The Labrynth
Requiem for a Dream
Dark City (optional)
Hulk (optional)
He's Just Not That Into You (not optional)
See you there!
JENNIFER CONNOLYTHON AT MY HOUSE
The Labrynth
Requiem for a Dream
Dark City (optional)
Hulk (optional)
He's Just Not That Into You (not optional)
See you there!
Witnessing the nth dimension
I'd like to experiment on exploring the difference between a description of something and the actual experience of it; in this case I will be talking about music and film. My choice in the mediums will be ones of particular complexity, so I can emphasise the mutual difference between feeling and understanding.
First I would like to relate this text from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, when Alice is having a conversation with the Duchess:
___'I quite agree with you,' said the Duchess; 'and the moral of that is - "Be what you would seem to be" - or if you'd like it put more simply - "Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."'
___'I think I should understand that better,' Alice said very politely, 'if I had it written down: but I ca'n't quite follow it as you say it.'
The trick of the passage is that it is written down, and in such a way you can read over it and follow its description and understand it. But imagine if it was said to you out loud. This is when it becomes an experience, and may put you at either a)a disadvantage due to being unable to follow its complex pyramid structure grammar or b)an advantage due to previously studying the phrase and dissecting its grammar so that it can be properly followed and understood as a sensible sentence.
The purpose of this exercise is to hopefully place one in situation (b), if one ever has the opportunity to come across any of the subjects of my experiment.
In Music
"Metal Machine Music" by Lou Reed
Description:
Taking an electric guitar and giving it an unusual tuning, Lou Reed would place it at various distances and positions close to its amplifier. The result is a feedback, which the frequency would hit the strings depending on the particular tuning, creating an overtonal vibration, The frequency of this overtone will collide with the overtones (or undertones) of other feedbacks when all mixed together, creating new overtones which collide with other new (and old) overtones - and on and on and on. All these feedback tracks were recorded on to tape, then manipulated and mixed together by Lou Reed's careful controlling hand. This constant infinite loop provides a sort of "therapy" for feedbackphiles, placed in 4 segements of 16 minutes (originally intended for it to played on vinyl), with the 4th segment infinitely looping in the ending groove around the centre of the disc.
Experience:
Unfortunately, I haven't experienced it on vinyl yet as it's a fairly difficult record to find. I do have it on CD, which provides an extreme outburst of high frequency noise, tediously carrying on like some kind of torture method. I still enjoy it immensely, and it only gets better with every listen.
The recent works of Meshuggah
Description:
In music, the rythm of a song is usually denoted by a time signature. The time signature looks like a fraction (eg. "3/4" or "4/4") whereby the denominator indicates the amount of equal parts the beat is divided into, and the numerator indicates how many of these beats will fill up the bar. Along come Meshuggah who decide to take the idea of screwing around with the weirdest and most unlikely time signatures in existence, then take it to further complications by having multiple time signatures playing at once, usually the hands of the drummer will be doing something manageable like 4/4 or 5/4 and the feet are off in their own world doing what's best described as "revolving time signatures". Mathematically, the combination would result as some twisted revolution of different time signatures I'm not even going to pretend to know or count. Sometimes the guitars are off on their own timings which complicates things further. Currently, Meshuggah reign as the kings of "Math Metal". Not only do they achieve inhuman possibilities in their composition, but they achieve machine-like precision in their sound.
Experience:
With the addition of a screaming vocalist, the lack of melodies give an overall thrash-sensibility, only the guitars seem to be strumming at any given random moment, fooling the listener in to headbanging when there is not a beat, and missing a potential headbang when the beat arrives. However, after many obsessive repeated listens, a headbanger will begin to understand the chaos and make sense of when to appropriately headbang. The consolation is in the fact that the guitar strumming and off-rythms are NOT random, the ultimate proof is in seeing this band perform live. An experienced listener will be able to headbang adjustingly - or just jump around and collide with other people in the mosh pit and crowd surf and stuff.
In Movies
"Adaptation" written by Charlie & Donald Kaufman and directed by Spike Jonze
Description:
During the production of "Being John Malkovich" Charlie Kaufman was given an assignment to adapt the book "The Orchid Thief" by Susan Orlean - a book mainly about flowers. It was Kaufman's decision to stay true to the book, to keep away from Hollywood conventions and just write a film that mainly concerns flowers. Meanwhile, 3 years ago, John Laroche (the "Orchid Thief") has been caught extracting various orchids from a state-protected swamp, only he was using the aid of native American indians to legally exploit a loophole to be able to extract them. During his court case, Susan Orlean enters the story to approach Laroche about making him the subject of her column in The New Yorker. By the way, I'm not just making an introduction to lead up to what this movie is about - this is all in the actual movie! The whole scene with Laroche and Orlean is the actual adaptation which Charlie Kaufman is writing. The movie proceeds to take us back and forth between Orlean's slow development of understanding Laroche, and never being able to, and Kaufman's slow development of his script, but never being able to write it. Enter Donald Kaufman, Charlie's twin brother, who has also decided to become a screenwriter. He attends a lecture by Robert McKee and suddenly decides he's going to write a thriller - one that he doesn't realise is the most conventional derived regurgitation of what has already been done a hundred times before. Over the course of the movie, we learn the past of John Laroche, yet haven't really gone anywhere with him yet, Charlie Kaufman enters himself and his brother into the script, plus his warts-and-all failed romance with his love interest, and we come to the end of the book - a failed search through the swamp which Laroche takes Orlean to find the elusive "Ghost Orchid". The story is only half-way finished, there's not enough here for a feature-length film, Charlie is at a loss and doesn't know what to do. He tries to arrange an interview with Orlean but can't bring himself to do it, so he bails out and decides to situate himself in a lecture by Robert McKee. McKee convinces Kaufman to bring his brother in on the script, just like the twin screenwriters of Casablanca - the greatest screenplay ever written (I'm pretty sure that was a joke, or in my opinion it should be). Now Donald Kaufman has taken over the script and handles it like it's one of his conventional thrillers, he throws in all the things Charlie said he wouldn't at the beginning - car chases, drug running, a love triangle - so technically Charlie has kept to his word. I should mention at this point that the characters in this story are based off real people, similar to how John Malkovich played a dramatised version of himself (I guess in "Adaptation" he appears to play a dramatisation of himself playing a dramatisation of himself). Nicholas Cage plays a dramatisation of Charlie Kaufman, Meryl Streep plays a dramatisation of Susan Orlean, Chris Cooper plays a dramatisation of John Laroche and Brian Cox plays a dramatisation of Robert McKee. Donald Kaufman, however, is a completely fictional character. He is also played by Nicholas Cage (in trick photography), but somehow he has also received writing credit for the film itself. So in short, this is a movie written by its own characters, who are dramatisations of real characters except for one guy who is entirely fictional, or perhaps a manifestation of Charlie's own split personality?
Experience:
To watch this film, although it is highly ambitious, it still plays out like a normal film. Each scene is logically followed by another, it is a complex narrative with broken chronology, but we can follow it just like any other film. It's hard to wrap your mind around how this film seems to have perpetuated itself, the film was created within itself and somehow we are able to see it, but is this film even real? There is a duality in understanding this is a self-perpetuating story and it's also one that was created in the real world. The biggest unanswered question, which I think makes it the loudest answer to be unanswered, is why didn't Spike Jonze make an appearance at the beginning during the production of "Being John Malkovich"? We know he's the director of that film, but he's also the director of this film, but, I guess he can't be director of both at the same time. "Adaptation" still remains a difficult puzzle from the nth dimension, but if you've seen it as many times as I have, it is manageable to get your head around. Besides, as we shall see, there are many other films that take complexity to new heights; even Charlie Kaufman's own movie "Synecdoche New York" (which I've talked about at length in previous posts so I will skip it here).
"Primer" written and directed by Shane Carruth
Description:
In a voice over - via telephone monologue - by Aaron3 we are introduced to four young engineers who decide to build some sort of machine (a kind of gravity-blocking device, I think). Upon building this machine, two of the engineers who are more closer friends than the other two; Aaron and Abe, have decided to take this machine further, then accidentally stumble upon a device that recycles the same minute 1300 times. They don't know why, but they explain how it works is that there is a time-point A and a time-point B (one minute into the future). Between point A and point B is a parabolic curve which moves the object in the machine from point A to point B back to point A. All of this is explained to an impatient Aaron2, who knows all this already. Abe, however, has already decided to build a bigger, smarter, version of this machine that allows one to carry an object from point B to point A - effectively travelling back in time. Abe establishes the testing of this machine to Aaron through a past-voiceover conversation laid over a future montage of events which show both of them setting the timer on the machine (which is when they will be coming out of them) and then disappearing in a hotel room for the day, then going back to the machine and sleeping inside them with oxygen tanks and coming back out a day earlier, when the timer reaches zero. This establishes a specific kind of time-travelling, where you travel backwards in real-time - no instantaneous zipping back to the past - and only to a point which the machine can allow; no going back to shake hands with Einstein. Now Aaron has also discovered Abe has secretly made a "failsafe" machine, this is when he becomes Aaron2 and carries back his own machine (which can be folded up and duplicated in another machine), then tampers with Abe's failsafe. The reason for all this is due to an event at a party, where Abe's love interest, Rachel, is confronted by her ex-boyfriend and his shotgun. Aaron decides to tamper with the timeline to become Aaron2 and go back to the party and become the "hero". Due to this situation, Abe has now become Abe2 and Rachel's father seems to have found out about the time machines and becomes Mr. Granger2, although we aren't told how he found out about the machines, it is only implied in some previous timeline that no longer exists because it's been "revised" by Aaron3. There is one part in the movie where we see Aaron2 drug Aaron's breakfast and then drag him into the attic, then Aaron3 struggles to fight Aaron2 but he's too weak to overcome him, yet convinces him to become Aaron3. In the end, Aaron3 saves the day at the party and becomes the hero, then disappears forever. Abe2 decides to constantly tamper with the original time machine so that the original Abe and Aaron never build one in the first place, and the whole story we just watched never happened.
Experience:
I feel justified in giving away the ending because it is a film that you will have to watch many times to even begin to understand what is going on. The clever thing about this film is how extremely low their budget was, so every shot was maticulously planned out and rehearsed. In a low budget film, there will be many things that will not be shown, but here they are vaguely explained and so we are to work it out in our own minds. It plays well with the natural sense of curiosity for a human inquisitive mind, by logical thinking we can try to understand who is who, what is what and how it all comes together. Then it breaks apart because of timelines that never happened seem to explain things that did happen. One important aspect about the experience of this film is the dialogue never comes down to "our level", we have to keep up and go to their level. The explanations aren't simple, because if they were then the story just wouldn't work. What I wrote in the description could be entirely wrong, but the film hasn't told me so, I've had to try and work this all out myself. In the first experience it is a bit overwhelming, you won't get it and you know you will have to watch it many more times. The difficult part is to commit to doing that, because does it really matter in the end? The charm of a film like this, to me, is that it is presented as a challenge, it wants you to solve it, and if it is not in your interest to be challenged then you will not be interested in this movie at all. There is no reward in the form of a tangeable prize at the end, but for me, the real reward is the journey itself.
"The Fountain" written and directed by Darron Aronofsky
Description:
Experience:
"Funny Games" written and directed by Michael Haneke
(more to come)
First I would like to relate this text from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, when Alice is having a conversation with the Duchess:
___'I quite agree with you,' said the Duchess; 'and the moral of that is - "Be what you would seem to be" - or if you'd like it put more simply - "Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."'
___'I think I should understand that better,' Alice said very politely, 'if I had it written down: but I ca'n't quite follow it as you say it.'
The trick of the passage is that it is written down, and in such a way you can read over it and follow its description and understand it. But imagine if it was said to you out loud. This is when it becomes an experience, and may put you at either a)a disadvantage due to being unable to follow its complex pyramid structure grammar or b)an advantage due to previously studying the phrase and dissecting its grammar so that it can be properly followed and understood as a sensible sentence.
The purpose of this exercise is to hopefully place one in situation (b), if one ever has the opportunity to come across any of the subjects of my experiment.
In Music
"Metal Machine Music" by Lou Reed
Description:
Taking an electric guitar and giving it an unusual tuning, Lou Reed would place it at various distances and positions close to its amplifier. The result is a feedback, which the frequency would hit the strings depending on the particular tuning, creating an overtonal vibration, The frequency of this overtone will collide with the overtones (or undertones) of other feedbacks when all mixed together, creating new overtones which collide with other new (and old) overtones - and on and on and on. All these feedback tracks were recorded on to tape, then manipulated and mixed together by Lou Reed's careful controlling hand. This constant infinite loop provides a sort of "therapy" for feedbackphiles, placed in 4 segements of 16 minutes (originally intended for it to played on vinyl), with the 4th segment infinitely looping in the ending groove around the centre of the disc.
Experience:
Unfortunately, I haven't experienced it on vinyl yet as it's a fairly difficult record to find. I do have it on CD, which provides an extreme outburst of high frequency noise, tediously carrying on like some kind of torture method. I still enjoy it immensely, and it only gets better with every listen.
The recent works of Meshuggah
Description:
In music, the rythm of a song is usually denoted by a time signature. The time signature looks like a fraction (eg. "3/4" or "4/4") whereby the denominator indicates the amount of equal parts the beat is divided into, and the numerator indicates how many of these beats will fill up the bar. Along come Meshuggah who decide to take the idea of screwing around with the weirdest and most unlikely time signatures in existence, then take it to further complications by having multiple time signatures playing at once, usually the hands of the drummer will be doing something manageable like 4/4 or 5/4 and the feet are off in their own world doing what's best described as "revolving time signatures". Mathematically, the combination would result as some twisted revolution of different time signatures I'm not even going to pretend to know or count. Sometimes the guitars are off on their own timings which complicates things further. Currently, Meshuggah reign as the kings of "Math Metal". Not only do they achieve inhuman possibilities in their composition, but they achieve machine-like precision in their sound.
Experience:
With the addition of a screaming vocalist, the lack of melodies give an overall thrash-sensibility, only the guitars seem to be strumming at any given random moment, fooling the listener in to headbanging when there is not a beat, and missing a potential headbang when the beat arrives. However, after many obsessive repeated listens, a headbanger will begin to understand the chaos and make sense of when to appropriately headbang. The consolation is in the fact that the guitar strumming and off-rythms are NOT random, the ultimate proof is in seeing this band perform live. An experienced listener will be able to headbang adjustingly - or just jump around and collide with other people in the mosh pit and crowd surf and stuff.
In Movies
"Adaptation" written by Charlie & Donald Kaufman and directed by Spike Jonze
Description:
During the production of "Being John Malkovich" Charlie Kaufman was given an assignment to adapt the book "The Orchid Thief" by Susan Orlean - a book mainly about flowers. It was Kaufman's decision to stay true to the book, to keep away from Hollywood conventions and just write a film that mainly concerns flowers. Meanwhile, 3 years ago, John Laroche (the "Orchid Thief") has been caught extracting various orchids from a state-protected swamp, only he was using the aid of native American indians to legally exploit a loophole to be able to extract them. During his court case, Susan Orlean enters the story to approach Laroche about making him the subject of her column in The New Yorker. By the way, I'm not just making an introduction to lead up to what this movie is about - this is all in the actual movie! The whole scene with Laroche and Orlean is the actual adaptation which Charlie Kaufman is writing. The movie proceeds to take us back and forth between Orlean's slow development of understanding Laroche, and never being able to, and Kaufman's slow development of his script, but never being able to write it. Enter Donald Kaufman, Charlie's twin brother, who has also decided to become a screenwriter. He attends a lecture by Robert McKee and suddenly decides he's going to write a thriller - one that he doesn't realise is the most conventional derived regurgitation of what has already been done a hundred times before. Over the course of the movie, we learn the past of John Laroche, yet haven't really gone anywhere with him yet, Charlie Kaufman enters himself and his brother into the script, plus his warts-and-all failed romance with his love interest, and we come to the end of the book - a failed search through the swamp which Laroche takes Orlean to find the elusive "Ghost Orchid". The story is only half-way finished, there's not enough here for a feature-length film, Charlie is at a loss and doesn't know what to do. He tries to arrange an interview with Orlean but can't bring himself to do it, so he bails out and decides to situate himself in a lecture by Robert McKee. McKee convinces Kaufman to bring his brother in on the script, just like the twin screenwriters of Casablanca - the greatest screenplay ever written (I'm pretty sure that was a joke, or in my opinion it should be). Now Donald Kaufman has taken over the script and handles it like it's one of his conventional thrillers, he throws in all the things Charlie said he wouldn't at the beginning - car chases, drug running, a love triangle - so technically Charlie has kept to his word. I should mention at this point that the characters in this story are based off real people, similar to how John Malkovich played a dramatised version of himself (I guess in "Adaptation" he appears to play a dramatisation of himself playing a dramatisation of himself). Nicholas Cage plays a dramatisation of Charlie Kaufman, Meryl Streep plays a dramatisation of Susan Orlean, Chris Cooper plays a dramatisation of John Laroche and Brian Cox plays a dramatisation of Robert McKee. Donald Kaufman, however, is a completely fictional character. He is also played by Nicholas Cage (in trick photography), but somehow he has also received writing credit for the film itself. So in short, this is a movie written by its own characters, who are dramatisations of real characters except for one guy who is entirely fictional, or perhaps a manifestation of Charlie's own split personality?
Experience:
To watch this film, although it is highly ambitious, it still plays out like a normal film. Each scene is logically followed by another, it is a complex narrative with broken chronology, but we can follow it just like any other film. It's hard to wrap your mind around how this film seems to have perpetuated itself, the film was created within itself and somehow we are able to see it, but is this film even real? There is a duality in understanding this is a self-perpetuating story and it's also one that was created in the real world. The biggest unanswered question, which I think makes it the loudest answer to be unanswered, is why didn't Spike Jonze make an appearance at the beginning during the production of "Being John Malkovich"? We know he's the director of that film, but he's also the director of this film, but, I guess he can't be director of both at the same time. "Adaptation" still remains a difficult puzzle from the nth dimension, but if you've seen it as many times as I have, it is manageable to get your head around. Besides, as we shall see, there are many other films that take complexity to new heights; even Charlie Kaufman's own movie "Synecdoche New York" (which I've talked about at length in previous posts so I will skip it here).
"Primer" written and directed by Shane Carruth
Description:
In a voice over - via telephone monologue - by Aaron3 we are introduced to four young engineers who decide to build some sort of machine (a kind of gravity-blocking device, I think). Upon building this machine, two of the engineers who are more closer friends than the other two; Aaron and Abe, have decided to take this machine further, then accidentally stumble upon a device that recycles the same minute 1300 times. They don't know why, but they explain how it works is that there is a time-point A and a time-point B (one minute into the future). Between point A and point B is a parabolic curve which moves the object in the machine from point A to point B back to point A. All of this is explained to an impatient Aaron2, who knows all this already. Abe, however, has already decided to build a bigger, smarter, version of this machine that allows one to carry an object from point B to point A - effectively travelling back in time. Abe establishes the testing of this machine to Aaron through a past-voiceover conversation laid over a future montage of events which show both of them setting the timer on the machine (which is when they will be coming out of them) and then disappearing in a hotel room for the day, then going back to the machine and sleeping inside them with oxygen tanks and coming back out a day earlier, when the timer reaches zero. This establishes a specific kind of time-travelling, where you travel backwards in real-time - no instantaneous zipping back to the past - and only to a point which the machine can allow; no going back to shake hands with Einstein. Now Aaron has also discovered Abe has secretly made a "failsafe" machine, this is when he becomes Aaron2 and carries back his own machine (which can be folded up and duplicated in another machine), then tampers with Abe's failsafe. The reason for all this is due to an event at a party, where Abe's love interest, Rachel, is confronted by her ex-boyfriend and his shotgun. Aaron decides to tamper with the timeline to become Aaron2 and go back to the party and become the "hero". Due to this situation, Abe has now become Abe2 and Rachel's father seems to have found out about the time machines and becomes Mr. Granger2, although we aren't told how he found out about the machines, it is only implied in some previous timeline that no longer exists because it's been "revised" by Aaron3. There is one part in the movie where we see Aaron2 drug Aaron's breakfast and then drag him into the attic, then Aaron3 struggles to fight Aaron2 but he's too weak to overcome him, yet convinces him to become Aaron3. In the end, Aaron3 saves the day at the party and becomes the hero, then disappears forever. Abe2 decides to constantly tamper with the original time machine so that the original Abe and Aaron never build one in the first place, and the whole story we just watched never happened.
Experience:
I feel justified in giving away the ending because it is a film that you will have to watch many times to even begin to understand what is going on. The clever thing about this film is how extremely low their budget was, so every shot was maticulously planned out and rehearsed. In a low budget film, there will be many things that will not be shown, but here they are vaguely explained and so we are to work it out in our own minds. It plays well with the natural sense of curiosity for a human inquisitive mind, by logical thinking we can try to understand who is who, what is what and how it all comes together. Then it breaks apart because of timelines that never happened seem to explain things that did happen. One important aspect about the experience of this film is the dialogue never comes down to "our level", we have to keep up and go to their level. The explanations aren't simple, because if they were then the story just wouldn't work. What I wrote in the description could be entirely wrong, but the film hasn't told me so, I've had to try and work this all out myself. In the first experience it is a bit overwhelming, you won't get it and you know you will have to watch it many more times. The difficult part is to commit to doing that, because does it really matter in the end? The charm of a film like this, to me, is that it is presented as a challenge, it wants you to solve it, and if it is not in your interest to be challenged then you will not be interested in this movie at all. There is no reward in the form of a tangeable prize at the end, but for me, the real reward is the journey itself.
"The Fountain" written and directed by Darron Aronofsky
Description:
Experience:
"Funny Games" written and directed by Michael Haneke
(more to come)
Das Schloss, ein film von Michael Haneke (a quick analysis)
This is quasi-Alice related, but I'll get to that later. I would really like to talk about this film, and how I find it a)thoroughly more enjoyable than the book and b)irresistable to rewatch over and over again. I have not done too much research on this movie, there is very little information about its production. All that I know is that it was made for television. I have a theory that Haneke simply made it for the money to make ends meet on his production of "Funny Games", which was also completed in the same year (1997) and with some of the same actors. But I could be (and should be) wrong. It seems like a much "lesser" Haneke film, but it's become one of my favourites for many reasons as I will discuss. So from an un-researched viewpoint, I will not be able to draw on too many facts other than comparisons to the book and comparisons to other Haneke films. This will be a pure analysis based on what is presented on the screen.
The book was written by Franz Kafka (translation: "The Castle") back in 1926. I was interested in reading this book because Kafka's name was dropped in another book I was reading called "Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy" - a nice book about philosophy but a terrible book about interpritations of the Alice stories - there was one chapter about the art of nonsense in literature. The chapter, written by Charles Taliaferro and Elizabeth Olson argues that nonsense is a wonderful literary device if there is a grounded protagonist who gives the perspective of sanity, and through their eyes the nonsense remains alien and/or humourous. Then they argue the dangers of absurdity, such as Kafka, Nikolai Gogol or Eugene Ionesco, where "these works tread deeper and deeper into senseless strife and violence... life and death itself become almost meaningless." I thought this was pretty cool, so I went out and bought a copy of "The Castle", translated by J. A. Underwood (who I later discovered is more of a "Kafka-purist", in terms of style that means he translated the original untainted manuscripts and left the lengthy paragraphs unbroken) and started reading right away. One thing to note on Kafka's book, in fact on his three only novel attempts, is that they were never completed before he died. "The Castle" even breaks off at mid-sentence, which plays to great emphasis in Haneke's adaptation.
There are two ways I can relay the story, the normal way in which I simply explain the entire event and give exposition in an orderly structured fashion, or relay the events and exposition as they are chronicled in the story, so as not to spoil the experience of the way it presents itself. Alternatively, I could not relay the story at all, which is what I'm going to do. For those who know the story, it would just be a tedious exercise in revising what you know already. For those who don't know the story, I would hate to spoil the joy of having it unravel in the way it should be experienced. This goes for either reading the book or watching the film by Haneke (I have not seen any other adaptations). Haneke has managed to follow the events of the book exactly as they are ordered, easily deceiving the audience in thinking it is a faithful adaptation. I don't think it is all that faithful, not in the sense of its compression of the events and dialogues, but in its stylistic display it is more of a Haneke experience than Kafkaesque.
In adapting the book to film I have noticed Haneke making considerable changes, each with a variety of reasons which I can only assume, however I will discuss each type of change with an example. They are:
Compression
There are events and, most notably, dialogue which are hugely compressed. This is the key reason for my enjoyment of the film over the book. Kafka was able to explore the extremes of novel-writing when he was able to give each character their own 10-page monologue about this and that, except not to say it's this, but as it is that then this will lead to that, not because of this but because of that. It's bad enough to stop the story dead within a book, since reading is a whole different psychology to watching, but to do that in a film will virtually stop the world turning - birds will fall out of the sky and anyone with a pacemaker will die instantly. One moment of extremely clever compression I noticed was the dialogue between K. and the landlady of the village inn, the next morning after Frieda had decided to leave her position at the Herrenhof. K. decides that he wants to talk to Klamm, but the landlady argues it is impossible. Haneke's reduction of this dialogue is beautiful, for the film there was no need for backstories, over-exposition or "this and that", K. just wanted to get out and find answers. It is a joy for me to watch this scene (all framed in a single shot) inversely proportional to how much it was a pain to read it in the book.
There are two other big compressions, one I would deem an omission, so that makes one other compression, which I couldn't help noticing. The conversation between Olga and K. at Barnabas' house, which takes up several chapters in the book, was reduced to a very small conversation. This was a part of the book I did enjoy reading, there were a lot of revelations discussed about the beaurocratic nature of village and its castle, and a whole history of the downfall of the Barnabas family. While it was all fascinating, the compression here was also necessary to Haneke. The beaurocratic nature is already discussed two other times (which I will including in the "keeping" section), and there is also Haneke's sense to leave explanations open - and this is what greatly intrigued me about the film - which has this strange incompatibility with Kafka's writing yet still makes for a compelling story.
Omission
There was one particularly large omission I couldn't help but notice. Well, make that two, except the other would be better off under "changing". And then there are another two I can think of, one of which I mentioned before under the "compression" section. Firstly, I will discuss the scene when K. talks with Erlanger at the Herrenhof Inn, then Erlanger leaves. In the book there is a giant display of chaos involving messengers and the gentlemen from the castle. Doors are flying open and slamming shut, messengers are taking letters and giving letters, then fighting or playing mind games with gentlemen in order to get messages from them or deliver messages to them. Then one gentleman in particular starts yelling and making a whole lot of noise and rings his bell, to which all the other gentlemen respond by joining in, then the landlord and the landlady walk in and grab K. by his arms and drag him out of the scene. K. only then learns that he was the reason there was so much noise and trouble, that he should have left immediately after Erlanger gave him his message. K. then has some absurd discussion with the landlady about the clothes she wears. All of this is completely gone in Haneke's adaptation. There was one important detail in this whole scene, as soon as the chaos dies down one of the messengers still has a single note left undelivered. K. wants to see what it is, but before he gets a chance the messenger rips up the note and puts it in his pocket. Such an action gives confirmation to the Mayor's long speech about how such gross miscommunication can come about and result in a mistake such as K.'s arrival to the village. There are two reasons why I can think this scene was ommited entirely. First is the budget would probably have no room for it, and considering Haneke's demand for absolute technical precision, such a thing would be out of the question. Second is that it has already been explained by the Mayor (see the "keeping" section), and thus is my argument for this film being more Hanekesque than Kafkaesque. It's almost like a mathematical elegance, to cut down the fat and give you the absolute essential information. The rest of the information around it is all there, but you don't need to be told explecitely what it is, like Kafka would tell you, but rather it's all the things you can assume on your own.
Changing
Keeping
(more to come)
The Characters of Tim Burton's version.
Have you ever asked yourself after watching Tim Burton's version "what's with those characters? They're nothing like how I remembered them from the book/Disney's animated version!"
Ever wonder why Johnny Depp's characterisation of the Hatter just wasn't mad enough?
I know why. I hope you can follow without the aid of pictures. It all starts with the Red Queen.
Or is she the Queen of Hearts?
She's both. That's how it works, that's what they did. You can see the consistency in Crispin Glover's performance as the Red Knight/Knave of Hearts. Now you can notice a pattern, see the March Hare in the White Queen's kitchen throwing pots and pans and yelling "Pepper!!"? That's because he's also the "Duchess' Cook", which means the White Queen must also be the Duchess (who I can only think of as the biggest rival to the Queen of Hearts in AAIW).
So what does that make the Hatter? Well, he seemed to be the direct opponent to the Red Knight, so I guess that makes him the ....
So what does that make the Dormouse? Why was he so hyperactive rather than sleepy? And what about the Cheshire Cat, or Tweedledum and Tweedledee? The White Rabbit? The Dodo??
Ever wonder why Johnny Depp's characterisation of the Hatter just wasn't mad enough?
I know why. I hope you can follow without the aid of pictures. It all starts with the Red Queen.
Or is she the Queen of Hearts?
She's both. That's how it works, that's what they did. You can see the consistency in Crispin Glover's performance as the Red Knight/Knave of Hearts. Now you can notice a pattern, see the March Hare in the White Queen's kitchen throwing pots and pans and yelling "Pepper!!"? That's because he's also the "Duchess' Cook", which means the White Queen must also be the Duchess (who I can only think of as the biggest rival to the Queen of Hearts in AAIW).
So what does that make the Hatter? Well, he seemed to be the direct opponent to the Red Knight, so I guess that makes him the ....
So what does that make the Dormouse? Why was he so hyperactive rather than sleepy? And what about the Cheshire Cat, or Tweedledum and Tweedledee? The White Rabbit? The Dodo??
Minor adjustment to my Tim Burton version post
In my post about Tim Burton's version last week I mentioned that I gave the film zero stars. I now change that to at least one star.
One might expect that I should give it at least something due to Tim Burton's effort to cover over the sloppy writing with his fantastic graphics and designs, but my argument is that as long as the story is so glaringly bad I can not forgive a movie for its superficial production value.
What I do forgive the movie for is the one particular actor who graced the screen, without me realising it until at least three or four days after seeing it:
Crispin Hellion Glover is a man I've recently become fascinated with. I did mention in the post that I thought it was an interesting idea to get up and close to the Red Knight, it was only a few days of thinking about it that his performance was rather excellent, and it gelled harder when I realised it was this particular eccentric, whome I've seen in at least ten other movies but never pinpointed him out until only recently when I've started reading about him.
The role I remember him the most was as "The Thin Man" from the Charlie's Angels movie (haven't seen the sequel), a film I'd give two stars - one for Crispin Glover gracing the screen with his almighty presence, another for Tim Curry and Bill Murray battling each other in those sumo suits. I would like to watch more movies that feature Crispin Glover, but like most great actors you have to take the bad with the good, for example: Like Mike. I don't think I could sit through that, ever.
What really brought my attention to Crispin Glover is one time reading about these two strange art-films, "What is it?" featuring a cast of actors with downs-syndrome, and another called "It is Fine. Everything is Fine!". There is a third movie to complete the "It" trilogy, but no one can tell when it will be completed. I wanted to hunt down these movies to watch, but much to my chagrin (I'm sorry but I love that word) you are only able to view them when Crispin Glover decides to screen them at some independent American arthouse cinema, then have a Q&A session afterwards. Currently there are no plans to release them for home-viewing. This is all well and good for an artist to protect his work and integrity, but I REALLY want to see these movies, and I haven't the money or time to travel to USA to locate a place to see when Crispin Glover will eventually show them again. I'm hoping once the trilogy is complete, then they might be released in some awesome box-set.
In conclusion, keep an eye out for this guy, next time you decide to go watch Alice again. If you don't want to sit through that again, then check out his next film coming out soon: "Hot Tub Time Machine". Should be a good one.
UPDATE: 26 July 2010
After watching "Hot Tube Time Machine" I concluded that it was pretty crap, but worth seeing for Crispin Glover only.
One might expect that I should give it at least something due to Tim Burton's effort to cover over the sloppy writing with his fantastic graphics and designs, but my argument is that as long as the story is so glaringly bad I can not forgive a movie for its superficial production value.
What I do forgive the movie for is the one particular actor who graced the screen, without me realising it until at least three or four days after seeing it:
Crispin Hellion Glover is a man I've recently become fascinated with. I did mention in the post that I thought it was an interesting idea to get up and close to the Red Knight, it was only a few days of thinking about it that his performance was rather excellent, and it gelled harder when I realised it was this particular eccentric, whome I've seen in at least ten other movies but never pinpointed him out until only recently when I've started reading about him.
The role I remember him the most was as "The Thin Man" from the Charlie's Angels movie (haven't seen the sequel), a film I'd give two stars - one for Crispin Glover gracing the screen with his almighty presence, another for Tim Curry and Bill Murray battling each other in those sumo suits. I would like to watch more movies that feature Crispin Glover, but like most great actors you have to take the bad with the good, for example: Like Mike. I don't think I could sit through that, ever.
What really brought my attention to Crispin Glover is one time reading about these two strange art-films, "What is it?" featuring a cast of actors with downs-syndrome, and another called "It is Fine. Everything is Fine!". There is a third movie to complete the "It" trilogy, but no one can tell when it will be completed. I wanted to hunt down these movies to watch, but much to my chagrin (I'm sorry but I love that word) you are only able to view them when Crispin Glover decides to screen them at some independent American arthouse cinema, then have a Q&A session afterwards. Currently there are no plans to release them for home-viewing. This is all well and good for an artist to protect his work and integrity, but I REALLY want to see these movies, and I haven't the money or time to travel to USA to locate a place to see when Crispin Glover will eventually show them again. I'm hoping once the trilogy is complete, then they might be released in some awesome box-set.
In conclusion, keep an eye out for this guy, next time you decide to go watch Alice again. If you don't want to sit through that again, then check out his next film coming out soon: "Hot Tub Time Machine". Should be a good one.
UPDATE: 26 July 2010
After watching "Hot Tube Time Machine" I concluded that it was pretty crap, but worth seeing for Crispin Glover only.
ALICE IN UNDERPANTS - Thoughts on Tim Burton's version.
I figured I will post a pictureless afterthought on this film. I am still posting this from my Playstation 3 so don't expect anything fancy.
FIRST NOTE: SPOILERS!!
I will not hold back on stating anything that could be a potential spoiler, as this post is more intended for those who have already seen the film.
SECOND NOTE: I GIVE IT ZERO STARS!
To get this out of the way before hand I will say now that I did not like this film, so you can expect the kind of tone my writing will be. This should not discourage anyone to not see the film, rather, one should watch this movie and share their thoughts based on one's individual experience.
THIRD NOTE: I WATCHED IT IN 3D, FOR FREE.
The film was shot in 2D and converted in post-production. The 3rd dimension was not spectacular enough for me to warrant sitting through the entire feature-length with the discomfort of the one-size-fits-all glasses. Basically, it was no where near the immersion you'd expect after seeing "Avatar" in 3D, so I suggest seeing this film in 2D on a day when tickets are on discount.
PART ONE: WHAT I DID NOT LIKE
I found this movie abysmal. The saddest part is that it looked fantastic and the design was amazing, yet all this talent was gone to waste on such clumsy story-telling. I feel the best place to begin my elaboration is on the leading lady herself: Alice.
Alice was too erotic. She was sexy, but not too permiscuous. The result is a fine balance which should be able to please the majority of the audience. As she shrinks or grows, her dresses do not shrink or grow with her (which I thought was a clever idea). When Alice shows off her body the sex-appeal is enough to turn heads of a male audience, yet her beauty and self-confidence will bring out admiration from the female audience. It sounds like a perfect plan on paper, yet it somehow diminishes any interesting qualities in her character. If she is too busy thinking about how her dresses are fitting it is any wonder how she is capable of carrying the plot forward. There is nothing wrong with a good fashion sense in film, the dresses were very lovely indeed (although perhaps more suited to the catwalk over any practical use), but they should not get in the way of the story unless they have a purpose. Take for example the film "The Devil Wears Prada". Despite its disappointing ending (I think she should have stayed with the magazine) it is a great example of a fashion-driven movie, as it is a story about fashion-journalism. In Tim Burton's "Alice", the fashion seems to serve no other purpose than diverting the viewer's attention from the sloppy writing. This film was not so much movie-magic but a movie-magic-trick. The razzle-dazzle graphics are like this wavering hand which distracts your gaze from the other hand reaching into a pocket, except instead of pulling out a coin or some object the hand stays in the pocket and furiously masturbates. The other hand just keeps on waving about yet some of us have already noticed the pocket and all we are waiting for is to see how much of a load he's going to shoot in his pants.
It is about time I discuss what it is about this story I found made it so awful. I imagine the screenwriter (Disney's all-time hack Linda Woolverton) probably thought the "Alice" books would have been better written by J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis. Either way I could not seem to find any appreciation for Lewis Carroll in it whatsoever, in terms of the story that is, I must stress I loved the visual designs of the movie.
There were many moments in this film I deemed Tolkienesque; riding on the backs of large beasts, menacing flying monsters, when the Hatter was reciting the Jabberwocky poem as if it were a legend of history, big castles, etc. The most obvious Tolkienesque moment staring you right in the face is the large battle sequence - the ultimate showdown - except the sequence felt like it was handled like the croquet-game in the book (was it intentional?). It all ended up very silly, no sense of real danger to "our favourite" characters. After all, they are merely fighting a bunch of vector floating-points generated from computer software. I'm not saying that a sense of danger can't be achieved with CGI, as long as the story is told well enough for the viewer to suspend their disbelief and build up enough interest in a character for us to care about. The best example in my opinion is Golem from Peter Jackson's "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, but you can't get more Tolkienesque than Tolkien. I think the writer should have stuck with being Carrollian.
Among many downsides to the story, I think the biggest culprit is the Cheshire Cat. The execution of the cat was flawless; the design, the animation and Stephen Fry's voice - all perfect, all wasted on his role as the biggest pitfall of the story - to be used as a device for the writer to resolve any challenge, any obsticle, as they see fit, also known as the "God Machine". If you think about it, the film never explains what the Cheshire Cat can't do. We see him de-materialise, re-materialise, fly, grow, shrink, transform to perfect detail into another character (save for his eyes and grin, kind of like a pokémon?) and oh yeah - you see that moon? That's actually the Cheshire Cat! One can argue that his allegiance belongs neither to the red side or the white, he acts upon his own motivations, except that he's always conveniently helping the good guys. To think, the Hatter managed to escape the Red Castle with Tweedledum & Tweedledee, with the Dormouse and with the dog's wife and pups all unscathed all because the Cheshire Cat wanted to wear the Hatter's hat! An idea struck me - imagine if the Cheshire Cat was the villian. The story would become at least a hundred times more compelling! Imagine the ultimate challenge is to defeat the Deus ex-Machina himself! Alice would have more reason to break down and cry, just at the hopelessness of it all. The Jabberwocky would not even stand a chance, Cheshire Cat would swallow it whole and then vanish like it never existed. Then everything doesn't have to be resolved. Alice could end up doing more harm to "Underland" than good, but just the task of defeating the Cheshire Cat alone would render enough catharsis from the story. An example of this kind of story can be found in Werner Herzog's "Fitzcarraldo". The protaginist ultimately failed in his goal in building an opera-house, but still accomplished the colossal feat of shifting a boat over a mountain! It was a real live boat too, no scale-models, special effects or studio tricks. Of course it is debatable wheter one considres "Fitzcarraldo" a good film, but in the end you can claim you have had a real film experience. Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland" left me feeling defeated, like realising Alice died a long time ago and this is the final nail in the coffin. I feel even more defeated in that I might be in a minority of a minority of those who thought this was a bad film.
PART ONE POINT FIVE: OTHER THINGS I DID NOT LIKE
The pacing was too erratic. Many parts were slow or fast at random, a lot of things were dwelt on that had no relevence or point, any thing that did have relevence or plot-movement was rushed. It felt like there was this one deleted scene, which forced a huge chain upon chains of other scenes to be taken out. There was a definitely a whole air of something missing. I felt cheated as we rush straight to the mad tea party, it's about the second thing that happens to Alice once she walks through the door. From there we are introduced to the Hatter, whose presence remains throughout the entire film. He kind of wears out his welcome, mostly due to his madness being toned down (or 'held back'). And his dance at the end? After all that build up? I could have cried. Whether the dance works for the film or not is debatable, but I didn't like it.
If there were something missing in this film it would be a whole cast of other interesting characters. Off the top of my head I would have liked to see Tim Burton handle the Gryphon, the Mock Turtle, the Newspaper-man, the Goat, the Lion & the Unicorn, the Sheep, Humpty Dumpty, maybe even the Walrus & the Carpenter. We are only stuck with the most popular or widely known characters, ones that people who haven't read the books would even know about. Come to think of it, whatever happened to the Dodo anyay?
I found Alice to be rather bland and uninteresting, when you look past all the nice clothes she wears. In the story it is noted she has lost much of her "muchness", yet even as she regains her "muchness" (could it pinpoint down to when she crosses the moat to enter the Red Castle?) there isn't much there.
The film was far too over-scored. A typical treatment one might notice in high-budget studio films is when they are drowned from start-to-finish in music. It has been proven that if you want intensity, take the music out! Exciting, swelling fast paced score will destroy the mood by the fact that it's trying to dictate it. When there is a tender emotional moment, the cliché violin will only serve to break away your empathy. Music can serve many purposes, it can even set a mood, but what it can't do is take you on a rollercoaster of mood-swings, especially on a film as erratic as this one.
Lastly, that parchment-thing with the illustration of Alice slaying the Jabberwocky (a nod to John Tenniel I'm sure), just where the heck did it come from?!
PART TWO: THINGS I DID LIKE
As I have stated before, I loved the visual interpretations of the characters, I only wish there were more characters and that they were written better.
I thought the floating heads in the moat were morbidly awesome. When Alice had to climb over them, and her foot fell into the gaping mouth, was delightfully creepy.
I always love to see visual interpretations of events in the book, especially the obscure events or if they were handled differently. I was a bit unsure with seeing Alice fall down the rabbit-hole so quickly, but it went on for a fairly long time which brought me momentary satisfaction. She lands hard on the floor, as if it barely hurt, so once again I'm confused as to whether we have warped gravity or Tim Burton just being weird. My answer arrives when we discover Alice is really upside-down and falls through another floor - Tim Burton is just being weird. It is around here where Alice goes through the routine of the events in the book; she tries all doors, key on table, tries key on doors, finds little door behind curtain, key works, can't fit through, drinks from labelled bottle, shrinks, forgot key on table - we break away from the routine when a couple of omnipresent voice-overs discuss "you think she'd remember all this from before", "I told you she's not the right Alice!", I almost begin to switch off but then Alice finds the cake, eats cake, grows, gets stuck, and it's here that she doesn't cry, so then I switch off again. What I noticed what was unique to this interpretation was how Alice does not talk or think to herself as she does so much in the book and other films. This allowed the scene to be played out more like a routine, rather than an adaptation, and it gave way to a more smoother pacing, which for some reason I really enjoyed.
One more brief moment I liked was a shot of the Hatter in prison, similar to an event in "Through the Looking Glass" where the White Queen relays this information to Alice, there was an illustration of "Hatta" in prison by John Tenniel, so I found that particular shot in the film interesting, whether it is what they intended or not.
FINALLY: ISSUES I TAKE NEUTRALITY WITH
When a writer feels they need to diverge away from the story of the book, this is a valid form of creativity. What went wrong here is the drastic changes to the heroine. Granted, she is grown up, but the book had the character portrayed so right - you fall in love with Alice much more than you'd want to have sex with her, even if you were as much of a pedophile as Lewis Carroll himself - and the film failed to accomplish this. Fortunately you don't have to be a pedophile this time around to find Alice sexy.
In diverging from the books (even for those who aren't) it is common-practice to cross elements from Looking Glass into Wonderland. This time we have "Underland", probably a portmanteau of the original manuscript's "Under Ground" and "Wonderland" (as the film describes Alice as simply misinterpreting when she was little). I often describe crossing the two books as "playing chess with a pack of cards", only that's what sort of happens in the film anyway. At least I was assured that when we entered through the rabbit-hole and not through the looking glass there would be no clever Looking Glass logic or intricate chess-game structure.
I thought I'd have an issue with the merging of the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts, but it surprisingly worked well i.e. from a design standpoint. It contributed to the story as a Red Queen having an ironic fascination with the heart symbol - as a pre-ordained desire to be loved more than feared - versus the White Queen, who I can't really describe more than any kind of symbolic interpretation of whiteness can. The merging of Red Queen and Queen of Hearts is complimented by the Red Knight being merged with the Knave of Hearts. I thought it was an interesting idea to get to know the Red Knight more up close and personal, as we are hardly acquainted with him in the book, it becomes an area open to creative licence.
An unlikely merging was that of the March-Hare and the Duchess' Cook, I don't have much comment on that.
I don't take issue with "Underland" being a real place rather than Alice's dream, as much as I hate the whole "you have to believe" schtick. Perhaps it wasn't as thought through by the writer, but it can be read into much deeper. The ending of "Through the Looking Glass", as well as dialogue from Tweedledee & Tweedledum, suggested that these stories were not dreams of Alice but dreams of the story teller. It all gets a bit meta when we talk dreams about dreams but you don't really need to dwell on it too much.
A final thought goes to how much attention was payed to the Jabberwocky poem. In the book the poem plays no significant role to the story on a whole, even its creatures are not considered as chess-pieces by Carroll's "Dramatis Personae". I have more to say about the Jabberwocky in another post, once I am able to post pictures again.
Well that's it, that's all I have to say. Stay in school, read more books, and I'll see you in court.
FIRST NOTE: SPOILERS!!
I will not hold back on stating anything that could be a potential spoiler, as this post is more intended for those who have already seen the film.
SECOND NOTE: I GIVE IT ZERO STARS!
To get this out of the way before hand I will say now that I did not like this film, so you can expect the kind of tone my writing will be. This should not discourage anyone to not see the film, rather, one should watch this movie and share their thoughts based on one's individual experience.
THIRD NOTE: I WATCHED IT IN 3D, FOR FREE.
The film was shot in 2D and converted in post-production. The 3rd dimension was not spectacular enough for me to warrant sitting through the entire feature-length with the discomfort of the one-size-fits-all glasses. Basically, it was no where near the immersion you'd expect after seeing "Avatar" in 3D, so I suggest seeing this film in 2D on a day when tickets are on discount.
PART ONE: WHAT I DID NOT LIKE
I found this movie abysmal. The saddest part is that it looked fantastic and the design was amazing, yet all this talent was gone to waste on such clumsy story-telling. I feel the best place to begin my elaboration is on the leading lady herself: Alice.
Alice was too erotic. She was sexy, but not too permiscuous. The result is a fine balance which should be able to please the majority of the audience. As she shrinks or grows, her dresses do not shrink or grow with her (which I thought was a clever idea). When Alice shows off her body the sex-appeal is enough to turn heads of a male audience, yet her beauty and self-confidence will bring out admiration from the female audience. It sounds like a perfect plan on paper, yet it somehow diminishes any interesting qualities in her character. If she is too busy thinking about how her dresses are fitting it is any wonder how she is capable of carrying the plot forward. There is nothing wrong with a good fashion sense in film, the dresses were very lovely indeed (although perhaps more suited to the catwalk over any practical use), but they should not get in the way of the story unless they have a purpose. Take for example the film "The Devil Wears Prada". Despite its disappointing ending (I think she should have stayed with the magazine) it is a great example of a fashion-driven movie, as it is a story about fashion-journalism. In Tim Burton's "Alice", the fashion seems to serve no other purpose than diverting the viewer's attention from the sloppy writing. This film was not so much movie-magic but a movie-magic-trick. The razzle-dazzle graphics are like this wavering hand which distracts your gaze from the other hand reaching into a pocket, except instead of pulling out a coin or some object the hand stays in the pocket and furiously masturbates. The other hand just keeps on waving about yet some of us have already noticed the pocket and all we are waiting for is to see how much of a load he's going to shoot in his pants.
It is about time I discuss what it is about this story I found made it so awful. I imagine the screenwriter (Disney's all-time hack Linda Woolverton) probably thought the "Alice" books would have been better written by J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis. Either way I could not seem to find any appreciation for Lewis Carroll in it whatsoever, in terms of the story that is, I must stress I loved the visual designs of the movie.
There were many moments in this film I deemed Tolkienesque; riding on the backs of large beasts, menacing flying monsters, when the Hatter was reciting the Jabberwocky poem as if it were a legend of history, big castles, etc. The most obvious Tolkienesque moment staring you right in the face is the large battle sequence - the ultimate showdown - except the sequence felt like it was handled like the croquet-game in the book (was it intentional?). It all ended up very silly, no sense of real danger to "our favourite" characters. After all, they are merely fighting a bunch of vector floating-points generated from computer software. I'm not saying that a sense of danger can't be achieved with CGI, as long as the story is told well enough for the viewer to suspend their disbelief and build up enough interest in a character for us to care about. The best example in my opinion is Golem from Peter Jackson's "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, but you can't get more Tolkienesque than Tolkien. I think the writer should have stuck with being Carrollian.
Among many downsides to the story, I think the biggest culprit is the Cheshire Cat. The execution of the cat was flawless; the design, the animation and Stephen Fry's voice - all perfect, all wasted on his role as the biggest pitfall of the story - to be used as a device for the writer to resolve any challenge, any obsticle, as they see fit, also known as the "God Machine". If you think about it, the film never explains what the Cheshire Cat can't do. We see him de-materialise, re-materialise, fly, grow, shrink, transform to perfect detail into another character (save for his eyes and grin, kind of like a pokémon?) and oh yeah - you see that moon? That's actually the Cheshire Cat! One can argue that his allegiance belongs neither to the red side or the white, he acts upon his own motivations, except that he's always conveniently helping the good guys. To think, the Hatter managed to escape the Red Castle with Tweedledum & Tweedledee, with the Dormouse and with the dog's wife and pups all unscathed all because the Cheshire Cat wanted to wear the Hatter's hat! An idea struck me - imagine if the Cheshire Cat was the villian. The story would become at least a hundred times more compelling! Imagine the ultimate challenge is to defeat the Deus ex-Machina himself! Alice would have more reason to break down and cry, just at the hopelessness of it all. The Jabberwocky would not even stand a chance, Cheshire Cat would swallow it whole and then vanish like it never existed. Then everything doesn't have to be resolved. Alice could end up doing more harm to "Underland" than good, but just the task of defeating the Cheshire Cat alone would render enough catharsis from the story. An example of this kind of story can be found in Werner Herzog's "Fitzcarraldo". The protaginist ultimately failed in his goal in building an opera-house, but still accomplished the colossal feat of shifting a boat over a mountain! It was a real live boat too, no scale-models, special effects or studio tricks. Of course it is debatable wheter one considres "Fitzcarraldo" a good film, but in the end you can claim you have had a real film experience. Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland" left me feeling defeated, like realising Alice died a long time ago and this is the final nail in the coffin. I feel even more defeated in that I might be in a minority of a minority of those who thought this was a bad film.
PART ONE POINT FIVE: OTHER THINGS I DID NOT LIKE
The pacing was too erratic. Many parts were slow or fast at random, a lot of things were dwelt on that had no relevence or point, any thing that did have relevence or plot-movement was rushed. It felt like there was this one deleted scene, which forced a huge chain upon chains of other scenes to be taken out. There was a definitely a whole air of something missing. I felt cheated as we rush straight to the mad tea party, it's about the second thing that happens to Alice once she walks through the door. From there we are introduced to the Hatter, whose presence remains throughout the entire film. He kind of wears out his welcome, mostly due to his madness being toned down (or 'held back'). And his dance at the end? After all that build up? I could have cried. Whether the dance works for the film or not is debatable, but I didn't like it.
If there were something missing in this film it would be a whole cast of other interesting characters. Off the top of my head I would have liked to see Tim Burton handle the Gryphon, the Mock Turtle, the Newspaper-man, the Goat, the Lion & the Unicorn, the Sheep, Humpty Dumpty, maybe even the Walrus & the Carpenter. We are only stuck with the most popular or widely known characters, ones that people who haven't read the books would even know about. Come to think of it, whatever happened to the Dodo anyay?
I found Alice to be rather bland and uninteresting, when you look past all the nice clothes she wears. In the story it is noted she has lost much of her "muchness", yet even as she regains her "muchness" (could it pinpoint down to when she crosses the moat to enter the Red Castle?) there isn't much there.
The film was far too over-scored. A typical treatment one might notice in high-budget studio films is when they are drowned from start-to-finish in music. It has been proven that if you want intensity, take the music out! Exciting, swelling fast paced score will destroy the mood by the fact that it's trying to dictate it. When there is a tender emotional moment, the cliché violin will only serve to break away your empathy. Music can serve many purposes, it can even set a mood, but what it can't do is take you on a rollercoaster of mood-swings, especially on a film as erratic as this one.
Lastly, that parchment-thing with the illustration of Alice slaying the Jabberwocky (a nod to John Tenniel I'm sure), just where the heck did it come from?!
PART TWO: THINGS I DID LIKE
As I have stated before, I loved the visual interpretations of the characters, I only wish there were more characters and that they were written better.
I thought the floating heads in the moat were morbidly awesome. When Alice had to climb over them, and her foot fell into the gaping mouth, was delightfully creepy.
I always love to see visual interpretations of events in the book, especially the obscure events or if they were handled differently. I was a bit unsure with seeing Alice fall down the rabbit-hole so quickly, but it went on for a fairly long time which brought me momentary satisfaction. She lands hard on the floor, as if it barely hurt, so once again I'm confused as to whether we have warped gravity or Tim Burton just being weird. My answer arrives when we discover Alice is really upside-down and falls through another floor - Tim Burton is just being weird. It is around here where Alice goes through the routine of the events in the book; she tries all doors, key on table, tries key on doors, finds little door behind curtain, key works, can't fit through, drinks from labelled bottle, shrinks, forgot key on table - we break away from the routine when a couple of omnipresent voice-overs discuss "you think she'd remember all this from before", "I told you she's not the right Alice!", I almost begin to switch off but then Alice finds the cake, eats cake, grows, gets stuck, and it's here that she doesn't cry, so then I switch off again. What I noticed what was unique to this interpretation was how Alice does not talk or think to herself as she does so much in the book and other films. This allowed the scene to be played out more like a routine, rather than an adaptation, and it gave way to a more smoother pacing, which for some reason I really enjoyed.
One more brief moment I liked was a shot of the Hatter in prison, similar to an event in "Through the Looking Glass" where the White Queen relays this information to Alice, there was an illustration of "Hatta" in prison by John Tenniel, so I found that particular shot in the film interesting, whether it is what they intended or not.
FINALLY: ISSUES I TAKE NEUTRALITY WITH
When a writer feels they need to diverge away from the story of the book, this is a valid form of creativity. What went wrong here is the drastic changes to the heroine. Granted, she is grown up, but the book had the character portrayed so right - you fall in love with Alice much more than you'd want to have sex with her, even if you were as much of a pedophile as Lewis Carroll himself - and the film failed to accomplish this. Fortunately you don't have to be a pedophile this time around to find Alice sexy.
In diverging from the books (even for those who aren't) it is common-practice to cross elements from Looking Glass into Wonderland. This time we have "Underland", probably a portmanteau of the original manuscript's "Under Ground" and "Wonderland" (as the film describes Alice as simply misinterpreting when she was little). I often describe crossing the two books as "playing chess with a pack of cards", only that's what sort of happens in the film anyway. At least I was assured that when we entered through the rabbit-hole and not through the looking glass there would be no clever Looking Glass logic or intricate chess-game structure.
I thought I'd have an issue with the merging of the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts, but it surprisingly worked well i.e. from a design standpoint. It contributed to the story as a Red Queen having an ironic fascination with the heart symbol - as a pre-ordained desire to be loved more than feared - versus the White Queen, who I can't really describe more than any kind of symbolic interpretation of whiteness can. The merging of Red Queen and Queen of Hearts is complimented by the Red Knight being merged with the Knave of Hearts. I thought it was an interesting idea to get to know the Red Knight more up close and personal, as we are hardly acquainted with him in the book, it becomes an area open to creative licence.
An unlikely merging was that of the March-Hare and the Duchess' Cook, I don't have much comment on that.
I don't take issue with "Underland" being a real place rather than Alice's dream, as much as I hate the whole "you have to believe" schtick. Perhaps it wasn't as thought through by the writer, but it can be read into much deeper. The ending of "Through the Looking Glass", as well as dialogue from Tweedledee & Tweedledum, suggested that these stories were not dreams of Alice but dreams of the story teller. It all gets a bit meta when we talk dreams about dreams but you don't really need to dwell on it too much.
A final thought goes to how much attention was payed to the Jabberwocky poem. In the book the poem plays no significant role to the story on a whole, even its creatures are not considered as chess-pieces by Carroll's "Dramatis Personae". I have more to say about the Jabberwocky in another post, once I am able to post pictures again.
Well that's it, that's all I have to say. Stay in school, read more books, and I'll see you in court.
computer died
I am out of action until I buy a new one (something that's been a long time coming).
I am posting this from my PS3, but the browser is really basic, I can't post images or anything fancy!
agh
I am posting this from my PS3, but the browser is really basic, I can't post images or anything fancy!
agh
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