Today I am exploring a more unique commentary on a video titled, “Bored Ape Nazi Club” by Youtuber Philion. This video is quite unrelated to film; However, when I think of a videographic essay that achieves its goal, it stuck out to me for several reasons. The topic covered in this video is one that is extremely controvserial, which will require a great deal of convincing to get the viewer to believe Philion’s argument. This video makes it quite clear that it is a conspiracy theory video. Still, I feel the video effectively captures the audience’s attention, provides context, presents evidence, and enables the viewer to reach their own conclusion. The main issue I have with the video is the ending, which I would simply skip past, as I feel it almost ruins the video and the message of the video.

In fact, this video is so compelling that when you search it on Google, it does not come up. You have to go on the channel and search for the video to gain access to it. Whether or not you agree with the video, it does an exceptional job conveying its message and setting a creepy atmosphere. The video exists as somewhat of a “hear me out” video, which eventually does an extreme deep dive into a topic that most people, like myself, are quite unfamiliar with. In that sense, the author is essentially teaching us a language and getting up to speed with “Troll” culture to help us understand why this video has any credence at all. The author methodically takes us through these pieces of evidence, seamlessly cuts between pieces of information, and expertly assembles a video that can present information and invite the audience to come to their own unique conclusion. As I said, this video might be unrelated to film, but this video succeeds in making a compelling argument and gaining the attention of the audience.

Today I watched Tony Zhou’s “Martin Scorsese- The Art of Silence” which at first was about the way that Scorsese purposely uses his silence in his film to show a dynamic expression from his characters. However, the video essay turned to a broader idea of what exactly good sound design in cinema is. He argues that good uses of silence, silence derived from character beats, serve more that just a quiet moment in the film, and instead serves as a moment of pure emotional reaction. Zhou references Scorsese because Scorsese views silence as a numbing effect that “pulls the people out of the track” of the film and somewhat disorients the viewer, thus forcing a moment of reflection. Zhou states that Scorsese perfectly understands how the relationship sound can affect not only the narrative and emotional beats within a scene, but also how they can affect those home-run moments within a film.  

Since I’m working with silence in my final essay, I wanted to look at other essays that played with the topic. I think I’ve found a lot of inspiration from how I want to play with sound in my video. A great way he plays with sound is the way that he starts the video with a bang, an iconic song from one of Marty’s films, and then immediately says something along the lines of ‘ you know his use of music is great, but it’s his silence that’s the real kicker” and then immediately transitions to talking about silence in Raging bull with a very dramatic example. I think this manipulation with the audience’s expectations is something that I want to be a cornerstone in my final.

When people think of cinematic masters perhaps they think of the low hanging fruit like Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola or, as they are colloquially known, the “Movie Brats”. What all of these directors share is inspiration from another legend known as Akira Kurosawa. The impact of his legacy is can be attributed to his painstaking attention to aspects like blocking, shot composition, and wardrobe. For another less-experienced director, thinking of ways to tell a story as riveting as possible while also leaving enough energy to tell it precisely and consistently would prove a colossal undertaking. However, a maestro like Kurosawa never misses with each chance he gets. His signature masterful blocking gives the audience the ability to read the frame like a book. Overflowing with creativity, he introduces a multitude of layers into the mise en scene about each character and their dynamics with each other. He is such a virtuoso that he makes each shot look effortless.

Videos like this never fail to excite because they adapt so well to the source material they are about. Each point is reinforced by countless examples that catch the eye. The math behind his shots have effectively been broken down so that they become very simple. This appreciation for the simple shows us how masterful his creative decisions are and how well they work. It is admittedly easy to call anybody a genius, but after the word has been heavily used, this is one time that I would say that description is accurate. Just One more Thing finds the best aspects of Kurosawa as a director that make him what most people revere to ground the title “genius” with wonderful examples.

This video essay delves into the use of dreams in movies, exploring how characters often find themselves stuck in the monotony of their day-to-day lives, feeling misplaced or emotionally disconnected. These characters are in a kind of liminal space, caught between who they are and who they want to become. For them, escaping into a dream world seems like the only logical option, offering a utopian retreat from reality. These dream worlds are often depicted as idealistic, unrealistic landscapes that provide the comfort and excitement missing from their ordinary lives.

How we experience the dream often has to do with the state of the character we are following through it. Many times, movies will pair dreams with unreliable characters who suffer from schizophrenia, insomnia, or other mental health issues. This narrative device blurs the line between fact and fiction, making it difficult for both the audience and the characters to distinguish between what is real and what is imagined. By showing us the dream through the eyes of these unreliable narrators, the film forces us to question both the dream world and the reality they are trying to escape from.

From a videographic perspective, I love how the essay guides us through the different stages of the dream experience (utopia, surrealism, and dystopia) as if we are going through the dream sequence ourselves. The transitions between stages, combined with the atmospheric sound design and visual effects, make the analysis feel immersive, as though we are being led on a journey through the subconscious. This technique enhances the dreamlike quality of the video, creating an experience that is both informative and emotionally engaging.

When word got out that Quentin Tarantino was making a film about slavery, it sparked controversy. Given his reputation for stylized violence and dark humor, many questioned whether Django Unchained would handle such a sensitive subject with the seriousness it deserved. However, Tarantino approached the issue by crafting a revenge story that gave his protagonist, Django, the power to reclaim his freedom and seek justice, while addressing slavery through a unique lens.

Tarantino creates two protagonists—Django and Dr. King Schultz—who are essential to each other’s development. Schultz teaches Django to read, write, and think critically, shaping him into a more capable and independent figure. In return, Django influences Schultz’s moral growth, leading him to make a stand against the brutal institution of slavery. Their intertwined arcs make them both responsible for the other’s transformation, and without this connection, neither would experience the personal growth they achieve.

From a videographic perspective, I appreciated how the essay used interviews with Tarantino to highlight the controversy surrounding his movies. By incorporating Tarantino’s own words, the video essay adds context to his intentions and methods, giving viewers a more direct understanding of his approach to sensitive subjects like race and slavery. These interviews not only clarify his perspective but also show the tension between the filmmaker’s vision and public reception, which enriches the overall analysis.

I’m not sure if I simply stumbled upon this video one day or If I was searching for it while developing my short film last spring, but as soon as I started watching, I was immediately hooked. There are so many videos about the various processes in writing for a script. But LocalScriptMan and his videos attempt to succinctly and concisely teach valuable writing skills with his entertaining video essays.

The video tackles how in a script, every line of dialogue, every single action or inaction that your characters do, and every reaction that they have should be valued and treated with the utmost care. Every line has the potential to further thrust the story and narrative into something that can be considered works of art. He starts off the video explaining how information is conveyed to the audience through a scene, and how if it isn’t conveyed within the confines of a scene, then it isn’t conveyed at all. That being said. People aren’t robots, and within every scene, people are functioning with a filter. Their wants and desires drive the manner in which they behave, and so we need to examine that in order to accurately and properly depict a scene between characters. He also talks about a concept known as the alleyoop line, and how to avoid it, or place characters in interesting situations where them utilizing the alleyoop line benefits the whole scene.

If you’re interested in scene analysis, or breaking down a scene, LocalScriptMan does a really insightful breakdown of a moment in Arcane. Additionally, the video is really interesting for people that could be interested in psychology- as it allows people to move forward analyzing behavior on the basis of what they could desire, and how having that “filter” might influence themselves, or others.

I think the example of how to properly utilize the filters, alongside the visual example is what works incredibly well in this video. And I think that LocalScriptMan’s explanation and style of teaching is what makes this video worthy of highlight.

Today I watched the essay “Movie Titles: Why They Matter “ by Karsten Ranquist. Currently, I am working on a short screenplay for my screenwriting class, and one of the things I’ve been struggling with is a title that encapsulates the piece, so I thought I would see someone else’s opinion of what makes a good title. 

I learned a good bit about why those great movie titles work and why they are important . Essentially his argument came down to three points: 

• Titles are the first exposure your movie has to an audience.
• Titles often make the movie itself better by shaping the context in which the film operates.
• Titles are how people will refer to your movie for the rest of time. 

I think that Karsten made a number of good points that got me thinking about some of my favorite movies and how their titles shape the context of how I remember them. A good point Karsten made was when he said good titles pose questions that make us interested in answering them. I think that a lot of my favorite movies do this. For example Rashoumon is the name of the southern gate of the heian era, which is such an eclectic historical footnote that it sounds interesting to those who recognize its significance and those who don’t from the perspective of both Japanese and non-Japanese speakers.

As for form, I think it was interesting, but simple. It was a mixture of full-screening the media clips and using a blue, neutral background as a place where he could address the audience head-on and speak to us. He played with the physical text by manipulating font and size a wee bit to show the power of how we perceive text, but I think he could have taken this further by having the text choices interact more with the movies he was showing. I think this was a fine video essay, but it would be interesting to see a more structured version.  

Blockbusters, Money, and mainstream. These are common words associated with movies, especially Hollywood movies. Films like these are loud and can effortlessly demand the attention of any filmgoer. This ruckus can sometimes drown out the other kinds of movies literally and figuratively. Blockbuster movies boast the latest special effects, explosions, and A-list casts. News of the money being spent on these blockbusters attracts even more attention to these mainstream films. Underneath this bright and flashy glamour are films like Raise the Red Lantern and other films by Zhang Yimou. While mainstream movies are likely focused on bringing in profits, art house films concentrate more on the characters and the story. In these kinds of films, things like sound design can be acutely focused on. The thoughtful construction of the narrative through the use of things including sound design and set design allows the audience room to breathe and time to think. Special care was taken to ensure that the theme of suffocation was evoked through the set design as effectively as possible. The sound design is so simple that you can sometimes count the number of sounds you hear on one hand.

Since the film has a wealth of examples that this video essay has to draw from, his points are that much easier to understand. His calming voice over allows his analytical commentary to be comfortably situated between the creative strata of the film. His thoughts astutely and succinctly capture the essence of Raise the Red Lantern, leaving no questions to be asked by the audience, since it has been so thoroughly explained.

This video essay was about several different TV shows, all of which I hadn’t seen, which showcased different versions of excess. In particular, these were shows that didn’t emphasize narrative plot but rather an experience. By critiquing the dominance of plot-centered recaps, the essay highlights how visual experimentation in shows often rooted in art cinema challenges traditional modes of TV criticism. The project not only documents the prominence of stylistic exhibitionism but also provokes discussion about the need for critical approaches that address the complex formal elements shaping contemporary television.

I didn’t love this essay really. It’s way too long for the visual experimentation argument it makes, and the argument itself I found pretty weak and unconvincing. I suppose that the essay was also challenging the traditional mode of the videographic essay form, but I needed a traditional form to explain all these unconventional television elements, particularly in David Lynch’s work. I felt like it would have been better to focus on a single television show rather than four, or instead focus on dozens, and cut between them quickly. It made it difficult to care about any one section because of its structure. Ultimately, I did enjoy how it showed media in parallel, with four screens to look at sometimes. The slow-moving text was boring.

Get pranked, it’s another Miyazaki essay, I bet you never would have guessed.

I also know I’ve mentioned at least twice separate videos I want to create a response to, but believe me when I say this is going to be the one. I love every Ghibli movie (this is almost perfectly true) and while certainly some are better than others, each manages to convey such a specifc and unique feeling which captivates me every time. I knew early on in this course that eventually I would have to make a video essay on something Studio Ghibli. I wasn’t sure which I would choose (it’s Princess Mononoke), or even if I would ever publish it, perhaps keeping it just for my own enjoyment of these films, but something in them always hypnotizes.

Schnee finds it; I can’t pretend to know how. Or, at least, schnee describes it as close as I’ve ever heard it. This video is beautifully constructed – digressingly so. Every clip matches in some way to what he is saying. There was no frame where I couldn’t admire my attention being heathily managed. In some instances not only was the chosen clip extremely relevent, but the main action of the moment would punctuate the speaker’s words. This blew me away; the amount of time and care put into each brief sentence – every 5 seconds chunked with effort – spread out over a 40 minute timelines demonstrates a tenacity my few late and missing videos keep from me.

The text on screen was also perfect. It emphasized the narrator’s points without demanding much of the screen, and the selected words always satisfactorily aligned with the audio. In fact, the video was organized to such an effective point I realized only after I finished it I had wished to find a shorter, perhaps 10 minute essay to save myself a little time. The flow of the argument, the format of each section, the repetition throughout to the conclusion; it’s almost enough to make a young writing major cry.

Oh, I digressed. Funny.

Schnee finds so many of the ‘hidden’ secrets which make these films so attractive. And, while I someday hope to be able to do them justice (in like two weeks), I really can only recommend you watch the video: too many hits on proviberal battleships. I, after loving and watching these films since I was quite young, learned to think about them in an entirely, delightfully, new way. Give the 40 minutes a chance.