Thursday, January 15, 2009

Cinema Paradiso

Watching Cinema Paradiso was, for me, like going to my favorite restaurant, ordering something new and then liking it just as much as my stand-by entrée. What I mean is watching this foreign film definitely felt different than watching a typical Hollywood film, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

The narrative bucks the classical Hollywood film model outlined in David Bordwell’s “Classical Hollywood Cinema: Narrational Principles and Procedures.” Traditionally, the classical narrative has “psychologically defined individuals who struggle to solve a clear-cut problem or to attain specific goals.” The story ends with a resolution of the conflict, a clear victory or defeat and clear achievement or failure of attaining the film’s main goals. I would argue that none of this holds true for Cinema Paradiso. This movie, for me, was more about the experience and the journey than the attainment of goals.

Clearly, the town movie house, Cinema Paradiso, is the structure around which the all the action is anchored. Yes, Toto is the protagonist, but the movie would lose the loose narrative thread it has and collapse if Cinema Paradiso was removed. And, as the protagonist, Toto has no overarching goal. Sure, there are mini goals along the way: convince Alfredo to teach him how to be a projectionist and win the heart of Elena are the two that come to mind. But neither of these are the main focus of the plot. The only goal Alfredo seems to have is to keep Toto from turning into himself, but even that goal fades in-and-out; it is not a consistent focus like you would see in a classical Hollywood film. The main focus and “goal” of Toto, Alfredo and all the townspeople is to go to Cinema Paradiso each night and see as many movies as possible.

Another huge element of classical Hollywood cinema that is missing in Cinema Paradiso is the idea of a deadline. Deadlines normally drive the narrative, and the climax centers around the achievement or failure to meet the deadline. In fact, Alfredo takes a direct jab at the idea of a deadline when he tells Toto his story about a man who waited under a princess’s window. The princess instructed him to wait there 100 days, but the man inexplicably left on the 99th night, and Alfredo had no idea why. This is the writers poking fun at the idea that all things in film must be deadline-oriented. Evidently, in their opinion, this idea is ludicrous. Regardless, it was enjoyable to watch a film that broke from the traditional Hollywood mold.

Along more thematic lines, the Hollywood idea of love is also different in this film. The main “love story,” per say, is that between the people (mainly Toto, but the whole town participated as well) and the films shown in Cinema Paradiso. Toto was absolutely enthralled by film when he was a boy; he collected the discarded scrapes of film like they were precious gems. The filmmaker demonstrates this to us not through words (Toto never says "I love film!") but through actions. For example, there are several close-up shots of Toto's face with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in a smile as he stares out at us. But, thanks to the beam of light from the film projection room behind him, we realize he is not staring at us, but staring at the movie screen.

It was this love for film that brought Toto and Alfredo together. Their love is of the father-son type; Toto’s father died in the war, and Alfredo never had children. There is a third love plotline, the one between Toto and Elena, and this one is tragic. It is as if Elena is his one true love (an opinion I don’t subscribe to in real life) and when he loses her, he loses the capability to love again. His mother has picked up on this – she tells him at the end that she realizes that every time she calls, there is a different woman in his bed. At the end, though, his true love for Alfredo and the movies returns with the montage of love scenes that Alfredo has been forced to edit out of movies years before.

Cinema Paradiso
evokes a lot of conflicting emotions at the end. Nostalgia is a major buzzword for this movie, and the way it is treated changes throughout. One filmic element the director employs is the simple, childlike melody that plays throughout the film. There are no words to pollute its purity, only a simple melody line that could have been lifted from a child's lullaby. Alfredo, however, speaks of nostalgia like it is a temptation to be avoided at all costs; he tells Toto when he leaves to never think of the people of the community of Giancaldo and to never come back. Alfredo even goes to the extreme as to tell Toto’s mother not to tell him that he died so he won’t come back. And when Toto does come back, he definitely wrestles with nostalgia, but he does not give into it and let the past become a crutch for him. We see his mental struggle in the scene where he revisits his old bedroom. With the simple melody in the background and the close-ups on him tenderly feeling his childhood possessions, it is conveyed to us that he is enjoying thinking about his past. But by not stepping in and saving the condemned theater (he clearly had the money to do so if he wanted), he kept his word to Alfredo and did not let his past hold him back. Nevertheless, the love he once shared with Alfredo and film survives even though that time period is long gone.

We can all feel nostalgic when watching this movie. The idea of wondering through life not strapped to a deadline with a childlike innocence can remind everyone of a time when their life was peaceful and more enjoyable. It also speaks to the power as film as a medium; it has the ability to transport us to another place and time even though we have not physically moved anywhere. We can all travel back to our own Cinema Paradiso, even if it is only for two hours.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The power of film


I believe that all people are very impressionable. We can very easily be swayed to one side of an argument that we previously dismissed as ludicrous if it is re-presented in a different way. It does not take much for us to back off our strong stance and become more open-minded. Once this happens, we are very vulnerable to great orators and their ideas, regardless of what they are actually saying.

My belief is illustrated perfectly in Fight Club. Tyler manages to slowly build an army of regular men and convince them to go along with Project Mayhem and bomb 10 buildings. If someone had just relayed this story to me verbally, I probably would have been very skeptical. But because it was relayed to me visually on film, I was able to see the process unwind for myself. Fight Club allowed me to experience the unfolding of a transformation that I would have deemed preposterous had I not been able to see it with my own eyes.

This is the central power of film: it allows us to see the world in ways which we would never consider. Filmmakers present us with hypothetical situations and turn them into reality. Take a normal working man with an affinity for IKEA and turn him into an underground bar fighter who wants to create anarchy and completely loses his identity in the process? Check. Take sweet gentile giant suffering from testicular cancer and turn him into a nameless soldier who is willing to die on a mission to destroy a coffee shop? Check. This list could go on indefinitely. Great filmmakers make us think differently after seeing their movie; they permanently change our perception of the world.

As Walter Benjamin suggests at the end of the fourth section of his article “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” film is definitely based on politics versus being based on ritual. There is nothing ritualistic about a movie – there is no tradition behind it, and one screening is not unique from another. Film is also lacking an aura in the way Benjamin defines it – the unique appearance of a distance, however close it may be. We come as physically close to a film as possible without actually being inside it. We see the scenes as the camera sees them; as Duke University film professor Negar Mottahedeh suggests, we become the camera. We hear what it hears and see what it sees. We have no tradition to adhere to when we analyze the film; we fall back on politics, the interrelationships between the people, groups, or organizations in a particular area of life especially insofar as they involve power and influence or conflict.

I have already said that film causes us to think about the world differently than we did before and that we, as people, are very easily influenced when presented with evidence that appears convincing. So by combining the two ideas, it is easy to see the power filmmakers have. I would argue that they are some of the most power people in society today because they hold the means to influence the masses. Benjamin does not give this idea the consideration it merits; he just brushes it aside by saying “We do not deny that in some cases today’s films can also promote revolutionary criticism of social conditions.” I can think of two great recent examples of filmmakers significantly impacting society. The first comes from my favorite documentary, Super Size Me by Morgan Sprulock. Spurlock only ate McDonalds for 30 days and always ordered it super sized if he was asked. The public outcry from the film caused McDonalds to eliminate super sizing from their menu. The second example is from a much more popular documentary from the same year, Fahrenheit 9/11. Michael Moore put Bush under more public pressure than he had faced up to that time. These two filmmakers caused the public to see situations in new light and stirred them enough to force and demand change in their world, all thanks to the power of film.

Films are tools for many things: education, entertainment, but above all, for influence. I enjoy films because they engage me and challenge me. They definitely have to potential to change the way society feels about some part of life today.