Tag: film

Why Do We Care When Characters Die?

December 12, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Why’d you have to take Ned Stark, man?

Did you cry when Bambi’s mom got shot?

It’s okay. You can admit it. Though we know they’re not real, the death of fictional characters evokes real emotion in us. I find that amazing. After all, when fictional character die, we’re essentially mourning the loss of someone who does not, has not, and never will, exist.

The question is: why? Why do we care when a nonexistent character bites the dust?

I don’t claim to know the answer. But I do have some theories.

Here’s the first: we humans can’t help but empathize. When characters feel realistic, when we become invested in them, they become mirrors. We see our own traits reflected back at us, both the good and the bad. We draw parallels between our lives and theirs. So, when one of them dies, we see parts of us dying, too. And nobody likes that.

Here’s another: the more time we spend with characters, the more we become attached to them. Especially in book series, TV series, and film franchises, we watch these characters grow, watch them succeed and fail, watch them change with us. I think this is especially true for something like the Harry Potter series, in which the readers/viewers grow up right alongside the characters. When you’re going through the same experiences with another person at the same time, you’re likely to form a connection with them (even if they’re made up).

My third and most out-there theory: death in fiction reminds us of our own mortality. A popular theory of filmmaking states that we love movies because they solve problems in a matter of hours that are otherwise unsolvable in real life. In The Lord of the Rings, for example, Frodo extinguishes every last shred of evil in the world just by tossing some jewelry into an active volcano. Of course, we know that destroying (or even defining) evil is not that simple. But it’s still satisfying to see it done in fiction.

When characters die, however, it’s a subconscious reminder of the real world. We react so strongly to death in fiction because it reminds us that problems like death can’t be solved, not even in fictional realities.

It’s weird, but as much as they can sometimes upset us, character deaths often shape good fiction. Without people dying left and right, would A Song of Ice and Fire be the compelling series that it is? Definitely not. No matter what the reason, killing beloved characters is an essential part of fiction.

But still. Bambi’s mom was over the line, Disney.

Why There Should Be More Movies That Don’t Make Sense

November 2, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

After I finished watching Alejandro G. Innaritu’s Birdman for the first time, my initial reaction was this: “I would need to watch that ten more times to really get it.”

I mean, let’s run through this for a second. The film is about Riggan Thomson, a guy who may or may not be schizophrenic and who (spoiler alert) seems to literally fly away from his problems at the end of the film. If you’ve seen the film, you’ll remember the scene where Riggan runs through Time Square in his tighty whities. And then there’s the fistfight with Ed Norton, fresh out of a tanning booth.

I mean, really…what the hell does any of this mean?

I don’t know. But that’s what I like about it.

I’ve seen enough transparent movies, and I bet you have, too–that is to say, movies that viewers can fully grasp in one sitting. To be fair, I love movies like that. I saw Jurassic World this summer and loved it. It’s not especially deep and you won’t gain much from watching it a second time (except maybe enjoying the dinosaur showdown at the end a little more), but it’s a fun movie.

And I think that’s fine. A movie shouldn’t set out to confuse its audience. However, I think more movies should challenge the audience. And that’s exactly what Birdman does.

Birdman is a story that you can’t consume in just one sitting. It’s a film that rewards careful viewers. It’s a story that offers something new every time you consume it. Still, Birdman is probably not to sort of movie you’re going to go see with your buddies on a Saturday night in July. Weird stories are not easy to get on the first go around.

Hollywood knows this, and I think that’s why you don’t see weird films nearly often enough. They know what kind of story sells, and it more or less goes like this: Main Character begins in a world of order. Disorder causes a problem that only Main Character can fix. For the next sixty minutes or so, Main Character tries and fails to fix her/his problem. Finally, Main Character faces the problem in the climax and either succeeds or fails in the attempt (usually succeeds).

It’s a simplified version, sure, but it’s a story humans have loved ever since stories have been told. Just ask Joseph Campbell.

It’s a good formula, and one that’s been proven to work. But formulas are for math and science. They’re dangerous when used in art.

Art shouldn’t be formulaic. Art should be spontaneous, unpredictable, and, it shouldn’t always make immediate sense. Because isn’t the whole point of art to make you think, to make you look at the world a different way? Nothing makes us think quite like something totally strange and totally unlike what we’ve seen before.

Or a guy who caws like a bird.

The Babadook and the Power of Fantasy

June 23, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

The Babadook is not your average horror film.

There’s no gratuitous violence. There aren’t any jump-out scares. No blood. And–thank god–there are no dumb teenagers.

The Babadook is the story of Amelia Vannick (played by Essie Davis), a widow who lives alone with her troubled son, Samuel (Noah Wiseman). Amelia’s husband died on the same day her son was born, and neither of them have been quite right since. One night, Amelia finds a creepy book in her son’s room called Mister Babadook. The horror begins when the creature from the book stalks the family.

It might not sound all that scary from my description, but, trust me, The Babadook will frighten even the most experienced horror junkies. So what does this film do so well?

In a word: juxtaposition.

The Babadook pairs reality with fantasy, depression with home invasion, and suppression with the supernatural. Despite the poster and the synopsis, this film is as much about loss as it is about a monster.

Take writer/director Jennifer Kent’s interpretation of her own film, for instance: “Now, I’m not saying we all want to go and kill our kids, but a lot of women struggle. And it is a very taboo subject, to say that motherhood is anything but a perfect experience for women.”

It certainly isn’t for our main character, Amelia. Her husband died, she works at a job where she’s surrounded by death (a nursing home), and her son Samuel builds homemade weapons in the basement like a troubled little MacGyver. We can tell right from the beginning that the stress wears on her–and that much of her frustration is directed at Samuel.

As the film progresses and the Babadook invades the home, we see Amelia’s aggression heighten. The Babadook, in this case, represents Amelia’s suppressed anger; it’s no coincidence that it chooses to possess her and not her son. You’ve probably seen the moment from the trailer when Samuel shouts over and over, “Don’t let it in!” But his mother lets the Babadook–her anger–take full control, and that’s when things get even worse.

That is the power of fantasy. The Babadook is the personification of Amelia’s negative emotion, and a good one at that; if suppressed anger had a corporeal form, I’d imagine it wouldn’t be too pretty. Amelia sees the Babadook everywhere–in her home, at the police station, in her neighbor’s home. Here, writer/director Jennifer Kent gives us an important clue through the use of fantasy: Amelia can’t escape her negative emotions, no matter where she goes.

One of the coolest parts of the film is the use of montage. Not the kind of montage you see in a romantic comedy–I’m talking Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein’s theory of film montage. Basically, the idea is that if you constantly show two images together in sequence, you can give both images a new, greater meaning. For example, if you show an image of a crying baby followed by an image of the grim reaper, you’ve given greater meaning to both images: you’re indicating that that baby might die, or you’re showing the passage of life, from the cradle to the grave.

Montage is a type of juxtaposition, and Kent uses it extensively with the Babadook and Amelia’s depression. We often see images of Amelia and the Babadook mirrored–Amelia holds a steak knife and the Babadook has knifelike fingers, for instance. Eventually, the real image and the fantastical one combine, and both transcend their original meaning: they represent a mother’s wish to kill her son.

The ending, to me, is the most intriguing part of the whole film. Amelia confronts the Babadook, and in doing so, she confronts the anger she feels toward her son and the depression she feels regarding her husband’s death. But, interestingly enough, that doesn’t actually kill the creature. The Babadook lives in the basement, chained up and weakened, but still alive. Amelia goes down to feed it, and the film ends.

What does this mean? Well, it’s certainly not the sort of happy ending we might expect. If we look back to classic works of horror, we see the recurring use of the subterranean to represent the subconscious (Lovecraft and Poe use this form of symbolism a fair bit). When you see people going down into the earth, it’s as if they’re traveling to a suppressed, secret part of the psyche.

Amelia’s basement serves the same role–she hides her negative emotions down in her subconscious mind, where they can’t hurt her or her son any more. For a while, at least…

You don’t need violence and blood to be frightening, and I think The Babadook proves that beyond a doubt. In this age of senseless violence and gratuitous gore, I was very happy to find a film that focuses on psychology rather than shock value. Writer/director Jennifer Kent uses fantasy to frighten us in a way that reality never could.

So if you decide to watch, I suggest doing it on a weekend. You probably won’t be getting any sleep.

Like creepy stories? You might enjoy horror story “Sightings.” It’s about a reporter tracking an angelic creature that brings with it a mysterious plague.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey Review

December 29, 2012 / Kyle A. Massa

I just saw The Hobbit a couple of nights ago, and my first thought upon leaving the theatre was…what was wrong with that?

I’ve heard mostly bad things about this new installment, and I’m not entirely sure why. Criticisms range from slow pacing to tonal incongruence with the Lord of the Rings trilogy to Radagast the Brown (he’s already getting Jar-Jar Binks comparisons). I suppose I’d agree with the pacing argument, but only at the end of the film. Otherwise, I’d say that it was excellent. Not as great as the original trilogy, of course, but still pretty damn good in its own right.

Firstly, the effects were astounding. I know special effects don’t make a movie but…wow. They were just jaw dropping. No, literally. When the new and improved Gollum came on screen, my jaw actually dropped. I used to say that Avatar was the pinnacle of CGI. No longer. Right from the opening prologue scene, I was blown away.

I thought the film had a typically good script from the trio of Jackson, Phillipa Boyens, and Fran Walsh. Guillermo Del Toro even got a credit, which was nice to see. They did a good job weaving in some of the threads from The Silmarilion, and also expanding on other scenes. Some cameos by Cate Blanchett, Hugo Weaving, Ian Holm, Elijah Wood, and Christopher Lee were nice additions as well.

Another thing I liked were the homages to the original trilogy, both in the script and visually. For example, the shot where Frodo slips in the Prancing Pony and the ring falls onto his finger is copied exactly in The Hobbit, only this time with Bilbo instead of Frodo. Also, Azog comments on the dwarves smelling of fear. A similar remark is made by the orc Gothmog in Return of the King. A lot of franchises reference themselves, Pirates of the Caribbean, for example, but I found this to be a much more subtle and much more enjoyable way to do it.

Martin Freeman and Ian McKellan certainly stood out as Bilbo and Gandalf, respectively. Freeman brought the same energy to the role that Ian Holm had, plus an extra ounce of neurotic humor for good measure. And of course, Ian McKellan just was Gandalf. Great performances there.

As I alluded to at the beginning, the end of the film really dragged for me. Without spoiling anything for those who haven’t seen it, there was a lengthy, exciting action sequence that seemed like the logical climax and ending of this first installment. But in the words of Gandalf and Thorin, the party comes “out of the frying pan and into the fire,” immediately engaging in another skirmish. Faithful to the book, yes, but on film I thought it became anti-climactic. And not only that, there were still about fifteen minutes left at that point. Could’ve been much more exciting if they’d just ended it a tad sooner.

…

Overall, I thought that The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey was too harshly judged by critics and audiences alike. Sure, there were some problems with the tempo, but nothing so heinous that the film was ruined.

Rating: 8.5/10

Dark Knight or Dark Knight Rises?

August 21, 2012 / Kyle A. Massa

Four years ago, I (like many others) saw Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight. Two and a half hours later, I came out of the theatre thinking that there would never be a superhero film as good as that.

I was wrong.

I know I’m probably in the minority here, but I thought that The Dark Knight Rises was a better film than was The Dark Knight. Shocking, I know. I surprised myself when I decided this. But nevertheless, I truly believe that Rises was the best in the trilogy. Let me tell you why.

For starters, let’s get one thing out of the way. Heath Ledger’s performance as the Joker was incomparable. Incredible. Indescribable. His mere presence on the screen was enough to compel millions of filmgoers to flock to the theaters. And whether or not you think his death had anything to do with it, he still won the Academy Award for the role. But a performance like that can be a detriment as well as a strength. When the villain literally steals the show from the hero, you might have a problem.

Here’s a simple test to prove my point. Go find a friend who saw The Dark Knight and loved it. That shouldn’t be too hard. Now ask that friend why she or he loved the movie so much. I’ll bet you a cool thousand that the answer was two words: “The Joker.”

Now see if you can find a friend who liked Rises more than Dark Knight. That might be a little more tricky. I’ll bet you another thousand that they have a much different answer than just one actor’s performance.

My point is this: The Dark Knight was too Joker-centric. Christopher Nolan knew it, Jonathan Nolan knew it, and everyone who saw the film knew it too. Everyone loved it. But I felt that it became less about Batman/Bruce Wayne’s character and more about “what can Batman do to stop the Joker?”

The Dark Knight Rises introduces us to a very different Batman. Ruined both physically and spiritually, I found him to be a much more compelling character this time around, with far more dramatic depth than in the previous two installments. We got to see a much more human side to Bruce Wayne, a much more vulnerable side, one that has doubts about the Batman. I found this to be a brilliant conflict: the idea that Batman no longer wants to be Batman.

And let’s not forget the ending. The final twenty minutes of the film were brilliant. I thought that the Nolan brothers did a fantastic job playing with filmgoers expectations, such as with Batman’s death and the presence of Robin. It was excellent screenwriting, in my opinion, and it helped to elevate the film above a mundane superhero story and into very human territory.

Yes, the critics will say that the Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle relationship was underdeveloped, among other complaints. I completely agree. But the film isn’t a romance. It’s an action film and the conclusion to a trilogy.

Of course, based on the ending, it is possible that it isn’t the conclusion. It’s possible that there will be a spin-off series of Robin films.

We can only wait and hope.

The Avengers!

May 3, 2012 / Kyle A. Massa

Tonight, I’m going to The Avengers midnight premier. Well, actually the 12:20 showing, but close enough. The midnight show was already sold out, so that should tell you how popular this movie is already.

The plot centers around four well-known superheroes coming together to fight some crazy super villian. The studios also decided to throw in a couple lesser-known superheroes (as if four wasn’t enough), plus the great Samuel L. Jackson (who is pretty much playing himself, but with an eyepatch).

The film is written and directed by Joss Whedon, creator of numerous TV series such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly, and Dollhouse. More recently, Whedon helped co-write and produce The Cabin In The Woods, which has thus far been a good box office draw.

Personally, I think The Avengers should be pretty good (…and so does everyone else, but whatever). At first I was afraid it would just be a ridiculous explosion-fest, but from what I’ve heard, the script goes a little deeper than that.

Also, I’ve never been to a midnight premier, so that should be a good atmosphere. I just hope I don’t get stuck in the front row…

Oh, and I’m calling this now. They’re going to set up for a sequel.

You heard it here first.

I JUST KILLED A DOG! (I bet you’ll read this now.)

April 26, 2012 / Kyle A. Massa

Before we start, just to be clear, I’ve never actually killed a dog. But dogs are the topic of today’s blog, or rather, animals in general. Have you ever been to a movie in which an animal is killed? People get mad. What’s funny is, nobody seems to care when, in the very same scene, a human being is killed.

Of course, I should first clarify what I’m talking about. I’m sure that many people were moved when Jenny died in Forest Gump or when Dumbledore died in Harry Potter. But these were characters that we had connected with over the course of the film. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about action films in which people are being blown away in every other shot. Most of the time, viewers don’t even blink.

Take the same movie, but now replace that nameless extra with a dog. Suddenly you have a mutiny in the theater. Chairs get destroyed, popcorn begins to fly, chaos reigns supreme…

Of course, I’m exaggerating. By not by much. I kid you not, I’ve been to movies where people have left the theater after seeing a cat get killed. I’m not trying to say that this isn’t upsetting, but at least ten humans were killed earlier in the film, and no one flinched.

So what does this say about us? Why do we find dying animals so upsetting?

Personally, I think it might be about cuteness. Yes, cuteness. Show someone a video of a guy stepping on an ant. Very few people will get upset. But replace that ant with a kitten, and you’re in for it. And what’s the difference between an ant and a kitten? You guessed it. Cuteness.

I’m sure there are thousands of other explanations for this phenomenon, but honestly, I don’t care to spend five-thousand plus words exploring them. I think the reason probably varies from person to person.

At any rate, I’ll leave you with this parting question: why do we always assume that animals are all innocent and cuddly?

Hasn’t anyone ever read Cujo?