HITCHCOCK-BLOCKED

(This post will remain pictureless)

1.
I have recently been going on an Alfred Hitchcock-spree, not so much "getting into" his movies but more like "catching up". I've already seen PSYCHO and I think enough has been said about that movie by others so I will not go into length about it right now. I recently caught up with ROPE, which I consider more of an experiment rather than a film, however I still enjoyed it and not much needs to be said other than appreciating it for its technical feats (and follies) --NOTE: between writing the first draft of this post and now I also saw THE BIRDS and it was fantastic, but will require its own posting after this-- The film I will be discussing here is VERTIGO, but first I must express my feelings towards Hitchcock in general.

2.
I am not a Hitchcock fan. The closest I can get to love the majority of his work is if I loved to hate them (THE BIRDS and ROPE excluded). The reasons why will be discussed using VERTIGO as the prime example, but the fact remains is that Hitchcock is a lasting influence for film-makers and story tellers to this day, if not then he is an influence of the influences. I can understand this, although I'm a fan of Orson Welles and he is considered influential to Hitchcock (compare TOUCH OF EVIL where Janet Leigh gets into trouble at an out-of-way motel with PSYCHO where Janet Leigh gets into trouble at an out-of-way motel). Hitchcock did things differently and told stories in new and exciting ways, in doing so creating everlasting conventions which have stuck with the modern film-makers of our time. Very often you find people making films refering to a scene as a "Hitchcock moment" or talking about "what Hitchcock would do", so where else is a better place to look for the leading moments of cinema than from the leader himself? This is when I decided to watch VERTIGO.

3.
VERTIGO contains everything I love and hate about Hitchcock. VERTIGO was apparently Hitchcock's "personal masterpiece", the one he self-indulged in the most out of all his films, the one he had to struggle with the most to get made. All the greats have them: Miyazaki has PRINCESS MONONOKE, Kubrick has EYES WIDE SHUT, Welles has CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT, Hanake has TIME OF THE WOLF, Kurasawa has RAN and Werner Herzog has just about every film he's ever made. These are the films that are the most difficult to sit through but the most revealing of its creator; and the most rewarding to the creator's ardent fans. You only really watch them in order to understand your heroes on a more personal level, like they are opening up their deepest secrets and fears just for you, but you have to prove your worth by actually making it to the end of the film first (not as easy as it sounds), then you can start appreciating the depth of what you just saw. Research is an important factor in understanding these types of movies, it's equally important to have seen the entire body of work from the director, or as much as you possibly can. Naturally, I dived right into VERTIGO without doing any of this, so my review will be biased towards the more "casual viewer" mentality.

4.
VERTIGO suffers from an ailment in film-maiking I call the "Hitchcock Stale". Many horror movies and, oddly enough, comic-book adaptations suffer from this. It's not to say Hitchcock invented it, but Hitchcock truly defines it and mastered it as his trademark. The "Hitchcock Stale" is made up of a combination of many symptoms, mainly to do with the director's total demand for complete control. Firstly, Hitchcock commisions a script to be written, commonly adapted from a book - sometimes the book is commissioned by Hitchcock - and adapted by a rotation of screenwriters. Once the script is approved by Hitchcock then he will never deviate from it. These scripts, by the way, are written more like shot-lists; basically the movie is already made before it is even filmed. It is frustrating for me when I can clearly notice a film-maker unable to "let go", the ones who suffer the most are the actors. The actors are not given any breathing room to give life to their characters. The spoken lines are flatly delivered, the movements are mechanical. I don't think it should be required of me to pay extra attention to a casual mundane conversation when it reveals required exposition. It's hard enough in an Orson Welles movie where he constantly provides visual distractions during an important complex conversation, Hitchcock on the other hand is boring me to sleep.

Another symptom of "Hitchcock Stale" is almost metaphorically egregious in VERTIGO. The protagonist's acrophobia - irrational fear of heights - seems to reflect Hitchcock's irrational fear of shooting on location. I wouldn't be surprised if all the outside scenes were shot by second-unit. A particular moment of conspicuous staleness is a scene with James Stewart and Kim Novac supposedly on a bay of rocks by the ocean, but obviously super-imposed over a pre-photographed movie behind them (including complimentary fake wind generated by off-screen fan). Hitchcock believes that close-ups must be shot with studio lighting, however I'm too distracted by the studio lighting on the actors mis-matching with the natural lighting of the outside location (a common problem that is noticeable on compositing special effects to this day). I'm guessing Hitchcock wanted to time a specific tidal-crash to a specific point of the conversation, but really, who cares?

5.
Despite its staleness, there are parts of VERTIGO I found extremely impressive, and I see in these parts where the Hitchcock inspiration comes from. Perhaps Hitchcock's inability to "let go" comes from the great ideas he has to tell a story. I think the parts that shine the most in VERTIGO are the parts where Hitchcock puts faith in his collaborators. After a particularly long and boring expositional conversation (where I mentioned I nearly fell asleep) there is an extremely long set of scenes - almost like a slowed down montage - that eliminates dialogue altogether. It is here when the music of Bernard Hermann does the talking and I was able to become emersed in the world of the film. I don't know whether it's true or not that Hitchcock snatched Hermann from seeing CITIZEN KANE, but he certainly saw the benefits of putting more trust in the composer than anyone else (Bernard Hermann was even given credit as "sound adviser" on THE BIRDS, which was a scoreless movie save for the synthesised bird sounds).

I liked the editing of VERTIGO. There is a particular moment when James Stewart is following a car that seems to drive endlessly down-hill, which we can see is an editing trick that cuts out any flat-road or up-hill driving, but also an editing effect which expertly inserts the protagonist's distorted perspective into the viewer. Another distorting effect on the viewer is when it gives an "ending" about half-way through the film, and then provides a coda which seems to keep going and going, then you realise after thirty minutes or so that maybe there is more to the story, and you have to kind of re-position yourself to get back into the movie again. Unless that's just me, I don't know.

6.


(more to come)

IF HANEKE MADE A SUPERHERO MOVIE

When I went and saw Kick Ass, thanks to the highly esteemed recommendation from a friend - whose opinion I trust - it was unfortunate that I was gritting my teeth through the whole film and could only breathe a sigh of relief when the credits rolled so I could get the hell out (I only sat through the whole movie to give it the benefit of the doubt, thanks to the "friend"). My thoughts while watching it were "what the heck are they doing? How can our society take such backwards strides into its own depravity?! Do these people know what they are?" and I realise it is because I have already previously seen Funny Games - multiple times - and Kick Ass seems to obvliviously commit every sin that Haneke has been criticising all these years, not to mention other master film makers like Sergio Leone, Kubrick, Orson Welles, Scorcese and even Tarantino. These sins include - glorifying violence for the sake of being so bloody it loses any effect, which includes the act of drawing out the violence for an extremely long time, being unaware that the viewer is an accomplice to the acts of violence this is also a very sadistic thing to do. There is no build up to the violence, the violence doesn't happen in quick bursts. I figured it was universally known that violence in cinema is about an emotional response, therefore it must be over almost just as it started, so that the pain of the act lingers as we have to think about it. If the violence is drawn out then the effect is quickly drained and all we are left to think about is what kind of make-up job did the actor(s) have to get to make it look like they're so bruised and bloody. Kick Ass has its few moments of genuine shock value, but they amount to nothing if the rest of the film is just some escapist teenage high school drama. Its overuse of campy indie-music soundtrack and lazy voice-over narrative doesn't help the film either.

I propose a thought experiment. The premise is this: What would a comic-book superhero movie be like if it was made by Michael Haneke? Now there is already a superhero deconstructionist story in Watchmen, yet I think Zack Snyder's film also suffers from the same sins as Kick Ass; explicit on-screen gore, choreographed fight scenes, over-indulgence in music choices which only devalues the intensity of the story and the power of music itself. Watchmen was a good effort, I particularly loved the opening sequences, but it suffered from style-over-substance which could not keep up with how well written the graphic novel is. I propose a different kind of superhero movie, and this is it how it might turn out:

All of a sudden, brutal acts of violence are cropping up around the city against criminals, who are all usually killed in some horribly painful way and left with a note signed by the mysterious masked vigilante. There is one criminal who survives but is in a critical state and remains in hospital. The masked vigilante's identity is never revealed throughout the movie, but we have our suspicions on an ensemble of cast memebers who are effected by the events. Is it the nurse who watches over the hospitalised criminal (who also takes martial arts classes for necessary self defense)? Is it the police man (or woman?) who is working on the case to find the masked vigilante, and who is also trained in martial arts? Is it the journalist who is covering the story? The vigilante is covered in the media in negative bias, but we learn the public have a secret yearning for a "hero" and lap up all the sensationalisation in the news. After some brutal confrontation, the next note left by the "hero" is leeked to the newspapers and published in full. It says that the next criminal to be caught will face a public execution. Tensions rise in the air, but finally a gang of twenty or so criminals plan a mass escapade of crime. The hospitalised criminal eventually dies and his daughter is now orphaned, she starts taking martial arts classes and the first thing she is taught is that the art of fighting is to "fight without fighting". That night the large gang of criminals go on a spree and sure enough our "hero" shows up and displays an inhuman fighting power - twisting the words "fighting without fighting" to a dark interpretation being more like a one-sided slaughterfest. None of the violence is explicitly shown on screen which only makes it more visceral (except maybe an arm break). Naturally the music will only be diegetic, else none at all - long moments of stark silence to represent the tension of piling guilt. The next morning will reveal the shocking climax, all criminals in the gang are hanging by their necks in the area for all the public to witness in horror. Following this is a public outcry through the media leading to the politicians announcing a decree of vengeance against the "masked villian who has overstepped the line of vigilanteism". Finally, the costume is burned in small fire in the outskirts of the city, the shadowy stranger walks away in the night, never to be known. Oh yeah, and the children will cry at some point.

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.