The Horror!

The first time I saw Apocalypse Now was in a high school AP Literature class. We had just finished reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and were comparing it to this film interpretation of the novel. However, I re-watched the movie last night, and "the horror" of Captain Willard's physical and psychological descent into the jungles of Vietnam felt raw. Instead of objectively focusing on literary elements of the plot, I was free to become emotionally involved in the film and appreciate cinematographic elements.

It was interesting (and terrifying) to witness the situations and characters slowly intensifying in absurdity and bizarreness as Willard approached Kurtz's domain. At first it appeared as if the writers and director were just employing some black humor, like when Lieutenant Kilgore was discussing surfing conditions with bombs exploding and people screaming in the obliterated Vietnamese village behind him. I was caught off guard by almost laughing in the midst of such horrendous violence. It seemed as though a lot of the intention of the filmmakers was to bring attention to the absurdity of war. Now that I really think about it, Apocalypse Now probably has more in common with Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five than Conrad's Heart of Darkness (at least in terms of parallel themes).

But it only got more horrifying, with a crescendo of violence with the simultaneous murder of Kurtz and the sacrificial cow. I walked out of the room after the movie feeling as if part of my soul had been sucked out. That seems a little dramatic, but the imagery in Apocalypse Now is that extreme. There was a unique approach to portraying violence in this film. Instead of characters being immobilized by disgust, violence is just an expected part of their work. Willard is able to carry on a calm, seemingly normal conversation with the half-naked body of a local man hanging in the background. It is almost impossible to convey in words just how disturbing this movie is...I don't think i have a big enough vocabulary. I don't want to discourage anyone from watching this movie because it is worthwhile in the addresses psychological issues such as war, morality, and the human capacity for violence. Just be very careful if you have a weak stomach!

A Cinematographical Look at Le Scaphandre et le Papillon

Each shot in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was so beautifully crafted that it was truly art in motion. At times, I was almost pulled out of the movie illusion because certain scenes were so captivating visually that I wanted to stop and analyze it artistically. Despite those occasional moments, the cinematography contributes to, or rather creates, the poignant emotion in the film and draws the audience in to the world of Jean-Dominique Bauby.

One truly remarkable scene was a flashback taking place in Bauby's mind, taking the audience back to the day of his stroke. He is in Paris, and is driving away from his apartment in a brand new car. The scene shows the face of Bauby's wife, then actually transitions into her point of view (I believe this is the first time it is the first-hand perspective of anyone besides Jean-Do) as she watches him drive away. Instead of typical pan shot following a car driving away, the camera tilts until it is completely horizontal. It recreates the exact perspective of the wife as she was standing on the balcony looking down and leaning out to keep the car in view as it speeds off. To me, the shot seemed to have several layers of meaning. Because it was shot from the perspective of Bauby's wife and lasted until the car was out of sight, it seemed to reinforce the alienation between them that began on that day. Also, the unexpected twist of the camera was almost a foreshadowing of the abrupt nature of the stroke he was about to experience.

There are many examples in this film of excellence in cinematography, but this one scene seems a fair representation of the careful consideration put into each shot. Not only was this film aesthetically pleasing, but each moment of artful camera work had a clear purpose of conveying the emotional struggles of Jean-Do.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I first heard about this movie during the time of the last academy awards, when it was nominated for achievements in directing, cinematography, editing, and writing. This emotional true story about Jean-Dominique Bauby's struggles with "locked-in syndrome" definitely lived up to its award-season hype.

One of the first unique and intriguing aspects of this film is the use of subjective point of view shots that dominate the film. The way those scenes were shot helped me relate to the frustration Bauby felt as a result of his paralysis. The shots are incredibly exact to Jean-Do's vision...the screen would even slowly blur as tears filled his eyes and blocked his sight. Also, the camera would remain fixed while actors moved around it, which portrayed his inability to move his head and follow them. This amazing technique really helped me understand and personally feel the despair and distress of a stroke victim.

I think Mathieu Amalric gave an incredible performance Jean-Dominique Bauby. Instead of being allowed to convey emotion through body language and speech, he only had one eye he was allowed to move! Somehow, maybe through movement and blinking patterns, I was almost able to know what Jean-Do was thinking. I can't imagine the difficulty of the role. Also, I believe the character of Jean-Do's father (or "Papinou"), played by Max von-Sydow, is also worth praise. At first we see the father as a witty and loving old man, and later his emotional break-down as he talks to his paralyzed son over the telephone. His genuine emotion was incredibly stirring.

The imagery in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was so beautiful and meaningful in its symbolism. My favorite scenes are when it cuts to Bauby hanging in a great empty space of water, trapped inside his diving bell...it really drives at the true nature of his terrible syndrome. However, to counter that dragging feeling, later there are airy and light scenes following a butterfly as his imagination develops and his spirit is uplifted. The montage scenes of Bauby's memory and imagination are beautiful in their randomness, and really make this film unique.

Psycho: The Remake (1998)

I have rarely ever enjoyed a remake of a good film, and, unfortunately, the 1998 remake of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho was not an exception. Gus Van Sant's worthy goal of trying to bring a classic film to a younger generation resulted in just cheapening the masterpiece. He was trying to reinterpret the Psycho plot through color, quickened pace, and stylistic differences in acting. However, he copied Hitchcock's film almost shot-for-shot cinematographically and nearly line-for-line. There was not a bold enough deviance from the original to be able to judge the 1998 film independentally, and so Van Sant's film simply fell short as a reflection of Psycho.

One of the first distracting aspects of this remake is the color scheme. The original version depended on important color symbolism that used shades of black and white, and Van Sant's film did (I think) attempt at continuing that idea. However, the color and pattern choices of wardrobe and set design were so outrageously mismatched with bright oranges and greens screaming out at the audience that I was almost too distracted to think about anything else. The intention may have had significance, but I would rather have no symbolism than have it blaring from the screen.

The 1998 movie also seemed to move at a speedier pace than the 1960 one. While the introductory bedroom scene in Hitchcock's film set up the relationship between Marion and Sam (which in turn created a motive for later stealing the cash and helped the audience sympathize with the doomed Marion), Van Sant's Psycho sped through it. After the few choppy minutes they spent together in the movie, I'm suprised audiences didn't completely forget about Sam as a character! Whether due to the flippancy of Anne Heche's line delivery or the fast editing of the scene, neither character seemed dedicated to marriage...especially not to the point of major theft.

All in all, I felt too many little unique aspects of Hitchock's original Psycho were compromised by Van Sant in the attempt to rejuvinate the film for a younger audience. Things that made Psycho so great, like the long, drawn out scenes that provoked anxiety and discomfort in the audience, and the unpredictable nature of the story (I think its far too easy to realize that Vince Vaughn's Norman is the "psycho" dressing up like a woman) are completely absent. It may have been good as a cheap thriller, or even for a laugh, but it definitely was not a creative or insightful interpretation.

Psycho (1960)

It is amazing that one of this film's most shocking sequences ("The Shower" scene) has become instantaneously recognizable, yet still can surprise a first time viewer. Despite my previous knowledge of one of the most important developments in the plot (I was already aware that the film's protagonist, Marion, would eventually be murdered in the shower), this film was so well-crafted that I nonetheless experienced terror and complete disbelief when the moment finally came. While my reaction was probably slightly less terrified than the original first 1960's audience, we most likely shared the confusion caused by the untimely and completely unexpected timing of Marion Crane's death. As I watched her step into the shower I remember internally calculating the length of the movie, because there was no way Hitchcock would kill her off already! He can't do that! The heroine is supposed to live at least three-quarters of the movie! I can only imagine what it would have been like to see this film without its content having already been ingrained in our culture.

I did enjoy being able to piece together the parts of the story that, sadly, I already knew (which were also the most important twists in the plot: the shower scene, the revelation of Norman's psychotic tendencies) and the parts that actually explained the rest of the story. Throughout my first viewing of Psycho I admit I was distracted by the seemingly unexplained and random events, such as Marion stealing a large sum of cash from her employer. Only after watching the movie a second time did I realize Hitchcock purposefully avoided situations that would obviously foreshadow these events or hint at things to come, which is almost expected by movie audiences. No one could guess the first time around that Marion would actually steal the cash, because nothing in her countenance or attitude gave it away. Hitchcock wanted the viewer to be just as surprised as her boss, and even she, was! It is a masterful move on the director's part, which keeps the audience surprised instead of expecting.

While many critics have apparently decided on a "slasher" label for Hitchcock's Psycho, I think its multidimensional and character-driven plot are too deep for that shallow genre. One of the most surprising elements of this film is that instead of always hating Norman Bates (whose creeper attitude and violent acts would typically invoke that reaction), I often sympathized with his character. For example, when he is cleaning up the bathroom after Marion's murder, I admit I felt a twinge of anxiety that he would miss some piece of evidence...even though earlier I had felt more loyalty to Marion's character! This happens again when Norman pushes the car containing all the evidence into the swamp and watches as it stalls in its descent. Clearly, Psycho is not a typical "slasher" film, but contains important and complex emotions that shape the film into a masterpiece.