Ran (1985)

Frankly, Akira Kurosawa's film Ran is now one of my least favorite movies. Ever. While I respect its cinematographic merits, it was far too long and had some of the worst acting I have ever seen. Perhaps its my western culture, but all the actors were irritatingly over dramatic without ever being sympathetic in any sense. Not once in the two hours and forty minutes did I ever care what happened to any of them. King Lear, which the screenplay is heavily based on, is an amazing play that I loved reading in high school. Maybe I was just too preoccupied with thinking about the election that was unfolding to really let myself become absorbed into the presented reality, but I definitely will never, ever watch this movie again and I will never, ever recommend it to anyone.

Daughters of the Dust (1991)

Daughters of the Dust was a very slow-moving film, but I enjoyed the calm, smooth, story line. This movie could have easily felt like it was dragging, because there were no exciting plot twists or dramatic conflicts, but instead it was comfortable in its easy pace. The characters themselves were so interesting and complex that relaxed flow of the narrative allowed for time of personal contemplation and analysis of the situations and emotions.

Daughters of the Dust is probably too slow and contemplative for general audiences, who mostly enjoyed action-packed, dramatic films with clear conflicts and resolutions. I would argue that this film has none of these characteristics in their traditional sense. Instead, it is a tranquil exploration of a unique culture, with occasional eruptions of emotions over complex family and cultural tensions. It was a very interesting and beautiful film, although I probably wouldn't recommend it to many people, although I personally enjoyed it.

Casablanca

I was definitely surprised by how good Casablanca actually was. Its obviously a classic, and has been considered one of the greatest films for a very long time. So, I shouldn't have been caught off guard that I loved the movie (I haven't really met an old black-and-white film that I don't like), but it far exceeded my expectations.

I, somewhat embarrassingly, was quickly caught up in the drama of Rick's American Cafe, which was in the Moroccan city of Casablanca. The plot held strongly to Hollywood tradition, with a clearly intentional sympathy towards the main character (Humphrey Bogart) and his love interest (Ingrid Bergman), who were both trying to navigate through the French-occupied, and Nazi influenced, city. The characters were so sympathetic, in fact, that only halfway through did I realize how crazy it was that I was cheering for the woman who cheated on her husband while he was in a concentration camp! I didn't even realize how absurd (and horrifying) that actually was until then.

Despite that last point, I really liked Casablanca. It isn't incredibly innovative (as far as I am aware), but it is a great example of the so-called "golden age" of Hollywood. At least, it is incredibly entertaining and enjoyable.

Editing in "Man With a Movie Camera"

This was one of the most interesting films I have ever seen. Dziga Vertov's 1929 experiment in film has absolutely no plot, but explores aspects of Russian city life through a continuous montage of random images edited together. The editing of these images is intentionally obvious in an effort to force the audience to interpret the juxtapositions. Most modern audiences would not even consider Man With a Movie Camera a movie at all, because there isn't even a hint of conventional narrative. However, Vertov took a more unique approach in order to fully explore the artistic and technologic possibilities of the movie camera. It challenges the viewer to see the beauty and complexity in the seemingly ordinary objects in the world around us, through the innovative approach to editing.

Every single "scene" (it is difficult to pinpoint starting and ending points to scenes, if there even are any) could be extensively dissected to study the editing style, but some of my favorite parts are when two shots are forged together. Shown in the above picture, two seemingly unrelated images are edited together, creating a surreal or whimsical final image. Another example of this is the shot of a glass of beer, with the cameraman standing inside. The intention of Vertov's editing in these shots is difficult to guess, but the impact was unique. My reaction to those couple of scenes ranged from amusement to artistic appreciation (especially for the innovation in a time period of limited film technology).

Throughout Man With a Movie Camera, the shots are mostly succinct and random, with shock cuts dominating the transitions. However, occasionally there are breaks from this style, like when he fluidly dissolves repeated images of a woman opening her window into each other for a relatively extended shot. Those couple of seconds felt like a relief to my eyes after watching so many straight cuts. Perhaps this was intended as a visual aesthetic and a calming pause in the hectic morning of the Russian city.

I would definitely recommend watching this film (or at least segments), just as an appreciation for the possibilities of film as an art. There are no main characters or dramatic narratives to hold your attention, but the editing is unique in revealing truths without those conventionalities.

Raging Bull

Normally, I really dislike sport films. The plots are always predictable, as writers are usually more concerned with pleasing the crowds with an inspirational win than with creating realistically complex characters. Truthfully, I thought Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull was going to fit into the traditional sport-film mold. However, this boxing movie was much more unconventional, and I greatly enjoyed the film.

The opening shot of Jake LaMotta warming up in slow motion, with his boxing robe billowing and camera bulbs flashing in the background, drew me in immediately to the film. It had artistic merit, in the framing and beauty of the shot, but it also let the audience spend time thinking about who this man was. Jake is the only object to focus on, helping the audience connect with him. I also really liked the intricate and stylistic editing of the fight scenes. In other boxing movies, the fights are usually the most monotonous parts, and I can't wait for them to finish (How many times do I have to watch two guys punch each other?!). In Raging Bull, however, I was always anticipating the fight scenes. There was something really artistic and captivating about the varied editing techniques and photography-inspired shots. Those segments restored my interest in the film, which waned slightly after spending too much time listening to Jake LaMotta speak.

My favorite part about the film, however, is the fact that there is no Hollywood style ending, with the champion finishing as a hero. I always respect films that stay true to life and don't try to sell a movie off of its inspirational, and often unrealistic, grand finale. It was a gritty, realistic depiction of Jake LaMotta's life, without trying to force a message on the audience about overcoming obstacles. Raging Bull wasn't inspirational or emotionally moving to me, I enjoyed the realism and visual aesthetics of the film.