Hairspray (2007)

“What is missing from “Hairspray” is anything beyond the faintest whisper of camp,” or so says the New York Times review.  The 2007 version of Hairspray may not live up to the “campiness” of the original, but it definitely comes close.  Sure, it’s missing the bomb placed in the giant wig, but it does have Tracy riding a garbage truck and Link creepily singing to a picture of Tracy in Tracy’s room, complete with licking the photograph and eating the candy bar he finds underneath her pillow.  This is “the essence of unnatural.”  The film exaggerates almost everything; the dancing, the hair, what it’s like to fall in love.  I think this it more than a mere “whisper” of camp.

                While the two are connected through how campy they are, one cannot ignore the numerous differences between the films.  Let’s start with the most obvious; the remake is a full fledged musical.  This is to be expected with the success of turning Waters’ original screenplay into a musical, but it still changes the way the film is received.  I for one think this adds to the campiness of the film.  It’s unnatural to sing a song about the boy you have a crush on after he simply bumps you, not to mention the fact that it’s complete with a dance.  On some levels this may make it harder for the audience to relate to, but then again it definitely keeps their attention.  The review comments on how clear the songs are, saying that they “are usually adequate, occasionally inspired and only rarely inane. And they are sung with impeccable diction and unimpeachable conviction by a lively young cast.”  The songs might be cheesy, but we find ourselves singing along.  This is where the “you don’t want to like it, but you do” aspect of camp comes into play for many of us.

Another main difference was the role of Edna.  Although both films used a male actor, her role seems to shift.  In the first one, she takes charge right away, but in the second one, she hasn’t set foot out of the house in years and does not come up with the idea of being Tracy’s manager on her own; Tracy has to talk her into it.  I think this change was added to revamp the issue of weight.  Initially, it was in the background, but the remake brings it to life with small changes like Edna’s lack of confidence, the constant need for food, and Link’s slip up of telling Tracy she is “too big of an adventure” for him to take on.  While subtle, these changes help reinforce the idea that one can be big and beautiful, which seemed to be even more lost along the way in 2007 than it was in 1988.

They also cut out the role of Amber’s father.  He is only referenced once when Amber’s mother claims that he “accidentally suffocated himself.”  This plays up the idea of feminism through one character alone.  Velma VonTussle is a woman of power.  She gets what she wants by any means necessary and ultimately is very successful.  She has become the embodiment of the upper class, and we can’t stand her.  Maybe her character is overplayed to make up for losing the strong, confident woman through and through in Edna (though she does gain confidence as the film progresses) but then again maybe this was an intentional stab at the upper class.  She is, in fact, one of few against integration and is certainly one of the most vocal.

The ending was also quite different as it was an organized protest that caused trouble, and Tracy never actually spent time in jail; she was a runaway that was never caught.  In this film, they do not need to take it to the law (the governor) but it seems as though the integrated dance floor is the symbol for the entire city of Baltimore.  The Corny Collins Show has the power to decide the fate of the city.  Throughout the final scenes, the film does a good job of making law enforcement seem completely useless.  They lie about what happened with Tracy, drastically exaggerating the minor incident, and they can’t seem to do their jobs well as they not only fail to find Tracy, but also fall for the trick that initially makes them bring her into the studio. 

As far as ideology, both films go against it any try to promote a change, usually in the form of acceptance (of race, weight, powerful women, interracial couples, etc.) but I think the two films have a slight shift in emphasis.  I already mentioned that the remake discussed weight more in depth, most likely due to the media influence during the time it was released.  The most prominent issue in both films is without a doubt the issue of segregation.  I found it a little offensive in the first one when the black kids were sent to special education to “prohibit them from advancing” and noticed how that was cut out of the remake and replaced with a detention room that the students actually wanted to get in.  I think cutting this was a wise choice.  We all remember the heat Tropic Thunder got in for saying “the r-word” which I believe was said in the original film.  I also noticed the scene added with them all in the bus in which the three white kids (Penny, Tracy, and Link) were sitting in the very back seat of the bus while the front was filled with the black kids.  This might have been in the original (I am not 100% sure) but it represents a complete shit in ideology as it reverses the norm.

The original seemed to embrace the era of the 60’s; great hair, great style, unforgettable dance moves, but I felt at times the remake made fun of it.  Most obvious is the scene in which the pregnant women are all smoking and drinking in the bar, a socially acceptable thing in the 60’s.  The opinion on relationships also saw a slight shift as the original placed a lot of emphasis on who was “going steady” and who was not, but the remake had two teen couples; Link and Tracy and Penny and Seaweed.  We knew very little about the council members and their social lives, yet the movie still felt complete.  This film also brought to life the single, working mother through Velma.  While it wasn’t unheard of in the 60’s, single parents were much more common in 2007 so it was fitting to have representation (although definitely not the best).

As the film adapted to better fit the new era, the ideologies took a slight shift as well.  Unfortunately, we are still face to face with many of the same issues, though some, such as integration, have definitely been downsized.  In the long run, Hairspray can speak to nearly every generation.  As the review states, ““Hairspray” is fundamentally a story about being young — about the triumph of youth culture, about the optimistic, possibly dated belief that the future will improve on the present.”  That message just doesn’t get old.

Hairspray (1988)

“I’m big, blonde, and beautiful.”  Yes, Tracy Turnblad is all of the above, and refreshingly accepted for this.  In a world where women were expected to have the perfect hair, skin, and overall immaculate body in order to be accepted, Tracy defies the odd by winning the crown and getting the guy for being who she is (plus a little blonde hair dye).  Her weight was far from an issue unless she was the target of an easy hit by the jealous Amber.  While feminism plays a big role in this film, the main issue is segregation.  By displacing the issue and condensing it to Baltimore’s teens, John Waters can send messages to the people who can make the biggest change: the teens.

I think that the teen generation of the 60’s took a larger political stance than most other generations, and targeting teens was a good move.  Roger Ebert, however, disagrees.  In his review he claims that “The movie probably has the most to say to people who were teenagers in the early '60s, but they are, I suppose, the people least likely to see this movie. It also will appeal to today's teenagers, who will find that every generation has its own version of Corny Collins, and its own version of the Council, designed to make you feel like a worthless reject on the trash heap of teenage history.”  Ok, so the scene with the spotlight made us both feel bad for the girls subjected to it while making us relive our own high school traumas, but doesn’t that help us relate to the film?  And maybe the teens from the 60’s won’t want to see this film, but Ebert can’t deny that it will appeal to the teens of the 80’s (and following decades) which is who I think Waters wants to appeal to.

It doesn’t take research to show that segregation, while on a much smaller level, is still an issue we are dealing with.  If one can persuade teens to reject segregation and accept integration, we stand a better chance of sticking with that ruling.  If a movie wants to do that, we must relate to the characters that make the decision to integrate.  Tracy Turnblad’s character handles this job extremely well.  She is not the average lead role but is a more traditional teenage girl.  Unlike Amber is not from a rich, well off family, doesn’t have the perfect life or the perfect body, but still manages to be a beloved character we all want to win.  While I feel most can identify with Tracy at one point or another, Waters represents a variety of women, giving us the opportunity to identify with at least one.  This was a great move on his part because it shows both sides of women and does not always stereotype them.

One of the best examples of this was Edna and Velma.  These women could not be further apart, however both demonstrate control.  Velma’s control is in a much more obvious sense, but Edna still steps up as Tracy’s agent and leads the fight for her daughter when things go south.  By doing this, the film shows that in reality, women have multiple personalities, and one individual woman can change identities depending on the circumstances.  The representation continues with Motor mouth Mabel.  She takes on a motherly role and the characters almost unanimously love her even though she is black.  For her, color is not an issue as she welcomes Penny and Tracy without hesitation.  Unlike Penny’s mother, she is ok with her son dating a white girl.  Again, this shows the differences in women.  One is crazy, the other is logical, and the logical one is in fact black.

The interracial couple is another controversial point.  Generally it was frowned upon and avoided in films, but this movie embraces it and suggests that it is far from a bad thing.  Their relationship (despite its cheesiness like most in the film) is one of the better ones as they don’t quickly grow tired of each other and swap partners. 

Roper may believe this movie lacks any message, but I disagree with that.  Don’t let the comedy fool you.  I think it uses comedic relief to appeal to the audience and relieve tension on numerous controversial issues.  Maybe changing her hair from a ratted out (or feathered) poof to stick straight is a cheesy symbol for change, but it worked, and it is a comedy.  I would say that I was disappointed in the representation of men and they generally were left in the background and feminism was in the foreground much more than masculinity.  We know very litle about Link and Corny except for the fact that they are for integration, and the husbands seem to simply go along with their wives for the most part.  I do still feel that the film deals with numerous issues: weight, feminism, stereotypes, integration, politics, interracial relationships…I think in the wide variety of issues, one can easily find a message.

Do the Right Thing

“Fight the power.”  It should be as simple as that.  All will be right in the world if one simply stands up and fights the power.  This idea has one big problem; it does not specify by violent or nonviolent means.  That is a choice to be made from situation to situation and person to person, as shown in the differing quotes at the end of Do the Right Thing.  The film lives out the conflict of integrating races and the reality of living in a multiracial community.  The common misconception that integration of all blacks will stop all rioting or opposition because it will put them in the same lifestyles therefore at the same levels of the white people is lived out in this film.  Despite adaptations and mixtures, one problem still stands: white is white and black is black.

While it seems as if this is a very blatant binary, the film does a good job of blurring the oppositions, which makes it both more realistic and more relatable.  When in comparison with other films dealing with race that we have watched for the class, this film does not have an untouchable, angelic good character fighting against an almost inhuman evil character.  In fact, there is no distinct fight involving the police.  It isn’t a one case situation, but rather an ongoing struggle void of explicit battles.  This struggle is only in its developing stages; it is building up, even if it cannot be detected quite yet.  Sal, the Italian-American owner of the local pizzeria located in a black neighborhood, talks of how he has been there for 25 years and watched the kids grow up.  He tells his son that they are good people and have never done anything to them.  In Sal’s eyes, this is reason enough to trust them.

There seems to be a generally civil understanding amongst them.  Sal’s two sons provide a good example.  Pino hates living in the black community and compares going to work every day with living in the film Planet of the Apes.  On the other hand, his brother Vito almost seems to be a “brother,” as he relates to Mookie, his black co-worker turned friend and confidant.  Mookie actually listens to him, which is a foreign concept, and even suggests he stands up for himself and fights Pino if necessary.  At first glance, this seems to be a genuine move.  Mookie appears to be looking out for Vito and convincing him of his self worth, something his father and brother fail to do.  I can’t help but wonder if Mookie had ulterior motives and wanted to spark a tension amongst the family.  After all, it was the tree of them against the neighborhood.  They had to stick together to stand a fighting chance; a broken family for them was more dangerous than usual.

By creating characters that seem average and human to us, the binary oppositions are much more effective.  It appears as though Sal is the exception to the rule; the black community will accept him in the neighborhood.  They even take his side over Buggin’ Out’s when he tries to organize a boycott.  The differences don’t seem as blatant as usual.  It isn’t one race versus another.  Americans, Italians, African Americans, Koreans, and Hispanics are all represented, but in this movie, they all spend time as victims.  Roger Ebert says that “Spike Lee had done an almost impossible thing. He'd made a movie about race in America that empathized with all the participants. He didn't draw lines or take sides but simply looked with sadness at one racial flashpoint that stood for many others.”  Ironically, the film is called Do the Right Thing, but Lee never outlines what the right thing is.  I think that’s the beauty of it; there is not clear cut right and wrong.

Another point I would like to bring up is the elapse of time.  This all takes place within a 24 hour period, which I think is a very smart and relevant move.  In that time, we get a sense of the history of the community.  Lee makes it very realistic by incorporation events and cultural aspects of the time (Howard Beach, Tawana, Public Enemy) into the film as well.  Time isn’t wasted on describing the setting or plot, we dive right in, and it works.  This made it possible to limit the film to one day, which emphasizes how drastically and quickly things can change.  At the start of the movie, Sal isn’t worried at all about living in that community, even when the cops question it, relocating isn’t on his mind.  He views these people as his neighbors in a community he is both welcome in and very much a part of, but this all changes when Mookie is the first to destroy the pizzeria after the death of Radio Raheem.  It only took one event to completely change the dynamics of the community.  The final scene, however, made me wonder just how much things had changed, and for how long.  After Mookie gets his money, he has an awkward yet casual conversation with Sal.  Small talk, they talk about the weather and the never ending heat wave.  It almost seems as though it is the first step toward moving on because despite what they do, black is black and white is white.

Shaft (2000)

“It’s my duty to please that booty.”  One must love the brilliant writing of 2000’s Shaft sequel…or not.  I think I am in good company in saying that it is more than ok to think this movie is much more ridiculous than the first one; in fact, it enters an entirely different level.  I’m not sure what exactly it does in terms of blaxploitation, whereas 1971’s version made its intent very clear.  That being said, this film had potential.  Christopher Null, founder of filmcritic.com states that “the update could have been a lot of fun -- a modern-day John Shaft as tragic hero in a corrupt and oppressive NYPD,” and he’s right.  Generally sequels of action films are not complete failures, but as Null says, “If it wasn't called Shaft, no one would see this film.”

So why, aside from the pitiful lines, is this film so stupid?  The answer lies in many aspects.  First of all, some elements of fantasy can ease their way into films such as these.  For example, the audience will probably let a few unrealistic shots or fighting sequences slide if done properly, but this film crosses all lines.  It’s so unrealistic it cannot be taken seriously, which is probably the angle the director should have went with, but instead the movie attempts to be sincere, which only makes the audience laugh more.  Are we really expected to believe a man can jump through not one but two windows, not to mention the fact that they are in two separate buildings, and walk away without a single cut?  Are we supposed to believe that two cops will turn on their team and help a Mexican gang leader kill a witness for a mere $10,000?  Or that the gang leader will do it for $40,000, not in cash but jewelry to be cashed in?  The 1971 version had Bumpy paying the men $10,000 each, double for Shaft, to bring his daughter back to him.  This was 30 years ago. 

It’s not only the context of the film, but it’s the characters as well.  One of the things that made the original Shaft so cool was that he was a private eye; he was in between the law.  When this movie begins, Shaft is a detective, and one about to lose his job at that, yet manages to keep it for two more years.  He then quits, just before completing the biggest case of his life.  Sure, he now is protected by the police without the limitations, but I wonder why he chooses to search for Diane on his own without the aide provided by a police department, and for that matter, why did he wait two years to thoroughly search for the only eyewitness; the key to solving the case?  Shaft may know how to mess with people, but I certainly don’t think he’s the smartest guy, nor the guy “everyone wants to be.”

One cannot talk about this film without mentioning the music in it.  Of course, the 1971 version’s score was amazing, and rightly winning awards.  This version incorporates the original score, but it just doesn’t fit as well as it did the first time around.  The opening fit, however when paired with sexual imagery, it did not have as strong of an opening sequence as the original.  The music also contributed to discontinuity.  One scene in particular stands out; when Peoples and his men were running to his cars fast paced Latino music way playing, but then abruptly transitioning to the scene in the apartment with Diane, and slow, cheesy music was now playing.  It seemed like it was trying to be humorous, yet in was in the middle of a suspenseful sequence; the very climax of the movie.

While the original made prominent statements about race and culture, this film had less of a message.  Shaft is the obvious hero in both films, even though he is unorthodox, but we’re still rooting for him to win.  It’s the case of the “bad” guys that seems to be a bit blurred in the original, but for good cause.  It brings the focus on Shaft, and the fact that he’s fighting for what he thinks is right.  It’s for his own morals and values, and has nothing to do with being employed by the police department.  In the remake, we could not have a much more clear cut bad guy.  From the beginning, we know exactly who we are fighting against, and although Shaft probably would do something about this no matter what, he has to take a stance because of his job as a detective.  Making Peoples a prominent villain seems to knock the Hispanic community almost in an effort to raise the black community above them.  They also throw around f-bombs like none other and have the occasional n-word slip throughout the film.  If the NAACP had concerns about the blaxploitation used in the original, I can only imagine their views on this film.

Shaft (1971)

From the very first scene, we can see that Shaft is not simply the average private eye movie; it’s opening the doors for blaxploitation.  The film opens with prominent music one cannot help but to take note of, complete with a theme song for the main character, John Shaft.  The audience can tell that this guy is a big deal right away, and the fact that he is African American will not and cannot slow him down.  He runs the show, shown right away as he crosses the street by ignoring the crosswalk and walking through moving traffic, forcing it to work around him.  As he continues walking, the camera focuses on the flashing “Don’t Walk” sign, which he completely ignores, demonstrating that he breaks the rules.  This shot also brings into play the main idea of the blaxploitation drama, which is to break the unwritten rule of cinema for that time: white males play heroes, black males play villains.

Roger Ebert claims that Shaft is “the first really convincing black private eye,” and that “the strength of Parks’ movie is his willingness to let his hero fully inhabit the private-eye genre, with all of its obligatory violence, blood, obscenity, and plot gimmicks.”  He places this movie among the best of the private eye genre films, and I cannot argue with this statement, but while Ebert only brushes on the topic of blaxploitation, I think that is what makes this movie great.  If John Shaft would have been the average private eye (white guy solving crimes for other white men, generally fighting against a black enemy) it would have been an average private eye film, most likely not ranking among the top.  Instead, this movie reverses the idea cinema had traditionally planted in our minds.

I already brushed on the prominent role John Shaft has, but essentially it is his character that fulfills the idea of blaxploitation.  While he may not always use traditional tactics, he gets the job done, and is respected for that.  The white policemen have to ask him for help; he knows more about what is going on within the precinct than the actual cops do.  In fact, the police almost rely on him, as they protect him and keep him from going to jail and even simply being questioned because he is such a central figure.  The citizens also know of his importance and trust him, which is shown early on when Shaft takes down the man in the lobby despite many onlookers.  They do not question him, and he knows they won’t.  The elevator operator even asks him if everything is ok, offering assistance without even knowing the entire situation.  His skin color plays little role except for when he cannot get a cab right away.  Other than that, he is an authority figure.

The filmmaker does not only use Shaft to enhance the blaxploitation, but rather uses multiple techniques, such as a complete reversal when Shaft’s team uses the fire hose against the white mafia, similar to the way the police would hose down blacks during Civil Rights protests.  There also is a scene in the bedroom when the camera focuses on two photographs on the nightstand, and in between the photographs is a small figurine of a Black Panther, something that would not dare appear in a film about a white investigator.  The audience has already related to and grown to like Shaft, so the figurine just makes us realize that the Black Panther group may not be as dehumanized as we once thought.  Our misconception is again challenged when Shaft’s “partner” for this case tells Bumpy that he will not “risk brothers just because your daughter is black,” changing the idea that we have that all blacks are the same and will stick together simply due to race.  He goes on to say that he will do this for the money and wants $10,000 per head, which makes them seem even more relatable than we initially imagined as money is the driving force.

                Throughout the film, Shaft is always one step ahead, and of course, ends up winning.  He is the cross between good guy and badass the audience wants to win, whether they are white or black.  It almost seems as though the blaxploitation aspects are not even noticed at some points; the audience treats it as a private eye genre film without any subliminal messages.  Who cares that the first white represented in the film is the man at the newsstand who seems rather unintelligent, that the most prominent white character (the detective) is always one step behind Shaft, or that the white bartender is obviously gay, which was not widely accepted in the 1970’s?  The fact that these appear to be minor details means it worked, and the many blaxploitation films that sparked from this one can attest to that statement as well.  I think this film was well made, but it made me wonder why it is difficult for me to think of any recent (with the exception of Tyler Perry) films that have had a nearly all black cast, especially in the action genre?

Once Upon a Time in the West

Most of the films I have previously reviewed for this course were considered masterpieces right out of the gate, and this label was not questioned until years later if at all.  Once Upon a Time in the West, however, had almost the exact opposite effect.  The New York Times review published the day after the film was released does not have high praise for the film and flat out calls it bad saying, “Granting the fact that it is quite bad, ‘Once Upon the Time in the West’ is almost always interesting, wobbling, as it does, between being an epic lampoon and a serious homage to the men who created the dreams of Leone's childhood.”  Today, the general consensus is much different.  Even the comments posted in response to this review show an overwhelming support of this film, going as far as to call it “the best Western ever made.”  Why do the views of a 1969 audience seem almost opposite in comparison to a present day audience?  I believe the answer lies within the ideology, which has clearly changed in those 40 years.

Our textbook defines ideology as “the ways in which a certain image of one’s place in the world becomes internalized and then functions as a guide to proper conduct in a given social context” (503).   Using The Searchers as a sample of the “proper conduct,” there are obvious changes and disruptions in the dominant ideology of the time.  Let’s start with the obvious: Henry Fonda.  The audience sees him and expects a kind, soft spoken gentlemen.  They get a point-blank child shooting villain.  To make matters even more confusing, this is not the first shoot out we see.  Instead of the film building up to one final shoot out in which the good guys take down the bad (like any good Western should) the first action of the film is one of these shoot outs, except it’s so soon that we really are not sure which side is good and which side is bad, which is where I believe the biggest ideological challenge lies within distinguishing who is good and who is evil.

We want to believe that the nameless harmonica man is good because he shot the men that hassled the poor old station attendant, but we question in because how many “good guys” appear out of nowhere and shoot three men for an undisclosed reason?  The portrayal of him with Cheyenne still does not allow us to properly label him.  The same can be said for Cheyenne.  He appears to be evil; when he enters everything stops and all focus is on him, not to mention the fact that he is in cuffs.  His meeting with Jill makes us wonder if he really is evil.  After all, he seems to want to help her, and at this point, he seems to be fighting against Mr. Harmonica.  I seem to be rambling on about the confusion, but this mirrors the feeling the audience gets when watching the movie.  Mr. Harmonica seems to fall into the side of evil when he sneaks up on Jill and rips her clothes, leading the audience to believe he is going to rape her.

It isn’t until the end of the movie that we have a better understanding of good vs. evil, but it is still foggy and much less clear than your average Western, challenging our ideology.  We have to accept that the “good guys” are not good through and through; they have some elements of evil.  The film also challenges the idea of sides.  It seems as though it’s every man for himself instead of one common goal uniting each other.  Mr. Harmonica is seeking revenge, and the only reason he helps Jill and Cheyenne is to attain it, so in a sense, it is for his own gain, perhaps even selfish.

Then we get to family dynamics.  The Searchers has strong family ties shown through Ethan’s five year quest for his niece and sudden change of heart.  In this film, the only sense of family is a dead one, leaving us with a whore, definitely not what a 1969 audience is used to, but exactly what Leone wanted to show.  This film makes a question good and evil, and makes us realize that our beloved heroes sometimes are not as pure as we hoped.  It also shows the average American as the villain, a drastic change from The Searchers as the Comanche were not even viewed as “human.”  What was considered normal for Westerns is challenged in a Western film, which according to the review, seems to have been rejected at the time, but today’s audience loves it because, unlike the people of that time, we can identify with some of the characters, and it fits into our dominant ideology much more neatly than the ideology of the 1960’s.

The Searchers

“Can one shot redeem a film?”  This is the question Roger Ebert challenges us to answer in his review of The Searchers, referring to Ethan’s sudden embrace of his niece, Debbie, after convincing us all his only intent was to kill her.  While Ebert describes the cinematography as “astonishingly beautiful,” the real story lies within the context of the film, where an intense hatred and misrepresentation of the Native Americans emerges throughout the entire film and is in no way covered up.  Sure, Ethan does rethink his motives and embrace Debbie at the last moment, but was this because of a change of heart towards the Comanche, or was it simply because he has finally learned of the importance of family?

Evidence throughout the movie strongly suggests the latter.  From the beginning, the Comanche are portrayed in such a negative light, the audience automatically identifies them as the “bad guys” without even realizing it or taking a look at the entire situation.  Our first encounter with the Native Americans is set up in a way that we know they are up to no good, shown by the desperate scream of Lucy when she realizes they are around, and the automatic search for the gun by her father.  When they actually appear on screen, it of course is the scary looking chief up against poor, innocent Debbie with her doll, automatically making the audience think less of Native Americans; who would harm a little girl?

We then see the complete destruction of the home of the Edwards, complete with a hazy sky and thick, black smoke filling the air.  Emotion runs high as their actions were so awful, Ethan cannot even allow the others to see what has happened.  Of course the audience now wants the good guys to win more than ever, but it is a little much when Ethan shoots an already dead Comanche twice, showing extreme disrespect.  The Comanche are even portrayed on the same level as animals when the Reverend’s plan is put to action and the men try to sneak up on the Comanche tribe in the evening, hearing only the sounds of crickets and frogs, but the calls and cries of the Comanche begin to blend in as well, taking yet another stab at the nature of these men.

The deepest stab, of course, leads directly to the significance of the scene Ebert brings up: the fact that Ethan feels as though those staying with the Comanche (including his kin) cannot be considered Americans, for being with that tribe is not being alive, leading to his decision that Debbie would be better off dead.  Hatred does not get much stronger than that.  The audience may, for a moment, think he actually has a point when we see the American girl that was held hostage and has gone completely mad, losing all comprehension whatsoever, and causing us to wonder if Debbie has had the very same fate.  This suspicion strengthens when we finally are reunited with Debbie, but she begins to speak in Comanche and leads us to believe she does not remember her family, until at the last minute she shows recognition and the urge to come back home.

All of the elements leading to the dislike and distrust of Native Americans seem to fall into the category of modernism as it easily isolates Native Americans as a whole, bunching them all into one category: heartless savages.  This plays into the idea of isolationism, which generally in Westerns goes to the hero of the film.  Ethan does live out this role, shown beautifully in the first and final shots as he is clearly alone, however the Native Americans have an intense alienation and disconnect from virtually every group but their own.  We cannot and do not relate to them at all, and we really learn nothing about them other than their ruthless nature.  While this movie is obviously not trying to represent an actual historical event or fact, we interpret this Western world as a possible reality, which is troubling because of the evident one-sidedness we are often reluctant to point out.

Of course I am not saying the Native Americans were in the right to kidnap innocent victims, I am simply stating the lines of good and evil may not be as clear cut as we wish.  During the final pursuit of the Comanche as the Edwards party invades the camp, we see a brief shot of a Comanche woman and child running, trying to escape the gunfire, but it is so quick, we barely have time to worry, an extreme contrast from the American child’s encounter with the Comanche where we enhance how horrible it is, even though the Comanche were unarmed. 

To answer Ebert’s question, no, the single shot does not make the movie.  It was crucial as the opposite outcome would have led to a disappointed, dissatisfied audience, but I do not think choosing the correct option justifies all of the previous actions.  They took a stab at the Comanche almost every chance they got; they even added a shot of Scar throwing a rock at a dog.  I also am a firm believer that this embrace signifies his want of a family and strong ties to his kin, especially since he made it clear that he had nobody left as he wrote his will, and even martin rejected him.  Ebert was right, the shots are beautiful, and it does have an intriguing plot, but I cannot say one shot erases all of the alienation and disrespect from numerous previous shots.

The Panama Deception

The dark silhouette of a woman appears on screen, taking up the entire shot.  The audience cannot help to wonder who this woman is and what story she has to tell, which is exactly what The Panama Deception sets out to do.  While we do not know much, we can tell that this woman is a civilian, and throughout her short testimony we can clearly see that she is a victim.  We barely have enough time to sympathize with her before we transition to a shot of a United States General, juxtaposing those in charge pushing their way to the front line of the battle, and those that have been in the background, yet hold the true story.  The General gives a brief testimony about his perspective of the invasion before it cuts to another civilian, this time fully visible and in distress, and finally showing the Pentagon spokesman, with an American flag proudly displayed in the background.  This sets up the documentary perfectly; although there is a strong bias, both sides are represented in an attempt to finally uncover what really happened in Panama.

Documentaries often have a main goal of persuasion and The Panama Deception easily delivers.  From the beginning the film pegs the United States as the bad guys and the citizens of Panama as the innocent victims.  During the opening testimonies, intense, dramatic music is playing, getting louder and louder as the stories become more and more harsh, but the abrupt end of this music leads in to an upbeat Latin song, producing a very happy mood as we pan through Panama pre-invasion, showing a country that was happy before the United States decided it was necessary to intervene.  The same Latin style of music plays again in the documentary, this time after the invasion has occurred, and the music is now much slower and gives off a feeling of sadness and despair, a complete turnaround from the initial song.

The film does represent both sides involved, which is a contrast necessary to become credible, especially when the basis of the documentary is interviews and personal testimony.  The use of actual footage and showing real headlines, news clips, and political documents heightens the reliability of this documentary; however, the bias and persuasion still remained throughout the film.  Trent strategically places contradicting ideas next to each other, such as actual footage of a mass burial site shown before the Pentagon spokesman flat out denies anything remotely resembling a mass burial, going as far as to indicate he is not quite sure what that term means.  Trent effortlessly makes him look both unaware and unreliable, both scary things considering his prestigious position. 

Trent may not have convinced her entire audience despite her parade of convincing evidence.  Hal Hinson, a writer for The Washington Post wonders why issues such as these have not been brought up more often in the political realm and claims that “The best explanation is that the film's allegations of misconduct, mismanagement and illegal actions by the government are without substantiation -- that is, without conclusive legal substantiation -- for a convincing case to be made,” which I understand to a point, but I cannot help to wonder if that is the real reason.  This documentary was extremely controversial and not readily picked up due to its content, which seems to strengthen the idea that there is something there we are trying to hide and cover up to prevent us from obtaining the legal substantiation necessary to make a case that can hold up in courts.  Isn’t it very possible that this topic did not come up in elections prior to the incident because it is not something we want to highlight?  Hinson does end the article by saying “Depending on a single source such as this one is always dangerous; there's the possibility that both sides are engaging in a propaganda war. But "The Panama Deception" does a superb job of documenting its case -- which if only partially true has the distinct smell of a rat.”  He is careful to cover his tracks and shy away from condemning anybody, likely because he is writing a movie review, likely to appear in the variety section, not as a headline.

Citizen Kane

A timeless classic may be a key phrase in describing Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane; however it is considered a classic due to the strategic cinematography, not because of the film in and of itself.  According to a New York Times review, “The blamable circumstance is that it fails to provide a clear picture of the character and motives behind the man about whom the whole thing revolves.”  I could not agree more.  While the storyline is not completely dry or void of intrigue, I found myself wondering what the point was and why we spent so much time in search of the meaning behind rosebud.  I also felt that while Charles Kane was the most developed character, he still was not fully developed as we were left with multiple questions regarding his life and how it came to be.  Aside from this flaw, the movie was brilliantly filmed and takes the audience deeper than most other films through the strategic use of sound, lights, shots and imagery that often mean more than initially meets the eye.

From the very first scene we know this film is going to have elements of mystery simply through the use of light.  It is very dim as we focus in on the house, causing an eerie, mysterious effect.  There is also music in the background, an extra diegetic effect that creates suspense, especially when the music intensifies as the lights suddenly go out.  This sense of mystery continues as a man falls to the ground, clearly dead, but we cannot see the face of either him or the nurse, purposefully causing the audience to question who had just died.  We then switch scenes to the film about Kane and transition to a scene in which the camera tilts down onto a massive crowd, then pans to the speaker, who is talking about the legacy of the Kane Empire, ending the mystery of who the dead body belongs to.

During the film about Kane, we see him in his old age in a wheelchair through a tilt shot, causing us to look down on him thus emphasizing  his inabilities and helplessness, and foreshadowing a little by creating some sympathy from the audience.  As this film draws to a close, we are taken to the room with the men that viewed it and soon realize that they are not satisfied with the tribute and want more, as one of the men demands to find out about rosebud, during which Welles uses a kick light, illuminating only the man’s mouth as he talks, showing that rosebud is the new mystery of this film. 

We begin to slowly unravel this mystery through the eyes of Mr. Thompson who first travels to talk with Mr. Thatcher, during which he learns of Kane’s childhood and relationship between his parents.  Welles uses a choker shot of a young Kane and his mother, showing a deep connection between the two while capturing deep emotion, which the film will later come back to.  As we continue to piece together Kane’s life, we come to a scene set in the Inquirer with Kane, Bernstein, and Leland in which Kane is talking but standing in front of the light, causing the room to be lit yet he is in the dark.  This could be interpreted as Kane representing evil (darkness) or that Kane is living in the dark and does not know what is truly important.

I believe that it is the second possibility; Kane is still living in the dark.  During his campaign for governor he gives a speech with an oversized poster of his face behind him.  The scene begins with a deep focus shot, but both the foreground and background were Kane, and the camera then zoomed in on the poster, stressing his power and significance and showing how the focus was constantly on him.  This transitions to the next scene when Susan Alexander is found out.  The scene uses an establishing shot with all three parties involved, switches to a close up of Susan as she asks, “What about me?” and returns to the establishing shot, showing that Kane has not even moved, indicating his lack of interest in her problems when his reputation is on the line. 

The very end of the film gives us a little hope that Kane is starting to get a sense of direction after Susan falls ill.  Welles uses a perfect deep focus shot of Susan in bed with the glass and spoon on the nightstand and Kane tirelessly knocking on the door.  For a moment, the focus is completely off of Kane and on Susan.  After his final divorce and sad death, all that remains are his countless possessions filling a giant room.  The camera pans across all of them, almost mocking Kane as if to say that all he has to show for his lifetime of work is a room full of statues; just objects that he cannot take with him.

I enjoyed the poetic undertones of the film and the style in which it was portrayed, but I did feel a bit disappointed when it ended.  I wanted something more; I wanted more answers and a definite answer so that I could feel as though the problem was finally resolved, which I cannot say is a feeling I ever got.  I was glad Welles revealed the identity of rosebud, but the final scene left me feeling somewhat depressed.  If that was Welles’s intent, (which it very well could have been) then bravo, job well done.  If not, perhaps I am just looking for a nonexistent happy ending.

North by Northwest

Aside from a few unrealistic special effects and the occasional cheesy line, Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959) is a movie worth watching, especially for those who truly appreciate film.  In spite of the time it was filmed, this film exemplifies techniques and style that are arguably better than some recent films that have been poorly done, lacking any thought process whatsoever.  Known for his use of the camera and delivering perfect shot after perfect shot, Hitchcock yet again delivers a film to pioneer the way we edit.  His shots have a purpose behind them, and to be honest, films running over two hours long often run the risk of losing the audience, but because of skilled techniques, this film keeps the attention of its viewers for the entire ride.

From the beginning, before we even know the real premise of the movie, there is a shot of the three men (including Roger Thornhill) sitting down to eat which then cuts to two men lingering near the entrance, foreshadowing what is to come.  By showing these two men in a separate shot instead of in an establishing shot, combining them with everybody in the restaurant, our attention is drawn to them and their suspicious demeanor.  After they approach Roger, it is evident they are up to something, but the audience is kept guessing at the severity until the camera switches from a view of the front to a view of the back, revealing a gun, thus showing what kind of trouble Roger is in and setting up the premise of the film.  From this point on, it is very fast paced and, like The New York Times review points out, the setting is constantly changing, giving the audience new things to see every step of the way.

We see an example of these fast paced changes in the first few scenes of the movie.  Within a short span of time, we have traveled from the taxi into the restaurant, then to the home of Mr. Townsend, through a busy street, into the police station, and finally into a courtroom, all with surprisingly smooth transitions that do not lose the audience.  Hitchcock displays this continuity by transitioning from the scene in which Roger is being questioned in the courtroom to the scene in which the actual trial is being held in the very same room, thus having minimal changes and evidently showing the passing of time without boring the audience by watching Roger sleep away his liquor and try to recover from the inevitable hangover.  Hitchcock does this numerous times throughout the film, often to do away with uneventful scenes, but in the case of the scene following Eve’s “clever” flirting as an attempt to get into Roger’s bed, the camera shows the train in motion as time passes while the sun sets, this time not to avoid an uneventful scene, but rather to indicate what happened between the two of them without actually having to show it, saving himself from censorship yet still creating the idea he intended.

Moving back to Eve’s flirtation (if that’s the proper label), The New York Times review believes that Hitchcock is not “really serious about [his] mystery” due to the occasional humorous anecdotes and side comments.  I disagree.  I think Hitchcock is very serious about it, which is evident in all of the suspense he creates, and the bits of humor mixed in are simply to lighten the mood and keep the audience from actually falling off of their seats since, at various points, they are on the edge waiting, the very effect a good mystery should cause.  I think this is also an important tactic for character development; should we really believe that every single character lacks a sense of humor?

Hitchcock does a good job of making this movie extremely believable, so why ruin it?  The only mistake I noticed in the film was during the dinner scene on the train.  He followed the 180-degree rule beautifully, but when the camera moved from showing his face to an over the shoulder shot, Roger went from holding his glass to having it on the table, a very minor mistake considering the movie as a whole.  With that aside, we must consider the fact that simple things like graphic matches have a large impact on believability.  I think the best example of that is the scene with the plane in the cornfield.  Shooting it in the middle of a sunny day makes it realistic and keeps it in sync with the plot of the film.  It also allows us to really see what is going on instead of having dark, blurred images from a late evening setting.  This is not to say that the scene atop Mount Rushmore should have been in daylight.  It fit to be at night and made the scene more suspenseful; climbing down would have been less of a struggle in broad daylight with full vision, just as hiding from a plane would have been a bit easier in the dark.  Besides, without this scene we would not have the final embrace between Roger and Eve, showing a classic example of continuity as they remain in virtually the same position on their train ride back to New York; an unlikely happy ending, but exactly what the audience was hoping for, making sure Hitchcock does not disappoint from start to finish.