Month: September 2008

Are Twists Contrived Filmmaking?

I think it depends. If the director tricks by omission rather than careful placement of clues and suggestions, I might initially like a film, but it won’t stand the test of subsequent viewings.

Lavik’s article discusses The 6th Sense and other films famous for their plot twists and the way in which these twists alter directorial decisions in filmmaking and audience interaction over multiple viewings.

I’m not really looking forward to watching The 6th Sense tomorrow. It’s a really fantastic film the first and second time, but even though it’s probably Shyamalan’s best film (although I did really like the atmosphere in Lady in the Water), it’s still suffers the stigma of what is unfairly considered Shymalan’s only trick.

Shyamalan pitches a plan in an episode of South Park

Sure, I’ll make fun of him for being a 1-trick pony: everyone’s doing it, from South Park to Robot Chicken. And they’re sorta right: barring The 6th Sense, his twists really feel like they’re out of left field, even though the audience is already expecting them of him.

Lavik addresses why I’m not particularly amped to watch the film again. Subsequent viewings of the film affect the audience’s interaction with the film, changing it from emotional to technical. From personal experience, second and third viewings of this film segue focus on “How was I tricked?” rather than any sort of sympathetic or empathetic response…it really removes the emotional impact of every scene between Malcom and his wife, as all the scenes in which they “interact” are directorial artifice. I think the film really suffers upon multiple viewings in a way that Fight Club or other “twist” films do not. Perhaps Fight Club gives more clues throughout so that the end doesn’t come as such a shock, but I think it’s more related to what the twist entails. The twists in Fight Club or “Tabula Rasa” force the audience to reevaluate every interaction they just saw, but The 6th Sense asks audiences to believe none of the interactions happened—they were simply tricked, by editing, framing, and careful manipulation of syuzhet.

The audience falls into creating an incorrect fabula as a result, and even though we’re supposed to be getting a subjective representation of Malcom’s experience (and denial) and the supernatural nature of the film should key us into thinking trickery is an option, the “what-if’s” scream too loud for me to ignore.

“it’s only when we imagine all those inevitable situations that we aren’t allowed to witness that the fabula loses credibility.”

We’re not exactly given that many clues (there are some obvious and not-so-obvious ones), and the direction is extremely deceptive. I think The 6th Sense is an unbelievable movie the first time through, but when you break it down, I think the film really suffers from a detached and critical viewing of technique.

Alternatives to the Hollywood Model

Why follow conventions?

It’s a question that many of us struggle with anytime traditional narrative structure is brought up, with it’s 3-act structure and goal-oriented protagoniots.

but these questions also come to mind:

  • why deviate from what works? (are your motivations economic or artistic)
  • what causes this model to “work” (is it ground-up or top down?)
  • is this model just an arbitrary framework in which to place films? (aka “When you have a hammer…”)

I believe alternatives to the norm force the audience to engage the material in a very different manner and therefore demand some sort of intellectual investment/concentration, and I understand that a lot of people aren’t necessarily looking for that level of cognitive commitment in their entertainment. However, when creating/analyzing narratives, you have to walk before you can run, and the traditional 3-act structure with all its elements is as good a place as any to start. You have to know the norm before you defy it, should you choose to at all. The beginning, middle, and end of the three-act structure seems inherent in everything we engage in (be it relationships, life, or an event), and the existence of a goal-oriented protagonist and clear opposition creates entertaining tension and suspense. This seems to work for the majority of films, and if you’re looking at filmmaking from a economic perspective, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

In our readings concerning some alternatives to goal-driven protagonists, including ambivalent protagonists, passive protagonists, and shifting protagonists, we are told that these exceptions usually lead to less-traditional drama, which in turn leads to different modes of storytelling. Passive characters avoid problems and retreat from opposition; therefore, the story becomes more focused on situation than character and action.

I agree that ubiquitous character growth is pretty contrived, but fundamental drama is caused by conflict and opposing forces…without a strong goal-oriented protagonist, the story seems stagnant and sometimes melancholy…sort of how real life can feel sometimes. Characters with repressed emotions, ambivalent feelings, and passive coping strategies like those outlined in the reading feel more real than the melodramatic cookie-cutter performances that audiences have come to expect.

Character

Everyone seems to agree that character in film is considerably different that character in literature. The visual nature of the medium affords the audience opportunity to make assumptions based on a character’s look and motion alone, and this is an important difference from character description and development in literature. We see minutia in appearance and demeanor that is difficult to convey with words. When you talk about typical Hollywood typecast characters (such as Harrison Ford, Bruce Willis, or Julia Roberts) or the personal history of actors (such as Robert Downey Jr.), it’s important to remember that as an observer, both in film and real life, we attempt to categorize and organize based upon appearance. This might stating the obvious or taking the argument to a logical extreme, but the assumptions and shortcuts we make when assessing a person’s character from appearance is a finely honed cognitive heuristic that we all use daily. Novice film viewers can partake in this action, organizing a character within their own existing categorical schema, placing the character in an archetype for easy consumption.

Brett talks about the importance of an actor’s biographical history in terms of audience’s knowledge of the real-life person, especially in the case of Robert Downey Junior. First off, I loved Iron Man. I thought that it worked as a better summer blockbuster than The Dark Knight and was a refreshing superhero flick that deviated from the established norm of the past few years.

The characters in the film were larger-than-life archetypes…they felt real to me not because of dialogue or action (for they’re singular and comic-booky in motivation and action), but because of performance. Besides Robert Downey Jr.’s stellar performance in playing himself, Gwyneth Paltrow and Terrence Howard present equally impressive and compelling performances. They just really seem to be having fun.

I felt similarly engaged and charmed by the actors in Simple Men. By keeping the archetypes simple, we see ourselves and people we know in the characters on the screen. Certainly, they feel caricaturish at times, and their performances can often come across as presentational, but we can overlook massive coincidences and theatrical performances if the character looks and feels authentic. I like the idea of Haynes attempting to depict “the awkwardness of real speech” in Safe rather than using traditional Hollywood dialogue. Awkwardness, silence, and being at a loss for words are all parts of the human experience. Sure, the performances in Simple Men is versed and theatric, but the way the characters hold themselves was attractive to me. I loved trying to get a feel for what the director wanted to say about what it means to be a man, love, and various other themes based on his hilarious characters, and I especially liked trying to formulate an image of the father by combining the personalities and looks of his sons.