Celebrating Narcissism: Synecdoche, New York
“I’ve watched you forever, Caden, but you’ve never really looked at anyone other than yourself.”
Yesterday I saw Synecdoche, New York. An odd failure of a movie. Here are some musings:
What’s seriously strange about this film is that, like Adaptation, it takes writer/director Charlie Kaufman’s inability to make something real as its subject. Unfortunately (and this is what many Kaufman fans fail to realize) “strange” does not mean the same thing as “good”.
It’s easy to get caught up in the puzzle of the movie. Why is the house on fire? Who’s writing in the girls’ diary? What’s the deal with the therapist? You might get the impression that beneath these puzzles, Kaufman is hiding some deep truth. Unfortunately, there’s nothing there, and the puzzles are simply distractions.
The difficulties of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character Caden mirror those of Kaufman. Caden is obsessed with trying to make a piece of art that’s true to reality, and so puts direct experiences of his life into the production. Problem is, no matter how good the performances are, Caden’s direct experience is now watching the actors perform, so he then sets about putting that reality into the production.
What we’re really watching here is a screenwriter getting lost in his own thoughts. Even as he (Kaufman) shows the damage that this does (to Caden), he’s incapable of getting past these thoughts and into real interaction with others.
You get the sense that if Kaufman was able to stand back, give his actors some room and let scenes play themselves out, something substantial could be captured. Unfortunately they’re stuck to the rigid path of quirkiness in the script, and are unable to explore any depths of actual people. As Kaufman is committed to expressing his own point of view, he’s unwilling to let the actors express theirs. Like Hoffman, Kaufman is off in his own head, obsessing over his thoughts without paying attention to the world outside, and then wondering why everything doesn’t go his way.
Neither Kaufman nor Caden are willing to ask others for their contribution to the work. It’s here where we get to the most depressing aspect of the film. Caden is justified for not truly interacting with many of the characters, as the majority of them act in bizarre, “quirky” ways that make real interaction impossible. Caden is given a valid reason for wanting to stay within his own head, but what about Kaufman? Is this the way he truly sees other people? It’s an excuse for narcissism, and ultimately a form of escapism from the real world.
What’s so frustrating about Synecdoche is that the answer to Kaufman’s problems is stunningly simple. Reality is always here in the present moment. If an artist is trying to capture and hold on to something in the past, they shouldn’t be surprised when the result doesn’t feel like it’s capturing reality. A great performance comes out of expressing something in the here and now, not attempting to imitate or decipher a past event. If Kaufman or Caden simply stopped for a minute and paid attention, they’d realize they’ve created long, overly complicated works, expressing nothing but their own failure.
What’s Wrong With Avatar?
There’s no doubt that the message James Cameron has tried to send with Avatar is a good one. We should take better care of indigenous peoples, we shouldn’t be so quick to exploit our natural landscapes, and a deeper connection to nature is sorely needed, especially in today’s culture.
Unfortunately, the superficial message, the content, of a film only counts for so much. In fact, the clear message given by the plot of a film may be contradicted, and perhaps completely destroyed, by the way the film is made, its style.
This differentiation between style and content is one that I feel is essential to understanding art and something that is always missed by filmgoers, so let me harp on about it for a minute.
In film, or any art, it’s not what is said that matters, but how it is said.
If a person was critiquing a portrait and said, “I like this painting because it’s of Martin Luther King, and he was a great guy”, no one would take them seriously. An awful painting of Martin Luther King is still an awful painting. In other arts, the difference between style and content is clearly understood, yet if a film is about something nice, something we can all agree with, then it’s automatically viewed as a good film. Why do you think Crash managed to win an Oscar? Sandra Bullock?
The reason for this lack of critical thinking is clear: Film is not taken seriously as an art form.
This doesn’t just apply to casual cinema-goers, but those highly regarded within the industry itself. See the continued popularity and credibility of The Oscars, Quentin Tarantino, Martin Scorsese, Ridley Scott, James Cameron, and on and on and on.
So back to Avatar. The story revolves around Sam Worthington’s character of Jake Sully, who goes to the island Pandora blah blah blah blah he falls in love with the Na’vi and defends them against the corporation he formerly served.
So if we’re looking at it purely in terms of the filmmakers intentions, the general message of Avatar can be boiled down to this:
- There are deeper emotional truths than what we superficially perceive.
- In order to find what’s right, we have to question our preconceived ideas and what those in authority tell us.
- We are fundamentally linked to nature and those we share it with.
These are all points we get from what characters say to each other, from what happens to them and the decisions they make. It’s how the characters are affected. But there’s something that’s much more important, and that’s how the film affects us.
So while the characters are learning these lessons, what are the lessons the audience is taught?
- Are we shown how there are deeper truths than those we see superficially?
No. Actually, everything in the film is made as superficial and easily digestible as possible. The mean looking army guys are also mean at the heart, while the nice, supermodel-thin, strangely alluring Na’vi (side-boob, anyone?) have nothing but goodness inside of them. When we do change our opinion on someone, (the only example I can think of is the male Na’vi) it’s never due to any depth of character, but a planned manipulation of the filmmaker’s. At all times, the message is clear: What you see on the most superficial of levels is what’s real.
- Are we ever shown the importance of questioning our pre-concieved ideas, or what authority tells us?
Nup. While Jake has a slight dilemma over whether to go against his sergeant at the beginning, the audience knows from the get-go that Jake will do the right thing soon enough, and there’s never any question of what the right thing is. The same Hollywood formula that’s been drummed into us since childhood is in full-effect here, and Cameron never dares do anything to go against the grain and actually challenge us.
One of the few interesting possibilities in the film was when Michelle Rodriguez’s character was required to attack the Na’vi. Rather than put us into an awkward position of having to watch a character in a troubling situation, where doing the right thing isn’t so easy, Rodriguez is simply able to fly the ship away without even a court-martial. A potential complex moment is discarded for a simplistic one.
If you’re one of the good guys in this film, it’s virtually impossible for you to a bad thing, and vice-versa. The good guys are good and the bad guys are bad. This simplistic way of thinking doesn’t encourage us to question authority, but blindly support it.
- Are we shown any link to nature in the film?
This one is so obvious it barely requires a response. The film is all technology. Every single shot is filled to the brim with special effects. Not only that, but the kind of subtlety you can find in nature itself is nowhere to be found. A simple flower can’t be beautiful, it has to be a flower that grows ten feet tall, flashes in high-definition colour and sprays 3d magic sprinkles all over the audience. One of the things that makes nature beautiful is that it simply is. It doesn’t have to knock us over the head, “Hey! Human being! Look how beautiful I am!”
Ultimately, any work of art is an expression of its author. Cameron shows himself to be someone with good intentions, sure. But everyone has good intentions. The person he expresses is someone incapable of deep thought, disconnected from reality, and firmly dedicated to the ways of thinking he himself condemns.
If you haven’t seen Avatar yet, don’t. I only went because so many of my friends assured me I’d love it, but it left me feeling strangely depressed. Not just because it was a bad film, but so many seemingly intelligent people actually thought this was the best cinema could hope to achieve as an art form. Believe me, it gets better.
Fraser Orr
Everything wrong with the state of cinema…
Posted by fraser in Uncategorized on November 8, 2009
…is right here.
Video: John Cassavetes – “Television Sucks!”
In this outtake from a 1978 television interview, Cassavetes discusses his film Opening Night for a while, and builds into a terrific rant on movies and movie audiences.
This is a great example of Cassavetes’ way with words, his dislike of people who live only for the approval of others, and his anger at the low popularity of his later films (especially Opening Night and Killing of a Chinese Bookie) None of which was dealt with in the “Constant Forge” documentary that came on the Criterion Collection box set.
Again, apologies for the text on the screen. Not my fault!
They Shape Opinions, Don’t They?
Posted by fraser in Uncategorized on June 8, 2009
Every ten years, Sight and Sound magazine polls 108 of famous directors and 145 film critics on their top ten favourite movies.
The website They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? takes things one step further. It takes a poll of virtually every poll they could find, and compiles a list of The Top 1000 Films of All Time.
Am I alone in thinking this is going in a seriously wrong direction? If we ask the question, “What makes these films so great?” the only answer the site offers is that others have said they are. Why should we put so much trust in them? Where does that leave our own viewpoint?
Poll-taking at this level isn’t just a hobby taken to a ridiculous extreme, it’s a recipe for close-mindedness. What’s easily forgotten is that so many great artists, Shakespeare, Mozart, Van Gogh, would never have reached the top of such a poll in their own art while they were creating their greatest works. To place authority in this poll is to miss the less popular filmmakers that have been too far ahead of their time to have achieved mainstream popularity.
In the last three years, the top 5 has always consisted of Citizen Kane, Vertigo, The Rules of the Game, 2001: A Space Odyssey and 8 1/2. The changes in rank at the high end of the spectrum are very slight, when they’re present at all. The inherent conclusion is that these films are just so great, so much better than all the others, that there’s a remarkable consensus that these are truly the best films of all time. That, of course, is the only possible insight into the films that this list can make. “What makes these the best films? Is it their insight into humanity? Their technical virtuosity? Their power to shatter our minds and open our perspectives to never before imagined possibilities of life?” “No. They’re the best because other people said so.”
I can understand the purpose of making the list, and I’d recommend people watch one of these 1,000 films rather than whatever is topping the box office this week. But I’d also recommend that after watching them, they don’t feel bad if they don’t “get” what makes such a film so much better than all the others. Instead, try watching some other films by the same director to understand their style a little more, or read the insights other writers have made into the films. Eventually you might begin to understand what you missed and be able to really get something from the films. Or, you might realize that the film doesn’t have anything substantial to offer, the critics who think the film is great are wrong, and it’s only been the reluctance of people to think for themselves that has made the work popular. Then forget the lists and look for films that can open your mind, expand your worldview and make you realize the uselessness of following what other people think.
Remember, people liked M. Night Shyamalan once, too.
Video: John Cassavetes – “A way of saying something that might be different”
Cassavetes explains why not everyone likes his film-making style.
Apologies for the big text in the middle of the screen. Don’t blame me, blame MacDonald!
I’ll put more good stuff up as time and my internet connection permits. Meanwhile, if you like 2012, lucid dreams and spiritual kind of stuff, check out Psychic Dream.
A Short Conversation About Film
Posted by fraser in Uncategorized on June 4, 2009
The following conversation took place between Fraser Orr and Lazlo Planifax on May 26th, 2009. Feel free to comment!
Fraser: Film, or any art, is about trying to express something, right? I mean, if it’s an artist’s job to do anything, it’s that. Otherwise we’re just paying him $15 to keep us distracted while we eat our popcorn.
Lazlo: Sure, I agree.
Fraser: So let’s just go over the simple ways an artist can express himself. Assuming the writer and director is the same person, what can they do? They decide what the characters will say, where the characters will stand in a room, how they’ll act towards each other, the way they’ll be framed in a shot, the way each shot is cut between others, maybe some music they’d like to add, or other kinds of visual effects. These aspects of the film are crafted in a certain way, and that’s how the artist expresses himself.
That is the absolute limit of the abilities of the language of cinema. If we’re really paying attention to a film, we’re paying attention to this.
Lazlo: That’s all mind-numbingly obvious, you just explained to me what I know I’d get from watching any movie ever made.
Fraser: Actually, that’s not what we’re getting from most films. What we really want when going into a cinema, and what most films provide us, is JUST to be distracted, to not pay attention to what is actually happening. This is done by “taking us on a journey” or by “transporting us into another world”. These sound like things we should want from cinema, but they’re just distractions from letting us pay attention.
Lazlo: But I AM paying attention when I watch a movie. If I’m being taken on a journey, then I’m paying attention to the journey.
Fraser: Not really., you’re actually pretending to be somewhere else. Let’s just watch your brain while you’re watching a movie:
“Oh, wow! It’s journey time, sweet! Look at those explosions! Holy crap! Man, the bad guy is a real arsehole, I can’t wait for the hero to kill him! Hey, this hero is a really nice guy, just like me! I could totally be the hero of this movie! Damn, that chick is hot, I wanna fuck her! Oh, dude, the hero just totally killed the bad guy! He can do anything and he’s just like me, so that means I can do anything! Hey look, now the hero is fucking the chick, it’s kind of like I’m fucking her right now!!! SWEET!!!” then all of a sudden, the credits are rolling and you’re left sitting with an empty box of popcorn, right where you started.
What’s Wrong with Hollywood – Part 1
Posted by fraser in What's Wrong With Hollywood on May 7, 2009
This is the first, admittedly very short, part of a lengthy essay I’ll be sharing in an attempt to articulate the dangers created by mainstream Hollywood film. Check back for updates.
Since this is the first piece on the site, let’s go way back to almost the beginning of all art, to ancient Egypt. While I’m no expert on this form of art, there are a few lessons that modern filmmakers and other artists can learn from the way they did things.
These works are familiar to everyone, and abide by a clear, rigid set of laws, or a style. As you can see in the picture, the head of a person is shown in profile, the eye from the front, the torso is front-on, while the arms and legs are seen sideways. These Egyptians displayed every thing they depicted from its most characteristic angle.
While the bodies look contorted to us, it’s important to remember that for those who hadn’t seen anything else, this was the clear, normal way to depict reality. With very few exceptions, these laws were seen as the only way to represent life. It would be impossible to argue to one of these artists that what they are doing isn’t true to the way things are, and there is a certain kind of logic to the notion that everything should be seen from the “correct” angle.
This notion was held so dogmatically that such a style was used to depict reality for two thousand years. So this style would not be recognized as a style, one particular way of doing things, but the only way of doing things, the way things are. The most admired artists were not those who were able to express themselves in an original way, but those who were most able to replicate the admired artists of the past.
It’s easy to look down on the ancient Egyptians with their blind adherence to such a primitive style. But it’s worth considering the ways in which we’re similar to these ancestors. Our own prejudices, our blindness to the way our art distorts reality, our inability to see the impact of style, and our belief that we’ve found the “right” way to show reality. This is where we come to modern film.
John Cassavetes – “I’m Almost Not Crazy
Posted by fraser in Uncategorized on January 5, 2009
A great documentary on Cassavetes that takes place during the filming of Love Streams.
The remaining six parts are on my Youtube page.