Sara will graduate from the University of Pennsylvania in 2009 with a BA in Cinema Studies. Currently, she has no idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life, though she will gamely field the question. She has been conducting independent film research for two years and presented a paper on Orson Welles’s The Stranger at the 2008 Society for Cinema and Media Studies conference. Sara’s personal mission is to convince everyone that, no, being a film major doesn’t just mean that you sit around and watch movies all day.
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October 22, 2008
Sorry to be really lame, but I don’t think I have time to publish a worthwhile post this week. I have a decent excuse, though:
The second Penn Film and Media Pioneers conference will be held this weekend. I am participating in a panel on “Theory and Practice” (I really don’t know what that’s supposed to mean) where I will be sharing some of my work on Orson Welles. I’ve been working to get ready for that and while I hope I’ll find time to write a post for this week, my incredible ability to procrastinate will inevitably get in the way, so let’s keep our fingers crossed that I’ll be back next week.
For those of you who are interested, let me offer you an idea of some topics I hope to cover in the coming posts:
- a review of the new HBO vampire show, True Blood;
- my take of Penn Film and Media Pioneers (special guests include Jon Avnet!);
- a discussion of my thesis work on Orson Welles;
- why I believe film education can save the world;
- thoughts on the dangers of genre;
- random musings and digressions, etc.
So, I’ll be back soon with a more substantial post. Until then, I recommend that everyone pick up Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence (starring Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer) and watch it at least three times. This film serves up a sumptuous visual feast that is such a joy for the eye-senses (the way you can smell, feel, and taste just by looking at something) as well as for the intellect, if you’re willing to engage it. Believe me, this is a film worth studying.
Thanks for reading!
Sara
October 12, 2008
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How have you been? You look good……what are you doing? Pilates? Yeah, I hear great things. I know! I wish I had the time…
Me? Oh, well, not a whole lot actually. I moved back to Philadelphia to start my senior year and got caught up in the business of coming back to campus. I mean, it’s only been……wow, almost two months? Really? Wow, I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch. I’ll try not to let it happen again, but you know how it gets. Moving back into my apartment, the Jewish holidays, working on my thesis……it’s been a little disruptive. I’m settled in now and will hopefully stay in closer contact.
Classes are okay, thanks. I’m managing to stay on top of my work this year, which is a big accomplishment for me. I have two interesting film courses: The Road Movie and Film and Literature. The latter is a graduate seminar, which is a little bit intimidating for me, but the professor is one of the most brilliant film scholars and my thesis advisor, so it’s one of my favorite classes. The Road Movie is an interesting course; I’m not familiar with the genre as an area of study (unlike film noir, which I feel like I’ve beaten to death at this point) so I’m learning a lot!
The problem is that while I’ve been working hard to make sure I’m up to scratch in my courses, I’ve been neglecting my thesis. No, it’s not mandatory for Cinema Studies majors, but almost everyone in my program wants to go into Hollywood production, so the thesis isn’t super relevant for them. And a lot of people don’t want the extra work. Trust me, it’s intimidating for me as well. I’ve been doing an independent research project for……let’s see, this will be my third year……so I really don’t have a choice. I have a pretty good idea what its focus will be; I’ll have to tell you about it sometime when I get my thoughts sorted out.
There’s been so much cool film happenings on campus! Most recently, three experimental German filmmakers gave a talk and screened some of their films (one works in Super8!). They are all women, which is particularly exciting because we too rarely celebrate the work of women filmmakers. Penn will, however, be welcoming Mira Nair this fall and I can’t wait! I’ve been waiting to see The Namesake (even when Kal Penn taught a course here last year, I never found time to see it) so this is the perfect opportunity. Most exciting was when Frederick Wiseman—the “grandfather” of American documentary cinema—screened his films and gave talks. He is an inspiring filmmaker and listening to him talk about his process was eye-opening, to say the least. No, you’ve never seen a Wiseman film? Rent High School and then move on to Titicut Follies—that film was banned for many years and you can see why! Well, have you heard of Michael Cera? He and Kat Dennings screened Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist for a mostly-Penn audience. That film was disappointing. I know!—I was so excited about it too. There were some excellent moments—look for Norah’s stumbling-drunk best friend and Nick’s charming gay bandmates. Sure, I’ll let you know about Philadelphia film events. Rachel Getting Married is having its Philadelphia premiere next week and I can’t wait to see what all the buzz is about.
Have I found a job yet? Hahahahah……oh wait, seriously? No I haven’t found a job! In this economy? Yeah, I really don’t know what I’m going to do……are dot-coms still doing well? I’m putting together some interesting ideas about potential employment, but haven’t started a serious search yet. Do you have any ideas? Well, let me know if you do. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
Listen, it was great catching up with you! We should definitely do this more often. I’m more or less free on Wednesdays, so let’s try to meet then. Don’t be mad if I flake out—it’s not personal, I just have trouble managing my time. Anyway, you take care and we’ll talk soon. And let me know if you see any interesting movies!
All best,
Sara
August 20, 2008
First off, let me apologize for completely skipping last week’s entry. It was my last week of work before I head back to Philadelphia for—oh lord—my senior year of college, and things were very crazy-busy. I think I owe my biggest apology to my friend Cherie who was studying for her DAT (the MCAT for wannabe dentists) all last week and was hoping to use my blog as a method of procrastination. Yeah, I dropped the ball there.
I also started to experience some blogger self-doubt—questioning whether anything I had to write was really worthy of being read. This is supposed to be an online community of bloggers writing about their specific roles in the film industry. Thing is, I’m obviously not a member of the industry. Not yet, and perhaps not ever. So I wonder what those of you who come to my blog are hoping to read. What perspective do you want to gain from a cinema studies student writing her thesis and looking for a job? Definitely don’t hesitate to suggest topics or ask questions or start conversations—this way, I feel like what I’m writing has some relevance.
On with the blogging: One of the many, many reasons why I value movies as important cultural resources is that they reflect our lives and how we live them. I firmly believe that children today learn how to behave in part from what they see onscreen. That said, movies aren’t always honest about what they show us. Decades of codes and conventions and cues that help us read what we see have settled into comfortable clichés that no longer hold any real meaning.
I’m watching Enchanted as I write—a delightful movie with a gorgeously sunny chanteuse in Amy Adams. I go crazy for that Oscar-nominated final ballroom song, although it is completely ruined when Patrick Dempsey starts singing (I’m not a McDreamy person). This film made me think of what has become, for me, one of the great puzzles of making movies: the Missed Kiss.
You all know what the Missed Kiss entails. Preceded by solemn conversation that decomposes into silly, empty sentences as the two parties involved realize that a liplock is imminent. They lean in toward each other, slowly, hesitantly, lashes fluttering downward, hearts racing……
And then someone wimps out. They were both right on track for a solid smooch (a feat indeed, when their eyes are closed and they’re moving that slowly). Then, one or both pulls away, usually for some lame reason—generally an internal struggle that helps to drive the rest of the plot. They turn from each other, bracing themselves for one of two inevitabilities: majorly awkward silence or embarrassing filler phrases.
I’ll stake my first-year salary (assuming I actually land a salary somewhere!) that the Missed Kiss just doesn’t happen in real life. Maybe it used to, when courting rituals were more defined and a stronger sense of propriety was instilled in the youth. I’ve never heard of anyone actually playing out a Missed Kiss, unless they were doing what they thought they were supposed to do, as based on the experiences movies show us.
There are many, many strange and different kinds of kissing that happen in real life. There’s the wonderful-for-you-two, annoying-as-hell-for-everyone-else kind of PDA you really only see in the streets of France. There are real kisses that happen between real people who don’t try to wring the drama from every minute they’re alive, kisses that actually contain traces of 1930s Hollywood romance. And then there are drunk kisses, which is really the most common kind at college. Mistake kisses, can’t-believe-I-did-that kisses, dare kisses, impulse kisses, but no Missed Kisses—the general rationale being kiss first, ask questions later. Sorry, but I think the only Missed Kiss in the movies that actually makes sense is from the genius Superbad: Jonah Hill’s Seth tries to find his crush’s lips, but falls drunkenly into her face, giving her a black eye. Now that one I’ve actually seen happen, at many a campus frat party.
The Missed Kiss has become in recent years one of the most overused groan-inducing plot devices—right up there with the I’m Not Gay (Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That) Speech and the Tom Hanks Accent. It indicates, in my opinion, a laziness on behalf of the artist responsible. The Missed Kiss should have been retired after the MTV Movie Awards did a Dawson’s Creek parody of a slow kiss between Dawson and Joey that takes the length of a room and the entirety of that mind-numbing theme song to complete. Once Samuel L. Jackson interrupted the imminent kiss by bursting in through the window and smashing the radio playing the ubiquitous tune, the Missed Kiss was done.
Or so we thought. Filmmakers have continued to resort to this and other tired tricks, maybe to give the actors a break from, you know, acting. They are stand-ins—rather than finding creative, expressive ways to get the point across, old favorites are called up as automatic replacements for genuine emoting. Everyone can recognize the Missed Kiss, so no further effort need be made to convey the characters’ internal struggles and external obstacles. Something stands in the way of true love—comedy, and this something is overcome; tragedy, and it will remain a mile-high roadblock. Yes, the Missed Kiss really says all this, but it is now just a pale echo left behind after decades of use.
There are few movies that show unique individuals relating to each other in something other than movie language. And I think there’s a part of today’s audience that’s getting fed up. Maybe this is why documentaries are becoming more and more popular. We crave something more substantial than cliché. We want something real to chew on.
Thanks for reading!
Sara
August 6, 2008
I’m pretty fired up this week and have had trouble channeling that energy into a coherent and cohesive entry, which is why I’m late in posting my blog. For the record, this thing is supposed to go up weekly, on Wednesdays, JUST in case there are some loyal followers out there. Anyone who knows me will agree that this is a dangerous opportunity I have been granted—the power to immortalize my thoughts by launching them into cyberspace, where they will sail forever on an unbroken trajectory. I’ve seen Spiderman and I know that with great power comes great responsibility, so I’m trying to check my ego and understand that this license to post does NOT mean I can be irresponsible about my blog content. For instance, I doubt the general public will appreciate it if I confide that the blinking Word cursor has suddenly and inexplicably shrunk to half its normal size. I’m having computer problems today… But that’s not why you come to Film Industry Bloggers.
Bloggers are widely criticized for their inflated sense of self-importance. Why, why WHY should we, do we give a fuck about whatever the hell is going on in YOUR life? Who are you to write anything, to THINK about anything? What credits YOU to have this opinion?
To be fair, many bloggers do suffer from this extended bout of ego. Having a forum for your ideas gives you authority, albeit a questionable, come-from-nowhere authority that is so true to the spirit of the Internet. You are suddenly legitimized. I blog, therefore I am.
That being said, who are we to tell someone that their thoughts are invalid? What grants any of US the authority to lampoon thinking beings for doing what Descartes pointed out was critical to existence itself?
These ideas are especially relevant to me this week, for several reasons involving (in no particular order): Alan Rickman, American Film Criticism, and Tucker Max. Actually, that was in alphabetical order.
I’ll start at the end. If you’re not familiar with Tucker Max, I’ll sum it up for you in a nutshell: he is an asshole. I’m not being mean—I know this because Tucker tells me: “My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole.” Anyway, to avoid stealing any of her thunder, I’ll just say that The Script Reader (who generally has a kick-ass blog) wrote a fantastic one last week about the in-production Tucker Max movie. She gave it—what she read of it—a miserable review, which makes sense because she sounds smart. Not elitist smart—and actually, let me break here to point out that I hate hate HATE it when intelligent people with opinions are criticized for being elitist and pretentious. Fuck, they’re offering their thoughts up to the slaughter and the public gleefully tries to knock them off their so-called “pedestals” to bring them down to the level of everyone else. It’s a sad state of affairs when thinking people aren’t allowed to do even that and self-glorifying idiots get off by trying to take them down.. Look, I appreciate She’s the Man—a decidedly stupid movie that is nevertheless one of my favorites—much more than probably Amanda Bynes herself. I loved the first and third Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I was raised on Animal House (thanks, Dad). I laugh louder at wildly obscene viral videos than most of my friends. I also adore Orson Welles and I can write intelligently about Abbas Kiarostami. Does that square with your self-proclaimed populist views—a shallow rationalization for being an online bully?
So while I’ll defend to the death Tucker Max’s right to say what he will, my opinion (and people: it’s just my opinion!) is that he’s poisonous. The Script Reader expressed her opinion and got slammed for it by the Tucker Max Morons, most of whom haven’t read the script and are therefore not totally qualified to disagree with her take. The thing that disturbed me most was that many of them read like this comment, submitted by “Dee”:
“Another idiotic blogger using a blog to proclaim that she/he is devoid of talent. Being overly critical of someone else’s work in a blog is like a finger painter blasting an artist. Blogs are just perfect as the showcases of the socially maladjusted who probably can’t get anyone to converse with them in person. After reading this trash I can’t wait to see the movie.”
Like a finger painter blasting an artist……who says a cat may not look at a king? And why, Dee, is your criticism justified where The Script Reader’s is not? If bloggers are the socially maladjusted of the world, then who are the parasites who glom onto the blogs and chew away at it? I would watch your finger-pointing, Dee and everyone else whose self-righteous berating made me want to throw my laptop across the room.
Film critics all over the country are losing their jobs for exactly this reason: the general public doesn’t seem to appreciate that one person is permitted to share his or her opinion. Granted, that subjective view is legitimized somewhat when it has the backing of an establish periodical, but it still remains highly subjective, and I would argue that there are few film critics who truly believe themselves to be the World’s Foremost Authority on anything, much less film. They love film and they love talking about film; take what they say with a grain of salt and move on. Maybe you’re still miffed that the critics didn’t like Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest when omigod that movie was awesome! Authority figures only have as much power as you give them and instead of whining and crying about the New York Times critic being too elitist and out of touch, you could be thinking your own thoughts.
One of the wonderful and, as mentioned, dangerous things about the Internet is the way it empowers and legitimizes people, no matter how unqualified, illiterate, or bat-shit berserk they may be. So the perceived hierarchical criticism of film—the people’s art—is giving way to a more democratic web-based system. Not everyone can write for Slate, but everyone can be a blogger!
I’m actually excited about this. I think anything that gets people to think harder about movies and make the effort to form their own viewpoint is vital. I just wish that Internet writers would take a second to proofread before they post. I honestly fear that someday we’re all going to talk Newspeak, like in 1984 (if you haven’t read the book, this is a good link to click). And after saying that, I know I’m going to get killed if I made even one tiny spelling mistake in this post. Because there are those of you lying in wait, ready to pounce on anyone who dares to have an original thought.
I didn’t get to Alan Rickman, did I? I’ll write about him later. For now I’ll close this entry, because I think I’ve done enough to showcase my social maladjustment. It’s time to resume my search for someone with whom I can converse.
Your blogger-in-arms,
Sara
P.S. Sometimes, I link words or phrases to sites that are relevant and help explain what’s going on in my ramblings. I’ve been finding that there are blue underlined words appearing in my blog entries without my consent. This site is trying an Amazon.com sponsoring thing and so, Amazon is making its own recommendations on my time. They are not nearly as relevant as the links I put up, although sometimes more entertaining because they make less sense. Anyway, just wanted to make you aware.
July 29, 2008
I’ve decided that I’m only making a half-hearted apology about last week’s bout of Nietzsche. General consensus among my more devoted readers—numbering, at this point, about five—is that they liked the blog, but didn’t understand the Nietzsche. That’s fair, but I’m not sorry for including him. You can expect more crazy philosophical ramblings from this blogger, so readers, ye be warned!
Okay, on to the question at hand. A couple of posts back, I received this challenging comment:
“… as a person studying the cinematic arts, what influence to you think the availability of inexpensive motion picture equipment and Internet distribution will have and/or is having on the future of cinema? I guess in order to put your answer into context, I’d also have to hear your definition of what is and is not cinema.”
In thinking about this question, I decided to throw out the theory because: a) my theoretical understanding is not fully developed, and b) that’s not the answer this sort of question demands. I can’t pretend to be any sort of expert; all I have are my own ideas. Essentially, I suppose, that’s the purpose of this blog—to offer up my own thoughts in order to add something to the conversation.
Let’s begin. I guess the first thing to make clear is that “cinema”, as I see it, is a subset of the “moving image” category. Moving images can be found not only in film, but also television programs, commercials, YouTube clips, flipbooks, etc. Walk through the Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, Queens and you’ll understand that this grouping encompasses so much more than studio-produced feature films.
I’ve been thinking about what makes a film a film since I returned from Cannes. Probably the overload of inaccessible, art-house cinema has forced me to contemplate film’s relevance. I asked myself whether, in the spirit of that lonely tree falling in the forest, if a film is playing and no one is watching, is it still a film? I believe that film cannot exist without an audience—be it an audience of one or one million. Someone has to be watching in order for film to fulfill its purpose. Otherwise, it’s just film stock, or a video cassette, or zeros and ones in cyberspace—all of which have no more meaning than an “Off” switch. They contain the potential to become cinema, but that is something very different from cinema itself.
Film has this wonderful, transformative power that sets it apart from all other types of visual art. It doesn’t just exist in space, as does a painting or a sculpture or a giant tapestry clinging to weathered stone walls. Film exists in time, and that is the great distinction. A movie has to be played in order to exist; otherwise, it’s just a story people have heard. It sits in this strange plane where it is simultaneously transient and immortal. It exists in one state of being for a fixed duration, made possible only through the actions of an outside agent (e.g. a projectionist or a DVD player). And then, when it’s not screening, a film remains part of this world, but in an entirely different form. Film is forever, this is true, but the flickering onscreen magic only truly happens in particular moments.
I feel like I’m wandering away from the main point here. My argument thus far has been that—unlike a painting which, after its moment of creation, fills a specific space and remains unchanged—cinema cannot function without its viewers. A film occupies multiple states of being at once.
In terms of what constitutes a film, there’s no reason to be resistant to home movies and YouTube clips. Cinema studies is embracing television and media literacy; ultimately, it’s a matter of the moving image being recognized as a visual text that can be read, decoded, debated, analyzed, and explored in so many ways. There’s a wide valley between narrative and documentary cinemas, as well as between the specific films in each of those categories. Who’s to say that the difference between studio features and home movies is any more important?
Our view of “cinema” is largely constituted by means of exhibition; if it’s shown in the local multiplex, it’s definitely a film. But, to state the obvious, the Internet is changing everything, especially the means of distributing and exhibiting a film. Take the final moments of the trailer for Joss Whedon’s fantastic, only-available-online movie-thing, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog: “Coming soon to a computer near you.” That says it all, don’t you think? It’s no longer just about what makes it to the big screen, thank god. I’m relieved because the tyranny of The System dictates the six or seven movies the general public gets to see at a particular time, shutting out the vast world of cinema that exists outside Hollywood and thereby dramatically limiting what we can see. It’s a dangerous way of doing things, in the opinion of this blogger.
I give thanks daily for DVD distribution; it’s the only way I’ll get to see American Teen or Trumbo—two of the best-reviewed indie movies currently playing, neither of which comes within 25 miles of my home. And while I’m waiting for Netflix to catch up to my ever-lengthening “must watch” list, there are websites like B-Side or IFC that provide alternatives to multiplex programming.
Look, the nature of film is changing, but it’s always changing. Can we really compare something on YouTube to The Godfather? The answer is not yet, but that Dramatic Chipmunk damn sure makes me laugh every time. As a medium for storytelling, a vehicle for spectacle, a text with something to say, film is whatever it needs to be and isn’t limited by its exhibition. A father obsessively seeking to capture every moment of his child’s third birthday party is a filmmaker too, and perhaps one whose work will ultimately be more meaningful than, say, something Michael Bay turns out.
Am I happy about these changes? I mean, it’s unnerving to me too. Quite frankly, the idea of watching a film on an iPod makes me nauseous. Watching anything on my computer makes me dizzy. I do, however, welcome changes that ensure that I don’t have to drive for hours (especially with these gas prices!) to see an interesting movie that doesn’t have saturation advertising to pull a giant opening weekend. As James Marsden’s character says in the it-has-its-moments Hairspray, “You can fight it, or you can rock out to it.”
Definitions are convenient and necessary; they allow us to negotiate this confusing and often troubling world. But, by definition, they are naturally exclusive—becoming ways to determine worth. The art world breeds elitists who determine what merits contemplation and consideration, exiling certain works and certain persons to the desolate wasteland of pale memories. Perhaps the Internet-inspired deconstruction of hierarchical criticism indicates that we can no longer justify this sort of exclusion; suddenly there are fans for every type of moving image and niche markets for particular stories or styles. It’s scary, certainly, to expand your definitions and let new ideas into your world, but it soon proves so ultimately, triumphantly, mind-blowingly rewarding that earlier hesitations become irrelevant rather fast.
In the next few years, will we see cinema studies classes focusing on home movies and the advent of YouTube clips? The answer is yes, and no. These questions are already starting to appear in all kinds of film classes and academic journals. If I had to boil my major down to a single idea, the discipline is about how we see the world and how we express this understanding. Under that category, the aesthetic choices my dad makes when shooting our summer barbeques become just as valid as Dennis Hopper’s decision to reject a traditional film score for Easy Rider. And this idea helps prop open the door to the limitless potential of film: to move us, challenge us, and transform us in ways we never before imagined.
Thanks for reading!
Sara
