Taxi Driver

The flesh and the mind - Robert de Niro's iconic portrayal of Travis Bickle in 'Taxi Driver' (1976).

Taxi Driver - 40th Anniversary

40 years later, 'Taxi Driver' is still talking to you.

Have you ever been in a state of loneliness? No, I am not challenging the fact that you have 2500 friends on Facebook or have 850 likes for an Instagram photo. The question is – have you ever experienced any existential dread, and the desperation of desiring others’ company, companionship and respect? Do you have the faith that, a fictional disturbed man’s story can shed light and give insights on these potential existential crises we may well experience in our lives? If your answer is ‘yes’, you are invited to this final article in 2016. This time, I will talk about one of the most iconic American film in the 1970s, which is celebrating its 40^th anniversary this year – Martin Scorsese’s ‘Taxi Driver’ (1976)!

Scorsese’s masterpiece has such an impact that its influences can be seen in many subsequent films and other facets of our culture. A film that has inspired imitations, parodies, and spoofs, ‘Taxi Driver’ contained memorable and poetic cinematic images, that have made the urban experience and alienation as thrilling as any expressionistic attempts to portray it. It was critically very well received at the year of its release, and achieved 4 Academy Award nominations (including Best Picture and Best Actor in a Leading Role for Robert de Niro), and was recognized by the National Film Registry, AFI, BFI and various institutes and magazines. Aside from the large number of movies that has paid homage or spoofed the ‘Are you talking to me’ mantra, ‘Taxi Driver’ has inspired ‘Fight Club’, ‘Reservoir Dogs’, ‘Pulp Fiction’ (and other Tarantino movies), ‘Nightcrawler’ and ‘Mr. Robot’, to name a few iconic examples. Travis Bickle’s dark tale of malevolence still lingers in the psyche of cinematic art.

Robert de Niro has portrayed Travis Bickle, likely the character he will always be remembered for, and his first-rate performance and memorable quotes (like the classic ‘... u talkin’ to me?’) have struck resonance with audience from different generations ever since. Though Travis was supposed to be a psychopathic character, audience seemed to identify with him a lot, leading to the popularity of the film. The reason is because, while many of us may not be as psychopathic as a character like Travis, we do share a lot of problems he has experienced in the film – loneliness, emptiness of life, desperation for love and companionship, and self-actualization in a harsh world. Travis Bickle is the mirror Martin Scorsese and Paul Schrader have offered to the audience – to expose our dark sides, and the aspects we do not have the courage to confront. In the ultimate ‘... u talking to me’ scene, the scene is framed in a way that Travis, while apparently looking into a mirror, appears like he is facing the audience. Yes, Travis is talking to YOU – while the intention for him is to train on his cowboy stance, it reflects more of a desperation for him to connect with others, and indeed, the world he situates in. His loneliness penetrates the inner loneliness of the audience. By confronting the image of Travis Bickle, we have an opportunity to confront the darkest corners of our minds. 

The approach is let this work is through a forced perspective, which is an approach Kubrick has also employed in ‘A Clockwork Orange’. For both films, the filmmakers deliberately let the audience to view the world through an unsympathetic (or negative) character, and their sometimes twisted and distorted viewpoints will not only raise the awe of the audience (‘I have never thought about this...’), and may even inspire new and original viewpoints from the audience. The subjective and active participation is absolutely beneficial because now the members in the audience are not just passively receiving ‘facts’ that the filmmakers want you to hear, but they are challenging the assumptions that are often believed or postulated to be correct. Only through these activities, novel cinematic ideas can emerge and enrich the contribution of film to humanity.

‘Taxi Driver’ stands a special place in my cinematic oeuvre. Not only it has always been one of my favorite films of all time, it is certainly the film I have watched the most times in my life, perhaps more than that of ‘The Terminator’ series. I believe I have watched the film no less than 100 times, since I first watched the film around the age of 15. To put it simply, I have developed an obsession to this film. What I am so impressed about ‘Taxi Driver’ is that, every scene, every frame, the rhythm and the images, have a meaning for the film. Scorsese has so deliberately staged and put in mise-en-scene in a detailed and clever way that it makes Travis’ odyssey in this nightmarish world so authentic and memorable. As a viewer, when you are engaged with Travis’ journey in the cab, you are fascinated by what you can see around the dirty world, and yet sense the danger and the ticking of the bomb – the eruption of violence that can take place any time.

Throughout ‘Taxi Driver’, we can see Travis Bickle’s mental deterioration, and his futile attempts to connect with those he wants to love or be friends with. His epic loneliness has led him to form distorted ideas regarding the ones around him, and he seems to only see the dark and negative sides from everyone around him (which, unfortunately, is not too far from the truth in a realistic world). When he discovered the clean spirit in Jodie Foster’s role as a young prostitute, he saw himself as a savior to the young girl, from the pimp (played by Harvey Keitel) who only exploited her for profit. This is obviously a clear inspiration from John Ford’s ‘The Searchers’, and to a lesser extent, George Stevens’ ‘Shane’ – thus ‘Taxi Driver’ has been coined as ‘The Searchers of 1970s’. Like John Wayne’s Ethan Edwards in ‘The Searchers’, Travis is a man of enigma. We have absolutely no idea whether Travis is really a Vietnam War Veteran – thus is qualified as a PTSD scenario, or that is just his delusional imaginations, to step into a role that can at least make his existence a bit more meaningful. It is like Ethan Edwards, who has hidden secrets and dishonesty he is not willing to expose (‘Where have you been all these years after the War?’). Both men are motivated by a false sense of heroism, but in their conflicted minds, they are consumed by the demons inherent in the male psyche. Travis Bickle is the descendant of Ethan Edwards – the cinematic male who is driven by paranoia, obsessions, and desires. To this, Anthony Mann’s influence is also evident in ‘Taxi Driver’, as in a number of Scorsese films.

Some commentators have suggested that the taxi cab represents Travis’ inner psyche. That is an insightful observation, yet I can also see ambivalence. The cab is certainly Travis’ comfort zone, that is a place where he can exert minimal interactions with other people, not like on the streets or in a cafeteria, for example. Yet, it is also a place beyond his obsessive control, because crises and problems can enter in the most unexpected manner. Indeed, the narrative is taken on the way by what has been happening in the cab – the introduction of Iris (Jodie Foster), the meeting with the politician he will attempt to assassinate, and the crazy passenger (played by Mr. Scorsese) who gives an monologue about the power of Magnum .44. The taxi cab is where Travis nurtures his conflicted feelings and dark inspirations of malevolence, which, when he steps out of his cab to the daylight, he will put into action. When Scorsese’s cameo character was discussing the possibility of blowing his unfaithful wife out with a Magnum .44, the next day when Travis met a travelling salesman, the first question he asked was, ‘u got a Magnum .44?’

The cab also provides a vehicle for voyeurism (a Hitchcockian motif), a visual pleasure of spying and observing others. It is what Travis does when he stalks on women like Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) and Iris, and when Betsy rejects him, he laments that women are all bad and much like a ‘union’. The idea of voyeurism comes hand in hand with the psychosexual aspects of humanity. A darkly comic, yet quite sad at the same time, moment is when Travis has his first date with Betsy, he is so inept at social customs that he takes her to watch a pornographic movie, leading to Betsy’s rejection. I have read a tongue-in-cheek comment on the internet regarding this scene, stating that, if Travis has taken Betsy to watch ‘All The President’s Men’ (another 1976 film) instead of the porn movie, he would have a better chance. What is so clever about this comment is that it hits the spot on the battle of our conscious and unconscious drives in our minds. In our conscious mind, we view men as brave, courageous, resourceful and honest, just like the heroes in ‘All The President’s Men’, whistle-blowing the Watergate Scandal. But, as Freud has insightfully observed, our irrational unconscious mind is down to illogical, malevolent ideas driven by ideas and blind impulses. That is the area where the pornographic movie will be welcomed instead. It sounds horrible, yet it is an honest observation. Travis does not gate-keep his unconscious desires, and just let his unconscious drives roaming around the apparently civilized, yet dirty streets of modernity.

Travis Bickle lives a circumstantial existence in ‘Taxi Driver’. When the rain that he hopes will be able to clean up the streets does not arrive, he commits to be the martyr instead. After a rather pathetic attempt to assassinate a political candidate, he diverts his focus and attempts to save Iris from the pimps instead. The violent massacre that ensues leads to the gruesome death of the pimps and the customers at the brothel. On the brink of death, Travis attempts suicide. While running out of bullets, he points a finger-gun on himself, very much like a hara-kiri of the Samurai, as pointed out by Schrader. Miraculously, Travis survives and becomes a national hero. While it is ambiguous whether it is only a dying imagination or not, Scorsese tends to favor that Travis has lived, because that makes the meaning of the story deeper. If Travis is successful in the assassination, he will become another Lee Harvey Oswald, a violent psychopath despised by the generations to come, rather than a crime buster he is lauded as. The only thing that is common is the violence. Like ‘A Clockwork Orange’, violence cannot be eliminated – it is only the form of the violence exerted, and the circumstances in which the violence is exerted, have changed. Yet that will lead to 2 completely opposite perceptions, swinging from a despicable villain to a courageous hero. At the end of the day, Travis has not been cured. Even if he has his ‘John Wayne moment’, and has garnered understanding from Betsy, his anger and violence still has not left him. The famous last shot from the rear view mirror suggests vigilance and curiously, anxiety. Travis is alarmed, and this ticking bomb in a human form will soon explode again...

If, after watching ‘Taxi Driver’, you share a similar belief with Travis that you want to take the world and flush it down a toilet, don’t despair. Because if we are not aware of the problems in our own world, how can that lead us to a better future?

See you in 2017!

by Ed Law

31/12/2016

Film Analysis - 71

A Clockwork Orange

Can we really attain true freedom, or is it all a dream or a slogan that makes our waking existences a bit easier to endure? While we are in awe of the progress humanity has achieved throughout history, have we really stepped out of the dark shadow of our violent and impulsive nature? Can conditioning really change and correct our flaws, and lead us to a brave new world? Should we be proud of our civilized status as compared to other species below us on the evolutionary ladder, or are we merely some institutionalized beasts? Can Eros and Thanatos, the two battling drives inherent in all of us, be reconciled in an amoral and hopeless world? These are all provocative questions, and they are the key concerns of Stanley Kubrick’s iconic masterpiece – ‘A Clockwork Orange’ (1971), which is celebrating its 45th anniversary this year. 

It takes me tremendous courage to write about and defend ‘A Clockwork Orange’, as it is likely the most controversial movie I have ever talked about in my film blog. Be warned, ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is a very disturbing movie, and the violence and sex content in this film is intense even by today’s standard. Some of the scenes are really sickening for a mainstream cinema even for today, and the film will inevitably upset some members of the audience. Using kinetic visuals, stunning cinematic imageries and ingenious applications of classical music, very much like ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’, Kubrick turned the table on objective morality, organized religion, psychiatry, institutionalized violence, political machines, and most of all, humanism. The film continues to challenge our received ideas about humanity, and inspires us to question the beliefs that are fed to us through various institutions. The anti-humanist perspective of the film has led, or misled, its detractors to call it immoral, misanthropic, sadistic, fascist, mean, and many more ugly labels. While ‘A Clockwork Orange’ was commercially successful and was recognized by 4 Academy Award Nominations, including Best Picture, Director and Screenplay, Kubrick was disturbed by the impact his masterpiece has caused for humanity. He eventually withdrew the film’s circulation in UK until his death, and it was reported that he did not allow anyone to mention the film at home. In Nietzsche’s word, by making ‘A Clockwork Orange’, Kubrick has unleashed a monster, yet it is a proud one. If it roams the world with pride, that is because ‘A Clockwork Orange’ has hit the spot regarding our psyches’ darkest territories.

If you wonder why I have to talk about such a violent X-rated movie, please give some thought on this issue. There are many more violent and sexually oriented movies that are more outrageous than ‘A Clockwok Orange’, yet how many of those films can stand the test of time like this piece of queer fruit? For a film that has inspired Taxi Driver, Fight Club, American History X, Minority Report, The Dark Knight, There Will Be Blood, Mr. Robot, Lady Gaga and many more cultural aspects of our modern life, and given that young people still considers to dress up like Alex DeLarge and his droogs in Halloween parties, you can feel ‘A Clockwork Orange’’s long lasting legacy.

When I first watched ‘A Clockwork Orange’ at the age of 15, what I immediately discovered was a cinema of possibilities. Kubrick has convinced me that, in cinema, you can do anything to make your point, and we have the brave and daring 1970s. The next thing I knew, the film became an instant favorite and it has remained my Top 10 to these days. Over the years, I have asked more and more questions about the film, and my viewpoints on the meaning of the film have altered all the time. This should not be surprising because a Kubrick film is so layered with meanings that it will engage you in an active thinking process long after you have watched the film. At first, I saw ‘A Clockwork Orange’ as an anti-establishment exercise on the potential of authoritarian control, pointing the ultimate evil to be the government who wished to control the civilizations, be it a violent psychopath or not. Soon after, I started to understand the film as a tug of war between the different forces in our minds – the irrational, unconscious impulses versus the conscious mind, which can potentially be conditioned or manipulated to ‘get the correct answer’. When I understand even more about life, I start to have a deeper perspective about the meaning of the film. I feel that Kubrick seems to be questioning whether we have the conditions to attain true freedom at all. No matter how dark or perverse it may seem, Alex De Large’s experience is the human experience, and humanity, to put it provocatively, is a clockwork orange.

Why would I propose such a provocative analogy? Certainly, the development of our conscious minds, as compared to the other organisms, have allowed us a lot of progress and achievement, and the inception of ‘great’ ideas like civility, compassion, liberty and freedom throughout history. Yet, while we may possess the will and cognitive power to envision freedom, we certainly cannot do whatever we want, as there are so many limits that prevent us from doing so. Our biological designs have limited us to do whatever we want, and for Kubrick, our corporeal (bodily) existence is just as important as our spiritual, cognitive activities in our minds. For a number of his films, especially in ‘A Clockwork Orange’ and ‘Barry Lyndon’, Kubrick has addressed corporeality as an important determinant that can limit the characters’ advances and their exploits through the narrative. While we are organic on the outside, our bodies are driven by biological mechanisms that are governed by naturalistic laws. Thus, no matter how wild our imaginations may be, we are still seen as mechanistic, and hence ‘clockwork orange’ is not at all a terrible analogy. Furthermore, the advancement of empirical psychology suggests that we can take a mechanistic (and often materialistic) approach to understand our minds, and an approach, which is used rather inappropriately in the film, is that of conditioning, in order to modify behavior and hence improve society’s well being, at least as advertised in this way.

However, there is another limit that has exerted its power on many aspects of human experience – that of institution. This is a prevalent theme present in all the Kubrick films after 1964, and it comes hand-in-hand with the anti-humanist perspective he has insisted on all these films. Kubrick’s anti-humanist stance shows us that, many of the issues we are taught to be ‘bad things’ – such as violence, sex, war and desire – should not be seen as flaws of human nature, rather they are pat of our true nature. The reason why these things are believed to be bad is because the various institutions, while attempting to guarantee a civilized culture, embrace humanism as a primary assumption. By assuming that we are inherently good, for example, the above issues will become deviations from a perfect human being, and thus motivates means (which the true intentions may really be serving self-interest for powerful individuals) to correct and control these errors. While some form of self-control – such as repression in a Freudian sense -  can lessen the potential harm these activities can cause to other, too often humanity may not to be able to come to terms with these issues. Thus, civilizations develop a solution to deal with these bottlenecks – by making sense of these activities, through institutionalization, for example. If you have read Nietzsche, you will be aware that this also happens to many other aspects, like organized religion or even some fields of philosophy. That is the reason why some people cannot really agree to this Kubrickian view, because they choose rather not to believe human being is just a form of advanced beast, is often motivated by animalistic impulses, and also not willing to confront our dark sides. That is why I have once said ‘A Clockwork Orange’ and ‘Barry Lyndon’ are the most Kubrickian films, because they embody the above viewpoints – or mechanisms – of humanity.

The Kubrickian viewpoint shows us that, violence is inherent in humanity. That is an ugly fact, yet we cannot ignore or undermine it. Kubrick believed that, while we cannot eliminate violence at this stage of humanity, it still has to be manifested some how, through controlled or institutionalized violence – thus, a more ‘civilized’ way to settle the score and resolve conflicts. In every Kubrick film, there is always an ongoing war - it is not the war between the Good and the Bad. It is the war between humanity’s dark sides and the institutions or systems that try to control them. Even if this is a hopeless situation, we can at least have a better understanding our true nature, and this will hopefully inspire some innovative changes from our descendants one day.

Thus, objective morality does not work for ‘A Clockwork Orange’. If we only question Alex DeLarge’s morality and try to correlate those factors to his misfortunes in the film, it will not do the film any justice, because it is not Kubrick’s intention. An analysis on Alex’s psychological motivation (such as the clichéd reason like he was traumatized or abused at a young age) was also inadequate. For films like ‘A Clockwork Orange’, ‘Barry Lyndon’ and ‘Taxi Driver’, if we are to understand the protagonists’ – Alex, Barry and Travis respectively – downfall by placing blame on their flawed personalities, we should just place as much blame on the environment they find themselves in. It is the environment which shapes these characters, and potentially dehumanizes or even destructs them.

‘A Clockwork Orange’ is a cinematic nightmare that is worth experiencing. The charismatic Alex de Large, leading his gang of droogs, commit violent sprees that will raise awe even by today’s audience. They are really asserting their utmost freedom and exerting their violent impulse onto the various victims - which should remind us of Moon Watcher in ‘2001’ with all the beating and spanking. When Alex was betrayed after the murder of a woman, he was sent to prison, and the era of institutionalized violence commenced. He has not really changed – because while he claimed he has read the Bible, he just enjoyed the part concerning sex, torture and violence. Then, seeing an opportunity to shorten his jail time, Alex volunteered to join the conditioning (or in a sense, brainwashing) programme, the Ludovico experiment, so that he would be programmed and conditioned to become a good citizen. When Alex was out of jail, he basically met every single victim of his misdeeds in the past, and they exacted revenge of all forms on Alex, culminating in his attempted suicide. When he survived the fall, the politicians decided that the suicide scenario has attracted bad press for the Ludovico technique, and thus Alex was de-programmed to his original status, and the minister closed a deal with him, where Alex would endorse for the government policy in exchange for a great future job. Alex was cured, and back to his psychopathic, violent state.

In Kubrick’s vision, we cannot find much optimism in ‘A Clockwork Orange’. There are almost no good guys in the film, they are either violent by default, controlled by institutions, driven by rage and blind impulses, or just plain docile and sterile. A scene that has particularly impacted me is the one when Alex re-united with his old ‘droogs’, who has now become cops. They decide to handcuff and invite Alex to a private spanking session, in order to exact revenge on Alex’s past maltreatment to them. With a tracking shot, the audience saw the 3 characters walking on their back towards a sunlit environment. I felt the scene to be particularly ironic because, rather than leading to insights or any form of illuminations, this only led to another bout of violence. In contrast, when Alex and the droogs were driving the speeding car and causing havoc on the road during the night, that was the point when one could sense Alex’s gratification – when he was inspired by his violent impulses.

The ending is unsettling not merely because Alex has changed back to his old self, meaning that he would cause more harm for humanity; it is the fact that true freedom can ultimately not be attained. Power has only been transferred from one political opportunist to another. Alex’s freedom was only granted for a circumstantial reason, not through advancement in human reason or capacity for compassion, but through the cold calculation that setting Alex free would benefit the politician involved in the propaganda. Alex’s happiness was only achieved because the political plot coincidentally matched his darkest desires. So, we will never know his smile was happiness for apparent freedom, or he was too clever to look beyond the surface and saw this deal as the best compromise in such a hopeless universe. If you say Alex is de-programmed, then it may sound even  more appropriate that the political machine which controls everyone in the society, has altered its program through the shifting and transference of power.

The nightmare for control has not ended - it has just transformed to another form, and will be fueled by the eternal flame of humanity’s strange love with violence.

by Ed Law

30/12/2016

Film Analysis - 70

Spinoza, Part 2

Man in the Universe - a scene from 'Barry Lyndon' (1975).

How can we understand our mind through Spinoza’s teaching? Through his metaphysical speculations, Spinoza went further to provide a mechanistic explanation of the human mind. He believed that when humans behaved rationally, the mind was a self-directed mechanism, because the motivation of humanity was self-preservation. Thus, that is what we mean by ‘selfish’ in the context of Spinoza’s philosophical ideas (not quite like ‘greedy’). The word Spinoza has used was ‘conatus’, also important in British philosopher Thomas Hobbes’ philosophy. Conatus can be defined as the innate inclination of a thing to continue to exist and enhance itself. In the third section of Ethics, Proposition 6, ‘Each thing, as far as it lies in itself, strives to persevere in its being.’ So, Spinoza believed that the ‘will to continue’ is something inside all of us, and it is a force of Nature to strive and go forward, rather than to perish as ashes.

What makes up our mind are that of ideas, and due to the chains of causes and effects, these ideas will be connected as a coherent system, and the result is a mental mechanism present in our mind. The net result of the action of this mental mechanism leads to consciousness. Thus, when we are rational, we are like ‘spiritual automatons’, who work in a mechanistic manner and yet have consciousness, rather than like philosophical zombies or robots. This is Spinoza’s unique take on psychology.

A particular important view regarding the philosophy of mind is Spinoza’s monism. In Ethics, Spinoza did address the ‘Mind-Body Problem’, almost a holy grail for generations of thinkers. While his predecessor, Descartes, took a dualistic view on the mind and body problem, stating that they were two separate substances in the world; Spinoza’s view is known as ‘parallelism’. That suggests mind and body are one and the same thing, and there is no point to separate them or to argue which one is truer than the other one. Spinoza believed that the action of the mind was at the same time with the action of the body – thus parallel in a sense, and so the modes of mind are isomorphic to modes of body.

I have read a nice analogy regarding this mind-body issue in another book, ‘Understanding Rationalism’. In that, the author compares Spinoza’s monism to the development of algebraic geometry. When you have, for example, the equation of a straight line y = mx + c, it has a corresponding graph on the Cartesian plane. The equation and the graph both represent the same thing, so they are one and the same. There is no point to ask whether the graph is realer – in a metaphysical sense – than the equation or vice versa. You can say the equation lives in an algebraic world, and the graph lives in a geometric world, like two parallel universes. Yet the key point is, they are identical to each other. Indeed, it is rather ironic that Descartes, which is coined as the father of modern analytic geometry, has not been able to connect with this rather interesting analogy and instead has proposed a Dualism in the mind-body problem.

Spinoza has illustrated to the readers the real face of the universe. Now, how can one live well in this apparently indifferent universe? Spinoza’s project is to release us from the imprisonments of false assumptions and mis-conceptions, because these are the obstacles that will prevent us from living a more fulfilling life. The ultimate aim of the Spinozistic way is to achieve the intellectual love from God, meaning that one develops a better understanding of oneself and the relation to Nature.

Before that, we have to confront a rather controversial issue - the illusion of free will. This sounds rather counter-intuitive because, for our experiences, we are often free to choose, right? Yet, to Spinoza, the mis-conception about the existence of free will leads to our enslavement and pain. If we are asking the wrong question, how can we reach an insightful answer? For Spinoza, there simply may not have a choice between determinism and free will. The sadness we get from our lives is due to wrong assumptions which are originated from passions – for example, believing there will be a God who will do us justice. Spinoza stated that if we wrestled with all these false impressions, we would never achieve a virtuous life.

Does that mean humanity does not deserve freedom? Spinoza disagreed. Because for him, freedom took a deeper layer of meaning. To be free is to be free of the sentiment, false assumptions and wrong conceptions that will only serve as burdens to one’s way to happiness. To Spinoza, if one can appreciate the working of Nature and be able to go naturally with the flow, they will gain an intellectual fulfillment and find true happiness for their existences. If one can control the passions and view the Nature with awe, they can still be gratified to see that they are part of an elegant and wonderful universe. Spinoza’s God will only award those who are willing to step out from the comfort zone of ignorance and alter their attitudes to see the real world for themselves.

After all, you do not have to agree with Spinoza – he was just one of the many wise men who have contributed significantly to human knowledge. Yet to me, if reading Spinoza will motivate your inquisitive mind to give some real thoughts about the human condition, then I suppose he has succeeded.    

(2/2)

by Ed Law

17/9/2016

Spinoza, Part 1

Very recently, I have read a new book about the philosopher Benedict Spinoza, known as ‘The Spiritual Automaton - Spinoza's Science of the Mind’ (ISBN: 9780199675531), by Professor Eugene Marshall. It is a nice updated book about Spinoza’s ideas, and I highly recommend this to anyone who enjoys knowledge. I have always had an intense admiration on Spinoza, and although he was someone who existed like 400 years ago, his brilliant ideas seem to manage to connect well with our age. Therefore I will talk about Spinoza this time.

Upon an examination of a portrait of Spinoza, one can easily develop an impression that Spinoza was a humble, friendly sort of person. Indeed, after he has become a private scholar, he lived quietly in a small room as a lens grinder, and throughout the years developed and wrote his original philosophy. He was known to decline a professorship from a university, because he felt that could compromise his free-thinking status through a private scholarship. Thus, one may assume that Spinoza’s philosophical ideas are about how to be a great guy and so on, right?

Spinoza as a cold rationalist

No! If you read through Spinoza’s philosophy, you will find that to be extremely – cold. What the reassurance you want from Spinoza, he does not give you any. His Magnum opus, ‘Ethics’, a book supposed to show us how to live an ‘ethical’ existence, was written in an abstract and geometrical manner. In Spinoza’s view, there is not a God who comes from another universe, behaves like a Superman, and has a score book to weigh the good and bad of humans and judges who should be punished. God is not a friendly dude, by the way. Spinoza believes that we are all selfish – but he has placed no moral considerations in this thorny word. What he means is that the most important human action is self-preservation, and so a normal person should behave in a self-directed manner. And, for us to live a happy life, Spinoza feels that we do not need religion or sentiment. What we need is an intellectual understanding of our real self and to develop a love of Nature. If this is the real face of Spinoza, then why is he considered inspirational, and why should I celebrate such an apparently heartless blockhead here?

Spinoza’s teachings may sound abstract and cerebral, yet I guess the most important thing to get out from that is to see that his ultimate aim is to encourage us to explore and confront the reality of human existence. To do this, we have to unveil the appearances that have been presented to us, or fed to us, though value judgments, religion, authority, or the so-called ‘common sense’. Spinoza has the faith to see human beings are rational, and because a sense of truthful well-being can be attained in our lives, we first have to understand our places in the universe, and how our minds interact with our surroundings. Spinoza was an academic of incredible integrity – he did not rely on story-telling or rhetoric to convince his readers. Instead, he demonstrated (in a mathematical sense), in a logical and rational manner, the metaphysics of humanity, so that we can work through and see the consequences by ourselves. By defining God, Mind and other important terms, Spinoza led us through a journey of wisdom.

If we ask Spinoza whether he believes in the existence of God or not, he will likely first ask you for a clear definition of God. Because his understanding of ‘God’ is very different from the traditional ‘God’ present in religion. In Spinoza’s words, his God is equivalent to ‘God / Nature’, the slash suggesting the two words are interchangeable. Therefore, Spinoza’s God is an impersonal one, and there is no ‘Daddy’ element at all in his interpretation of the ultimate deity. His God can be seen more as a force of nature, or the order that governs the things in the world. His concept of God is indeed an abstract one.

Over the centuries, philosophers have provided many proofs and discussions on the existence of an ultimate deity. Spinoza, who was among one of these wise men, did believe in the existence of God! Yet, what was most original about his idea is that, first, his conception of God was very different from any of his predecessors – he was considered an atheist by many due to his stunning conception of the ‘Big Boss’. And, in his Magnum opus ‘Ethics’, Part 1, Proposition 11, stands the ultimate statement about God. It is long and detailed, yet it can neatly summarize in 3 words – ‘God Necessarily Exists’. Curiously, it is the central word, ‘necessarily’, that is the most important and defines Spinoza’s thoughts. Spinoza believes that in a rational universe, things happen by necessity, thus reality is constructed through a chain of causes and effects.

What can Spinoza’s God, which is also equated with Nature, offer to humanity? Spinoza’s naturalistic conception of God shows us that God is not a transcendent being  - that means it does not come from another realm, like the Platonic forms, and not inaccessible like those cases. Rather, it is immanent, meaning that it is in ourselves, it is part of our world. Of course, that seems to strike with Nietzsche’s outlook in general. For both Spinoza and Nietzsche, when one needs to solve a problem of human nature, there is no point to ask for God’s help from another world. Rather, all the answers can be found ‘in this world’. Therefore, for Spinoza, humanity is part of nature – and to appreciate this position in the universe is essential before we continue to understand the working of our minds and the way to enhance our well-being through our existences.

Two further implications are evident from Spinoza’s conception of the universe. First, it suggests the world is operating in a deterministic manner, which is also in tune in the contemporary scientific development such as Cartesian or Newtonian mechanics. Because things happen by necessity, so the actions are linked through chains of defined causes and effects. And, it also suggests the train of action is moving on a single route – there are no other possible ways to go further. Spinoza’s God is not anthropomorphic or benevolent - it is a deterministic system that cannot feel or commit to any sort of sentiment.

Second, Spinoza’s philosophy is mechanical in nature. Those the causality of events, the universe operates as a mechanism, just like the demonstration of mathematical concepts, when they are linked by necessity. Spinoza was considered as one of the mechanical philosophers of the 17^th century, though he has made himself clear that he was not a materialist or an atomist, for which a number of other mechanical philosophers, such as Boyle and Hobbes, were associated with.

(1/2)

by Ed Law

14/9/2016

Barry Lyndon

The tableau of human existence often resembles a large chessboard. All of us, who are engaged in a game of survival, are pawn pieces that can be eliminated due to the slightest lapse of judgment. In such a brutal battleground, we often have to submit to the most unexpected circumstances and then perish amidst the complex web of causes and effects. Yet, how often can we understand the secrets behind all these human experience? Is it possible that we are controlled by a sort of driving force, that we are inaccessible to and are often beyond our control? After all, can we detach ourselves from the subjective feelings that have always entrapped us and achieve a higher level of understanding regarding our humanistic existence? If you are fascinated by the above questions, then the film I am discussing at length in the coming weeks is the one for you – Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon (1975) !

‘Barry Lyndon’, a 18^th century period drama, was one of Kubrick’s major efforts at the 1970s. The script was based on W. M. Thackeray’s novel ‘The luck of Barry Lyndon’, though the perspective and the plot elements were very different in Kubrick's version, giving the film a unique charisma of its own. ‘Barry Lyndon’ is important because it is a surrogate for Kubrick’s abandoned project, ‘Napoleon’. All the efforts and preparations for ‘Napoleon’ would be fully realized in ‘Barry Lyndon’, from an insistence on natural light photography to the authenticity for the details in terms of plot, set design and costume. Given the available materials that have been passed on to the later generations, one can appreciate that ‘Napoleon’ would likely to be Kubrick’s most ambitious project, and this could also be felt when one was viewing the abandoned project’s cousin, ‘Barry Lyndon’.

At an epic length of 3 hours, the 1975 film chronicled the rise and fall of a social climber, Barry Lyndon (starring Ryan O’Neal), and the story also shed lights on many issues regarding human existence. Like many other Kubrick films, ‘Barry Lyndon’ received mixed reviews upon its initial release, and performed poorly at the box office. The film still managed to receive 4 Oscars, and Kubrick was nominated for Best Picture, Director and Adapted Screenplay. Nevertheless, ‘Barry Lyndon’ has stood the test of time, and more people have become aware of the film over the years, and now it is considered as one of Kubrick’s towering achievement.

Let me be frank – I am certainly not a ‘special species’ who has a stunning endurance for apparently ‘boring’ materials. When I first watched ‘Barry Lyndon’ in my teenage years, like many viewers, I felt the film to be extremely slow and boring. Yet, the film has certainly left an intense impression on me, and many of the filmic images in the film have lingered long in my mind since my first viewing of the film. I believe my first impression in ‘Barry Lyndon’ was caused by a thirst for sensation or sentiment in my early years of watching films, and ‘Barry Lyndon’ seemed to offer the viewers neither of these ‘emotional pornography’. When I have grown up, I have been able to realize the futility of fake sentiment and have started to think deeper into the many issues regarding human nature. Thus, I decided to give this boring film another chance. This time, it was a completely different experience, and the numerous insightful observations ‘Barry Lyndon’ has offered represented great inspirations for me to probe into the questions regarding  the human condition. Now, ‘Barry Lyndon’ has an extremely special place in my heart. It is one of the only three films that have significantly influenced my worldview, the way I look at the world. The other 2 contenders are iconic in their own ways, too – Akira Kurosawa’s ‘Rashomon’ and Kubrick’s ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’.

I have the strong commitment that, as a faithful follower of Stanley Kubrick, I have to recommend ‘Barry Lyndon’ to you, for both practical and personal reasons. The major reasons are because the film is far less known when it is compared to the other late Kubrick films, and more important, it is an intensely misunderstood film. The two issues seem to intertwine in a curious way. The reason why ‘Barry Lyndon’ is a lesser known Kubrick film is likely because the audience are misled to believe that the film is ‘cold’, ‘boring’, ‘clinical’, and ‘slow’ – some of the labels splattered by certain ‘critics’, for whom I doubt whether they have the patience to finish off the whole film and then make a fair comment. The comments from these ‘walk-out-at-20-minutes’ personalities are abundant on the web, and I suppose the wrong message have been passed on as a result.

Which, I think, is rather paradoxical. ‘Barry Lyndon’ is a very subtle film, because the film does not have heightened characters like those in ‘2001’, ‘A Clockwork Orange’ or ‘The Shining’. That suggests the film does not have a Wow factor that makes one jump out of the seat. Indeed, the characters we find in ‘Barry Lyndon’ are normal people, who are desperate for survival in a hostile world. Many of these characters are dark, hypocritical and negative, yet they are very realistic – they are the archetypes who are timeless and can be easily identified in our world. Many audiences can be able to identify with the protagonist, Barry, and it should not be surprising that our world is full of Barry Lyndons – social climber, opportunist, amoralist. On the other hand, ‘Barry Lyndon’ has some of the most compassionate and emotional moments in any Kubrick films, and I believe those detractors have likely left the cinema at those moments, so they are oblivious to those scenes. That is why I think it is rather strange, because ‘Barry Lyndon’ is a Kubrick film which is most relevant to the human experience, and I suppose any audience who are inquisitive about humanity should be interested in such a film. To me, ‘Barry Lyndon’ is possibly the most Kubrickian film of all – it is in the film when Kubrick expresses his insightful views about humanity and showcases his unique approaches to film art. The secret to appreciate ‘Barry Lyndon’ is patience and an open mind. ‘Barry Lyndon’ is a film that rewards multiple viewings, because one viewing is simply not enough to take in all the stunning filmic images and themes. If you have the patience to engage with Kubrick’s stunning period piece, you will find ‘Barry Lyndon’ a calm and unsentimental film, yet ripen with witty black humor, surprising and awe-inspiring twists, rich human insights and genuine emotions.

A brief sketch on the story. The plot follows a two part structure, detailing the rise and fall of a layman  in the 18th century, known as Redmond Barry (Ryan O’Neal). An omniscient narrator is also present to provide observations and some of the dark and cynical humor. From a humble beginning, Barry longed to have a social status and a true love. Barry was just a chess piece on the enormous chessboard of humanity. After killing an opponent in a duel for passion, Barry was forced into exile, only to learn later that, his opponent faked his death so that the girl’s family could chase Barry away from town, and she could marry Barry’s opponent, who was richer and would lead to a better economic prospect. Circumstances and the Seven Years’ War drove Barry into different fronts, and his solace was a warm-hearted family friend, Captain Grogan. Yet when Grogan was killed in a skirmish in the most circumstantial way, Barry realized that he had to be ruthless and took any chances he encountered, if he still wanted to stay in the game and prospered in such a hopeless universe. Eventually, luck knocked on Barry’s door, when Barry courted and eventually married Sir Charles Lyndon’s wife, Lady Harriet Lyndon -of course, after Sir Charles died untimely from a heart attack.  Barry became Barry Lyndon, like some sort of a double existence. But his dark side eventually caught up with his bright future, when he estranged the timid Lady Lyndon, amassed financial problems and ignited the wrath of his stepson, Lord Bullingdon. Would fate spare Barry Lyndon, and would Barry lead to a happy end and actualize his life? Wait a minute, didn’t the narrator tell us the answer halfway through the film ...?!

For the time being, if you are interested in Stanley Kubrick and yet have not watched ‘Barry Lyndon’ before, just give it a shot!

by Ed Law

10/9/2016

Film Analysis - 69

Through A Glass Darkly

Ingmar Bergman’s ‘Through a Glass Darkly’ (1961) is considered as a member of a trilogy of films, which also includes ‘Winter Light’ (1963) and ‘The Silence’ (1963). While I plan to discuss all 3 films as a whole in a later article, as they all possess a common theme on religion and the related spiritual questions, I am in particular fascinated with ‘Through a Glass Darkly’ as it also involves psychological themes. That will be the focus of this article.

Influenced by the chamber plays of Strindberg, ‘Through A Glass Darkly’ possesses a 3-act structure and the setting is extremely claustrophobic The scenes are minimalist in the sense that there are only four major characters in the film, and, while it may sound a bit of a cliché, the characters act as mirrors for each other. The intensity of the story rests on the claustrophobic environment and also the intimate interactions for the limited number of characters. On the other hand, the story takes place on a defined place and a defined period of time – a 24-hour period, which reminds me of Aristotle’s Poetics – and his criteria on the unity of drama. This is also an attribute much treasured by Andrei Tarkovsky’s later work.

Four family members took a vacation in a secluded island, but in a Bergman film, it was unlikely to be a happy experience. First, the schizophrenic Karin was just out from an asylum. His father, David, was not too content, neither. He was a novelist suffering from a writer’s block. And then there was Karin’s husband, Martin; and Karin’s younger brother, Minus, who did not have a great relationship with his father David. Karin’s delusions (or genuine spiritual experience) led her to believe that God was calling her; and David was desperate to have progress in his work by writing about Karin’s plight as the inspiration. Martin was not too happy about this. On the other hand, Karin insisted that her experience with God was real and she pressed responsibilities of everything, including her misconduct with his brother Minus, as callings from God. Frustrated by the fragmented experiences that were tormenting her psyche, Karin asked for permission to return to the asylum, before stating one final time that she has seen God coming and ‘God is an evil-faced spider, and his eyes are cold and calm’ - as it was only a spider which emerged from the place where she believed God would have emerged. Karin was returned to the hospital by Martin, and Minus finally had a real conservation with his father, and they both knew they had the chance to reconcile.

The minimal number and intimacy of the characters suggested that each of them could serve as mirrors for the others. While these reflections were not objective representations of the true affairs, they could at least serve as a motivation for introspection, and also served as a viewpoint for the various characters to ponder on their own personalities. Bergman’s faces are the mirrors for the characters and the audience alike – it is the gesture to invite all of us to confront our true nature.

Bergman, like Robert Bresson and Carl Theodor Dreyer, could be all considered as ‘spiritual filmmakers’. Yet in Bergman’s work, he has often been skeptical about the existence of God. Karin’s spiritual experience in the attic was questionable, as Bergman has not indicated to the viewers whether her hearing from God was a genuine experience or just clinical dementia. This has led me to draw parallel to the situation of Joan of Arc, for which Bresson and Dreyer have made stunning films about; and I have also talked about ‘The Passion of Joan of Arc’ in the past articles. Many subsequent academics have questioned the authenticity of Joan of Arc’s spiritual experience, suggesting what she has believed to the ‘voice of God’ could just be her schizophrenic condition. So, the call to protect her country may after all be a clinical delusion! Certainly, these theories are all speculations because that are no ways to verify these hypotheses empirically. Nevertheless, this serves to illustrate the complexity of psychological issues, and the interplay between the spiritual and psychological dimensions of the human condition.

by Ed Law

3/9/2016

Film Analysis

Persona

‘Persona’ (1966) is one of Ingmar Bergman’s most iconic achievements. The film possesses some of the most powerful filmic images that have ever emerged from the medium, and the style and theme presented in this piece of great European art cinema have inspired so many later filmmakers. This black-and-white film is confrontational, and it has a starkness that reminds me of Hiroshi Teshigahara’s ‘Woman in the Dunes’ (1964). On the other hand, it also reminds me of ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ (1968), as both films pose questions rather than offering answers. ‘Persona’ is a total mystery, and there is simply not one unifying interpretation regarding what it is about. You do not go to Bergman or Kubrick and ask them what the movies mean – it is you who are supposed to connect and understand these masterpieces in your personal way.

The story of Persona is indeed quite simple. Elisabet Vogler was a theatre actress, who has suddenly become mute during a stage performance. So, a nurse called Alma was called in to take care of her, and the majority of the story revolved around their intimate interactions. Alma talked to the mute Elisabet throughout the film, and in most cases Elisabet did not response in any verbal means. Yet, as the story progressed, all lines of divisions were blurred. Past and present were linked up, dream and reality were no longer clear, two faces seemed to merge into one...

Bergman’s Masks

The word ‘persona’, which is derived from a Latin origin, means the masks that are worn by actors when they are performing on a stage. Isn’t life a drama after all? We all wear various masks when we interact with others. We present ourselves to the others as a certain persona, and too often, we hide our true selves behind the curtain. What is even more depressing, however, is that we often do not have the courage to face our real selves. The theme of mask and façade is prevalent also in Jean Renoir’s films – from ‘The Grand Illusion’ to ‘The Rules of the Game’. Renoir firmly believed that, only by looking beyond the façade and tearing off the masks, one could finally see the true face of humanity.

Why do we have to hide behind these false personas and exist as if we are theatre performers? To Bergman, we do have quite a lot to hide. We all have a lot of problems and angst to confront, and when we start to consider the meaning of life, we are exposed to an emptiness and loneliness for which the implications are often tough to take in. The ennui and emptiness of modern existence is also a major theme in Michelangelo Antonioni’s films, and it should not be surprising that both Bergman and Antonioni’s most productive periods are both in the 1950s / 1960s. To repress these hard feelings, we desire to run away from all these intimate problems and long to play another easier role, through the undertaking of another persona.

The fun of acting, however, is hard to sustain. In the film, Elisabet suddenly broke down during a stage performance and ceased to speak anymore after that. The breaking point represented the dissonance between her stage persona – or in a more metaphoric way – the persona she was pretending in real life – and her truest inner self. It was the massive conflict of her true and assumed self that made her aware of her existential problems. Her powerful response was that of silence - this was her statement that she did not want to play this assumed role anymore.

The axis of turning

In Bergman’s films, turning is one of the most important and symbolic gestures. In many cases, it is the turning away that represents the most painful experience for the characters. Turning away is to run away from problems, relationships, and human interactions. That explains why Bergman’s faces are his most resourceful motifs for his work. The movements and gestures of the faces very much convey the interactions of the characters, and also symbolize whether they are willing to commit or not.

In Persona, Elisabet has been trying to run away. She was mute most of the time, and she did not response to any of Alma’s questions. Alma served to confront Elisabet, to ask her questions about her past experiences. Alma’s challenges invited Elisabet to confront her true self, and to add to that, the stunning close-up of faces also invited the audience to examine themselves. Elisabet, like any other characters in Bergman’s films, could not run away from her problems. She might be mute for no sensible reasons, yet the true voice in her mind would not cease. The intensity of the film was contributed from the two great actresses, Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullmann. In most of the film, there were only the two of them performing, and the claustrophobic intimacy only added to the intensity and the psychological thrill of the resulting masterpiece.

Offering a helping hand

Bergman’s films often deal with existentialism, and the journey to find one’s meaning of existence is often a lonely one. I feel there is an optimistic aspect in many of Bergman’s bleak pictures – the company of someone who is willing to give a hand. The most powerful ‘face’ scenes in Bergman’s films often consist of two faces – with someone who is willing to ask questions and to inspire. It is the presence of an ‘other’ who will motivate you to look beyond the surface and give you the courage to face the spiritual sickness, which in Bergman’s view, is far more problematic than any physical sickness that has appeared in this world.

by Ed Law

27/8/2016

Film Analysis

Kubrick: Napoleon, Part 2 - The Scarlet Waltz

Depiction of a Napoleonic Battle.

'What's the difference? It's all food. This is how Napoleon used to eat.'

-Stanley Kubrick allegedly to actor Malcolm McDowell, when the latter asked why Kubrick ate ice cream at the same time as his main course steak, at a dinner meeting during the pre-production of 'A Clockwork Orange'.

Expecting to be filmed and released after ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’, ‘Napoleon’ stood at the era when Stanley Kubrick’s films were the most innovative and vibrant. ‘Napoleon’ could be the most Kubrickian film of all, and it was not only because of the style and themes that would be presented in the unfinished work. Experiencing ‘Napoleon’ would be like viewing Kubrick in action – observing his approach to challenging filmmaking issues and understanding how he devised ingenious ideas to solve the numerous problems during the process of making a film.  

  

What made Napoleon ‘Kubrickian’?

Kubrick has described the Napoleonic Wars as ‘lethal ballets’. He could perceive the analogy between the heavily choreographed dance numbers and the large scale battles in Europe at Napoleon’s times. Napoleonic Wars had the legacy of innovations in military weapons, enlarged scope, and the ingenious or even elegant applications of strategies. If you have seen any paintings regarding Napoleonic Wars before, you should most likely notice an aesthetic elegance of these bloody encounters. Dressed in differently colored military suits, the large number of troops moved, or literally flowed, slowly through a vast natural landscape. Every strategy, leading to a very specific movement or turn, was so dynamic that even the gunfire has not started, these preludes to the bloody battle could already raise any audience with awe.

Kubrick has always understood that, even for the simplest movement, if it was filmed in a very vibrant and dynamic way, and added with the relevant use of music and other filmic techniques, could give rise to a lyrical and rhythmic outcome as stunning as great music. Kubrick has always felt that image was his prime concern when he made a film, rather than dialogue or narrative. It was through this firm belief that gave him the courage to make something as abstract and subtle as ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’. How can a few flowing spacecrafts contribute to something we now call ‘art’? That is Kubrick’s signature touch- the way he staged the slowly moving Ferris wheel and the space station, the color tone he has employed and his inclusion of ‘The Blue Danube’ throughout the sequence. It was the mélange of all these parts that gave the audience an extraordinary impression they have never experienced before, and thus provided the viewers with the feel of an ‘odyssey’. It was Kubrick’s musical, rather than narrative, treatment of the scene that would lead to his famed signature style.

With this approach in mind, we can try to speculate how Kubrick would have approached the battle scenes in ‘Napoleon’. Imagine an extreme long shot, where an aerial view could show the outline of the battleground. The large number of troops from opposing sides, in different colored suits, moved almost like patches amidst the greenness of the natural landscape, or, in the case of the Russian battle, the whiteness of the snow. The dynamic formations and dissolution of the various troops addressed by the interactions and changes in strategies throughout the duration of the battle, and the ingenious arrangements and configurations of the forces, the wisdom behind these military ideas could be conveyed to the audience through narration or clear descriptions. Nevertheless, it was the vibrant color, lyrical movements, and dynamics that would heighten the visual sensations of the audience the most and immediate, and this was the aspect that was guaranteed in any film from Kubrick. The slow-paced mobilization of the troops, the turn of direction for the massive army, would make it as elegant as a Waltz. As Kubrick has succinctly stated in an interview, the aesthetic brilliance of these battles did not require someone with a military mind to understand, an ordinary viewer could easily feel the elegance through simple cinematic images. Kubrick drew a nice analogy that, if one could appreciate the beauty of a symphony or something mathematical like the Fibonacci sequence, they would be moved by the heightened and dynamic images from his ‘Napoleon’ film.

Now, some readers may sense a tension between style and substance here. If Kubrick was committed to explain to the audience objectively about the details of the execution of the battles, would his stylized signature approach divert from the objective truths he was trying to convey to the audience?

To me, the most important issue is to strike a delicate balance between personal style and substance. From what we have in ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’, I am confident that if Kubrick could have an opportunity to direct ‘Napoleon’, he would be able to achieve that.

It is quite evident the more heightened scenes, such as ‘The Blue Danube’ and ‘The Stargate’ sequence, has not compromised the other more informative sequences that can provide the viewers a window to speculate about the future life and technology. The aforementioned sequences are special because Kubrick has attempted to convey the feelings and meanings (if there are any) only through filmic images and music, without recourse to any narrative elements. He has done so well in this regard that the style has eventually borne his name. If Kubrick could keep in mind about this balanced approach, then I believe the end result of ‘Napoleon’ would be a brilliant mélange of stunning filmic images and Realist depictions of fascinating historical events.

What would be the ultimate challenges for ‘Napoleon’?

‘Napoleon’ was an extremely ambitious project for Kubrick, and to translate a complex character like Napoleon Bonaparte into cinematic forms, it was going to present much challenges for this master in film.

It is almost impossible to compress Napoleon’s life into a three- or four-hour film, as Kubrick might have expected, without compromising or taking out certain aspects of Napoleon’s life. Apart from the various warfare Napoleon has found himself in, many aspects of his life are worth a closer inspection. How he has risen to the top from his humble start as a Corsica-born young man; his passion for Josephine; the reasons for his fall; or even his life style as an emperor (with a Viscontian touch in this case), are all interesting topics for any Napoleon-themed films. The challenges of making an epic often stem from the multi-faceted topic or the complexity of the protagonist. To be honest, not that many people can write something brilliant like ‘War and Peace’ on this planet!

Kubrick would be likely to show his filmmaking caliber through the portrayal of the Napoleonic Wars. Through many abstractions in the topic, this would likely ignore the minor, yet contributing, aspects of Napoleon’s life. This would likely attract criticisms from the audience and critics alike. And if the film was not doing as well as expected, like many re-assessed classics throughout the film history, it would certainly serve as a giant blow to Kubrick’s career, and would limit the scope of  his future projects. The Napoleon was going to be extremely risky project for Kubrick, because he was working at full force at that era, yet there was no guarantee that his efforts would equate to the rewards he would get from the film. Indeed, Kubrick would most likely have to make a 10 hour film to do Napoleon justice – like, in the case of Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter nowadays!

Thus, his eventual abandonment of the project could be seen as a wise move. It is certainly an all-time shame that Kubrick had no chance to present his most ambitious project to the world, yet through the advancement of technology and the change in audience expectation, he understood that he had to come to terms with the trend. Since ‘2001’, every Kubrick film could capture the mindset of the contemporary audience, and even more they stroke resonance in the future viewers, too. Kubrick’s character was that of moderation and control – he knew when to stop and let things go, and then moved on. If he has forcefully pushed on, and ended up with a cinematic disaster, his reputation would be tarnished, and this has often happened to a number of great filmmakers over the course of film history.

Concluding Remarks

There is another old saying – often what is not present is the most interesting aspect. Kubrick could not make his Napoleon film, yet the effort and passion he has devoted to his unfinished film is what has made the whole saga legendary.

(2/2)

by Ed Law

22/8/2016

Film Analysis - 68

Kubrick: Napoleon, Part 1 - The Naturalistic Rondo

A portrait of Napoleon Bonaparte; Stanley Kubrick directing 'Barry Lyndon' (1975).

‘...an epic poem of action’ 

-Stanley Kubrick on the life of Napoleon Bonaparte.

For all my articles in ‘Film Analysis’ so far, there is one aspect in common – these films all exist in this world. This time, I would like to talk about a film that has never existed. Why bother to waste time talking about something that does not even stand in this world? It is because of that old saying - process is often more important than the outcome. And, if the undertaking is as rigorous, passionate, and intense as in the case of Stanley Kubrick, then this story is worthwhile like any of his other masterpieces. That never-existed film is the project Kubrick has sought to do throughout his life – ‘Napoleon’.

Kubrick has always been obsessed with the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, and one can easily appreciate why. Napoleon was known as a military genius, who worked very hard and devised very stunning military strategies, which led to his many successes in the era of what we now call ‘Napoleonic Wars’. Napoleon has lived his life to the fullest, and the confidence and charisma that radiated from this average-height person has made him one of the most iconic historical figures of all time. In a sense, Kubrick somehow resembled the character of Napoleon. Kubrick’s concentration in his craft – cinema, and the passion he has devoted to film making and the control and strategy he has devised to stage the perfect shots for his work, are no less intense than a Napoleonic battle. Kubrick is indeed fighting his own war to get the best artistic outcome!

After finishing ‘2001 : A Space Odyssey’, which was premiered eventually in 1968, Kubrick and his team started working on the Napoleon film. He intensely worked on this project in the late 1960s, and intended to finish and release this historical epic in the early 1970s. This is the perfect time to show such a great epic. Back in an age when special effects were not advanced enough to film large scale sequences, people would look up with awe if Kubrick could depict these battle scenes in an authentic manner.  It is very much like ‘2001’, as the special effects presented in the sci-fi classic were almost without any precedent at that time. Imagine if ‘2001’ and ‘Napoleon’ are made in 2016, do you think these films will provide such an impact to the audience? With the advancement of computer-generated images nowadays, how hard is it to generate a 40,000 troop or a few flying Ferris wheels? Even a very average filmmaker can easily stage these scenes in an era of technological advancement. Thus, it can be said that ‘Napoleon’ has to exist in a defined time, and one can then easily understand why Kubrick would eventually abandon the project rather than pushing on it.

However, fate has dictated that Kubrick would never make his most ambitious film. Another film about a similar theme, ‘Waterloo’ (1970), came out first and was a real fiasco. Thus, Kubrick’s studio bosses were nervous and they postponed his project, and Kubrick did not have any chances to make ‘Napoleon’ throughout the rest of his life.

Instead, Kubrick made 2 wonderful films in the 1970s – A Clockwork Orange (1971) and Barry Lyndon (1975). ‘Barry Lyndon’, which also took place in the 18^th century, is particularly important here. Because Kubrick has used much of his preparatory work and techniques and translated the efforts into ‘Barry Lyndon’. Therefore, Barry Lyndon can be seen as a window into Kubrick’s vision of Napoleon, as many of the approaches in ‘Barry Lyndon’ were originally intended to be used in ‘Napoleon’. Barry Lyndon is the focus of my next couple of articles in the Kubrick series.

What did Kubrick want to achieve in his Napoleon film?

The prime concern for Kubrick in his version of Napoleon was a strenuous commitment to realism. A core value often treasured by the filmmaker, he would adopt an objective approach to the biographic sketch of this great military genius, and the depictions of all the key events in Napoleon’s life would come as close to reality as possible.

Certainly, one should not be over surprised that, among all the experiences Napoleon has ever encountered, the ones that have left lasting impressions in the future generations were the various battles Napoleon has been involved in. Napoleonic Wars were likely going to be the master stroke of Kubrick’s period epic, and, very much like the futuristic scenes in ‘2001’, these were going to be the scenes to see where Kubrick stood at the history of cinema. Battles of all scales are often complex, and the strategies employed are often difficult to understand for an ordinary member in the audience. In order to achieve accurate descriptions of the battles and the strategies involved, Kubrick has decided to include narration, and the use of maps, schemes, and paintings, besides the use of cinematic techniques to depict the battles.

Thus, one can consider Kubrick’s Napoleon to be some sort of a docudrama – a film with a strong documentary feel. This made total sense in the age when Kubrick was working on Napoleon – as it was an era when the use of cinéma vérité techniques was becoming increasingly popular in fiction films. Kubrick has been influenced by this documentary-inspired filmmaking style, and has already employed it in ‘Dr. Strangelove’. As a mater of fact, cinéma vérité techniques have also been used in ‘A Clockwork Orange’ and ‘Barry Lyndon’.

In order to capture an intense sense of reality for the various battles, Kubrick felt that the details of the battles should go from the props and costumes all the way to the terrain. He felt that the factor of the terrain – ‘the ground’ when the battle took place – could potentially impact the flow of the troops and thus the strategies devised on both sides, hence influencing the final outcome of the battle.

A more technical preference for Kubrick was his intention to use natural lighting in both exterior and interior scenes for the film, to capture a period feel of the 18^th century. This was quite a feat because, for the 18^th century, an age when no electric lights were yet available, and illumination might require either sunlight or candle, the cinematic photographic technology  available in the 1960s or 1970s were not powerful enough to capture these ‘available light source’ or under lit images without the help of additional electrical lighting setup. If Kubrick’s obsession meant that he would abandon electrical lighting totally in ‘Napoleon’, then it was going to be a really tough challenge. Facing with a similar problem at the time he made ‘Barry Lyndon’, Kubrick eventually succeeded in finding a monumental solution for that, and this will be discussed in my first article of ‘Barry Lyndon’.

What did Kubrick and his team do to realize ‘Napoleon’?

‘Wherever Napoleon went, I want you to go.’ 

– Kubrick to his assistant.

Known for his meticulous research into projects he has achieved – and has not realized, Kubrick’s work for Napoleon deserves a picture of its own. Other than reading hundreds of books about Napoleon, Kubrick has devised an extensive filing system to categorize all the information about the French emperor, and this was before the computer age. The filing system also included potential location photos and Napoleonic imageries. The result was a compilation of 25,000 library cards, with a size of 3 inches by 5 inches, containing all the information, major and minor, regarding the life of Napoleon.

In order to have a realistic feel about the battles, Kubrick and his team examined many paintings of that age, and those from subsequent eras, that portrayed Napoleonic battles. He has already employed this approach – through the examination of a single available photograph of a fighter jet – to stage the realistic fighter jet sequence  in ‘Dr. Strangelove’ (1964), and he would adopt a similar approach when he made ‘Barry Lyndon’ later.

Because Kubrick desired to portray the Napoleonic battles as accurate as possible in a cinematic manner, therefore he had to make sure every component that comprised the final result was executed in the most perfect way possible. As mentioned, the terrain was important for the war, thus Kubrick has looked for possible locations that he could portray the battles. At the end, he was able to approximate and abstract a number of locations where he believed he could stage his version of the battles. As an example of Kubrick’s obsession, he even asked his assistant to bring back samples of soil from Waterloo, so that he could accurately match the correct color tone for his film. In a pre-CGI age, when one could not easily bloat up the scale by faking, Kubrick has tried to borrow some 50,000 men from the Romanian armies for the battle scenes, and he has planned to film his battles on various suitable locations, including France, Italy, and Yugoslavia.

How about the cast? That was just as stunning when compared to the more technical aspects of the project. Kubrick wanted either David Hemmings or Jack Nicholson to be his Napoleon, with Audrey Hepburn as Josephine, and veteran actors Alec Guinness and Laurence Olivier as supporting roles.  

Kubrick has also watched a number of films about Napoleon Bonaparte and that era, including Abel Gance’s impressionistic ‘Napoleon’. However, he was not particularly impressed by any of them, and he felt he was able to do things better, and to make what he believed to be the greatest historical film of all time...

(1/2)

by Ed Law

21/8/2016

Film Analysis - 68