Last night I took the time to re-watch Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. When I had initially seen the film a year ago, I left the film slightly let down. I had loved the original, seeing it multiple times in the theater. This second chapter seemed to lack the spark of excitement from the first adventure, and was merely a showcase for several huge action set pieces.
But a second time around gave me the chance to focus on many subtle aspects the filmmakers put into this film. It is so jam-packed and rollicking that they are easy to miss when you first watch. Much like the original, clues about the mystery are given non-verbally and through the actors' reactions to events/dialogue. A shifted gaze, or slight furrowing of the brow shows so much.
Art (which film is supposed to be) requires multiple interactions with the piece to foster introspection and contemplation. Great art allows one to find new details and learn more with each interaction. While I am not saying that Pirates is high art or anything, I do want to recognize and applaud the filmmakers. Gore Verbinski and his crew have created a deep, twisting experience with these films; a product that rewards rewatching and rethinking. From its unique and rough visual style, to its (sometimes) nuanced acting.
The details don't matter for this post, because what all this got me thinking about was the nature of the film industry in our nation. Time was you could count on a movie playing for at least a month, if not several. Now, anything less than blockbuster is immediately gone after just a week or two. Sad, because we miss the chance to explore deeper by watching and rewatching some great artistic work.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
My Spidey Sense is Tingling
After talking with my brother at length last night, I decided to take the time to post some thoughts about a favorite movie franchise. Spider-Man!
I have always been a big Spidey fan, reading the comics, hoping for a faithful and creative movie adaptation. When the first Spider-Man was announced in 2001, I was beyond excited: I was pumped. I think I spent more time watching the preview trailer online than writing my undergraduate senior thesis (note to college students: don't do that.)
The first film took its time establishing the essential characters of the story: Peter, awkward yet diligent; MJ, fun, popular but with a true heart; Harry, awkward (in a shamed/defeated way; Aunt May, source of strength and love. More importantly than explaining who these people were, the film did an excellent job in exploring the relationships between the characters. This aspect of the story was essential to make a film faithful to the Spider-Man comic.
Spider-Man is a super-hero who's greatest power is his over-abundance of faith to his friends and family. He is a good boy. Whether it is helping his childhood bully (Flash Thompson) overcome his alcoholism or physically defending his greatest critic, J. Jonah Jameson, Peter Parker is a young man who superhumanly follows his moral code. In the comics, he is constantly conflicted by a desire to use his powers to help strangers and a need to take care of his loved ones.
This is why I enjoy the stories of Spider-Man and it is why the first Spidey film pleased me. Here the story had focused on dramatic moments rather than slam bang special effects (though there was plenty of that). And I think I understand how this happened.
Sam Raimi has long been a favorite director of mine, mainly for his daring and stubborn use of innovation. While creating his (in)famous Evil Dead trilogy, Mr. Raimi made due with the limited budget he had, creating 2x4 dollies and homemade rigs. He has what creative film people need to succeed: a visual style/dream that is buttressed by a keen technical sense.
Raimi's success, however, was mired by his love of slapstick and schlocky storytelling. Xena, Hercules, Army of Darkness, parts of Darkman. Mainly stages for exciting action, his work had little character development or substance. Some enjoy this and I can, when I'm in the mood. But it doesn't get you big budget films.
So Raimi started wearing suits on set and went small, directing less flashy films: the superb A Simple Plan, the muted For Love of The Game, and the thankfully short-titled The Gift. In all of these, he chooses a story about relationships and took the time to learn more about how to really pull a performance from an actor. These new skills, combined with his long history as a great visual director got him Spider-Man.
Since this was his first BIG film, Raimi focused even more, knowing that (in some way) his career was on the line. And he pulled it off to great acclaim.
Stay tuned for continued thoughts on Spider-Man 2 and 3.
I have always been a big Spidey fan, reading the comics, hoping for a faithful and creative movie adaptation. When the first Spider-Man was announced in 2001, I was beyond excited: I was pumped. I think I spent more time watching the preview trailer online than writing my undergraduate senior thesis (note to college students: don't do that.)
The first film took its time establishing the essential characters of the story: Peter, awkward yet diligent; MJ, fun, popular but with a true heart; Harry, awkward (in a shamed/defeated way; Aunt May, source of strength and love. More importantly than explaining who these people were, the film did an excellent job in exploring the relationships between the characters. This aspect of the story was essential to make a film faithful to the Spider-Man comic.
Spider-Man is a super-hero who's greatest power is his over-abundance of faith to his friends and family. He is a good boy. Whether it is helping his childhood bully (Flash Thompson) overcome his alcoholism or physically defending his greatest critic, J. Jonah Jameson, Peter Parker is a young man who superhumanly follows his moral code. In the comics, he is constantly conflicted by a desire to use his powers to help strangers and a need to take care of his loved ones.
This is why I enjoy the stories of Spider-Man and it is why the first Spidey film pleased me. Here the story had focused on dramatic moments rather than slam bang special effects (though there was plenty of that). And I think I understand how this happened.
Sam Raimi has long been a favorite director of mine, mainly for his daring and stubborn use of innovation. While creating his (in)famous Evil Dead trilogy, Mr. Raimi made due with the limited budget he had, creating 2x4 dollies and homemade rigs. He has what creative film people need to succeed: a visual style/dream that is buttressed by a keen technical sense.
Raimi's success, however, was mired by his love of slapstick and schlocky storytelling. Xena, Hercules, Army of Darkness, parts of Darkman. Mainly stages for exciting action, his work had little character development or substance. Some enjoy this and I can, when I'm in the mood. But it doesn't get you big budget films.
So Raimi started wearing suits on set and went small, directing less flashy films: the superb A Simple Plan, the muted For Love of The Game, and the thankfully short-titled The Gift. In all of these, he chooses a story about relationships and took the time to learn more about how to really pull a performance from an actor. These new skills, combined with his long history as a great visual director got him Spider-Man.
Since this was his first BIG film, Raimi focused even more, knowing that (in some way) his career was on the line. And he pulled it off to great acclaim.
Stay tuned for continued thoughts on Spider-Man 2 and 3.
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