i'm a little hesitant to open the letter i am holding, which will tell me whether or not i received honors on my thesis. i don't think i'll be particularly upset if i didn't; rather, i am more concerned about my family's "death before dishonor" credo. if jeanine didn't like my thesis enough, will i be forced to commit seppuku?
UPDATE: it was nice knowing all of you.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Mini-essay: Blood Simple (Coen, 1984)
The inimitable and often intimidating Professor Jeanine Basinger teaches Senior Seminar to all her cinephilic underlings in their final semester at Wesleyan University. This year, I am one of those jaded senior film majors, and this year’s seminar subject is none other than the Master of Suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock. On the first day of class, Jeanine lectured on the three stages of Hitchcock’s development as a filmmaker, particularly in terms of how he manipulated his audience. The breakdown is as follows:
1. We share in the hero’s emotions and lose ourselves in joy.
2. We share in the hero’s emotions, but we’re glad he’s suffering – we are not losing ourselves, but rather entering a self that Hitchcock creates for us.
3. We share in the hero’s emotions and are glad he’s scared and suffering, but then we feel guilty about it, as though we as viewers are implicating the suffering. Our desire to see the hero suffer is actually causing him to suffer.
Jeanine argues that this third stage can be seen in such Hitchcock masterpieces as Psycho and Rear Window. After three solid months of immersing myself in Hitchcok’s body of work and watching three to five of his films per week, I reluctantly admit that I rarely experience this third level of manipulation as a film viewer. I’m sure it is my own shortcoming than the Master’s, but I began to question whether or not this theory really held water.
Enter Joel and Ethan Coen. Earlier this evening, I watched Blood Simple for the first time (I know, I know – bad film major!) in my Postwar American Independent Cinema class taught by Professor Lisa Dombrowski. I would undoubtedly consider myself a Coen Brothers fan, yet somehow their first feature film had, until now, escaped me. Perhaps it was because I tend to prefer their non-crime films; maybe it was because I was never really in the mood. But enough with my excuses. As I watched the film, my thoughts kept returning to Hitchcock (as they often do these days) and the three levels of audience manipulation. When Marty was crawling in the road and Ray shifted his car into drive, I thought to myself, “Yes! Do it! Come on, run him over!” when he failed to do so and exited the car, I was disappointed and a little annoyed with Ray. But moments later, as he dragged that shovel beside him and walked up behind Marty, I again thought, “Yes! Do it! Come on, hit him over the head with the shovel!” At this point, it hit me – I was implicating the suffering. The Coens had harnessed the elusive Third Level. And I realized that I was the most horrible character in the film.
As none of the characters in the film are particularly likable and all of them turn out to be murderers, this may seem like a farfetched statement. Yes, Marty hires Loren to kill his wife and her lover, but he has been cuckolded and feels betrayed by the both of them. Ray buries Marty alive, but he thinks he protecting his lover by doing so. Abby stabs Loren and eventually kills Loren in self-defense, as he is trying to kill her (even though she thinks he is Marty). And while Loren is a cold-blooded monster of a Private Eye, he murders for money – certainly not a noble motivation, but a tangible one nonetheless. I, the viewer, am the most immoral character, as I have absolutely no motivation for wanting these people dead.
When I ran this idea past my boyfriend, his response was, “Oh wow – that’s heavy.” Maybe it is. And maybe this isn’t a universal viewing response. Maybe beneath my vegan pacifist surface and cholesterol-free arteries, I am just a terrible, terrible person who wants to watch others suffer. The jury’s still out on that. But regardless of my possible schadenfreude, the Coens with Blood Simple reach a level of audience manipulation (in a positive sense, of course) that rivals even the most advanced and beloved cinematic achievements of Sir Alfred Hitchcock.
1. We share in the hero’s emotions and lose ourselves in joy.
2. We share in the hero’s emotions, but we’re glad he’s suffering – we are not losing ourselves, but rather entering a self that Hitchcock creates for us.
3. We share in the hero’s emotions and are glad he’s scared and suffering, but then we feel guilty about it, as though we as viewers are implicating the suffering. Our desire to see the hero suffer is actually causing him to suffer.
Jeanine argues that this third stage can be seen in such Hitchcock masterpieces as Psycho and Rear Window. After three solid months of immersing myself in Hitchcok’s body of work and watching three to five of his films per week, I reluctantly admit that I rarely experience this third level of manipulation as a film viewer. I’m sure it is my own shortcoming than the Master’s, but I began to question whether or not this theory really held water.
Enter Joel and Ethan Coen. Earlier this evening, I watched Blood Simple for the first time (I know, I know – bad film major!) in my Postwar American Independent Cinema class taught by Professor Lisa Dombrowski. I would undoubtedly consider myself a Coen Brothers fan, yet somehow their first feature film had, until now, escaped me. Perhaps it was because I tend to prefer their non-crime films; maybe it was because I was never really in the mood. But enough with my excuses. As I watched the film, my thoughts kept returning to Hitchcock (as they often do these days) and the three levels of audience manipulation. When Marty was crawling in the road and Ray shifted his car into drive, I thought to myself, “Yes! Do it! Come on, run him over!” when he failed to do so and exited the car, I was disappointed and a little annoyed with Ray. But moments later, as he dragged that shovel beside him and walked up behind Marty, I again thought, “Yes! Do it! Come on, hit him over the head with the shovel!” At this point, it hit me – I was implicating the suffering. The Coens had harnessed the elusive Third Level. And I realized that I was the most horrible character in the film.
As none of the characters in the film are particularly likable and all of them turn out to be murderers, this may seem like a farfetched statement. Yes, Marty hires Loren to kill his wife and her lover, but he has been cuckolded and feels betrayed by the both of them. Ray buries Marty alive, but he thinks he protecting his lover by doing so. Abby stabs Loren and eventually kills Loren in self-defense, as he is trying to kill her (even though she thinks he is Marty). And while Loren is a cold-blooded monster of a Private Eye, he murders for money – certainly not a noble motivation, but a tangible one nonetheless. I, the viewer, am the most immoral character, as I have absolutely no motivation for wanting these people dead.
When I ran this idea past my boyfriend, his response was, “Oh wow – that’s heavy.” Maybe it is. And maybe this isn’t a universal viewing response. Maybe beneath my vegan pacifist surface and cholesterol-free arteries, I am just a terrible, terrible person who wants to watch others suffer. The jury’s still out on that. But regardless of my possible schadenfreude, the Coens with Blood Simple reach a level of audience manipulation (in a positive sense, of course) that rivals even the most advanced and beloved cinematic achievements of Sir Alfred Hitchcock.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
had a really great workshopping session on my treatment today
that is all.
except that i am seeing xiu xiu at eclectic tonight (not film related, but still cool)
except that i am seeing xiu xiu at eclectic tonight (not film related, but still cool)
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
updates shmupdates
hello all my fans (yes, both of you)--
my schedule has been craycrazy since late august, so i have had very little time to do anything but work.
film-wise, i have (in spite of my better judgment) signed on to be production designer/art director for a friend's digital thesis film. i am in charge of all physical aspects of mise-en-scene, which is to say i'll be gathering costumes and props, helping to pick shooting locations, and creating the look and feel of the film's atmosphere. i barely have time to sleep (let alone view my mandatory daily episode or two of pee-wee's playhouse) , but i couldn't turn down such an exciting creative position, so add production designer to my long scary list of time-consuming commitments this semester.
in terms of my own shit, for those of you who don't know, i am writing a screenplay. here is what i tell everyone when asked what it's about: "it's-about-two-twenty-something-liberal-arts-school-graduates-who-get-kicked-out-of-their-brooklyn-apartment-and-are-subsequently-forced-to-move-to-a-remote-trailer-park-in-vermont" (this is said as quickly as possible before changing the subject so i don't have to talk about it more--i hate talking about myself and my ambitious undertakings). so yeah, that's what i've been up to. i also hate the second most frequently asked question i constantly receive when it is revealed that i am a film major, that being: "you're a film major? so what's your favorite movie?" sigh. if you really must know, my favorite film is fassbinder's the marriage of maria braun, followed in no particular order by the holy mountain, daisies, aguirre: the wrath of god, the tin drum, little otik, and hedwig and the angry inch. there, so now you know.
happy october, darlings.
my schedule has been craycrazy since late august, so i have had very little time to do anything but work.
film-wise, i have (in spite of my better judgment) signed on to be production designer/art director for a friend's digital thesis film. i am in charge of all physical aspects of mise-en-scene, which is to say i'll be gathering costumes and props, helping to pick shooting locations, and creating the look and feel of the film's atmosphere. i barely have time to sleep (let alone view my mandatory daily episode or two of pee-wee's playhouse) , but i couldn't turn down such an exciting creative position, so add production designer to my long scary list of time-consuming commitments this semester.
in terms of my own shit, for those of you who don't know, i am writing a screenplay. here is what i tell everyone when asked what it's about: "it's-about-two-twenty-something-liberal-arts-school-graduates-who-get-kicked-out-of-their-brooklyn-apartment-and-are-subsequently-forced-to-move-to-a-remote-trailer-park-in-vermont" (this is said as quickly as possible before changing the subject so i don't have to talk about it more--i hate talking about myself and my ambitious undertakings). so yeah, that's what i've been up to. i also hate the second most frequently asked question i constantly receive when it is revealed that i am a film major, that being: "you're a film major? so what's your favorite movie?" sigh. if you really must know, my favorite film is fassbinder's the marriage of maria braun, followed in no particular order by the holy mountain, daisies, aguirre: the wrath of god, the tin drum, little otik, and hedwig and the angry inch. there, so now you know.
happy october, darlings.
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