Several examples of the long shot used well:
http://dailyfilmdose.blogspot.com/2007/05/long-take.html
I'll add to this list Dead Again. There are a few long shots in it, notably one which was filmed as a single long shot but got edited down - the first hypnotism scene in the antiques shop. It was actually a dolly shot, because they wanted smoother movement than a steadicam could provide, as it circled slowly around the room. The challenge was to make the room big enough for the camera and the track, but still make the space feel small and close.
There are other long shots as well... I may have to watch it again to note some of them. Been thinking about writing on the use of objects as narrative in film, and Dead Again has some wonderful examples of that.
Showing posts with label cinematography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinematography. Show all posts
Personal Context and Movies
There are plenty of legitimate reasons to dislike the movie Birth.
The main one is the creepy burgeoning relationship between Nicole Kidman's character and a 10 year old boy. No, it never crosses the line, but they do discuss sex, and behave in other completely inappropriate ways.
The other is the fact that the characters all seem socially retarded. As though none of them has ever been around a child, and they have no idea how to react to one. As though they have never been presented with a preposterous story and had to engage their minds to question it in more than the most shallow way.
Some folks found the pacing too slow, but that didn't bother me. I thought that the pace was as elegant as the cinematography and music - which was stunning. I re-watched the opening scene twice after the film was over.
The acting was powerful, though there were times when the dialogue seemed to be trying too hard to sound like Mamet and came off as choppy and tongue-tied. Unsure if that was a problem with the script or the actors.
Some folks were bothered by what they perceived as loose ends, but I didn't care that the ending is not neat.
In fact, there was much about the film that I enjoyed... but on the whole, my gut instinct is deep, visceral hatred. Yes, I hated this movie. I avoided watching it for a long time, because I knew I would hate it - but then I read something about it which intrigued me. (A review which said it was neither a con artist story nor a reincarnation movie.)
I should have simple passed on it.
You see, I am a widow. About the same length of time as Nicole Kidman's character, Anna - ten years. Like Anna, it took me several years to even begin dating again. My own grief was complicated by the fact that my husband as also a complete bastard (and that's being nice about it)... but I can relate strongly to the character.
I knew how much this child showing up just as she was ready to marry another man would destroy her. I knew how hard it would be. In fact, I saw it as a metaphor for the feelings that would come up in her as she prepared to marry - that the husband she thought she had finally let go of would come back and "haunt" her and she would behave in a foolish manner and even think of running away.
But what pissed me off was having her interact with this child as though he were an adult. It's one thing to believe that the kid is her husband. I can imagine being faced with this. I cannot imagine, from that point, discussing sex with this child. Allowing this child to take off his clothes and bathe with me. Allowing a kiss that has the tenderness of a lover. It simply would not happen. I would want to keep the child in my life, yes - but I would not consider making this kid my partner.
Crossing that line makes her entirely unsympathetic. Not only because of the pedophilic implications - but because it makes her weak. In fact, she doesn't grow or change. At the end of the film, she's still hung up on him, and has not been able to move on. She's crippled by her grief. I want to slap her and tell her she's not the only widow in the world. I want to medicate her. I want her to grow the fuck up and stop being a selfish, whiny little nit.
This reaction interested me, because I think it's the first time I've disliked a film because of my personal relationship to it. I've loved movies irrationally before.
I love The Long Kiss Goodnight, because it strikes a chord with me. I spent most of my life as an adventurer, traveling and pursuing goals that most people never consider. I may not have been an assassin (was never that cool!) but I definitely lived in a way that was antithetical to the PTA-mom universe. And part of me longed for that world. Part of me wanted to just put my past aside, pretend it didn't happen, have a kid and bake cookies. I make great cookies. And she's eventually able to integrate this other side, and live happily as uber-mom... Well, I do admit that the fact that I had taken a few magic mushrooms before watching it the first time may have enhanced my sense of the films profundity. (What? I was in Prague. It was legal.)
Another film I have an irrationally soft spot for is The Fifth Element. This was a decent movie. I recognize that it's not fantastic. That it's a fun ride and entertaining - and for most people not much more... but the circumstances under which I watched it the first time mean that it effected me profoundly. No, I wasn't tripping - I was grieving.
My husband and I were staying at a friend's place in the country, and I had to go into the city to work. I slept in the office at the bar where I was the head chef, because the commute was too long... I was scheduled for three days of double shifts over the weekend, and then he was going to come into Prague and we would go watch the movie together Sunday night.
Instead, our friend came to see me at work on Saturday to tell me he'd died.
Dazed, I went to see the movie a few days later. Sitting in the back of the balcony, in a mostly empty theater, I knew my husband would have thoroughly enjoyed the movie. I was moved deeply by the message that the fifth element is love. I cried a lot. And the movie still affects me more than it reasonably should.
But that's part of the wonder of art. As a poet, I long ago stopped worrying about whether people understood what I was trying to say - and became more interested in whether they came away from a poem touched or moved in some way. The poems became less about expression and more about connection. A movie becomes a collaboration with the audience. They receive it according to their interests, knowledge, abilities, circumstances - and transform it into a personal experience that makes it unique to them.
The main one is the creepy burgeoning relationship between Nicole Kidman's character and a 10 year old boy. No, it never crosses the line, but they do discuss sex, and behave in other completely inappropriate ways.
The other is the fact that the characters all seem socially retarded. As though none of them has ever been around a child, and they have no idea how to react to one. As though they have never been presented with a preposterous story and had to engage their minds to question it in more than the most shallow way.
Some folks found the pacing too slow, but that didn't bother me. I thought that the pace was as elegant as the cinematography and music - which was stunning. I re-watched the opening scene twice after the film was over.
The acting was powerful, though there were times when the dialogue seemed to be trying too hard to sound like Mamet and came off as choppy and tongue-tied. Unsure if that was a problem with the script or the actors.
Some folks were bothered by what they perceived as loose ends, but I didn't care that the ending is not neat.
In fact, there was much about the film that I enjoyed... but on the whole, my gut instinct is deep, visceral hatred. Yes, I hated this movie. I avoided watching it for a long time, because I knew I would hate it - but then I read something about it which intrigued me. (A review which said it was neither a con artist story nor a reincarnation movie.)
I should have simple passed on it.
You see, I am a widow. About the same length of time as Nicole Kidman's character, Anna - ten years. Like Anna, it took me several years to even begin dating again. My own grief was complicated by the fact that my husband as also a complete bastard (and that's being nice about it)... but I can relate strongly to the character.
I knew how much this child showing up just as she was ready to marry another man would destroy her. I knew how hard it would be. In fact, I saw it as a metaphor for the feelings that would come up in her as she prepared to marry - that the husband she thought she had finally let go of would come back and "haunt" her and she would behave in a foolish manner and even think of running away.
But what pissed me off was having her interact with this child as though he were an adult. It's one thing to believe that the kid is her husband. I can imagine being faced with this. I cannot imagine, from that point, discussing sex with this child. Allowing this child to take off his clothes and bathe with me. Allowing a kiss that has the tenderness of a lover. It simply would not happen. I would want to keep the child in my life, yes - but I would not consider making this kid my partner.
Crossing that line makes her entirely unsympathetic. Not only because of the pedophilic implications - but because it makes her weak. In fact, she doesn't grow or change. At the end of the film, she's still hung up on him, and has not been able to move on. She's crippled by her grief. I want to slap her and tell her she's not the only widow in the world. I want to medicate her. I want her to grow the fuck up and stop being a selfish, whiny little nit.
This reaction interested me, because I think it's the first time I've disliked a film because of my personal relationship to it. I've loved movies irrationally before.
I love The Long Kiss Goodnight, because it strikes a chord with me. I spent most of my life as an adventurer, traveling and pursuing goals that most people never consider. I may not have been an assassin (was never that cool!) but I definitely lived in a way that was antithetical to the PTA-mom universe. And part of me longed for that world. Part of me wanted to just put my past aside, pretend it didn't happen, have a kid and bake cookies. I make great cookies. And she's eventually able to integrate this other side, and live happily as uber-mom... Well, I do admit that the fact that I had taken a few magic mushrooms before watching it the first time may have enhanced my sense of the films profundity. (What? I was in Prague. It was legal.)
Another film I have an irrationally soft spot for is The Fifth Element. This was a decent movie. I recognize that it's not fantastic. That it's a fun ride and entertaining - and for most people not much more... but the circumstances under which I watched it the first time mean that it effected me profoundly. No, I wasn't tripping - I was grieving.
My husband and I were staying at a friend's place in the country, and I had to go into the city to work. I slept in the office at the bar where I was the head chef, because the commute was too long... I was scheduled for three days of double shifts over the weekend, and then he was going to come into Prague and we would go watch the movie together Sunday night.
Instead, our friend came to see me at work on Saturday to tell me he'd died.
Dazed, I went to see the movie a few days later. Sitting in the back of the balcony, in a mostly empty theater, I knew my husband would have thoroughly enjoyed the movie. I was moved deeply by the message that the fifth element is love. I cried a lot. And the movie still affects me more than it reasonably should.
But that's part of the wonder of art. As a poet, I long ago stopped worrying about whether people understood what I was trying to say - and became more interested in whether they came away from a poem touched or moved in some way. The poems became less about expression and more about connection. A movie becomes a collaboration with the audience. They receive it according to their interests, knowledge, abilities, circumstances - and transform it into a personal experience that makes it unique to them.
Horror with a Light Touch - Cat People 1942
I just finished watching the original Cat People, made in 1942 by Val Lewton. I didn't know anything about it, or about Mr. Lewton beforehand, only that I love the 1982 version for it's eroticism, intriguiging story, and the reluctant (and oh-so-sexy) monster that is the protagonist.
I was expecting something campy, full of melodrama and bad makeup but with a good story at the core. I've seen plenty of early horror films, and I didn't know that Cat People was different.
Cat People used classic noir cinematography to give a basic love story plot with conflicted and interesting characters a dark edge. Much of it could have gone over wrong and ended up being comical and amusing, but the scenes were just restrained enough to remain compelling.
It's a seductive film. It draws you in with a simple story, elegantly told, and plays with you - like the kittenish lead actress.
One of the things in it's favor, of course, is that lovely old black and white film stock. The "silver screen" that simply feels like you've walked into another world.
The cinematography is careful: lighting, contrast, framing, positioning of the actors, the architecture of the sets. There is a marvelous moment when the "other woman," Alice, is working late in the drafting office. Two large square tables are lit, but the overhead lights are off. The only other light comes from the street, through the window across the room, centered in the picture. Light streams upward, emphasizing the vertical elements in the room, and the line of the ceiling. The effect is to create boxes within boxes. Alice sits at the closest table, in the lower right corner.
The cat woman, beginning to be suspicious and jealous, calls the office. Alice stands up, turning off the light on the table as she does, and walks around it as the phone rings. She walks around the second table, and crosses the window to reach the phone. This makes her appear to move into those boxes, framed tighter and tighter, trapped - but not yet aware of it.
And then there's the pool scene - much like the one in the re-make. Alice sees a shadow on the steps - very briefly. Blink and you'd miss it. She dives into the pool. A tiny box of a room barely bigger than the pool, the light reflecting on the walls, echoing like the voice of the woman in the pool echoes when she screams... an eerie confusion which might make her doubt the shadow she saw moments before.
Items on the sets help reinforce the story. As Irena (the cat woman) tells the story of the evil cat people of her village in Serbia, a large painting looms over her, the corner just visible over her shoulder - featuring, of course, cats - their glowing eyes watchful. A beautiful art deco screen with a panther dominates the room. In one scene, as Irena stalks Alice and her husband - she passes the window of a florist's, which is filled with a display of tiger lilies.
Costuming is no less intentional - and sometimes witty. Irena has a black fur coat which she wears more and more often as the story progresses. It shimmers much like the panther's coat in the zoo. In the final scene, before her death, she has it draped over one shoulder - emphasizing her dual nature.
The costuming element I most enjoyed was Alice's hats. Irena has a pet bird, given to her by her husband. She accidentally frightens it to death, and then takes it to the zoo and feeds it to the panther. When she returns to the apartment, Alice is there - wearing a hat with a great feather. It's later that evening, in the same hat, that Irena stalks her for the first time. On that night, Irena kills some sheep. The next time Irena follows Alice, Alice has a pillbox had made from lambswool (the curly texture of the fur is distinctive.) Then, in the final stalking and confrontation scene, Alice has on another feathered hat.
All of this attention to detail is impressive, considering the film had a limited budget and was shot in 18 days. Val Lewton had been put in charge of RKO's new horror division, and was expected to crank out B-grade commercial schlock that would bring in cash to make up for that disaster from the previous year - Citizen Kane. The studio was angry when they saw the film, fearing it was too subtle and intelligent and would be a flop - but it was a huge success, with audiences sometimes so frightened that there was near-hysteria.
Now I'm going to have to watch some more Val Lewton films. Good thing the Curse of the Cat People is also on the same DVD.
I was expecting something campy, full of melodrama and bad makeup but with a good story at the core. I've seen plenty of early horror films, and I didn't know that Cat People was different.
Cat People used classic noir cinematography to give a basic love story plot with conflicted and interesting characters a dark edge. Much of it could have gone over wrong and ended up being comical and amusing, but the scenes were just restrained enough to remain compelling.
It's a seductive film. It draws you in with a simple story, elegantly told, and plays with you - like the kittenish lead actress.
One of the things in it's favor, of course, is that lovely old black and white film stock. The "silver screen" that simply feels like you've walked into another world.
The cinematography is careful: lighting, contrast, framing, positioning of the actors, the architecture of the sets. There is a marvelous moment when the "other woman," Alice, is working late in the drafting office. Two large square tables are lit, but the overhead lights are off. The only other light comes from the street, through the window across the room, centered in the picture. Light streams upward, emphasizing the vertical elements in the room, and the line of the ceiling. The effect is to create boxes within boxes. Alice sits at the closest table, in the lower right corner.
The cat woman, beginning to be suspicious and jealous, calls the office. Alice stands up, turning off the light on the table as she does, and walks around it as the phone rings. She walks around the second table, and crosses the window to reach the phone. This makes her appear to move into those boxes, framed tighter and tighter, trapped - but not yet aware of it.
And then there's the pool scene - much like the one in the re-make. Alice sees a shadow on the steps - very briefly. Blink and you'd miss it. She dives into the pool. A tiny box of a room barely bigger than the pool, the light reflecting on the walls, echoing like the voice of the woman in the pool echoes when she screams... an eerie confusion which might make her doubt the shadow she saw moments before.
Items on the sets help reinforce the story. As Irena (the cat woman) tells the story of the evil cat people of her village in Serbia, a large painting looms over her, the corner just visible over her shoulder - featuring, of course, cats - their glowing eyes watchful. A beautiful art deco screen with a panther dominates the room. In one scene, as Irena stalks Alice and her husband - she passes the window of a florist's, which is filled with a display of tiger lilies.
Costuming is no less intentional - and sometimes witty. Irena has a black fur coat which she wears more and more often as the story progresses. It shimmers much like the panther's coat in the zoo. In the final scene, before her death, she has it draped over one shoulder - emphasizing her dual nature.
The costuming element I most enjoyed was Alice's hats. Irena has a pet bird, given to her by her husband. She accidentally frightens it to death, and then takes it to the zoo and feeds it to the panther. When she returns to the apartment, Alice is there - wearing a hat with a great feather. It's later that evening, in the same hat, that Irena stalks her for the first time. On that night, Irena kills some sheep. The next time Irena follows Alice, Alice has a pillbox had made from lambswool (the curly texture of the fur is distinctive.) Then, in the final stalking and confrontation scene, Alice has on another feathered hat.
All of this attention to detail is impressive, considering the film had a limited budget and was shot in 18 days. Val Lewton had been put in charge of RKO's new horror division, and was expected to crank out B-grade commercial schlock that would bring in cash to make up for that disaster from the previous year - Citizen Kane. The studio was angry when they saw the film, fearing it was too subtle and intelligent and would be a flop - but it was a huge success, with audiences sometimes so frightened that there was near-hysteria.
Now I'm going to have to watch some more Val Lewton films. Good thing the Curse of the Cat People is also on the same DVD.
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