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.

This video really surprised me!

After much delay, I realized I will eventually watch every video essay about Princess Mononoke (make a few, too), so I may as well get started. I was first interested in the angle of analysis Ethan chose, as while I’ll comfortable apply my own philosophy to the film, I haven’t taken much time to consider enough alternatives. Garstka weaves us through several classic perspectives derived from various philosophical spheres. I could never claim to have a thorough understanding of any established philosophy, but Ethan did a fantastic job of quickly summarizing arguments as he was applying them to Princess Mononoke. This sort of double explanation helped capture attention despite relying almost solely on photos. I found this really interesting; is this still a video essay?- it’s basically a well timed slideshow, but what’s the difference?

And yet, I still found myself liking it. I found the arguments well thought out and the video helped me question elements I hadn’t considered before, like the significance of Gods being killed by mortals- being susceptible to corruption. At every section Ethan successfully introduced a unique reading of Princess Mononoke which either expanded on the previous topic or pivoted to a adjacent point. I think I might do a response to this video for the final, as I love the film and I’d like to interact with this video more.

I felt that I should at least attempt to watch some video essays not about anime or something else vaguely Japanese related, so here we go.

This video is almost unbelievably well put together. The incorporation of several techniques we’ve discussed in class – such as a genuine voice over, purposeful on screen text, multiscreen, and interesting mix of sound – made this video engaging and a delight to watch. The premise of the video is an analysis of the one shot you see in the thumbnail. The speaker begins by placing extreme personal significance on this scene before working backwards to highlight each aspect that made this sequence so powerful.

In order to further ground the viewers, the speaker offers a quick summary of the last few moments of the film. Despite having seen the movie a good two or three times (that’s, what, over 10 hours spent viewing?) the way daaane breaks down the sequence is both aesthetically pleasing and helps to reveal missed details. The visual of dividing the scene into nine significant parts really blew me away, and I could only think of how long it took to keyframe the position and scale of each one – the way the images collapse into one another is such a good touch.

The light almost ‘floaty’ music playing in the background provides an interesting texture to the video, ensuring that there are hardly moments of silence other than where the author wanted them. The exact sound of the music also mirrors the ‘lighter than air’ feeling of the scene with the floating Harkonnen. The voice over also felt truly genuine in the speaker’s speech patterns and pauses. More than all of this, however, there was a simple pleasure in enjoying things that just look good. Many small edits were made to emphasize points or areas on the screen, and it’s easy to tell how much work went into this 10 minute video. I was and am very impressed.

This is the second video by this creator I’ve watched, the first one being the subject of a previous video commentary of mine titled “Understanding Perfect Blue | Finding Truth in Fantasy”. This video helped me get a better sense of Ulixes style, which is strong in some parts and weak in others. His greatest strength is, in my opinion, his ability to write a damn good analysis with neat organization, multiple connections both within and outside the medium, and maintain a clear link between what’s on screen and what’s being said. But, as our lovely professor has reminded us time and time again, video essays are not just spoken analysis, but performed analysis. While I find his writing skills enviable, I think even I could read his scripts with a little more animation.

With that in mind, however, it’s important to consider that the world of video essays lies ultimately within a long range of tones, focuses, and performances, and that while I might not be Ulixes’ direct audience, I can still appreciate the thoroughness with which he examines his subject. I have long been interested in watching Akira, although, ironically, it was this video that made me realize I might not enjoy it. Bear with me on why that’s a good thing. Ulixes’ extensive and clear narration proved so effective I feel as if I understand many of the main themes spinning throughout. It just so unfortunately happens those elements don’t interest me. It takes a far more complex analysis to keep an audience engaged during something that normally doesn’t catch their attention.

While this video essay is from a practically unknown channel and hasn’t gotten much traction since its publication, there was much I learned, namely: anyone can make a video essay. That and diction and cadence are essential elements of the medium, and this frankly isn’t exactly the best example of an engaging speech pattern.

A well executed breaking of the fourth wall is one of my favorite twists a film can throw at me; as an audience member, I am often caught off guard and surprised by the director’s boldness. This video by the channel ‘Now You See It’ explains some of the background of this technique (its origin in ancient Grecian plays and evolution alongside film advancements) and endeavors to highlight many of the potential pay-offs of acknowledging the audience. Almost always the first instance of the break is met with surprise, although simple surprise isn’t what makes a fourth wall break good. This video walks us through several of the effects this technique could have, such as enhancing comedy, as an intriguing satire, to increase the degree of intimacy between the actors and audience, and to use that intimacy to inspire greater fear.

The best fourth wall breaks aren’t simply a technique used for their notoriety and shock factor – it’s when that surprise is combined with an already well crafted joke the scene is elevated. The narrator here edits together examples of clips which (in his opinion) fail in this combination before also providing successful examples, embracing one of the strengths of video essays: direct and immediate comparison. Another interesting element this video examines is the strong link to satire a good fourth wall break might have. In breaking this wall between the audience and what they’re seeing on screen, the film is able to acknowledge and point out other traditionally accepted aspects of filmmaking, aspects that become obviously ridiculous when we stop suspending our disbelief. 

While most often fourth wall breaks are cited as a technique that interrupts and distances the audience from the film, Now You See It also argues that in some instances the opposite effect is achieved. An actor on screen making light hearted jokes directly to the audience creates a unique relationship between the two which is otherwise impossible to create. It can serve to reflect the general tone of the film or introduce a new note to the symphony. In addition, this connection can be twisted to remove the ‘safety net’ between a frightening character on screen and the viewer; in a moment the distance between the two is collapsed and an imaginative audience member might begin to question if they’re really as safe from this villain as they thought. 

This video helped reinforce the lesson that not all video essays must be exhaustively academic, and in fact the most engaging and accessible ones employ humor expertly to lure the audience in while sneakily teaching them something.

This short video essay published in 2015 by well known critic channel “Every Frame a Painting” employs the sound of a high tempo jazz band as an initial hook leading into this piece about movement. The fast licks from the trumpet and saxophone mixed with the rapidly consistent hi-hat sets a tone of movement and energy from the very moment you click on the video. The speaker then begins with a classic yet informal writing hook: a question. In the following montage where the speaker gives a few sample answers to “What’s the first thing you look for when judging a shot?” – balance, lines, color, light, shapes?Twinned with this opening monologue are shots exemplifying each specific aspect mentioned, followed by the author asserting his favorite element to look out for: movement.

Throughout the remaining few minutes of the piece the speaker highlights several different forms of movement Kurosawa likes to feature, such as the movement of the background (weather, crowds, fire), movement of groups or individuals, camera movement, and cuts on motion. Paired with each spoken example is a clip displaying exactly what the narrator is referencing, easily tying the audio and visual components together in the mind of the audience. I learned quite a lot regarding the potential complexities of movement available to the filmmaker and how “flat” a scene might feel without them (sorry Avengers (not really)). The speaker’s informal yet knowledgeable tone also drew me into the video, especially when combined with the fast paced background music and interspersed audio from the films he was reviewing.