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Director Profile: RON HOWARD

11/10/2014

Written by Anthony Watkins

Over the past several decades, very few Hollywood directors have risen to the top in the manner of two-time Academy Award winner Ron Howard. Born on March 1, 1954 in Duncan, Oklahoma, Howard was raised in a film-oriented family, as his mother was an actress and his father was an actor and director.

Howard was put into the film business at an extremely early age, as his first screen appearance came in Frontier Woman (Ron Ormond, 1956) when he was just 18 months old. Furthermore, his first theatre experience came in a production of The Seven Year Itch when he was merely 2 years old. From here, he began to make several appearances in television shows. Following these appearances, Howard soon made an appearance in his first feature film, The Journey (Anatole Litvak, 1959), starring opposite Yul Brynner, Deborah Kerr, and Jason Robards. For his strong performance in the film, Howard was soon approached by several producers, and earned a regular role in the TV series Playhouse 90 (Biography). Importantly, it was during this time that his father closely monitored him to prevent exploitation by directors, as his presence as a child actor was rapidly growing. Howard was given confidence while acting in that his father always made time to be on set with him (Fandango).

Howard gained much attention for these early roles; however, it was the role of Opie Taylor on The Andy Griffith Show that really jumpstarted his career. Playing Andy Griffith’s six year old mischievous but adorable and lovable son, Howard gained fame across the nation as a talented child actor. His parents, and in particular his father, closely monitored Howard’s shooting schedule and ensured that he still had a productive and authentic childhood. His father also insisted he get a good education, and placed Howard in public school (Biography).

Ron Howard charmed audiences with his portrayal of "Opie Taylor" in the hit TV series The Andy Griffith Show, which ran from 1960-1968.

After The Andy Griffith Show came to a close in 1968, Howard maintained his presence as an actor and made a smooth transition to The Smith Family, starring opposite Henry Fonda, who became one of his mentors who encouraged him to pursue creative growth. After the close of The Smith Family after one season, Howard attended the University of Southern California’s film school, being interested in film since experimenting with a super-8 camera when he was 15 years old. However, his time at the university was cut short as he was cast in a role in George Lucas’ American Grafitti (1973). The film ended up inspiring the hit TV series Happy Days, for which Howard landed the role of Richie Cunningham. His role in the series skyrocketed his already well-established stardom. He also appeared in feature films during breaks of the show. One of these films was The Shootist (Don Siegel, 1976), in which he starred alongside John Wayne and Lauren Bacall, and what turned out to be John Wayne’s final film.

Howard's role as "Richie Cunningham" in the hit TV show Happy Days further elevated his status as a talented actor in Hollywood.

Directorial Debut

In his early twenties, Howard wanted to pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a director. Producer Roger Corman, who cast Howard in Eat My Dust! (1976), helped make that dream a reality by letting him direct Grand Theft Auto (1976). Notably, Howard also co-wrote the screenplay with his father and starred in the film. Overall, the directional debut of Howard turned out to be a success, as critics praised the film for its fast pacing and action sequences (Fandango).

Howard successfully launched his career as a director in 1976 with Grand Theft Auto. Written together with his father, the film focuses on a rich girl who steals her dad's Rolls Royce and heads to Las Vegas to get married.

After leaving Happy Days in 1980, Howard focused his attention solely on directing. He met and solidified a relationship with producer Brian Grazer in 1981, and they partnered to direct and produce the dark comedy Nightshift in 1982. The film became Howard’s first hit as a director, and led to another partnership with Grazer for the hit comedy Splash with Tom Hanks, Darryl Hannah, and John Candy in 1984. The film would go on to be Touchstone Pictures’ most successful live-action film to date. A year later, Howard directed the 2-time Academy Award winning film Cocoon, a film that firmly cemented his reputation as a Hollywood director.

In 1985, Howard founded a production company, Imagine Films Entertainment, with his recent producer Grazer. He would use this company to produce several of his films in the ‘90’s, including Backdraft (1991), Apollo 13 (1995), and Ransom (1996). Apollo 13 was an international smash hit detailing the failed and nearly disastrous 1970 mission to the moon. The film reunited Howard with Tom Hanks, and the film garnered 9 Oscar nominations, winning 2 for Best Sound and Best Film Editing. For the film, Howard also received the prized Director’s Guild Award (Fandango).

Apollo 13 is Ron Howard's most critically and commercially successful film to date. Featuring a star-studded cast and strong performances in Tom Hanks, Kevin Bacon, and Bill Paxton, the film re-tells the dramatic and heroic 1970 failed mission to the moon.

Howard came out on top in 2002 with his film A Beautiful Mind, a film starring Russell Crowe that focuses on a brilliant, but socially withdrawn mathematician who’s life takes an extreme turn for the worst. A Beautiful Mind was nominated for 8 Oscars and won 4, including the highly-prized Best Picture Oscar as well as Best Director for Howard.

After A Beautiful Mind, Howard continued to produce critically and commercially successful films, including Cinderalla Man (2005) and The Da Vinci Code (2006). In 2008, he directed Frost/Nixon, for which he received an Oscar nomination for Best Achievement in Directing, and in 2009 he directed The Da Vinci Code’s sequel Angels and Demons. Most recently, he directed Rush (2013), a film starring Chris Hemsworth detailing the intense rivalry between British and Austrian racers James Hunt and Niki Lauda. He is currently in post-production on In the Heart of the Sea, which tells the true story of the 1820 whaling ship incident that left the crew adrift for 90 days.

Today, Howard remains married to his high school sweetheart Cheryl, whom he married in 1975 during his run on Happy Days. They have 4 children together.

Trademarks

Ron Howard has worked in very diverse genres throughout his illustrious career, from comedy (Splash, Gung Ho), drama (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind, Frost/Nixon), thriller (The Da Vinci Code, Angels and Demons), fantasy (Willow, How the Grinch Stole Christmas) and even western (The Missing). Despite all these different genres, Howard has also demonstrated an affinity for similarly-categorized films. For instance, he has done several films based on historical events (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind, Cinderella Man, Frost/Nixon, Rush, In the Heart of the Sea). Typically, these events are ones he personally lived through, and he uses this to his advantage in order to make them more realistic and authentic (Perno). Another category he has explored is the “man and machine” area (Grand Theft Auto, Apollo 13, Rush). So as you can see, despite exploring different genres, he has still produced closely related films.

Other trademarks include people he works with: he typically hires James Horner to compose his film scores (Cocoon, Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind) and typically casts A-list actors, including Tom Hanks (Apollo 13, The Da Vinci Code, Angels and Demons) and Russell Crowe (A Beautiful Mind, Cinderella Man). Finally, he typically casts his father Rance Howard (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind) and brother Clint Howard (Apollo 13, How the Grinch Stole Christmas) in supporting roles.

Works Cited

IMDB. 2014. 26 Oct. 2014. <http://www.imdb.com>.

Perno, G.S. “Director’s Trademarks: Ron Howard.” Cinelinx. 2013. 26 Oct. 2014. <http://www.cinelinx.com/movie-stuff/item/4661-directors-trademarks-ron-howard.html>.

“Ron Howard.” The Biography Channel. 2014. 26 Oct. 2014. <http://www.biography.com/people/ron-howard-9542185#synopsis>.

“Ron Howard Biography.” Fandango. 2014. 26 Oct. 2014. <http://www.fandango.com/ronhoward/biography/P94983>.

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Reboots, Reboots Everywhere!

11/9/2014

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Three generations of Batman reboots. From left to right: Adam West (1966), Christian Bale (2008), and George Clooney (1997).

Last week, I discussed my belief that remakes have an unnecessarily bad reputation. Though I discussed many of the conventional ways that movies use to continue stories (such as sequels, prequels, and remakes) I did not touch on one that is becoming increasingly popular with studios these days: the reboot. In fact the reboot is so new that trying to define it on its own is rather difficult.

A reboot is something of a mystery. Most of the time it appears to be simply a remake with a few more liberties taken with the source material than usual, as in the case of Friday the 13th (Nispel, 2009), and The Amazing Spiderman (Webb, 2012). Frequently it looks like a sequel but with all of the main characters suddenly ignorant of any of the events of the first film, as in the case of The Incredible Hulk (Leterrier, 2008), and Evil Dead 2 (Raimi, 1987). Sometimes it even looks like a prequel, but at the end of the movie a sudden plot twist makes it so that the original story could never have happened, as in the case of Star Trek (Abrams, 2009), and Highlander: Endgame (Aarniokoski, 2000). That’s the trouble with reboots; they have so little identity to themselves that they are hard to define.

Essentially the difference between a reboot and anything else is that a reboot is designed to remove from a franchise any unwanted bits of continuity that could get in the way of sequels. The reboot is a way of streamlining a franchise down to only the bits necessary to continue forward as a film series instead of burning itself out prematurely. This way even after an audience has grown tired of the direction the franchise’s story has taken, a new director, writer, producer, actor, or all of the above, can come in and change the story completely, or even just slightly, to fit the audience's taste. They’re not remakes because (most of the time) they’re still telling a new story; it’s just that continuity has now been changed so that none of the other stories we’ve seen ever happened, or if they did they happened in a slightly different way.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. On the left: Leonard Nemoy as Mr. Spock and William Shatner as Captain Kirk. On the right: Zachary Levi and Chris Pine taking up the same roles respectively.

For instance, Casino Royale (Campbell, 2006) is an adaptation of Ian Fleming’s novel of the same name featuring his most famous creation: Super-spy James Bond. There have been many adaptations of Ian Fleming’s books and short stories as well as original Bond stories in this franchise before, but in Casino Royale we see a James Bond who is much younger, and more inexperienced, than the one we knew. The previous Bond films kept continuity between them from Dr. No (Young, 1962) all the way to Die Another Day (Tamahori, 2002), creating the impression that Bond was immortal. In the last few films, Judi Dench was introduced as a new character who took on the position of “M”, Bond’s boss. In Casino Royale she’s still there training an inexperienced Bond on his first mission. Originally Bond was a secret agent who’d been in operation since the 60’s, but now he’s a young man helping MI6 take down terrorists in the modern era. As Casino Royale was never adapted as a film within this franchise before, it is technically a new story; yet continuity has been carefully reshuffled to turn Bond into a far younger more relatable action hero a-la the Bourne series for the audience’s approval.

Actually the concept of the reboot existed long before the aughts, but no one gave it a name until just recently. All the way back in 1940 The Mummy’s Hand (Cabanne, 1940) was released as a sequel to the Universal classic The Mummy (Freund, 1932). However in the film the Mummy has a slightly different backstory, is brought back to life through magic tea rather than by a magic scroll, walks around in bandages rather than dressed like a normal person, and has a different name ("Im-Ho-Tep" in the original, now "Kharis"). The aforementioned Evil Dead 2 (Raimi, 1987) has a short scene at the beginning which restages all of the events of the original film as only taking place in a single night to only two people, as opposed to taking place over several nights to a whole bunch of people like in the original.

The Mummy as played by Boris Karloff in 1932.

And by Tom Tyler in 1940.

Reboots have become extremely popular in recent years. Studios tend to now refer to most of their upcoming projects as reboots, whether they fit the description or not. Even Transformers 4 (Bay, 2014) had early marketing that referred to it as a reboot. The appeal seems to be that if a film doesn’t perform well, or is reviewed negatively, the studio reboots the franchise, deleting the offending film and in effect saying to the audience, “Yes, we know you were disappointed in that last one, but it is all better now.” It is almost the opposite effect from a remake. Instead of making the fans feel betrayed by “replacing” something they loved, studios not only replace something fans weren’t fond of, but they also give a brand new story separate from what they may have liked about the original.

The danger with reboots of course is that sometimes producers can become overly reliant on them to the detriment of the franchises they are attached too. Franchises like Godzilla, The Highlander, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre have been rebooted almost too many times to count, leaving some fans confused and a little frustrated. Some studios have started rebooting franchises just because of the popularity boosts that it has given to other franchises. After the conclusion of the wildly popular Dark Knight Trilogy brought Batman back into the pop culture main stream, Warner Brothers decided to reboot Batman in a team up movie with Henry Cavill's Superman. True the ending of that trilogy was intended as a literal ending of Batman's career, but the studio didn't need to leave it like that. After all in the source material Batman has retired, gone missing, and even died, and he always goes back to work the next day. But no they decided that a reboot was the best medicine for the franchise.

On the left: Spiderman (Raimi, 2002) On the right: The Amazing Spiderman (Webb, 2012).

Well good on them for respecting Christopher Nolan's work, but I still find this trend troubling. Personally I am a fan of long winded stories and large mythical universes. I like film franchises like Star Wars, Star Trek, or the Universal monster films from the 30's and 40's. I like to come up with new ways that the story can continue, new places that could be explored, or character development to be had. Thankfully there are still a lot of people who agree with me. The Marvel Cinematic alone has enough universe building material to keep my continuity loving heart happy for years. However, even through my curmudgeonly eyes reboots do hold an important place in film history and in the box office, and I have no doubt that for better or for worse they will be with us for a long time.

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Judging The Judge

11/7/2014

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By Billy Martel

I was very excited for this film when I first saw the trailer. One of my favorite modern day celebrities (Robert Downey Jr.) was teaming up with one of my all-time favorite actors (Robert Duvall) to make what looked like a beautifully shot, well acted character study. I was surprised therefore when most of the reviews were less than kind. Many reviewers called the film cliché, saying that while the performances were good it is “surprising how little we care about these characters” (Richard Roeper) and is “destined to preside over a large jurisdiction of the basic cable afternoon-viewing circuit” (Rotten Tomatoes). I didn’t want to believe it, so I went to the theater to see for myself.

The Judge (Dobkin, 2014) begins with slimy, big city lawyer Hank Palmer (Robert Downey Jr.) getting a call that his mother has passed away. He travels home for the first time in many years to see his long estranged family and friends, and to attend his mother’s funeral. No matter how uncomfortable any of that might be however, it’s nothing compared to his interactions with his father Judge Joseph Palmer (Robert Duvall), possibly the most principled and ornery human being on the planet. Needless to say Hank can’t wait to get away from it all, but a sudden murder charge against the aging Judge causes Hank to rush to his father’s aid. What secrets and lies between these two men have caused them to hate each other so much? And will they be able to work through their differences and win the case?

I disagree with other critics on a lot of points with this film. Mainly the stance that it’s hard to care about the characters. I will concede that there is a lot to dislike about the characters, but I think that is part of the point of the film. Most films with this kind of story, where a father and son have to work past their differences, seem to pick a side from the outset. One of my favorite films with this plot device, Big Fish (Burton, 2003), clearly paints the son as a jerk and the dad as a hero from the beginning. It’s only a matter of time before the son must realize the error of his ways and see how awesome his dad really is. However in this film both characters are jerks. Both of them have done horrible things to the other, and both are unwilling to see themselves as anything but the victims in their relationship. And so it makes it that much more powerful when they do eventually start to see things from each other’s points of view.

From left to right: Jeremy Strong as Dale Palmer, Robert Downey Jr. as Hank Palmer, and Vincent D'Onofrio as Glen Palmer (a character crucial to the plot yet all too quickly forgotten by the climax.)

I will also concede to the point that beyond the main twosome there is not much else interesting in the film. There is some interesting commentary on issues of divorce, incest, parenting, family, love, commitment, fear, and of course justice, but it’s always discussed in how it affects the leads. The other cast members are doing their best to keep up, and there are a few good scenes involving Hank’s youngest brother Dale (Jeremy Strong), and his ex-girlfriend Samantha (Vera Farmiga). But most of the cast, and the film, sinks into the background and becomes filler around the few crucial scenes between the two heavys. The direction and cinematography are a mixed bag. This film had some truly beautiful shots. They pulled out every lighting, camera, and even sound mixing trick in the book to make sure they got every bit of symbolism they could out of this script. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. There’s a balance to cinematography between what’s pretty, and what serves the needs of the story. Sometimes the shots in this film hit that sweet spot where both were achieved beautifully, and other times it felt as if they had sacrificed good sense for a pretty picture.

Overall the biggest strength of the film is also why I think so many critics are responding negatively to it. It’s a very unpleasant film to watch. The cold almost medical lighting killed the family friendly, down home feel that most movies of this type tend to have. Robert Downey Jr. was just as fast and witty as he usually is but with a certain menace that I had not seen before, playing a man who has made every mistake a man can make and is yet still fiercely defensive of his own pride. His performance was far more relatable than I’ve ever seen him as he consistently found a human pathos and humor in the life of a truly twisted and broken man. Robert Duvall is to my mind one of the greatest actors to ever grace the silver screen, and this role was no exception. Much like Downey, Duvall’s character was equal parts sympathetic and intimidating. He plays man who has allowed his principles to replace his compassion, and pride his common sense. The film has a frank attitude about life and all the most embarrassing, horrible, and yet defining moments in adulthood. That’s not to say that everything in the film is universal. But it is a more common story than it would have been years ago. The nuclear family is a rabidly disintegrating concept in this day and age, and stories like the Palmers are all too common. In that regard whether or not you think that The Judge is a “good” film, I at least think it is an important one, and a must see for people like me who love watching some of the world’s greatest acting talent fight on camera. 6 out of 10.

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Dracula as a Superhero, Reviewing Dracula Untold

11/6/2014

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By Scott Orris

Dracula Untold (Gary Shore, 2014) is unlike any other adaptation of the famous title character ever produced. The film focuses on the “untold” origin of Dracula, which links Bram Stoker’s fictional character to it’s inspiration, the historic Vlad “Dracula” or “Vlad the Impaler.” But the even more striking “untold” aspect to this depiction of Dracula (played capably by Luke Evans), is turning him into a sympathetic character. In this film, Dracula is not the evil villainous blood sucker commonally associated with the character. When we think about Dracula, we usually think of Bela Lugosi as this prototype of the evil villianious vampire, with the hooded cape, high widows peak, and those slow spoken lines in a heavy Hungarian accent, these are essentially the characteristics of what we would define as Dracula. Instead he is a Prince, who wears armor, is proficient with a sword, and has a Welsh accent. He has a wife (Sarah Gadon) and a child (Art Parkinson), and only turns to vampirism in order to protect his family and his land from the invasion of the Turks.

Bela Lugosi as Dracula

"Vlad the Impaler"

This partially coincides with the actual Vlad the Impaler, who’s father did give up Dracula, and his brother Radu as hostages to the Turks, in order to maintain his throne (Raymond T. McNally and Radu Florescu 21). His brother ended up joining them, while Dracula decided to fight against their rule. Dracula’s brutality towards his enemies was legendary with many stories of impaling Turks on stakes as a means of psychological warfare (On the Trail of Dracula). In this manner Dracula is still seen as a kind of hero for the Romanian people. So in this way the film loosely imitates the historical account. But the film then dramatically departs from this more realistic depiction, by showing more of the influence of the Stoker novel, and other fictional depictions which focus on Dracula drinking blood and becoming a vampire, and the super-natural powers he possessed as a result. The film thus unfolds more like a superhero film than anything else, baring a resemblence to Nolan’s Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005). Vlad has a troubled childhood as a slave of the Turks, and grows up to become the Prince of Translyvania known for the verocity of his fighting. He makes the bold sacrifice in order to protect his family and his people by drinking the blood of the “Master Vampire” thus becoming a vampire. This mirrors the similar motivation for Bruce Wayne in becoming Batman due to the traumatic loss of his parents, and vowed to strike fear into the heart of criminals who were capable of such acts. The film deals with the depth of the human soul very similar to the way Batman Begins does in that if, you want to fight something awful you have to become something almost equally as awful in order to combat the evil. This creates the ongoing struggle to maintain the “good” part of yourself without subcumbing to the temptation of the "bad."

Another way Dracula Untold mirrors a superhero film is the display of Dracula's super strength. In the novel Van Helsing claims he has the strength of twenty men, while Dracula Untold increases his strength exponentially, claiming he has the strength of one hundred men (Stoker 238). In Dracula Untold, Dracula is depicted as having the immense strength to take out an entire Turkish Army by himself.  Compared to portrayals of Dracula from the past such as Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee, feats of physical strength were usually directed towards one person. Instead these depictions focused more on the strength of their mind control in order to manipulate others to do their bidding. As with many superhero stories such as the symbolic quote used in both Superman, and Spider Man comics throughout the years; "With great power comes great responsibility"(Cronin, Comic Book Legends Revealed #479). In this case it is the same vampirism which could win the war against the Turks, could also destroy Dracula the person along with his family and the rest of Transylvania, who rely on his leadership. In showing Dracula as a sympathetic character it makes his motivation for becoming a vampire more relatable and almost heroic. Dracula Untold does what superhero films do best by putting a human face to someone with super human abilities. If you would like to see a Dracula film which is unlike any other, then I recommend you watch this film.

Works Cited:

Batman Begins. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Perf. Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Neeson.
          Warner Bros., 2005. DVD.

Cronin, Brian. "Comic Book Legends Revealed #479." Comic Book Resources. N.p., 11 July 2014. Web. 6 Nov. 2014. <http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/2014/07/11/comic-book-legends-revealed-479/>.

Dracula Untold. Dir. Gary Shore. Perf. Luke Evans, Dominic Cooper, Sarah Gadon.
            Universal, 2014. Film.

"Dracula Untold." IMDb. IMDb.com, n.d. Web. 06 Nov. 2014.

McNally, Raymond T., and Radu Florescu. In Search of Dracula: The History of Dracula and Vampires Revised.      Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1994. Print.

"On the Trail of Dracula." ABC News. ABC News Network, 26 Aug. 2005. Web. 06 Nov. 2014.

Stoker, Bram. Dracula. New York: Signet Classic, 2007. Print.

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When Time Traveling, One's Safety Is Not Guaranteed

11/4/2014

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Written by John Snyder

In Safety Not Guaranteed (Treverrow, 2012) time travel is a key part of the plot; the science fiction juxtaposed to “real life” in order to explore the practical ways in which humans try to change the past, and why we seem so determined to do so.

The main plot addresses time travel fairly straightforwardly: Kenneth (Mark Duplass) has put an ad in the classified section of a newspaper looking for a companion with whom to travel back in time. Jeff (Jake Johnson), a sleazy journalist working for a magazine, takes interns Darius (Aubrey Plaza) and Arnau (Karan Soni) to investigate the ridiculous claim. However, Kenneth lives in Ocean View, Washington, which is where an old lust-interest of Jeff’s currently resides, and Darius finds that the responsibility of interviewing Kenneth has fallen to her.

Kenneth’s behavior and personality are very unorthodox, but his passion is sincere. As Darius interviews him and trains to become his partner, she grows to like him and feels torn between her hope for his success and the apparent fact that he’s crazy and won’t actually be able to go back in time. He tells her that he is going back to rescue a girl from being killed, an old girlfriend whom Darius finds out is alive and well. When Darius tells him this, he is convinced that it is because they succeeded with their mission, which kind of makes sense, but again seems unlikely. There is so much deception and/or uncertainty in this movie that until the ending sequence, no one is really sure what is going to happen. At the end, he changes his mind, and tells Darius that he’s going back into the past for her, to save her mother. The final scene shows interview footage in which he admits that he both needs and wants a partner with whom to travel through time and space. It is ultimately romantic companionship that fuels his desire to go back in time, first to save his ex-girlfriend, then to be with Darius. The fact that they have a time machine is romantic in itself because they could theoretically be together “forever.”

Paralleling the primary plot, Jeff attempts to do a little time traveling of his own. He manages to meet up with his old friend, Liz (Jenica Bergere), and they unexpectedly reconnect. Jeff is elated and becomes totally infatuated, convinced that Liz was the only person he ever wanted. Eventually they have a picnic and sex, and after they are finished, Jeff asks Liz to move to Seattle with him. She turns him down, despite his pleading, and he leaves.
Failing to regain his lost love, he goes back to the motel at which the team had been staying and challenges Arnau to go out and have a ‘crazy night’ with him. This is Jeff’s attempt to relive his youth through/with Arnau, and it is a way of trying to travel back in time. They go to a liquor store, Jeff buys a lot of alcohol, and he gives it to a group of teenagers with whom they go to an amusement park, riding the rides while quite intoxicated. The amusement park scene finishes as Jeff drives a go-kart, blunt and bottle in hand, and we see tears streaming down his face. He has tried to regain the girl and the lifestyle of his younger days; the girl rejected him and the same old highs just aren’t as crazy as they used to be. He never believed that Kenneth could really travel back in time, so what made him think that he could regain his past? And the end of the movie, Jeff cheers on Darius as she goes back to Kenneth and as they turn on the machine. If he couldn’t find happiness, it was all he could do to support Darius as she found a place and a person to fit in with.

Safety Not Guaranteed offers some interesting thoughts about why people get so transfixed with the idea of time travel, and how they try to achieve it. It suggests that all kinds of people have regrets; both the socially estranged Kenneth and seductively suave Jeff have made critical decisions that they wish they hadn’t made. They both seek happiness, and “a partner,” and only Kenneth was successful in that pursuit. While his fate is uncertain, what is clear is that pursuing happiness in what has been lost is not a venture in which one’s safety (or satisfaction) is guaranteed.

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Inside Look: The Technical and Thematic Achievements in GRAVITY

11/3/2014

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Written by Anthony Watkins

Mexican-born director Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity is a Science-Fiction thriller that, upon its release on October 4, 2013, generated worldwide critical acclaim. Nominated for 10 Oscars, the film took home 7 at the 86th Academy Awards. The awards mainly came in technical achievements—from the breathtaking visual effects and cinematography to Steven Price’s sweeping score. One of the grandest awards, however, was Best Director for Alfonso Cuaron, who became the first Latin American director to take home an Oscar. In this article, we will explore how Cuaron was able to effectively communicate the vacuum of space as vast and beautiful, yet isolating and terrifying. We will also look at some of the themes he communicated in the film.

Perhaps the most effective way Cuaron was able to communicate the large environment of space was through the use of long shots, or long takes. The opening shot of the film lasts for about 13 minutes—an astonishing long shot that is virtually unheard of in action films today. In total, Gravity contains only 156 shots, with an average shot length of approximately 45 seconds. By implementing these long shots, Cuaron is able to draw the audience into this extreme space environment, not letting them blink, and forcing them to relate to and to experience the film as if they themselves were stranded with the astronauts. The long shots also communicate anti-gravity, as the camera itself seems to be floating along with the astronauts, instead of cutting here and there to stay with them. Finally, by using this floating method, the camera conveys the lack of a standard up and down that is present in space. There are no boundaries or dimensions like on Earth.

(Above) This poster shows the opening shot of Gravity. The camera seems to float in space as the shuttle moves closer and closer. (Below) The 13 minute shot culminates in Stone being separated from the destroyed Shuttle and floating in the vastness and emptiness of space.

While providing these long shots throughout the film, Cuaron also implements POV (Point-of-View) shots to further force the audience to relate to the astronauts’ perilous experience. Cuaron goes as far as placing the camera inside Dr. Ryan Stone’s (Sandra Bullock) space helmet. Inside the helmet, we hear her suit alarms beeping and her heavy breathing. You really can’t get more subjective than this. Cuaron allows us as the audience to see and to feel Stone’s world and take the journey with her.

A stylistically and visually resplendent shot appears about halfway through the film. Stone eventually makes it into the International Space Station (ISS). Once she closes the hatch, she takes a breather for herself, as this is the first time she's been able to relax since the debris destroyed the Explorer and she became stranded. She curls up in the fetal position, and her figure against the hatch window, combined with some strategically placed wires, allows the shot to visually represent the womb. This of course foreshadows the rebirth that will take place in her character at the end of the film. The shot is also useful in that, by symbolizing birth, it contrasts the amount of death and destruction she has seen firsthand with the other astronauts and shuttle.

A beautiful shot that symbolizes Dr. Ryan Stone's (Sandra Bullock) internal rebirth that will occur throughout her perilous experience in space.

Besides rebirth, Gravity also communicates several other themes and allegories. The most obvious theme is humanity’s will to survive, even in the toughest of situations that arise. This is something that comes naturally to us—we are born and given one chance at life. As a result, we usually feel the need to be our own determiner of death—we don’t give up or sit back unless there is really no other option. In the film, Stone is given that option, and she ultimately chooses to pursue life. This theme has been explored through many films over the years, notably in Roland Emmerich's Independence Day (1994) and Michael Bay’s Armageddon (1998).

Gravity also displays a religious theme. Perhaps the most touching scene in the film is when Stone is in the Soyuz, out of fuel. At a rock-bottom emotional level, Stone manages to contact a foreign-speaking fisherman on Earth. She asks him to pray for her, explaining she would pray herself but has never said a prayer in her life and doesn't know how. This moment reveals Stone's acknowledgement of a higher power or being that has control over the situation and our place in the universe. Cuaron strategically places other religious material throughout the film, as the pictures below illustrate.

The two pictures above illustrate Cuaron's placement of religious material in the film. The top picture is from Saint Christopher, (a Christian martyr in the 3rd century) and the bottom picture is a Buddha statuette.

The debris that destroyed the Explorer even has an allegorical place in the film. As Stone tries to reach safety and make her way back to Earth, she continually has to face the debris that circles earth and comes back around every 90 minutes. This can be allegorical to problems that we deal with in our everyday life: even though we may get through them or avoid them one time, they will keep coming around to face us again and again.

Another strong theme in Gravity is evolution. Our main character, Dr. Ryan Stone, evolves over the course of the film from a depressed, downtrodden individual who has no concern if she lives or dies to a determined warrior who will do whatever it takes to survive and return to Earth. Cuaron even goes as far as visually communicating her evolution. When she finally returns to Earth, her space capsule falls into a lake and sinks to the bottom. As Stone begins rising to the surface, we see a frog (this creature who has evolved itself) rising to the water’s surface. As Stone washes up on the shore, she is this evolving creature fresh out of the muddy water onto new soil. After saying, "thank you" to presumably a supernatural being (God), Stone slowly starts to get up; then falls back down because of the newly found gravity on earth. Unfazed due to her experience, she gives a slight laugh and rises to a knee, and then finally to both feet, as an animal rising on to a higher evolutionary level. As she towers over the camera, we come to realize fully the radical transformation and evolution that has gone through her character in the course of the film. The film closes with her walking away from the camera, to an unknown, but certainly better future.

The sequence of photos above illustrates how Cuaron visually represented Stone's evolution over the course of the film. In the final shot, she is heading towards an unknown, but certainly positive future.

In conclusion, Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity succeeds not only as a visually-striking film, but also an allegorical and thought-provoking exercise that explores our will to survive as humans, as well as our evolution and nature. It is certainly a pioneering film that will be remembered for many years to come.

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The Continuing Story: In Defense of Remakes

11/2/2014

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Top: Gene Wilder as Mr. Wonka in "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory" (Stuart, 1971.) Bottom: Johnny Depp as the same character in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (Burton, 2005) Two versions of the same story. Gene Wilder's version was met with almost universal acclaim. Johnny Depp's version however received mixed to negative reviews.

By Billy Martel

It seems that as long as there have been stories there have been sequels to those stories. A story teller tells a story, and when it ends (as all stories must) the audience says, “I liked that story. What happened next?” So the story teller thinks a minute, either remembering when the story was told to them or making something up on their own, and then tells a new story with the same, or similar characters in the same, or similar circumstances as the first. Almost as old as the sequel is the prequel. Sometimes the audience is very happy with the ending they have, so when it’s all over they instead ask, “What happened before?” Then the story teller will simply tells a story about younger versions of the same or similar characters in an identical, or a similar situation that takes place before the original story. Books, Plays, and of course Movies have long been home to these concepts. But by far the most controversial of all ways that any storyteller can continue a story is the remake.

In the remake a story teller tells a story that the audience likes but they don’t want a sequel to it, they don’t like it until they see or hear it again later, or there are a lot of sequels and prequels told and the audience is tired of them. Anyway the story is still popular, but it’s too outdated, close ended, or confused in some way to continue. So instead the story teller, or maybe another story teller who has permission from the right people, decides to tell the original story again but with slight changes to try and give it a greater appeal. After all the audience loved the story the first time so making it again with more modern sensibilities only makes sense. Maybe the first time the story was told there were elements that the story teller didn’t expect to be popular that were, and now they can highlight those elements. Maybe there was something the audience read into the story that the story teller didn’t see; now they can be intentional about it. Perhaps there were parts of the story that came off really dated and don't make sense to the modern audiences; now no one need be confused by such things. It’s going to be like the original story took steroids; it’s gonna be crazy!

Remakes a plenty. From left to right, and top line down, we have the posters for: Carrie (Peirce, 2013), Carrie (De Palma, 1976), Evil Dead (Alvarez, 2013), The Evil Dead (Raimi, 1981), Red Dawn (Bradley, 2012), Red Dawn (Milius, 1984), Sparkle (Akil, 2012), Sparkle (O'Steen, 1976), Total Recall (Wiseman, 2012), Total Recall (Verhoeven, 1990), Arthur (Winer, 2011), Arthur (Gordon, 1981), Footloose (Brewer, 2011), Footloose (Ross, 1984), Fright Night (Gillespie, 2011), Fright Night (Holland, 1985), Straw Dogs (Lurie, 2011), Straw Dogs (Peckinpah, 1971), Clash of the Titans (Leterrier, 2010), Clash of the Titans (Davis, 1981), A Nightmare on Elm Street (Bayer, 2010), A Nightmare on Elm Street (Craven, 1984), Piranha 3D (Aja, 2010), Piranha (Dante, 1978), Fame (Tancharoen, 2009), Fame (Parker, 1980), Friday the 13th (Nispel, 2009), Friday the 13th (Cunningham, 1980), My Bloody Valentine 3D (Lussier, 2009), My Bloody Valentine (Mihalka, 1981), Sorority Row (Hendler, 2009), The House on Sorority Row (Rosman, 1983), The Stepfather (McCormick, 2009), The Stepfather (Ruben, 1987), The Taking of Pelham, 123 (Scott, 2009), The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (Sargent, 1974), The Day The Earth Stood Still (Derrickson, 2008), The Day The Earth Stood Still (Wise, 1951), Death Race (W. S. Anderson, 2008), Death Race 2000 (Bartel, 1975), Prom Night (McCormick, 2008), Prom Night (Lynch, 1980), The Women (English, 2008), The Women (Cukor, 1939), Halloween (Zombie, 2007), Halloween (Carpenter, 1978), Hairspray (Shankman, 2007), and Hairspray (Waters, 1988).

So the good side of this is that sometimes the story teller is absolutely correct. Some stories don’t hold up as well as others but still have enough good there that they deserve a second look. Other stories were perfectly fine on their own, but there’s still another perfectly legitimate way to tell the same story without making the original lesser by comparison. Despite a less than favorable reputation, there have been many, many remakes that have not only been successful but well received by both critics and fans: The Fly (1986, Cronenburg), The Thing (1982, Carpenter), Ocean’s Eleven (2001, Soderbergh), and even The Maltese Falcon (1941, Huston).

However most of the public seems to have decided that movie remakes are a very bad idea. It is easy to understand why. After all the reason that the movie is being remade is because it was popular in the first place. When some people see the differences that the story teller made to a story that meant a lot to them, they can get upset because to them it seems as if the heart of the story, the part that they related to so strongly, has been removed. It is an almost irrational feeling of possessiveness that some people (including myself) can have toward their favorite movies. We have movies that we watch when we’re sad, when we’re happy, when we’re hungry. We have movies that remind us of things, people, places, even feelings. These stories become a part of who we are. Then someone decides to tell that story again, but differently than we remember. We get angry. “They ruined it!” we often exclaim. Now of course the original story that we love will always be there, and the story teller doesn’t want to take that away. They just want to tell a popular story again for a new audience. But for some reason fans continue to see remakes as personal attacks, or insults.

Above Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau. He starred as the bumbling detective in a franchise of "Pink Panther" films that lasted from 1963 to 1982. Below: Steve Martin as the same detective in the 2006 reboot.

The fact is that unless they’re trying to make an artistic statement, a hidden parody, or a satire, no story teller ever wants to tell a bad story. When a studio makes a movie, they want you to like it. That’s how they make their money, by making sure you enjoy yourself at the movies. And often times that means that they take stories that they already know the audience likes and retell them, while changing a few elements to keep things fresh, and hopefully make the story more in line with modern sensibilities. In fact looking at the way the same story is retold throughout generations in history is one way historians examine the way a culture saw itself. So by looking at remakes of previously told stories, we can see how our culture has changed since the day when the original story was told. A remake, even if it is badly written, or sloppily directed, or even if it is a remake of a movie you liked, should be seen as an opportunity to understand our own culture, and how we relate to the people of the past. Though it may be frustrating to see a story that you love be turned into something else, sometimes taking old stories, tweaking, molding, and changing them in subtle ways is how the mythology of tomorrow is born.

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Exploring the Dreamscapes of Tekkonkinkreet

11/1/2014

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Written by Steven Collier

Tekkonkinkreet (Arias, 2006) is one of those movies that never quite got the attention it deserved. Right from the beginning, Tekkonkinkreet suffered enormously by being released less than a month after the critically acclaimed animated movie Paprika (Kon, 2006). Born under the shadow of such a juggernaut, it remained overlooked despite its overwhelmingly positive reception. Tekkonkinkreet could do little but languish throughout the 2006 award season, an utter travesty.

By all rights, Tekkonkinkreet was just as revolutionary a movie as Paprika. Both were adaptations of previously printed stories. Both were mature animated films which more than earned their R ratings. And perhaps most importantly, both dealt with plots wherein the characters would shift between conventional reality and dreamscapes. Paprika, which is supposed to be set in a world mostly identical to our own, accomplished this through the tried and true method of introducing surreal imagery whenever there was any such transition. This juxtaposition between the familiar and the surreal served as an easily recognized visual cue for what was part of its characters’ dreams. However, Tekkonkinkreet utilized a markedly more novel method to achieve the same results.

Unlike Paprika, there is no “normal world” within Tekkonkinkreet’s universe. The entire film is set inside an insane caricature of Japanese urban centers called Takaramachi, or "Treasure Town." The ridiculously colorful metropolis is a hodge-podge of rusting water towers, neon bill-boards, crumbling brick and mortar stores, and gleaming skyskrapers, all smashed together on every city block. It evokes a child’s fanciful perception of the dualistic and constantly overwhelming nature of city life. Its plot is equally absurd: a frenetic fable involving aliens, super-human assassins, and a Yakuza scheme to demolish their own territory so they can rebuild it as an amusement park. Tekkonkinkreet ‘s narrative mimics its visual styling by presenting a child’s perception of concepts that are too big for their understanding. This is perfect for a film which features a pair of orphaned street kids as its protagonists and narrators. However, it presents a serious hurdle for any director who wants to seriously convey dreamscapes in a world that has already gone mad.

There is precious little for an audience to find familiar within the universe of Tekkonkinkreet. Simply introducing surreal dream imagery would be nearly indistinguishable from the movie’s already established weird aesthetic. Fortunately, the animation team at STUDIO4°C was more than up to the challenge, and their solution was nothing short of brilliant. Instead of trying to further mutate the world of their movie, they opted to try and animate actual dreams, in all of their abstracted glory.

You see, while Tekkonkinkreet exists within a cartoonish reflection of urban Japan, it’s still a world with consistent physical laws. Gravity still exists. Spaces maintain fixed dimensions. Colors remain static. In short, while the environs and denizens of Treasure Town may appear alien to the viewer, they are all governed by a universal rules.

That all melts away, whenever we enter a character’s dreamscape. The world dissolves into an impressionist abstraction of itself. Backgrounds diffuse into hypnagogic panoramas, while Euclidean geometry ceases to have any bearing whatsoever. Color, shape, dimension, and movement all blur into a single, ponderous, polymorhphous panoply, and it is absolutely mindbending. Watching it all unfold can be genuinely disorienting.

Tekkonkinkreet’s dream sequences present scenes that are only possible in a medium as flexible as animation. No other form of cinema can alter its dimensional properties on a frame by frame basis. Tekkonkinkreet takes full advantage of that, and shows you gibbering, pandemonium vistas, as well as spellbinding flip-book worlds of unbridled imagination in a tour de force of images we usually only behold while under the merciful sedative of unconsciousness. They are visions of impossible realities, universes come unglued. When the audience is eventually yanked back into the usual two-dimensional world of its characters, the sudden return to any semblance of uniform movement actually triggers a sort of mental whiplash. The human mind simply isn’t used processing worlds where nothing is static.

Tekkonkinkreet set out to accomplish the impossible: recreate the actual subconscious experience of dreaming, and somehow transfer it, big as life, onto a 40 foot screen, in breath-taking cinemascope, and stereophonic sound. And in my opinion, it more than succeeded. Whereas most cinema, animated or otherwise, is content to flash a few surreal images and call it “dream-like,” only Tekkonkinkreet fully submerges its audience in a world utterly divorced from our own. And as alien as that experience may be, I feel that it is what ultimately gives this movie a universal appeal. We’ve all experienced Tekkonkinkreet in one form or another. However, up until now we’ve never been awake enough to fully enjoy it.

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