This weekend's second feature was a Canadian horror film called Deathdream, a film set during the Vietnam war era and clearly drawing from the traumas of that war. The film begins with the death of two soldiers and the voice over of a woman saying a prayer. The woman, we discover, is the mother of the soldier killed in that opening sequence. She and her husband and daughter receive the terrible news of his death but are surprised when he returns later that evening, seemingly unscathed; however, the family quickly realizes that something isn't right with the son, named Andy. He spends his days sitting in a rocking chair, staring aimlessly at the wall and saying very little. Each family member copes with Andy's austerity in a different way: the father becomes angry and agitated with him, the mother denies that anything is wrong and coddles him, and the sister invites him out for social activities with the girl he left behind. But what begins as strange behavior turns violent when Andy kills the family dog and a doctor that suspects him of murder. The viewer soon learns that Andy is in fact undead, killing individuals for blood to sustain his decaying body.
What struck me as I watched this film was the fascinating way that it revealed generational tensions over masculinity and war. The father, played effectively by John Marley, chastises his son for being a "mama's boy" and not snapping out of his psychological trauma more quickly. While we learn that Andy's behavior is in fact a product of being undead, the more general image of a withdrawn young vet still seems to be reflected in Andy's stoicism. In other words, Andy's status as a zombie might serve as a metaphor for many veterans of this war, who struggle to reintegrate themselves into society. A recent CBS report reveals that an average of 120 US veterans commit suicide each week in this country, suggesting that such depression is epidemic among those who serve in wars. What better image to describe this epidemic than the undead zombie?
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Miss World
Last night, the Dude and I watched Sweet Movie, a 1974 Soviet film by DuĊĦan Makavejev released by Criterion on DVD. The film brilliantly satirizes western capitalism and the cult of virginity, revealing the two to be one in the same. The film begins with a Miss World pageant in which various female contestants are inspected by a gynocologist to see which is the "purist." The winner marries Mr. Kapital, an industrialist fixated on cleanliness, who shocks his new bride with his golden phallus.
This early series of events sets the tone for the rest of film, which I would describe as sexual absurdism with a politically subversive twist. I'm gonna be honest and say that I haven't quite added it all up, but that ultimately, I never grew bored either. The lush, metaphorical visuals (a woman bathing in chocolate, a man submerged in sugar and stabbed through the heart) keep me wondering about the film's intended message; certainly, the capitalistic version of love and gender roles are lampooned, but later scenes depicting communal sex rituals also seem to be parodying free love. Toss in footage of the Katyn Massacre and the film's meaning becomes difficult to unravel. Yet, I admire the complexity and obscurity, as I could easily watch this film again and find something entirely new.What fascinated me most was the commentary on western marriage. I myself married just this past July, and while I am happy with my decision, I know that marriage in the society I currently live in has certain meanings beyond my power to control--the words "husband" and "wife," for instance, are loaded with gendered connotations, making me wonder if I should use those terms at all. I don't think of myself as a "wife" in the traditional sense: I'm not entirely responsible for the domestic, while my spouse goes off to attain the capital. In other words, I'm not Miss World, and he's not Mr. Kapital; yet, these notions are difficult to shake, even in contemporary American society, especially considering the same-sex couples cannot marry in our society. As a result, I have privileges as a straight, married person that gays and lesbians simply do not have access to: legal rights, financial benefits, social legitimacy.
The question, then: can marriage be changed from within? Can I, as I married person, breakdown these gendered meanings of "husband" and "wife," or did I renounce this option when I signed on the dotted line? Have a sold off my right to challenge these privileges by taking part in them?
This early series of events sets the tone for the rest of film, which I would describe as sexual absurdism with a politically subversive twist. I'm gonna be honest and say that I haven't quite added it all up, but that ultimately, I never grew bored either. The lush, metaphorical visuals (a woman bathing in chocolate, a man submerged in sugar and stabbed through the heart) keep me wondering about the film's intended message; certainly, the capitalistic version of love and gender roles are lampooned, but later scenes depicting communal sex rituals also seem to be parodying free love. Toss in footage of the Katyn Massacre and the film's meaning becomes difficult to unravel. Yet, I admire the complexity and obscurity, as I could easily watch this film again and find something entirely new.What fascinated me most was the commentary on western marriage. I myself married just this past July, and while I am happy with my decision, I know that marriage in the society I currently live in has certain meanings beyond my power to control--the words "husband" and "wife," for instance, are loaded with gendered connotations, making me wonder if I should use those terms at all. I don't think of myself as a "wife" in the traditional sense: I'm not entirely responsible for the domestic, while my spouse goes off to attain the capital. In other words, I'm not Miss World, and he's not Mr. Kapital; yet, these notions are difficult to shake, even in contemporary American society, especially considering the same-sex couples cannot marry in our society. As a result, I have privileges as a straight, married person that gays and lesbians simply do not have access to: legal rights, financial benefits, social legitimacy.
The question, then: can marriage be changed from within? Can I, as I married person, breakdown these gendered meanings of "husband" and "wife," or did I renounce this option when I signed on the dotted line? Have a sold off my right to challenge these privileges by taking part in them?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Crumby Horror Remake Rant
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of watching the original When a Stranger Calls from 1979 and it's illegitimate bastard 2006 remake. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised by the original film, which featured Carol Kane as the unfortunate babysitter of urban legend origin and Charles Durning as the cop out for the recently escaped killer's head. Though a tad on the long side, the film built the suspense slowly but effectively. By comparison, the 2006 update felt clunky, shallow, and dull. The transparent contrivances used to build tension underwhelmed, and ultimately, the film felt like more of an exercise in style than suspense.
Unfortunately, this seems to be par for the course with horror remakes--I had the exact same response to Rob Zombie's Halloween, and I'm sure if I watched any of the Texas Chainsaw remakes, they would be more of the same.
Sadly, in the case of When a Stranger Calls, the remake attempts (but fails, in my opinion) to appeal to ladies growing up in an era of girl power by focusing more closely on the female protagonist than its predecessor. Whereas the first film made the story of Jill's attack and later encounter with the killer a mere framing device, the new film expands the first twenty minutes of the original into a full-length film. This converts the film into more of a "slasher" (a la Halloween, etc.) minus the gore (the PG-13 rating suggests an attempt to appeal to the, dare I say it, "tween" market). As a result, our babysitter, Jill (played by the beautiful Camilla Belle), becomes a final girl a la Laurie Stroud, fighting against the killer, rather than running into the arms of a male authority figure (as her seventies counterpart does).
The fact that the new film seems tailor-made (in some respects) for my tastes and politics makes the film's failures all the more depressing. In contrast, the seventies version presents women as vulnerable in every sphere (be it public or private) and at any life stage (child, teen, or woman), offering women little hope of escaping the crazed male. This characterization of female victimization should repel me, but in fact contributes to the eeriness of the older film.
So, what do you do when a film clearly lends itself to your political views but artistically belly flops trying to execute them? And what about films that creepily convey the oppressive, anti-feminist nightmare so well, they some become entertaining?
Unfortunately, this seems to be par for the course with horror remakes--I had the exact same response to Rob Zombie's Halloween, and I'm sure if I watched any of the Texas Chainsaw remakes, they would be more of the same.
Sadly, in the case of When a Stranger Calls, the remake attempts (but fails, in my opinion) to appeal to ladies growing up in an era of girl power by focusing more closely on the female protagonist than its predecessor. Whereas the first film made the story of Jill's attack and later encounter with the killer a mere framing device, the new film expands the first twenty minutes of the original into a full-length film. This converts the film into more of a "slasher" (a la Halloween, etc.) minus the gore (the PG-13 rating suggests an attempt to appeal to the, dare I say it, "tween" market). As a result, our babysitter, Jill (played by the beautiful Camilla Belle), becomes a final girl a la Laurie Stroud, fighting against the killer, rather than running into the arms of a male authority figure (as her seventies counterpart does).
The fact that the new film seems tailor-made (in some respects) for my tastes and politics makes the film's failures all the more depressing. In contrast, the seventies version presents women as vulnerable in every sphere (be it public or private) and at any life stage (child, teen, or woman), offering women little hope of escaping the crazed male. This characterization of female victimization should repel me, but in fact contributes to the eeriness of the older film.
So, what do you do when a film clearly lends itself to your political views but artistically belly flops trying to execute them? And what about films that creepily convey the oppressive, anti-feminist nightmare so well, they some become entertaining?
Friday, June 29, 2007
Title Sequence
I hate being a copy cat, but I started reading my brother's blog and couldn't help but start my own. I've been meaning to try this for some time and just haven't quite gotten around to it. So thanks, brother, for the inspiration!
To begin, let me say that I love movies... I love them so much that I thought it would be interesting to study them. I'm currently working toward a master's so I can write about film professionally. Most likely, I plan to get a doctorate in cultural studies or film so that I can teach and research and actually get paid for it. From time to time, I flirt with the idea of becoming a journalist so I can review films for the layperson--after all, I am very opinionated and have no problem butchering the worst of films or singing the praises of the best of them.
Not surprisingly, my peers in my graduate program have the same passion for films that I do. More shocking was the fact that I had a lot of catching up to do--there are hundreds of classic films I've never seen before, leaving me feeling a bit behind my buddies. Luckily, they understand my plight and lend me their DVDs, suggestions, and ears.
Still, I feel that the written word is my best tool for documenting these reactions. Thus, I want to use this blog to track my own filmic journey. While I might blurt out academic jargon from time to time, I plan on using the blog more informally to discuss what I enjoy about films, how movies function for me emotionally and politically, and how others puzzle or infuriate me. Thus, the title of this blog, "Shot/Reverse Shot," refers to the reflective nature of these posts.
To give readers a brief idea of my tastes, here are in broad strokes are of my film interests: queer cinema (Gregg Araki, Todd Haynes, Gus Van Sant, Kimberly Peirce), horror films (slasher films, revenge, sci-fi hybrids, female-dominated horror), independent auteurs (see queer list, plus Paul Thomas-Anderson, Quentin Tarantino, Sofia Coppola, etc.), French language cinema (Catherine Breillat, Claude Chabrol, Michael Haneke, Georges Franju), classics, coming-of-age stories, documentaries, action films (James Cameron style).
Of course, I may use this space to discuss other related media--music, visual art, television, performance--and general grievances with the world as it is. Should you stumble upon this blog and have a reaction to express, feel free to post away. Hopefully, my opinions will prompt some fruitful discussions, rather than functioning as a series of monologues.
To begin, let me say that I love movies... I love them so much that I thought it would be interesting to study them. I'm currently working toward a master's so I can write about film professionally. Most likely, I plan to get a doctorate in cultural studies or film so that I can teach and research and actually get paid for it. From time to time, I flirt with the idea of becoming a journalist so I can review films for the layperson--after all, I am very opinionated and have no problem butchering the worst of films or singing the praises of the best of them.
Not surprisingly, my peers in my graduate program have the same passion for films that I do. More shocking was the fact that I had a lot of catching up to do--there are hundreds of classic films I've never seen before, leaving me feeling a bit behind my buddies. Luckily, they understand my plight and lend me their DVDs, suggestions, and ears.
Still, I feel that the written word is my best tool for documenting these reactions. Thus, I want to use this blog to track my own filmic journey. While I might blurt out academic jargon from time to time, I plan on using the blog more informally to discuss what I enjoy about films, how movies function for me emotionally and politically, and how others puzzle or infuriate me. Thus, the title of this blog, "Shot/Reverse Shot," refers to the reflective nature of these posts.
To give readers a brief idea of my tastes, here are in broad strokes are of my film interests: queer cinema (Gregg Araki, Todd Haynes, Gus Van Sant, Kimberly Peirce), horror films (slasher films, revenge, sci-fi hybrids, female-dominated horror), independent auteurs (see queer list, plus Paul Thomas-Anderson, Quentin Tarantino, Sofia Coppola, etc.), French language cinema (Catherine Breillat, Claude Chabrol, Michael Haneke, Georges Franju), classics, coming-of-age stories, documentaries, action films (James Cameron style).
Of course, I may use this space to discuss other related media--music, visual art, television, performance--and general grievances with the world as it is. Should you stumble upon this blog and have a reaction to express, feel free to post away. Hopefully, my opinions will prompt some fruitful discussions, rather than functioning as a series of monologues.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)