Moving images (2017 review, part 2)

The film genre is something I approach with just a little ennui. Having made deep dives into film history and seen all the acclaimed masterpieces of the past, I seldom seem to find something new to speak about. There wasn't a single film I saw in 2017 which I would call 'perfect,' but there were many great films. That will suffice.

I didn't discover many older films of note, but I finally went through The Fly (director: David Cronenberg), a horror film I had avoided because I sensed it was too gruesome for me. As it turns out, it is as gruesome as claimed, but the performances and storytelling kept me compelled. On the small screen I also saw: Get Out (director: Jordan Peele), which I liked although it was neither as scary nor as funny as online chatter made it appear - just a very tense thriller; Race (director: Stephen Hopkins), which was a fine bio-pic about Jesse Owens which felt a bit confined at having to adapt his life into a traditional three-act structure; and there was Arrival (director: Denis Villeneuve), which I enjoyed as a compassionate science fiction film (although the only aspect I shared on this blog was a musing on artificial gravity).

Theatrical Films

I went to the cinema eight times in 2017; each time I had at least one person who went with me. Without company, I wouldn't have gone to see any of these films. Which is not to say they're bad, just that I don't enjoy being alone in the theater unless the film is as unusual as Shin Godzilla was the year before. In particular, I would definitely not have bothered with Kong: Skull Island (director: Jordan Vogt-Roberts) or Dunkirk (director: Christopher Nolan) but for friends who wanted to see them (the former because my friend lost a bet on the Oscars with another friend and had to see a non-Oscar-worthy film with him as punishment). Kong wasn't bad, certainly better than I expected given my feelings about Gareth Edwards' Godzilla. Dunkirk became more engaging to me as it went on and presented some well-crafted tension through its gimmicky non-linear storytelling.

My friends wanted to see most of the big super hero films so who was I to refuse them? I dug Logan (director: James Mangold) with its somber tone, although the climax didn't quite sit right with me given all which had come before; I laughed a lot at Thor: Ragnarok (director: Waika Waititi), although as a huge fan of Planet Hulk and the last stand of Skurge the Executioner I wasn't particularly enthused at the truncated versions the film employed; Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.2 (director: James Gunn) felt very thin to me - way too pleased with itself and far too glib, but had a few great emotional beats when not trying to undercut its own drama; Wonder Woman (director: Patty Jenkins) was the super hero triumph of the year, despite having a pretty same-ol-same-ol climax - I wrote my initial thoughts here.

I also went to see Hacksaw Ridge (director: Mel Gibson) at the cheap theater and I was impressed to see a Hollywood film endorse pacifism, given that usually Hollywood war films which touch on the subject are crafted to speak against it (ie, Sergeant York). And there was Star Wars: The Last Jedi (director: Rian Johnson) recently, which I'm not certain how I feel about. It had various decisions I enjoyed, namely establishing Rey as a person who came from nothing instead of yet another member of the space-elite, but the questions the film raises about whether people should sacrifice themselves to achieve a greater good seem way too introspective for the Star Wars franchise and totally against what every film - particularly the last one, Rogue One - believe in. In Star Wars, you always play the odds even if you lose.

Television

Being that I don't have a television subscriber, my only source of television programming is on Netflix. This past year they brought in my old favourite Mystery Science Theater 3000 with brand-new episodes, a series I had backed on Kickstarter. Although I enjoyed the new programs I found the production a little too mechanical, not quite organic enough - the riffing was near-constant and I actually didn't find that a plus - I wanted more time to appreciate the jokes, to let them land before the next one started. It's good enough.

Fortunately, Netflix also brought me the event of the year: Five Came Back, the documentary series based on the book I finished earlier in the year. I adored this series. Although it had less information than the book, the manner of presentation with the film clips makes it indispensable and the ways in which the five famous director-commentators reflected on each of the book's five directors brought up interesting parallels and insights into those men. I showed this series to one of my friends; my friend had an interest in World War 2, but not classic film. After the series was done he wanted to see films by each of the directors, so I showed him at least one my each director from my library.

About two months later my friend and I were meeting another guy for dinner before watching Dunkirk. The second friend asked, "What's the best movie you've seen this year?" I considered and chose Logan. My first friend? The Grapes of Wrath by John Ford, from our Five Came Back-related sessions. Now he's into the classics!

Tomorrow: Comics!

What is funny? (1,000th post!)

Do you like to laugh? Sure, we all do. When people discuss what makes them laugh the word "subjective" tends to appear, as though comedy were the most subjective of all forms of entertainment. We don't all agree on what is sad, frightening or thrilling either, but comedy is the whipping boy. Perhaps this is because if you don't believe that, say, a ghost story is scary you might still be entertained by it in some other way; but when comedy is not funny it is considered less than worthless.

I have come to realize I am a particularly prickly person where comedy is concerned. I like what I like; I don't put much effort into discovering new comedies, whereas I do place some effort into exploring new horror stories, adventure stories, etc. I have seen maybe 1.5 episodes of Saturday Night Live; I've never gone to a live comedy show; I haven't watched sitcoms for a decade; I very seldom watch comedy films in the cinema.

Recently I was browsing Netflix to find something to watch - I wanted something light and enjoyable, so I browsed through comedy. I couldn't find anything that I thought I would enjoy except for those shows I had seen before. That got me thinking: what about all the things I do like? What do they have in common? Come with me and we'll see.

Self-Deprecation

I've mentioned before that when I first became interested in old-time radio I listened for the science fiction/horror shows and skipped over the comedies, believing they would be old-fashioned and unfunny. And yet, I soon found one program which made me laugh: The Jack Benny Program. Jack Benny was a comic who knew his limitations - he couldn't master snappy patter. Thus, Jack's character was the schmuck instead of the wit; Jack's program constantly featured his supporting characters puncturing his ego, frequently to observe he was not as handsome, smart, funny or likeable as he believed himself to be - and I laughed because it seemed as though it were true and Jack deserved to be humiliated.

The wonderful, intangible part of Jack's routine was that his audience knew he was putting on an act, that "Jack Benny" was a false persona, yet he didn't break character (even Jack's ad-libs were very much on-point). I have found few other comedians so willing to put themselves down; to some extent, this is also what I enjoy about Robert Benchley's articles and short films; he would project an image of a dignified, urbane gentleman, but really he was another schmuck.

The Non Sequitur

How best to describe it... I like the snappy, witty remark, particularly when it is in stark contrast to the other party's statement ("the stooge"), and especially when it's surprising, totally unexpected; "non sequitur" seems to be the term which best describes it. I enjoy how authors such as P. G. Wodehouse & Damon Runyon would subvert genre expectations through clever dialogue and situations. I see this humour in my love for Groucho Marx's retorts:

This kind of humour tends to be heavily sarcastic or sardonic. The first party has come to play chess, but the second party arrives to play tennis - with a pogo stick - and demands the first party explain why he isn't similarly prepared. I was late in discovering Mystery Science Theater 3000, but its format of witty remarks and put-downs mixed with affectionate chiding truly spoke to me.

I've since come to learn, however, that one should not abuse their "witty" humour in public as it quickly becomes intolerable to friends. I've also learned how my idol Alfred Hitchcock used such remarks to disguise his own shyness; these remarks are basically a form of self-defense.

Satire

Over time I've learned I have low tolerance for the all-encompassing statement. I am the one who picks holes in every broad remark, noting the exceptions to each and every rule. I am similarly quick to note the cliches which infuse popular culture and when a masterpiece of satire appears - say, Stan Freberg, Cerebus, Monty Python, the Tick, Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker, Batton Lash - I nod in approval. The object being satirized need not be obvious; some of Bob & Ray's satire is best enjoyed when you are aware of their target (listen to at least one episode of Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy before listening to one of their "Jack Headstrong, the All-American American" skits) and yet, even in this instance, a parody of a children's science show which I'm not familiar with, I recognize they were satirizing a particular format and style of programming; the satire is specific in its target but broad in its humour:

I've never read a Nancy Drew book in my life, but Kate Beaton has had great fun writing her own comics based on the covers of Nancy Drew novels:

Edgar Wright is perhaps the best currently-working film satirist, mocking the sitcom (Spaced), zombie genre (Shaun of the Dead) and crime story (Hot Fuzz).

Returning to self-deprecation, some satirists would satirize themselves; witness Edgar Allan Poe and his connected stories "How to Write a Blackwood's Article" & "A Predicament," or Michael Kupperman sending up the entire genre of comics:

Self-deprecation works well with satire - however, I'm not confident that simply doing the opposite of the source material is sufficiently funny. "Dracula, but stupid" is not a solid basis for a film. Great satire digs deeper than the surface and exposes the tired tropes and cliches behind the entire genre; it's Poe making fun of morality tales in "Never Bet the Devil Your Head"; it's Stan Freberg making fun of lawn mower commercials while selling lawn mowers; it's Bob and Ray selling you a suit that will not only save you money, but make you money!

Laugh, won't you?

Stop Giving MST3K a Bad Name, You Hipsters!

A recent article at L.A. Weekly entitled "Stop Laughing at Old Movies You $@%&ing Hipsters" delved into the matter of how when film patrons make audible mockery of a film, they ruin the experience for others in the audience.

I have to admit, I felt somewhat convicted. I'm not an extraordinary offender, but when I'm seeing a film with the right group of people, I surrender my better judgment. It seems to happen most frequently with trailers; before seeing Signs, of the trailer for the film Death Ship I exclaimed: "The Shining II: Cruise Control!" I was rather proud of that one. I also found myself riffing various scenes in the Matrix Revolutions with my friends; independently of each other, we all began comparing a scene of human ship landing in a cavern to a similar scene in the Empire Strikes Back (and I've since learned many other people have made the same joke). In each of these instances I was probably seeking the approval of my companions because I never talk out when I'm at the cinema alone.

Have I ever been made to shut up? Yes. Last Christmas when I went to see The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies, my brother and I began quietly mocking the film's first five minutes until his wife told us to knock it off. I did store up many of my "witticisms" to share with the family afterward.

When theater patrons do talk loud enough to be heard by others I think it can positive, serving as a form of bonding with each other, especially when what's been said is what other people in the audience are thinking. I have one friend who tends to be very outspoken during trailers. I recall how we once saw a very dramatic trailer for a new Russell Crowe film; the closing audio of the trailer was the announcer intoning: "Russell Crowe - Cinderella Man." There followed brief lull while the next trailer began cuing up, wherein my friend exclaimed (his voice dripping with derision): "Yeah! Cinderella Man!" In the silence of the theater it was loud enough for everyone to hear and it won him some admiring laughter.

The funniest audience moment I observed was when the trailer for Devil played. At the moment M. Night Shyamalan's name appeared, the crowd audibly groaned, then laughed at each other for sharing the same reaction (this is another response seen in many other theaters to said trailer). I didn't groan aloud, but I felt the same way as the other patrons, being a former Shyamalan fan and now quite embarrassed about that fact. The derision Devil's trailer met with is undoubtedly closely related to how much we in the audience formerly admired Shyamalan.

Have I ever had my film-going experience ruined by the reactions of others? Yes, but I don't begrudge them. A couple of years ago I went to see a Halloween double feature of 1931's Dracula and Frankenstein, hosted by TCM. I noticed that many of the patrons (a small crowd to be sure) were younger than I, but hoped the introduction by TCM would help them understand the historical context of the films. However, while no one riffed the film, they did frequently burst into laughter - notably at the films' attempts to be frightening. Scenes in Dracula of Dwight Frye bulging his eyes and hyperventilating were met with giggles. The odd growl Boris Karloff used as the monster in Frankenstein was usually met with a snicker (he does sound a little like a snarling cat, to be honest).

I was most disappointed by the audience's reaction to the monster drowning the little girl, which was historically the most controversial/disturbing scene. And yet, upon reflection, I understood why the audience laughed - they were all experienced film watchers who have been educated to understand certain styles of film language and weren't accustomed to 1930s styles of either acting or editing. When the monster throws the girl into the lake, then sees her drown, he frets about the shore, moving back and forth, then finally runs away - end scene. To contemporary eyes, the scene is shot like a comedy blackout sketch, with the monster's stage left exit the crowning touch. I was disappointed, but heck, audiences back in 1931 were supposed to have been quite raucous as well and unwilling to seriously contemplate what was happening on the screen; why do we expect better from today's patrons? Because we pay so much more money to get in?

I've seen every episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. I have listened to many examples of Rifftrax. And yet, part of what I enjoy about MST3K is the grudging enjoyment the films granted the riffers. On some level, they appreciated the earnestness of a picture like Manos: the Hands of Fate and couldn't bring themselves to hate it. Unfortunately, all too often I find that attitude missing from Rifftrax - there, the riffers seem more willing to tear down a picture just because it's front of them. Hence, when I do purchase a Rifftrax, I avoid the films I genuinely enjoy (I won't even watch preview clips if I truly like the film).

MST3K and Rifftrax have, in some way, encouraged my bad behaviour in the cinemas. I've been conditioned to fit in a riff where there's a lull in dialogue, to voice my opinions of poor line reads/visual effects/editing/choreography. Alone at home, I almost never talk back to my movies; put me in a theater and I'll somehow dredge up the most obnoxious parts of my personality.

And that, I think, is the root of the problem in talking during a motion picture. It's one thing to feel the atmosphere of the room and say aloud what everyone's thinking - but when you're jealous of the film and would rather be the center of attention yourself, you're the problem - and in the moment, it's hard to tell the difference between the two. Tip: if you came to the theater alone then probably no one wants to hear your opinion of the film while it's playing.

RIP Peter Graves

"He learned almost too late that man is a feeling creature... and because of it, the greatest in the universe. He learned too late for himself that men have to find their own way, to make their own mistakes. There can't be any gift of perfection from outside ourselves. And when men seek such perfection... they find only death... fire... loss... disillusionment... the end of everything that's gone forward. Men have always sought an end to the toil and misery, but it can't be given, it has to be achieved. There is hope, but it has to come from inside, from Man himself."

He's still the only IMF leader in my world. He will be missed.

Merry Christmas, if that's okay