Cry Me a River - Emotion and The Prestige

Are you watching closely?

I must begin this week by professing my undying love for Christopher Nolan.

For the uninitiated, Christopher Nolan is a film director/writer/producer who is having an enormous impact on the way films are being made and sold. Though this may sound simple, the statement is in fact riddled with complexity and contradiction. In the interest of getting to the point, Nolan is merging compelling dramatic narratives and breathtaking action set pieces with fiercely intelligent and progressive ideas.

This week I was sat at my desk, deeply engrossed in social network revenue models, when I heard the following phrase, 'Well that's the problem with Nolan isn't it?' I immediately stopped what I was doing to ask my boss for a bit of repetition and a lot of explanation. 'Well, his films are incredible but they aren't emotional'. After a good few minutes I managed to choke back my shock, and the bile that was forming at the back of my throat, in order to shriek 'WHAT!?' This was followed by descriptions of some emotionally devasting moments from Nolan's films, lots of dramatic pauses and a few too many unintentionally threatening facial expressions. After listening to everything that I had to say, my boss then flattened me with seven little words, 'but has he ever made you cry?'

I was speechless. Of course he had! Many times. He must have done. I'm always so touched. I always finish the films feeling deeply affected. But I simply could not recall. This stumped me for a moment, but I soon dismissed the ridiculous notion and returned to my work. However, I have been thinking about this question ever since. I'm sure I'm right. I MUST be right, but I can't recall shedding a single tear. I must be suffering some kind of mental block due to my severe appreciation of his work, but still no recollection...

You may be thinking that this really isn't an issue at all. That the spectrum of human emotions does not begin and end with sadness and tears. However, Nolan's films do not shy away from sadness. There are many sad events which occur in his films and each one is heavily injected with extremely melancholic tones. It is also worth noting that I have cried at many, many films. I might even describe myself as something of a crybaby when it comes to film. For instance, whilst reviewing films at University I had the unfortunate luck of having to watch Bride Wars (Gary Winick, 2009).

For those who haven't seen it, Bride Wars is one of the most godawful 'chick flicks' I've ever had to sit through. It wasn't funny, it wasn't clever, I didn't like any of the characters and the premise still makes me want to punch myself in the face. However, bringing up this hideous representation of women must now all become clear as I shamefully admit to crying at one point in the film. That's right. Bring on the ridicule.

Having now established that it's incredibly easy to make me cry, my supposed lack of emotional expression when viewing Nolan's work seems all the more absurd. So it was with extreme intrigue and an overwhelming impulse to prove my boss wrong, that I chose to review The Prestige (Christopher Nolan, 2006).

Set at the end of the 19th century, The Prestige follows the careers of two stage magicians (Alfred Borden played by Christian Bale, Robert Angier played by Hugh Jackman) and the obsessive rivalry which escaltes between them. To provide any more of a synopsis would be to do a disservice to the mystery which continues to surround the story even after the film has ended. With that in mind I should make it clear that the following text is written in view of my previous question relating to Nolan's work and as such does not really constitute an actual review. However, if you have yet to see the film, I would strongly recommend that you do so immediately and avoid anything that might steal away even a small fragment of the mystery surrounding the film.

I'd like to start by stating that, having just revisited this marvel of a film, I did not even come close to shedding a tear. So now I'm back to wondering why the traditionally sad events do not move me to tears or even create the usual deep sense of melancholy which you might expect. Having examined those scenes which I consider to possess the most potential to provoke sadness, it is apparent that deep emotional engagement is restricted by what happens before, during and after these sequences.

For example, Sarah Borden (Rebecca Hall) frequently appears depressed and unhappy in her marriage, eventually hanging herself in her husband's workshop. Her death has the potential to be incredibly sad, but any potential provocation of emotional expression in the audience is quelled by the portrayal of the event. For instance, in the setup of the sequence, Sarah slowly makes her way through the workshop. The score is initially simple, delicate and light, as gentle high notes are played softly. The first few shots are reasonably long, with minimal cutting between points of interest. These elements create a sense of eerie tranquility. As Sarah inspects the workshop, it is clear that her acceptance and understanding of her circumstances have translated into a sense of calm. These feelings are transferred to the audience via the cold and muted colour palette, lingering shots and delicate score. The opening tone of the sequence establishes this sense of calm acceptance, which does not help to convey the horrific ramifications of Sarah's death.

The sequence itself only lasts for forty-five seconds and consists of Sarah slowly walking around Alfred's workshop. She touches a few items until finally resting her hand on a piece of rope. The audience then hears a loud fluttering noise whilst the camera rapidly cuts to an extreme closeup of some birdcages, before cutting straight to a long shot of Sarah's lifeless hanging body. The framing and distancing of the long shot works to remove the audience from the scene both physically and emotionally, as they cannot see her face as she dies. This forces the audience into the position of casual observer. Rather than focus on the character, Nolan has made Sarah a mere body in the distance.

Finally, After this sequence, Nolan cuts straight to Angier's side of the tale and doesn't revisit Borden for another three minutes. This focuses the audience on Angier and his circumstances, distracting them from the consequences of Sarah's suicide. In fact, the effects of this sequence on Sarah's family are never really shown. The next time Borden appears it is to talk coldly of Sarah and to confess that he never really loved her. Borden's cold and unfeeling attitude leaves the audience with no one to empathise with in order to tap into the sadness of Sarah's death. Though her daughter is now without a mother, the viewers are never really afforded the opportunity to consider this loss. The handling of this sequence indicates a deliberate choice on the part of the filmmaker to remove the audience from any opportunity they might have to feel any sadness. Which further begs the question - why?

One possible reason could be that Nolan is reflecting upon the nature of obsession, which dominates thought and feeling leaving little room for anything else. However, a stronger possible explanation is that the audience are never allowed to fully understand the events of the film. The mystery which surrounds each of the characters clouds them from the average levels of filmic identification and empathy. The narrative mystery works to partially shield the characters from the usual levels of identification and is aided by strategic camera work, an often covert score and non linear plotting. That is not to say that we cannot fear for or engage with the characters, but that it is much more difficult to empathise with a character when the reasons for their outlook and actions are so carefully concealed.

It is not surprising here that my conclusion looks favourably on Nolan. I can only end by saying that there does seem to be a lack of emotional outpouring with most of his work, but when films are this good... who cares? It is impossible to be all things to all people and absurd to object to something lacking when that something does absolutely nothing to detract from the considerable enjoyment of the film.

My Rating: 9.5 Sonias out of 10
A twisting, turning snake of a film, The Prestige conceals the truth long after its final bite.

Art Imitating Life Rating: 6 out of 10
Though the themes of the film are universal the surface activities and actions are far removed from the everyday. So despite the central human core beneath its layers of intrigue, The Prestige is only awarded a 6 out of 10 on the real life ratings scale.

Panic on the Streets of London - Rage and 28 Days Later

Well, not all the Streets...


After the first week of my new venture I managed to fail spectacularly by forgetting the all important second week. In my defence, a hell of a lot has been happening recently! So I'm casting my mind back to the events of two weeks ago and remembering the chaos of the London riots... or at least my own experience of them.

Fortunately, though unfortunately for the excitement factor of this blog, I live in Harrow and currently work in Kensington. Not surprisingly, Kensington was completely untouched which meant that the rich could continue to purchase their overpriced goods in peace. Back in Harrow my local Currys was smashed up, but the only other visible sign that anything was going on were the seven million police vans which zoomed past me on their way into London.

People were tending to stay in their houses after dark, causing usually busy parts of London to become barren wastelands which often exhibited traces of destruction from the night before. Having seen footage on the telly and heard a few horrible things from friends, I couldn't help but think of 28 Days Later (Danny Boyle, 2002).

A deadly virus has cut through Britain, leaving the majority of people dead or infected. Once infected, humans become devoid of personality and full of rage. Too animalistic to have any kind of logical goal, they instinctually attack the uninfected and spew blood from their mouths as if their lives depended on it.

London is a vast stretch of emptiness which is deserted by day and teaming with infected by night. It is here that we are introduced to our key protagonist, an ex-bicycle courier named Jim (Cillian Murphy) who wakes up in a deserted hospital 28 days after the infection surfaced. We soon learn that he has been unconcious for this time and therefore has no idea of the current state of the city.

After a 5 minute opening sequence which shows how the infection began, we wake up 28 days later with Jim. However, it's 9 more minutes before we meet an infected and 10 minutes before we are confronted with any immediate danger. During this time we are alone with Jim, who explores the city desperately trying to understand what can have happened. These scenes are delicately shot and paced, with little camera movement and reasonably long cuts. After a period of silence, a single guitar plays a few quiet notes and eventually builds in volume, pitch and speed to reflect Jim's growing confusion and ultimate realisation that something truly horrific must have occurred. This introduction allows time for the effects of the infection to resonate with the audience and is indicative of the filmmaker's approach throughout the film.

When Jim arrives back at the family home he makes a harrowing discovery which is extremely delicately handled and performed. This is followed by a fast paced and unexpected attack which is made all the more effective when juxtaposed with the previous scene. The point here is that the action sequences are well shot and deliver plenty of scares, but what elevates 28 Days Later beyond the realm of solid horror is the empathy we feel with the characters. This is undoubtedly due not only to the amount of time which is dedicated to the characters, but also to how well this time is spent.

When thinking about 28 Days Later in reference to the London riots it is worth mentioning that the film begins in a laboratory where various unrelated and decontextualised scenes of violence are being shown to a monkey. The media coverage of the rioting was of a similar ilk, as it presented viewers with little social context other than the desire of mindless thugs to obtain the latest trainers without having to pay for them.

In this first sequence, protestors have broken into the lab to liberate the animals and stumble upon a scientist. After being pressed for a reason as to why the animals are being treated in this way, the scientist stresses that 'in order to cure, you must first understand'. This vague statement is the most information the audience is ever given as to why the animals were being experimented on, but hints at so much more.

There are many more points of ambiguity throughout the film which are all executed in a way that satisfies the audience without forcing any singular interpretation down their throats. Later in the film, Jim appears to be close to giving up hope. Then he sees a plane in the sky which propels him back into action. The audience is offered no concrete explanation for the presence of the plane and are free to create their own meaning, although a few possible options were loosely discussed earlier in the film. The level of ambiguity present in 28 Days Later heightens audience enjoyment by allowing for endless interpretations and discussions, deepening the meaning which can be extracted from it.

28 Days Later is more than just an extremely well-executed horror film. A disarming exploration into a fascinating 'what if' scenario, the film is as touching as it is terrifying.

My Rating: 8.5 Sonias out of 10

Art Imitating Life Rating: 8.5 out of 10

I've Got You Under My Large Metal Diner Roof - 50s Nostalgia and Ghost World

A Trip Back in Time... Almost.


After a packed weekend of friendly gatherings, films, dinners and great chats, I must admit that I was a little stumped as to what I was going to fill my very first post with. This real life to screen malarky is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't considered some form of criminal activity to spice things up a bit.

But have no fear. For this evening I revisited one of my old favourite eating establishments and all was made clear. Starvin' Marvins is a 50s diner just off the M40 en route to London. Now this first image doesn't quite capture the whole place, but did involve me getting as far away from it as I could without being hit by a car. So you know... bonus picture taking points for me!

The second image was taken by one of my friends from the inside of my car. As I didn't actually take the photo, I must lose points here... but I did have to slow to almost a halt on the off-road of a busy motorway, so you'll cut me a little slack please.

Having said that, the photo also includes a random man who was not one of my merry party. Let me assure you that he is not a permanent fixture and that if you make the trip out to Starvin' Marvins looking for him, you will be sorely disappointed.

I visited this place quite a bit a few years ago, but hadn't been for a while. I enjoyed the novelty of the trip, as I'm sure a great many of the British do. We don't get a lot of diners off our motorways over here... we pretty much get shitty cafes and fast food. However, I soon found that the features I was once enchanted by had lost some of their spark. The signs on the walls appeared tired and faded, the laminated chequerboard menus seemed tacky and the chirpiness of the staff was decidedly un-50s. I hoped that the owners has just let the place go downhill, but I suspected otherwise.

This reminded me of a scene from Ghost World (Terry Zwigoff, 2001)

Ghost World follows recent high school graduate Enid (Thora Birch) and her struggle to adapt to the burgeoning pressures of adulthood. Enid seems to despise the norm and the film presents the audience with little evidence to suggest that her attitude isn't completely justified. The vast majority of the supporting characters are presented as simple, deluded, pretentious or downright stupid. Whilst Enid's ability to cut through great swathes of bullshit in a darkly comedic fashion should cause the average viewer to embrace her instantly. However, it isn't long before the often cruel manner of her address, coupled with a fickle nature which continually prompts mood swings and fleeting phases gives cause for concern. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get back to the real life connection...

A crucial element which seems to drive Enid from one phase to another is her quest for meaning, emotional connection and authenticity in a seemingly cold and superficial world. This theme is present throughout, but the scene which prompted my choice of film this week takes place in a 50s diner.

Enid and her friend Becky (Scarlett Johansson) visit 'Wowsville' which purports to be an authentic 50s diner. Once inside, they make fun of the 90s music which plays in the background and comment on the incongruity of their waiter's long curly hair. The restaurant isn't special and certainly doesn't evoke a 50s vibe. As with most of Enid's experiences throughout the film, there is no meaning beneath the cold surface of things. Unfortunately, this describes my experience at Starvin' Marvins. It felt completely commercial and without spirit. Although I had been impressed countless times before, something just didn't feel right and I instantly thought of Enid and her search for authenticity and meaning. 

Interestingly for my first review, one of the key contributors to my enjoyment of the film is my identification with Enid's feelings and experiences. Enid's resistance to change, unwillingness to accept new responsibilities and quest for self-discovery are broad elements which are easy to identify with. However, the specificity of many of her encounters also rings true. For instance, due to less than perfect grades Enid is forced to take an art class over the summer. The pretentiousness of her teacher (Roberta, played by Illeana Douglas) and the class is beyond belief... unless you have ever taken an art class. Having studied film for about six years, I can confirm that there are many Robertas in this world and I have been frustrated and irritated by most of them. This fictional Roberta presents her class with a short film to provide them with an insight into her 'specific skin'. She also dismisses Enid's drawing book as 'cartoons' and gravitates towards a messy sculpture made entirely of jumbled coat hangers which is supposedly an artist's response to 'a woman's right to choose'. As with many of the scenes from Ghost World, these art class sequences entertain and amuse by taking the mundane and exaggerating for comic effect.

 

There are many more things to be said for Ghost World, but I can only recommend that you find them out for yourselves. Though perhaps not for everyone (the well adjusted need not apply), Ghost World reflects the often disconnectedness of youth and is as relevant today as it was ten years ago.

My Rating: 7.5 Sonias out of 10

Art Imitating Life Rating: 8.5 out of 10