I've watched good movies, and I've watched bad movies. I've read good books, and I've read bad books. I've seen good TV, and I've seen bad TV. I've heard good music and I've heard bad music. I've bought good comic books, and I've bought bad comic books. I've played good video games, and I've played bad video games. I don't have a large enough sample size concerning stage productions to make a statement.
There are stories, ideas, characters, themes, motifs, ideas, and settings stretching far and wide across boundless boundaries and back again. They are all unique. Different subjects work differently in different mediums because different subjects require different mediums. Something like Half-Life could only work through the interactive, first-person narrative format a video game can provide. Likewise, the abstract horror and tortures of Guernica can only exist as oil on canvas.
And yet there's this false hierarchy that's always preached and always accepted: Books are always better. Read a book, support your local library, turn off the TV and read, enjoy silent reading time, etc. etc. etc. Literature and prose are the kings of all communications, and all others are garbage. Every kids' TV show has an episode where the characters learn books exist, and embark on a 22 minute adventure where reading is fun. Likewise, those same shows have episodes where somebody becomes obsessed with TV or video games, then needs to be weened off. An addiction to reading? That's good! An addiction to TV? That's bad! Let's not forget, these lessons are being dispensed on television. Is this irony or flagellation?
Understand me, I'm not being anti-literate. Books are one of the oldest and most versatile forms of entertainment and art. There's an infinite realm of possibilities and opportunities in the written word. Books are good, but books are only one of many different viable options. If books were the best option, there would be no alternatives because we found the perfect medium. But other options do exist because books are not perfect.
The problem with books is simple: They're not a visual medium. Whatever the author wants to convey, they convey. If the author says the hero is tall, the hero is tall. If he says the room was silent, the room was silent. If the author says everybody ran, screaming for their lives, everybody runs screaming for their lives. There's no ambiguity in words, right? Wrong! Words are nothing but ambiguity.
The author conveys what he chooses to convey, but the reader has the task of interpreting those words. When the author said the hero was tall, you could imagine him being six foot two, or you could imagine him being eighteen foot nine. When the author says the room is silent, you could imagine a surreal vacuum where no sound escapes, or simply an awkward pause in conversation while the radio drones on in the background. When the author says everybody ran screaming for their lives, you could imagine a hectic group funneling out the fire escape, or a frenzied mob crawling and clawing each other, stampeding and trampling others before dying in an explosive blast. Literature is a tabula rasa. A blank slate for the reader to interpret the author's words and meanings. They will vary from person to person. This is what visual mediums fix.
Visual mediums replace the open world of the author with a set and established image concocted in joint effort between the screenwriter and director. Peter Benchley told us Jaws was terrifying, Steven Spielberg showed us.
As I said earlier, there is no one medium better than another. There are only mediums more suited for the task at hand. Truly successful and inspiring (and profitable) works are frequently tested in different realms. MASH became a TV show. Legos became a video game franchise. The Addams Family became a cartoon. Spider-Man became a stage musical. Some work, and some send Broadway hopefuls to the hospital.
Which brings me to another complaint: Movies are not the end-all, be-all of media evolution.
Bitch and moan as much as you want concerning adaptations and remakes saturating the film market. Research and returns prove scientifically audiences prefer an established franchise. So movie studios dredge the world of art and entertainment for all viable properties, even if they seem like bad ideas at the time. I've either accepted this or I've become numb, because this truth doesn't bother me anymore.
What does bother me is the one-way expectation expected by others. Any noteworthy piece of art, be it a book, TV show, toy line, musical or video game is practically expected to be adapted into a feature length film. It's not an issue of "if" it's a matter of "when."
I first noticed the taste of this bitter pill while reading an internet discussion board concerning the recently released and forgotten Need For Speed adaptation. Somebody couldn't believe they were making a blatant Fast and Furious knockoff, meanwhile in their own words, "Where is our Bioshock movie, already?"
Not "I would have preferred a Bioshock movie," not "Bioshock would have made for a better movie," not "Is there any news on a Bioshock movie?" Just entitled expectations and disdain that his whims weren't met. I can't blame him. Everything has to be a movie, nowadays. That's the goal. If your work becomes a movie, you've succeeded. Abed never hoped for six seasons. He hoped for six seasons AND a movie.
If we can suddenly realize this faulty logic, maybe we can stop the stigma against adaptations by only making adaptations that work. The prime example of which being movies based on video games. There have been nearly three dozen feature-length movies based on video games, and they are all terrible. Video games don't fit amongst the restrictions of the motion picture medium. Gone is the interactivity, gone is the pacing, gone is the controllable camera, gone is the first-person experience. It becomes a third-person story on rails. It's as immersive as an animatronic ride.
Plain and simple, not everything needs to be a movie. Some stories don't
work as movies. Franchises can always expand outwards, but it doesn't
have to be in one inevitable direction.
Feel free to leave comments about how the first Resident Evil movie wasn't completely terrible, because I never get tired of hearing those flimsy excuses.
Showing posts with label Explanations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Explanations. Show all posts
6/08/2014
4/19/2014
Bursting Bubbles
We live in a culture bubble. To see the edge of this bubble, consider some of the most frequently adapted works in film and television:
Dracula (340 adaptations, created 1897)
Sherlock Holmes (292 adaptations, created 1887)
Frankenstein (202 adaptations, created 1818)
Tarzan (95 adaptations, created 1912)
Alice in Wonderland (45 adaptations, created 1865)
The Wizard of Oz (72 adaptations, created 1900)
The Phantom of the Opera (33 adaptations, created 1910)
A Christmas Carol (99 adaptations, created 1843)
Peter Pan (64 adaptations, created 1902)
Treasure Island (65 adaptations, created 1911)
Pride & Prejudice (26 adaptations, created 1813)
Winnie the Pooh (60 adaptations, created 1924)
Tom Sawyer (45 adaptations, created 1876)
The Three Musketeers (77 adaptations, created 1844)
All tallies according to IMDB. Totals may not be accurate. Actually, I guarantee it.
Notice anything strange? An overwhelming number of our beloved characters and stories come from the 19th century and early 20th century. Is that coincidence? Did we just stop making influential stories after 1929? Or did somebody slam on the cultural brakes?
Yes. Somebody did.
First appearing in 1928, Mickey Mouse was an overnight success, quickly becoming the face of Walt Disney Studios and The Walt Disney Company, as well as an icon of America and animation in general. He's a beloved character, a moneymaker, and a symbol of childhood joy and innocence. But of those three, he is a moneymaker first. Disney owns him, and Disney will make sure they and they alone will profit from him.
It all comes down to the Public Domain. The public domain consists of works that are publicly available; works that are unavailable for private ownership and subject to appropriation by anyone. Anybody can use, enjoy and interpret a public domain work ad infinitum. This is alternative to copyrighted works. Copyright gives the owner the exclusive right to reproduce the work in question, to prepare derivative works, to distribute copies of the work, and to perform/display the copyrighted work publicly. And no single copyrighted work has done more to redefine the definition of the public domain than Mickey Mouse.
The graph above demonstrates how the Walt Disney Corporation has altered and amended the rules of copyrights and copyright extensions. Every time Mickey Mouse comes close to entering the public domain, every time day care centers think they can paint his red shorts on their nursery walls without fear of reprisal, every time t-shirt companies want to emblazon their wares with Mickey's trademark ears without suffering an infringement suit, the Disney lawyers are ready to play hardball.
Disney is renowned for having some of the most vicious and tenacious lawyers in all the world. You don't ever want to be on the other side of a Disney deposition. These were people hired by Jefferey Katzenberg and Michael Eisner to do THEIR dirty work. They are scary people. But they certainly get the job done.
As it stands now, copyright for creative works extends 70 years beyond the creator's death. Or, in the case of corporate-owned content (such as Mickey), 95 years after the content's first publication. Mickey Mouse's image will enter the public domain in 2023 unless copyright extension law is extended again. And most likely, it will be.
This is why the pre-1925 cultural bubble exists. Content created before Mickey Mouse has entered the public domain, where anybody can try their hand at adapting the characters, stories and settings. They're as popular as stories get before the temporal roadblock makes novels, stories and cartoons entirely inaccessible for adaptation and interpretation. Nearly all content created since Mickey Mouse's debut is still privately owned and trademarked, and only a small number of artists, writers, and cartoonists are authorized by the copyright holder to handle that content. It's why there's a new spin on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow every Halloween, but Batman can never be handled by anyone DC disapproves of.
Copyright law was created with the intention of protecting content creators. When the content creator dies, copyright law protects the beneficiary and the artist's legacy. If copyright law is only protecting a company's interests, this becomes an issue of trademark. Mickey Mouse is being treated as nothing more than a logo, interchangeable with Walt Disney's iconic signature. And that's not right. Mickey Mouse is not a logo or slogan. He's a beloved character, and a symbol of childhood joy and innocence. We all know it, and though they'll never confess, Disney and their lawyers know it as well.
Disney can continue to use Mickey Mouse, they can continue to use Mickey Mouse as their logo, and most certainly Disney can advertise themselves as the originators of Mickey Mouse, but they shouldn't be allowed to deny others the opportunity to utilize the character. For every Mickey Mouse being withheld, there's a Phillip Marlowe, Bilbo Baggins and Cat in the Hat ready to see the grand scale of worldwide recognition, use and acceptance.
Where would Dorothy Gale be without her ruby slippers? They weren't in the original novel, but created for the 1939 film version. Boris Karloff's portrayal of Frankenstein's monster is so detached from Mary Shelley's image, the two are hardly the same character. Sherlock Holmes never said 'Elementary, my dear Watson,' until it was uttered by Basil Rathbone. But now, it's Holmes' most iconic piece of dialogue. And most applicable of all, what would Disneyland look like without Cinderella's castle?
Dracula (340 adaptations, created 1897)
Sherlock Holmes (292 adaptations, created 1887)
Frankenstein (202 adaptations, created 1818)
Tarzan (95 adaptations, created 1912)
Alice in Wonderland (45 adaptations, created 1865)
The Wizard of Oz (72 adaptations, created 1900)
The Phantom of the Opera (33 adaptations, created 1910)
A Christmas Carol (99 adaptations, created 1843)
Peter Pan (64 adaptations, created 1902)
Treasure Island (65 adaptations, created 1911)
Pride & Prejudice (26 adaptations, created 1813)
Winnie the Pooh (60 adaptations, created 1924)
Tom Sawyer (45 adaptations, created 1876)
The Three Musketeers (77 adaptations, created 1844)
All tallies according to IMDB. Totals may not be accurate. Actually, I guarantee it.
Notice anything strange? An overwhelming number of our beloved characters and stories come from the 19th century and early 20th century. Is that coincidence? Did we just stop making influential stories after 1929? Or did somebody slam on the cultural brakes?
Yes. Somebody did.
It all comes down to the Public Domain. The public domain consists of works that are publicly available; works that are unavailable for private ownership and subject to appropriation by anyone. Anybody can use, enjoy and interpret a public domain work ad infinitum. This is alternative to copyrighted works. Copyright gives the owner the exclusive right to reproduce the work in question, to prepare derivative works, to distribute copies of the work, and to perform/display the copyrighted work publicly. And no single copyrighted work has done more to redefine the definition of the public domain than Mickey Mouse.
Disney is renowned for having some of the most vicious and tenacious lawyers in all the world. You don't ever want to be on the other side of a Disney deposition. These were people hired by Jefferey Katzenberg and Michael Eisner to do THEIR dirty work. They are scary people. But they certainly get the job done.
As it stands now, copyright for creative works extends 70 years beyond the creator's death. Or, in the case of corporate-owned content (such as Mickey), 95 years after the content's first publication. Mickey Mouse's image will enter the public domain in 2023 unless copyright extension law is extended again. And most likely, it will be.
This is why the pre-1925 cultural bubble exists. Content created before Mickey Mouse has entered the public domain, where anybody can try their hand at adapting the characters, stories and settings. They're as popular as stories get before the temporal roadblock makes novels, stories and cartoons entirely inaccessible for adaptation and interpretation. Nearly all content created since Mickey Mouse's debut is still privately owned and trademarked, and only a small number of artists, writers, and cartoonists are authorized by the copyright holder to handle that content. It's why there's a new spin on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow every Halloween, but Batman can never be handled by anyone DC disapproves of.
 |
| For some reason, this included Joel Schumacher |
Disney can continue to use Mickey Mouse, they can continue to use Mickey Mouse as their logo, and most certainly Disney can advertise themselves as the originators of Mickey Mouse, but they shouldn't be allowed to deny others the opportunity to utilize the character. For every Mickey Mouse being withheld, there's a Phillip Marlowe, Bilbo Baggins and Cat in the Hat ready to see the grand scale of worldwide recognition, use and acceptance.
Where would Dorothy Gale be without her ruby slippers? They weren't in the original novel, but created for the 1939 film version. Boris Karloff's portrayal of Frankenstein's monster is so detached from Mary Shelley's image, the two are hardly the same character. Sherlock Holmes never said 'Elementary, my dear Watson,' until it was uttered by Basil Rathbone. But now, it's Holmes' most iconic piece of dialogue. And most applicable of all, what would Disneyland look like without Cinderella's castle?
4/11/2014
Notes on The Goat
In the Summer of 2004, a comedy popped up and disappeared without much fanfare. It was called The Terminal. I liked this movie, but it didn't get a lot of attention. It was a small, unambitious movie, drowned out by bigger, louder and dumber projects like Troy, The Day After Tomorrow and I, Robot. It's biggest downfall was the one-two punch of director Steven Spielberg and star Tom Hanks. Both were huge names in the movie world, and to tackle something so small seemed like an underachievement.
Regardless of public opinion, this film holds up. It receives my full endorsement, but that's not what I'm here to talk about today.
2004 was a weird time to live. Music was bad, and had been for about eight years. TV was on the cusp of a new golden age. Broadband internet was finally becoming widely available to the masses, ushering in the new concept of digital media. And movies were getting gritty.
This was post-9/11 America. It was a time when citizens were still afraid, still looking over their shoulders, still keeping their heads down. The Iraqi and Afghani wars were going full-steam ahead with no signs of slowing. Insurgencies kept popping up. Soldiers kept getting ambushed. Planes and boats were being shot at. It was a terrifying time to be alive. Please, oh please, just let us live another day, mister terrorist man.
It was also the year Michael Moore became a box office draw. He had previous, moderate success with Roger & Me, and Bowling For Columbine, but they were still just documentaries. You had to go out of your way to see them. The average person wouldn't have bothered. Fahrenheit 9/11, however, was a wide release. In the Summer. At the multiplex. It won the Cannes Film Festival. It was the number one movie in America at one point. This was no coincidence.
A subsection of Americans got tired of the constant paranoia in 2004. They were just done. I was a white suburban male high schooler, so of course I was on that liberal bandwagon, just as all angry, young 17 year-olds are to do. I'm neither pointing fingers or excusing my actions. We were all scared, and angry, and irrational back in 2004, and we all coped in our own ways. Some made radical, overly-simplified political statements, and some just tried their best to cope with the nonsense our world had become.
But what does any of this have to do with The Terminal? Back in 2004, Tom Hanks' character of Viktor Navorski was a mystery. He came from some non-descript, tumultuous, eastern-European nation called "Krakozhia," a stand-in for any soviet bloc nation. Due to language barriers and other such confusions, we don't know much about Viktor. He came from a war-torn homeland, he suffered from isolation, hunger, poverty, and due to a catch-22 in travel laws, he was forbidden from leaving the New York City airport.
The largest mystery is an omnipresent tin of Planters peanuts Viktor carries with him. Viktor's struggles with hunger plays a large, comedic role in the film's first act. Factoring in the age and dilapidated state of the can, it's strongly implied the tin no longer contains nuts. So what is inside?
The 2004-era mind races furiously. A bomb, or some sort of incendiary device? Chemical warfare? Nuclear waste, ready to serve? Retribution against American troops and figureheads? It all seems so insane that Tom Hanks, the nicest guy in Hollywood, could be a merchant of evil, but that was 2004 America's thought process. The voice of Woody the Cowboy could have been a sadistic madman.
I watched the film again recently. If it hadn't been my own thought process, I'd never had believed anybody could have mustered such a ridiculously inept analysis of the film. Viktor Navorski is a clown. He's a happy-go-lucky guy caught in a bad situation. He makes the most of it. It's a testament to the indomitable human spirit against unfair odds. He has zero grudges towards anyone. He just wants to live. It's a far more innocent mystery today.
Films are a product of their eras, but also a product of all subsequent eras. It's amazing to see how a film can change, evolve, and dither based on shifts in public perception. More than that, how a film with no ill-intentions can trigger feelings and emotions based on personal identity. It just goes to show, sometimes something small and unassuming can reflect something grandiose.
 |
| Are you not entertained?! |
Regardless of public opinion, this film holds up. It receives my full endorsement, but that's not what I'm here to talk about today.
2004 was a weird time to live. Music was bad, and had been for about eight years. TV was on the cusp of a new golden age. Broadband internet was finally becoming widely available to the masses, ushering in the new concept of digital media. And movies were getting gritty.
This was post-9/11 America. It was a time when citizens were still afraid, still looking over their shoulders, still keeping their heads down. The Iraqi and Afghani wars were going full-steam ahead with no signs of slowing. Insurgencies kept popping up. Soldiers kept getting ambushed. Planes and boats were being shot at. It was a terrifying time to be alive. Please, oh please, just let us live another day, mister terrorist man.
 |
| Reasonable solution. Shoot the fear. |
It was also the year Michael Moore became a box office draw. He had previous, moderate success with Roger & Me, and Bowling For Columbine, but they were still just documentaries. You had to go out of your way to see them. The average person wouldn't have bothered. Fahrenheit 9/11, however, was a wide release. In the Summer. At the multiplex. It won the Cannes Film Festival. It was the number one movie in America at one point. This was no coincidence.
A subsection of Americans got tired of the constant paranoia in 2004. They were just done. I was a white suburban male high schooler, so of course I was on that liberal bandwagon, just as all angry, young 17 year-olds are to do. I'm neither pointing fingers or excusing my actions. We were all scared, and angry, and irrational back in 2004, and we all coped in our own ways. Some made radical, overly-simplified political statements, and some just tried their best to cope with the nonsense our world had become.
 |
| Semi-accurate portrait of the writer as a young man. |
But what does any of this have to do with The Terminal? Back in 2004, Tom Hanks' character of Viktor Navorski was a mystery. He came from some non-descript, tumultuous, eastern-European nation called "Krakozhia," a stand-in for any soviet bloc nation. Due to language barriers and other such confusions, we don't know much about Viktor. He came from a war-torn homeland, he suffered from isolation, hunger, poverty, and due to a catch-22 in travel laws, he was forbidden from leaving the New York City airport.
The largest mystery is an omnipresent tin of Planters peanuts Viktor carries with him. Viktor's struggles with hunger plays a large, comedic role in the film's first act. Factoring in the age and dilapidated state of the can, it's strongly implied the tin no longer contains nuts. So what is inside?
The 2004-era mind races furiously. A bomb, or some sort of incendiary device? Chemical warfare? Nuclear waste, ready to serve? Retribution against American troops and figureheads? It all seems so insane that Tom Hanks, the nicest guy in Hollywood, could be a merchant of evil, but that was 2004 America's thought process. The voice of Woody the Cowboy could have been a sadistic madman.
 |
| Seems legit. |
I watched the film again recently. If it hadn't been my own thought process, I'd never had believed anybody could have mustered such a ridiculously inept analysis of the film. Viktor Navorski is a clown. He's a happy-go-lucky guy caught in a bad situation. He makes the most of it. It's a testament to the indomitable human spirit against unfair odds. He has zero grudges towards anyone. He just wants to live. It's a far more innocent mystery today.
Films are a product of their eras, but also a product of all subsequent eras. It's amazing to see how a film can change, evolve, and dither based on shifts in public perception. More than that, how a film with no ill-intentions can trigger feelings and emotions based on personal identity. It just goes to show, sometimes something small and unassuming can reflect something grandiose.
10/08/2013
On Horror
Trying to accurately define the horror genre is like trying to hold a fish. It wriggles and squirms, trying to get free. It's covered in slime, trying to wrestle free from your grip. It's got subtle barbs and spines daring you to squeeze tighter.
Luckily, there's an escape. An escape brought to us by the least likely of all film analysts, US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart.
In the case of Jacobellis v. Ohio, the court was tasked with deciding whether obscenity was a form of free speech. In my own blunt terms, yes (important note: my own blunt terms will not hold up in a court of law. Please consult actual legal advice from a practicing attorney.)
The United States Supreme Court decided obscenity is indeed a form of free speech, protected by the United States Constitution, therefore laws cannot ban or inhibit the action (sadly, this ruling came three months after a string of fines left comedian Lenny Bruce destitute and ruined.)
The exception to this ruling was hard-core pornography, which could still be banned based on any state's respective laws. When pressed about which obscenities constitute hard-core porn, Justice Stewart replied:
"I know it when I see it."
That one little sentence. That beautiful little get-out-of-jail free card. The line every film, television, and video game blogger owes their reputation to, and the thesis of this particular entry.
It's October, so what better time to talk about horror films? But what exactly is a horror film? How can one exactly declare what is and what is not a horror film?
Let's start with the empirical definition from Wikipedia:
"Horror fiction is a genre of media, which is intended to, or has the capacity to frighten its audience, scare or startle viewers/readers by inducing feelings of horror and terror. It creates an eerie and frightening atmosphere."
Well, that's pretty conclusive, isn't it? Horror movies are movies that frighten the viewer.
But what is fear? Isn't fear subjective? Doesn't everybody have one or two irrational phobias? Lots of people will panic when they find a spider, others keep them as pets. Some people are frightened by thunder, some consider it a welcome sign of April. Fear of clowns used to be considered an odd fear, but the phobia has grown exponentially; it's a wonder anybody still associates them with happiness. I knew a girl in college who was absolutely terrified of the Care Bears. Yours truly has an unexplained aversion to flowers.
So what makes something frightening? Further down the Wikipedia page we go:
"Horror films often feature scenes that startle the viewer; the macabre and the supernatural are frequent themes. Thus they may overlap with the fantasy, supernatural, and thriller genres."
That certainly helps: Horror films could include some things, and might easily be confused with other things.
What was that quote I mentioned earlier? "I know it when I see it."
That's right. If you want to identify a horror flick, you can't set up a list of qualifiers and regulations. You just have to look at it, and either accept it or reject it.
Is Silence of the Lambs a horror film? I'd say so. How about Se7en? Sure. Both these films are grounded in reality, and are a departure from the ghosts and boogeymen of other horror flicks, but they still scare. They still frighten.
And what of something like Jurassic Park? I consider that a horror movie as well. It may be a thriller first, but the dinosaurs create a distinct ability to frighten. Being hunted is essentially the same as being chased. And what horror flick doesn't have one or two chase scenes?
How's about Ghostbusters? It's getting into a gray area, but I'd say so. It's a horror-comedy. And what's the first word of horror-comedy? Just because the characters makes light of the subject, it doesn't invalidate the scary atmosphere and storyline.
Then how about Twister? Here's where I draw the line. As mentioned, horror is subjective, but its intent must clearly be demonstrated by the filmmaker. Thrillers often contain moments of peril and danger, but an evocation of the fight or flight response is a standard side-effect of any action/adventure/thriller. So no, it's not a horror film.
I was inspired to make this post after various claims of purported film fans claiming they "don't like scary movies." Don't outright declare your dissatisfaction outright. Horror movies are as wide and varied as comedies and romances. Spooks and spectres are all around the world of film, be they splatterfests, psychlogical, slashers, creature features or gothic romances. You may claim you don't like horror films, but I guaranteee there's one out there you'll enjoy. You'll know it when you see it.
 |
| "Based on the corroborating evidence, the court can conclude, beyond the shadow of a doubt, Deckard was not a replicant." |
The United States Supreme Court decided obscenity is indeed a form of free speech, protected by the United States Constitution, therefore laws cannot ban or inhibit the action (sadly, this ruling came three months after a string of fines left comedian Lenny Bruce destitute and ruined.)
The exception to this ruling was hard-core pornography, which could still be banned based on any state's respective laws. When pressed about which obscenities constitute hard-core porn, Justice Stewart replied:
"I know it when I see it."
That one little sentence. That beautiful little get-out-of-jail free card. The line every film, television, and video game blogger owes their reputation to, and the thesis of this particular entry.
It's October, so what better time to talk about horror films? But what exactly is a horror film? How can one exactly declare what is and what is not a horror film?
Let's start with the empirical definition from Wikipedia:
"Horror fiction is a genre of media, which is intended to, or has the capacity to frighten its audience, scare or startle viewers/readers by inducing feelings of horror and terror. It creates an eerie and frightening atmosphere."
Well, that's pretty conclusive, isn't it? Horror movies are movies that frighten the viewer.
 |
| However feeble the attempt. |
But what is fear? Isn't fear subjective? Doesn't everybody have one or two irrational phobias? Lots of people will panic when they find a spider, others keep them as pets. Some people are frightened by thunder, some consider it a welcome sign of April. Fear of clowns used to be considered an odd fear, but the phobia has grown exponentially; it's a wonder anybody still associates them with happiness. I knew a girl in college who was absolutely terrified of the Care Bears. Yours truly has an unexplained aversion to flowers.
 |
| Oh God, they're getting smarter! |
So what makes something frightening? Further down the Wikipedia page we go:
"Horror films often feature scenes that startle the viewer; the macabre and the supernatural are frequent themes. Thus they may overlap with the fantasy, supernatural, and thriller genres."
That certainly helps: Horror films could include some things, and might easily be confused with other things.
What was that quote I mentioned earlier? "I know it when I see it."
That's right. If you want to identify a horror flick, you can't set up a list of qualifiers and regulations. You just have to look at it, and either accept it or reject it.
Is Silence of the Lambs a horror film? I'd say so. How about Se7en? Sure. Both these films are grounded in reality, and are a departure from the ghosts and boogeymen of other horror flicks, but they still scare. They still frighten.
And what of something like Jurassic Park? I consider that a horror movie as well. It may be a thriller first, but the dinosaurs create a distinct ability to frighten. Being hunted is essentially the same as being chased. And what horror flick doesn't have one or two chase scenes?
How's about Ghostbusters? It's getting into a gray area, but I'd say so. It's a horror-comedy. And what's the first word of horror-comedy? Just because the characters makes light of the subject, it doesn't invalidate the scary atmosphere and storyline.
Then how about Twister? Here's where I draw the line. As mentioned, horror is subjective, but its intent must clearly be demonstrated by the filmmaker. Thrillers often contain moments of peril and danger, but an evocation of the fight or flight response is a standard side-effect of any action/adventure/thriller. So no, it's not a horror film.
I was inspired to make this post after various claims of purported film fans claiming they "don't like scary movies." Don't outright declare your dissatisfaction outright. Horror movies are as wide and varied as comedies and romances. Spooks and spectres are all around the world of film, be they splatterfests, psychlogical, slashers, creature features or gothic romances. You may claim you don't like horror films, but I guaranteee there's one out there you'll enjoy. You'll know it when you see it.
7/17/2013
The Other Oil Companies
When a movie theater shows a movie, they are distributing a product from a company. The ins and the outs are complicated. I suppose I could do the noble thing and actually research how this process works, but I'd rather watch old episodes of Home Improvement on Youtube.
But I understand a modicum of the process. Upon a movie's opening weekend, movie theaters keep somewhere between 20% to 25% of the box office gross. If the movie theater in question is a franchise/chain, that cut of the cash is split between the individual theater and the home office. The other 75% to 80% goes to the distribution house and the production company.
So where do movie theaters compensate for all that unearned revenue?
It's an oft-forgotten fact, movie theaters generate an overwhelming amount of their profit from the sale of concessions. This leads to three truths of movie theater food:
- Movie theater food is expensive.
- Movie theater portions are large.
- Movie theater food is unhealthy.
Let's examine these one at a time.
Movie Theater Food Is Expensive.
Think about your local cineplex. It's a giant complex, equal in size to commercial warehouses and storage facilities, but located in an area where realty prices favors small stores, shops and businesses. There's also the cost of operating high-powered electric projectors and multiple industrial HVAC units. Plus a staff of two dozen hard-working employees, and the added cost of maintenance and facility upkeep. Running a movie theater is an expensive, expensive job.
Normal restaurants price their menus in correlation with operations. Per meal, a restaurant typically charges three times the food cost, thus covering the cost of overhead and labor. Movie theaters are different. Restaurants are a fraction of the size of movie theaters. A busy restaurant will serve 300 people per night. A busy movie theater will have 300 people per auditorium, per show. Everyone at a restaurant will order food. Only 1/3 of people at a movie theater will order food. More profit per head means better returns.
Those large sodas contain less than 25 cents of sugar water. It's almost no real loss if you get a free refill or not. Theaters are getting a 2300% return on investment. It doesn't matter how big the cups are; the only reason they're not bigger is because otherwise they would not fit in the cup holders. If big is too big for you; get a small. If small is too big, are you really thirsty?
This leads us to point number two:
Movie Theater Portions Are Large.
Movie theaters aren't run by heartless bastards. They know you're getting very little bang for your buck on popcorn and soda pop. They try to soften the blow. At my local chain, a "Small" soda is 32 oz, a Medium is 48 oz, and a Large is 52 oz. A large is just a little over a liter and a half. And it comes with a free refill. A large popcorn and Coke clocks in at 2050 calories. The FDA considers 2000 calories a healthy daily average.
Movie theaters anticipate groups, pairings and families attending together. They predict you will divide these gargantuan helpings between several people. Believe it or not, that 16 cup-sized bucket of popcorn is not a single serving. Split the food, split the cost.
Or, if you'd really like, you can eat and drink the larges all by yourself. This leads us to point number three:
Movie Theater Food is Unhealthy.
Contrary to what American waistlines suggest, it is possible to go two hours without eating. The movie theater concession stand was not designed to provide nutritious sustenance for a balanced diet. It's simply there to provide a quick snack should the want arise. Hence why it's colloquially referred to as "The Snack Bar." It is not a restaurant. Stop treating it like a restaurant. Do not tie up the line because you erroneously believe this is an appropriate place to order chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks.
The Department of Health and Human Services requires my local multiplex to list calories next to every menu item. Many are in the quadruple digits. Soda and candy are pure sugar. Popcorn is cooked in oil and salt, then topped with more butter-flavored oil. What led anyone to believe any of this is remotely healthy? These are not meant to be meals. These are meant to be indulgences.
Consider your options. Consider your desires. Consider your health. Consider your wallet.
That's how a cineplex concession stand operates. Hopefully this has been informative and insightful. Now if you'll excuse me, Tim and Al are about to show off the Man's Kitchen.
6/26/2013
It's a Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad Flick
We've all said it. "That's a "Bad" movie." But what do we mean by "Bad?" Bad like Al Capone, or bad like the dog that's scooting on your dining room carpet right now? Waitaminute, do you even have a dog? Go stop him!
Really, a bad movie could be bad for any number of reasons. Breaking it down, I've arrived at the conclusion all bad movies fall into one of six categories. The next time you see a bad movie, try and pinpoint what exactly made it bad, and what could have been fixed to make it better.
1) The Poorly Made Movie
This is a rarity in modern-day filmmaking. The movie industry is bigger than its ever been, and its still growing. Studios don't have to take chances on amateurs anymore. The days of Bert I Gordons and Edward D Woods are gone. Digital filmmaking has opened the world of movie-making to the masses, and everybody trying to break into the industry already has an extensive portfolio. If studios think you're remotely unqualified, they'll replace you with one of the 500 others waiting in the wings. There are no amateurs anymore. Just paid professionals and unpaid professionals.
But therein lies the irony. By opening the door for so many, we left the door open for everybody. People who don't want to learn the necessary skills and techniques. People who thought it looked easy, and assumed it was. People who think White Balance has to with laundry and Lavalier Mic is a French disk jockey. If the filmmakers don't care, why should the audience?
2) The Poorly Conceived Movie
Not every idea is good, but a good idea can come from anywhere. I've seen spectacular movies based on a board game, a theme park ride, sketch-comedy TV, and game shows. I have also seen bad versions of these same exact things.
As the saying goes, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. There are some projects, licenses, and franchises that are doomed to failure. There are also completely original ideas that stink worse than month old roquefort. You could contact the greatest writers, directors, actors and spin doctors, they'd all tell you the same thing: There's just no substance. But the movie gets made anyways.
3) The Boring Movie
However you choose to define movies (entertainment, art, escapism, culture, storytelling, etc.), they are an act of communication. Communication relies on engagement. It relies on captivation. It relies on a listening and responsive audience. And if the audience is busy checking their watch or playing Candy Crush, you've failed.
Movies can be exciting, funny, scary, thought-provoking, fantastical, empathetic, and any number of other things, but they have to be doing something throughout their 90-minute runtime. There's nothing quite as embarrassing as a comedy that doesn't make you laugh, an action film that makes you yawn or a drama that confuses drearieness with seriousness. If you waste the audience's time, they'll let you know.
4) The Unoriginal Movie
Pretend you're a marketing guru with a finger fresh on the pulse of modern society. You know what people want, how they want it, and the fastest way to make a money with it. It's no surprise when Jimmy McMoviemaker wants you to capitalize on the latest fads and interests. So you do. Fast forward to opening night, and... your new project garners a net loss of $35 million. Turns out, everybody preferred your movie when they saw it the first time, several years ago. Suddenly, you're living in a refrigerator box under the freeway next to the guy who invented HitClips.
Trends come and go, but before they do, they die a slow, painful, agonizing death. What may have been cool and popular ten years ago now seems old and stale. If you can't be fresh, be original. If you can't be original, at least be early. Always move forward with the future. If you stay too long in the past, you'll be passed up.
5) The Insulting Movie
People will watch anything, right? Plunk down a couple million bucks, they'll line up like sheep. There's no need to do any research on the film's subject; just reinvent it however you like. It doesn't matter if the characters are internationally renowned, shoehorn in some more accessible character traits. Change the setting away from 1960s Britain to modern-day America. Make the main characters young, thin, attractive, and in love. Cut out just enough of the violence, sex and depravity to earn a PG-13 rating. Have them drinking Dr Pepper. Add a wise-cracking companion and pop songs. And whatever you do, don't follow the book its based on. It doesn't have a happy ending. Besides, most of the potential audience probably haven't read it.
People are not dumb. Actually, that's a lie. But still, people don't like being insulted. Respect the people by respecting the medium. Star Wars: A New Hope was made by a man combining his love of classic westerns with samurai films, adding original elements of fantasy and sci-fi. Star Wars: The Phantom Menace was made by a man with a billion dollar special effects studio and contract obligations to Pepsi, Taco Bell. Lego, Lays, EA Games and Colgate.
6) The Stupid Movie
Let's be honest. If you had to produce a new movie on a shoestring budget, knowing full well you had no hope of ever attracting more than a million individual viewers, would you put lots and lots of effort into scripting, only to have absolutely no return on investment? Or would you just accept the carte blanche challenge, create something completely off-the-wall, and have fun while doing it?
It's the beloved "So-Bad-Its-Good" movie. A movie that defies all laws of logic and sensibility by pretending they never existed in the first place. These movies aren't good because they never tried to be good. They knew damn well what they were, and they embraced the ever-loving hell out of it. Think late-nite horror marathons hosted by comedians. Think SyFy original films. Think independent cinema. The people responsible for these films are either young professionals cutting their teeth, or seasoned professionals who have a psychotic signature style. Either way, they have a happy-go-lucky energy that's apparent after only a few minutes of viewing... unless it's just a happy accident. Trying to make lightning strike twice results in a poorly made or boring film instead of a "so bad it's good." Or in the case of a remake, a poorly conceived movie.
Really, a bad movie could be bad for any number of reasons. Breaking it down, I've arrived at the conclusion all bad movies fall into one of six categories. The next time you see a bad movie, try and pinpoint what exactly made it bad, and what could have been fixed to make it better.
1) The Poorly Made Movie
This is a rarity in modern-day filmmaking. The movie industry is bigger than its ever been, and its still growing. Studios don't have to take chances on amateurs anymore. The days of Bert I Gordons and Edward D Woods are gone. Digital filmmaking has opened the world of movie-making to the masses, and everybody trying to break into the industry already has an extensive portfolio. If studios think you're remotely unqualified, they'll replace you with one of the 500 others waiting in the wings. There are no amateurs anymore. Just paid professionals and unpaid professionals.
 |
| 60 hour weeks. No travel reimbursement. College students only. Must have 10 years experience. Masters degree preferred. This is a non-paying position. |
But therein lies the irony. By opening the door for so many, we left the door open for everybody. People who don't want to learn the necessary skills and techniques. People who thought it looked easy, and assumed it was. People who think White Balance has to with laundry and Lavalier Mic is a French disk jockey. If the filmmakers don't care, why should the audience?
 |
| "Good enough" should not be an aspiration. |
2) The Poorly Conceived Movie
Not every idea is good, but a good idea can come from anywhere. I've seen spectacular movies based on a board game, a theme park ride, sketch-comedy TV, and game shows. I have also seen bad versions of these same exact things.
As the saying goes, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. There are some projects, licenses, and franchises that are doomed to failure. There are also completely original ideas that stink worse than month old roquefort. You could contact the greatest writers, directors, actors and spin doctors, they'd all tell you the same thing: There's just no substance. But the movie gets made anyways.
 |
| At what point did this begin seeming like a bad idea? The answer may surprise you... |
3) The Boring Movie
However you choose to define movies (entertainment, art, escapism, culture, storytelling, etc.), they are an act of communication. Communication relies on engagement. It relies on captivation. It relies on a listening and responsive audience. And if the audience is busy checking their watch or playing Candy Crush, you've failed.
 |
| Pathos be damned, I want more popcorn. That's exciting! |
Movies can be exciting, funny, scary, thought-provoking, fantastical, empathetic, and any number of other things, but they have to be doing something throughout their 90-minute runtime. There's nothing quite as embarrassing as a comedy that doesn't make you laugh, an action film that makes you yawn or a drama that confuses drearieness with seriousness. If you waste the audience's time, they'll let you know.
 |
| Yaaawn..... I said, yaaaaawn! |
4) The Unoriginal Movie
Pretend you're a marketing guru with a finger fresh on the pulse of modern society. You know what people want, how they want it, and the fastest way to make a money with it. It's no surprise when Jimmy McMoviemaker wants you to capitalize on the latest fads and interests. So you do. Fast forward to opening night, and... your new project garners a net loss of $35 million. Turns out, everybody preferred your movie when they saw it the first time, several years ago. Suddenly, you're living in a refrigerator box under the freeway next to the guy who invented HitClips.
 |
| Wow! An entire minute of low-fidelity pop music! |
Trends come and go, but before they do, they die a slow, painful, agonizing death. What may have been cool and popular ten years ago now seems old and stale. If you can't be fresh, be original. If you can't be original, at least be early. Always move forward with the future. If you stay too long in the past, you'll be passed up.
 |
| Here's a freebie: This genre is dead. Move on. |
5) The Insulting Movie
People will watch anything, right? Plunk down a couple million bucks, they'll line up like sheep. There's no need to do any research on the film's subject; just reinvent it however you like. It doesn't matter if the characters are internationally renowned, shoehorn in some more accessible character traits. Change the setting away from 1960s Britain to modern-day America. Make the main characters young, thin, attractive, and in love. Cut out just enough of the violence, sex and depravity to earn a PG-13 rating. Have them drinking Dr Pepper. Add a wise-cracking companion and pop songs. And whatever you do, don't follow the book its based on. It doesn't have a happy ending. Besides, most of the potential audience probably haven't read it.
 |
| Dictated, not read. |
People are not dumb. Actually, that's a lie. But still, people don't like being insulted. Respect the people by respecting the medium. Star Wars: A New Hope was made by a man combining his love of classic westerns with samurai films, adding original elements of fantasy and sci-fi. Star Wars: The Phantom Menace was made by a man with a billion dollar special effects studio and contract obligations to Pepsi, Taco Bell. Lego, Lays, EA Games and Colgate.
 |
| You think I'm joking about this? |
6) The Stupid Movie
Let's be honest. If you had to produce a new movie on a shoestring budget, knowing full well you had no hope of ever attracting more than a million individual viewers, would you put lots and lots of effort into scripting, only to have absolutely no return on investment? Or would you just accept the carte blanche challenge, create something completely off-the-wall, and have fun while doing it?
 |
| Chichen Itza is not in the Grand Canyon. |
It's the beloved "So-Bad-Its-Good" movie. A movie that defies all laws of logic and sensibility by pretending they never existed in the first place. These movies aren't good because they never tried to be good. They knew damn well what they were, and they embraced the ever-loving hell out of it. Think late-nite horror marathons hosted by comedians. Think SyFy original films. Think independent cinema. The people responsible for these films are either young professionals cutting their teeth, or seasoned professionals who have a psychotic signature style. Either way, they have a happy-go-lucky energy that's apparent after only a few minutes of viewing... unless it's just a happy accident. Trying to make lightning strike twice results in a poorly made or boring film instead of a "so bad it's good." Or in the case of a remake, a poorly conceived movie.
 |
| It's not too late to scrap production. Get out while you still can. |
3/06/2013
My Favorite Film and 99 Runners-Up
Everybody has a favorite film. Some people have ten favorite films. Some people flesh out their list to a full hundred. How and why people choose their favorite film is subjective. Some choose a film of important personal significance or inspiration. Some choose a film of extremely high regard to impress other people. Some pick the movie they could watch over and over again. But in the end, a person's favorite movie is more indicative than they may realize.
This is my story.
I grew up on a steady diet of cartoons and sitcoms. From my first day of kindergarten, I set out to be a comedian. The jokester. Mister funny man. I thought making somebody laugh was the surest way to make them like you
As I aged, my tastes didn't necessarily refine, but grew to encompass most everything. I was like the Blob, I just wanted to consume everything in my path. Unfortunately, I had the tragic misfortune of
A) Being a minor,
B) Living in suburban Missouri and
C) Having conservative parents. My mother and father had a strict kibosh on anything they deemed too racy, too violent, too inappropriate, too raunchy, or too controversial. I wasn't allowed to watch The Simpsons from seasons four through ten. My father overheard Bart relentlessly chanting the word "Bastard," and banned the series from our house. That was the freaking golden-age of The Simpsons. I'm still mad about this.
At about age 13 or 14, my parents either lifted the ban or stopped caring enough to enforce it. We didn't have cable, so they didn't feel it necessary to censor any of my TV-watching; there was nothing too inappropriate on broadcast television.
In early 2000, there was an advertisement for a TV show. It looked funny, and I wanted to watch it. It was that simple. I didn't know who was responsible for creating it, any of the actors appearing in it, or even the background that led to its fruition. I just knew the TV show from a brief 30-second promo. I watched it. Low and behold, if it wasn't the single-funniest 30 minutes of my life, it was damn close. I tuned in next week, and it was even funnier.
And then it was cancelled.
After a mere two episodes, the TV show that changed my life was cast into the garbage by ABC to make room for more episodes of Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
This show was Clerks: The Animated Series.
As mentioned, at this point of my life, I was trying to experience as much media as possible in any form. The internet was still in the days of dial-up, so it was no help there. I could spend an evening downloading a single song from Napster if my parents didn't need to use the phone, or I could spend 22 bucks on a new album. Hard copy media was still the name of the game. Sam Goody, Funcoland, Wherehouse Music and Best Buy were my homes away from home (That's right, Best Buy. That's where you stand.)
But the king among kings was Blockbuster Video. You remember Blockbuster, right? For five bucks, you could leave your home to pick a movie from a limited library, take it home for three days, (assuming nobody else took the single copy of the movie first) then leave your home again to return it.
The one advantage Blockbuster and other video rental outlets had over modern internet streaming services was the ability to browse. You could instantly see hundreds of video boxes, all right next to each other. If you couldn't find something you wanted, you could look at everything else, maybe finding a diamond in the rough. Maybe finding something else entirely. Something serendipitous.
This is my story.
I grew up on a steady diet of cartoons and sitcoms. From my first day of kindergarten, I set out to be a comedian. The jokester. Mister funny man. I thought making somebody laugh was the surest way to make them like you
As I aged, my tastes didn't necessarily refine, but grew to encompass most everything. I was like the Blob, I just wanted to consume everything in my path. Unfortunately, I had the tragic misfortune of
A) Being a minor,
B) Living in suburban Missouri and
C) Having conservative parents. My mother and father had a strict kibosh on anything they deemed too racy, too violent, too inappropriate, too raunchy, or too controversial. I wasn't allowed to watch The Simpsons from seasons four through ten. My father overheard Bart relentlessly chanting the word "Bastard," and banned the series from our house. That was the freaking golden-age of The Simpsons. I'm still mad about this.
Come to think of it, my dad was a pretty ardent Bush supporter...
At about age 13 or 14, my parents either lifted the ban or stopped caring enough to enforce it. We didn't have cable, so they didn't feel it necessary to censor any of my TV-watching; there was nothing too inappropriate on broadcast television.
In early 2000, there was an advertisement for a TV show. It looked funny, and I wanted to watch it. It was that simple. I didn't know who was responsible for creating it, any of the actors appearing in it, or even the background that led to its fruition. I just knew the TV show from a brief 30-second promo. I watched it. Low and behold, if it wasn't the single-funniest 30 minutes of my life, it was damn close. I tuned in next week, and it was even funnier.
And then it was cancelled.
After a mere two episodes, the TV show that changed my life was cast into the garbage by ABC to make room for more episodes of Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
This show was Clerks: The Animated Series.
This two minute scene was funnier than the final three seasons of The Drew Carey Show.
As mentioned, at this point of my life, I was trying to experience as much media as possible in any form. The internet was still in the days of dial-up, so it was no help there. I could spend an evening downloading a single song from Napster if my parents didn't need to use the phone, or I could spend 22 bucks on a new album. Hard copy media was still the name of the game. Sam Goody, Funcoland, Wherehouse Music and Best Buy were my homes away from home (That's right, Best Buy. That's where you stand.)
But the king among kings was Blockbuster Video. You remember Blockbuster, right? For five bucks, you could leave your home to pick a movie from a limited library, take it home for three days, (assuming nobody else took the single copy of the movie first) then leave your home again to return it.
9000 my ass. Also, a director from Amsterdam wouldn't use this many Dutch angles.
The one advantage Blockbuster and other video rental outlets had over modern internet streaming services was the ability to browse. You could instantly see hundreds of video boxes, all right next to each other. If you couldn't find something you wanted, you could look at everything else, maybe finding a diamond in the rough. Maybe finding something else entirely. Something serendipitous.
2/25/2013
My God, It's Full of Stars
5 Star Movies
Skyfall
Hugo
How to Train Your Dragon
Star Trek
Burn After Reading
Zodiac
Borat
Batman Begins
Collateral
Pirates of the Caribbean
4 Star Movies
Wreck-It Ralph
The Muppets
Jackass 3D
Adventureland
In Bruges
300
Paprika
War of the Worlds
Saw
Holes
3 Star Movies
Chronicle
Sucker Punch
The Last Exorcism
Watchmen
Tropic Thunder
Charlie Wilson's War
Night at the Museum
Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire
National Treasure
Paycheck
2 Star Movies
Prometheus
Source Code
Cop Out
9
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Ghost Rider
The Da Vinci Code
Corpse Bride
Garden State
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
1 Star Movies
Dark Shadows
Tower Heist
Jonah Hex
The Soloist
Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay
Smokin' Aces
Poseidon
Red Eye
The Stepford Wives
Hulk
Skyfall
Hugo
How to Train Your Dragon
Star Trek
Burn After Reading
Zodiac
Borat
Batman Begins
Collateral
Pirates of the Caribbean
4 Star Movies
Wreck-It Ralph
The Muppets
Jackass 3D
Adventureland
In Bruges
300
Paprika
War of the Worlds
Saw
Holes
3 Star Movies
Chronicle
Sucker Punch
The Last Exorcism
Watchmen
Tropic Thunder
Charlie Wilson's War
Night at the Museum
Harry Potter & The Goblet of Fire
National Treasure
Paycheck
2 Star Movies
Prometheus
Source Code
Cop Out
9
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Ghost Rider
The Da Vinci Code
Corpse Bride
Garden State
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
1 Star Movies
Dark Shadows
Tower Heist
Jonah Hex
The Soloist
Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay
Smokin' Aces
Poseidon
Red Eye
The Stepford Wives
Hulk
8/02/2012
R You Serious?
The MPAA, despite all its missteps, has done one thing very well: It has kept film as a business, as an art, and as an entertainment medium out of the hands of the government.
In the 1930's, The Hays Code went into effect in order to keep film deregulated. Essentially, The Hays Code was a strict ban on material that could be deemed offensive to the potential audience, including sex, drug use, foul language, and any form of racism (quite progressive, given the era.)
But times change, and begrudgingly, so does protocol. In the 1960s, the comically outdated Hays Code was phased out in favor of the MPAA rating system, allowing for more controversial material to a willing, receptive, and most important, appropriate audience.
The rating system has changed a bunch since then, but one thing has remained constant: The R-Rating has restricted content from those under the age of 17.
Why? Because. The MPAA rating system exists to warn and alert parents of questionable content. It's censorship, but it's self-censorship. The MPAA and the National Association of Theater Owners both agree this is the best possible policy. If this was not the case, the government would intervene, and force mandatory regulation. Don't believe me? Look at TV. Look at radio. The FCC's got its tentacles all over them, and they'll never break free.
Now let me be clear. I don't agree with censorship. But it's a necessary evil. No matter how much I bitch and moan and whine and complain, Prudence Dogood and the Lady's Auxillary of Smallburg, USA will raise a much bigger fuss. They have to do something while their casseroles are in the oven. If we restrict admission to vulgar, racy and violent films, we can literally say 'We have done everything we can.' The children are safe, and sheltered children make the best adults (it's a self-perpetuating fallacy).
Movies are not being censored. They are not being altered. They are not being butchered or outlawed. They are simply being dangled above the head of high school sophomores.
If you don't like it, make your voice heard. Not at theater, of course. There's nothing the box office clerk can do about it except you you a look of dismay. And don't rebel either. I speak from experience, there is nothing a theater usher likes better than kicking a 14 year-old out of 'Fart Academy 5.'
I mean it. If you ever scream at a box-office clerk over a 40 year-old, nationwide ordinance, you deserve to have your Friday night ruined. Go ice skating or something. You also deserve to have your tires slashed and your mailbox knocked over, but I have no power over that (mechanics and mailmen of America, let's make a deal...)
No, make it clear that the content of R-Rated movies is a non-issue that doesn't require an enforceable rule. That you could care less if your sixteen year-old daughter saw a provocative social drama about heroin and AIDS. That your freshman son is certainly mature enough to handle a movie about three stoners who befriend a gorilla and teach it to smoke. That if your kids are old enough to drive themselves to the theater and pay with their own credit cards, they should see a bunch of Martians ruthlessly shoot up a stranded batallion of space marines if they so desire.
Protocol has changed before to reflect a changing audience. The MPAA and NATO needs to know its time to change again.
In the 1930's, The Hays Code went into effect in order to keep film deregulated. Essentially, The Hays Code was a strict ban on material that could be deemed offensive to the potential audience, including sex, drug use, foul language, and any form of racism (quite progressive, given the era.)
 |
| Before and After The Hays Code. Ruining the lives of shoulder fetishists everywhere. |
But times change, and begrudgingly, so does protocol. In the 1960s, the comically outdated Hays Code was phased out in favor of the MPAA rating system, allowing for more controversial material to a willing, receptive, and most important, appropriate audience.
The rating system has changed a bunch since then, but one thing has remained constant: The R-Rating has restricted content from those under the age of 17.
Why? Because. The MPAA rating system exists to warn and alert parents of questionable content. It's censorship, but it's self-censorship. The MPAA and the National Association of Theater Owners both agree this is the best possible policy. If this was not the case, the government would intervene, and force mandatory regulation. Don't believe me? Look at TV. Look at radio. The FCC's got its tentacles all over them, and they'll never break free.
 |
| National Association of Theater Owners. Good thing nobody else has that acronym. |
Now let me be clear. I don't agree with censorship. But it's a necessary evil. No matter how much I bitch and moan and whine and complain, Prudence Dogood and the Lady's Auxillary of Smallburg, USA will raise a much bigger fuss. They have to do something while their casseroles are in the oven. If we restrict admission to vulgar, racy and violent films, we can literally say 'We have done everything we can.' The children are safe, and sheltered children make the best adults (it's a self-perpetuating fallacy).
 |
If you don't like it, make your voice heard. Not at theater, of course. There's nothing the box office clerk can do about it except you you a look of dismay. And don't rebel either. I speak from experience, there is nothing a theater usher likes better than kicking a 14 year-old out of 'Fart Academy 5.'
 |
| You're just going to do this anyways. Can't you do it in the new Dreamworks movie? |
I mean it. If you ever scream at a box-office clerk over a 40 year-old, nationwide ordinance, you deserve to have your Friday night ruined. Go ice skating or something. You also deserve to have your tires slashed and your mailbox knocked over, but I have no power over that (mechanics and mailmen of America, let's make a deal...)
No, make it clear that the content of R-Rated movies is a non-issue that doesn't require an enforceable rule. That you could care less if your sixteen year-old daughter saw a provocative social drama about heroin and AIDS. That your freshman son is certainly mature enough to handle a movie about three stoners who befriend a gorilla and teach it to smoke. That if your kids are old enough to drive themselves to the theater and pay with their own credit cards, they should see a bunch of Martians ruthlessly shoot up a stranded batallion of space marines if they so desire.
Protocol has changed before to reflect a changing audience. The MPAA and NATO needs to know its time to change again.
7/02/2012
The 2012 Halftime Report
2012, come in. Please, have a seat. Get comfy. Can I get you something to drink?
First let me clear. You're not in trouble. If you were, we wouldn't be meeting on such friendly terms. However, we do need to talk about your performance. You see, back around October of last year, we were all very very eager to have you. You had a number of great releases lined up, and we were all waiting on tenterhooks.You were going to be the biggest thing to happen to movies since 2007.
But then... you choked.
You had everything you needed, and you choked.
Let me drop this interview motif like the mockumentary structure in District 9. When I rank movies, I rank them on a scale of 1 to 5. Five being a perfectly constructed film, and One being an insult to the audience. For those who can't math, three falls right in the middle. I reserve threes for films that make no real impression. Stuff I forget immediately after leaving the theater. Stuff that has no real flaws, but no redeeming factors either. I have never had to use so many three star rankings as I have this year.
Practically everything I was anticipating being a knockout punch has been just average. The Spider-Man reboot, Prometheus, Seeking a Friend for the End of This Really Long Title, The Five-Year Engagement, John Carter, Pirates: Band of Misfits, both of the postmodern Snow White movies. All average, three star efforts.
Hell, even Pixar and Studio Ghibli. Two movie-making institutions renowned for their pursuit of excellence. Six stars between them.
Meanwhile, everything I was anticipating being just average has been dumb dumb dumb. Men In Black III: The Search for More Money, Dark Shadows, Silent House. I got into all of them for free, I still feel like I was ripped off.
2012 is not going down as being a great year for movies. That ship has sailed. But, it's not too late to cut your losses. 2012 hasn't batted a complete .000, The Avengers and Cabin in the Woods were both phenomenal. As for The Hunger Games, while I won't consider it among the greatest of sci-fi films, I will admit it was very very good.
In addition, everyone knows the first half of a year is the bad half of the movie-going year. The movie-going year is divided into four parts:
1) January - March: Crap. Studios are focusing on awards season. A whole bunch of low-effort junk comes out because it saves mad duckets on marketing.
2) April - July: Summer blockbuster season. every studio has one or two big BIG movies, and a bunch of flashy stuff that they're hoping will get decent returns before word of mouth causes a total lack of disinterest.
3) August - October: Risky ventures and unconventional pics. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Lots of diamonds in the rough, but mostly just rough.
4) November - December: Oscar bait, family films and any Summer Blockbuster that had problems in post.
So, maybe the mediocre first half of 2012 will be swept under the rug by a phenomenal second half. We can only hope.
First let me clear. You're not in trouble. If you were, we wouldn't be meeting on such friendly terms. However, we do need to talk about your performance. You see, back around October of last year, we were all very very eager to have you. You had a number of great releases lined up, and we were all waiting on tenterhooks.You were going to be the biggest thing to happen to movies since 2007.
But then... you choked.
You had everything you needed, and you choked.
Let me drop this interview motif like the mockumentary structure in District 9. When I rank movies, I rank them on a scale of 1 to 5. Five being a perfectly constructed film, and One being an insult to the audience. For those who can't math, three falls right in the middle. I reserve threes for films that make no real impression. Stuff I forget immediately after leaving the theater. Stuff that has no real flaws, but no redeeming factors either. I have never had to use so many three star rankings as I have this year.
Practically everything I was anticipating being a knockout punch has been just average. The Spider-Man reboot, Prometheus, Seeking a Friend for the End of This Really Long Title, The Five-Year Engagement, John Carter, Pirates: Band of Misfits, both of the postmodern Snow White movies. All average, three star efforts.
Hell, even Pixar and Studio Ghibli. Two movie-making institutions renowned for their pursuit of excellence. Six stars between them.
Meanwhile, everything I was anticipating being just average has been dumb dumb dumb. Men In Black III: The Search for More Money, Dark Shadows, Silent House. I got into all of them for free, I still feel like I was ripped off.
2012 is not going down as being a great year for movies. That ship has sailed. But, it's not too late to cut your losses. 2012 hasn't batted a complete .000, The Avengers and Cabin in the Woods were both phenomenal. As for The Hunger Games, while I won't consider it among the greatest of sci-fi films, I will admit it was very very good.
 |
| Fangirls are no less annoying regardless if their obsession has any worth. |
In addition, everyone knows the first half of a year is the bad half of the movie-going year. The movie-going year is divided into four parts:
1) January - March: Crap. Studios are focusing on awards season. A whole bunch of low-effort junk comes out because it saves mad duckets on marketing.
2) April - July: Summer blockbuster season. every studio has one or two big BIG movies, and a bunch of flashy stuff that they're hoping will get decent returns before word of mouth causes a total lack of disinterest.
3) August - October: Risky ventures and unconventional pics. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Lots of diamonds in the rough, but mostly just rough.
4) November - December: Oscar bait, family films and any Summer Blockbuster that had problems in post.
So, maybe the mediocre first half of 2012 will be swept under the rug by a phenomenal second half. We can only hope.
1/10/2012
Domo Arigato
Robot classification is difficult. The nerds on Wikipedia haven't made researching the subject any easier.Robots: A catch-all term for synthetic lifeforms, usually metallic, mechanic and computerized.
Android: Any robot designed and programmed to look and act human (to varying degrees).
Cyborg: Cybernetic Organism. Any biological creature (usually human) who has been augmented or enhanced by robotic limbs, organs or other technological processes. A half-man, half-machine (not usually in that ratio).
AI Computer Systems: A computer operating system with artificial intelligence. Unlike normal computer systems, AICSes do not require input from a user, and may even reject such interactions. Having an individual thought process, personality, and perfectly capable of interacting with others, AICSes are hindered by not having a motile body, but can compensate by operating robotic arms or other movable objects within their systems.
Biorobotics: A special designation for robots, halfway between Android and Cyborg. Biorobotics, or Bioroids, are machinations designed to completely replicate human beings from a mechanical, physical and even chemical standpoint. The purpose is to create an actual human being from synthetic parts; to create an illusion so precise, any onlooker would be unaware of the robot's artificiality. To play God.
9/25/2011
I, Maximus
I'd like to rescind one of my philosophies concerning the modern 
Hollywood era. I recently saw the movie Contagion. And by recently, I mean last Tuesday. I am too damn lazy to run a film blog.
Anyways, I saw Contagion in Imax. Aside from science documentaries at the St. Louis Science Center Omnimax Theater (All rights reserved), I'd only ever seen two films in Imax; The Imaginarium of Dr. Convoluted Name and Harry Potter Part 7 Part 2. Both were in 3D. (I may not have the drive to run a successful film blog, but I have the cynical part perfected.)
My opinions of the films notwithstanding, I didn't care for either movie's presentation. 3D is a gimmick. I don't care how much hype you thrust in my general direction, I don't want to pay an extra six dollars just to see a background that is relatively recessed. Plus, everything looks dark and the peripheries are all shadowy.
But Contagion was not 3D. It was glorious 2D. Height and width. It made all the difference. The picture was clear, crisp, and detailed. I could see grain in wood, cracks in concrete, sweat beading on characters' foreheads. Imax does indeed provide a high-quality resolution of digital presentations, but I've never known it. I'd never seen it. Hollywood has been piling on gimmick after gimmick onto blockbuster films like six year-olds piling on toppings at a sundae bar. I've spent so much time raging about the candy corn and gummi worms, I've missed just how awesome the Oreo crumbles are.
Contagion was an intense and harrowing ride, made all the more powerful by its Imax presentation. I don't know if it's worth an additional five dollars, but Imax is certainly worth a look. A 2d look.
Hollywood era. I recently saw the movie Contagion. And by recently, I mean last Tuesday. I am too damn lazy to run a film blog.Anyways, I saw Contagion in Imax. Aside from science documentaries at the St. Louis Science Center Omnimax Theater (All rights reserved), I'd only ever seen two films in Imax; The Imaginarium of Dr. Convoluted Name and Harry Potter Part 7 Part 2. Both were in 3D. (I may not have the drive to run a successful film blog, but I have the cynical part perfected.)
My opinions of the films notwithstanding, I didn't care for either movie's presentation. 3D is a gimmick. I don't care how much hype you thrust in my general direction, I don't want to pay an extra six dollars just to see a background that is relatively recessed. Plus, everything looks dark and the peripheries are all shadowy.
But Contagion was not 3D. It was glorious 2D. Height and width. It made all the difference. The picture was clear, crisp, and detailed. I could see grain in wood, cracks in concrete, sweat beading on characters' foreheads. Imax does indeed provide a high-quality resolution of digital presentations, but I've never known it. I'd never seen it. Hollywood has been piling on gimmick after gimmick onto blockbuster films like six year-olds piling on toppings at a sundae bar. I've spent so much time raging about the candy corn and gummi worms, I've missed just how awesome the Oreo crumbles are.Contagion was an intense and harrowing ride, made all the more powerful by its Imax presentation. I don't know if it's worth an additional five dollars, but Imax is certainly worth a look. A 2d look.
12/26/2010
The Baumbach/Raimi Dichotomy
Every film fan at one point or another has attempted to compile a list of favorite comedies. And every single time, nobody amasses more than forty films without getting disgusted at themselves. At a certain point, everybody begins to doubt their own tastes and preferences, or begins to second-guess their instincts. They begin making observations like, "Why do I have Arsenic and Old Lace two points behind Jackass 2?" or, "I haven't even seen What About Bob? in fifteen years, and I don't remember any of it."It's not a coincidence; this happens to everybody. It's the direct result of the Baumbach/Raimi Dichotomy. The film rule that comedies cannot be objectively compared to each other.
Let me explain:
Sam Raimi makes films that are funny, which are not comedies.
Noah Baumbach makes comedies, but they are not funny.
Raimi employs heavy black humor, over-the-top acting and ridiculous situations, but ultimately stay in the horror/thriller genre.
Baumbach makes slice-of-life dramadies more akin to the ancient Greek definition of comedy, providing uplifting lighthearted tales rather than belly-laughs. There are humorous instances, but none that provoke belly-laughs or actual guffaws.
Comedy is not a fair or accurate word. The spectrum is too broad, too grand, too all-encompassing to accurately define a film. It could mean any number of things, and does mean any number of things. The word can be used to describe both Noah Baumbach and Sam Raimi's works, but the two filmmaker's catalogues could not be any more different.
The real irony is, neither are truly representative of the modern definition of comedy.
3/04/2010
I'm Back, Baby
I'm trying blogging again. My fatal flaw last time was forgetting two very important things aspects of my character: 1) repetition bores me 2) commitments suck the fun out of everything.
So gone are the daily posts honoring cinema's greatest characters. I'm starting anew. Fresh ideas. Fresh updates. I'll update whenever I have something important to say. And I've got important stuff to say, believe me.
So gone are the daily posts honoring cinema's greatest characters. I'm starting anew. Fresh ideas. Fresh updates. I'll update whenever I have something important to say. And I've got important stuff to say, believe me.
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