Director Blog - In Dude I Trust

Forgive me, Father Klobs, for I have sinned.
Until now, I had never actually seen The Big Lebowski in its entirety.

Ahem.

My brothers and sisters in the church of film. It is with a repentant heart that I come before you today, in this temple of internet bloggery, to speak openly of my sin, in the hope that I may lead other lost souls back into the fold.

As I began the spiritual process known amongst believers as the "fourth quarter director blog post", I studied the Assignment Sheet. In my meditations, I came across a passage in the book of Film Suggestions, the first chapter. As I read, I paused over a verse that, unknown to me, would change my life forever. The specific verse, in its original language, is:

The Big Lebowski (1998)

A rough English translation of this is:

The Big Lebowski (1998)

I made a note of it in my mind, but nothing more. As the days wore on, I began to feel a growing sense of urgency. The only explanation for my tension was this: I was being compelled by the Holy GradeQuick. Yes! Yes! It sounds impossible, even blasphemous, but I am confidant that only a command from above could have caused me such vexation.

At a moment of paralyzing anxiety, the holy verse came back to me. I pursued the origins of the text, tracing its history through at the Wikipedian Library, in the province Wikipeda. Once I felt familiar with the historical context of the verse, I sought out a copy of the video lecture referenced in the verse. Having obtained one, I proceeded with the traditional rituals: popping of corn, preparation of sugary libations. Upon the completion of the process, I began the lecture, partaking in the popped corn and consuming the droughts in honor of our Lord, Ar-Tof 'ilm.

As I watched,
I was overcome by awe.
My heart was opened,
And the Dude walked in.

Once again, the Prophets Coen had delivered truth and justice to the world, doing so with the holy tools given them by the film reel in the sky.

The Prophets used techniques relied upon in their previous ordeals as a source of humor. The Coen brothers employed whimsical slapstick and fantastical music for scenes such as the Bowling Vision, in which the Dude's frightening subconscious is played before our eyes, preserved here. This technique had been wielded in several other verses, such as the dream sequences in Raising Arizona, preserved here. The humorous aspects of this verse are in line with previous proclamations. The dry wit and uncompromising characters can be seen in O Brother Where Art Thou, The Ladykillers, Raising Arizona, and Fargo.

Therefore, the wit and humor shown in the Dude's verse are kin to that of the Prophets' other teachings.

The setting, too, has also been important to the brothers in years gone past. Fargo, Raising Arizona, The Ladykillers, and No Country for Old Men had significant settings, with the location playing as much a role in the plot as the characters. This, too, is shown in The Big Lebowski, as Los Angeles was portrayed as a nest for lazy, burnt-out bums. The choice of location was deliberate, as told by the Prophets themselves here.

The last telling sign of the Brothers' holy touch is the care put into each scene. Even when the characters are meant to be incapacitated by impure drink and incense, the frame is deliberate, the lighting controlled, and the pace impeccable. The tell-tale sign of the Coens involvement is the absolute lack of any irritant in the shot.

Peace.
Amen.

Super Coen Bros

The Coen brothers are perhaps the most art-devoted directors on the planet. I'm not referring to a style, method, or theme in their work. I mean to say that they seem to view their films as art, more so than any director I can think of.

I barely know what I'm trying to get across. Instead of saying what they are or aren't, I'll give you examples of people they are similar to. Remember the writer in The Player, who trumpeted the raw "reality" of his script? The Coen brothers are like that, but without the cliches, starving artist martyrdom, and the willingness to sell out for success. I don't think they ever needed to compromise their vision at all. You know the snobby elitists, whether in music, art, or film? Same thing again. They seem a little less arrogant, though they might just be more secure in their superiority.

Alright, that was getting nowhere and doing it slowly. I'll try to spit it out.
The Coen brothers are talented writer/directors with nearly prefect technical skills. They plan every aspect of their movies, part of their obsession with perfection. Every scene is storyboarded. They learn and experiment, as shown in their progression from Fargo to No Country for Old Men, two movies with similar themes but very different technical quality.

They are very, very good.

Their only panned movies were The Ladykillers and Intolerable Cruelty. The Ladykillers was a remake of a 1955 version. I saw it in theaters years ago, and enjoyed it. I was at most 14, but I considered it a decent movie. From reading reviews of it, the general opinion was that the Coen brothers had been too faithful to the original, which restricted their ability to put their mark on it. Intolerable Cruelty I have also seen, and was neither impressed nor outraged. It is on par with most romantic comedies. As a genre so foreign to the Coen brothers previous work, I can't really fault them. If anything, I'd give them a little credit for taking on these two movies. The first restricted their choices but set the bar high. The second forced them to play an entirely different kind of game than they'd been used to, putting them in unfamiliar territory. Not long ago, I was critical of Altman for never taking chances or expanding his repertoire. The Coen brothers are doing the opposite, attempting unfamiliar projects and films with little chance of success.

The Coen brothers are undeniably talented and successful, but they have also shown interest and ability in a wider range of genres than most directors dare to experiment with.

Adding to the interest is their fairly hush hush approach to their films. They make a film, release it, and move on. In my mind, I see them wrap up production, send off the film, and sit down to work on the next script. A few weeks later, maybe the TV is on as they lounge around, tossing ideas back and forth. A film critic comes on, and the brothers pause for a minute. At the end of the review, in which the critic was unsure of the message or theme the film was driving at, the brothers grin and return to their thoughts.

When asked about the underlying meaning of a film, the Coen brothers have been notoriously closed mouthed. Perhaps they don't answer because the audience's ability to discover the message isn't very important to the film's creators. Judging from their large number and wide spread of films, it could be that they make the films for themselves, because they are film creators and they enjoy it. The hidden art or truth in the films is a little secret, put their for the sake of creating art.

That is what I was trying to get across the first time. The Coen brothers could be called true artists, creating their art for themselves and for the sake of the art. We are truly an audience, bearing witness to their without ever understanding it. Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll throw us a bone.

Either way, if we keep getting work on par with their performance so far, I'm happy just watching.

re: Bobby

Ah, Robert Altman. Good ol' Bobbo. Bobcat. Bert. Stalling for time is a terrible tactic in a blog post.

Robert Altman's work has a very distinctive style. Large casts, overlapping dialogue, and criticism of modern society are the three most prominent traits in his films. They are what give his films that unique "Altman" feel. When one of his films was successful at the box-office, it was because of that style. On the other hand, he had plenty of flops for the same reason; Altman's style seems to alienate audiences as often as it snares them. Why? That's a tricky question. You could make the case that the sprawling casts and layered dialogue added an air of reality to films like Nashville and The Long Goodbye, supporting his criticism, while the strange style discomforted audiences in his other films. I'm not going to bother backing that up since it doesn't matter for this post. The only thing that we need to agree on is that he used the same style in most of his films.

Next thing we need to establish is the popularity of his various films. I could look up box-office numbers for each film, adjust for inflation, and get more empirical data. That would be silly and ridiculous. Instead, I took a trip to IMDB.com and found this page, which conveniently lists the ratings of his movies. Those numbers will be a bit skewed because they represent the views of people who are interested enough to look up a movie and submit a rating. Even so, you can see that the ratings are spread evenly between about 5 to 8. Now glance at the dates - also evenly spread. The ratings seem to show that there wasn't a trend in the quality of his work, with as many good films and bad films spread evenly through his career.

To summarize, Robert Altman's filming style was fairly static throughout his career, and the reaction to his work was random. Here's what I conclude: he stuck to a style and rolled the dice with every project. He may not have thought of it that way, but that's what it comes down to. I hate to criticize a dead guy, especially one with years more experience in directing than I have in breathing, but that is a terrible way of doing anything. It's like putting all your money in the same slot machine because it paid off a few times last week.

In The Player, a film-writer insists on portraying "reality" before he sells out when the film flops. I interpreted this as Altman simultaneously criticizing Hollywood while defending his style of directing. While he does make a point, Altman's films aren't very "real" either - they're stylized. He isn't sticking up for realism or artistic integrity - he's just stubborn and defensive. Rather than experiment and grow, he planted his feet firmly in the ground and glared at the rest of the industry.

I loved The Long Goodbye. Nashville was striking. The Player was clever. But they don't reflect Robert Altman's talent - they reflect a few gems in an otherwise unremarkable pile of untouched potential.

Akira Kurasawa

I was tempted to do imagine a Kurasawa version of Highlander, but that would be too easy. Just add extra decapitations, dismemberments, and gallons of blood.

Instead, let's look at how much he does with colors and lighting. I'll start with Stray Dog. Here we have light, gray tones that emphasize the heat. It's black and white, so he can't do much with color, but the rough grays almost seem to give it a dusty orange color. The lighting and composition are so well controlled that you can forget that it is all in black and white.

Next, there's Yojimbo. Kurasawa controls the lighting and composition well again, but he puts much more emphasis on contrasting the black and white in the frame rather than pushing a lot of gray. For example, the shots that take place in the hut while Sanjuro is recovering have a lot of contrast between shadows and small strips of light. In fact, it seems like the light in those shots are shadows cast by the darkness. Those darker shots set the tone and intensity as the film stops making jokes and heads toward the conclusion.

Finally, we've got Ran. Ran had color. Color is good. Kurasawa made good use of color in several ways. The dynamics of the battle scenes were organized and clarified by giving the different sides their own colors. That simplified what would have been chaotic shots. He also used color to set the mood. In the beginning of the movie, the entire landscape is green and blue; nice, calm, bright colors. In the last scene, the entire landscape is this dull orange, lit up by a sunset at the horizon. The shot gives us a sense of a somber conflict.

Basically, Kurasawa did a fantastic job using colors and lighting in his movies. They set the tone and organized the composition of the shots.

Alfred Hitchcock

I've recently discovered a trick through which you can detail the aspects of a director/auteur: imagine if they had created Highlander.

Now, Hitchcock didn't do much in the way of science fiction or supernatural powers, so that bit would need to be cut. Next, the main character would have to be lost, in over his head, and on the run from the law - a traditional Hitchcock hero. Let's throw in a blond femme-fatale and a convoluted plot for good measure.

Here's the story I've come up with:

Connor MacLeod wakes up in a small town hospital with no memory. Over the next few days, he is attacked by strange swordsmen and finds articles in the newspaper that describe him as an escaped murder suspect. Along the way are references to a mysterious "prize", a blond woman who needs his help, and an obsession with finding the witness named in the newspapers. The twist is that he is that witness, and the woman who "needed his help" was the real suspect. The people hunting him are playing a twisted game, and he's their prey. At the very end, he explains all this to a cop who is secretly holding a sword.

The plot has the second twist, the classic femme-fatale, the "wrong man", and the dark tone common in Hitchcock's films. There is no real physical confrontation, just the threat of one. To fit Hitchcock's style, big events would be shown indirectly through shots of the newspaper. I've included the conspiracy from 39 Steps, the minor betrayal from Vertigo, the memory loss from Spellbound, and the creepy small town atmosphere from Shadow of a Doubt. I kinda just threw them all together. Still, I think it would be interesting. I'd watch it, at least.

Black Hawk Down

I really enjoyed this movie. I was in a mood for a story, and that's what I got. I already knew a little of the plot, but not enoughto make it predictable. The conflict was clear and defined early on. It was a simple challenge of survival; waiting until help could arrive. Spread throughout was character development, impressive shots, and a soundtrack that backed the tension and emotion in the characters.
I think a large part of the film's success was its realism. The actors' grim was pretty critical. I mean, if they'd been sitting there with ironed clothes and manicured nails, I would have been a little suspicious of their authenticity. Instead, they had mud and sweat on their faces, and they held their weapons like they knew how to use them. Which, because of the training the actors were required to undergo, they did.
That's really what this movie was about: reality. It was a real plot, a real setting, and real soldiers. Well, they were actors, but they were as close to soldiers as Hollywood can get. The music? The sound editing? Just complements; little added touches to accentuate the intensity of the film. When I saw Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven, it was all about the camera and sound. Here, it was all about the genuine story. Of course, Ridley Scott's finer touches were great. But this one goes down to realism.

Gladiator

Right. Gladiator. You know, the one on TV? Every other weekend? Yep, that's the one.

So, yes. Gladiator is fantastic. Some people don't feel this way, however. Some people say that Gladiator is nothing but cliches, battle scenes, and semi-historical fantasy. They might point to the soundtrack, which is full of big, sweeping, unoriginal songs. Maybe some frown upon Russell Crowe's both depressing and simple performance. Or maybe, just maybe, they point out that there are a dozen movies like this; all loosely based on historical events filled with enormous battle scenes.

To these people, I say: shut up.

I started like you. I was silly and dismissive. I was about three minutes into the movie when I snapped out of it. All those other movies? They copied this one. Do you want to know why they copied it? Because it f-ing works! This movie has those impressive battle scenes with the cliche stylistic effects - because it came up with them! The soundtrack was something new and original when it came out; it only seems common because it invented the genre! Irked by Russell Crowe? It's Russell F-ing Crowe! Strange, depressed, and slightly insane is what he does! Beautiful Mind? Cinderella Man? Hotel telephones? Dude could do crazy in his sleep!

Gladiator is a piece of art. Ridley Scott pulled together a satisfying, well-made movie. It is original, touching, and mesmerizing. There is nothing wrong with this movie. Now, if you are prepared to accept that, I'm sure it's on TV right now. Go watch it.