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?