Atonement: That Tracking Shot Does More For the Theme Then Just Show Us the Intensity of Dunkirk7/21/2017 As Dunkirk is prepared to be released, film critics have started calling attention to the spectacular five minute Dunkirk tracking shot from Joe Wright’s Atonement. There’s been praise of the suspense and the harrowing images of the scene, but the Dunkirk sequence means much more in the scheme of the film beyond the initial setting and the events of the scene (1). Atonement, based off of the book by Ian McEwan, is often about interpretation. The pivotal moment of the film that changes everything for its characters is specifically focussed on the interpretation of one character, Briony, a 13 year old girl, that on top of being jealous, ignorantly accuses the housekeeper’s son, Robbie of raping and hurting both her sister Cecilia (whom Robbie loves) and her cousin. He did not, of course, the cousin was hurt by a family friend and Cecilia and Robbie are in love, but because of the interpretation of the events by young Briony, the whole affair goes up in flames and Robbie is sent to a prison and then a war. This sets the stage for the tracking shot to come, but before we actually discuss the tracking shot itself and how it fits into the thematic core of the film, we need to discuss how said tracking shot came to be because it almost wasn’t part of the movie. Director Joe Wright told David Gritten of The Telegraph, that the sequence was originally going to “...[include] air attacks from Stukas…” (2) , but that he needed four million dollars that his producer wasn’t going to give him. So after that, they decided to make it a scene of just the beach, with 40 individual montage shots, but eventually, due to time, the filmmakers changed their minds and decided to turn it into one take, a decision which would transform the meaning of the scene (2). To repeat, Atonement is often about interpretation and interpretation is often built into the thematic center of the film and the performances. Examples of this come in two fold, with Briony interpreting the love of her sister and Robbie as possibly harmful, but also tinged with jealousy, and there are also aspects of interpretation in the performances. Many of the conversations in the film are had with hidden intentions, whether it’s Benedict Cumberbatch talking to Juno Temple about her parents and his factory in the attempt to seduce her or Robbie and Cecilia’s own banter regarding their love. These subsequent layers of subtext, even working their way into the typewriter clicks of the score, always have us on the defensive looking for things to interpret and extrapolate on. This brings us to the Dunkirk sequence, which without a heavy bout of intensity brings us to that beach, just by showing us all of the pieces. As Robbie passes by men partying, thinking, shooting horses, and cooling car engines, and even a beached ship, we the audience are forced to put together the horrors that these men faced in our own heads. Wright, in lacking the ability to show direct action, shows us things that only suggest the wider action of the war. We can only imagine the events that transpired with what we’re given, matching Briony’s ability to only form the shape of her interpretation by looking at a few small pictures in the whole. The long one shot format seems to only emphasize the view of someone looking in with the tracking shot, this shot being one that tends to call attention to itself, breaking the sense that the camera is a diegetic player in the scene, meaning that the audience isn’t actually experiencing the scene, they’re watching it, detached from the events, only left to interpret the horror and the loss hanging over the moment from what little sections we are shown. (1) To those who know how the film ends this becomes especially important because, *spoilers* what we’re seeing isn’t necessarily an accurate account of the Dunkirk evacuation, as honest as the film may be in that regard, because the second half of the film exists vaulting between reality and the written material that an elderly Briony writes in her last book, which is attempting to, within an art form, give Robbie and Cecilia (who both died in the war), the happiness that Briony denied them by telling a lie based on her interpretation. This would suggest that we are in fact watching what is simply an interpretation by another party emphasizing the reality that the scene can only be shaped by our interpretation of a few visual and audio elements, a few details, hoping to give us the whole, layering our own experience of the film into the theme of interpretation. Atonement is about interpretation by both the characters and the audience and the Dunkirk sequence is an excellent example its integration into the film. Bibliography
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Shakespeare is the type of writer where the substance of the plays is so rich, incredible, and timely that one can’t help but automatically differentiate the works by the style employed to bring them to life. Shakespeare’s plays have in essence become all about style, and the versions that don’t employ some sense of interesting style seem to lack purpose. Take, for instance, the 2013 version of the Bard’s Romantic Tragedy, Romeo and Juliet. If the merits of a Shakespeare adaptation lies in the style of the film, then this film is a failure, a straight telling of the tale that finds itself extremely boring and lacking any sense of interpretation or comment on the work. This is, of course, unlike the 1996 Baz Luhrmann version, which stands as a towering achievement in Shakespeare adaptation, that should be held up with the best of Olivier, Branagh, and Polanski. Why? Because it understands what Romeo and Juliet is the same way that Shakespeare understood Romeo and Juliet, in that it has the balls to make fun of the material, while also stepping completely into the glorification and exaggeration of said material. It has become a common school of thought to think that Romeo and Juliet is in some ways so absurd that it suggests comedy (we are of course talking tone and not genre technically). On one hand, the lust of the two protagonists is beautiful and pure and nice, but on the other hand, that beautiful purity raises the material to a level of absurdity that can’t be supported by anything else than material that holds such a stylistic flourish that it both glorifies and trivializes the material, something that is found consistently throughout Luhrmann’s adaptation. The film, whether by author intent or not, seems to understand the play the same way that Shakespeare did. Shakespeare seems to understand the play as an absurdity, even creating an obvious parody, he placed in his play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Pyramus and Thisbe. In actively trivializing his own work, Shakespeare accepts that it is, in some stripes, trivial, something that this very self away version of Romeo and Juliet does too. I recently wrote about the film, Bãhubali: The Beginning, another film that perfectly accentuates the strengths that Luhrmann displays here. That film is a ridiculous piece of art, a cheesy, but honest work that plays fully into its emotionality in a way that allows you to both laugh at the care put into such a corny thing, but also accept the badassery (yep that’s a word) of the emotionality on display. To be honest, Romeo + Juliet feels a bit like a Bollywood version of Romeo and Juliet, remixing the play into a music video, corny, yet so emotional that you can’t help but be sucked in. The best moments are those that you can laugh at wholeheartedly and yet indulge in dramatically. An example of this is found in the meeting of Romeo and Juliet. Luhrmann stages the thing like the nightmare of a soap opera hater. He puts up the soft light, he blasts the cheesy late 90’s love ballad and he goes to town showing us the immediate attraction of the titular leads. It’s the type of moment that on one hand is laughable. The music, the close ups, the ungodly naive looking players, they all suggest parody...but it’s not. Instead, that cringeworthy, blistering emotionality seems to create a self-fulfilling circle on itself, with each directorial choice both trivializing and strengthening the connection at the center of the scene. This rampant emotionality combined with the trivialization creates an odd balance. It makes us completely aware of the stupidity that can be found in the center of the connection, but also of the beauty. We as an audience know how this all ends, and trivializing the love only accentuates the tragedy of it, making the audience realize that once and for all, the death means absolutely nothing. If we ourselves can only interpret the love itself as something that is not to be taken seriously, then we cannot take the death seriously, increasing the pathos and sadness grounded in the death of these poor lovers. The most interesting thing about the film is the way that this whole idea would not exist without Luhrmann’s efforts, with his style dictating the interpretation. Romeo and Juliet, played the way it is in the 2013 version (which is to say straight) lacks the extra layer pathos. Now, productions of this play lacking this pathos, aren't technically lesser, they just lack an extra layer. Shakespeare played straight and done well can be a beautiful thing. My favorite of the films adapted from his work is Branagh's, Hamlet. But Luhrmann is a bit more interesting. Part of Luhrmann's style is the way that he cuts film, speeding it up, and slowing it down in the effort to both heighten the style of the piece but also create an exasperating, deflating, break in the verisimilitude of the piece. By doing this, Luhrmann is even calling attention to the fact that each time the film is getting close to feeling legitimate, he can’t help but ridicule the material, forcing the loop of catharsis around and pressuring his audience to understand the sadness in all of this. Looking at many modern interpretations it’s impossible to ignore the reality that Romeo and Juliet’s love is ridiculous and Baz Luhrmann, using his ridiculous style provides the audience with a manifestation of the ridicule we should place on the love at the center of the film and therefore make the story even more pointless, even sadder. Michael Cimino’s HEAVEN'S GATE is a film that seems to know that history has already forgotten the events at its center, or at the very least, the true account of those events. The film itself, though intimate and scathing, seems detached from the events that formed it, both by historical inaccuracy and the progression of the story. This, in any other movie, would stand as an overwhelming fault, a bug inside of a film that would eventually lead to its failure, both as art and effective storytelling, but the most interesting thing about HEAVEN'S GATE is that this fact seems built into the way that the film’s narrative progresses and the actions of the characters, who themselves, seem desperate to not be forgotten in the expanse of history and yet are confronted with the reality that keeping those rosy colored glasses will make them painful for the nostalgia of the past. This is most evident in the actions of the characters in the twenty minute prologue at Harvard.
In basing the first twenty minutes of his film that is extensively about the West in the East, Cimino has accentuated this longing to not be forgotten. In his book about the structure of the Western, SIXGUNS AND SOCIETY, Will Wright writes, “Hence, in spite of its actual and more prolonged adventure, the East could never match the social turmoil of the West as a context for fiction, and more precisely, as a ground for myth,” (Wright 6). As a culture we understand the idea of the West much more than we do the East, and the characters of HEAVEN'S GATE or at least William C. Irvine (John Hurt) seem to understand this fact. He seems to understand that he will be forgotten as well as the time that he spent with the protagonist of the film, James Averill (Kris Kristofferson) at Harvard. His actions throughout the scene engage the audience as we figure out what he is attempting to do, using irony to balm the pain that comes from being forgotten, but also that of nostalgia. The film, following its haunting credits, fades onto the screen with a smokey look where the bright white sky in the background almost consumes the picture itself. The church that steeples high into the sky is faded, almost gone and as the camera pans down to reveal the streets of Harvard, we see James Averill sprinting down the road, in order to make it to his oration. The film fading into the background is important because it gives us an idea of the way that they events work. This prologue to the characters, even in the moment is a thing of the past, that is painful in it’s lack of meaning and satisfaction. Averill sprinting after the procession is a moment of honesty, as we see this “man of Harvard,” having slept in or something of the sort, is now sprinting after the procession he’s supposed to have been at. That honesty goes a long way because it creates a disappointment, something that the audience has to live with a lot in HEAVEN'S GATE. As much as Averill and the audience want this moment to really be good, it doesn’t mean anything that Averill must sprint after the procession because soon, it won’t matter. It’s a thing of the past, yet Averill will hold onto those days until about the point that Irvine does, thick in the fog of battle in the Johnson County War. Averill thinks it matters now and will later, until the battle washes his understanding of humanities ways away. Conversely, Irvine seems to be troubled with this at the start of the film and does almost everything in his power to leave a mark, something that is easily juxtaposed with the conflicted nature of Irvine’s actions later in the film. He seems to be a nihilist in denial in some ways, accepting in many a way that the world lacks substance, but always, ironically trying to fight back against that meaninglessness. This is found paramountly in his speech given at the oration, following the highly elitist speech given by the Dean of Students. Irvine, in this scene, tries to ironically joke his way through the speech, reducing the oration to a trivial matter, so he and his classmates will not have to struggle with the indulgent memory of said oration.. His speech starts off explaining the uselessness of the intellectual ideals that the college environment offered the men, explaining a story in which a young man asks his friend why he is so upset? The friend responds that he was looking for something to write about, trivializing the ideals of the college, which most likely encouraged the writing and considering of ideas. He’s saying that the achievement of the men that day, doesn’t mean anything, doing so ironically in order to find some understanding of the meaning behind all of it. He, with the story, seems to be attempting to find peace with the fact that all of this doesn’t mean anything, but we still must strive on “...we must endeavor to speak with as much ability as we can, but we must speak according to our ability,” (1). He then recites a speech that seems almost for a child, rhyming and explicitly attempting to break the importance of the oration. All of this is, of course, delivered with sarcasm attempting to make all of this funny, and it is as Irvine endeavors to make fun of the Dean, but this tone seems much more like a cry for understanding than an actual joking tone. A smirk on top of the desperate clawing to be remembered or even worse the horrors of actually remembering. The film luxuriates in the past, in an indulgence that will be forgotten. Irvine in trivializing the moment simply softens the blow but strengthens the pain. The next scene has the Harvard graduates all dancing in a beautiful circle, all enjoying life the way that they hope to remember forever as the reality of their world. Of course, this isn’t the case. By indulging in the enjoyment too much they’ve indulged in the fallacy that the college is too much, and the memories of all of it will haunt them forever. They in their ignorance, want the moment to be of great importance, they want to indulge in the fact that they are having the best time of their lives, they want it to be important, but unfortunately, they do not know that it will all be forgotten, overshadowed by the mythology of the West. The struggle of whether or not to put importance in the past is at the center of the internal and external narratives of HEAVEN'S GATE. The events at the center are so violent and horrifying that we can’t ignore them and yet we may want to, as they might hurt us. The opening twenty minutes show us both characters reacting to the inherent meaninglessness of the moment, but also indulging in the moment in a way that will lead to harm. As the prologue come to an end, Irvine, drowned out by the joyful songs of his compatriots yells, “IT’S OVER!” with the type of unbridled sadness that it can’t be ignored. He knows that this moment will hold pain and the only way to keep it surviving is to live with that. Special thanks to the writing of Scout Tafoya and Giulia D’Agnolo Vallan, who inspired me to write about HEAVEN'S GATE and especially the prologue, which has so much to write about in it. Bibliography
Many comedies fly by with no external layering to their stories. They are simply improv machines where characters truly say some funny things, but the whole situation doesn’t actually feel very interesting or affecting of the comedy itself, other than to deliver the characters to a place where they can say funny things. Take, for example, the excellent comedy, Bridesmaids, which is a really great film, but its frame of taking place at a wedding doesn’t do much for the film other than letting funny stuff happen at a bridesmaids party, a wedding dress fitting and of course at a wedding. But sometimes in a blue moon, you get a comedy that by simply existing is contextualized by history. As of recent, the film that partakes in this is the Coen Brothers Hail, Caesar, a film that just by existing is a commentary on the conditions of old Hollywood which enriches an otherwise simple Coen comedy. Hollywood in the time period that Hail, Caesar is attempting to parody was a machine churning out films of increasing size and gravitas. Hail, Caesar obviously takes place at said time because it specifically parodies, Ben Hur, with the subtitle of the film “A Tale of the Christ,” becoming the punchline to an incredibly funny joke, accenting the ridiculous nature of plugging Christ into filmmaking, just to appeal to a wide audience (and if we’re speaking frankly, in order to put more boobs and gore into the movies). This context though takes the whole creation of the film into a whole different level, as the joke of the movie soon becomes itself the extent that the Brothers delve into recreating the trappings of old 50’s Hollywood. In their own attempt to recreate the time period, the Coen’s, have highlighted the absurdity of the lengths that old Hollywood went to, to create pictures of such an epic scale. Said absurdity does the film itself a wonderful favor, bolstering the ever present comedic tone of the piece, and keeping it from feeling a bit shallow. Hail, Caesar is built on this absurdity, with most of the scenes consisting of elaborate, drawn of sequences, highlighting the now ridiculous trappings of old Hollywood. Early in the film, this is represented by the parody of Ben Hur, titled Hail Caesar. Ben Hur, was a thousand of extras movie, and that, in this day and age, is just ridiculous, but also noble in its scale. The Coen’s themselves employed a lot of extras, who highlight this absurdity by just being there. There’s an outer narrative to the film that is just as funny as the inner narrative of Hollywood idiots, and this narrative tells the story of the almost absurd and hilarious lengths that the filmmakers must go to make a movie the same way that they did in the 50’s. This is again found in the film’s next sequence recreating the films of old Hollywood. This one is a parody of a mermaid film that is spectacularly impressive but also absolutely ridiculous to the point that it leads to the audience questioning the Coen Brothers devotion to recreating it. Touches like a mechanical whale and the synchronized swimming, lend themselves to making the moment seem all the more absurd, all leading one to see both the glorification and ridicule of the methods of old Hollywood. Glorification is as much present as ridicule, with each sequence being choreographed to the point of being stupidly impressive. The synchronized swimming sequence is one of the most fascinating and beautiful sequences ever put to film. By modern standards, it may be absurd, but it is amazing and there’s a lot of work put into it. The fact that a sequence of such beauty can have so much fun with itself, enlivens the prose of Hail, Caesar and gives the hilarity context. Said story being placed against the idiocy of the main cast of actors, chiefly George Clooney’s Baird Whitlock and Channing Tatum’s Burt Gunnery and the incompetence of the Communists at the center, shown with their self-aggrandizing importance, creates a sense of the exciting if a bit stupid energy of old Hollywood. Upon watching Hail, Caesar for the first time, I found myself disappointed by the film’s lack of depth in its prose. It just seemed the actions of a bunch of idiots that didn’t actually have very much to say or be excited about, but when analyzing the contexts of what Hail, Caesar both loves and makes fun of, the comedy takes on a new light, of such incredible quality that it makes one sit up and realize just how amazing and hilarious this bygone era of Hollywood was. Bibliography 1. Hail, Caesar. Dir. Joel and Ethan Coen. Perf. Josh Brolin. 2016. DVD. |
AuthorStephen Tronicek. Archives
July 2017
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