One isle over, I overheard a thirty-something year old father and his son shopping for a pair of sneakers. Pops was one of those sports fans, sporting tattoos, little bit chubby, little bit short, seemed like a chill guy.

“These are so comfortable man. You see the commercials for these? Forty-five dollars? Shit man. That’s so expensive! God, that’s so expensive.”

He had a hard time picking out a pair.

I put down the $50 Converse I was trying on and left the store, I felt horrible.

About a week ago, I read about how President Obama was planning to visit Edison, New Jersey. Naturally, I was excited as yelling “Obama” is one of my favorite things to do. Plus, Edison of all places? At least something is actually happening around here. Two days later, they announced that he was going to visit an “unnamed small business”. One day later, “Tastee Sub Shop.”

I forced myself up at 11am, the earliest I’ve woken all summer. Treated myself to some oatmeal and a banana and headed straight out the door.

I’ve never attended a political event before. Hell, I don’t know anything about American politics in general. I studied my ass off for that course, memorizing the entire text book just so I could rewrite it in an essay. I got a B, but I completely forgot everything I learned.

There were four huge crowds gathered at the four corners surrounding the intersection near the restaurant. Obviously, security was tight. Men dressed in black wielding binoculars surrounding Tastee. Every cop car in the town lined up side by side. Getting a glimpse of the President would be impossible, not to mention a photograph.

Still, fans showed up expecting to catch whatever glimpse they could, and tea party members stayed to voice their opinions. Subconsciously, I knew drama and heckling were inevitable . But I did not expect people to be so angry on both sides of the debate.

I have to say, the shrieks were no where near the level of the last Harry Potter premiere in NYC when Obama finally arrived for lunch.

I showed up only to take photographs, I didn’t to expect to capture any video. Regardless, check out my new short film here.

Check out the pictures here.

Stop fucking moving around and stop looking and see the shit in front of your fucking eyes. See your reflection in the mirror and those pimples behind your ear.

Sure, cinema is a representation. So is literature, painting, sculpture, every form of art, every form of expression. Hell, even those dumb video games. Representation of life, ideas, dreams – some of them are good, some of them are bad, some are entertaining and some aren’t.

My point?

A representation will never be a complete or perfect portrayal of what it is attempting to display. You know that. Everyone knows that.

If that is the case, than tell me why more people see through viewing cinema than what those individual films represent. Check out those folks who choose not to acknowledge anything at all in their surroundings and state of being, and restrict themselves to consuming complete shit through cinema. Waste of life if you ask me.

Actually, I don’t know what my point is.

Who gives a fuck.

Film is beautiful. The experiences and relationships you develop through a picture is infinitely more real – more truthful – than anything in your life. In good cinema, the way you feel about a character is exactly the same, or more significant than those of “real life.” They’re one and the same. If anything, the only difference is the amount of time you spend with them.

Then they’re gone forever.

Sure, that dream isn’t the same. It’s focused, it’s displayed, it’s truth and meaning. It isn’t a lie, it’s never a lie. You take it as it is.

Roger Ebert said, “You might want to see [the film] for no other reason than because it exists. There will never be another like it.” The Fall breaks no boundaries in it’s style, it does not seek to be a rebellious in it’s conventions; still, I have not seen anything like this, and I doubt I ever will.

Quick synopsis: Alexandria (Catinca Untaru), a young girl with a broken arm is recovering at a hospital where she meets a stunt man named Roy Walker (Lee Pace) who shares an “epic” story with her.

As usual, this is not a review, just points of personal interest.

The young girl at the center of the story is a more than suitable protagonist for this tale. Her youth, age and innocence – ignorant from the consequences of lying and stealing – provides an effective perspective on it’s subject matter. The Fall is a film about the power of the imagination, the blurred line, or lack thereof,  between fiction and the real world. Without her to guide us, a reminder of this escapism and the exterior affect on the imagined and vice versa would be forgotten. The audience is given permission to explore in a manner that would be impossible with an adult (See The Diving Bell and the Butterfly for a different approach towards the relationship between real life and the imagination). At some point, it even covers what I feel to be one of the most important functions of cinema itself.

And as usual, I’m a sucker for those kinds of characters.

As I said before, The Fall does not try to be eccentric, but it provides some beautiful imagery and art design. What sticks out to me in particular are the repeated use of wide shots featuring characters reflected in puddles, rivers, oceans and the like. Sometime the camera pans up to reveal the figures in the frame, other times the puddles and the subjects are present. There are some breathtaking landscapes here, featuring locations in dozens of countries. A strong variety between massive deserts, the great wall of china, mountains, palaces, etc. to top it off. Exotic costumes, especially the Black Bandit’s mask. Loved the black and white slow motion introduction also.

Obviously, Catinca Untaru is a talented actress, but I cannot imagine the amount of work and tools Singh put together to create an authentic chemistry with Lee Pace and reaction and engagement with the world around her. I read that her role was based around “spontaneous interactions” which is interesting. I cannot imagine her lines being scripted or improved: she’s a natural. Lee Pace undoubtedly sacrifices all personal awareness to get the best performance out of his costar. It’s a truly brilliant chemistry.

One thing I loved? Crying is crying. The Fall doesn’t fake it. It’s a unique experience you will not get anywhere else. There is no film like it, there will never another film like it.

Yeah, I teared up at the end.

I heard Kate Nash’s first album Made of Bricks back when it first came out in 2007, and I’ve been hooked ever since. Since I had the album virtually on repeat, it got boring quickly: leaving me searching endlessly for a close substitute. My Best Friend is You came out last night. I popped that shit in, closed my eyes, turned up the volume and went through as much as I could before sleeping for an 8AM class.

Again, I don’t know jack about music, I don’t know what makes a song good or bad, or how to even describe the songs and musicians I like. But this album, I absolutely love how playful it is. There are all these melodies that feel so disjointed in their performance, but sequential in it’s form. The vocals, sometimes split into two different recordings completely unified and contrasting. Tip-toeing piano, and the dry sarcastic lyrics I have grown to love.

The track Mansion Song starts with a rant which seems more like the reciting of a satirical poem, and for some reason it makes me think of a freestyle rap. A depressing and inspiring sort of narrative which is highly relevant. Of course it transitions into a full fledged track in it’s own right but it is absolutely everything I believe delivered with an angry, shouting, raging voice speaking out against the rampant social circumstances.

Strip! Strip! Strip! And shag! Fuck! Get fucked in drag! And be impressed!

In case I found myself in a position where there would be a lack of updates during a prolonged period of time, I hatched a backup plan. I will copy and paste one of a few academic papers relating to film. The following was an assignment regarding an Orson Welles quote for a “film language” course. There were several topic choices to tackle; me having a massive ego, I deviated from the original prompt.

Known as one of the greatest American films of all time, Citizen Kane employs a mixture of styles, points of view, and time frames. Referring to the implementation of these techniques, Orson Welles once said: “The film should indicate a process, not a product”, and “The solution to the film should be essentially poetic”. In other words, Welles states that film should display a sense of lyrical poetry, an ecstatic truth which can only be obtained through the process and purpose behind a work.

In order to understand Welles’ description of film as a poetic process, it is necessary to understand poetry itself. Language simply spoken or written is not poetry. Poetry is the use of this language for a purpose: to create something linguistic. In other words, the creation of poem is a process with an ultimate goal. Like art itself, poetry can not be defined, but as Werner Herzog said:

You will find that in great poetry, when you listen or when you read a great poem, it will occur to you very abruptly that there is a deep enormous truth in this poem. And you feel like, illuminated. And you don’t have to analyze, and you don’t have to read lots of literature about this very poem. You just know it instantly.

The audience may not posses a full understanding of what a poem is, or may be unaware of the message or themes of a work. However, they will instantly recognize the exquisite nature of it because of the way it has been crafted.

Film as a “process” works in the same way. When a filmmaker puts together a film with an aspiration, they are essentially exerting a sense of truth into their product. This is because the purpose affects the development, which determines the direction of every creative aspect of a film. Through the “process”, a sense of poetry is immediately recognized by the audience. For instance, Wong Kar Wai’s In the Mood for Love, is far from a realist picture. Christopher Doyle’s cinematography is carefully executed; no lights, shadows, or colors are placed without cause. There is a lack of physical contact between the between the characters, but Wong Kar Wai succeeds in putting together a picture which is clouded with an unexplainable chemistry. The viewers may not be able to explain it, but they can feel a sort of poetry in motion.

A “process” also requires some sort of substantial effort or planning. It is easy for a filmmaker to be caught up in purpose and the intrinsic process. That by itself does not make the work “essentially poetic”. Douglas Gordon’s 24 Hour Psycho was made with the best intentions, and is said to have themes of “recognition and repetition, time and memory, complicity and duplicity, authorship and authenticity, darkness and light” by The Guardian. Nonetheless, it is Psycho stretched out to twenty-four hours.

One could suspect Welles’ comment promoted formalistic film making, as his films were controlled precisely and included a wide variety of techniques. On the other hand, Hoop Dreams, lacks a controlled purpose or process, other than filming the lives of two teenagers for several years. Little to no techniques are employed, and there is a lack of control in the shooting of the film. The structure itself is determined in the editing room, which highlights the only true “process” in the production. Regardless, the “poetic solution” must be found rather than observed. Hoop Dreams is essentially spoken language, not poetry. It is difficult to discern whether or not Welles was criticizing cinéma vérité, which is meant to be “direct”, instead of blatantly meaningful.

In contrast, a film that indicates a “product”, is made without the motivation of creating poetry. A common example of this type of cinema, would be the contemporary Bollywood musicals, crafted simply to appeal to a mass audience. Om Shanti Om, is filled with elaborate choreography and a catchy soundtrack, however the high production values are contributing to a synthetic piece. It is meant only to amuse the audience, especially with a number that features many of Bollywood’s most prominent performers – not to mention the controversy surrounding it’s likely plagiarism. It’s artificial play of delight and ecstasy may allure viewers, but Om Shanti Om, is nothing more than a “product”. There is an elaborate film making process behind it, but it is only meant to sell.

Orson Welles statements regarding the mixtures of styles, points of view, and time frames in Citizen Kane may not be clear. In spite of that, he describes a rough boundary which distinguishes between film as a “product” primarily meant to sell, and film as a “process” which contributes to an “essentially poetic solution”. Through a purpose and an effective filmmaking “process”, a cinematic work can inherit the qualities of great poetry.

Photo used without permission by David Stewart

Robert Culp is dead.

Before attending a Bill Cosby book signing for Come On People, I viewed the film Hickey and Boggs, starring Bill Cosby and Robert Culp (who also directed), written by Walter Hill of The Warriors fame and bought a poster to get autographed. Most people know the acting duo from the television series I Spy, which unfortunately, I have never seen. But, I liked the film. It was a bit hard to watch due to the terrible transfer; looked like it was copied straight off a VHS with bunch of grain added tossed on it. I haven’t seen it in a while so I can’t write up a comprehensive review or anything.

Cosby didn’t sign it. Still a nice guy though.

Two years later, Robert Culp was on the New York Comic-Con guest list. I wouldn’t consider myself a fan of him or spending $20 for a signature either. Even though I don’t like video games, I liked his work in Half Life 2, plus I spent $25 for this vintage poster anyway. I said, what the hell, what can I lose?

Since he was sitting at his table all weekend, I waited behind a two person line – myself being the last. I felt a little guilty not having seen I Spy. What was just supposed to be a quick signature ended up being one of my more memorable collector experiences. A tired, aged man; a humble guy with a dead career (harsh, I know). He had that aura, living each moment of his life with the pace of a single breath.

I said, “you know, I asked Mr. Cosby to sign it but he wouldn’t.”

“Really? That man bewilders me sometimes…”

It wasn’t any more than 5 minutes, but we had a small talk. He seemed surprised, he hadn’t seen an original poster of his only feature film in a long time. A little discussion about Hickey and Boggs, the quality of the transfer, even asking if I had even seen the film. William Katt, who starred along with Culp in The Greatest American Hero television program, had an adjacent table but no line either. Katt had never seen it, Culp told him about the editor, David Berlatsky, and how Hickey and Boggs taught him everything he needed to know about editing the sort of crime films throughout his career.

The man deserved better, he had something going with Hickey and Boggs, something the movie-going public ignored. Hell, it never even had a proper consumer release.

He folded the poster back up and said jokingly:

“Maybe Cosby will sign it, next time you see him.”

“Maybe.”

I shook his hand.

That was my encounter with Robert Culp.

Caché is the only other Haneke film I had seen. Though I enjoyed it immensely, I was a bit skeptical about highly stylistic lack of energy, which is relevant considering it’s subject matter. Still, I was afraid his body of work would rely heavily on this distinguished approach: an over-reliance on translucency and minimalism. Kind of like how M. Night’s body of work seems solid after viewing one or two films, but you immediately realize that they lack contrasting core structures. Twists and all. Sure, they work the first few times, but come on. Shyamalan’s cannot efficiently build on any narrative foundations than the one he started with.

Thankfully, La Pianiste failed to confirm my fears.

I don’t know what to say. What a fascinating piece of art. Haneke has an uncanny ability to delve into the human persona through film language. He knows exactly what knobs he is turning and why.

Through Erika (Isabelle Huppert), Haneke takes us deep inside her mind. He shows us the cross and lack thereof between sexuality and art. The fantasies and the frustrations. The fantasy and the reality.

As cliche as it sounds, great cinema has the ability to show instead of telling. It triggers the audience’s mind, seamlessly forcing them to process information without treating like idiots; without screaming the words out; unfortunately television does this way too often. Through body language, context and a Cannes winning performance alone, we learn about how Erika models herself, her true personality, and the attitudes and the affect of the people surrounding her. The uptight posture of this woman, looking out the window, scolding a student, where we can discern the satisfaction and pleasure on her face. The way she paces down the indoor shopping center, keeping her face forward as she focused only on the destination, she ignores the crowds of people surrounding her, and the obnoxious sounds streaming out of the arcade with it’s flashing lights – only to find her in an adult boutique. Her posture when Walter reads the letter she wrote due to her own embarrassment; the insecurity and shyness of a normally outspoken person. And ultimately, the stunningly gaping look on her face when she realizes her fantasies aren’t exactly what she made them out to be.

The other actors performances are far from short of Huppert’s, but I don’t want to spend too much time on this post.

Most of Caché is composed of a lingering, static camera, allowing the audience to become the idea that drives the protagonist mad. Haneke made us the watcher. Similarly La Pianiste has it’s share of dragging, static shots. On the other hand, we are not watchers. The camera moves, it cuts. It’s much like Jia Zhangke’s Still Life, with it’s slowly dissolving angles and cuts. But they aren’t films with a series of 10 minute shots. They use a variety of wide shots and close ups according to feeling. Haneke understands the important of the central content, actors and story. Most directors, including myself, would argue that an actor or actress must deliver according to their feelings. They must act, and speak when they feel it is a right time. The editing of La Pianiste is like an actor. Forget this whole notion about, you know, cut to close up for emotional impact. It’s not about how frenzies or subtle the scene is, or how the shots work together in the final cut. It’s about when it truly, legitimately, feels right to cut, change angles, get closer or father away. Watch the scene with Isabelle Huppert and Benoît Magimel in the bathroom to see what I mean.

Also note the strikingly cold and genuine cinematography provided by Christian Berger. He deserved the Oscar for The White Ribbon, I don’t care what anyone says about Avatar.

There is a lot to be said about the implementation of music in the featured performances and beyond: Schubert, Bach, Beetoven, Chopin, Rachmaninov.

That’s what I wanted to share.

Everything about this film revolves around the emotions within the relationship between these two characters. Art, sex, reality, fantasy and the like.

Terrible trailer, couldn’t find a better one. This will have to make do.

Stumbled across this book review which made me crack up.

There is nothing wrong with him or his work.

I just don’t like Alfred Hitchcock.

Every time I have alluded to my distaste, I have been barraged with comments questioning my status as a filmmaker and my appreciation of cinema, simply due to Hitchcock’s prominence in film history. I understand that he is one of the greats and that his revolutionary use of technique (camera movement, sound, etc) have created masterfully created suspense (hence “The Master of Suspense”) and contributed to cinema as a whole.

Those techniques are precisely why I dislike Alfred Hitchcock. Most film scholars would admit that he emphasized fancy spectacles to win audiences everywhere, and that his ability to work with actors is less than stellar. This is not in any way, shape or form bad – considering the narrative contexts, camera techniques, visuals, and suspense employed in his work. That is exactly what I dislike about popular cinema.

Hitchcock’s films accentuate technique over content in it’s purest form.

They live on gimmicks.

The only thing he cares about is what he is accomplishing by moving a camera along a track, the pace of the cutting and the use of sound to play with the audience. Only what you can hear, and what you can see, never diving beyond the surface of human emotions. The only character Hitchcock cares about is the camera.

By no means am I coupling Psycho with Resident Evil: Apocalypse (the later uses the popular over the head turn, tracking shot scare), both of which rely on action and suspense. I am not a  fan of films whose narrative structure exists only as a shell for the presentation and entertainment; a film such as Enter the Dragon does a damn good job of it, likewise, Hitchcock was a master of this sort of filmmaking. He found effective narrative shells which do not seek to spoil the audience with guns and babes. I am also not denying his ability to quickly and efficiently process information, such as the introduction of James Stewart’s character in Rear Window.

Yet the same people who would admit these factors insist on my being borderline insane, once more, because his name is embedded into cinematic history until the death of the form. It is personal preference. I prefer the likes of filmmakers such as Lars von Trier who delve deep into what I believe to be the essential core of each and every work: actual story and actors performances. Realism over formalism. I believe in cinema as a extension of reality, an attempted coverage of sorts, not this formation of a created reality – this  world where camera filters and post processing rule.

Call me a hypocrite because of my idolization of formalist filmmakers such as Ingmar Bergman. The difference between Bergman and Hitchcock is not their emphasis on visuals and technique, rather this simple fact. Hitchcock made films because he wanted to entertain people, hence his use of suspense to create wild rides.

And that’s not bad! There’s no problem with that!

I just don’t like it.

Take a look at North by Northwest. Fantastic, heart pounding sequences throughout. Danger around every corner, full investment in the fate of Cary Grant’s character. It is a wild ride, but it acts a shell for the action. The ending alone proves my point. Thornhill spends several minutes holding onto the hands of Eve Kendell, desperately trying to save her life. The bad guy gets shot down. Thornhill pulls her up, cut to five second shot of Kendell sitting on bed with Thornhill on a train. Cut to 5 second shot of train as the words “THE END” appears in bold text.

The ending is sudden. If I don’t like that, than I must be a hypocrite because I loved The French Connection, whose ending is also quite sudden. Actually, it doesn’t even have an epilogue, whereas Hitchcock’s film does. Again, there is a notable difference between the endings of the two films. North by Northwest‘s sudden and brief epilogue is brief and sudden because it signals the end of the action, suspense, and entertainment; the only element the film serves to provide. Therefore, there is no point in continuing the film, why not wrap it up?

It works.

But not my cup of tea.

I appreciate Alfred Hitchcock’s work, he creates for the self, the most important function of the artist. He will always remain as one of the greatest auteur’s who has ever lived.

And I’ve entertained by him.

But I don’t like him.

UPDATE:

Found this video about content vs. technique. I must state that I am not one of those individuals who looks exclusively at story, or ignores the importance of executing the story.

I just finished spending the last two days taking and editing photographs.

First off, I shot a few pieces of artwork for a friend’s portfolio. This was my first time shooting something like this, but the final result was exactly as I expected. Set up was a piece of black foamcore and poster board, along with a basic desklamp and a $10 clamp light with 120 watt daylight balanced CFL. Lots of heavy Photoshop work to eliminate non black space.

A few hours later, I shot a party by request of my friend Michael, celebrating the birthday of his girlfriend. This was my second time using my Vivitar 285HV, I had much less issues with underexposure than last time. I opted for a different tone during post processing. I’m pretty satisfied overall. Of course, there was little to no light so auto-focus was completely out the question. There was barely enough light to focus manually; most of what I captured ended up blurry.

You can check them out on my Flickr account.