Sunday, April 20, 2008

Ruminations from My Film Theory Class

(Unprompted Blog Entry #1)

In my film theories class, taught by Professor Wagner, cinema is dealt with as the grand subject of the 20th century. It's kind of hard to think of cinema now as the central pillar of American society, but it once dominated not only American culture but was watched almost by nearly all the people and nations in the world that could afford it. In the 1940's, right before and after WWII was when cinema spectatorship in America peaked, attracting something like 40 million people EVERY WEEK out of the population of 90 million (I don't remember the exact statistic, but I believe it was roughly half the American population). In the 40's, cinema defined culture as much as culture defined cinema.

National ticket sales crashed in the 50's and 60's with the breakup of Hollywood monopolies, the coming of television, and many other reasons. Ticket sales regained some ground in the 70's and have been relatively constant in recent years, but nothing near the glory of the golden years.



Our homework mainly consists of reading the major film theorists of the last 100 years. Many theorists think of cinema as an educational tool, not in the sense of multiplication tables but cinema teaches people how to behave and how to "be" people. Think of it for a second, when we include the other media forms--such as TV and the internet--that all serve the singular purpose that cinema used to hold, that of mass entertainment, you begin to realize how much media has affected your perceptions of the world and personal identity. Think of the major events that happen in your life: forming and maintaining friendships and romantic relationships, working at a job, traumatic events such as national or natural disasters or the loss of someone close ... As people, we probably experienced all these things maybe hundreds of times on TV and movies before we experienced them in real life. It becomes obvious that media influences every aspect of our lives, maybe even more than our experiences in real life. I guess that's why contemporary American society is often called a media society.

In lecture, Prof. Wagner stated that it was cinema that taught people how to deal with the mass of sensory stimuli that we now navigate so easily. It was cinema that first bombarded people's senses with tons of visual and audio information, and as people have grown more accustomed to so much stimuli, the cinema has also grown more overflowing with information, mostly through the increased frequency of cutting and enabling technologies in visual and audio special effects. What we now see as ordinary everyday tasks, such as driving fast in heavy traffic, or surfing the internet while listening to music and aiming friends, are really only possible after the education of cinema and other media that have taught us how to deal with such overwhelming amounts of information. In general, people 150 years ago didn't interact with their surroundings in ways that included any where near as much relevant information as we do now.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

There Will Be Blood


(Blog Assignment #3)

There Will Be Blood has been debated incessantly by film critics, academics, cinephiles since it's release four months ago. For this reason, I've decided to skip on titling this blog with some less than clever There Will Be "X". I've now seen the film four times and I position myself squarely on the side declaring that this film is perhaps the best film of the decade. In this entry, I will try to make observations other than the obvious ones that critics are obligated to (amazing performance by Day-Lewis, Anderson is an energetic, virtuosic, postmodern director, etc.) because many readers only read one review.
It seems oil itself is the principle around which Daniel Plainview's identity and the entire film revolves around. At it's simplest, oil is worth a lot of money and is very volatile. Put in a little family drama and that's the most succinct description possible of There Will Be Blood. A related and most obvious symbol that I have not seen mentioned is the phallic significance of the structures that mine the oil. These towers feed Plainview's greed and inflate his masculinity to the point that he loses sight of everything else.
Two other motifs that structure the relationships in the film are whiskey and milk, which are emblematic of corruption and nourishment. When Daniel first assumes the role of father to H.W., he pours whiskey on his milk bottle to stop him from crying. Later, after H.W. loses his hearing from an oil explosion, Daniel pours whiskey into a glass of milk and force feeds it into his son's mouth. By the end, Daniel's attitude toward H.W. is full of hatred, but Daniel does seem to show real affection towards him in some scenes.
Liquids in general now seem to be the substance that all of the film's themes are grounded on. The evil of oil, the goodness of milk, the corruption of whiskey, and the purity of water.
One of the greatest moments in the film and one that I've never seen any mention to is when Daniel's assistant, Fletcher Hamilton, asks Daniel, "is it true that you're taking Henry to see Union Oil?" Throughout the film, Fletcher is a completely undeveloped character with no insights revealed about his past, thoughts, or emotions. After Daniel discovers he has a "brother" named Henry, Henry begins to assume the role of Daniel's main assistant. With that one line by Fletcher, spoken in an almost pleading voice, an entire world of conflict and emotions are suggested. The camera first frames both Daniel and Fletcher in the shot, but then pans to focus only on Daniel, who ignores Fletcher's question and walks away. This kind of suggestion of other conflicts and scenes without actually showing them adds a great deal of depth and texture to the already dense scenes of the movie.
David Bordwell writes about Anderson's use of staging in this article.