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