Saturday, 23 December 2017

The Thing, Part 2


‘The Thing’ (1982) is the sort of the film I start to be able to identify more and more when I grow up. True, E. T. has once been my favorite film of all time, but we all have our past, right? The more I return to the film, the less I see it as a horror film. What happened in ‘The Thing’ does not necessarily happen in another universe – it can just happen in our real world. ‘The Thing’ can be anything, be it a rumor, a disease, or something destructive for our well being. The reason why The Thing is scary is not merely because it was violent and chopped off someone’s arm as if it was nothing; The Thing was a reflection of our dark side – it exposed humanity’s darkest aspect. Carpenter could have changed the ending of the story and given us a happy ending, as an affirmation of human spirit, yet he chose not to do so. He wanted this monster movie to inspire us, to give us entertainment (I know it is sick) and a chance for self-reflection in one package. ‘The Thing’ can just be Carpenter’ most philosophical and intelligent film.

What made this cinematic monster chilling was that, while we had no idea whether it possessed a brain or any cognitive faculties, it certainly was a cunning opponent. The Thing brought out the dark side of human nature – the ego, fear, and suspicion inherent in all of us, and what made us so human and not a mere robot. Rather than physically facing humans one-to-ten – rather like The Matrix or the Kung Fu Master – this monster stirred up the paranoia from the back, and led the humans to mistrust each other and started killing each other in return. If The Thing is a cowboy, it certainly was one that shoots someone at the back!

The American team was doomed from day one. A sense of fatalism was detected – the fact that the American team did not understand or aware what has happened to the Norwegian team meant that history was doomed to repeat itself, the ‘Thing’ scenario would happen to the American team in exactly the same way. It was quite sad to see when MacReady (Kurt Russell) was alone in the room, and did a recording to tell the later generations about the team’s encounter with ‘The Thing’. He certainly understood that they would not survive this ordeal, and sooner or later the remaining members would likely be eliminated one by one. Men might not have the ability to stand up to ‘The Thing’, yet there was something even worse – the fact they could not even stand by each other in such a critical situation.

What paranoia is all about is an irrational and subjective view towards others, especially when at a situation where trust and confidence are more important than ever. In ‘The Thing’, every action, no matter how positive and contributive it may first seem, can be interpreted in the opposite manner.  Even the most objective form of test would be suspected and failed to deliver the promise. When all the men agreed on that the fairest test was to have a blood test to see who has turned into a monster, the next thing they have found was that the blood has already been sabotaged. Another standoff ensued, as now everyone was suspecting that someone among them has already turned into ‘The Thing’ and attempted to skip the acid test. Even the apparently objective evidence could be questioned – when Mac’s torn shirts were found in the wrong place at the wrong time, suspicions all turned onto him, and he has to literally defend his ‘innocence’ by holding the other men at gun point. Everything has to be tied up – which is ironic because it seemed to be only time when they were literally branded together as a team. Even worse are the testimonies by the characters. The trust and credibility of every character was questioned, even if the audience assumed that MacReady was the protagonist and likely to be the hero after all. When someone’s statement is contradicting what others have seen, his credibility was immediately put to question, and the focus was on whether he was ‘The Thing’ or not, even if there is another guy doing some funny business behind to distort the fact.

In the film, there were characters who were just plain unlucky. It could be the case that because one was standing just next to an infected character, he would be infected right away. If we take the meaning of ‘The Thing’ in a more metaphorical meaning, that will be the case if the destructive effect of paranoia, disease or rumor can pass on very effectively – because our dark and often irrational sides are so committed (The Hateful Eight reference) to choose to believe that, without analyzing it beforehand.

At the most stressful situations, people will retreat, and it really is the sad fact of humanity. Some of the members simply walked away, and were never to be found, or their corpse were later discovered, either devoured by The Thing or a suicide. One of the members, Blair was sort of like a ‘wiki’-freak and he just straightly went to the computer and engaged with a bit of dynamical equations – to see if ‘The Thing’ did escape and go to the civilized area, how long everyone on Earth would be infected. When the output stated ‘a few years’, Blair became consumed with awe and paranoia. He went as far to disconnect all the transport and communication for the others to escape. At the point he became the monster, he started building an aircraft, to achieve the aim of infecting the humanity with the nasty Thing.

Carpenter has placed a lot of clever ellipsis through the films. There are characters that disappeared for a while and suddenly reappeared some moments later, without stating , or showing objectively what has happened to them during their ‘time-off’ – all the characters and the audience can know was the verbal testimonies and reasons the character provided, and there are no ways to see whether their claims are true or not. The effect is that makes both the characters and audience alike more paranoid, because especially for us, we are not even allowed an objective point of view of the real answer to the mystery. Anyone who disappeared without a good reason could already be proof that they have been transformed to the monster. An relevant point I feel was that maybe some audience are over-analyzing the actions of the characters, especially when they tried to identify which character was ‘The Thing’. Statements like ‘Oh, he is not breathing all the way’ could be very subjective, because Carpenter deliberately misled us to follow that way. There is not an answer of who is ‘The Thing’ or not – if some ‘Man-Thing’ tried to pretend to be a human being – it certainly would behave like a genuine human being, and one would be hard to figure it out – except with the blood test or at the point it exposed. The director was playing a mind game with the audience, and to fuel their suspicion through the various ups and downs of the narrative.

At the end, the only 2 survivors were MacReady and Childs. Childs has disappeared throughout the final showdown, and no reasons were provided for his disappearance. Since Carpenter intended the ending to be dark and ambiguous, there were many debates and speculations about the final conclusion of the story - just search for ‘Is Childs the Thing’ on the web and you will be assaulted with loads of hits about the various theories. A very famous fan theory is that, while it appeared that MacReady was sharing a last bottle of liqueur with Childs, it was actually gasoline to test out whether Childs has transformed to the Thing. Since Childs appeared to have no hard feeling about the offer after he has taken a sip, MacReady confirmed that he was sitting next to a bloody monster. Of course, the flip side was that MacReady himself was the Thing (I understand it could be hard for Kurt Russell to be seen as the bad guy).

To me, I feel that there is no point to decide who is The Thing, because Carpenter’s idea is not to give a definite answer. The power of the ambiguous ending is that it would generate a sustained paranoia in the audience’s mind, because the ends will never be tied up properly, and the mystery would never be resolved. The team of men might be facing a powerful alien, yet it was the weakness and dark sides always inherent in humanity that have defeated them, and prevented them from devising more intelligent means to conquer the shadows that have haunted them.


So, any-Thing else to deal with?

-End-

(2/2)

by Ed Law
24/12/2017

Film Analysis


Monday, 18 December 2017

Star Wars, Part 2


I have planned to finish off my article on Star Wars with my personal view on the more dramatic and intimate issues of the story. Originally, I plan to divert the attention from another film from 1977, Steven Spielberg’s ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ (‘CE3K’ hereafter), as both films curiously are influenced by a great film from the 1950s, John Ford’s ‘The Searchers’. Yet after some consideration, I find that are way more to be explored in CE3K and it totally deserves an article on its own. Thus, here I will only concentrate on a comparison between Star Wars and The Searchers, and there may be some overlapping points in my next article on CE3K.

John Ford’s ‘The Searchers’ (1956) is considered as one of the greatest work in the Western genre. What is interesting is that the Western film has served as a predominant influence for many American filmmakers of the New Hollywood era, especially those filmmakers active during the 1970s. I presume there are 2 key reasons for that. First, the film was shown as the time when most of these filmmakers were teenagers, so this film from the master of Western served as a good example for them. Second, the character and theme portrayed in ‘The Searchers’ seemed to resonate well with the attitude of the 1970s – the ambiguity of moral issues, the drifter, the alienation and so on. It should not be surprising that directors like Scorsese, Schrader, Milius, Lucas, Spielberg, Coppola and many others have paid homage of some kind to this film. The plot and analysis are prevalent on the internet, and here we will concern with its influence on our great space opera.

There are always scores to be settled in the family, be it Darth Vader / Luke Skywalker, Anakin / Obi-Wan, or Han Solo / Kylo Ren. I believe Lucas’ original genius is to create this tension between father-son relationship, and the desperation for both parties to get a bit closer. In ‘The Searchers’, the story was about a not-so-perfect male character, Ethan Edwards, who has to redeem himself for his past mistakes and prejudices. Certainly, the two films may be different in tone and outlook, yet in the ‘Star Wars’ movies, many of the male characters have fallen into a state of redemption, as they believe they are the culprit  of ‘screwing some good things up’. They believe that they are responsible for ruining the potential of some gifted individuals (e.g. Anakin, Ren and the Jedi Order), and lead these young guys to the Dark Side and chaos. Thus, they are often consumed with guilt and regret, and in some case they attempt to turn away from the problem – which is the case for Obi-Wan Kenobi in Episode 4 and Luke Skywalker. In ‘The Searchers’, Ethan was a drifter from home for many years, and he did not want to say where he has been to and what he has done. He wanted to remain anonymous and retreated from the stress he has got in life. I guess a good thing common between ‘Star Wars’ and ‘The Serachers’ was that, while the characters were courageous and often were willing to stand up to challenges, they were also complex and realistic characters, and reflected aspects in life that we might also identify with.

Characters who regretted their past mistakes would first tend to drift away to reduce the pressure of it. Thus, Obi-Wan Kenobi isolated himself from the Jedi clan, giving himself the new name ‘Ben’. When Luke quizzed about the name ‘Obi-Wan’, he said with a regretful tone that it was a name people has not mentioned for a very long time. He tried to run away from this identity, as much like Ethan Edwards in ‘The Searchers’. Yet, there was no way to hide, because at a certain point, they would have to confront their pasts. Obi Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader, and the aged Luke Skywalker have to come face-to-face to what they have done and the dark sides that have often hidden there, and Ethan Edwards had to face his own prejudices against Indians and his irrational obsessions, towards his sister-in-law and daughter-in-law. Obi-Wan felt that it was his own fault to create Darth Vader, as Darth Vader put it succinctly when he faced Obi-Wan for the final showdown, ‘The Circle has finally come around.’ Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker could only redeem themselves while facing his mistakes – albeit through their own sacrifices. Ethan Edwards, after rescuing his daughter-in-law, finally appreciated that there would be no place for him in the community, chose to leave and drift away once more, completing his redemption.  


What ‘The Searchers’ is driving at is the fact that we are always ‘searching’ for something – our identities, our roles and how we fit into the story. As Rey, our heroine in the new trilogy, has put it in The Last Jedi – ‘I need someone to show me my place in all of this.’ You do not have to carry a lightsaber to be able to identify with this statement. It is a universal condition for anyone, and we are eternally searching for our own meanings to exist in our world. While it seems that it is a more pessimistic end for Ethan Edwards – because he was literally going in circles, searching everywhere and eventually going nowhere. It is great to see that ‘Star Wars’ placed a more optimistic outlook in this issue. If one was willing to follow a moral conscience, much like the Jedi way, and exercised with reason when making decisions, they would eventually discover the right direction and the meanings for their own lives. If you feel that something has been awoken – then it is the time to wield it!!

-End-

(2/2)

by Ed Law
18/12/2017

Film Analysis


Friday, 15 December 2017

The Thing, Part 1


When you hear the slogan ‘Together we will make it’, will you laugh it off as a joke or a delusion? When you do something for a group out of good will, do you expect your contribution will have exactly the opposite effect? When you place trust on someone else, is it based on any rational foundations or merely a blind faith? Is that a point that the paranoia inherent in all of us will eventually consume all of us in a community? These appear to be very dark, yet relevant questions to us to face, because they lead to a better appreciation of what that means to be human after all. And, these are the questions the great filmmaker John Carpenter explored in his masterpiece, which is celebrating the 35th anniversary this year – ‘The Thing’ (1982)!! 

 What is interesting about the history of ‘The Thing’ is that the film had its theatrical release at the same week as ‘Blade Runner’, and the fate of the two films have also been very similar. Both films suffered from initial mixed reviews and unsatisfactory box-office results, yet their reputations elevated to the level of the greatest work in their respective genre, and are considered modern classics by today’s standard. The similarities do not stop here – if we look into the 2 films, we can find a lot of common themes in the two great films. Another similar work is of course Stanley Kubrick’s ‘The Shining’, which appeared only 2 years before ‘The Thing’, and David Cronenberg’s ‘The Brood’, which the director has stated as his version of ‘Kramer vs. Kramer’. One can have the impression that the style and world view from these films are also very comparable to each other. These films were misunderstood as they were first shown to the audience, because they defied the audience’s expectation with regard to their alleged genre – which were sci-fi and horror – and they have shown something beyond their genres, for which the audience members were not ready for. If the viewer is willing to look beyond the surface, he/she will find the films are not merely about scary stuffs or high-tech wonders, but are about very elemental questions about human nature – that of alienation, identity, family relationships, institutions, and most of all – what makes us to be human.


When I first watched ‘The Thing’, like other viewers I was of course fascinated by the power of horror and the numerous WTF moments that has become legend for the film. The more I looked at it, I found it disturbing because it addressed the reality that we all situated in – and Carpenter seemed to have the foresight to realize what happened in ‘The Thing’ –the paranoia, the faulty interactions and so on- could just happen in the real world, maybe without the monsters itself. I see the film more as a psychological rather than a horror film, as putting the scary bits aside, the film gives you a lot of insights about human nature and how things can go wrong in human interactions. If one is saying that ‘The Thing’ is merely about a monster devouring every human characters he can cross path with during its 2 hours of cinematic life, then I would say the film is more about a potential breakdown of community, or civilization itself. ‘The Thing’ is great because it did not rely on cheap scare tactic to unsettle the audience, it brings out and liberates the innermost, and unconscious fear inherent in all of us. The film is beautiful because Carpenter has painstaking installed a lot of ambiguities throughout the film, meaning that the audience can not jump to simple conclusions regarding the actions and underlying motivations of any characters in the film. An apparent ‘good-natured’ action can just have the completely opposite motivation in the film. Not only this will generate a continued discussion of the film for the years to come , very much like ‘The Shining’ and ‘Blade Runner’, it can generate a tremendous sense of paranoia in the  audience’s mind, as they have no definite point of reference they can focus on when they try to make sense of the film.



I believe why ‘The Thing’ is so successful is not merely because it is a scary or entertaining film – the real reason is because it brings out some of the audience’s most fundamental concerns regarding themselves, very much like ‘The Shining’ and ‘Blade Runner’. The film itself represents the projection of the audience’s most intimate fear – the interactions with others, the paranoia that drives and leads to mistrust and nasty relationships, and the often futile attempts to stand up to problems that have proven to be too big for them.

‘The Thing’ has influenced many subsequent films in the horror / sci-fi lexicon, and its influence is not limited to these genres. Quentin Tarantino, for example, is a big fan of the film and he has cited influences of ‘The Thing’ in Reservoir Dogs and The Hateful Eight (which can be seen as ‘The Thing’ of the American West).


A quick look at the plot. 'The Thing' is actually an extraterrestrial life form, which is parasitic, and its only drive is to survive, survive, and survive, no matter what destructions it will cause to whatever universe it finds itself fall into. The untimely victim we have got is an all-man team working in Antarctica. When the man rescued a husky from the snowy landscape, they had absolutely no idea that this 'man's best friend' has some unfriendly company - 'The Thing' has always assimilated it and transformed it to a 'Dog-Thing'. When the 'Dog-Thing' has killed all its canine mates in the kernel and transformed into a monstrous being, all the men panicked. The power of this extraterrestrial monster was just too much for the humans - it started to assimilate the team members one by one, resulting in violent death (and spectacular WTF moments for the audience alike). What was worse, however, was that the team could no longer work together because of the unsettling fear and paranoia that has resulted. Who is there to trust? Who is the cowboy with the black hat? Who is the enemy and who is the comrade? And who is the next lucky guy to become 'The Thing'? As the situation became more dangerous and hope became more futile, the remaining men prepared for the final showdown with this monster - or, are they even aware of the fact they have turned to 'The Thing' already? 


The director of ‘The Thing’, John Carpenter has developed a very early interest in cinema since his childhood, and he in particular likes the Western genre and is inspired by the old great American director Howard Hawks. Hawks was sort of an all-rounder of cinema, as he was adept in delivering great work from a variety of genre. Yet, he was most likely remembered for his work in the Western genre and a sub-genre known as screwball comedy. At the surface, Hawk’s films are often about the spirit of working together professionally towards a common aim, yet he also made a slight twist through the introduction of a sort of characters known as ‘Hawksian woman’, a few example being Lauren Bacall, Katherine Hepburn, and Angie Dickinson. It is important first to be clear Hawks himself has no intention to place feminist ideas in his work in the first place. The introduction of ‘Hawksian woman’ is to challenge the way how cinema or the common people’s perception of female characters in culture. Hawksian woman, while situated in an era where the equality of sex was not a common belief, tended to challenge and destabilize the power, and expose the underlying weakness and vulnerability of the male character. That is exactly the reason why ‘Hawksian woman’ worked particular well in Film Noir (which Hawks has made a few great classics) and the screwball comedy, a genre where the writer-director Preston Sturges was famed for. The film noir often required a femme fatale, whom presence would significantly influence and contribute to the fate of the underdog protagonist. For the screwball comedy, which was an extremely common sub-genre of comedy back in the Hollywood 1940s, was about the battle-of-the-sexes, often an (intellectually and spiritually) strong and resourceful female characters versus a more ‘antiheroic’ or mellow male character. 


Why do I bother to talk so much about an old-school filmmaker? Well, Carpenter has cited Hawks as an influence for his filmmaking, and one can easily see that in many of his films, not just limited to ‘The Thing’. Indeed, Hawks have also made a film about a monster based on the same source of ‘The Thing’ back in the 1950s. Both films seemed to deal with some form of paranoia, in Hawks’ version, the allegorical paranoia of the Communist or the Red power that haunted many Hollywood filmmakers in the 1950s, and in Carpenter’s case, some people believed ‘The Thing’ served as an allegory for the cultural concern of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s (If we see ‘The Thing’ in a biological perspective, its mechanism is very much like a biological virus), and more obviously, the paranoia of suspicion and mistrust of others inherent in all of us.   In a number of films, Carpenter did agree to the Hawksian vision that one should face challenges and problems with courage, and work together professionally to combat the avalanche of problems that arise, like in ‘Assault of Precinct 13’, which was considered as a remake of ‘Rio Bravo’ in the modern setting. Yet the power of ‘The Thing’ is that Carpenter has struck the most intense deconstruction of the Hawksian ‘teamwork and community’ value, and while in the films all the characters (it is a rare all-men film) were at least shown to be reasonably courageous and willing to get their hands on problems, Carpenter questioned whether the idealistic belief of ‘working together to a good end’ would break down.

Many critics also believed that Carpenter’s film, like Hawks’ older version, addressed the cultural concerns of his era, albeit with different emphasis. In Hawks’ version, he was illustrating the paranoia of the political climate in the 1950s –  the Communist paranoia and so on. In Carpenter’s version, he was addressing a pathological transformation of the individualism back in the 1970s – people became more self-interested, self indulgent and willing to strive for personal gain, and falsely asserted this is a sort of individualism. Any senses of group or community, or the pledge of co-operation or collaboration, were merely appearance. Everyone wanted to be number one, and they had to shoot someone from the back – indeed the taboo of classical Western film. ‘The Thing’ was delivering a possible vision that everyone was so alone with themselves that they would be no beneficial relationships with others around, and the only interaction possible was mistrust and paranoia.


Let’s now focus on the visual aspects. Carpenter, while famously known as a great director for the Horror genre, has a stunning gift for cinematic composition. I believe this is an aspect being overlooked by much audience because they often place their focus on the thrilling aspect of Carpenter’s work. While the theme of his films is often about the horror both inside and outside of humanity, the cinematic images from Carpenter’s widescreen films can be of a tremendous beauty, and his unique vision regarding the composition of cinematic images also addresses the themes he often tried to convey through his films. This aspect is particularly illustrated in ‘The Thing’, making it one of Carpenter’s signature films.

While Carpenter preferred the use of anamorphic composition, which often gave a nice and photogenic shallow depth of field for the final cinematic image, he often made efforts to stage the set so that everything in the frame is in sharp focus. While he tended to emphasize the horizontal vista in the wide screen, the composition is often sparse and not filled with a lot of details and people, as opposed to the original intention of widescreen films – to show epics and large scale activities. It afforded a sort of emptiness in a vast area.


Carpenter’s composition relied on a lot of claustrophobic framing, in contrast with the widescreen scope format he always preferred to employ. He also did a lot of nice close-up shots of the character’s faces – an attribute which was advantageous for anamorphic telephoto lenses, and the shots were held so tight on the faces that they provided an intense atmosphere for the narrative. Ennio Morricone’s sparse and minimalist score also contributed a lot to the atmosphere – the notes were so simple that nihilism could be detected, yet it was warning us that the truth was so deep that there was always something beyond surface appearance.

It was also noted that Carpenter has used another of his favorite camera techniques – a subjective, point of view and mobile camera (in some cases, a Steadicam). What was interesting and quite frightening was that this point of view belonged to none of the characters. It therefore seemed like a ghostly vision, exploring around the complex the men lived in, ready to stalk on any unlucky victims. 


I feel that Carpenter's visual approach served a number of purposes in terms of addressing his theme. First, this type of antagonistic composition generated a very high contrast feel for the audience, and the visual impact would defy expectations from the audience, and generate tensions both in the scenes and the audience alike. Second, these arrangements illustrated the fact one could not see things from the surface. Indeed, the whole point of the film was about the sad fact that you could not figure out who was The Thing and who was not, including the fact that you have become the monster. The idea that a different arrangement would lead to a different impression from the audience would induce fear and urged the audience to look beyond the appearance. When two faces are held very close in a shot, it could suggest intimate and heart-to-heart relationships, yet it could just be a very tight face off. When audience expected a lively environment from the vista provided by widescreen, all they saw were snow and lifelessness. Carpenter has successfully staged effective scenes and used innovative photographic style to generate unease from the audience, even before they encountered The Thing. Finally, the preference to stage in depths would illustrate the power struggle between different parties, and it was quite like the cowboy films, and The Thing has clearly drawn influences from the Western genre. This would certainly increase the tension in these scenes.

To be continued!

(1/2)

by Ed Law
16/12/2017

Film Analysis


Star Wars, Part 1


With the release of ‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’ this week, this year also marks the 40th anniversary of the very first ‘Star Wars’ (1977) film. Through all my articles I have mentioned about ‘Star Wars’ in many occasions, and it should not be surprising because it is such a landmark film that has changed the way we look at films ever since, and its influence on subsequent films and pop culture is very evident. This time, it will be great for me to experience the Force with you. I feel that the greatest way to do this is to see the many connections this great film has with the other great works in cinema, and where ‘Star Wars’ stands in the cinematic universe.

Star Wars could be seen as a sublimation of the many great work that has influenced George Lucas when he was young. When he said he was inspired by the Flash Gordon series and other pop culture, he was also particularly influenced by Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai, Yojimbo and The Hidden Fortress. For the latter film, the 2 underdogs that helped Princess Yuki and the general was certainly the inspirations for C3PO and R2D2, and Princess Leia was influenced by the Japanese princess. In terms of the theme and visual aspect, the film was also influenced by John Ford's The Searchers, David Lean' s Lawrence of Arabia, Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather, Stanley Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey, and other films. Of course, the most important aspect was from the imaginative mind of George Lucas, his dream of constructing an epic space opera, and to deliver a sense of universal humanism to the audience through his many interesting characters.

The theme of Star Wars address a Kurosawan theme that has become very iconic the master apprentice relationships, and the passing on if knowledge and wisdom. The idea of Jedi Knight was very much inspired by Samurai culture, and the Jedi's code of morality was analogous to Bushido itself. The Force of the Jedi is the order, the Tao of the warriors from space. Generations of Jedi pass on their knowledge and skills to the younger apprentice (the Padawans), yet at the same time, they passed their wisdom and a moral outlook to them. Of course, the conflict of the story itself came at a point when this idealistic outlook went wrong . The idea of samurai clan itself, as I have said before in Harakiri, was that a loyalty to the clan was to be expected, and a sense of community was also the norm. The Jedi Knights followed this modus operandi, if they were willing to commit to this moral existence and stuck to the code of ethics demanded by the Jedi council. Yet, a sense of individualism could often raise issues, especially when it led to the direction of the Dark Force. Thus, for the Jedi Knights, they are likely experiencing a ‘giri versus ninjo’ conflict – the contradiction between instinct and duty. When Obi-Wan knew that Anakin Skywalker has turned to the dark force, did he have the duty to eliminate Anakin, or were there still any compassion to this young man? When Luke Skywalker finally confirmed that Darth Vader (Anakin Skywalker) was really his dad (yes that is a pretty hard fact to swallow), as a Jedi, did Luke have the responsibility to wipe this ultimate evil out for good, or, if Luke saw it a chance to reconcile with his long lost father, he might be lured to the dark side. We, like the characters in the ‘Star Wars’, have to face these many dark aspects throughout our lives. I feel that Lucas was trying to say that everyone would have a dark side and so possessed their dark secrets, yet the big question was to balance out and control this inherent contradiction, and directed oneself to the constructive and righteous directions in one’s life.

Even more, the idea of Jedi reminds me of an older trilogy – Hiroshi Inagaki’s ‘Musashi Miyamoto’. The young Musashi Miyamoto, portrayed by Toshiro Mifune, was quite similar to the immature Jedis. Musashi had courage, he had the basic sword-fighting skills and some battle experience, yet he was a rowdy and mean man, who was urged on success and winning fights. He was driven by an animalistic sense of instinct, and was seen as something of a wild beast. Only when he understood the Tao of swordsmanship, and grasped the philosophy behind these ideas, he became in control of himself, and he became a refined and respectable swordsman. The code of rectitude would guide his direction in life, and this was very similar to all the Star War films. One can argue that the three series of trilogy were all about such a process, though there was a twist in Episode 1 to 3: this was the opposite direction, about how a young man with potential has become the icon of evil itself.

If the above paragraphs appear as a guide book of how to be a great guy or someone admirable, then I guess the following section is about the other way around – how to be the most despicable horny little devil in any possible world. Darth Vader, our Mr. Evil in the film, has been compared numerous times to Michael Corleone, the head of the crime family in The Godfather, brilliantly delivered by Al Pacino. To be honest, Darth Vader and Michael have competed for the top place so many times in any lists of All Time Bad Movie Characters List. One should not be too surprised that these two characters are most related than one may imagine. Francis Ford Coppola, director for ‘The Godfather’, has been a mentor for George Lucas, and they have collaborated on a number of films before and after ‘Star Wars’. Thus, Lucas may have drawn influence from the saga of the Corleone crime family, and if one looks into the plot, there are quite a number of parallels between the sci-fi classic and the crime epic.

The first aspect is, both Darth Vader and Michael Corleone seemed to follow a very similar life trajectory. For ‘The Godfather’, though anyone will absolutely bow down to Marlon Brando’s stunning portrayal of Vito Corleone, can also appreciate that the whole trilogy can be considered as the life story of Michael Corleone, his rise and fall, and his achievements and regrets. If we are brave enough to take this further, then the first six episodes as a whole is the life story of Anakin Skywalker-Darth Vader, as he can be considered the only major character where a narrative emphasis has been placed for all the six films.

Both men have very similar personalities, and in a sense it shaped the fate that they would encounter. Both Anakin and Michael are very confident and egotistical individuals, and they have shown tremendous intelligence and potential when at a young age. Their mentors – Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master Yoda, or Don Vito Corleone – all have the strong beliefs they would become powerful individuals, that could self-actualize themselves and have a good control of their destinies. Yet, both Anakin and Michael have been tempted by evil, and they could not conquer their dark sides. Their obsessions for success and power have out-matched their good and positive nature. Their over-confidence urged them to do whatever they wanted, no matter what sort of cost or destruction it would eventually lead to for their families or universe.

When they were consumed by their evil sides, they were already going too far, and the consequences started to bite back on them. Michael was so obsessed with stabilizing his power and eliminating his opponents and the traitors in the family that he eventually assassinated his younger brother, Fredo, and it has led to tremendous regret for the rest of his life. His wife, Kay, chose to distance from him and eventually made him the most lonesome existence. When Anakin Skywalker has become Darth Vader, no matter how evil he has transformed into, there are still emotional demands he has to address to. While I would in no way consider Vader and Michael’s actions as justified or moral, I start to get more sympathetic about their situations. I believe that Coppola and Lucas devised these characters not because they merely wanted to break all-time records of unleashing the ultimate a-holes, but they wanted us to think about why these characters existed, and how they could reach such a nasty situation. When Michael has killed Fredo and sat alone in the room and contemplated, his facial expressions of regret was genuine – he could never imagine he would do that. At the shocking revelation of ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ – I understand from the older generations it was a genuine shock for them back in 1980, some sort of a turning point for them when they looked at the story – I feel that Darth Vader at that very moment was genuine, not being a hypocrite like the opportunist known as Palpatine.  ‘I am your father’ from ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ was as desperate as a plea as ‘Let’s go home, Debbie’, said by Ethan Edwards in ‘The Searchers’. It was a cry from the dark literally, a need for love and compassion. Darth Vader has been portrayed as rather distant and cold in Episode 4, which I think was deliberate to illustrate such a turning point, and behind the black mask was just someone consumed by regret as much as evil. Thus for both Anakin and Michael, they had a common need to balance out their responsibilities for whom they cared and addressed to their demands of his darker side, yet they unfortunately failed to make wise choices.


Both men would eventually ask for redemption. Darth Vader sacrificed himself for his son, and his unmasking symbolized there were still some goodness in him no matter how evil he has once become. Michael Corleone eventually lost his daughter, someone he really cared, as if karma has come to punish him for what he has done. After all, both their stories had a tragic and fatalistic element – because while they might have enough freedom to avoid themselves from falling into the trap, they became the monsters because they could not appreciate or escape the clutches of their darkest horizons. Things, after all, are often beyond our control, yet we still have to possess the wisdom and perseverance to make choices we will not come back to regret. Then, you will have the Force with you, whichever universe you are in!!

(1/2)

by Ed Law
15/12/2017

Film Analysis


Sunday, 10 December 2017

Sleuth, Part 2


An aspect that has pointed out by many reviews regarding Mankiewicz’s work was the emphasis of ‘life as performance’. Indeed, in Mankiewicz’s most famous film, ‘All About Eve’, the plot was about the female protagonist trying to intrude and impersonate a big star’s life and her belongings, when she acted as an assistant to the big star. It seemed to strike a parallel to the scenario in ‘Sleuth’. Andrew and Milo belonged to 2 different worlds, and Milo, working hard all his life, wanted to improve his social status, and that eventually led to a conflict when he attempted to steal Andrew’s wife. In Eve’s case, she was using all sort of craftiness to steal the possessions and lifestyle from the big star, and she was no more than a performer acting as someone else’s life. The irony in the story was that even if Eve has succeeded to become a big star herself, another woman came to be her assistant, and was ready to repeat exactly the same thing again on Eve. Just like in ‘Sleuth’, the destructive cycle would not stop if no one was willing to step up and stop it once and for all.

In the case of Sleuth, both Andrew and Milo have been satirized for their pretentiousness, because other than their theatrical and playful behaviors throughout the films, they were committed to show others that they were high-cultured and civilized. Andrew’s artful attitude might seem to make him look well bred and blue-blooded, as his infidelity and contempt towards his wife meant that he did not feel any real love or concern, and he viewed Milo’s stealing of his wife as if Milo was taking away his possessions, like any of his dolls around the house. He was a man of the interior – because he was committed to stay in this comfort zone, and assumed a higher status than any common people he looked down on.


 In Milo’s case, his behaviors were portrayed in a more simplistic manner, and that seemed to fit in the stereotype his characters were illustrating. A comical part was that Milo’s parents, who were Italian immigrants,  changed their surname from Tindolini (an Italian surname) to Tindle because they wanted to make that sound more British and fit better to the community   - and Andrew immediately retorted, ‘you cannot become English’. Then, for his salon, Milo changed the name to ‘Tindolini’ again, because as Andrew observed, ‘English too wholesome for the ladies.’ One can see things are just so nominal, and there are no beliefs people can hold up to all the times. Beliefs are changed accordingly to fit into the purpose that will lead to the best outcome for the individual, people merely perform in the appropriate way to lead to the most reward for themselves. I suppose why Mankiewicz would be interested in this project is not only it had a great potential for staging an interior mise-en-scene, the message also fitted his visions expressed in many of his other films.


One can see that both characters were concerned about surface and appearance, yet the morality and motivations they have could not stand up to the status they tried to convince others they were. Much like in Eve’s case, they were just performing roles they desired in their cinematic existences.


Mankiewicz and Shaffer were very fair about the two characters. They did not stage a ‘good-versus-evil’ situation in ‘Sleuth’. The plot was approached in a rather objective way. Yet, I feel that the actions and quotes from Andrew reflected more about the sort of personality he was, and for Milo, as I have said before, he was portrayed in a more simplistic manner. I believe the reason was because the film was trying to address the cultural concerns of its era - the 1970s, therefore Milo, who was the underdog in the story, was portrayed in a more sympathetic manner and the posh Andrew was portrayed as more snobbish and old-fashioned. Let’s look a bit closer to the two characters. 

I feel that Andrew should be seen as a tragic (it would not be too ridiculous to call him a Shakespearean character, and Lord Olivier was of course a fantastic Shakespearean actor himself) rather than an evil character. Because, at least, his only intention was to humiliate Milo rather than causing any harm worse than that, if his perceived plans worked as the way he wanted. Yet, his character flaws were very much the reasons why he would arrive at such a tragic end.


But if there was a reason that led to both characters’ destruction, it was pride. I guess what Mankiewicz was trying to drive at was to say that whatever decisions one may feel good for himself/herself, it will likely have undesirable consequences for others – a double-win scenario is often not possible, because our nature dictates us to get everything for ourselves. Milo and Andrew, no matter how they pretended to be civilized and reasonable towards each other, had very fundamental differences and contradictions that would guarantee both of them to lock in this mode of mortal combat. While on the surface it was like a class struggle between two men from very different backgrounds, they both desired to win and outwit the others because of their own pride. Andrew, on the one hand, wanted to show Milo he was a man of a higher step on the social ladder and would not allow a ‘jump-up pantry boy’ like Milo to steal his trophy wife from himself. Milo, who came from a humble background, has strived hard himself to improve his social status and he felt that he deserved everything he got nowadays. He just wanted respect and acknowledgment from someone like Andrew, and he wanted to defeat Andrew, a writer of best-seller mystery novels, by beating him intellectually. Both men had loads of hubris to fuel their drives to compete with each other in the mind game, and they just did not know when to stop.

Both men were giving up anything they could in order to win the game of death. When Andrew was tricked by Milo’s Inspector Doppler, followed by Milo’s fabricated game on Tea’s murder, everything was even and Andrew had every good reason to stop the process, if he was an open-minded person. Both men have already outwitted each other once, and have proven their intellectual power to the other. They certainly had the required wisdom to settle everything towards a more peaceful and happy ending. But, that did not happen. Andrew was indeed ashamed that he has been so thoroughly outwitted by such a young underdog that he was desperate for revenge and wanted to defeat Milo once and for all. For the whole film, the two men were just playing with deceptions and fabrications – they were merely performers for rounds and rounds of theater they have been writing for themselves. When Andrew loaded real bullets into his revolver, that was the end of the game. It was pride, just like the other characters in Mankiewicz’s cinema, which has driven Andrew to cast a wrong move in the chess game of his life.

Milo won the game by the most chilling manner – through his own death. When Milo was dying and laughing at Andrew’s impulsiveness, Andrew could not help but starred blankly at the all the mechanical dolls that have been activated by Milo to attract the police’s attention. Life starts and prospers with performance, and ends with artifice. Then, it is time for the Fade Out.

-End-

(2/2)

Next time:

by Ed Law
10/12/2017

Film Analysis


Saturday, 9 December 2017

Sleuth, Part 1

Mike and Larry: Milo (Michael Caine) and Andrew (Laurence Olivier) in 'Sleuth'.

Is there a thin line between farce and reality? Can a game be going too far? When you are locked in a Game of Death (hope you still have life to finish this article), will you be like King Charles the First, keeping your dignity as you mount the step to the scaffold? When is the moment when performance ends and reality starts? The most thrilling encounter is likely the moment when two individuals lock in a battle neither can easily turn away from, and this is the theme of the film I talk about this time – ‘Sleuth’ (1972) !!

‘Sleuth’ was the last film directed by the American director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who was the director for classic Hollywood films like ‘All About Eve’, ‘Barefoot Contessa’, and ‘Cleopatra’. The film was based on Anthony Shaffer’s play, which won a Tony award; and starred two legendary British actors – Lord Laurence Olivier and Sir Michael Caine. If there is something ‘Sleuth’ could be proud of, it would be that the film made ‘The Godfather’ (by Francis Ford Coppola) have a run for the money. Both films competed for the Oscars in a number of the common categories 1972, though eventually Marlon Brando won the Best Actor for The Godfather, and Bob Fosse defeated both Mankiewicz and Coppola in the Director category. Ironically, Lord Olivier has been offered the chance to star as the Godfather because Brando finally took the place.

My personal feeling about ‘Sleuth’ is that it is a curious blend of a comedy (albeit a very black one) and thriller. The dialogues throughout the film are tongue-in-cheek, or facetious (as Inspector Doppler would have put it), yet at the same time, the heavily dialogue-driven film was also very tense, and surprises and table-turning moments could just appear at any time. The cinematic version of Sleuth was quite alienating for most viewers – which I believe was deliberate by the director – because the dialogues just went on and on like a non-stop motor, and though they were beautifully written and full of witticism, it could be quite harsh for the audience. The presence of the complicated sets and the various mechanical dolls, accompanied by the eerie sound, also generated an unsettling atmosphere for the audience. It is a very rare instance I can find a film both comedic and thrilling at the same time. Indeed, a similar aspect between ‘Sleuth’ and ‘The Godfather’ was that both films relied on very strong performance and a dialogue-driven screenplay to make the films work, and at the same time these considerations did not undermine the visual and technical aspects of the films.

A comment regarding spoilers. From now on the article will be loaded with spoilers, and it is important for ‘Sleuth’ because there are a few important twists in the story. It will be great if you can experience it first hand – though the story itself is not that of a secret if you look at the internet. Also, it is an extremely dialogue-driven film, and it is so intense in terms of dialogue that some viewers may be alienated by it. Yet, the dialogue is an important aspect of the film, and probably the film’s strength because they are so witty, dynamic and facetious. Sleuth is a film that rewards repeated viewing, as when you watch this great film again, you will be able to appreciate the cleverness of the plot and also the brilliant dialogues from Mankiewicz and Shaffer.

Sleuth is special because the film only has two characters – the other names on the cast are fake and are used to mislead the audience. The two characters interact for almost 140 minutes predominantly inside a house, and the claustrophobic and suspenseful atmosphere of their games generate a sort of unsettling and thrilling impression for the audience. The absolutely brilliant performance from Lord Laurence Olivier and Sir Michael Caine was one of a kind and that represented one of the most spectacular encounters between two legendary actors.

The story concerned Andrew Wyke (Olivier), a rich mystery novel writer; and his love rival, Milo Tindle (Caine), a hairdresser who had a salon. Andrew was aware of the fact that Milo was dating his wife, Marguerite, and after sending her and the servant out for a holiday, Andrew invited Milo to his manor to settle things out. Andrew seemed to offer a friendly hand to Milo, and suggested that Milo should commit a fake burglary, to steal Andrew’s jewelry and valuables from the safe in the house, so that Milo could have the money to support his life with Marguerite, and Andrew could claim the insurance and settle himself with his mistress, a girl called Tea. Milo agreed to the plan. After the burglary, Andrew exposed his true face – it was a trap for Milo. Andrew pulled a revolver and explained to Milo that he wanted and humiliate and kill him because he was pissed off with Milo stealing his wife. Milo begged for mercy, yet Andrew pulled the trigger anyway – and apparently killed Milo. Of course, that is only a trick. Andrew used blanks, so he did not really kill him. His intention was only to humiliate Milo and made him embarrassed.

In the next evening, things started to go wrong. A policeman known as ‘Inspector Doppler’ visited Andrew and stated that the police suspected that Andrew was responsible for the disappearance of Milo and his alleged murder. Andrew desperately explained to the Inspector his charade, and maintained that Milo did not die and has been sent away safely. Yet, Inspector Doppler found out more and more evidence around the manor, pointing to the conclusion that Andrew has killed Milo. At the point Doppler was going to arrest the helpless Andrew, a twist appeared! Inspector Doppler revealed himself to be no one other than Milo himself (so the films only consisted of 2 characters), and all those evidences were planted by him. While Andrew acknowledged Milo’s wit, Milo were not finished with it yet. He wanted to play with Andrew a game he coined a ‘real murder’. Milo told Andrew that he has killed Tea, and he has placed evidences around Andrew’s manor so that the police would likely confirm Andrew as the suspect. When Andrew has confirmed that Tea was indeed murdered through the phone, he was forced to play the game by solving Milo’s riddles. After Andrew has disposed of all the evidence, Milo exposed the twist – everything was fake and Tea was still alive, the game was a plan by Milo and Tea, who wanted to come back at Andrew’s meanness. Milo said he has got even with Andrew and planned to leave the manor.

Andrew, however, would not let this go. He loaded his revolver his real bullets, and said he wanted to kill Milo this time for real. Milo warned Andrew that he did anticipate such a possibility and so has already called the police. Thinking that Milo was lying, Andrew killed Milo with the revolver. Then, the sirens of the police cars could be heard outside the manor, as Milo did indeed call the police. As the helpless Andrew waited for his own destruction, the dying Milo told him, ‘Andrew – be sure to tell them – it’s all a bloody game.’  

Joseph L. Mankiewicz, a key filmmaker from the golden age of Hollywood, has devised a very unique style to his cinema. First, his films were often described as ‘theatrical’ – some French critics termed them as ‘théatre du filmé’. In a Mankiewicz film, it was often noted for the spectacular performance from the key actors. In ‘Sleuth’, this was particularly evident because the 2 lead actors were using a mannerist style of acting, and their actions and dialogues reflected the social status and personalities they had.

Mankiewicz was known as a director of the interior. His films were predominantly taking place in interior space, such as a house, a room, or a private space, rather than out in the open, like the Film Noir or Western popular at his times. With a gift for screenwriting and direction, Mankiewicz often provided atmospheric and dramatic narratives in these limited spaces, and his interior mise-en-scene often reflected the mental landscape and interior life of his characters. In Sleuth, the fact that the 2 characters were matching wits inside the house generated a claustrophobic feel for audience alike. The maze-like manor also signified the unpredictable and deceptive attitude by both characters,  and the preponderance of all sort of mechanical dolls not only generated a paranoid and uncanny atmosphere, it also emphasized the playfulness and artifice of the whole situation.

On the other hand, Mankiewicz was often seen as a woman’s director, as his films were mostly about a female protagonist or concentrated on a female character. While ‘Sleuth’ was special because it was concerned with two male characters, the motives behind their every action were about a woman they both wanted to get to themselves.

It is worth noting that while Mankiewicz’s ‘Sleuth’ is ‘theatrical’, he has also employed very cinematic means to achieve a dramatic effect on the screen. In the film, he has employed very stunning long takes and tracking shots to let the audience convey the space of Andrew’s manor. This is a significant point because, for such a dialogue-driven film, you can literally deliver it out without any form of set design – which is an approach in some styles of theater (e.g. Theater of the Absurd) – and the non-visual dialogue itself will be able to attract a sustained attention from the audience. Mankiewicz has placed emphasis on mise-en-scene in his many films. In his version of Sleuth, Mankiewicz has placed emphasis on a complicated set, and in no way this set would lead to a comfortable and homey impression for the audience. It seemed more like a decaying maze, and the movement and gestures of the two characters became as critical and tight of a chess move. Their movements around the house reflected the continuing and ever shifting power struggle between the two sides, and whatever room they entered, the topic of their conversations would address to the nature of that interior space – private talk in bedroom, bargaining in the game room, charade in the attic. The alienating set and movement reflected the unknowable motives behind the two characters, and how the table could be turned at any instance in this game of death. In terms of cinematography, Mankiewicz shot everything by an old-school approach, using deep focus for most of the scenes, playing out sharply the tug-of-war for control between the 2 characters.

The French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, through his studies of cinematic signs, have designated Mankiewicz’s films as an example of the time image (recollection image), and called Mankiewicz the ‘greatest flashback auteur’. The use of flashback or recollection sequences can be considered important for his films, because they often made sense of the motivations of why the characters in question made a certain decision that would lead to consequences of all kinds. While in Sleuth there were no genuine flashback sequences, there were substantial amount of the narrative where the characters were engaging memories or some form of recollections (though the latter ones could be fabrications, as in Andrew’s case when he faced ‘Inspector Doppler’). I feel that a tragic aspect of Andrew’s situation was that he could not move on from his past, for which at a time he was the winner of his game, and he became over nostalgic on that, and treasuring only the good old days. He could not come to terms that his younger rival, Milo, was more intelligent, charismatic and resourceful than he was, and Andrew could only rely on his outdated racial stereotyping and prejudice to make himself feel a bit better. Andrew wanted desperately to win in this game - yet Milo was too much of a formidable opponent for him.

‘Sleuth’ clearly illustrated the concept of ‘The Double’ often found in many films and literature, and this concept was also evident in the case of the story structure.  The story is deliberately separated into 2 parts, and one can easily see that the two parts follow very much the same plot – the first time Andrew outwitting Milo, the second time the other way round.  If we set our focus on Andrew’s point of view (which I guess it may be underlying motivation on Mankiewicz’s side), you can also see the whole film is the ‘Rise-and-Fall’ story of Andrew, who believed his intelligence and status deserved a triumph over his love rival. The first part is Andrew’s Rise, to his successful humiliation of Milo, and the second part is obviously his Fall, how he got doubly-outwitted and eventually was provoked to commit a true crime. As I have said before, a story with a over-formalized structure or too many coincidences will likely attract criticism, because it may be seen as a lack of creative input from the author and also a lack of spontaneity in terms of the dramatic action. Yet, the ‘double’ structure in ‘Sleuth’ served the purpose well, because it illustrated the tragic dimension of the story itself – if none of the two men were willing to stop the destructive engine of play and deception, things would repeat itself – only with a more disastrous outcome.

(1/2)

by Ed Law
9/12/2017

Film Analysis


Monday, 4 December 2017

Harakiri, Part 2


Celebrating the 55th Anniversary of Harakiri (1962)

Last time, I have started discussing Masaki Kobayashi and his masterpiece, Harakiri (Seppuku, 1962). The story of the courageous and lone samurai, Hanshiro Tsugumo, and his attempt to avenge for and regain his family’s honor by exposing the hypocrisy of the samurai clan, House of Iyi, serves as one of the most inspiring story regarding the power of individual in the history of cinema. The major themes in ‘Harakiri’ are about the individual’s place in an amoral universe; the contempt for the corruption of power and establishment; and the hope for ultimate freedom.

Kobayashi has adopted a formalized approach regarding the mise-en-scene of ‘Harakiri’. The geometric composition in many scenes stressed the power struggle and containment of individual freedom in the feudal era, and the symmetric and regimented approach to the diverse rooms (the spatial aspect) and human interactions in the House of Iyi illustrated the mechanistic and deterministic actions demanded by the philosophy of the samurai. The use of composition to provide critique on Bushido has also been employed by other directors nicely in the Samurai cinema of 1960s, such as those in Kihachi Okamoto’s anti-Samurai films. When we look at films like ‘The Sword of Doom’ and ‘Samurai Assassins’, the symmetric composition exposed the struggle of individual in the realm of feudal control, and the dehumanizing effects from a set of pre-determined and ritualistic rules.

‘Harakiri’ was also notable for the use of close up to show facial expressions. Especially in ‘Harakiri’, Kobayashi’s use of facial expression has found his true power. These close-up shots are the only time when the characters are showing their true feelings. With such a close-up, the character can no longer hide behind their masks. The humiliation and anger of Hanshiro, the disappointment of Miho, the fright of Omadaka (the swordsman), and the shame of the clan leader. At the key moments, Kobayashi did not let any of these sentiments escape the audience. After, Kobayashi is a committed humanist, and no matter how dehumanized or old-fashioned the characters have come to be, they are all humans after all, and can in no way escape the character traits so evident in humanity.

‘The suspicious mind conjures its own demons.’

The narrative of ‘Harakiri’ not only makes the story suspenseful and intense, it also serves the purpose to illustrate some of the deepest truths regarding human nature and history. 'Harakiri' has been noted for its frequent use of flashbacks, and it also had plenty of ellipsis throughout the film. The presence of ellipsis gave a ‘Rashomonic feel’ to the film, because now it was rather hard for the audience to cast an objective point of view on the whole situation. I suppose Kobayashi did this deliberately, as a satirical critique on truth and history. He seemed to be questioning the audience, who has the power for the final word about the story, and indeed history? Is that the one who has the point, or the one who has the power?

What was rather ironic was the cyclic structure of the film. That suggested even in Hanshiro's perspective, this incident was a significant one - significant that it would have cost his life, the House of Iyi wanted to see it as the most minor perturbation The cyclic s in its order, or the whole Bushido system was concerned. The structure of the story wanted to give the audience an ironic impression that as if nothing has happened at all – House of Iyi wants to undermine the significance of the Hanshiro incident because that will be a big shame.

‘Swordsmanship untested in battle is like the art of swimming mastered on land.’

The House of Iyi, for which Hanshiro was all against, was the abstraction of power and authority in the film. It represented establishment and foundation, and the bureaucratic sides. Also, it represented the 'norm' of the given era, when feudalism and Bushido was still the core values for the people. The bureaucratic aspect meant that the members of the House of Iyi had to work in a mechanistic way, and they could not show much compassion as that would be against the Bushido codes that governed them. They talked in a monotone style, they were matter of fact people, and their words were polished with 'ceremonial' wordings. Their actions were merely to guarantee that everything was working all right, without any infringements to the samurai codes. By contrast, what Hanshiro has said was originated from a genuine emotion. He was able to provide critique on the situation, and was more than willing to question the assumptions behind the House of Iyi’s actions. A stark contrast was effectively established between the two parties – the human, spontaneous Hanshiro and the unsentimental, mechanistic retainers in the House of Iyi.

The most elemental moral dilemma, in many samurai films, is the giri vs ninjo conflict. Giri (義理 ) is a value which corresponded to duty and obligation, in contrast to ninjo (人情), a value which pointed to emotion and human compassion. This contradiction was further amplified in the anti samurai films of the 1960s, which matched the anti establishment and revolutionary mindset of that time. The struggle between giri and ninjo is not something limited to samurai culture, but can find similar scenarios in almost any cultures of humanity - the dialectic between animalistic instinct and institutionalized rationality. Many of these film directors believed that the demands from giri and ninjo could often not be reconciled in many cases - meaning that there will be a cost no matter which sides you take. The mechanical rules dictated by Bushido could be dehumanizing and stifling for the personal freedom of individuals. These rules could be dehumanizing because they employ noble ‘sound bites’ which are ultimately empty statements.

‘I clung to these useless symbols’

The chilling aspect of these codes was that it could serve a synergistic relationship with the institutional control, especially one based on a hierarchical structure, such as the feudal society as illustrated in the film, and one should not be surprised that rules itself treasured utmost loyalty. What it seemed as a commitment to a set of formalized codes at the surface could just be the assertion of power by the ruling class in reality. The codes have to be complemented and made concrete by the use of symbols, such as the samurai sword or the special hair knot the samurai had. It would be ridiculous for people in the modern world to see how these material things could impact the life of the people, and how they equated these things to elemental concepts like honor. When you lose a sword that means you have lost your honor and will have to commit hara-kiri to redeem yourself - absolutely outrageous logic for nowadays. When the senior in the House of You asked Motome how he could pawn his sword to allow himself and his family to survive, because the sword symbolized the soul of the samurai, one can see how inconsiderate this senior is. Maybe he was just being mean and mocked Motome for his action, yet it could also mean the House has become so bureaucratic and dehumanized through their execution of the Bushido codes.

I have stressed repeatedly in the last article that there is nothing fundamentally wrong about the core values Bushido represented. In fact, if one is willing to commit to it, that can have an enlightening effect and make one more confident and a better person. What is essential, though, is to appreciate why these codes existed in the first place (I can see a similarity in the case of Confucian philosophy in Chinese culture) and the context where these codes may be misused and how that can lead to a lower personal freedom and dignity.  What it means to be enlightened, after all, is not just to embrace blindly a theory or postulate, but you have the ability and question or provide critique on it, to dig deeper and discover the possible limits...

‘This thing we call samurai honor is ultimately nothing but a façade.’

The most important symbolism in the film was the samurai statue, which has appeared a number of times, including the opening and closing shot for the film. The incidents that have been happened to the statue through the film, and the actions taken to restore the statue matched nicely with the cyclic nature of the story. The statue represented the history and legacy of the House of Iyi, and it embodied the rules of Bushido that governed and established the existence of the House of Iyi. That explained why before Hanshiro committed hara-kiri before he has defeated most of the retainers in the House of You, he threw off the samurai statue, as an ultimate stand off to the establishment and the values the statue represented. After Hanshiro died, the irony was that the members in the House merely cleaned up the mess and the blood stains, and erected the fallen statue again, at the same time fabricated the feel good version of the story that they were still the winner in the struggle against the lone samurai.

The gist regarding the symbol of the statue is that it is hollow. The hollowness symbolized the inherent emptiness of the Bushido rules. No matter how idealistic or enlightening the rules might afford, someone has to be committed to ‘fit in’ to give its meanings. If the powerful ones distorted the meanings of the rules to merely assert their positions, the ideas and rules itself would lose its meanings, and they become tools - blank statements that could not be enacted. The members in the House of Iyi, while being proud of their prestigious status in the samurai community, were not capable of committing to these rules. Because they could not come to terms that there was a ‘fallen’ samurai, who they thought was of a lower status than them, could defeat the retainers in the House and was also nobler as a human being than themselves. The members in the House could only restore their confidence and honor by covering up the whole incident, and distorting what really has happened in that fateful day. They were so desperate to assert their prestige through deception to the later generations, because they were so ashamed of the awful truth that has occurred to them.

‘What befalls others today, may be your own fate tomorrow.’

The emptiness of the samurai statue also reflected the ephemeral existence of the House of Iyi, and it was atmospheric to the presence of some unexplained smoke at the scene of the statue. It was evident that the House of Iyi did not exist due to a moral or universal reason, but it only prospered in the circumstantial way, when the given era endorsed the Bushido culture. It was ironic to hear at the end of the film that when the senior attempted to distort history in the book for the House, he stated that he believed the House of Iyi would continue to exist for the many years to come. Of course, the reality is the other way around – the samurai clans were abolished by the end of the 19th century, when a modernized Japan was born.  The ‘success story’ of the House of Iyi was a circumstantial and superficial one, and it could not inspire any later generations in a positive way. Only an individual with genuine honor has the ability to do so.

‘The greatest delicacies taste of nothing when one dines alone.’


After all, what does honor truly mean? First, it is not merely a barrage of blank statements. If one believes that by adopting to a set of empty rules without questioning their meanings, these individual are robots, not honorable persons. You have to commit and take action to be honorable. No matter how good you can recite out every rules you can remember, it will not work if you are not committed to these rules. The most challenging aspect, though, is to maintain a sense of individualism, even when the others fail to deliver or does not have the courage to do so. Some viewers may see Hanshiro’s action as foolish, because no matter what he did, he would not be able to abolish the samurai era and change his world. If he did not raise voices about the situation, he could still have other ways to survive. After all, Hanshiro was one of the only characters in the film who was willing to commit to what he has said – when he said he would commit hara-kiri, he really did it, rather than like the 2 other samurais in the House of Iyi, who ran away and hide after they have lost the duels to Hanshiro. The suicide decision was Hanshiro’s individual choice, no matter you agreed to that or not, it was still respectable. The reason why Hanshiro was a noble individual, even if his House has fallen long ago and he became a ronin, was because he was willing to stand up to the unfairness and problems the Bushido culture has led to, and has the courage to deconstruct the gaps in the logic behind Bushido. He refused to be dehumanized by the social / cultural machine and asserted his individualism in a world when loyalty and a fake sense of ‘community’ and ‘group work’ was stressed. I see Hanshiro as a heroic and honorable figure because he addressed the saying of ‘dying on our feet rather than living on our knees’. The very fact that Hanshiro stood firm to his beliefs at all costs was what made him such a memorable character, and ‘Harakiri’ (1962) a modern classic in Asian cinema.

-End-

(2/2)

by Ed Law
4/12/2017

Film Analysis


Sunday, 26 November 2017

法國新浪潮攝影展 (Photo de Cinéma)


我今天去了百老匯電影中心看一個關於法國新浪潮的展覽 。照片雖然是珍貴的歷史印記, 不過展覽規模就真是比較小! 不過, 在電影中心下層有幾間值得看看的店舖, 包括Kubrick書店和餐廳, 喜歡看文史哲書籍的朋友都應該會感興趣 我之前只去過電影中心一次-是在多年前看閃靈的重映!





by Ed Law
26/11/2017

Film Analysis