the kino-eye (an early soviet film collective) believed that the camera could supplement and augment the vision (and thus perception) of the human being. i found this to never be true in watching film, but in producing it, it does seem present. in reviewing my clips, i found my perception augmented and expanded. why? because captured in a reviewable format, the moment was given many lives and almost a certain immortality. barthes of course talks about this through camera lucida, but he did not stop to consider how much moving pictures complicate the capturing of time. siegfried kracaeur did. an his theory moves from the film as a photograph made several in tracing the cinema’s unique ability to vivify what is only promised as living in static photographs.

anyway, with these things swirling about, i captured a few days of video of newport life, then cut it all together. included is the newport bermuda race, a nice bonus!

newport, a summer day from Zachary McCune on Vimeo.

Terry Gilliam is the last surrealist. His latest film, The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, confirms such an assertion with its dazzling and disorienting visual effects. In “the imaginarium” Dr. Parnassus brings visitors into a world of the dreams, an inversion of those intimate possessions as they are made an entire, external world. These spaces are disproportionately “surrealistic” in that they askew proportions and employ color schemes right out of a Dali. Though supposedly the dreams of the individual, all of Dr. Parnassus’-assisted-dream-spaces bend toward the surrealistic, complimenting the aesthetic and narrative predilections of Parnassus who is really just a proxy for the vision and desires of Terry Gilliam.

Terry Gilliam has a long history of perpetuating the surrealist paradigm. As a foundational member of Monty Python (and the author of its iconic animations) Gilliam participated in the invention and popularization of surrealist humor. He complimented the zany antics of Python humor with bleak, dystopian, unexpected, and often Jungian dream animations where the unexpected was always the protagonist and a sort of Victorian stiff-upper life was brought down to mere bathroom humor.

From Python, Gilliam became an independent director with film adaptations of Jabberwocky, and Baron von Munchausen, works of literature some bizarre and fantastic, so cryptic and unnerving that they suited his surrealist proclivities perfectly. Later work, like Time Bandits, 12 Monkeys, and his Criterion Collection edition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas simply perpetuated a certain aesthetic status quo. To say nothing of his immortal Brazil, which is firmly Orwell made surrealist, all of Gilliam work plays out like a dream you didn’t want to have, but can’t look away from. His penchant for the absurd, the grotesque, and the weird lends itself to new hybrid genres of narrative entirely his own: medieval surreal (jabberwocky) victorian surreal (Dr. Parnassus, Munchausen, Monty Python) and retrofuture surreal (12 monkeys, Brazil).

It’s not a great film this Dr. Parnassus, but it is proof that Terry Gilliam truly is an auteur, and one keeping lit a century old flame of surrealist art. In his veins pumps an aesthetic style conceived of by Dadaists and discontents, Dali and the French school, and made cinematic by Gilliam’s unique vision.

Parnassus tells a story of stories- claiming that if stories are no longer told, the world ceases to exist. And that may be the secret mantra of Terry Gilliam’s own production. For if he stops telling his stories, surrealism with its signature aesthetics, proclivities towards mirrors (how Freudian), and narratives that lack syntagmatic sense, will fade into a thing of the past, killing a whole approach to life and its creative subversion.

If Avatar has changed anything about then movies, then it has changed everything. Let’s begin by considering what depth means to cinema. Historically, depth has only existed as a perspective, the idea taken from painting and camera optics that all viewed reality merges at a ‘vanishing point’ somewhere behind the picture plane. The whole notion of a picture plane is something that has been foundational in Western art and visual regimes for nearly 500 years. But the idea of “depth” has only existed as a sign- a trick that suggests but does not manifest. Spectators, aware of the contradiction (how can depth be translated in a plane?), have willing participated in this signifying of depth, imagining some things “further back” than others even as they were represented on a single plane. Film scholars like Sigfried Kracauer have joyfully praised the idea of depth in films as something that makes narrative more complex. With “deep focus” techniques, two or more “levels” of narrative can share a single shot, thus relating two scenes that previously required montage. Deep focus has been a major part of cinema, and suggested that depth of vision complicated and improved the cinema’s ability to represent nature, and tell stories whose events might occur simultaneously.

Avatar changes the history of depth in Western visuality because it problematicizes the assumption that depth can occur in two dimensions. With the single hovering water droplet above our protagonist at the very opening of Avatar, we know that we can no longer believe in the technique of depth in two dimensional images. We can no longer let depth occur where it has not been earned by this new high technique, where our eyes are truly employed (as a biscopic mechanism) to preceive depth. It’s not that this technique is not also a trick, for indeed it is, but rather that it progresses a long stultified evolution of perspective that begins in the West with relief drawing and moves into a whole science of vanishing points. The depth of James Cameron’s Avatar changes our way of seeing, in that it creates new ways for the cinema to be seen, and thus re-informs our expectations of what is possible. This technological urge, to pursue new possibilities in the age of the digital, is something that the 21st century has been thoroughly caught up in, and now we have a film to mythologize our transition to digital culture. For Avatar’s plot is simple and its meaning translucent- in a world of new images and new technologies we are all the closer to identifying with images- the avatar of Second Life and other digital domains has entered cinema, where the out-of-body experience has long been present and is now re-invented.

Three dimensions also means that Avatar’s cinematography provides texture to the spectator in ways never before conceived. In one scene, Jakesully and his attractive love interest, swim beneath a neon brook, and we know they are swimming because the water is dimensional, with so much depth detail, that it feels real. It is some form of kineaesthesia or a visual tactility.  We know it’s water because it looks like water, not because it is a imagic sign of water. Depth changes the image, because depth escapes the picture plane, exploding its limitations however superficially.

Watching Avatar, I came to the conclusion that when 3D filmmaking becomes cheap enough for the avante-garde to try it, we will have some truly incredible objects of cinema. What would Godard do with 3D filmmaking? How best to unravel its techniques? How best to subvert the spectator in a world of depth?

Whatever the avante-garde does with 3D, the history of the image is changed, the expectations of the cinema spectator challenged, and the nature of cultural production complicated. For as powerful as 3D will be in producing new immersive worlds, even the 2D world changes now as it may take on a patina of authenticity and simplicity that black & white film continues to exert in a color world.

scholarship on sherlock holmes has always been preoccupied with two themes: the question of the sleuth sexuality (or, what’s all this about Watson then?) and the idea of Holmes as a rational, modern individual who is frequently made to deduce (and thus digest) what appear to be irrational, supernatural, and terrifyingly pre-modern cases. in guy ritchie’s adaptation of the legendary british detective, both themes are pursued with the kind of clever cinematographic zeal and speed that one has come to expect from man who gave us snatch and lock, stock, & two smoking barrels.

it is exciting to see sherlock holmes receive the 21st century upgrade that characters like James Bond received with Casino Royale, and Batman received with The Dark Knight. Re-inventing character-driven franchises has indeed been a major movement in cinema right now, with studios eager to have stagnant cultural empires reawoken with an introduction to a new generation. in shaking hands, the millenials meet a character who they have already heard of, but in a form that is just for their ideas of heroism, cunning, skill, and honor. the millenial moviegoer finds an ‘avatar’ of these lingering cultural signs which has shifted and reformed itself to become more compelling and complete for a world at a societal inflection point.

robert downey jr.’s sherlock holmes is as curmudgeony and irrate as holmes as always been. he is as wise and brilliant as holmes as always been. he is as aloof and insular as he has always been. but, he also a capable fighter, boxing in london’s underground when he is feeling down and he knows parkour, scrambling through london’s victorian urban environment with the adroit skill that one would expect from a nike commercial. holmes is clever and heroic in that he represents a superman- an individual of superior skill and intellect. which is not to say he’s perfect, for indeed, he suffers a childish psychology, which prevents him from knowing the bounds of society. he is rude and selfish, centering the world around him and expecting the orbit of friends, clients, and even his enemies. it is this selfishness that approaches homosexuality when holmes positively pouts over dr. watson’s (jude law) impending marriage and move out from 221b Baker Street. one could almost suggest that in ritchie’s vision 221b is the romping gay days of watson and holmes, a relationship of deep intimacy and caring. when holmes shrugs off a long time love interest (rachel mcadams) at the end of the film, doubts about his sexuality re-emerge. what is it that holmes wants? watson. with no doubts.

is the storyline original? yes and no. yes, in that it doesn’t make use of any of a hundred plus available holmes adventures, but no in that it doesn’t break new ground. instead, the film uses plot material taken from a host of contemporary popular entertainments; this is sherlock holmes unraveling the pop culture mystery of harry potter and twilight.

this film is outstanding because everything is done well, and some things are even done exceptionally. the acting is superb, the writing fun and fast, and the plot not too j.j. abrams-y to require intense speculation and confusion. the narrative runs straight and true- tension pushing the film forward, a climax bringing us to our feet, and a conclusion resolving our doubts and disbeliefs. the conclusion is a holmes tradition, a detective tradition even more broadly. you simply cannot have a mystery without its complete intellectual deconstruction. in this film, like in all holmes stories, we are brought to unmask mystery and superstition with logic and reason.

and holmes’ conclusion in this film is the moviegoer’s own: there is no magic needed to create the greatness, only intelligent tricks, artistic flair, and masterful delievery.

the five coolest things from last week

this is rundown of the coolest things i came across last week. it includes a remix, a video game, two trailers, and an essay. i am going to try to do this more often, as it will give me a larger outlet for the fun stuff i discover on the ‘nets.

5. DJ Tiesto’s Remix of the Killer’s Spaceman

4. The trailer for Ponyo – which I will hopefully see soon.

3. The trailer for Terry Gilliam’s upcoming film – The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus- which features the last footage of Heath Ledger (and the subsequent replacement of Ledger by Depp, Colin Ferrell and Jude Law collectively)

2. a gorgeous essay on my beloved orange line.

1. a video game adaptation of dante’s infero? TELL. ME. MORE.

Bonus: the paradigm collection – cool art versions of video games that imagine a criterion collection for gaming.

I have long believed that film students and critics need a real (or reel if you will excuse the pun) tool for critically annotating film. Now that DVD technology has advanced enough, I imagined a program or even a simple plugin that would enable movie viewers to take notes on a film.

The program would work simply enough. While watching a DVD, a user would hit a hot key (or key combination) to create an annotation. The DVD playback would then pause and a screenshot would be taken of the current frame. The screenshot would be loaded into a Text (or Word or Open Office or whatever) document, and the document would caption the image with the elapsed time of the film at the moment of the capture. Then, the user would be free to write whatever notes he/she chose, and continue along with the film. If another operative moment were to come along, then the next screenshot and note would simply be added to the existing file rather that start a new one. The text file would be saved with the film’s name and the date of the screening automatically. It would be an annotated digest of the film.

Once again this program would work by:

1. pausing film
2. taking a screenshot
3. opening a text editor
4. importing the screenshot
5. importing the film’s elapsed time
6. allowing for user note composition
7. automatically save the file as the film’s name and date of screening (i.e. Godfather_3_20_2009.txt)
8. allow for multiple notes in the same file

And that’s that.

Implementation

So I’ve been trying to make this a reality, and it’s proven quite difficult. The first problem is that I am rather forced to use applescript, because of its ease of use with multiple programs, rather than something more powerful like java. For those who have never used applescript, it’s a bit like programming for dummies, and while it is cool (and works with practically everything) it has exposed all sorts of short comings in my favorite programs (like why does VLC not have an elapsed time function?). The other problem I have run into is the screenshot component of the program which is not allowed if I play my DVDs through DVD Player, thereby forcing the use of VLC, which (as stated earlier) has a WEAK applescript library.

So here’s my code for now, hopefully more to come, although at current it still makes more sense for me to do this manually then struggle with this programming.

property el : 0
tell application “VLC”
play
end tell

property N : 0
set N to N + 1
set picPath to ((POSIX path of (path to desktop)) & “Cinema_” & N & “.png”) as string
do shell script “screencapture -tjpg ” & quoted form of picPath

tell application “TextEdit”
make new document
end tell

or for the DVD Player (screen capture doesn’t work)

property el : 0
tell application “DVD Player”
pause dvd
end tell

property N : 0
set N to N + 1
set picPath to ((POSIX path of (path to desktop)) & “Cinema_” & N & “.png”) as string
do shell script “screencapture -tjpg ” & quoted form of picPath

tell application “DVD Player”
set el to elapsed time
end tell

tell application “TextEdit”
make new document
set timeCode to “Note Taken at: ” & el & return
set the text of the front document to timeCode
end tell

i’ve been taking an outstanding film theory class with phil rosen this semester. rosen, it tuns out, is kind of the reigning critical perspective on the authors we are reading: eisenstein, bazin, munsterberg, etc.

a couple of weeks ago, in an attempt to both exorcise my creative demons and begin assessing the necessary theory for a paper on sergei eisenstein’s film theory, i struck on the concept of a “this week in film theory.” as a weekly re-occurring series of animations on film theory, “this week in film theory” sounded like a great idea. the only problem was, it took three weeks to get this first week done.

so i would very much like to have further episodes, but i don’t know if i have enough time in the semester.

enjoy.

israeli film festival

the israeli film festival was really a treat. running between february 7 and february 18, it brought nine recent israeli funded or directed films. all of them dealt directly with questions of israeli identity, and by virtue of their thematic contents suggested that the israeli experience was a very dramatic combination of war, family fighting, and major considerations of politics and religion. at least, that was what on screen.

shiva

unfortunately, i only managed to catch two of the films. the first was “shiva” or “the seven days.” it was a family drama, set in a potent political scenario (war) along which a family must mourn the death of a pivotal family member and in the process everything breaks apart. the most interesting thing about this film must have been the style of highly static cinematography employed by the director. long shots unmoving shots employed in this film play up the whole theatricality of the drama (not in the sense that it is overacted, more in the sense that it is a very visceral, performative movie).only the concluding shot employs motion, which feels very dynamic and liberating within the film’s extended stasis, and thus the conclusion offers some hope that life might get back to “normalcy.”

waltz with bashir

this was the cherry on top of the israeli film fest. this was the big draw (pun intended). because art director david polonsky was on campus for the screening, and took a q+a after the film, EVERYONE (who was anyone) was outside the avon (pretty righteous screening spot) a half hour before the doors opened. which is why i got there an hour ahead of time. there, in the lightly falling snow, thinking forward to next week’s french film festival, i began to appreciate how much was going on for film on college hill.

they didn’t start the movie for a half hour (which i will always begrudge them because it meant i couldn’t stay for the q+a) but the film was worth. vivid, hypnotic, and haunting at the same time, the animation lent itself to the film’s theme, recovering memories of war through the filmic process. like a dream, the color schemes shift, and the characters take on the dynamics of puppets and projections. their spectrality becomes a compliment for the ephemerality of memory. no one can remember who was there or what happened. it was great film, but also politically problematic, as it defitely shelved issues of guilt by employing the shock of being soldier. like the film, we are confused by our responsibilty towards what we see, we do not know how to re-act to what we see, and that is both the film’s final point (signifyed with a transition to “real footage” at the end of the film which actually simulateaneously documents the particular historical moment, and abstracts the film’s tragedy into a universal, much repeated tragedy).

french film festival

i volunteered to poster for this year’s festival, which not only scored me 8 free tickets (!!!!) but also got me a shout out in the festival’s pre-film slideshow, which i confess felt pretty good. thus far, i’ve used 5/8 but plan on catching either bluff, or azur & ashmar sometime over the weekend. the two films i have seen have been very good. its without a doubt the best fff since i got to brown.

naissance des pieuvres (water lilies)

the french love taboo. they love them because they are so potent and produce vibrant scandal when trespassed upon. in water lilies, taboo is tortured out by adolescence, as three young parisennes struggle to find their place in society. each girl, masterfully selected by the director, manages to operate as a perfect antidote to other two. there is floriane, the beautiful, bisexual “slag,” marie, the slight, flat-chested lesbian, and anne who is overweight and desperate for men. each girl’s struggle is played out by appeals to the others’ strengths. which makes it a very “ring true” adolescent tale, with all of the hopes of teenagehood with all of its debilitating misgivings.

one scene stands along in this movie, and when you see the film, you will know the scene. i have heard a cinema be so quiet. the only sound was that of the questionable actions in the film, and the particularly french sound of a taboo being torn to shreds.

captaine achab

a wonderful character study, captaine achab blends a pre-moby dick story with a sort of new england huck finn adaptation (as noted by my roomate, jeff knowles). achab is a vermont boy whose life in the wild is first undone by the death of his mother (whose vagina we find ourselves staring at as the film opens) then the death of his father (at the hands of a wild woman with whom achab falls in love). domesticated by his aunt, achab employs a clever ruse to escape his life in vermont, fabricating the intrusion of a wanted criminal and then travelling down the connecticut river in a small row boat. actually cornered by the same criminal who he pretended came for him, achab is knocked unconscious and taken all the way down the connecticut river to new haven, where he hears “the murmur of the sea” and begins a new, dark life.

captaine achab is the best movie i didn’t expect see. with waltz with bashir nominated as it was for an oscar, i knew i was off to see great things. by achab was really an outstanding film, shot beautifully, written wondefully, and causing a total re-evaluation for me (who has always hated moby dick) of melville’s seminal work.