Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Persisting Vision

Back in the day, movies were commonly called motion pictures.  This is actually a very accurate description of what is happenning when we see a movie.  We are technically not actually watching anything move, but a series of still photos in rapid succession.  The reason this all works is because our eyes trick us into thinking we're seeing motion by a momentary delay in the senses called "persistence of vision."  There are some films that take this idea of pictures to a masterful level.  They could almost be called moving paintings.  Films that are so striking visually that they move us to the deepest parts of our souls.  Here are a few of my favorites.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968 directed by Stanley Kubrick)

I know a lot of people who have tried to watch this movie and just couldn't make it.  There is no doubt, it's long and slow; in fact, most of the movies I'm talking about here are long and slow.  I list this one first because, in some ways it is such a quinticential example of visual storytelling.  Music, sound effects, and image work together with very sparse dialogue to tell a simple, yet sweeping story about nothing less that who we are, where we came from and where we're going.  One of the issues with the movie that many find difficult is the sterility of the settings and the long takes and sequences of routine.  This is Kubrick's way of  taking a totally new direction in the 'spaceman' story.  Up until 2001, science fiction movies were action packed (and usually mediocre) space operas about the excitement of space travel, encountering strange creatures and blowing them up.  2001's approach is realism and the reality is this:  much of space travel is dull and routine.  Several NASA astronauts have even gone on record saying that 2001 is the most accurate depiction of space travel on film.  Of course, the great visual masterwork of the film is the final "stargate" sequence in which Dave Bowman (Keir Dullea) is hurtled through a portal of magnificent vision and scope that has been often imitated, but never duplicated, finally arriving in a place that ultimately hurtles him to be reborn as the next stage of human evolution.  Ironically, when athiest Stanley Kubrick was asked what 2001: A Space Odyssey is about, his reply was:  "God."  As a person who does believe in God, my perception of the film changed drastically after viewing it through this lense.  Despite all of it's dogmatic assertions about about evolution and the guides (and perhaps creators) of human beings being alien overlords, 2001 remains a monumentally spiritual movie experience.

Keir Dullea about to take the ultimate trip
 
If you get through 2001 give these a shot Solaris (1972 directed by Andrei Tarkovsky and don't bother with the Steven Soderbergh remake),  Star Trek:  The Motion Picture (1979 directed by Robert Wise--don't laugh!  This is a highly underrated, serious science fiction film that actually touches on many of the themes of existence central to 2001),  Blade Runner (1982 directed by Ridley Scott--the dark beauty of this film is unsurpassed.  Be sure to check out Alien and Prometheus also by Ridley Scott for more twisted beauty, especially the Alien work designed by H.R. Geiger.)  Wall-E (2008 directed by Andrew Stanton.  The best science fiction film in a decade is also the best love story in a decade and the best family film in a decade.  One of my favorites ever.)

The Red Shoes (1948 directed by Michael Powell and Emerich Pressburger)

 The Red Shoes was a life changing experience for me.  No, I didn't decide to become a ballet dancer, but I realized just how beautiful a movie can be.  I didn't expect to even watch the film in one sitting the first time I sat down to watch it.  After all, how much could I possibly like an old British movie about a ballet troupe.  The answer turned out to be:  a whole lot.  I could not pry my eyes away from this film for a second and this was seeing it on the lousy, faded, pre-restoration DVD.  Watching it again in its restored version on Blu-ray brought it to life even more.  The most conventially narrative film of those named here, the story is a simple, backstage story about a chorus dancer and a bohemian composer both rising to the height of fame in the ballet world and all the bumps along the way.  The execution is nothing short of astounding.  Much of the credit is due to Jack Cardiff, the legendary cinematographer, and his brilliant Technicolor photography on this and several other Powell/Pressburger films.  If you have never seen this film, trust me, take a chance and watch it.  I am generally not a fan of dance movies, but The Red Shoes jumped into my top ten favorite movies immediately after I finished watching it.

The Red Shoes influenced many, many films.  Here are a few others to check out.  Singin' in the Rain (1952 directed by Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly and still the greatest movie musical of all time.  So much fun it should be illegal.)  An American in Paris (1951 directed by Vincente Minnelli--George Gershwin and Gene Kelley:  not a bad combination.  The American in Paris ballet sequence in particular is evocative of The Red Shoes.)  Black Swan (2010 directed by Darren Aronofsky.  I really like the first part of this movie.  I don't think it works as well when it heads into weirdsville at about the halfway point, but still worth a look.)

The Tree of Life (2011 directed by Terrence Malick)

The Tree of Life plays out like a person looking back on a long life experiencing snapshots of memory that shaped who they became most profoundly and finding that those things are not only the big events, but the details of life.  The death of a brother plays alongside planting a tree with a father and a mother washing her bare feet with a hose.  The film does no less than go back to the origins of the universe and forward to a heavenly reunion.  The sweeping epic is about the biggest questions most of us ask at one time or another:  why does God allow bad things to happen?  Why should I forgive?  Where is God when I am in pain?  It is important to note that the film begins with this quotation from Job 38:  "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?" A moment that is echoed by the mother (magnificently played by the luminous Jessica Chastain--yeah, I think I may have a movie star crush) calls to God in prayer after the death of her son "where were You?"  This moment leads us into the breathtaking sequence starting with the creation of the universe and leading up to the very lives of individuals.  There isn't much use talking about the movie, it simply must be seen.  And be sure to take the advice of the text at the beginning of the video release and play the film loud.  The subtlty of the sound is as important as any of the magnificent visual elements.

There is really nothing else I can compare The Tree of Life to except for the possible exception of The Thin Red Line from 1998 also directed by Terrence Malick.

Metropolis (1927 directed by Fritz Lang)

One of my absolute favorite silent films (along wth Buster Keaton's The General), Metropolis stands as the greatest of the German Expressionist films of the 20's, which is quite a feat considering other Expressionist films like the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu.  It paves the way for all science fiction to follow from Frankenstein to Star Wars, its influence can be found everywhere.  The story deals with extremes in class.  The rich live in highrises in the beautiful city while the poor live and work as slaves underground, providing the works to the city above.  The images of totalitarianism evoke George Orwell's 1984 which would be published twenty-one years later.  The other major element is the story of a mad scientist (crazy hair, black glove and all--Dr. Strangelove anyone?) who toils to create a mechanical version of his dead wife.  The robot woman then leads a worker's uprising that threatens to destroy the city, but is stopped by our hero, who, in the end, manages to bring the workers and the rich together before the closing epigraph:  "The mediator between the head and the hands must be the heart."  If it sounds melodramatic, it's because it is.  Most silent films are, they are, after all, conveying story, theme, and everything else movies convey through facial expression and without dialogue.  Sure, title cards are a part of almost every silent, but only sparsely in the best of them.  Film is, after all, a visual medium and few films are as visual as Metropolis.  The visual effects still hold up and many of the methods used in the film are still in use today.  For decades, huge sections of the film were lost.  Recent discoveries around the world have restored virtually all of its original three hour length.  Thankfully, Fritz Lang kept meticulous notes which aided greatly in the reconstruction of this near perfect film.

After watching Metropolis, see how much it influenced other films like Frankenstein (1931 dir. James Whale) Dr. Strangelove:  Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964 dir Stanley Kubrick) and Star Wars (1977 Dir. George Lucas--you'll notice that C-3PO looks an awful lot like something that came before, and yes, it was on purpose.)

Ran (1985 directed by Akira Kurosawa)

I'll wrap up this post with a true masterpiece, created by one of the few true artists of the film medium.  Japanese master Akira Kurosawa's Ran (which, roughly translated means Chaos) is both sweeping and intimate, dealing with nations and family, old age and youth, war and peace.  It is a film of contrasts pitted against one another.  The plot is drawn loosly from Shakespeare's great tragedy King Lear and transplanted from pre-Christian England to feudal Japan on the cusp of modernity as the samurai began to set aside their bows and take up the rifle.  Like Lear, the story begins with an elderly ruler setting aside his power and divinding it among his three children (sons here, rather than daughters as in Lear), the youngest of whom refuses it and is therefore banished.  The old man, Lord Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai), is then betrayed by the two older sons (prodded to do so by the same conniving and vengeful woman played with luster by Mikeo Harada) and is himself sent into banishment along with his fool where he soon goes insane.  His only benefactors are people he severely hurt before relinquishing his power including a man he blinded who has become a beggar, a woman whose family he murdered and the very son he banished.  Like Shakespeare, Kurosawa cuts to the heart of human nature and holds the mirror up to life hoping that we can see the same flaws in ourselves, but make choices that will lead us into light rather than darkness.  Visually, there is little that compares with Ran.  Each shot is composed with a painter's eye.  In fact, Kurosawa, while trying to secure financing for the film, painted on large canvases each shot for what would become Ran, essentially storyboarding with oil and canvas each composition and every detail for the final product.  Despite its bleak subject matter, the film is one of the most beautiful, vibrant and colorful films ever made.  Yes, the film is subtitled and the performances are drawn from the classical Japanese noh theater style, which is very different from what is normally seen on film, but don't let that throw you.  Ran is truly one of the ultimate film viewing experiences.

Also check out Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000 dir. Ang Lee), Kwaidan (1964 dir. Masaki Kobayashi--a collection of traditional Japanese ghost stories) and Kagemusha (1980 also directed by Akira Kurosawa--sometimes called the dress rehearsal for Ran, Kagemusha is a great film in its own right).


This is just a start.  I haven't even touched on Citizen Kane, Vertigo, The Last Laugh, Apocalypse Now, and many, many other films that could be discussed in the category of great visual films.  So, if there's anything here you haven't seen, give it a shot and let me know what you think.

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