Academy Award-winning Swedish writer-director Ingmar Bergman has died at his home at the age of 89. Bergman really defines the whole oeuvre of art film. His dark and often psychological stories include Persona, The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries.
The Washington Post has a well written obituary: Swedish Film Director Ingmar Bergman Dies at 89
Graham Greene once wrote:
The second-rate cinema mind has always been attracted to symbolism – the apple blossom falling in the rain, the broken glass, all the sham poetic ways of avoiding the direct statement, which demands some insight into the way men really act.
In the same piece, he describes the overused technique of filming an old man about to die. Rather than showing his death, the camera settles on the stylus of a gramophone scraping at the end of the record.
I agree completely with Graham in his take on symbolism. The trouble with symbols is that they invite clichés. An artist that uses a grand symbol may think he is being pretty clever. He may even fool himself into believing that he is doing something that has never been done before. Of course, everything has been done before and then done again. Today’s screenwriter knows that avoiding clichés is an essential part of good writing. Without any completely original ideas to work from, many writers like to start with a cliché and turn it on its head. They will write something a little different by defying an expectation. In any case, the result should be far more interesting that resorting to symbolism. A writer will never have cause to pat themselves on the back for coming up with a clever symbol.
This is my contribution to The Ambitious-Failure Blog-A-Thon that runs from June 20th-24th.
History is nearly always kind to films. It’s something to be thankful for when a film that doesn’t open to strong sales can be out of theatres and on its way to rentals within the same week. Many films that audiences miss the first time around gain a wider following over time, and like cream, they rise to the top.
For this essay on an ambitious failure, my initial thought was to go for a classic film, perhaps an early Howard Hawks film that went unnoticed until critics got serious about his work in the 1960s. On further thought, I decided to explore something much more recent, a film that is still building it’s audience and deserves a little boost now.
The Quiet American (Phillip Noyce, 2002) is one of the finest adaptations made from a Graham Greene novel, perhaps only surpassed by Carol Reed’s The Third Man (1949). The Quiet American is set amidst the political intrigue and violence of the French struggle against communism in Indo-China. Michael Caine is Fowler, a cynical foreign correspondent that goes so far to avoid taking sides, that he doesn’t even want to form opinions. Into the complicated struggle for power, comes Pyle (Brendan Fraser), an idealistic young American who wants to promote democracy in Vietnam through a mysterious “Third Force.” This is the beginning of American intervention in Vietnam and Pyle’s actions end up causing more violence and bloodshed.
If that were not enough to cause tension between the friends, Pyle also steals Fowler’s girl, a beautiful young Vietnamese woman, Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen). As the political situation continues to heat up, Fowler is inevitably forced to take a stand and choose a side. His actions lead to directly to the death of his friend, and allow him to get Phuong back. This version of the film beautifully maintains the moral ambivalence that ends the novel.
There was an earlier film version of The Quiet American (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1958), which made significant changes to the story, basically turning the interfering Pyle into a good guy and making a buffoon of the British correspondent. Greene was outraged by the original adaptation, calling it a treachery, and saying that “Mankiewicz…made it into a propaganda film for America in Vietnam, when it had been an attack on the American influences in Vietnam.” (The Graham Greene Film Reader, 543) If the author had lived to see this version, the former film critic would undoubtedly have been very pleased with the results.
As faithful and interesting as this adaptation is, The Quiet American very nearly vanished into obscurity becaue of the heinous events of September 2001. In Down and Dirty Pictures, Peter Biskind’s portrait of American independent cinema, the author details the film’s near demise.
Biskind writes that The Quiet American was first tested with audiences on September 10, 2001 and scored reasonably well. The unspeakable events of the following day postponed the director’s meetings with Miramax, who had won the American rights to the film. The film was tested again in October and the scores plummeted, casting the film’s fate into limbo. Test viewers did not like a film they saw as “taking a swipe at America.” Mirimax stalled on plans to release the film and it looked like it might be released straight to video.
Director Phillip Noyce (Clear and Present Danger, 1994; The Bone Collector, 1999) pushed hard for the film’s theatrical release. Ultimately, it was under pressure from star Michael Caine, who insisted that Miramax meet their contractual obligations, that the film was screened at the Toronto International Film Festival. Full support was still not forthcoming. Miramax didn’t even provide press kits at the press screening.
The film was sunk by lackluster marketing. It opened in 2002 and played for about two weeks, with Miramax meeting the bare minimum of their contractual obligations. The film earned $13 million in the US and another $25 million worldwide. It has been suggested by indie film publicist Mickey Cottrell, that the film would have fared much better with Miramax’s full support. Instead, they put all their weight and support behind the Oscar hopeful Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002).
The Quiet American is the film that should have gotten Michael Caine a best actor Oscar. He has already won twice for supporting roles. This was his fourth nomination in a leading role. Of films in this genre, The Quiet American ranks with The Killing Fields (Roland Joffe, 1984), and Salvador (Oliver Stone, 1986) in terms of acting, storytelling and historical significance. As an expat who has lived in Asia for nearly ten years, I feel that this is one of the few films that accurately captures the reality of overseas life.
All of the character’s motivations and the underlying subtexts of each scene are exemplary. We can credit Greene with a great story, and laud Noyce for its brilliant execution. The Quiet American was critically praised, but commercially neglected, leaving many people like myself to discover the film on DVD. It is one of my favorite films of all time; a story told with a great deal of depth and a refreshing taste of authentic atmosphere. (I am writing this post in Hanoi.) The Quiet American does what truly great art should do, not portray life as it is, but life as it should be.
The Quiet American appeared on over 20 top ten lists for 2002, including the National Board of Review and the American Film Institute.
Enough with the remakes, already! Not only has Hollywood run out of good ideas, they’ve run out of bad ones too. I just hope we’re nearing the end of the cycle where every movie and TV show anyone ever liked is remade. We could also do without the sequels to movies of old TV shows as well.
Entertainment Weekly recently ran a Q&A with Kurt Russell aptly titled Remake The Snake? Kurt jokes that Hollywood is “remaking everything I’ve ever done.” With plans in the works for remakes of The Thing (1982) and Escape From New York (1981) he could be right.
The interview is worth a read because Kurt puts things rather well. On the remake of Escape From New York, Kurt says: “I didn’t play Snake Plissken. I created him!” And that’s something that the latest slew of remakes can’t recapture. You can bring in new writers and update the material. But the characters that people identify with, are the artistic creations of the original actors. The recent Casino Royale (2006) only really worked because Daniel Craig was all about redefining the character. For me, Escape From New York and The Thing are Kurt’s defining roles. His whole screen persona can be found in those films, and his recent comments have given the most convincing reason for giving up on more remakes. Kurt is Snake. What’s the point of bringing in new actors to replay someone else’s creation?
In the early hours of Wednesday morning, director Bob Clark was killed in a car accident when his car was struck head-on by a drunk driver. Most people will remember Bob as the director and co-writer of the classic comedy A Christmas Story (1983). It’s one of those sentimental movies that everyone seems to like watching once a year. I rate it right up there with The Wizard of Oz (1939).
Aside from A Christmas Story’s warm nostalgia, Bob is also the director of a few other childhood favorites of mine. There is of course Porky’s (1982). Up until last year Porky’s was Canada’s highest grossing movie. Yes, it was a Canadian production. I’ve been so taken with Porky’s over the years that I even wrote an academic paper on it when I was a film studies student at Carleton University. At the moment I can’t quite remember what I had to say about it though.
Porky’s is truly the seminal teen comedy, standing head and shoulders above it’s followers and imitators: Revenge of the Nerds (1984) and American Pie (1999). All these films share the common theme, a Joeseph Campbell Hero’s Journey to lose one’s virginity. According to legend, Porky’s was based in part on the director’s own experiences growing up, and he shares a co-writing credit on the film.
Another of Bob’s classic oeuvres is the teaming of Sylvester Stallone and Dolly Parton in the musical comedy Rhinestone (1984). Not only is this one of Sylvester’s more interesting artistic detours, the film also shows him flexing his screenwriting muscles once again. I’m somewhat fond of this movie because I’m the treasurer and vice-president of The China Sylvester Stallone Fan Club. We do frequent screenings of Sly movies followed by serious discussions of the films. Rhinestone was very well received and got high marks from the club for story, directing and screenplay.
Bob Clark was 67.
Oh, YouTube! You’ve done it again.
It took a long time to come out, but someone has posted footage of Director David O. Russell going off on Lily Tomlin. Once again, this shows the power of “new film.” It’s another of those clips that captures someone saying or doing something they probably shouldn’t. And it plays out better than any movie you could write.
No one’s disputing the pressure, paranoia and tension that can work its way onto a movie set. Getting a movie made period is probably one of the hardest things to do. Making that movie good is sometimes beyond anyone’s control. But there is no directing course or book out there that advocates this approach to working with actors. Everyone has different ways of working, but a hostile director is never going to bring out the best in people.
Two thumbs up on this clip of a director going berserk and making an ass of himself. My favorite part is watching him prance around yelling “Grow up! You’re not a baby!” It’s ironic given how immature he looks during these lines. Maybe he should go back to spanking the monkey.
Some years ago, before I was directly involved in the making of films, I had a conversation with a Beijing filmmaker. He was curious about what my film studies education involved and I mentioned the main areas of study were film history, theory and criticism. His ears pricked up at the word criticism. In a derisive kind of way he said the word “critics!” and scoffed.
He was probably suffering from the attitude that many artists have: the belief that critics never create anything, and earn a living by tearing down the work of others. It would be totally unfair of me to perpetuate the belief that critics only have a negative impact on filmmaking. Despite all the hard work and suffering that goes into making a movie, not every finished film is worthy of admiration. Above all else, critics are the ones in the best position to help us understand what makes certain films good.
Certainly there are inherent differences between journalistic criticism and academic criticism. While the film reviewer writes for a mass audience, his work is not that different from the scholarly work that tries to understand why film works, what it means, and what effects it has on people. The deeper understanding of film that professional critics can develop is something the aspiring filmmaker and writer should not overlook.
There are many notable examples of critics turned writer or director. Perhaps most famous of these is François Truffaut, one of the directors at the forefront of French New Wave cinema. François began his film career as critic for the film journal Cahiers du Cinema. In this role he was so outspoken in some of his criticisms of contemporary French films that he was was refused a press pass to the 1958 Cannes Film Festival. In his short career he went on to work as a screenwriter, director, producer and actor. Some of the classic films he helmed include The 400 Blows (1959), Jules and Jim (1962), and Day For Night (1973), which won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. Entertainment Weekly voted him the the 27th Greatest Director of all time, the highest ranking former critic to make the list. He died in 1984 of a brain tumour.
An early American critic turned screenwriter was Robert E. Sherwood, the Oscar winning author of The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). As a film reviewer for Life and Variety, Robert’s column was syndicated to hundreds of newspapers nationally. He later served as an uncredited script doctor on innumerable Hollywood classics. Some of his more notable screenplays include The Petrified Forest (1936), Rebecca (1940), Waterloo Bridge (1940), and Northwest Passage (1940). He died of a Heart Attack in 1955.
One of Britain’s most enduring contributions to cinema was Graham Greene, who had a varied career as novelist, travel writer and playwright. He also began his literary career as a film critic. Later on he took stabs at producing and writing screenplays, including adaptations of his own work Brighton Rock (1947), The Fallen Idol (1948), and The Third Man (1949). His years as a critic were prolific, and he voiced the opinion that the job of the critic was a compromise. He felt it was the critics job to judge the artistic merits of a film and entertain the reader at the same time. His own writing follows through on this belief as his reviews show clearly there is more to writing a review than telling the reader why a film is bad. The Graham Greene Film Reader is about as excellent a book you can find that that traces the path a critic takes to becoming a screenwriter. It includes an an excellent introduction David Parkinson. Graham died in 1991 of natural causes.
The lives of these individuals are inspirational to any aspiring writer or director. Over and over again one thing is proven: there is no single path to the director’s chair. Even the greatest antagonists of filmmakers have gone on to make films of their own.
An earthquake off the coast of Taiwan in December of 2006 left much of Asia without access to most of the Internet. The damaged cables took nearly two months to repair and left millions of people looking for new ways to gather information and while away their time at work.
Being stuck behind the severed cables I brought in the first new year in a long time without Internet access. So when thinking of my favourite things of the past year, such as movies and music, I couldn’t turn to the net for more info. A few months have passed and thinking back on it, something unusual happened in 2006.
When trying to come up with a list of my three favourite movies of the year I realized that not a single Hollywood movie made my list. But this year my choice of top films weren’t even foreign films or indie flicks. The three films I watched in 2006 that left the longest lasting impact on me were movies I watched on YouTube. As you can still find all these movies online I will only briefly recap them here.
Online movies and videos have arrived in a big way. Does any of this mean that Hollywood needs to worry? Perhaps not just yet. But I would have to say that 2006 saw a sea of change for entertainment. I consider myself rather traditional when it comes to movies. I prefer the classics. Thanks to the above films I now turn first to the Internet for my kicks and movie entertainment. Thanks to Bus Uncle and those wily comedians, one day I may find myself saying goodbye to DVDs and the cinema. And I will remember 2006 as the year my tastes in movies changed for good.
