise could fill you in. The lack of color in early film did not hinder its visual quality, there was so much beauty in the high contrast of black and white shots.

I have little experience watching silent films, so Sunrise really surprised me. If I were to narrow down what impressed me the most, it’d be cinematography.

I loved this image