Portrayal of Theme in Wong Kar-Wai Films

Wong Kar-Wai has established himself as an auteur primarily through his cinematography. The unique highly stylized look of his films is perhaps their most memorable feature – but the themes of his films permeate even more deeply between his films. The three most important themes of Wong Kar-Wai’s films are time, isolation, and a fascination with the moment. The films As Tears Go By (1988), Days of Being Wild (1990), and Chungking Express (1994) address these themes in a variety of ways. These elements are most prominent in Days of Being Wild and Chungking Express, films made after he had established himself with As Tears Go By, but these themes arise in As Tears Go By as well.

The significance of the individual moment in Wong Kar-Wai’s films is perhaps the most personal feature of his storytelling. Wong Kar-Wai has a nostalgic fascination with Hong Kong in the 1960s, in which “Wong recreates a ‘60s Hong Kong that is both nostalgic and contemporary, evoking both tradition and modernity” (Wright). Wong himself moved to Hong Kong in 1963 at the age of five (Brunette 20), so certainly Wong’s depiction of Hong Kong in the 1960s is highly reflective of his childhood during the same period.

Of the three films mentioned, only Days of Being Wild is actually depicted in this setting. Days of Being Wild relates to another moment in this period as well, it is a tribute to the “Ah Fei” films of the 1950s and ‘60s – Wong’s childhood (Teo 32-34). A reminder of the 1960s does appear in Chungking Express, as “California Dreamin”, a popular song released in 1965 plays repeatedly in the film’s second narrative and reminds the audience of the time.

Many of Wong Kar-Wai’s characters are products of a moment – they look back on a moment in the past when things were perhaps happier. This is easily seen in the characters 223 and 633 of Chungking Express. 223 is stuck on the day when his girlfriend broke up with him, April 1. He lives this by purchasing a can of pineapple with an expiration date of May 1, at which time he has decided that his girlfriend will come back to him or their love will have expired. 633’s apartment serves as a relic of a moment, when the flight attendant left him. Her uniform still hangs, and he interacts with the objects in the apartment in relation to their role in the couples lives’. The situation is slightly different in As Tears Go By, but elements of the moment remain. Andy Lau’s character Wah is a man who “lives in the moment”. He lives the fast life of a gangster, and does not concern himself with the past or the future. Therefore he is similarly single minded as 223 and 633 are.

Another theme of Wong Kar-Wai’s films that is shown through his characters is isolation. In the case of Days of Being Wild, while the characters are connected, they fail again and again to create lasting relationships (Wright). The film is full of failed pairings, both Li-zhen and Mimi want Yuddy, but Yuddy really just wants his mother (Brunette 18). Stephen Teo suggested that another issue in these failed pairings is Yuddy’s own love for himself, which also keeps him isolated from others (Teo 40-41). In Chungking Express, while the characters are dealing with a past failed relationship, they struggle to fully connect again. In the case of 223, after he is finally successful in bringing the woman with the blonde wig back to his hotel room, she falls asleep and their relationship fails to develop any further. For 633, after he and Faye are finally supposed to have a date, she instead flies to California and stands him up. They again are paired in the end, but the future of their relationship is ambiguous.

Isolation is also shown through Wong Kar-Wai’s narrative, “Wong effectively highlights the fact that people are in close physical proximity, but can be so far apart, and indeed are so very far apart, at the same time” (Wright). This refers to Chungking Express, during a monologue, 223 speaks of being extremely physically close to the woman with the blonde wig and Faye for an instant, but alludes to the failure of intimate connection.

The monologue is another tool of Wong Kar-Wai to further his theme of isolation. “The isolation of his characters often gives way to voiceover monologues in which his character’s status as outsiders is constantly reiterated. The alienating space of the city is often the backdrop for inhabitants who struggle to mentally articulate their own sense of place and identity within the urban landscape” (Wright). This particular vehicle of dialogue is as isolated as dialogue can be; the accompanying cinematography portrays this as well. Wong Kar-Wai’s monologues are delivered over imagery that isolates the character from their environment.
The stylish cinematography of Christopher Doyle echoes Wong Kar-Wai’s narrative. The iconic image of the protagonist walking along on a city night as indistinguishable extras race by is perhaps the most powerful imagery of isolation in Wong Kar-Wai’s films. In Days of Being Wild there are a number of two-shots in which only one character is in focus, additionally, instead of a typical shot/reverse shot dialogue, there are sequences of dialogue where the camera remains on only one of the characters (Brunette 24). Finally, the film features a large number of night scenes where the characters travel streets that are empty and lonely.

Isolation appears in As Tears Go By much like the theme of the moment does, through Wah. The romance between Wah and Ngor works because before her arrival in his life, he is an isolated figure. He is shown in the gangster life style, but as a person he stands apart from the other gangster characters like Fly and Tony. Wah has a sense of duty towards Fly, but there is very little intellectual or emotional connection portrayed between the two throughout the film.
A feeling of isolation is impossible to escape in Wong Kar-Wai’s films. It is delivered in such a variety of forms that is the most evident of his common themes; it is a constant feature of the narrative, even when the characters are not isolated on the screen.

The final theme of Wong Kar-Wai’s films is time. In As Tears Go By the importance of time is implied through Ngor’s introduction. She appears at the door just as Wah gets off the phone, and appears to be an extremely unhealthy individual; she looks frail and wears a mask over her mouth – as if she has a terminal condition (Teo 20).

The theme of time comes on much stronger in Days of Being Wild; through out the film clocks appear on screen, reminding us that time is important. Clocks tick off-screen, a woman cleans a clock, Yuddy says that his watch has been stolen so he asks Tide for the time; one scene even opens with a shot of a wristwatch (Wright). When Yuddy meets Li Zhen he says “let’s be friends for one minute”. Direct mention of time appears in dialogue quite regularly in Wong Kar-Wai films. The specific mention and overwhelming time-related imagery bombards the audience with the notion that time is important.

Time appears again in both narratives of Chungking Express. A measure of time is the central plot as 223’s narrative begins. Everyday he purchases a can of pineapple that will expire on May 1; exactly one month after his girlfriend broke up with him. This measure of time is symbolic to 223, as he has decided that by that point she will return to him, or their love will have expired, just as the pineapple. Eventually he becomes concerned with the idea of time expiring. As a homeless man turns down an offer of free food because “it’s expired”, 223 says, “I wonder if there’s anything in the world that won’t expire?”. This concern with time and expiration drives the first narrative in the film, as in a way he fails to create a real relationship with the woman in the blonde wig before their time has expired as well.

The role of time in the second narrative is very different, as it is more concerned with the passage of time. The fact that time has passed since 633’s relationship with the flight attendant is shown through the objects in his apartment, like the rag that is falling apart. 633’s inability to move on is measured through things like the deteriorating wash-towel. Faye goes into 633’s apartment day after day and changes things inside, this repeated action alludes to their failure to act on their mutual attraction. Additionally, when Faye’s character leaves she makes a fake boarding pass for 633 that is postdated one year. This measure of time comes again when Faye arrives at the snack bar one year later and is reunited with 633.

While the circumstances surrounding As Tears Go By, Days of Being Wild, and Chunking Express differ they carry similar messages through their use of theme. As Tears Go By is a combination of a romance and a gangster movie that marked the beginning of his career, but also carries typical gangster genre notions – unlike the rest of his films. Days of Being Wild established the visuals, music, and plot devices of his style. While Chungking Express is the product of his uncanny production style, made in two months while filming another movie, and tells a story just as engaging as any of his other films. All three films concern themselves the time, isolation, and the individual moment, themes central to Wong Kar-Wai’s body of work and the director himself.

Wong Kar-Wai films tell similar tales. Characters drive the story; a solid plot does not exist. Pairings of people explore relationships but are never truly fulfilling. Characters live for moments past and struggle to break from their troubling pasts. Loners struggle for connection with other individuals. His films are melodramatic tales of many of the darker elements of the human experience. As we struggle with time, isolation, and reflect on moments past, the characters live similar experiences on the screen.


Works Cited
Brunette, Peter. Wong Kar-Wai. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2005. eBook.
Teo, Stephen. Wong Kar-Wai. London: British Film Institute , 2005. eBook.
Wright, Elizabeth. "Wong Kar-Wai." Senses of Cineman. pag. Web. 6 May 2011.
.

Star Wars: A Sprawling Western Samurai Space Opera

Perhaps the most successful film franchise ever created, Star Wars has had a great deal of influence on films throughout the world, especially in Science Fiction. But where did George Lucas dream up that extensive universe that enticed millions of moviegoers? The answer is simple - they already existed. George Lucas utilized and blended existing story telling archetypes and film genres to create his own universe.

The first archetype exemplified by Star Wars is the Hero’s Journey, in fact, the Star Wars films contain five Hero’s Journeys, the primary being that of Luke Skywalker (Henderson: 1997 p. 20). In mythology, often the hero is unknowingly the offspring of important figures. Perseus is the son of Zeus, but a simple fisherman raises him – much like Luke is the son of Darth Vader and Senator Amidala, but his Aunt and Uncle raise him. The journey begins with a call to action; in Luke’s case this call to action comes when he accidently finds a message from a princess in a droid he has purchased.

The young hero often finds an obstacle early on that they cannot pass without help; in Luke’s case this is the Tusken Raider attack. The Tusken Raiders are about to end Luke’s journey rather abruptly when Ben Kenobi comes to his rescue. In mythology this aid is usually a guide or teacher - in the Arthurian legend, Merlin guides Arthur. Merlin gives Arthur a sense of direction and guides him to the tools he will need. In Star Wars Ben Kenobi serves as Luke’s Merlin, Kenobi’s tale about Luke’s father gives Luke the ambition to be something more, and he gives Luke his father’s lightsaber (The sword being its own symbol in mythology). On top of that, the two even look strikingly similar.

The hero must refuse the call before the journey begins; when Kenobi offers the journey to Luke he initially makes excuses, and only embarks after discovering the Empire has decimated his family. The first threshold in Luke’s journey is leaving Tatooine but he must find the means to do so – and so enter Han Solo and Chewbacca, the hero’s partners. The Argonauts along with their ship, the Argo, enable Jason to embark on his hero’s journey, just like Han and Chewy along with the Millenium Falcon allow Luke to leave Tatooine.

The labyrinth is what separates the hero from the objective. When Luke and his allies find themselves on the Death Star they are essentially finding themselves in a mythical dungeon filled with dangerous beasts. The Death Star follows the tradition of “hero-monster-woman” where the hero must defeat the monster (Darth Vader) so he can rescue the damsel in distress (Leia). This is perhaps the biggest stretch from tradition, in that Luke does not defeat Darth Vader in the altercation, and Leia is far from the traditional helpless princess. In the process the guide (Kenobi) is lost, not unlike the eventual separation of Merlin and Arthur. The slaying of the dragon is a common theme in mythology, in Star Wars the dragon is the Death Star instead of some fearsome lizard. The destruction of the Death Star does not signify total victory however; much Beowulf’s tale is far from over after the slaying of Grendel.

In the second film, The Empire Strikes Back Luke separates himself from his allies and immerses himself in the ways of the Jedi on Dagobah in order to gain the power to overcome the obstacles that still lay before him. During his training Luke is called away as he fears his friends are in danger – this danger comes from the classical betrayal. As Judas betrayed Jesus to the Romans, Lando Calrissian betrays his friends to the Empire. Also within the Cloud City sequence Luke faces his most harrowing test yet, his first confrontation with Darth Vader, and of course the fatherhood reveal. This struggle between father and son is ingrained in the hero’s journey with the story of Zeus and Cronus.

The opening of Return of the Jedi begins with Luke’s return to Tatooine and the point of The Hero’s Return. As Odysseus returns to Ithaca a tested hero, Luke returns to Tatooine where his new skills are put into action. In Jabba’s Palace Luke is tested by the Rancor, yet another beast. Following the escape from Jabba’s Palace Luke completes his training and the Empire has a resurgence of power with the second Death Star. It is on the second death star that Luke returns to the labyrinth scenario for a second time. This time the Emperor serves as the beast at the center. Similar to Theseus’ half man and half animal opponent in his labyrinth, Luke must also fight a half man, the half man and half machine Darth Vader. Upon defeating the Emperor and his resolution with his father, Luke has completed his hero’s journey (Henderson: 1997 p.20-113).
George Lucas perhaps did not intend for his story to follow the Hero’s Journey so carefully as he explained, “I was trying to take certain mythological principles and apply them to a story. Ultimately, I had to abandon that and just simply write the story. I found that when I went back and read it, then started applying it against the sort of principles that I was trying to work with originally, they were all there”. This makes a certain statement about the quality of the story being told in Star Wars, the same elements that give ancient myths the timelessness that they exemplify are subconsciously ingrained in the story of Star Wars as well.

The Star Wars saga also finds itself derived from a great deal of more contemporary sources as well. The most obvious being science fiction films, in which it has been a source of inspiration for films that followed as well. Science fiction, according to Merriam-Webster is “fiction dealing principally with the impact of actual or imagined science on society or individuals”. With perhaps the two exceptions of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Tarkovskiy’s Solaris (1972), science fiction films were lower budget B-movie productions. Star Wars is differs from both of these styles, it’s a major science fiction movie on the scale of 2001 and Solaris, but without the art house focus - it has more of the adventurous feel of serials like Buck Rogers. The themes of science fiction during the 1970’s were generally apocalyptically themed and were far from what Star Wars was all about (Empire of Dreams: 2004). So, with these considerations, perhaps Star Wars added more to the science fiction genre than it derived, by bringing large-scale sci-fi action to the big screen.

George Lucas was a fan of Westerns since his youth, so naturally the genre would have an influence in his career to follow, and it is not difficult to see a plethora of Western conventions in Star Wars. The Western enjoyed its golden age just after World War II, and had largely fallen out of fashion by the 1970’s (Henderson: 1997 p. 126), but with the space race came a new frontier. George Lucas took the conventions that had previously been found in stories of the American frontier and put them in space. On Tatooine, with his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, Luke enjoys life on the frontier. Their moisture farm far outside the space ports just like the traditional Western cabin. Native Americans often served as the villains to the settlers; the natives of Tatooine, the Sand People raid the settlers in Star Wars. The Tusken Raiders riding around on their Banthas are just like Native American warriors riding on horseback. Both are shown with a great technological disadvantage and generally nomadic lifestyle, like the tipi, Tusken Raiders were even later shown to live in homes made of animal skin.

Other Western standards are re-skinned in Star Wars, like the saloon. The Mos Eisley cantina is essentially a Western saloon filled a variety of alien species instead of hardened gunslingers and prostitutes. The character Greedo (and later Boba Fett) is bounty hunter, a common villain archetype in Westerns such as Sergio Corbucci’s The Great Silence (1968). The lawless of the cantina, (as shown when Han Solo shoots Greedo in the face and no one cares) is seen in the Western saloon as well. Han Solo himself is derived from the Western. The smuggler and pilot of the Millenium Falcon is hardly different from a Clint Eastwood character, the loner out to make a buck, who turns out to have a heart in the end.

Another Western convention is found in Return of the Jedi, in which the hero returns to clean up a town overrun by bandits. Luke returns to Tatooine, where Jabba the Hut has an unlawful grasp over the locals. Luke’s discovery of the destruction of his moisture farm and murder of his aunt and uncle is extremely reminiscent of John Ford’s classic Western The Searchers, when Martin returns home with Ethan to find his family murdered and his home burning (Sparknotes Editors 2005).

The Japanese samurai films such as Akria Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai (1954) and Yojimbo (1961) were an inspiration for Star Wars as well as the American Western genre. The heaviest influence of the samurai films and culture in Star Wars is in the Jedi. The dress of the Jedi and their weapons are the most telling sign of the samurai influence. The under robe worn by Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Japanese-style kimono (Henderson 1997: 187) and the two handed lightsaber is not unlike the samurai’s legendary katana. Darth Vader’s costume is partially inspired by samurai as well; his helmet was partially modeled after the Kabuto style helmet (Henderson: 1997: 189).
Finally, George Lucas derived much of the style of Star Wars from World War I and II films. In order to make the space combat sequences, Lucas and the visual effects supervisor, John Dykstra, created a montage of video from aviation combat (Henderson 1997: 174). This is scene as well in the design of the Millenium Falcon, with its cockpit being modeled after the famous B-29 “greenhouse” style (Henderson 1997: 173). The art of Star Wars owes much to the World War II itself, costumes for the Empire were largely inspired by Hitler’s SS, and many of the props were actually made from actual World War II weaponry (Henderson 1997: 184).

Star Wars has received plenty of flak in recent years with the release of the prequel trilogy, which was unpopular among many fans, and the release of further Star Wars media like the children’s cartoon series. The original trilogy however remains largely untainted by the backlash, and remains one of the most cherished stories ever told in American cinema. This success is undoubtedly related to the multitude of classic story and cinematic devices that form the foundation of the Star Wars universe.

Works Cited
Henderson, M (1997). Star Wars: The Magic of Myth. New York, NY: Batham Books.

Interview with George Lucas, Skywalker Ranch, Calif., September 27, 1996.

Lucas, George, Perf, Empire of Dreams. Prometheus Entertainment: 2004, Film.

SparkNotes Editors. (2005). SparkNote on Star Wars Episodes IV–VI. Retrieved
November 8, 2010, from http://www.sparknotes.com/film/starwars/

Casablanca and the Office of War Information

First and foremost Casablanca is one of the quintessential romances of American cinema, but with the perspective of American propaganda during World War II it serves as sufficiently more. In 1942, when the film was released, support for the war was growing but FDR’s administration still faced problems in fostering support for the war. The Office of War Information worked to convince a still largely unfavorable American populous, even after Pearl Harbor, to contribute to the war effort.

The Bureau of Motion Pictures was established in response to the movie industry’s offer of support in 1941. The Bureau was directed by President Roosevelt to advise Hollywood studios as to how they could help further the war effort. During the war, Hollywood managed to produced nearly 500 films every year and had audiences of eighty million per week domestically, and were matched internationally. Movies still had a huge drawing power even during the war, and the Office of War Information took notice. OWI director, Elmer Davis, said that movies could be “the most powerful instrument of propaganda in the world, whether it tries to be or not” and Roosevelt believed that movies were among the most effective ways to reach the people (Koppes 1997 pg 89).

The main focus of the Bureau of Motion Pictures was to review nearly every film made in America during the war and its contents in relation to the war (Shull 1996 pg 2). Often suggestions were made to filmmakers as to how films could be ‘improved’. The Bureau tried to abstain from censorship while promoting messages that were positive about the war and the Allies (Myers 1998 pg 58). Casablanca was a critical success in that it won three academy awards, but it was also a success to the Bureau of Motion Pictures. It was liked because of its depiction of a valiant underground effort, the United States as a haven for those who have been oppressed, and the sacrifice of personal desires for the sake of the superior cause that is the war effort (Koppes 1997 pg 98). The propaganda of Casablanca goes much further however, through symbolism of characters, the symbolism of Rick’s Café Américain, and the film’s style and story telling make it a much more powerful engine of propaganda.

The film’s central figure and hero, Rick (Humphrey Bogart) is introduced as the man who coined the phrase “I stick my neck out for nobody”. He is an American living abroad, and owns Rick’s Café Américain, the symbolism of which will be addressed later. Rick is quickly characterized as a tough guy, he has a fondness for a cause, and he fights for the underdog. These are all admirable qualities of course, but they’re also especially revered in American culture. The struggle of the underdog is seen in America’s independence from Great Britain and consequently has been ingrained in American ideals. The use of such a characterization is certainly propaganda, designed to connect the character with the audience’s affections.

Howard Koch, one of the film’s screenwriters, considers the possibility that the film is a political allegory in his book Casablanca Script and Legend. In this allegory Rick is President Roosevelt, as casa blanca is Spanish for “white house”, and “a man who gambles on the odds of going to war until circumstance and his own submerged nobility force him to close his casino (partisan politics) and commit himself – first by financing the Side of Right and then by fighting for it” (Koch 1973 pg 166). Such a consideration by one of the films screenwriters certainly inspires greater thought as to the depth that propaganda is imbedded into the films narrative. As Rick goes from “I stick my neck out for nobody” to sacrificing his feelings for Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) in favor of the greater good he hits a home run for the Bureau of Motion Pictures. Rick’s sacrifice could be identified in the audience’s own participation in wartime efforts such as rationing and price controls.

The film gives two connotations to the French, one through Ilsa and one through Captain Renault (Claude Rains). Ilsa earns more sympathy from the narrative than Renault. Ilsa’s intimate relationship with Rick is a more complicated ‘lady in distress’ situation. Perhaps Ilsa, being an attractive woman in peril, increases the audience’s attention to the plight of the French as a whole. Ilsa’s reappearance in Rick’s life eventually helps Rick realize that he cannot stay independent of the rest of the world, similar to America’s transition from avoiding conflict in Europe to joining the war. Ilsa’s troubles are a propaganda intended to create sympathy in the audience for the victim’s of the war throughout Europe.

The counter to Ilsa’s sympathetic character is Captain Renault. Renault essentially abides by the policy of “I stick my neck out for nobody” as well. He is treated much like a coward for working with Major Strasser (Conrad Veidt), cowardice being regularly with the French military today. Renault is a cynic, much like Rick in the beginning of the film, they look out for each other’s interests but they initially remain self-serving. By the end of the film, with Rick’s transition and Renault’s eventual commitment to free France, together they work against the Nazi’s. The development of Rick and Renault’s relationship is symbolic of America’s relationship with its wartime allies.

The villain of the film is Major Strasser, who has been sent to capture Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid), and is portrayed as a stereotypical Nazi. He is heartlessly cruel and robotically efficient. However, Strasser’s portrayal is not that of a sadistic or openly violent figure, he is always polite. The political climate that is portrayed in Casablanca is where Strasser draws his power and sense of impending danger. In the film Casablanca is not under Nazi control, however Strasser’s influence robs the French government of its authority, and the city is essentially treated as though it was under Nazi control. This distant Nazi threat is perhaps more menacing to America than depictions of war in Europe because it shows that the threat extends far beyond their frontlines - a scare tactic to make the audience question how safe they may actually be at home.

The most idyllic depiction of America’s allies comes from Victor Lazlo. Lazlo is presented as a nearly flawless character for his part in the war. Lazlo’s character has persisted in fighting the fascist regimes of the Axis powers even after his stay in a concentration camp. He is an inspiring figure of the underground resistance that shows that America has allies to be proud of. Lazlo is a character so noble that despite his importance to the resistance he is willing to sacrifice himself so that his wife can escape Casablanca. He symbolizes a cause that is great enough that Rick is willing to set aside his desires to support, suggesting that the audience be willing to make sacrifices to support the war and America’s allies. The character of Lazlo is propaganda in that he is used to show the audience that America has noble allies that are worth fighting and dying for.

Rick’s Café Américain is a symbol of American ideals that audiences would have recognized. The patrons are a melting pot of locals and a multicultural group of refugees. The cast is made of a variety of European actors and the characters come from a variety of nations, Sam and Rick being the only Americans in Rick’s Café Américain. The music is jazz, an American music style and a symbol of decadence, the musician is an African American who is shown with a great deal of respect, it is implied that he would not experience such equality outside of Rick’s. Within Rick’s Café there is gambling and drinking, the visitors are enjoying freedoms that are threatened elsewhere by the encroaching Nazis – much like Americans enjoyed freedom and peace at home during the war. Rick’s is the also the location that many of the refugees come to attempt to make their way to America, which is the ultimate freedom from fascism. This is a propaganda that inspires pride but also a sense of duty to help those who are oppressed reach these freedoms and uphold the American reputation.

At no point in the film does it seem that the propaganda of Casablanca is overwhelming. This is why Casablanca was so important - its propaganda is often, but not entirely, subtle and tasteful. The audience enjoys a memorable love story unfolding on screen while being reminded of their American values and duties. There is clear symbolism throughout the movie, as characters and locations stand for more than they may appear. It is easy to see why The Bureau of Motion Pictures and audiences alike praised Casablanca - the audience is treated to a classic romance that stands as an impeccable piece of story telling, and as Elmer Davis said “The easiest way to inject propaganda into most people’s minds is to let it go in through the medium of entertainment picture when they do not realize they are being propagandized”.

Works Cited

Curtiz, Michael. Casablanca. Warner Bros. Pictures. 1942.

Koch, Howard. Casablanca Script and Legend. Woodstock NY: The
Overlook Press, Inc, 1973. Print.

Koppes, Clayton. (1977). What to Show the World: The Office of
War Information and Hollywood, 1942-194. The Journal of American History, 64(1)

Myers, James. The Bureau of Motion Pictures and Its Influence on

Film Content During World War II. Lewiston NY: The Edwin

Mellen Press, 1998. Print.

Shull, Michael. Hollywood War Films, 1937-1945. Jefferson NC:

McFarland & Company, Inc., 1996. Print.

Mortally Challenged Citizens for Social Justice

George A. Romero began his acclaimed Dead series in 1968 with his groundbreaking film Night of the Living Dead. Night totally revolutionized horror films, ending the domination of Gothic horror films that preceded it, and creating the zombie apocalypse style horror film. Night has been described by many as a critique of 1960’s American culture and it is undoubtedly loaded with social commentary about race, consumerism, and the American family.

            Set in the 1960’s, a volatile period of race relations in America’s history, Night has a great deal to say about race. Early in the film the audience is introduced to who is to become the film’s hero, Ben. Played by Duane Jones, this was the first time an African American had a starring role in a horror film, a fact of significant social importance. It should also be noted that Jones portrayed his character against the initial ideas of Romero, who intended the character to be low class and poorly educated. Stephen Harper, the senior lecturer of Media Studies at the University of Portsmouth draws similarities between social concerns in the 1960s, when to many people, it seemed as though there might be a race war in America, and Night of the Living Dead.  Harper states that the zombies in the film are a metaphor for oppressed racial minorities in America.

To many people, it seemed as though there might be a race war in America. Conservative, reactionary discussions of this possibility often focused — as they sometimes do today — on the possibility that "we" might soon be outnumbered by "them." The line in Night of the Living Dead "we don't know how many of them there are" highlights this racist concern with numbers and the fear of being outnumbered or "swamped."

In this quote Harper explains the hidden message of the film’s zombie apocalypse as a metaphor for racial unrest in 1960’s American. The end of the film perhaps best solidifies this metaphor, as stereotypical ‘rednecks’ roam the countryside hunting zombies, defeated zombies are shown hanging from trees – totally reminiscent of lynching culture. The death of the hero Ben at the end of the film at the hands of a white man would have certainly reminded audiences of the deaths of civil rights activists Malcolm X in 1965 and Martin Luther King Jr. earlier in 1968.

            There is a point in the film where there is a disagreement in the house about where they should. Ben is steadfast about remaining upstairs, while Mr. Cooper is adamant about hiding in the basement. After deciding that they will hide separately the two realize that there is only one radio, and Ben even threatens to kill Mr. Cooper in order to keep the radio. This is a common theme in all of Romero’s film, that our consumerist culture has taught us to value our “stuff” above all us and how this attitude prevents us from working together.

            The Cooper family in Night of the Living Dead is the only traditional family unit, and provides insight on Romero’s opinion of the “nuclear family” of the 1950s and ‘60s. The family is first depicted as the “nuclear family” archetype in their choice of hiding spot. The basement was a key idea of protection for families in this era, it was supposed to protect them from Soviet bombing should the Cold War heat up. The Coopers are hiding in the basement of the farmhouse for evidently a significant amount of time before revealing themselves to Ben and Barbara above. The Cooper family unit is failing, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper openly discuss their dismal marriage and their daughter is infected. The family ends up imploding, as Karen literally eats her father. Through the Coopers Romero creates his idea of the deterioration of the “nuclear family.

            Dawn of the Dead, the sequel to Night has been accepted as a metaphor for the dangers of consumerism but also briefly touches on media and race as well. The film opens with a statement on the integrity of news media. As people scramble in the studio there is a debate over the posting of outdated and potentially dangerous information about aid stations. The station manager insists that the inaccurate information be posted so that viewers will remain on his broadcast, so the station can get higher ratings. 

            The next scene of the film takes the audience to a housing project where a SWAT team waits to storm the building. One of the officers is making frequent racially charged remarks about the “lowlifes” in the building, the same officer fires on both live and undead people in the building without discretion. This racial discrimination by law enforcement has become a common theme in popular culture.

            The messages on consumerism begin with the setting in which the protagonists spend most of the film, a shopping mall. The characters are living out a consumerist fantasy of being able to run amuck through a mall and take anything their heart desires. At the same time Romero shows zombies wandering around the mall as campy mall music plays the background and the loudspeaker announces deals and incentives in the stores, comparing the regular mall shopper to a mindless zombie. At one point a zombie is even taking change from a fountain the in mall, the message is far from subtle. As the characters discuss why the zombies are swarming to the mall Peter says, “…what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives”, signifying the importance of the shopping mall in consumerist culture.

            The protagonists immediately begin to indulge in the consumerist fantasy, as soon as they arrive at the mall the characters reveal their consumerist minded priorities with the quote “Get the stuff we need! I’ll get a television and a radio”, as if TV and radio are more important than securing the mall, or getting food. After finally securing the mall there is a montage of the characters looting the store, taking food and luxuries, trying on clothes, all the while a cash register keeps a total of the cost as the protagonists live out the fantasy. After their fun there is a discussion about the zombies between Francine and Peter, Francine asks, “What the hell are they?” to which Peter replies “They’re us, that’s all. There’s no more room in hell”. Here Romero solidifies the comparison of the shopping mall consumer to a mindless zombie, and condemns the culture.

            At the climax of the film a gang of marauding bikers finds the mall and decide to set their sights on it. As Stephen says, “This is ours. We took it. It’s ours”, a battle between the protagonists and the bikers unfolds inside the mall over the ‘stuff’ inside. Even as Stephen and Peter kill their fellow marauders, the bikers are shown looting the stores; one even takes a TV, and stealing from the zombies in the mall. At one point a group of bikers hold down a zombie and remove her jewelry as another takes the wallet from a zombie’s back pocket. Romero shows that even when these no longer hold the arbitrary value our society has applied to them; our consumerist mentalities drive us to take them anyway as if they hold value.

            For most when the word zombie comes to mind, it is not often followed by the idea of social commentary or social justice. But this genre of films owes its popularity to a series of more serious films, where beyond the carnage and horror more important messages about our society lay hidden. Unfortunately the genre has strayed from its roots, and is often viewed like a ‘red-headed stepchild’ by critics.

           

Works Cited

Hardman, K. (Producer) & Romero, G. (Director). Night of the Living Dead. [Motion

Picture]. United States: Image Ten.

Harper, Stephen. (2010, February). Zombies, Malls, and the Consumerism Debate:

George Romero's Dawn of the Dead. Americana: The Journal of Popular Culture,

8(2). Retrieved from

http://www.americanpopularculture.com/journal/articles/fall_2002/harper.htm

Rubinstein, R. (Producer) & Romero, G. (Director). Dawn of the Dead. [Motion Picture].

United States: Laurel Group.

Simon Pegg interviews George A Romero. Time Out London (2005, September).

Retrieved from http://www.timeout.com/film/news/631/

Do The Kids Still Listen to Radiohead?

I’ve been thinking about music and it’s role in my life and others a lot lately. I started by musing over this question: “Do the kids still listen to Radiohead these days”, which was posed to my class jokingly by a TA last year. He assumed that in a room full of media students the answer would be overwhelmingly yes. Much to his dismay, and my own, only three people in the room responded as Radiohead fans.

I was more recently struck by an event that occurred while I was enjoying dinner last week. As I was discussing the question about the popularity of Radiohead with a friend of mine, a Ke$ha (yes I will humor her spelling) song came in the dining hall. Immediately there was reaction in the room, girls at the nearby tables song along, absentmindedly bobbing their head to the tune, others made half-hearted attempts at dancing. But overall it was clear that these people were more than familiar with the song, and that they enjoyed it.

I think I died a little bit at that moment. I was struck - bombarded with questions, as I still am, is this what my generation reveres? Ke$ha? Why does it matter? What makes artists like Radiohead so important to me? Why do I seem to have this assumed superiority of musical taste of Ke$ha fans? Is there any validity to that?

I suppose I do have some assumed superiority. I think music should convey emotion and provoke thought, much like a good film or book. It should have meaning and depth. It should be more than what you play in you’re dorm room while you pregame to go grind on someone, or while you’re out grinding on someone.

I imagine a sort of hierarchy of emotion. Much of today’s pop music is themed around fulfillment of bodily pleasures i.e. sex, drinking, drugs, etc. This strikes me a sort of lower class of emotion; it requires nothing from the listener aside from the ability to recognize the occasional double entendre or euphemism.

The ability to stimulate the intellect, emotion, serious reflection and thought, takes a superior craft. This is something distinctly lacking in pop music. When was the last time you felt challenged by a Lady Gaga song? Did you have to think about what point Rihanna was trying on her last album? In a time when music is so easy to attain - with such variety available, the idea that people would accept such mediocrity so regularly is appalling.

Blog Assignment 3A

Note: Imagery in this one is fan-made. There is no official music video for the original

The original song I have chosen to examine is Trent Reznor’s (Nine Inch Nails) “Hurt”, and its cover version is by Johnny Cash. The first difference between the two is a lyrical change, Cash decided to change the lyric “crown of shit” to “crown of thorns”, and this serves two purposes. The first being a religious connotation, Cash was a religious man who believed in redemption, especially at the end of his life, and “crown of thorns” would have most likely resonated with country fans than “crown of shit”. The second purpose that this lyric change provides is that it makes the song more radio friendly; by removing the only swear word in the song.

Although perhaps not immediately apparent, the intensity of the two versions is remarkably different. Both begin softly, and while Cash’s version maintains a comparatively stable intensity, it does become more intense at the second half of the chorus – it then regresses back to softer sound. Reznor’s version is a continually building experience. It begins with a much softer intro than Cash, but by adding various instruments as the song progresses and changing the intensity of his vocals, Reznor’s version culminates with the impression of a loud and intense piece of music with his explosion of sound that serves as a sort of finale. The minute or so of feedback and white noise creates a lot of tension in the listener (if you have not turned it off yet) that really is ever effectively released, you still feel almost violated and uneasy even after the track has faded.

These two versions have significantly different timbre that is set apart by the two very different artists. Johnny Cash is a country music legend, and consistently his music has a very tight tonal timbre, there is a great deal of affinity in his instrumentation and how it relates to his voice, his cover of “Hurt” is no different. Reznor’s version gains a noisy timbre as it progresses, from the white noise track that becomes apparent during the softer parts of the song and the use of distorted instruments in the latter half of the song. The distortion also contrasts Reznor’s soft voice and creates an uneasy feeling in the listener as the song moves away from the more restrained portion of the song.

Both versions of the song have the verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse organization. The instrumentation on the second chorus of Reznor’s version changes however, and gives the song a more powerful feeling as it comes to a close, while in Cash’s version the instrumentation does not change.

I enjoy both versions of the song, but in the end I will always prefer the original. Cash’s cover does not portray the genuine emotion that I feel in the original, it just seems like a radio single. The original version translates like a real emotional experience; it evolves and changes as the song progresses. The mainstream appeals of the cover (shorter time, lyrical changes, etc) take away from the experience. I enjoy the industrial/rock instrumentation of the original; it makes it sound more raw and visceral. I also feel as though the song’s power comes from its heartfelt lyrics, and to say that someone else can do it better than the writer is a slap in the face to a gifted artist.

Blog Assignment 1A

What kind of a creative person am I? I guess it would be necessary to elaborate on what I like to create first. I'm a video production major, but I haven't had the opportunity to make videos or films of my own yet, so I can't really say what kind of filmmaker I would be. I would consider myself a writer, and seeing as that's where media begins, that's relevant right? 

So what kind of a creative person am I then? A lot of my writing is self reflective, and is almost entirely used as an emotional outlet. Most of what I write no one but myself will ever read, but what passes through my filter and I allow other people to read is an objective observer's view on the world around me  and human interaction. Generally when I'm writing I can see the action to a T, but I can't draw, so film is a genre I want to express my creativity through; through film I can utilize similar-minded individuals abilities to help create my vision. 

Sunhine (2007)

Contrast and Affinity - Danny Boyle and Alwin H. Kuchler

One of my favorite directors is Danny Boyle. I've been a fan since I first saw 28 Days Later (2002) years ago. Boyle is known as a restless individual on set, he likes to be involved in as much as possible. I think this shows in his work, as his films transcend a variety of genres but they always have commonalities that show his influence and power as a director. They all carry their own self contained visual style, but it always stands out in every film. His films also always progress at a breakneck pace as they abound with energy.

My favorite Boyle film is Sunshine, and it's one that I admire the most. The film was made for a relatively small budget and carries the look of a Hollywood science-fiction film, which is impressive. The visual style of the film is its most defining element, and its key feature is its contrast and affinity. As demonstrated in the picture above, the film is carefully crafted around the use of color. Danny Boyle and Alwin Kuchler, the film's cinematographer, intentionally designed the interior of the ship (where most of the film takes place) with greys, greens, and blues, colors with a visual affinity. After long scenes in the ship there are contrasting shots filled with yellow, in order to illustrate the significance of the sun in the film. 

The Devil's Backbone (2001)

Tension and Release - Guillermo del Toro

Guillermo del Toro is a director that took me by surprised. The first of his films that I saw was Hellboy (2004), which I went into with little to no expectations - Hellboy's art direction absolutely blew me away. It didn't end there, for a film with such a dark tone and look del Toro managed to fit light hearted comedy into the film in a way that didn't make the film feel like B-movie. The thing I admire most about del Toro is that he's a writer as well. His films are a solely his vision from the beginning - that's something I would love the opportunity to do just once, he's done it seven times.

My favorite scene in a del Toro movie comes from The Devil's Backbone, when the film's protagonist, Carlos, is being chased by the ghost of Santi through the orphanage. The chase sequence constantly builds tension, which culminates as Carlos hides in the closet. He slowly moves toward the key hole to peer through, and as he does the haunting eye of Santi is staring back at him. Release follows as Carlos is spared by Santi, and he wakes up in the closet the following morning.

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Text and Subtext - George A. Romero

George A. Romero is the father of the zombie film as we know it today. Beginning with Night of the Living Dead (1968), his Dead series has transcended generations. As a zombie-enthusiast of sorts, I've always viewed Romero as a director with a message. His films have always had something important to say that seems to be lost to the typical viewer in the excess of gore and violence that also define his films.   Perhaps the quality of his work has dwindled in recent years, but as a fan, I continue to appreciate the social commentary that he crafts his films around.

Dawn of the Dead is to me, the high point in his career. It reached a more broad audience than Night of the Living Dead but maintained its social significance. In terms of its text, Dawn of the Dead is a defining apocalyptic horror movie - it has all the action, gore, and groundbreaking special effects that came to define the genre afterwards. The film's subtext carries much more, Romero uses the film as a podium to preach for social change. Above all it's a scathing take on consumerist culture, but the film also deals with race and gender.