Tuesday, September 29, 2015

No one in the apartment is awake, but it isn’t quiet. A chorus of frogs sings outside in the pond, the dry, cold air from the vent blows quietly as it sends chills up my spine, and the low hum of the air conditioning unit goes on and on relentlessly. The darkness outside makes it seem like it should be quiet, but the more I take notice, the louder and louder the collective noise becomes, broken only by the screeching of wheels in the distance or the loud croak of a bullfrog.

A dim lamp sits on the opposite end of the room, the light barely reaching the desk – my fumbling hands lit by the bright screen of the laptop.  My pen scratches across the tablet furiously; the poorly made nib has been overused and sharpened nearly to a point. A mug of once hot, fragrant lavender tea, now cold and forgotten, sits off to the side. Above the desk lies a cluttered cork board, scattered with tokens of inspiration that do not seem to inspire when you are running thin on time and trying to keep your trembling hands steady.

Every now and then a muffled snore or shuffle will come from the bedroom, and I’m reminded that I can’t afford the luxury of a good night's rest - not tonight. I know that others have it worse, but being keenly aware of the strain that lack of sleep will put on my body the following day has a way of dampening my spirit. I know that this night, this week, this month is merely a blink in time in the grand scheme of things, but anxiety seeps in and I can’t look away.

The blue light of the clock by the door seems to burn into my mind, even when I’m not stealing glances. 1:15 AM. 3:37 AM. 4:45 AM.  There is a progression of emotion that comes with the stages of time passing, and I try to drown my doubts with music that I’ve played time and time again. I keep the sound low, and my tired mind latches onto the rhythm that it offers.

The chair seems to become less and less comfortable the longer I stay put. Cramped into a corner, the little desk feels claustrophobic, and the dim lighting doesn’t help much. A small flash drive blinks a bright orange aside a tangle of cords protruding from the laptop. The clutter is frustrating. During the brief moments that I set down the pen, my fingers don’t seem to function properly. They were so molded into the shape of the pen and the abrupt, repetitive movements of the strokes that even typing becomes a challenge.

I reach a point where I have done all that I can do. The laptop is closed, the light switch is off, and I stagger through the darkness, reaching out for the door, grasping thin air. The sterile bathroom light is incredibly bright, and it burns my eyes as I go through the motions, still compelled to treat this like any other night. I crawl into bed while it is still dark, not wanting to see the sun rise. The fan buzzes above me and the blankets feel heavier than they should. My racing thoughts begin to dim.  A mourning dove calls softly outside.

There is a sinking feeling.

I blink.


The unwelcome alarm rings out from my phone on the other side of the room. My eyes sting. If only the sun would stay down for a few more hours.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

True Grit and the American Mythology

After reading True Grit, I can clearly see why it would be a reflection of American mythology. 

The primary mythology displayed is that of the Western. Having seen multiple Western films prior to reading this, I already had a feel for how a frontier story would come across. True Grit did not fail to provide. First and foremost, the Western as a genre is perhaps the most distinctly American genre there is.

The desert setting, the cowboy figures, and the rough and tumble, risky business plots are inherently American in that they reflect some of the most romanticized days of the country’s history. They seem to shout out “freedom!” and “justice!” and emphasize the role of hard work and determination in a successful life. In this case, Mattie pushes through her struggles to avenge her father’s untimely death, and although she faces many hardships, her bravery was rewarded when justice was served in the end.

I feel that that is a reflection of the greatest American mythology of which the American Dream is grounded upon: hard work leads to success. Whether that be saving up money for a new house, or persisting in serving justice in a murder case, it all can be derived from that same basic statement. Alongside hard work leading to justice is the concept that wrongdoings will come back to bite you. Villainous characters get tastes of their own medicine – Tom Chaney can’t escape his actions forever, and he loses his life as a result of not taking responsibility for his actions.

This line of thought also leads to the theme of American morals. Mattie aimed to be a lawful individual, and do things the right way as a good member of society. Even though she and her company may have bent the rules in terms of what could strictly be considered “right” or “wrong” (murder is murder, thieves or not), the morality was still aiming in the direction of justice. We viewed Mattie as a generally law-abiding individual, and although she, Cogburn, and La Boeuf may have taken things into their own hands, we still felt that their actions were warranted, and that their morals were on the right end of the scale – and thus we rooted for their success.

I also feel that an “underdog” theme played a role in the American mythology presented here. A prominent American sentiment is that anyone can rise to the occasion – the poor can become wealthy, the uneducated can become educated, and so forth. So when a young, now fatherless girl (who is also subject to the inherent sexism of the time) seeks to accomplish a lofty goal amongst seasoned, adult male professionals, she is able to do so despite how unattainable others claimed it would be.


And so, True Grit weaves an American mythology: a morally sound underdog’s bravery and hard work overcomes the wrongful actions of a criminal. Justice is served.


Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Values

A few of my most important values:

  1. Kindness
  2. Honesty
  3. Loyalty
  4. Ambition
  5. Empathy

The graphic novel, Persepolis, has an extreme sense of honesty to it as an autobiographical work. The author's telling of her past feels extremely real and shows a raw version of her life - flaws, mistakes and all. Marjane Satrapi  does not work to cover up the unruly moments of her past, but instead uses them to construct a believable world that we can further empathize with. Herself as a character is not portrayed as a hero, but rather a person just like anyone else placed in the particular circumstances that life has thrown at her - it is this that seems to shine through in regards to the value of honesty.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Stefan Zweig to Wes Anderson

Upon reading a selection of Stefan Zweig's works, including the short stories, A Star Above the Forest, A Summer Novela, and The Governess, I was quickly drawn into the characters and absorbed by the writing style I was presented with. Although I had never seen The Grand Budapest Hotel before this viewing, I was familiar with Wes Anderson's work and thus had a general sense for the visual style his films maintain. In reading these selections, I felt a similar reaction to that which I would experience during a Wes Anderson film. Although two completely different mediums, I found that they seemed connected, and the film's style felt as if it was a translation of the written style of Zweig.




Perhaps the most compelling similarity of both the written works and the film was the attention to detail. Everything felt in place and grounded to the world that was being spun. The tiniest details and subtleties were touched upon in Zweig's writing - to the point in which I could clearly picture the scenes described, and seemed to feel the emotions of the characters as they worked through their complex thoughts. The film relied heavily on detail as a stylistic choice. Every aspect of the set was carefully thought out, so that even when the setting might not be familiar to the viewer, it still felt believable and absorbing. The attention to detail in both works helped to create a romanticized layer of “realness”.

Even the style of dialogue in Zweig’s work shone through in The Grand Budapest Hotel – particularly through M. Gustave. The dialogue felt refined, and almost poetic at points. The general mood of the writings translated to the film just as well. Even the darkest moments still maintain a light, airy quality. All of the short stories that I read had a theme of loss to them – whether that be along the lines of a physical loss of life or a more emotional loss of innocence or youth.  Still, I never felt burdened when reading them - almost as if I was viewing things through a rose-tinted glass. A similar effect is achieved in Wes Anderson’s film – the very pastel color palate was certainly used to it’s advantage, and the flat staging drew the viewer out just enough to provide a pleasant, story-book feel – even in it’s darker moments.


After reading a selection of Stefan Zweig’s work and watching The Grand Budapest Hotel, it is clear that Wes Anderson’s film was influenced by multiple defining traits of the written pieces – attention to detail, mood, and dialogue are surely just a few of the ways that the Zweig’s writing was translated into the film.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Ringu - Conveying Tension

Upon searching through the screenplays available, the film Ringu caught my eye. It sounded familiar, and upon further inspection I noted that it was the film that inspired an American version titled The Ring. I have seen neither, but I knew from word of mouth that The Ring was in the horror genre, and decided that something along those lines could be rather entertaining to read.

Beginning with the very first scene, the screenplay set up an unsettling tension and sense of anxiety, which immediately conjured up an image of what a director of photography might have envisioned for this film.

Camera angles and composition would play a large role in conveying the emotional states of the characters throughout the film. High angle shots would be used frequently to make the characters seem powerless. Enclosing the characters tightly in the frame or compositionally amongst the set could be utilized to bring out a sense of entrapment and loss of control. Intimate close-ups would be used at times of realization and terror, in order to emphasize the intense emotions of the characters and create an unsettling experience for the viewers.

The lighting of the film would become gradually but progressively more dramatic and low-key as the story moved forward - to draw the viewers into a more concerned state as the situation became more dire. An overall shadowy look would be utilized throughout the film. However, I imagine the first scene of the film would be bright yet cool in temperature, as to not fully prepare the viewer for the sudden death of Tomoko. It is then, after the initial shock,that the lighting would begin to transition, from the bright office setting towards the climactic scene of near total darkness in the well under the cabin. Overall, the film would maintain a rather dim and dark look, and perhaps be tinted a barely noticeable blue to provide a subtle, cold feeling.

The actors themselves would be lit and shot in a manner that would bring out the shadows both on themselves and around them; conveying a sense of mystery and uncertainty. However, there is an exception to this. Yoichi, the son, would be lit quite brightly with the help of star lighting, to make his innocence and his role as a motivational factor shine through. He is the driving force that propels his mother, Asakawa, to continue pushing forward despite the energy-draining and seemingly hopeless situations.

The cursed video scenes, the most important factor of the film, would be shot close up, with the character in each situation pressed closely into the frame in a claustrophobic manner. The bright light from the television set would silhouette the character’s bodies, and as a result they would feel absorbed in the video and unable to escape the grip it would have on them. Visually conveying the fear, the confusion, and the uncertainty of the characters in the film is perhaps the most important job as a director of photography

All in all, I enjoyed reading the Ringu screenplay and hope to watch the film itself in the near future, and see how it goes about portraying the emotions that I found to be so instrumental in the written work.