I'm rather intruiged by the coincidence of this film being released within a year after Jean-Luc Godard's masculin feminin. I realize the mistake of comparing Oshima and Godard (as Criterion's packaging foolishly does) but there are some rather interesting similarities between the two films, similarities which reach toward similar messages. Of course, a lot of what Oshima aims at is very different from Godard - Oshima does not concern himself with the nature of "cinema as cinema" the way Godard does - but I think that, in this case, the comparison is apt.
What both films are criticizing is the way with which youths interact with the issues of the day. Masculin feminin focuses on the three youths and how they manage to balance an anti-American ideology with the capitalism that American ideals represent, something they have fully bought into (as they are "the children of Marx and Coca-cola"). Oshima touches on this balance, but he seems to believe that the tension between the two is a red herring. Instead, the American influence and the anti-American ideology are simply signs of an inauthentic, hypocritical society. Oshima is being extremely critical of the youth of Japan, particularly as they attempt to engage with the problems of the outside world. Maybe they are not engaging with the problems of Japan first? That is the impression I am getting from this film.
Take the relationship between the professor and his students. The professor teaches all the students to listen to the songs of "the people" - I think this is an attempt to teach them about what it is to be Japanese. By reaching back to these songs as a way to authentically express their legitimate sexual desires, the youth can better transition into adulthood, as Japanese citizens. However, his speech falls on deaf ears, as Oshima's numerous tracking shots through the restaurants show his students falling asleep. How could they listen, as he states that they cannot even understand the oppression upon them? This oppression seems to appear as Oshima's reaction against the deification of the emperor (as seen in the many shots playing with the image of the Japanese flag), the failure to stem the influence of the US (as seen in the protester's decontextualized use of hippie American protest songs), and the complete failure for the youth of Japan to actually engage with any of these issues, as illustrated by the four boys and their constant need for violent sexual release.
This violent sexual release is what the professor speaks out against, as the last speech in the bar scene before he dies focuses upon this point. If the youth of Japan are not honest sexually, then they cannot be honest in society, and this will in turn lead to violence, best seen by the numerous rape fantasies each male student harbors, and the re-enactment of the professor's death. These are youth who have let their repressed sexuality take control, to the detriment of Japanese society as a whole.
As an aside, I want to mention that almost all this violent sexuality is entirely on the shoulders of the men; like in his previous film Pleasures of the Flesh, women function as commodities to be used by the men. The role of Mayuko illustrates this perfectly, as her willingness to partake in the rape fantasy at the end of the film defines her as a sex object to be used by men. The fact that the film ends with her rape an ambiguity suggests that maybe there is no hope for Japan.
I would hope not; Japan is still around, fifty years later. I also think the presence of Sachiko, who sings the "women's folk song" suggests that there is the possibility of redemption, as only through the recognition of unrepressed gender and sexual equality can Japanese society reform.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Zelig (Woody Allen, 1983)
So it's about the fickle nature of celebrity, and how the individual involves himself with said celebrity. This seems to be a common theme throughout Allen's work, as many of the characters he plays are embroiled in serious debates (internal and external) over the effects of fame - maybe I need to see Celebrity? All of his characters are attempting to find meaning and a place in a society that works hard to reject them. Zelig's desire to "fit in" to the point that he literally becomes the people he is with is funny, but it also speaks to the desire to fine a place of comfort, possibly to the point that one ceases to have any sort of fame. Interesting how Zelig's desire to disappear into the crowd works against him, as it ultimately forces him into the spotlight.
Zelig's desire to "fit in" also begs the question of what it means to be an American. The film, taking place in the 1920s, evokes a nostalgia, but also a sense of the creation of the "genuine" American - a significant part of the story of modern America was forged in the 1920s, and the film certainly touches on the subjects that originated in this era, from the jazz music soundtrack to the various immigrant groups, many of which had at this time had only just arrived in America. Since Zelig is trying to become lost as an American, I find it interesting that he then does so by exploring the diversity of America. Bridging the divide between a diverse, unique American experience and the "genuine" all-American experience must be what Zelig is after.
Which makes it rather funny, then, that the state Zelig ultimately feels most genuine in is the Woody Allen character present in just about every film in which I've seen him act. I think it is important to note that, while the film presents photographs of Zelig as various ethnic and social groups, the one form we see him the most as is the psychoanalyst, where he attempts to become a psychiatrist. The fakeness of this could be a satire on his previous roles, such as in Annie Hall or Manhattan, where his obsession over his personal state is a fundamental part of the character.
Maybe this character exists to show the timelessness of it? The scenes which I found funniest were those where Zelig, now "cured" of his illness, speaks to the audience on the faux-1920s newsreel, speaking just like Allen speaks in all his films. Although it bordered the line on grating, I did think it interesting that Zelig, when cured of his issues with fitting in, turns into the same character as previous Allen films, especially when many of the problems leading to Zelig's illness are issues other Allen characters deal with.
Zelig's desire to "fit in" also begs the question of what it means to be an American. The film, taking place in the 1920s, evokes a nostalgia, but also a sense of the creation of the "genuine" American - a significant part of the story of modern America was forged in the 1920s, and the film certainly touches on the subjects that originated in this era, from the jazz music soundtrack to the various immigrant groups, many of which had at this time had only just arrived in America. Since Zelig is trying to become lost as an American, I find it interesting that he then does so by exploring the diversity of America. Bridging the divide between a diverse, unique American experience and the "genuine" all-American experience must be what Zelig is after.
Which makes it rather funny, then, that the state Zelig ultimately feels most genuine in is the Woody Allen character present in just about every film in which I've seen him act. I think it is important to note that, while the film presents photographs of Zelig as various ethnic and social groups, the one form we see him the most as is the psychoanalyst, where he attempts to become a psychiatrist. The fakeness of this could be a satire on his previous roles, such as in Annie Hall or Manhattan, where his obsession over his personal state is a fundamental part of the character.
Maybe this character exists to show the timelessness of it? The scenes which I found funniest were those where Zelig, now "cured" of his illness, speaks to the audience on the faux-1920s newsreel, speaking just like Allen speaks in all his films. Although it bordered the line on grating, I did think it interesting that Zelig, when cured of his issues with fitting in, turns into the same character as previous Allen films, especially when many of the problems leading to Zelig's illness are issues other Allen characters deal with.
this blog and the site
I have decided to connect my website to this blog... I haven't actually written much here but let's hope this is a good idea.
In other news, I have a rather serious update in the process of being uploaded. Soon, movies from the past four years will be online in some form, although there won't be much in the way of photos. I don't really take pictures anymore.
In other news, I have a rather serious update in the process of being uploaded. Soon, movies from the past four years will be online in some form, although there won't be much in the way of photos. I don't really take pictures anymore.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Kick Ass (Matthew Vaughn, 2010)
This is a strange movie, one with interesting ideas that never really come together as a cohesive whole. Mostly these ideas relate to the superhero genre in both comics and movies, and how us normal (not special) folk are supposed to interpret this genre. What I find interesting about this film is the dichotomy it displays, since in many ways the film is two different ideas competing for dominance. Since these two ideas don’t really come together as one absolute argument, I think the film suffers in the end.
The two competing ideas need to be defined. The first of these relates directly to the main character’s plight: his normalcy. He is unimportant, beyond unimportant, as he describes himself at the beginning of the film as not even fitting into a high school cliche, such as a nerd or a punk; he is completely forgettable. Probably the only thing going for him is his sense of morals, since he does point out that while superheroes don’t exist, bad guys do, and someone should be stopping them. Thus, he dons a mask, and becomes a “superhero” himself.
The transition into a “superhero” (I use quotation marks because for most of the film he is certainly not “super”) marks the most uncomfortable part of the film, but also the most interesting, because at this point the film is still grounded in a sort of real life-realism as it tries to portray superheroes as possible in this world. Real life-realism is a depiction of reality similar to that of the viewer - the main character’s description of himself as unimportant and the villains he fights (simple thugs mostly) are obvious attempts to ground the film’s reality as part of ours. This stands in direct contrast to the reality depicted in the second half of the film, the superhero-reality, where characters can fly in jetpacks and shoot lots of bullets with blood flying, largely without issue. This is the movie world, where Spiderman and Kill Bill make sense - a very different sort of reality from the first half of Kick Ass. These two competing realities form the basis for Kick Ass’s schizophrenia, with one scene marking the transition from real life-reality to superhero reality.
Anyway, the discomfort of Kick Ass. This occurs when our “superhero” in real life-reality meets up with actual superheroes, Hitgirl and Big Daddy. Consider the problem Kickass faces in the scene with the drug dealer - he is in way over his head (as he admits later) and would probably have died had the real superheroes not shown up. Batman and Spiderman rarely have to deal with this kind of fear, and when they are in serious danger, it is coming from outlandish supervillains, not the corner hustler. Granted, Kickass lacks the actual superpowers of these two, making this scene more dangerous; however, I think the real source of tension comes from what Kickass can lose. When Batman and Spiderman are in danger, it is frequently a threat against society or a personal loss, whereas the threats against Kickass are always existential; for the most part nobody is in immediate danger except himself.
Now, consider Hitgirl and Big Daddy. These two are based on Batman and Robin, except that because we are no longer in a superhero-reality, the physical violence inherent to their line of work is not glazed over, and when people die, we see the consequences. Thus, when Hitgirl kills everyone in the apartment, her actions aren’t cool - we’re still freaked out by the threats against Kickass, and her sudden appearance, and her actions, are disturbing to watch. Kickass compares the mentality of a superhero to that of a sociopath, and I think watching Hitgirl and Big Daddy at work is a prime example of his statement. Superheroes, in the real world, are not much different than serial killers! Don’t forget how calmly the pair kills the man in the car compressor, and how neither really flinches. This instance of death in the film is probably the most uncomfortable in the film, and by having the audience participate fully in the man’s killing, we begin to identify with superheroes/sociopaths.
What is important to note is that all the above really only applies to the first half the movie. This all takes place in real life-reality, where the application of a superhero mentality to our daily existence is clearly one of insanity, either of the idiotic kind (Kickass) or the seriously disturbed kind (Big Daddy/Hitgirl). The second half the film, on the other hand, exists as an example of superhero-reality, not really all that different from Hollywood-reality, where death and explosions are a vehicle for entertainment and drama, rather than a method of hitting serious topics (as seen in the film’s early deaths).
The transition is most obvious when Kickass reveals his real self to the woman who will become his girlfriend (I will be perfectly honest and say that I do not remember any character’s names, and I think this speaks to the everydayness of the characters). When he reveals himself, he does so by sneaking into her bedroom, and she naturally reacts in complete shock and fear (with a bottle of pepper spray, of course!) However, this scene does not conclude with her rejection of him for lying to her throughout the film; rather, she becomes even more attracted to him and proceeds to sleep with him. This scene provoked the most laughter from the audience when I saw it, which I think speaks to how unrealistic this scene is.
However, the scene also acts as the moment of transition into a film no longer about superheroes in the real world, but about the fantasy fulfillment of the ordinary teen male as a superhero. After this scene, the violence becomes more cartoony, Kickass rides a jetpack without much difficulty, and the final boss/arch-villain dies in one of the most goofy ways possible (a death that I must admit was quite awesome). The violence in the second half the film only serves to connect us with the main characters, and anything not committed against them is depicted as not a problem. I think this change in depiction is most apparent when Big Daddy and Kickass are tortured on camera, followed by Higirl’s rescue of them. The torture is played up to be horrifically violent (as it is) while Hitgirl’s attacks are downplayed, with the discomfort present in her earlier scenes no longer an issue. In fact, the only discomfort in these scenes is the discomfort experienced due to Kickass getting his ass kicked; we now feel the pain our hero, our surrogate feels, rather than the disconnect of seeing a superhero operate in the real world. The final showdown in the office tower with Hitgirl taking out all the minions, followed by the bazooka, only reinforces the cartoony, alternate-reality transition between this part of the film and the first.
So, then, what does all this mean? I’m not really sure. I wish the film had further pursued the effects of Kickass trying to be a superhero in the real world, instead of shifting the film into an alternate reality to finish. I think the film’s ending, showing the superheroes returning to reality as ordinary people, seems to suggest the superhero as an identity as unsustainable. I just wonder what would have happened had the killing that occurred at the end of the film been investigated by the police, and what that would have led to. Maybe it would not have been very interesting narratively, but it would have tied into the issue of the “what if superheroes were real?!?” question that the film tries to answer.
The two competing ideas need to be defined. The first of these relates directly to the main character’s plight: his normalcy. He is unimportant, beyond unimportant, as he describes himself at the beginning of the film as not even fitting into a high school cliche, such as a nerd or a punk; he is completely forgettable. Probably the only thing going for him is his sense of morals, since he does point out that while superheroes don’t exist, bad guys do, and someone should be stopping them. Thus, he dons a mask, and becomes a “superhero” himself.
The transition into a “superhero” (I use quotation marks because for most of the film he is certainly not “super”) marks the most uncomfortable part of the film, but also the most interesting, because at this point the film is still grounded in a sort of real life-realism as it tries to portray superheroes as possible in this world. Real life-realism is a depiction of reality similar to that of the viewer - the main character’s description of himself as unimportant and the villains he fights (simple thugs mostly) are obvious attempts to ground the film’s reality as part of ours. This stands in direct contrast to the reality depicted in the second half of the film, the superhero-reality, where characters can fly in jetpacks and shoot lots of bullets with blood flying, largely without issue. This is the movie world, where Spiderman and Kill Bill make sense - a very different sort of reality from the first half of Kick Ass. These two competing realities form the basis for Kick Ass’s schizophrenia, with one scene marking the transition from real life-reality to superhero reality.
Anyway, the discomfort of Kick Ass. This occurs when our “superhero” in real life-reality meets up with actual superheroes, Hitgirl and Big Daddy. Consider the problem Kickass faces in the scene with the drug dealer - he is in way over his head (as he admits later) and would probably have died had the real superheroes not shown up. Batman and Spiderman rarely have to deal with this kind of fear, and when they are in serious danger, it is coming from outlandish supervillains, not the corner hustler. Granted, Kickass lacks the actual superpowers of these two, making this scene more dangerous; however, I think the real source of tension comes from what Kickass can lose. When Batman and Spiderman are in danger, it is frequently a threat against society or a personal loss, whereas the threats against Kickass are always existential; for the most part nobody is in immediate danger except himself.
Now, consider Hitgirl and Big Daddy. These two are based on Batman and Robin, except that because we are no longer in a superhero-reality, the physical violence inherent to their line of work is not glazed over, and when people die, we see the consequences. Thus, when Hitgirl kills everyone in the apartment, her actions aren’t cool - we’re still freaked out by the threats against Kickass, and her sudden appearance, and her actions, are disturbing to watch. Kickass compares the mentality of a superhero to that of a sociopath, and I think watching Hitgirl and Big Daddy at work is a prime example of his statement. Superheroes, in the real world, are not much different than serial killers! Don’t forget how calmly the pair kills the man in the car compressor, and how neither really flinches. This instance of death in the film is probably the most uncomfortable in the film, and by having the audience participate fully in the man’s killing, we begin to identify with superheroes/sociopaths.
What is important to note is that all the above really only applies to the first half the movie. This all takes place in real life-reality, where the application of a superhero mentality to our daily existence is clearly one of insanity, either of the idiotic kind (Kickass) or the seriously disturbed kind (Big Daddy/Hitgirl). The second half the film, on the other hand, exists as an example of superhero-reality, not really all that different from Hollywood-reality, where death and explosions are a vehicle for entertainment and drama, rather than a method of hitting serious topics (as seen in the film’s early deaths).
The transition is most obvious when Kickass reveals his real self to the woman who will become his girlfriend (I will be perfectly honest and say that I do not remember any character’s names, and I think this speaks to the everydayness of the characters). When he reveals himself, he does so by sneaking into her bedroom, and she naturally reacts in complete shock and fear (with a bottle of pepper spray, of course!) However, this scene does not conclude with her rejection of him for lying to her throughout the film; rather, she becomes even more attracted to him and proceeds to sleep with him. This scene provoked the most laughter from the audience when I saw it, which I think speaks to how unrealistic this scene is.
However, the scene also acts as the moment of transition into a film no longer about superheroes in the real world, but about the fantasy fulfillment of the ordinary teen male as a superhero. After this scene, the violence becomes more cartoony, Kickass rides a jetpack without much difficulty, and the final boss/arch-villain dies in one of the most goofy ways possible (a death that I must admit was quite awesome). The violence in the second half the film only serves to connect us with the main characters, and anything not committed against them is depicted as not a problem. I think this change in depiction is most apparent when Big Daddy and Kickass are tortured on camera, followed by Higirl’s rescue of them. The torture is played up to be horrifically violent (as it is) while Hitgirl’s attacks are downplayed, with the discomfort present in her earlier scenes no longer an issue. In fact, the only discomfort in these scenes is the discomfort experienced due to Kickass getting his ass kicked; we now feel the pain our hero, our surrogate feels, rather than the disconnect of seeing a superhero operate in the real world. The final showdown in the office tower with Hitgirl taking out all the minions, followed by the bazooka, only reinforces the cartoony, alternate-reality transition between this part of the film and the first.
So, then, what does all this mean? I’m not really sure. I wish the film had further pursued the effects of Kickass trying to be a superhero in the real world, instead of shifting the film into an alternate reality to finish. I think the film’s ending, showing the superheroes returning to reality as ordinary people, seems to suggest the superhero as an identity as unsustainable. I just wonder what would have happened had the killing that occurred at the end of the film been investigated by the police, and what that would have led to. Maybe it would not have been very interesting narratively, but it would have tied into the issue of the “what if superheroes were real?!?” question that the film tries to answer.
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