The Fallacies of Lamps

We’ve been working harder than we ever have on our quest for quality content. So far, it’s been mainly successful. I’ve been having a lot of fun filming again; I haven’t been on a set that even resembled anything professional like this since film school. There’s the chain of command and all that crap, and even though not everyone is entirely familiar with the format, at the end of the day we have some good quality footage on our hands.

One of the problems with our first skit was the low sound levels. I believe that when we filmed that one, we used the onboard mic. We have since created a “boom mic” that is working fairly well.

Another problem, and this may be a personal one, is the length of the skit. I fear it doesn’t keep the viewer drawn in. This, too, will be fixed in upcoming skits; they are short and to the point and, in my opinion, very, very funny. I’m in the slow process of editing one, and it isn’t going very quickly only because I forget most of my editing prowess that I had acquired a few years back.

My last point will be on lighting. It is damn hard to light a set if you have all of the appropriate lights. Perhaps I was spoiled, as at school we were given a wide barrage of lights, posts, flags and grip equipment. Now, all we have for a two-point lighting setup is a massive floodlight which “zebra-stripes” everything on the camera, and one touch-to-light table lamp. The results we managed to produce with these truly astound me, and I am proud to say that, if we were given proper lights, we could make one hell of a scene.

A new article will be up soon, as well a new skit.

Take care.

Bayhem Achieved, Boredom Induced, Pt. 2

I propose that the purpose of action in film is to be an addition to the story; in short, to propel the plot forward. If the action in a film would seem out of place in our world, the rules of the world the film is in must be established early on, if not from the onset. If the film is magic realism, which many films nowadays are, then the revelation of that other world must come across organically and not seem a deus ex machina. If the action is meant to be realistic, then it must remain realistic throughout.

When I was seeing “Spiderman 3” in theaters, the scene where Sandman slinks into a dump truck filled with sand in the theater prompted my friend to lean to me and whisper, “Yeah, right. Why would there be a truck full of sand just sitting there?” This prompted me to respond, “You have a problem with that, but not with the fact that a man has the ability to turn into sand at will?” People are willing to suspend their disbelief for things that are beyond them, but if they are familiar with a part of a scene (such as the usual kinds of things being carried by a dump truck in a city) then an audience will brutally tear apart a scene.

No. Mercy.

If a film is to add a touch, or a heap, of the unbelievable, then the filmmakers must be tactful in its unveiling. Much like playwrights assert that if you put a shotgun in your play in act one, you had better use it in act two, everything in an action movie must be inserted into the plot, or at the very least, the world, early on in the movie.

Let me explain. I’m not trying to say that you should allude to every single action sequence within the first couple of minutes of screen time, but that you should explain that certain actions are possible. In “The Matrix”, we learn early on, with the opening Trinity rooftop chase, that we aren’t operating in our own world. The denizens of this strange other world are able to use matter, because they have woken up and realized that nothing in our artificial construct is physical, and therefore is not tangible and able to bend to their whims. When Neo later awakens, we know something is awry, and what awaits him down the rabbit hole, at least on a superficial level. His exploration and inevitable acceptance of it is what makes up the meat of the story.

It is for this reason that the film works so well as an action flick. The action serves a purpose- it is a stimulant for the spiritual journey that the film is ultimately about. When Neo learns to break the bonds of reality, shown by him forgetting the rule of gravity, it isn’t just a nice effect; it his soul being liberated. Even when he flies at the end, it is him pushing the boundaries of his consciousness and proving that he really is The One. We as an audience believe it, because we saw a microcosm of what was in store at the onset of the movie.
“Transformers 2”, on the other hand, breaks its initial rules. When we first see the Transformers, they have crash-landed on earth when man was first venturing out of their caves. Flash-forward to the present, where they are working with the military. They seemingly have the ability to turn into other technologies around them. This is shown when a piece of the All Spark turns Sam’s appliances into (for some reason, completely evil) robots: the vacuum cleaner shoots little missiles, the blender stalks him throughout the kitchen, and all sorts of IKEA-induced bayhem ensue. No where does it state that Transformers have the ability to traverse great portions of the world in mere nanoseconds via teleportation, or that they can AGE. But they do both of these things. (Actually, an aged Transformer teleports… breaking both the rules at once.)

If it had been established at all earlier, we would have believed it. As it stood, the audience was lost in new wonders that seemingly were added because the screenwriters felt it would be cool. They apparently also felt that revisions were for amateurs- they could have easily slipped in a word about it earlier on, but they seemed to be barreling through the screenplay, common sense and rewrites be damned!

It is this kind of deus ex machina- this sudden epiphany to the characters, or something previously unknown coming to save the day- that is my only major fault with “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.”
When Aragorn and his pals are riding to Minas Tirith with the host of Rohan, it looks pretty grim for them. Theoden even states that they will not win the war, but that they will die trying. Aragorn apparently retreats into the mountain, shattering what little morale the soldiers had. If the Rightful King of Gondor has lost all hope, what is there left for them?

We know, of course, that he is not pussying out but rather going to enlist the aid of an army of the dead. Long ago, they betrayed Aragorn’s forefather Isildur and as such are cursed to wander the earth until their debt is repaid.

The point of this scene is to show that Aragorn has accepted his destiny as the King. But these ghosts are not mentioned previously; if you are not familiar with the wider works of Tolkien, you don’t understand where they came from. Are they ghosts of the bodies Frodo saw in the dead marshes in The Two Towers? Are they from the battle at the beginning of Fellowship? No, they are from a separate battle. But we don’t learn that in the film! We don’t even learn about them until mere minutes before they are revealed! And when they do show up to save the day, they are given complete power: like a plague, they sweep over Gondor, pulling down every weapon of the enemy, and swooping through Minas Tirith like a fog, killing every evil being in sight. One has to wonder why Aragorn doesn’t just ask, “Hey, before I set you free, could you guys go kill Sauron for us? Or at least, take the ring from Frodo and drop it into Mount Doom?”

The rules of Middle-Earth had been clearly established beforehand. Even though it is wild and crazy compared to our own, it has a central consistency that is never broken until these ghosts arrive.

In contrast, by the time we get to the could-be-ridiculous ending of “Fight Club”, we are completely willing to believe that a split-personality could arrange a massive terrorist attack on the major credit card corporations of America. The fact that it is even somewhat of an action film is not established until Edward Norton’s imaginings of a penguin in an icy cave and the wall of a plane being pulled from its foundations, every one inside the plane flying out like debris.

He gets into a fistfight with Tyler Durden. They form an underground fight club. They escalate into a terrorist group. Each step, although outlandish, is presented in a concise fashion, giving the audience time to absorb what they are seeing. By the time the major shit hits the fan, the little steps have been established: we believe it could actually be so.

The third way action can be conveyed is in a realistic sense. This not only encapsulates action of an adventure-type sort (i.e., explosions, chases, fights) but also everything that is not dialogue- any type of action. If someone does something which is not consistent with their characterization or their world, such as run when they should walk, it breaks the spell the movie has over us. The action must also, as stated, advance the story- if the plot stops for an action scene, it should not be a scene.

“American History X” has action scenes that fit in with the rest of the story. Skinheads mobbing a grocery store that employs allegedly illegal aliens, or a curb stomp, however barbaric and hard to watch, fits in with the overall feel of the picture, and just feels real- the thugs aren’t perfectly choreographed, they fumble here and there- they seem to be bloodthirsty savages caught up in a mob mentality. They are acting as themselves, even in the action scenes; they are not becoming streamlined, unrealistically strong superbeings who occasionally spit out a one-liner reminding you who they are, they ARE the characters. Action is just as much a part of a film as dialogue- and if done correctly, it can develop a character just as well as a monologue can. “Show, don’t tell” is an old adage I believe in.

Action in films doesn’t have to be detrimental. It can and should push the story forward in a way that is entertaining and indicative to the overall feel of the movie. Even the silliest action movies are best when they have an internal rule book that they follow.

The films that I have listed above negatively are not bad films- “Return of the King” is one of my favourites ever made. Small parts of the action have simply kept them from soaring 100% of the runtime. Films should strive for an equilibrium, a balance of action and dialogue. Very rarely are they given equal due; not just “flashy” action, but any. If a movie allows action to develop as dialogue does, then it is a very good thing indeed.

“Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement.” -Alfred Adler

Update on ATBFT

My conclusion to “Bayhem” will be up in a couple of days. Please, contain your excitement.

As of late, I have been working with the boys from ATBFT on some new material; writing, directing, and acting. There’s going to be an article about us up soon; I’ll post the link when I have it.

I’m rusty… I haven’t worked on a single video since film school a few years back. Getting back into the swing of things is proving to be a lot of fun. I’m pleased with how the videos are turning out already, and I can’t wait to see what we’ll be able to cook up in the future when we get the ball rolling! The style and professionalism will continue to go up from here. So keep your eyes peeled.

The site has recently been updated! Make sure to go on over and see my directorial and writing debut, “Mark Is No Fun, Part One: The Messiah Complex.”

Bayhem Achieved, Boredom Induced, Pt. 1

Imagine that you are eight years old. If you need to, imagine that you are a boy. Someone tells you the plot of the film, “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” as thus: Evil, giant robots from outer space that can turn into tanks and jet planes battle good robots who can turn into trucks and cars alongside the US Army. They teleport all over the planet, and the film ends in a climactic duel on the Great Pyramids. At the age of eight, you’re shitting in your pants- the two and a half hour runtime seems strangely short.

Now, let’s fast-forward to your present age. For the sake of argument, your early twenties. You still have that nostalgic view towards boyish action- dinosaurs, pirates, ninjas, and all that jazz. Yet, while you are watching the aforementioned destruction on screen, you don’t find yourself glued to the screen, cheering every time there’s some new mechanical monstrosity. You don’t even find yourself comfortably numb. You find yourself bored. Not even Megan Fox’s ass can save you from the stupor.

A lot of emotions are understandable. But boredom? At such an orgasm of awesome? Inexcusable.

The title of this article stems from a quote by Canadian author Bruce McCall. Of course, it originally reads, “Mayhem achieved, boredom relieved.” “Bayhem” is a portmanteau of mayhem and Michael Bay. A humorous definition can be found here. I originally thought that it was a derogatory term, passed around by pretentious film school students who wouldn’t dare watch an action movie for fear of coming across mainstream. So imagine my surprise when I looked over the special features on the back of my recently- if not regrettably- purchased Bluray copy of Transformers 2. There, bold as brass, was a documentary on how the filmmakers achieved the bayhem.

I’m not here to rag on Michael Bay. I very much enjoyed the first installment in the Transformers franchise, and I think that most of his films, while not always the most riveting plot-wise, are beautiful to look at- exceptional lighting and top-notch cinematography. They’re no “Seven Years in Tibet,” but they’re pretty good.

I pride myself in being able to keep relatively up to date with all of the newfangled cinematic tricks that bigwig Hollywood producers throw into their products, but the new Transformers made me feel like my grandmother when she watches any part of any movie. I found myself yelling aloud, “Can’t he keep the camera still? I don’t know what’s going on! I can’t figure out where the Transformer starts and the background stops. It’s too loud! What’s going on?”

This brings me to the heart of the matter. How come, in the majority of films, the action seems so blasé and predictable? Why are we not on the edge of our seats at every car chase, every shootout, every fist fight? How is it that we are not in awe every time we see something that we have never seen before? Have we lost touch with a side of humanity that used to be so vital? When weary travelers in the ancient world first saw the pyramids, or the Great Wall, or any form of splendor, they did not simply say, “Oh, cool.” They marveled at its intricacies, wrote songs about it, told tales about it. The ancient Greeks loved tales of chariots, driven by mighty gods. So why don’t we love stories about cars being driven by lowly humans?

I’m not saying action films don’t do well. And I may be alone on my point. But even if you are temporarily in the action, as soon as the scene is over, you have forgotten about it. I know that the majority of action scenes, for me, cannot be over fast enough. They do not progress the story the way dialogue does, and that is unfortunate. There are many ways that action CAN bring the story forward. The first time I saw “The Matrix,” I didn’t know what was going to happen- the action was unique, and the characters were still themselves during fight scenes, not silent, deadly assassins for three minutes of screen time, only to go back to their comedic or sniveling ways afterwards. They had consistency. In “Fight Club,” it was the same thing.

“American History X” shook me up pretty bad- the raid of the grocery store was uncomfortable to watch, as was the infamous curb stomp- an action scene as well as a pivotal point in the film.

When people think “action” they think of Schwarzenegger jumping from a chopper or Diesel igniting the nitro, and the action genre of film is full of just that. But action in film also has another purpose- it is everything that is not dialogue. The director calls, “Action!” before a take. Walking down the stairs is action; talking on the phone is dialogue. In film, you need a lot more action than you would on the stage. Shakespeare got away with mostly dialogue, with obvious reason. Today’s filmmakers often lack the finesse of the theatrical script, and if they attempt too much talking then it turns into page after page of expository dialogue or a bad Tarantino film. What to fill the void?

Action. But normal, everyday actions, even ones within the realm of whichever reality the film is based in, seem too mundane, so why not add in an explosion? (I actually read a book on screenwriting that said, and I am paraphrasing here, “So, the [example script I wrote] is pretty solid, but it’s missing something. How about a car chase?” The screenplay was about two people falling in love in a mental healthy facility.)

The three examples I gave- The Matrix, Fight Club and American History X- all have the action infused realistically. They fit into the world that the film is based, even if that world is not our own; the world of the film has rules, and they are followed consistently. Transformers 2 seems to go a bit overboard, apparently making up new rules willy-nilly.

Stay tuned for part 2 of my fascinating and scathing critique on action in film, in which I will dissect action scenes that I do and do not like, and tell you why.

Fun, huh?

God Is In The Celluloid

If one were so inclined to look up the reviews for “The Exorcist” on IMDb, you would find thirty or so negative reviews. Some claim that it is plain old bad stylistically. Some find that it is too scary. Some, however, feel it is not good, not because it deals with demonic possession, but rather because there is no such thing as demonic possession. The point of “The Exorcist” isn’t to make you believe in demonic possession for the rest of your life (even though I am sure this was the effect on many audience members.) The point of “The Exorcist” is to make you believe in demonic possession for those two hours. Just like most people will not consider changing their religious views to include the colourful characters of the ancient Greek pantheon after viewing “Clash of the Titans,” one is not required- or expected- to become Roman Catholic after seeing any of the religious-themed horror films of the sixties and seventies, or their revivalist counterparts. The movies are not the Inquisition. 

Perhaps unfortunately, religion has a dogma already attached to it, and the truth is, religion is not taken seriously in Hollywood. Gone are the days of Charlton Heston brandishing a papier-mâché staff, and splitting a Technicoloured sea to the marvellous score of the world’s greatest composers. Filmmakers of the twenty-first century must take a decidedly less tactful route when showing the Almighty on celluloid.

Religious films of the past- be they the epics of Cecil B. DeMille, the poignant character dramas such as “Barabbas”, or Bergman’s bleak and powerful “The Seventh Seal”- simply had a different impact than they do today. The spectacles that were “The Ten Commandments” or “Ben-Hur” or “King of Kings” filled cinemas, delighting the audiences and Hollywood bigwigs alike, bringing in a revenue that could equal the gold of Solomon.

While film was in its groundbreaking infancy, movies were often little more than filmed theatre productions. By the time the biblical epics appeared on screen, they were already starting to take on a life of their own, as a highly specialized art form. Yet, these epics were filled with over-the-top acting: booming monologues, introspective dialogues between pharaohs and a silent god. While some disagree, it is my belief that they managed touched back on their earlier roots while still moving forward at a steady pace, if not always technologically then certainly stylistically. Clearly, the biblical epic was here to stay.

Yet, as mysteriously and suddenly as it came, as if descending from Heaven itself, it disappeared. Films with a religious mood were made, just as they had been before. Perhaps the deaths of the producing greats can be to blame- the replacements for such men were a new generation who did not share their forefathers’ religious beliefs. Or, if they did, they did not dare show it on the silver screen.

While the world outside proved to become even more treacherous, with new wars and new political crisis, one would be inclined to think that the people would want to see tales of salvation. Yet the escapism of the seventies was almost as bleak, if not more so, than the news reports. It seemed that people had forgotten all about God, all of a sudden. In days gone by, the audience went in knowing that God existed, at least in the world of the movie. When Christ walked through the barren landscape, the audience- regardless of their own beliefs- knew that the Christ they were literally seeing on the screen was the Son of God. Yet, Hollywood seemed to notice that the mood of the average filmgoer had changed. “Rosemary’s Baby” and “The Exorcist” dominated the box office. Religion in film now had to be proven as wholly as it did in the corporeal world. People wanted to be convinced that the devil inside the little girl was indeed the devil, and not her own mind, where years before, in the Dutch film “Häxan”, the witches and demons on the screen were very real- not necessarily in the minds of the film going public, but they were willing to suspend their disbelief and take in the horrors of the black mass being projected before them.

It is Hollywood’s need to prove that they are changing with the times that is killing the genre. So afraid are they that someone might think them a bigot, producers will not give the greenlight to a project that commits the cardinal sin of taking something as medieval as religion seriously. The fact that “The Passion of the Christ” brought in hundreds of millions proves nothing to them- that was little more than a sensationalized snuff film. Movies are released in legion about demons and Hell, and often the deepest theological insight is a hackneyed conversation between the leads, during a lull in the apocalyptic action, about the nature of God that the screenwriter forced into the script from Googling “religious theory”.

The epics of the forties and fifties didn’t force religion down people’s throats nearly as much as these modern films force the view that it’s good to avoid such topics. People are intelligent enough to make up their own minds, and when Hollywood realizes this, they can return to that promised land- a golden age where the religious blockbuster serves as entertainment first, and doctrine second, if at all.

Film has many layers. If an audience member walks in wanting to watch it superficially, he will leave with a superficial experience. If he wants to leave with questions about faith and the nature of man, then he will.

That’s the beauty of it.

Hello

This is the blog of Jesse Oliver, one of the contributors for A Teabag for Thought. I know that the site doesn’t look like much now, but if it goes the way that the other creators and I have in our heads, then one day it should be a pretty cool little website. 

This blog is for my thoughts that don’t directly relate to the content of the main page. A good portion of my thoughts will be about entertainment and where it currently stands with the world and its viewers. I might go off on tangents every once in a while about other things that interest me or that I deem important; it is not yet tangible in my head. 

We’ll have to wait and see.