A few months back I was in Washington D.C. on a little vacation. I visited some of the museums and one in particular was the National Museum of American History. There were some exhibits of some more recent American culture. Moments that I wouldn't necessarily think of being museum worthy but none the less on display. Items from 1980's and 90's childhood. Items that at times I kept thinking to myself, "I had that or I remember that." Those toys, wrappers and electronic devices are now at the bottom of a garbage dump. Their value expended and use no longer of any value, at least to me. But now worthy of being in a museum. How did the objects that seemed so incidental become pieces of history? How did they garner a value that I somehow missed, or at least never saw the potential value in?
When the Netflix series Stranger Things (2016) was released the binge viewers clamored to the retro styled pastiche of genre storytelling and found a gem. A story that is set in the early 1980's in middle America. The story includes such narrative devices as: monsters, dissaperances, paranoia, teen troubles, secret government agents, some horror, some science fiction and cliffhangers. I'm not interested in getting into the finer points of the story, or play the role of spoiler. What interests me about the series is why the interest? There's nothing wholly groundbreaking in the storytelling or plot devices that haven't been used before. There is something about the story that unfolds that might be the reason why there is a buzz that surrounds the series. The Things of Stranger Things.
One Thing being the setting. I wondered why the series was set in the 1980's. The story could easily be told in our modern times without much difficulty, or even in more recent times. The 80's carry their own distinct styles and models of understanding. I do not doubt that the creators of the series, the Duffer Brothers were injecting their own influences of the past into the story. The production designer Chris Trujillo, along with the art direction of William G. Davis, and set decoration of Jess Royal are spot on with creating the 1980's world of the characters. Each frame offers the time capsule of the era and enhances the story beyond a story that is set in the 80's but rather is the 80's. The authenticity and simulation of the era rings true. For those who were a part of those days we discover the artifacts of those times as we watch the characters interact with them like we once did. The connection of nostalgia is a bridge to the past. For those outside of those times, who only know of them from media and history books, the series is a period piece. (The 80's as a period piece? Sure! Why not!) The opportunity to get lost in the story of the fantastiqué, as is what horror and science fiction's goals are, makes for more recent generations to find an authentic storytelling experience. Stranger Things connects generational experiences with genre and storytelling.
But there are more Things of the past to discover. A game of Dungeons and Dragons, A Trapper Keeper, movie posters and songs. Those Things work their way into a Heidegger-esque meaning of value. These items are just parts to a greater whole of the artistic statement that the storytellers are showing us. Couple this with a bit of post-modern recontextualizing and these things become more than just props and storytelling devices. Without trying to play spoiler, consider the film posters and references seen in the series. Three posters that are displayed in the background of rooms are; one for Jaws, Evil Dead and John Carpenter's The Thing. All three connect to the characters interest in horror and are of the time period in which the story takes place. But they are also symbols of the greater terror at hand that the characters will face in their own horror/monster. The films are an influence of the story tellers world but also clues as into what to expect from the characters and the horror that will come upon them. The objects of promotion of a by gone time are now valuable pieces of storytelling that connect us to the world of the characters. One could even go as far as to say that the film that plays at the towns movie theater, All The Right Moves, is relatable to the teenagers and their relationships in the series.
Of course there is more to understanding any phenomena of television series popularity. I don't think there is a clear cut answer as why viewers finding Stranger Things to work and other series bombing. Could all be a matter of timing. Just as my museum trip challenged my understanding of the past, and what is valuable. I can't help to think that we are now willing to take a step back and accept the storytelling devices of the past as not old fashioned or boring. Rather something that is as unique and valuable as any fast pace techno thrill a minute series of today. So we binge and wait for the next chapters of Stranger Things to appear from another side of the past.
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens
Rarely do I ever feel the need to post thoughts on a new theatrically released film. Partly due to the fact that I don't get out to theaters as often as I would like and when I do, I like to take my time in thinking about what I have just seen. Usually the thoughts I come up with don't provide me with enough desire to write about those thoughts. It's not the movies fault, it's more or less me.
Since the news of the Star Wars franchise being sold to Disney and the production of Episode 7 being teased to expectant audiences, the hype surrounding the film has added to the pressure of needing to see this film. In the films short theatrical release there has been enough reactions to the film that I figure I might as well throw my hat into the ring. The wait for this film has been long in coming for myself and those of my generation. Since 1983 and the release of Episode 6, The Return of the Jedi, the curiosity as to what happened to Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca (for myself what about the Ewoks?) created numerous debates amongst friends. Anyone who had the action figures could create their own sequels and forever wonder what was to come. Did Luke go over to the Darkside? Did Leia and Han marry? Did Boba Fett escape the Sarlacc Pit and go on to seek revenge? We could speculate but never know. We all got older and were introduced to the galaxy before Episode 4 with the prequels installment. But now, in 2015, the answers were found, and for myself, were found wanting.
I don't write with the mind of criticism to express whether the movie is good or bad. The film was made in the hands of a highly proficient filmmaker in J.J. Abrams, with more resources available to him and his crew than we may ever realize. I'll reserve my thoughts on the production aspects till later but I do think there is a connection to the changes that time brings to production and to perception.
The expectation as to what happened to the iconic characters of Luke, Leia, Han, Chewbacca, C-3PO, and R2-D2 all seem to be put on the shelf by the filmmakers. What seems to be better shown is rather said through dialogue by the filmmakers. It is as if the void between 1983 and 2015 could never be filled and therefore glossed over. (Without giving away too much detail, or spoilers) The question of Luke Skywalker is answered within the first line of the introduction title roll. Our other heroes are introduced scattered shot, with back stories only hinted at but never fully realized. Meanwhile we are following the exploits of Rey and Finn, misfits brought together from their own separate orders, discovering the Force and exploits of the Jedi past. They seem to embody possibly what it would be like for a new viewer of the Star Wars franchise trying to piece together the world of these classical characters. The filmmaker drops hints to the past the film installments, even the prequels, giving winks and nods to those "in the know" while at the same time trying to freshen the galaxy that is so far, far away. Rey and Finn are the millennials of this generation fighting the dark side, young, never realizing the need for guidance, discovering on their own their failures and accepting the pressure that they can achieve anything they put their mind to.
Rey and Finn are the new torchbearers. Literally in the sense that they try to carry and use Luke's light saber, to both success and failure. But this passing of the torch seems rushed and messy. Too much seems to happen by accident and circumstance. The intricate design of episodes 4, 5, and 6 seems abandoned not only in the story but also through the filmmaking. I hate to sound like I am being an old curmudgeon but the style of the filmmaking doesn't quite fit. Style will always be an argument point with no clear answer. Abrams' style is influenced in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy films of the 70's and 80's with the added wizardry of CGI. What he is able to create is cinematic eye candy and the wonder that makes filmgoing so addictive. But does it fit in the design of the Star Wars Universe?
There are plenty of aspects of the filmmaking that I could look at and break down from The Force Awakens and how they relate to my overall feeling of the film. But for this short response I can only think about the differences in how the close-ups are used in The Force Awakens and how George Lucas uses the close-up in his Star Wars films. They seem to have different points of emphasis and are complemented by camera movement, or lack thereof. Lucas seems to prefer stillness in his frame, even in the most action intense sequences the camera is still, keeping the subject defined within the frame. Abrams' camera seems to be about the experience, to get you into feeling the vibrations and intensity of the actions taking place. The camera may shake, or glide in and around, making hard cuts rather than the smooth motions of Lucas's films. These differences leave me at odds and in an unfamiliar environment to what I know these characters to be in. We are even shown a flashback/vision sequence in The Force Awakens. Something that I don't recall in any of the other films but also further covering over what happened between episode 6 and 7. There is a rush to The Force Awakens that wants me to yell to the characters, "Stop And Catch Your Breath!" Is it possible that Lucas so defined how the galaxy of Star Wars was to be filmed that he in turn kept any filmmaker from ever getting truly back there?
Maybe that question goes back to style and I will forever be on one side of the ambiguous answer. For now I, as well as others, are left to guess what comes next. Will the unknown become known and the 30 year void be fulfilled? One thing that I do fear is that those characters that I followed and loved on their adventures against the dark side or now gone, their stories incomplete. But there is time and certainly the money. The Force Awakens will most likely eclipse the $1 billion mark in box office receipts. The producers and filmmakers can put the necessary effort into making episode 8 into the next great Star Wars film. And to that, we wait.
Since the news of the Star Wars franchise being sold to Disney and the production of Episode 7 being teased to expectant audiences, the hype surrounding the film has added to the pressure of needing to see this film. In the films short theatrical release there has been enough reactions to the film that I figure I might as well throw my hat into the ring. The wait for this film has been long in coming for myself and those of my generation. Since 1983 and the release of Episode 6, The Return of the Jedi, the curiosity as to what happened to Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca (for myself what about the Ewoks?) created numerous debates amongst friends. Anyone who had the action figures could create their own sequels and forever wonder what was to come. Did Luke go over to the Darkside? Did Leia and Han marry? Did Boba Fett escape the Sarlacc Pit and go on to seek revenge? We could speculate but never know. We all got older and were introduced to the galaxy before Episode 4 with the prequels installment. But now, in 2015, the answers were found, and for myself, were found wanting.
I don't write with the mind of criticism to express whether the movie is good or bad. The film was made in the hands of a highly proficient filmmaker in J.J. Abrams, with more resources available to him and his crew than we may ever realize. I'll reserve my thoughts on the production aspects till later but I do think there is a connection to the changes that time brings to production and to perception.
The expectation as to what happened to the iconic characters of Luke, Leia, Han, Chewbacca, C-3PO, and R2-D2 all seem to be put on the shelf by the filmmakers. What seems to be better shown is rather said through dialogue by the filmmakers. It is as if the void between 1983 and 2015 could never be filled and therefore glossed over. (Without giving away too much detail, or spoilers) The question of Luke Skywalker is answered within the first line of the introduction title roll. Our other heroes are introduced scattered shot, with back stories only hinted at but never fully realized. Meanwhile we are following the exploits of Rey and Finn, misfits brought together from their own separate orders, discovering the Force and exploits of the Jedi past. They seem to embody possibly what it would be like for a new viewer of the Star Wars franchise trying to piece together the world of these classical characters. The filmmaker drops hints to the past the film installments, even the prequels, giving winks and nods to those "in the know" while at the same time trying to freshen the galaxy that is so far, far away. Rey and Finn are the millennials of this generation fighting the dark side, young, never realizing the need for guidance, discovering on their own their failures and accepting the pressure that they can achieve anything they put their mind to.
Rey and Finn are the new torchbearers. Literally in the sense that they try to carry and use Luke's light saber, to both success and failure. But this passing of the torch seems rushed and messy. Too much seems to happen by accident and circumstance. The intricate design of episodes 4, 5, and 6 seems abandoned not only in the story but also through the filmmaking. I hate to sound like I am being an old curmudgeon but the style of the filmmaking doesn't quite fit. Style will always be an argument point with no clear answer. Abrams' style is influenced in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy films of the 70's and 80's with the added wizardry of CGI. What he is able to create is cinematic eye candy and the wonder that makes filmgoing so addictive. But does it fit in the design of the Star Wars Universe?
There are plenty of aspects of the filmmaking that I could look at and break down from The Force Awakens and how they relate to my overall feeling of the film. But for this short response I can only think about the differences in how the close-ups are used in The Force Awakens and how George Lucas uses the close-up in his Star Wars films. They seem to have different points of emphasis and are complemented by camera movement, or lack thereof. Lucas seems to prefer stillness in his frame, even in the most action intense sequences the camera is still, keeping the subject defined within the frame. Abrams' camera seems to be about the experience, to get you into feeling the vibrations and intensity of the actions taking place. The camera may shake, or glide in and around, making hard cuts rather than the smooth motions of Lucas's films. These differences leave me at odds and in an unfamiliar environment to what I know these characters to be in. We are even shown a flashback/vision sequence in The Force Awakens. Something that I don't recall in any of the other films but also further covering over what happened between episode 6 and 7. There is a rush to The Force Awakens that wants me to yell to the characters, "Stop And Catch Your Breath!" Is it possible that Lucas so defined how the galaxy of Star Wars was to be filmed that he in turn kept any filmmaker from ever getting truly back there?
Maybe that question goes back to style and I will forever be on one side of the ambiguous answer. For now I, as well as others, are left to guess what comes next. Will the unknown become known and the 30 year void be fulfilled? One thing that I do fear is that those characters that I followed and loved on their adventures against the dark side or now gone, their stories incomplete. But there is time and certainly the money. The Force Awakens will most likely eclipse the $1 billion mark in box office receipts. The producers and filmmakers can put the necessary effort into making episode 8 into the next great Star Wars film. And to that, we wait.
Monday, July 20, 2015
The Low Project: Speed Of Life
There aren't enough words to describe the extreme importance and influence of David Bowie on my life. The countless words that have been written about his life, music, acting, and art are better left to those authors and not for me to add upon. (At least not at this time.)
What I will write upon, be it ever so briefly, is the experimental filmmaking project that centers around David Bowie's Low album. Low was released at a time in Bowie's career where he was leaving behind the excesses of America, not only sonically but narcotically. Venturing back to Europe with the influence of electronic music in mind, Bowie would collaborate with Brian Eno in making three albums that would challenge and alienate fans, record execs and radio DJ's. The album composed of instrumental soundscapes, and at times schizophrenic instrumentation accompanying cryptic lyrics, was not only ground breaking then, but even today seems as livelier than ever.
The first track of the album is an instrumental titled; Speed Of Life. A roughly 3 minute song that seems to be introducing the new direction in which Bowie would be taking for the rest of the album. The music is a blend of the conventional rock instrumentation and synthesized sounds.
The challenge of representing visually this piece of music is the matter of approach that one can take. The use of 16mm black film leader and scratching the emulsion off of the film is not only time consuming but creating an intentional image for each frame that is scratched. Each line or circle is representative of the sonic motif within the music. The intention of the imagery, in combination of with the music, is to create a synesthetic experience while also showing the impermanence of the images. The frames flicker and flash at varying rates to represent the passing of time, to show the speed of life. The song fades in and fades out with no clear beginning or end but the images arrive then cease. One final freeze frame, a kind of marker of time that has passed.
The use of 16mm film, and the analog process of non-camera filmmaking, is coupled with the digital process of filmmaking. The film footage is transferred using a projector and HD camera. The transfer creates its own flicker effect and digital scan lines. The mixture of mediums is in the spirit of the Low album and the creative process Eno and Bowie approached to making music. The construction of the images to the music was done using Final Cut Pro. The final seconds of Speed of Life combine imagery as a type of climax to a song that does not have a climax. The mixture of lines and shapes are a confluence of the experience that is in the brief passage of time.
Speed Of Life
What I will write upon, be it ever so briefly, is the experimental filmmaking project that centers around David Bowie's Low album. Low was released at a time in Bowie's career where he was leaving behind the excesses of America, not only sonically but narcotically. Venturing back to Europe with the influence of electronic music in mind, Bowie would collaborate with Brian Eno in making three albums that would challenge and alienate fans, record execs and radio DJ's. The album composed of instrumental soundscapes, and at times schizophrenic instrumentation accompanying cryptic lyrics, was not only ground breaking then, but even today seems as livelier than ever.
The first track of the album is an instrumental titled; Speed Of Life. A roughly 3 minute song that seems to be introducing the new direction in which Bowie would be taking for the rest of the album. The music is a blend of the conventional rock instrumentation and synthesized sounds.
The challenge of representing visually this piece of music is the matter of approach that one can take. The use of 16mm black film leader and scratching the emulsion off of the film is not only time consuming but creating an intentional image for each frame that is scratched. Each line or circle is representative of the sonic motif within the music. The intention of the imagery, in combination of with the music, is to create a synesthetic experience while also showing the impermanence of the images. The frames flicker and flash at varying rates to represent the passing of time, to show the speed of life. The song fades in and fades out with no clear beginning or end but the images arrive then cease. One final freeze frame, a kind of marker of time that has passed.
The use of 16mm film, and the analog process of non-camera filmmaking, is coupled with the digital process of filmmaking. The film footage is transferred using a projector and HD camera. The transfer creates its own flicker effect and digital scan lines. The mixture of mediums is in the spirit of the Low album and the creative process Eno and Bowie approached to making music. The construction of the images to the music was done using Final Cut Pro. The final seconds of Speed of Life combine imagery as a type of climax to a song that does not have a climax. The mixture of lines and shapes are a confluence of the experience that is in the brief passage of time.
Speed Of Life
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Jiro Dreams of Sushi
To be in the time when a master is in full control of their craft is very rare. Often it is after their departure when we realize what has left us. Jiro Ono may not be a name that stands out to the majority of the world but Jiro is the subject of the documentary film Jiro Dreams of Sushi (David Gelb, 2011). Jiro is an 85 year old master sushi chef in Tokyo who runs his small, tightly ordered restaurant to perfection. His craftsmanship of sushi transcends the way in which we not only look at food but how we approach our respective passions. Jiro's wisdom and his desire for improvement are aptly portrayed by David Gelb. One will find in this film that even in the smallest of foods comes a greater meaning in how we understand life.
In a day where celebrity chef's seem to be all the rage, Jiro Ono seems to be the complete opposite of a celebrity. The 85 year old sushi chef does not sell himself or become some grandiose commodity, but rather lets his pursuit of perfection and love for food bring him accolades. His restaurant, Sukiyabasha Jiro has repeatedly been rated 3 stars by Michelin and food aficionados rate Jiro's restaurant as the best sushi resteraunt on the planet. Reservations are made a month in advance and some meals start at thirty-thousand yen (three-hundred dollars US). Even with such high awards and demands Jiro does not lose focus on the pursuit of making the best sushi.
Throughout the film Gelb films the procedures of Jiro's restaurant and the discipline it takes to be the best sushi chef. We are taken to the fish markets where experts in their respective seafood describe what they feel is the best quality product. Gelb consistently uses close-ups with shallow focus to show us the details of various Tuna and other seafood. These close-ups, when combined with Jiro's thoughts on sushi, allow us to see a small bite of food as a work of art. The precise placement and cut of each form of sushi moves the food from being more than just a simple food. It is possible that each bite of sushi may very well be the best bite ever. Jiro though, continues his pursuit of making his sushi even better.
Gelb does give us Jiro's biography and one can see that Jiro's life and ethos is put into his sushi. Jiro's self-reliance and eventual fatherhood lead him to not only pursuing his passion but also supporting his family. His two sons are apprentices in his restaurant and his son Yoshikazu is the eventual heir to the masters throne. We hear Jiro talk about the day that he will not be alive but his actions and love for sushi seem to keep him from departing. As long as there is sushi there will be Jiro but even Jiro see's errors in this way of thinking.
In one brief moment of the film Jiro talks about the depleting quality of tuna and fish on the market. This due in part to a proliferation of sushi being sold and the excessive fishing practices of corporations. Time not only seems to be short for Jiro but also for his pursuit of the best sushi. If the quality is not there in the fish then it won't be there on the plate.
One thing is certain is that Jiro's sons will continue the pursuit of making better sushi. It is revealed in the film that Yoshikazu was the preparer of sushi when the restaurant was given its highest awards. Clearly Jiro is not the last sushi master but rather a cornerstone in developing better and better sushi. Jiro's passion for sushi is expressed eloquently in words that could easily fit into any ancient book of wisdom. Through many hardships and circumstances that would harden the best of us, Jiro seems to transpose difficulties into fuel for his pursuit and passion of sushi. Some would see an owner of a restaurant as a job, but Jiro sees his work as his life. His love for what he does transcends financial gain and fame. Jiro's spirit is gentle but his discipline is strong. One could say that Jiro's work ethic is from another time and he is part of a dying breed. But just as Jiro passes on his sushi technique, so does he pass on his point of view on life.
Gelb explores a man whose dreams are both fulfilled and unfulfilled. But unfulfillment leads to betterment. Ono says, "I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is." Whatever our dreams may be or wherever our passions lay, let us continue to strive for the top, wherever that may be. And maybe along the way we can enjoy some sushi.
In a day where celebrity chef's seem to be all the rage, Jiro Ono seems to be the complete opposite of a celebrity. The 85 year old sushi chef does not sell himself or become some grandiose commodity, but rather lets his pursuit of perfection and love for food bring him accolades. His restaurant, Sukiyabasha Jiro has repeatedly been rated 3 stars by Michelin and food aficionados rate Jiro's restaurant as the best sushi resteraunt on the planet. Reservations are made a month in advance and some meals start at thirty-thousand yen (three-hundred dollars US). Even with such high awards and demands Jiro does not lose focus on the pursuit of making the best sushi.
Throughout the film Gelb films the procedures of Jiro's restaurant and the discipline it takes to be the best sushi chef. We are taken to the fish markets where experts in their respective seafood describe what they feel is the best quality product. Gelb consistently uses close-ups with shallow focus to show us the details of various Tuna and other seafood. These close-ups, when combined with Jiro's thoughts on sushi, allow us to see a small bite of food as a work of art. The precise placement and cut of each form of sushi moves the food from being more than just a simple food. It is possible that each bite of sushi may very well be the best bite ever. Jiro though, continues his pursuit of making his sushi even better.
Gelb does give us Jiro's biography and one can see that Jiro's life and ethos is put into his sushi. Jiro's self-reliance and eventual fatherhood lead him to not only pursuing his passion but also supporting his family. His two sons are apprentices in his restaurant and his son Yoshikazu is the eventual heir to the masters throne. We hear Jiro talk about the day that he will not be alive but his actions and love for sushi seem to keep him from departing. As long as there is sushi there will be Jiro but even Jiro see's errors in this way of thinking.
In one brief moment of the film Jiro talks about the depleting quality of tuna and fish on the market. This due in part to a proliferation of sushi being sold and the excessive fishing practices of corporations. Time not only seems to be short for Jiro but also for his pursuit of the best sushi. If the quality is not there in the fish then it won't be there on the plate.
One thing is certain is that Jiro's sons will continue the pursuit of making better sushi. It is revealed in the film that Yoshikazu was the preparer of sushi when the restaurant was given its highest awards. Clearly Jiro is not the last sushi master but rather a cornerstone in developing better and better sushi. Jiro's passion for sushi is expressed eloquently in words that could easily fit into any ancient book of wisdom. Through many hardships and circumstances that would harden the best of us, Jiro seems to transpose difficulties into fuel for his pursuit and passion of sushi. Some would see an owner of a restaurant as a job, but Jiro sees his work as his life. His love for what he does transcends financial gain and fame. Jiro's spirit is gentle but his discipline is strong. One could say that Jiro's work ethic is from another time and he is part of a dying breed. But just as Jiro passes on his sushi technique, so does he pass on his point of view on life.
Gelb explores a man whose dreams are both fulfilled and unfulfilled. But unfulfillment leads to betterment. Ono says, "I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is." Whatever our dreams may be or wherever our passions lay, let us continue to strive for the top, wherever that may be. And maybe along the way we can enjoy some sushi.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Under the Boardwalk: The MONOPOLY Story
Check your basement shelves, or a closet in a guest room. Maybe even in your kids room under their bed. Wherever it may be most likely you have a copy of the board game MONOPOLY. When you find the game, what memories does the game bring up for you? Maybe it's playing the game on a summer vacation with your family. Or playing "a friendly" game that turns into a controversy for years to come. Love the game or hate it, MONOPOLY is a board game that has become a piece of Americana. A game that, for many of us, introduces us to the perils of taxes, paying rent, mortgages and bankruptcy.
The documentary Under the Boardwalk (Tostado, 2010) examines the history MONOPOLY while also following various competitors of the American MONOPOLY championship and the world championship. The film neatly juxtaposes both history and tournament without being overtly suffocating. The filmmakers don't take themselves too seriously in their examination of the game but fully understand the competitive nature of the tournaments. By mixing both light and tense moments we come to experience various emotions that the game brings to people. At times the filmmakers show us the thought process of various competitors. The competitors explain their moves and what they hoped would come from them. When the moves and die rolls work we witness triumph, but when they fail we see how slim the margins are between victory and defeat. What the film shows is the complex strategy's that goes into competitive play and makes MONOPOLY seem more intense than a chess grandmasters face-off.
Even with such intense strategy and competition the filmmakers show us the quirky side of MONOPOLY. Enough time is spent on the different game pieces and which ones are the most popular. There is also an exploration into fanatics of the game. Some having a massive cadre of MONOPOLY variations and themes. Some of these fanatics lead us through the history of the game. By looking at the history of the game we come to see how influential the game has become internationally and how the game has also become an educational tool.
One of the more fascinating aspects to the MONOPOLY story is the invention of the game and its original purpose. The original manifestation of the game was designed to show the perils of capitalism and potentially to be used as a tool to promote other economic systems. With time and redevelopment and a journey across parts of northeast America, the game becomes what we know it to be today. If anything the game promotes a capitalist mindframe and the desire to be the last one standing with the cash.
Under the Boardwalk is part of a breed of documentary film that makes us appreciate a piece of American culture. The film shows us the ability of a board game to unite people for a moment of leisure and also unite people in the competitive realm. What this film may very well do for those who watch it, is lead you to finding a copy of the game and playing it. In some ways this documentary film leads one to action. Not in a world changing or protesting way as a political or social documentary would, but action that forces us to have fun. Just hope that if you do play the game, you end the game having had fun and not tasting sour grapes from dice rolls gone wrong.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Cave of Forgotten Dreams
Dreams are illusive. As quickly as the lucid state of consciousness comes upon us and delves our minds into fantastic reality, we awake with images and glimmers of events that possessed our minds in a mysterious period of time. We remember what we can and maybe even hide those dreams that shake our senses. There are countless deciphers of dreams; psychologists, mediums, doctors, coworkers and friends. We search for the meaning of our dreams and often find ourselves with more questions than answers. In Werner Herzong's Cave of Fogotten Dreams, Herzog is given access to a shut away world of the past. That past is in the Chauvet cave in southern France. The cave holds ancient drawings and artifacts, preserved in a pristine state. The paintings on the wall depict a time forgotten by our modern world. The drawings speak of a peoples life, world, and dreams.
Though Cave of Forgotten Dreams is a document of the discovery and scientific thoughts about the cave, it seems that Herzog's interest go beyond those modes of understanding the cave. Herzog's intentions of discovering the meaning of the images on the caves walls and their importance seems to be more of the obsession for him. Herzog's time was limited in the cave and so his crew captured as much of the accessible parts of the cave as possible. Cave of Forgotten Dreams was originally released in cinema's in a 3D. Herzog intentionally shot the interior of the cave walls in 3D so as to come as accurately as possible to sharing the symmetry of the cave walls with the rest of the world. With the release of the film on Blu-ray or DVD one could watch the film in 3D or 2D. This post about the Cave of Forgotten Dreams is written with the 2D version in mind.
The centerpiece of Cave of Forgotten Dreams are the cave paintings. The cave paintings are mostly of animals; cave bears, horses, lions, rhinoceros and others. One part of the caves wall is covered in hand prints in red coloring. What is awe inspiring about the primitive art is the freshness of the drawings. The cave has kept near perfect drawings even after the passing of centuries. Herzog focuses on more than the drawings but rather what the artist/s has tried to depict with the drawings. The animals are not just a drawing on cave walls but there is a story that is being told. Some of the animals have more than the appropriate number of legs. Herzog describes these animals as being in motion. This motion is in a way a primitive cinematic experience. Herzog imagines the light from fires casting their flickering shadows on the walls of the cave at night. Each flicker of shadow like the passing of a film cell through a projector. When the drawings are combined with the contours of the cave walls the animals further come alive. Herzog can only speculate what the stories on these cave walls were. Even those interviewed can only see the importance of the images in an anthropological and archeological sense. But one can always imagine the stories and even the dreams of these people and Herzog tries to get us as close as possible to those dreams.
Throughout the film Herzog detaches the film from an informational documentary to a film that just captures the time and place. The cameras pan and move through the cave. The shots are sometimes wide panoramic views of the cave and then there are close-ups of the animals and the intricate design of the animals. Herzog's crew passes a light over the drawings, trying to recreate the shadows that might have existed with a fire or sunlight of century's ago. Coupled with these shots is the operatic soundtrack that adds a sense of grandeur and opus to the images. It may be a bit heavy handed but this is common Herzog device to illicit awe in the world in which he is filming. What Herzog may really be trying to do is not put music to his film but rather the story that is on the cave walls. It is as if our more modern music could capture the scope of the potential stories that the cave has to offer. In one section Herzog interviews a scientist who talks about a primitive flute that was found in a similar cave. The scientist plays the Star Spangled Banner with the flute but one can see that for a civilization years beyond our comprehension there may very well have been a full experience of sight and sound in their story telling. The primitive flute may have added a layer to the ancient story telling of the cave paintings. This further taking the cave paintings and making them extra sensory and beyond the everyday world of those people. Just as filmmakers today put us in worlds beyond ourselves with various cinematic aesthetics and technologies.
Herzog's exploration of the Chauvet cave is an exploration of the dreams of a people long gone. Their only remains can only offer us so much just as our dreams leave us with such little. Our dreams are no different from those of centuries past. Sure our tools and worlds are different, but we are still grasping at wonder and searching for the purposes of our dreams. At the end of the film Herzog tells us that the cave is being even more restricted due to the discovery of mold on the caves walls due to the explorations that have taken place. There is still much more to explore but time has a way of breaking down the dreams and desires. Langston Hughes once wrote that there are two ends to all dreams, fulfilled and unfulfilled. Both are tragedies. Such is the Cave of Forgotten Dreams.
" No other art-medium—neither painting nor poetry—can communicate the specific quality of the dream as well as the film can. When the lights go down in the cinema and this white shining point opens up for us, our gaze stops flitting hither and thither, settles and becomes quite steady. We just sit there, letting the images flow out over us. Our will ceases to function. We lose our ability to sort things out and fix them in their proper places. We're drawn into a course of events—we're participants in a dream." - Ingmar Bergman
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Tokyo Olympiad
Competition has a way of bringing out the true character in ones self. It is possible that by exposing ones character in a competitive realm that those competitors would be able to come to some sort of understanding about each other. The modern Olympic games began in 1896, nations from around the globe came to compete in varying events to showcase not only ones national talent but also to demonstrate that competition through athletics was better than competition through war. Unfortunately some of the Olympic games have been cancelled due to war or have been boycotted by differing nations over political purposes. This year athletes will once again come together in London to compete in the summer Olympic games. With each Olympic games the host country designates certain filmmakers to document the events of those games in a manner that is fitting. In 1964 at the Tokyo Olympics Kon Ichikawa documented the games, in what many critics feel to be as one of the most important documentarys of the Olympics. Tokyo Olympiad is more than a film that retells the events of that years games but rather is a piece that delves into the soul of Olympic games and the peaceful balance that comes from competition.
The opening of Tokyo Olympiad is a shot of the sun as it hangs in the sky. It is not certain whether this is the sun of the dawn or at sunset but Ichikawa connects the natural world as not only being the symbol of the Japanese flag but also the source of life to the Olympic games. Ichikawa then juxtaposes shots of preparation for the games with the transportation of the Olympic torch, from Athens to Tokyo. In these brief moments Ichikawa establishes the form in which he is going to tell the story of this Olympic games. There is narration in some parts but then there is narration soley through editing and juxtaposition of images. Ichikawa does not want to just tell us what happened but experience the total aspects of the Olympic games. This total approach, focusing not just on athletes and results but on the varying components of the Olympic games, allows the audience to experience the soul of the games. This soul is related to what George Plimpton writes in his thoughts about the film:
"I remember Earnest Hemingway telling me once that the unnoticed things in the hands of a good writer had an effect, and a powerful one, of making readers conscious of what they had been aware of only subconsioucsly. A parallel addage suggests that a great photographer can take a picture of a familiar street and tell you something about it you never knew before. After watching the 1964 Tokyo Olympiad, one can surely say that Ichikawa is of that tradition."
"I remember Earnest Hemingway telling me once that the unnoticed things in the hands of a good writer had an effect, and a powerful one, of making readers conscious of what they had been aware of only subconsioucsly. A parallel addage suggests that a great photographer can take a picture of a familiar street and tell you something about it you never knew before. After watching the 1964 Tokyo Olympiad, one can surely say that Ichikawa is of that tradition."
The soul of the Tokyo games can also be characterized by the Japanese term Mono No Aware. Mono No Aware can be described as, "the way of things" or the passing notion of things. In some respects one can say that the defining moments of Mono No Aware are not in grandiose moments but rather the fine details of living. In one scene the filmmaker follows one of the athletes from the African country of Chad. That year Chad only sent two athletes to the games and the athlete that is focused on is a runner in the 800 meter event. Ichikawa does not invade the athlete with questions, thoughts or sentimentality. Rather Ichikawa follows the routine of the athlete at a distance letting us take in this athlete without any expectation. We see the athlete train in the Olympic village alone, even though he is surrounded by other athletes training. We see the athlete eat diner in the Olympic village cafeteria. Once again he is alone, even though he is in a room filled with other athletes. The narrator expresses how the athlete qualified for the semi-final round and that is more than what could have been hoped for by this athlete. We then see the athlete compete in the semi-final and not qualify for the finals. Ichikawa cuts between the athlete running and the opening ceremony where the athlete enters the track. By running the race the athlete is representing more than himself but his nation on a grand stage. Even though victory is not in store there is a solemn pride in having competed. The athlete walks off the track and that is the Olympic games for him. This result is easily lost in the history of the 800 meter event but Ishikawa shows the importance of this athletes journey as one that defines what the Olympics are about. Even in such a prestigous competition as the Olympics, which is wrought with drama, there is silent drama that plays itself out in the simple moment of walking off the track or an official collecting hammers after the hammer throw. If we focus on who won or lost we miss "the way" of that competition. Ichikawa refuses to let us miss "the way of things."
In one instance Ichikawa shows us the mens 100 meter final. The race takes no more than ten seconds and it is easy to miss who actually won the race or what happened during the race. Ichikawa not only shows us the real time event but then goes back and shows the event in slow motion. From the placing of the starting blocks to the preparation of the runners, to the split second of the start and the springing into motion countless muscles, the 100 meter race never felt so long. At least we are not able to miss the details of the competition. Each moment of the race is imperative and by viewing the parts of the race in slow motion we are able to better appreciate the whole race. It is throughout Tokyo Olympiad that Ishikawa uses slow motion to show us the "way of things" in competition.
Ishikawa does not show us all the events of the 1964 Olympics but even in brief highlights we are shown the humanity of competition and the struggle to push ones self beyond their limits. The marathon races is the last competition to be run in the Olympics and is the last event focused on in Tokyo Olympiad. Ishikawa follows the competitors through the long grueling race as they travel the streets of Tokyo. The pained expressions of the runners faces and the crowds that line the streets in eager aplomb shows that the marathon is more than a race to see who can win but who can finish the distance. Ishikawa focus's on the runners as they come to water stops. The camera's focus on how the runners take a drink or refuel before going forward. Some runners come to a complete stop and one can wonder if those runners are having doubts about finishing. Other runners refuel and go trying to keep their momentum. The winner of the race, Abebe Bikila of Ethiopia, is shown as a driving force. His stride and look of determination does not waver. In one instance Ishikawa follows Bikila in a slow motion close up. The slow motion makes Bikila look as if each stride is easy and that even in the longest race of the Olympics there is a beauty to running such a great distance. Bikila would win the race easily but Ishikawa does not just focus on him.
Ishikawa also shows the difficulties of finishing the race. He shows one runner who breaks down and comes to a stop, eventually sitting down on the side of the road asking for water. The spectators help him but the race is over for that runner. Even those who finish are left to deal with recovering from the long distance. There are blistered feet, exhausted muscles and broken bodies. In many ways Ishikawa uses the marathon as a microcosm for the entire Olympic games. But even as the competitions come to an end and pass away, there is always the hope of an even greater competition that lies ahead.
The film closes with the closing ceremony of the games. Certainly the closing ceremony is not as grand in the film as they are in these more modern times. Ishikawa though shows that the beauty of the end of the games is centered in the unity of the athletes celebrating their triumphs. The representatives of the varying nations come together in the Olympic stadium and wave their goodbyes and we are left with the expectation that the next Olympic games could be even greater. There is much one can write about Tokyo Olympiad ( And I could certainly write more!) What Tokyo Olympiad still shows us is the fading beauty of competition and (in the words of a wise Teacher) that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but time and chance happen to them all.
In one instance Ichikawa shows us the mens 100 meter final. The race takes no more than ten seconds and it is easy to miss who actually won the race or what happened during the race. Ichikawa not only shows us the real time event but then goes back and shows the event in slow motion. From the placing of the starting blocks to the preparation of the runners, to the split second of the start and the springing into motion countless muscles, the 100 meter race never felt so long. At least we are not able to miss the details of the competition. Each moment of the race is imperative and by viewing the parts of the race in slow motion we are able to better appreciate the whole race. It is throughout Tokyo Olympiad that Ishikawa uses slow motion to show us the "way of things" in competition.
Ishikawa does not show us all the events of the 1964 Olympics but even in brief highlights we are shown the humanity of competition and the struggle to push ones self beyond their limits. The marathon races is the last competition to be run in the Olympics and is the last event focused on in Tokyo Olympiad. Ishikawa follows the competitors through the long grueling race as they travel the streets of Tokyo. The pained expressions of the runners faces and the crowds that line the streets in eager aplomb shows that the marathon is more than a race to see who can win but who can finish the distance. Ishikawa focus's on the runners as they come to water stops. The camera's focus on how the runners take a drink or refuel before going forward. Some runners come to a complete stop and one can wonder if those runners are having doubts about finishing. Other runners refuel and go trying to keep their momentum. The winner of the race, Abebe Bikila of Ethiopia, is shown as a driving force. His stride and look of determination does not waver. In one instance Ishikawa follows Bikila in a slow motion close up. The slow motion makes Bikila look as if each stride is easy and that even in the longest race of the Olympics there is a beauty to running such a great distance. Bikila would win the race easily but Ishikawa does not just focus on him.
Ishikawa also shows the difficulties of finishing the race. He shows one runner who breaks down and comes to a stop, eventually sitting down on the side of the road asking for water. The spectators help him but the race is over for that runner. Even those who finish are left to deal with recovering from the long distance. There are blistered feet, exhausted muscles and broken bodies. In many ways Ishikawa uses the marathon as a microcosm for the entire Olympic games. But even as the competitions come to an end and pass away, there is always the hope of an even greater competition that lies ahead.
The film closes with the closing ceremony of the games. Certainly the closing ceremony is not as grand in the film as they are in these more modern times. Ishikawa though shows that the beauty of the end of the games is centered in the unity of the athletes celebrating their triumphs. The representatives of the varying nations come together in the Olympic stadium and wave their goodbyes and we are left with the expectation that the next Olympic games could be even greater. There is much one can write about Tokyo Olympiad ( And I could certainly write more!) What Tokyo Olympiad still shows us is the fading beauty of competition and (in the words of a wise Teacher) that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but time and chance happen to them all.
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