Archive for category film
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