A Beginner's Take on Film Analyses

These past five weeks I've had the pleasure of taking my first ever film class! It was titled: Masters of the Modern Moving Image and focused mainly on modern cinematography but tackled a new theme each week. I had never read such interesting academic papers that *actually* intrigued me and left me viewing the world and cinema in new lights. Every week we had to write a very short film analysis based on one of the two movies we viewed and a film technique or concept that we had discussed. I can safely say that my confidence in my writing and analysis abilities has grown significantly in a mere five weeks but I definitely still have a lot to learn (and a lot of films that I still want to watch!). These excerpts below are all my short analyses but in the future I would love to write more/longer analyses as it's actually quite hard to say lots with a tight word limit! I hope someone enjoys these as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Still from The Handmaiden by Park Chan-Wook.

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#1 – The Art of Visual Symmetry

The Grand Budapest Hotel by Wes Anderson is a classic Anderson film that upon further analysis reveals his subtle artistic choices that come together to give the film its endearing and charming quality.

One aspect of the film that stuck out to me the most is the creative use of lighting. The first example of dramatic lighting use is at the beginning of the dinner between The Author and Zero. As Zero begins to tell the tale of how he came to own the hotel, the lighting becomes dramatically theatrical as the camera zooms into Zero’s face. The key lighting seems to be shut off, the fill light is kept on to give one side of his face dramatic shadows, and the sconces in the background of the scene illuminate – creating an image that is reminiscent of the lighting that is seen in dressing rooms in theatres. This change in lighting is not subtle, it is rather abrupt and captivating for the audience, as they are further drawn into the wild tale that Zero is about to begin. Another wonderful use of lighting is when Zero is reflecting on his brief period of innocent love with Agatha before both were whisked into adventure with Gustave. In a brief scene, we are shown Agatha’s head with brightly lit polka-dot like colored lights in the background and what seems to be a key light that is almost rotating around her face. It is simultaneously mesmerizing and enchanting, which is exactly how Zero feels about Agatha. We are viewing her from his point of view and the lighting only aides the audience in understanding that Zero sees her as the bright center of his world. I believe that both of these scenes create a “total experience” that Deren would be fond of.

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#2 – “Invisible” Cutting and the Long Take

The use of invisible cuts in 1917, directed by Sam Mendes, allows for the audience to feel the same anxiety about the passage of time that the main character Schofield feels as he rushes to deliver military orders that could be the difference between life and death for over 1,000 soldiers. The establishing shot of the movie focuses on Schofield and Blake sitting under a tree and then walking through the military camp towards the offices’ enclave and continues seemingly without any cuts for more than five minutes into the movie. By beginning the movie in this way, Mendes successfully sets us up for how the remainder of the film will continue – we will be alongside the two main characters as they race against time.

Whereas the long takes done in the film Rope were more to show off technical prowess and allow us to bear witness the events unfolding, the long takes in 1917 allow the audience to become part of the film and journey. The invisible cuts are often done in such a way that if the camera were human eyes, it cuts in instances where we also may lose sight of the characters in real life. For example, when passing through a bunch of soldiers or going through a dark passage way, these are moments where in real life our view of the main characters may be obstructed and thus Mendes takes advantage of these opportunities and often chooses to do hidden cuts in these areas, successfully going unnoticed to the untrained eye.

The film also closes on another long take and ends with Schofield sitting under a tree, alone this time. The consistent use of long takes and invisible cutting throughout the film contributes to the sense of partnership that the audience feels with Schofield and in this end scene, we better understand the waves of emotions that he must be experiencing after this tiresome and tribulating journey.

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#3 – The Avant-Garde and the Digital

Untitled (For Marilyn), by Stan Brakhage, is an experimental film that drives home the message that “perception is equally as important as thinking” as argued in A Plea for Visual Thinking by Rudolf Arnheim. Taken together, these two pieces push forth the narrative that language is not the only way that emotion and storytelling can be portrayed.

Prior to reading this article, I am slightly ashamed to admit that I was one of those people who would watch the experimental films in museums for a few minutes before leaving the piece, having barely digested anything and feeling rather confused than enlightened. Arnheim’s argument that perception is equally insightful as thinking allowed me to approach Untitled (For Marilyn) with new eyes. The words that flash throughout the entire film forming a poem are rapid, done in scratchy print, and have long periods of time between some of the words. Rather than being able to read the words on the film as if they are subtitles, the words must simply be perceived – the viewer is not given the ability to think too much about the meaning of the words as in-between are flashes of color and scenes of a church. While viewing the film, the words only contained coherent meaning for me in reference to the word that came immediately before and after. Arnheim says “Only when someone struggles to discover the order of a complicated composition does he experience within himself something of the shaping process in search of the final image” (177). Which is wonderfully supported by the fact that at the end of the film I did come to a personal narrative for the film, as did others in our class as said during Zoom.

If one tries to think too hard about this film, or other experimental film of this type, I believe that meaning can actually be lost rather than created. By forcing the viewer to simply focus on what is currently in front of them, they should come to their own created meaning by the end – as perception and interpretation varies person to person.

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#4 – The Animated Moving Image

The Wind Rises, by Hayao Miyazaki, is a beautiful film that represents Miyazaki’s and Studio Ghibli’s classic approach to the animated film. Specifically, I believe that the unique usage of sound throughout the film is what allows for such an intimate relationship between the viewer and the film as the story progresses.

The main aspect of the sound that stands out is the usage of human voices to create non-human sounds in two specific parts of the film. The first is during the earthquake - a large human sigh signifies the start of the earthquake and it quickly develops into a piercing screech. Not only does the viewer understand that the magnitude and thus catastrophic effect of the earthquake quickly grows, but they also understand that this is terrifying for the people in the film to experience. I personally felt that the people in the film actually underreacted to the event, as if they are possibly used to destructive natural events occurring frequently, and felt that the sound portrayed the proper human response of fear that was juxtaposed a few moments later when the people orderly walk up the mountain to safety. The second moment it is clear that human voices are being used is when they are making airplane sounds. While it of course sounds more organic and less “industrialized” than real plane sounds, it also had a subtle effect of giving the sequence a dream-like/child-like quality. Jiro has dreamed of creating these beautiful airplanes that he often rides on in his dreams with Caproni and in this scene where his airplanes are finally flying, the usage of human voices makes it sounds like a child is playing with plastic planes and giving them the ability to fly with his hands. So while the viewer sees the clear material success of Jiro’s hard work, they hear the human plane sounds, and are reminded that this has been his dream since he was a little boy that took human power to achieve and yet still has this dreamy quality to him even as his dreams materialize.

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#5 – The Gaze, Gender, and Desire

The Handmaiden, by Park Chan-Wook, is an immensely fascinating and complex film that explores the struggle for a lesbian relationship to come safetly into fruition. While the film has been critized for its imposing male gaze and overly pornagraphic lesbian sex scenes, I believe that the scenes that feature the female gaze are eloquently done and bring to light how everyday, mundane activities are viewed admiringly through the female perspective.

The first scene where the female gaze is present is when Sooke is bathing Hideko. Hideko is sucking on a lollipop, which can be seen as at least mildly sexual, when she complains of a sharp tooth. Sooke goes to file her tooth like a decent handmaiden would but this action is incredibly drawn out and becomes increasingly romantic as it progresses. One can assume that this is what is expected of a handmaiden, but Sooke does it with such eloquence, grace, and care that it becomes an act of genuine, tender nurturing; something that Hideko is clearly unfamiliar with. Hideko begins to assess Sooke with the female gaze and when Sooke meets her eyes, she realizes that she has been doing the same. At the end of the scene, Hideko turns away, implying that she must feel some form of guilt or uneasiness in this first act of lesbianism. The female gaze throughout this scene allows it be viewed as both a highly nurturing action and simultaneously a slightly erotic one, whereas I believe that a male gaze in this scene would result in Hideko sucking on Sooke’s fingers, as is often done in heterosexual porn where the fingers take on phallic representation.

Another scene where the female gaze is done with grace is when Hideko and Sooke are playing dress up with each other for the first time. This is an inherently female action because it is not something that can be done in a heterosexual relationship. In playing dress up (and, coincidentally, dress down) they are allowed to see each other as equals. In admiring the other, they are simultaneously admiring themselves (or at least their general female form) and this is shown wonderfully by the camera technique that displays Sooke admiring herself in the mirror and then admiring Hideko.