It (2017)

By Saša Avramović

Alternative titles: It: Chapter One a.k.a. It: Part 1 - The Losers' Club

Director: Andrés Muschietti
Screenplay: Cary Fukunaga, Chase Palmer, Gary Dauberman
Starring: Jaeden Lieberher, Bill Skarsgård, Finn Wolfhard, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Chosen Jacobs, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Nicholas Hamilton
Cinematography: Chung-hoon Chung
Music: Benjamin Wallfisch

Stephen King's 'It' is one of the ten defining books of my life. The enjoyment it gave me when I first read it as a kid, plus on every subsequent re-read was immense. Its blend of coming of age and horror elements is done with great skill and passion for the themes and you can feel that from every page of the book. That special feeling when you read a book and the book starts to behave like your friend or guide to the unexpected is one of a kind. It helped also that I lived (and still live) in a village with surroundings not very different from the one described in the book. The woods, the river, the passages underneath the land surface, and gullies and streams at the surface. I and my friends were camping in the woods, making wood tents out of pine trees and other available materials. It was great. But most importantly, when it comes to themes, I find King's work universal in terms of perfectly capturing the growing-up process, while experiencing the first traces of death and the rotten world before your eyes.

The first adaptation of 'It' came in the form of a mini-series directed by Tommy Lee Wallace in 1990. I always held it dear to my heart, although it's evident that mini-series have lots of problems (sloppy direction in the second part and downer ending being the most obvious ones). Tim Curry was wonderful as Pennywise and the kids were excellent too, but this story needed a film format as much more fitting for its themes.

Enter Andrés Muschietti, the director of the pretty weak horror movie 'Mama'. That was the main reason for my initial concern about the quality of the movie. But with every new promo material my expectations grew, and I am really happy to say that I was initially wrong. Very wrong!
First thing I need to say - the new kids are amazing - so spontaneous, so natural. Yes, the young cast from the mini-series was very fitting in their roles, but the new ones are so great that I now cannot imagine anyone else in their parts. I completely believed them and trusted in their friendship, in front of my eyes were not actors but Bill, Bev, Stan, Ritchie, Mike, Eddie and Ben, the whole Losers Club. I cheered at their successes, I feared for them, and I wanted them to win. Also, I shed a tear during a couple of really emotional scenes. 'It' alternates very successfully between hard-hitting, tear-inducing scenes (and manages to never feel cheap or manipulative in a bad way during these scenes) and scenes of happiness and pure terror. All the supporting actors, both kids, and adults are inhabiting their characters completely and without pulling back. And Bill Skarsgård as demonic Pennywise took a different but very interesting path, playing the performance of a hypnotizer who leads children to their death, with more creepiness and horror than humor, but still taking enough of both. The very good script helps the actors a lot in that process.

New 'It' is a wonderful coming of age horror-adventure. I am glad to say that Muschietti improved himself a great deal - he gave space to every character to develop, with all their inner torments, blending their inner horror with the horror of Derry perfectly, which is one of the main strengths of King's book too. King is great at blending real-life horrors with supernatural horrors (in 'It', but also even more in 'Pet Sematary' novel for example) and Muschietti made it work on the big screen very well. The boundaries between the ancient evil lurking inside the brain of the town and its (older) inhabitants are almost completely blurred in this case and it brilliantly fits the themes of the movie. In 'It', the monster(s) is/are everywhere, in the sewer, in the family, in the school, the whole town is full of them and our heroes are slowly realizing the true nature of the everpresent evil of the town and its inhabitants and deciding to fight It in all its shapes. Real life and supernatural, personal and collective, they blur together in the waking nightmare that paralyzes the whole town, alternating between the moments of terror seen and felt only by kids (the adults are already part of It) and the real-life terror of dysfunctional families, child abuse and the constant neglecting by the adults - by those who are meant to care for and protect the children in the first place ("Then, one day, you realize that's not true.").

Horror scenes are realized with great skill. What the mini-series mostly failed to achieve (especially in the second part) and Muschietti did very effectively is evoking horror by setting an ordinary situation that suddenly morphs into its nightmarish version. That's of course an old trick but Muschietti made it work perfectly. And since the titular antagonist feeds on children's fears, there are some very creepy scenes of them confronting the demons of their tortured minds. Some people complained about the amount and the quality of the jump scares, but I never felt that they are out of place or wrongly used. These scenes are shown from the point of view of the main characters, and considering that the monster "hypnotizes" them in these moments, creating the space for its attack, these scenes always felt justified and in place. Also, some other horror scenes, especially the ones near the end showing the psychological and literal battle between It and the kids are perfectly realized. CGI is smartly used (again especially near the end of the movie), never overused and it adds to instead of taking out of the final experience.

 The scenography is extremely well done (with the house of It being the most impressive) and creates another layer of creepiness or 80's style adventure look, depending on the situation. Cinematography is another strength of the movie. It's done by Chung-hoon Chung, best known as the director of photography for Chan-wook Park's movies. Many of the horror scenes are set during the bright day, which is a smart move that returns us to the golden 70s and 80s when the great masters of horror filmed some very effective horror scenes during the bright day. Also, when it comes to the look of the movie, the period of the late eighties (1988 and 1989) is perfectly reconstructed. The film also has a perfect sense of time and space and plays wisely with all its visual and verbal elements. Visual elements are fused with passing time and verbal parts are used in smaller but effective amounts. We have movie marquees for 'Batman', the fifth part of 'A Nightmare on Elm Street, 'Lethal Weapon 2', posters for 'Beetlejuice' and 'Gremlins' and a picture of a monster car on Eddie's T-shirt (possible reference to 1983 John Carpenter's movie 'Christine', adapted from Stephen King's novel). Also at one point, Richie says, referring to Bev: "Who invited Molly Ringwald into the group?” (one of the funniest lines from the movie), which is of course a reference to one of the main stars of John Hughes movies from the same era. Also, the music by various bands is cleverly used (with New Kids on the Block being very funny and nice touch :) ). The original score by Benjamin Wallfisch alternates between very creepy and John Williams-like, adding layers of very effective horror and 80's nostalgia.

I would have loved it if the movie contained bigger hints at the origins of Its evil, rooted in Lovecraftian cosmic horror. There are a couple of hints near the end of the movie, but I would have loved to see more of that, because it gives It the wider implications and makes its evil more Lovecraftian - that was another strength of King's book, making It part of the cosmic terror existing beyond any superficial and banal, being truly dangerous and universal. Also, as a part of that mythology, the turtle Maturin is referenced a couple of times in the movie, but not much. I would have liked to see more of that. All that is very well explained in the 'Ritual of Chüd' scene in the book (which was one of the scenes initially planned for the movie, but never filmed because of budgetary reasons). It would be great to see Ritual of Chüd and other similar scenes in the second part of the movie, in the form of flashbacks. Also, since the director's cut on DVD and Blu-Ray will be 15 minutes longer, there is a strong possibility of including more scenes of Its background (a background that does not destroy the character, which was often the case in similar situations, but enriches it). All in all, the goods that this movie delivers are too big so I don't consider this a big problem (and I am certainly not one of those "the movie must be faithful to the book" type of people, on the contrary), only suggesting a thing that can (and probably will be) more explored.

'It' is an amazing experience. I watched it with a friend at the cinema. Apart from five or six of us twenty- and thirty-somethings, the cinema was full of kids and teenagers. They liked the movie a lot (Bev got the biggest applause for her stabbing It in the head). When the movie was over, one kid stood up and said very loud, so that everybody can hear him: "This is the best horror movie I've ever seen!" While that's not true in my case, I can certainly understand where he is coming from. 'It' is one of the best horror movies of recent years and the success it enjoys is completely justified by its qualities.
 

"They're gazebos, mom! They're bullshit!"
Eddie Kaspbrak

4.5 / 5

Obsessions - A Michael Mann Retrospective

By Reece Beckett

As people, we all become obsessed with certain things. Whether it be hobbies, passions, pastimes, we can all lose ourselves to what we find the most interesting. Michael Mann’s cinema seems to be the epitome of obsessions portrayed in cinema. Many of his films seem to have some of the same beats, and even if it isn’t broken you don’t need to fix it, I can’t help but notice these repeated beats - these obsessions.

 
THE JERICHO MILE (1979)

Mann’s cinematic exploration begins with The Jericho Mile, which is an interesting though quite stylistically flat film about a man in prison, who runs around the prison track constantly. An upsetting film as a man so desperate to run, to be free, is bolted down and trapped. As I said, stylistically the film is quite bare, which means that the story is the real focus, and thankfully the story is quite interesting and unique. The racial commentary is also interesting, though it isn’t explored too deeply, and it’s also an upsetting look at how one moment can define an entire lifetime. The ending scene has quite a kick to it. Though it is one of the few Mann films I don’t consider phenomenal, the film is still very much enjoyable and entertaining.

 
THIEF (1981)
 
Mann’s Thief, released in 1981, 2 years after The Jericho Mile is generally known as Mann’s first film (as this was his first theatrical release, I assume). It is possibly the film where Mann’s style is clearest, his obsessions are evident in so many frames, and this ideology that is so noticeable in Thief is also noticeable through Mann’s entire filmography. There is the ideal of The American Dream, so intelligently mixed with the disturbing nature of his characters and yet - the audience feels such a sympathy for Frank in Thief, as we know he only wants what he had come to know as the ideal life (The American Dream). It’s a scary phenomenon to be afraid of a character, and to view them as a despicable criminal, but to also greatly contrast this with a Robin Hood-esque man who seems to want to escape this life of crime to live out his dream (an ideal explored further in Ferrara’s 1990 King Of New York). Frank is a no-holds-barred man, willing to sacrifice it all in order to have the woman, the money and the house, to live off of his own back and have no one to do anything for. Of course, these ideas are also apparent in Mann’s Heat, released 14 years later. The American Dream is the main focus of this film, and ultimately it is the takedown of that dream that makes it so enthralling. At the beginning, we see Frank as a con-man, a thief, and by the end we see him as a desperate dreamer... a man who once had his hands on the edge of the cliff, so close to securing the dream, but slipping... and thus, reinvention occurs. Frank becomes a new man.
Thief is an incredibly slick urban crime thriller, and one that highlights much of what is to come in Mann’s oeuvre.

 
THE KEEP (1983)
 
The Keep is the one Mann film that sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the rest. The film plays out as if it is supposed to be interpreted as a film about war trauma, and even has some phenomenal dialogue that fits in more with his later work, I mean, any film that has the dialogue “What drives people out in the middle of a stormy night?” “Dreams... nightmares.”, is an interesting one. It’s a fascinatingly odd film, one that I couldn’t take my eyes off of despite the fact that I had no idea what was going on. The film is utterly incomprehensible, but presents some interesting ideas that are easy to appreciate. I don’t have much to say on this one, seeing as it sticks out so much, but it is interesting nonetheless.

 
MANHUNTER (1986)
 
Manhunter was the second huge success of Mann’s career, after Thief. The film, which slips slightly under the radar now as most prefer its sequel, Silence Of The Lambs, is about the sacrifices made to protect others, a theme that comes out quite a lot throughout Mann’s work. A cop returns after being persuaded by a friend, and he must find a killer by speaking to another one. “Someone took a child and manufactured a monster.”, one character says, and I must admit that line had quite an impact on me. The film is dark, upsetting and tense, with a phenomenal sound design and a killer script. The final showdown in the film is one of the more memorable I’ve ever seen, with many of the shots sticking in my head for a long time after seeing the film. Sadly, Manhunter has become a bit of a cult classic now, as most view Lambs to be superior and so, Manhunter has lost some of its iconic status.
“Everything with you is seeing, isn’t it?” says one character, an ironic phrase to be heard in a film. Later on, there is a stunning scene where a woman strokes a tiger, and she trusts her hand to slowly glide across the coat of the beast, wholly trusting it and those around her.
If only she could do the same with everyone.

LA TAKEDOWN (1989)
 
L.A Takedown is an unintentionally fascinating look at how budget can effect a film. Seeing as low budget seems to garner more credit for itself nowadays than anything else, I find it absolutely fascinating that this film, the original that makes Heat technically a remake, is so different and yet so similar to Heat. Though most of the story beats are exactly the same, the difference in style and technical work from LA Takedown to Heat is a fascinating study in how much a bigger budget can do for a film.
There is also a great difference between the character of Vincent between LA Takedown and Heat, which is just as interesting as the contrast between the films themselves. Both films show that Vincent Hanna is fast on his feet, quick thinking and determined, unable to focus on anything but his work, however what I find interesting is that he seems to borderline on genuine anger management issues at times in LA Takedown, and goes much too far at some points which adds more friction to his already struggling marriage.
Whilst LA Takedown loses much of the more philosophical and contrast based greatness that shines in Heat, it’s still an interesting watch wherein you see the style of Mann develop, slowly starting to tear away from the more urban films to his bigger films that were yet to come, with a grander scale. If anything highlights an absolute obsession with an idea, or a group of ideas, it is the repetition of them, and Mann repeated them 6 years later with Heat.
“It consumes you. I was in for sharing, this isn’t sharing... this is leftovers.”

 
LAST OF THE MOHICANS (1992)
 
Last Of The Mohicans is one of the Mann films that stands out as a little odd. Mann... making a period drama? However, once you get past the confusion, The Last Of The Mohicans is really quite a good film. Despite my personal troubles with the period piece genre, I must admit that I found myself quite captivated by the film due to its character development and smaller scope. Rather than a ten minute exposition dump at the beginning of the film, Mann slowly drips information into the film, creating a brilliant enigmatic narrative hook for viewers who don’t know the history of what happened and creating an impressively honest portrait of America in the 1700’s for those who do know the historical background to the story of the film.
Daniel Day Lewis is just another iconic Mann front-runner turned memorable Mann character in the film, and though I don’t recognise much of the cast at all, they all give good performances and keep the film feeling realistic. The cinematography is gorgeous, too, and in keeping with Mann’s typical trademarks, the film goes on to say quite a bit through rather subtle suggestions. Mann creates a sweeping epic through his smaller scope via contrasting the small, dialogue driven scenes with larger set pieces of destruction and chaos that really make the war quite petrifying rather than entertaining (a Mann trademark is making action frightening rather than entertaining), and it also turns into quite a saddening portrait of a country that has become a victim to war to such a point that I couldn’t help but think of how the country could have thrived if these opposing countries were to simple make an agreement, and the repetition of the opening shot as the ending shot, as if all this war and pain were for nothing ultimately, is a harrowing revelation. It’s a fascinating film and though I found it to be one of Mann’s weaker efforts, it was still a captivating and great technical work that managed to have me invested in a genre that typically I struggle very much to care for.
“You stay alive, no matter what occurs!”

 
HEAT (1995)
 
Now for the big one. Released in 1995, three years after The Last Of The Mohicans, Mann’s Heat is generally considered his crowning achievement, and anyone who sees it will understand why that is. Anyone can enjoy this film, thoroughly, as there is simply so much to take from it. There is the philosophy of the characters, Vincent Hanna who is determined to do what he deems right, McCauley who has his very strict ideology on not growing attached to anything “you wouldn’t walk away from in 30 seconds when you feel the heat coming around the corner.”, and even the side characters provide interesting pieces to the puzzle from time to time, one that particularly sticks with me being when one of the men working with McCauley says that “the action is the juice.”, regarding the heists. Of course, if you don’t want to look into it as far as philosophy, you don’t need to, and you can sit back and enjoy the insanely engulfing spectacle of the film which thrills with the incredible set design and cinematography. There is one scene in particular that really strikes me other than the epic action scenes and the iconic diner scene with the two men meeting, and that is when we see Hanna chasing after McCauley, and the song New Dawn Fades (in this case, covered by Moby) plays in the background. The camera whizzes around, with as much energy as the audience at this point, the epic guitar riffs slide into the story and the thrill of what may come next is one of the greatest adrenaline rushes one can have in cinema. Finally, Hanna catches up and offers McCauley a coffee, and the iconic diner scene comes together.
Of course, this scene is iconic for a reason. That reason being that it is a masterful pairing of two of the greatest actors ever, some of the greatest dialogue ever and a contrast so strong that one simply will be taken in by it. The two men, sat opposite one another, and they explain their principles and differences. McCauley describes that “I am never going back.”, and that he does “what I do best”. “So, you never wanted a regular type life?”, asks Hanna. McCauley laughs, jokingly saying “What the fuck is that? Barbecues and ball games?”. Hanna begins to open up, he mentions his struggles with his family, which have been created due to chasing “guys like you”, to which McCauley replies with the main philosophy of the film, “don’t let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat.”. The men, now equal, despite their differences. Mann’s philosophy, all suddenly tied together, his obsession with contrast, with good and bad guys, with his characters, with the falsehood of The American Dream... they suddenly all come together, and this occurs throughout the entirety of Heat, which certainly makes it a masterpiece, and, in my opinion, the single greatest crime film ever crafted.
The film is also Mann’s most technically profound. The score is filled with gorgeous music, as is the soundtrack, particularly from Brian Eno and Moby. I particularly love the use of a Moby cover of Joy Division’s New Dawn Fades and also the ending score track called God Moving Over The Face Of The Waters, which stands out to me as one of the single most beautiful scores ever made. The cinematography is insane and the style pops, it’s a melancholic yet incredibly tense and exciting film and one that simply remains unmatched by any American film in history.

 
THE INSIDER (1999)
 
The Insider is another Mann film that takes a slight departure from his typical style. The film is a tense political thriller, one bursting with emotion throughout, and very much an anti-capitalist look at journalism and protecting your family. Notice that once again, Jeffrey Wigand begins the film holding onto The American Dream, and throughout the film it is slowly ripped away from him, however, this time it is ripped away by the truth, it is taken for a good cause... but that leaves the man himself no less beaten down. “You are important to a lot of people”, Lowell Bergman assures a distraught, possibly even suicidal Wigand... a man who started with it all, but ended with nothing, and ironically a pairing with Lowell Bergman that sees Bergman end just fine, if not redefined, reborn. It’s an upsetting look at how capitalism squashes the good out of people, for example the pressure getting to the CBS workers in the third act leads to them caving in, and they themselves know just how wrong this is, commenting on it once they realise their mistakes. The film contains some of the most stellar cinematography in a Mann film, with some phenomenal editing and music to mix with it. It’s a mesmerising, gripping film, and one of Mann’s most emotional films on the surface, though I don’t think it is quite as deep as his others.
“I’m running out of heroes”, says a desperate, worn down Bergman... and it would appear that Mann agreed, and so, next he made...

 
ALI (2001)
 
Ali is clearly a film made by a man who loves Ali himself. It’s a heartfelt film and one that is made with a lot of love behind it. It also gives a fascinating insight into Ali’s life that goes a whole lot further than any typical biopic, focusing on the political climate Ali was involved in rather than just telling a watered-down life story of the famous boxer. As the tagline says, “Forget what you think you know.”, and that rings true. Ali’s emotional mixture of frustration, lust and violence mixes so well with the current climate that he was living in, when people were very unsure as to what was going on, and had even less of an idea as to how to solve these problems and move on with their lives. Ali is a fascinating study of a man and of a time, however it is the use of the camera that really captivated me technically. The camera always seems to be moving. Like a shark in water, we feel that we will die if we don’t stop moving, and so we never really do. This brings up an idea of the camera suggesting life, and whenever Ali steps into the ring, the lights seem to go on forever (a gorgeous leading lines trick that I wish were used more as it looks phenomenal), and the camera suddenly starts to fly around, brimming with life, until the ring becomes a hive of activity, and therefore, a producer of life, existence, vitality...

 
COLLATERAL (2004)
 
Following up Ali was more of a return to form for Mann, Collateral. Released in 2004, starring Jamie Foxx and Tom Cruise, Collateral is about how one night can change a person, and it is ultimately a look at what makes men tick and what the meaning in/of modern life is.
We begin with Max, played by Jamie Foxx, being introduced to us and also introduced to a woman. Max explains the fact that he wants to own a limousine company, however when asked by Cruise’s Vincent, Max reveals that he has been driving and preparing to open this company for 12 years. Vincent’s introduction is odd, and strangely what Mann does here is use a hitman as a catalyst to change Max. The two characters, once again opposites (a trademark of Mann’s work, one of his obsessions), contrast each-other so greatly that eventually they collide, around the mid-point when Max steals Vincent’s bag, and throws his list into the street. Suddenly, Max becomes everything he needed to be. He becomes the definition of The American Dream, a strong, confident, independent man, who can do as he pleases. As Lessons From The Screenplay day in their analysis of Collateral, “To overcome his character’s weaknesses, Max has needed to be more like Vincent - the embodiment of everything he’s not. Now, his inner-self and his facade collide as he is asked to become Vincent.”. This sudden switch for Max becomes the pivotal point of the story, as we see Max deal with the dangerous drug-lords and hitmen more confidently than he would usually deal with a civilian.
Collateral also sees Mann look into philosophy from a new angle, nihilism. A scene towards the end of the film sees Vincent berate Max and tease him, saying that Max will never achieve his goals because he has waited too long and that, ultimately, there is no point in chasing that dream anyway... Max has no purpose. For a brief moment, Max agrees, and in one last attempt to kill Vincent, and possibly even himself, he swerved his car over. We see that Max’s goal is gone... he has no purpose, however when he stands up, it is revealed that the woman from the beginning of the film is the final person on Vincent’s list, and therefore Max has a new purpose - to protect, and he does. In the end, he finds his new purpose, he saves Annie, and Vincent is killed. A total switch from the beginning, when Max was doing so little in life that he may as well have been dead, and Vincent was thriving due to this.
“A man dies on an L.A subway... think anyone’ll notice?”

 
MIAMI VICE (2006)
 
Now things get a little harder to pin down. I can safely say that Mann’s 2006 film, Miami Vice, changed the way that I see cinema. Never before had I been so involved in characters, but furthermore, never before had I seen a film where we only see the real character for very brief moments throughout, most of the time they hide behind a facade. Sound familiar? That’s because it is... yet another re-occurring theme from Mann’s cinema.
Now, for a tangent on Mann’s portrayal of character that works for a few of his films.
One thing I noticed that has fascinated me since was his choice to almost always cast recognisable, well known stars. De Niro, Pacino, Hemsworth, Foxx, Cruise, Farrell and many more have been at the centre of Mann’s films, and I find it interesting, particularly in Miami Vice, how the film is all about performance. This is another theme that pops up through Mann’s cinema, the idea of presenting yourself as someone you aren’t, and it really solidified in Miami Vice, Public Enemies and Blackhat.
In this film in particular, the loss of identity is profoundly moving, heartbreaking. These cops hide behind cover to the point that, they cannot become themselves again. The ultimate sacrifice to protect and serve. Rather than being themselves, these men hide behind fake identities, behind falsehood, and rather than being themselves they are über exaggerated versions of themselves: glossy, stylised action heroes only there to protect others and sacrifice themselves.
It’s a terrifying thought to think that you can lose yourself to the image you present, to what you dream of being, and how becoming what you want to be can mean losing yourself. The film itself is masquerading just as much as the two men are, it hides itself behind the buddy cop film, behind the mindless action film, when really it is all about performance.
In an America fuelled by lies, it seems ironic that Miami Vice would be released. “Who are you?! Who are you?!” screams one character at the men, as they become aware of the mask that has taken over the lives of these men, and that has left them out of touch with reality. The mask that has placed them into a God complex, wherein they’re the heroes and everything else is a side character or a villain. A world without love, without significance, without hope. No law, no rules and no order.
“This was too good to last.”

 
PUBLIC ENEMIES (2009)
 
Public Enemies continues with Mann’s strange presentations of memorable characters, and, if you ask me, John Dillinger may just be his finest character to date. Usually, Mann has a few huge stars to help carry his film, and to gain some instant like-ability for his characters, and oddly, in Public Enemies he casts Depp, a big star certainly, however one who hadn’t been in such a territory very often. Instead of portraying infamous gangster John Dillinger as a force, this is only how the police see him in this film. Any audience member innocently stumbling across the film and putting it on expecting your typical badass, morally questionable gangster will be shocked to find that in this film, it is only those who don’t know Dillinger who see him that way. As Mann’s camera seems to be familiar with Dillinger, we see such an odd intimacy that I have never seen before in a gangster film. It’s startling, scary and upsetting to see him in such a vulnerable way. Rather than a quick talking, impatient killer, Dillinger is a truly vulnerable character, almost animalistic with his simple desires that once again fulfil the American Dream criteria... however, Mann takes it a step further here. Instead of America helping Dillinger to achieve his dream, much like Thief, Dillinger is instead stripped of his dream by America, and plans to move away to another country to fulfil his desires.
Mann’s Camera also acts as danger in the film. Dillinger never quite faces the camera until the end of the film, his heartbreaking death scene which remains haunting even to briefly think about. Sadly, Dillinger cannot escape his past, as no one can, and eventually, he is forced to suffer the consequences of his earlier actions.
“Bye bye, blackbird.”


BLACKHAT (2015)

Blackhat concludes what I have named Mann’s Vulnerability Trilogy, and it sees quite a leap from the style and setting of Mann’s precious film, Public Enemies. Instead of being set 80 years ago, Mann jumps to present day, possibly even the not-so-Distant future and rather than giving us a Man Vs System tale of old (Dillinger vs the police force), Mann gives us an updated story of man vs a whole new system, the modern day system. When we meet Nick Hathaway, he is imprisoned, held against his will by the system, and when they free him, all hell breaks loose. Blackhat is a masterfully told story of what happens when a man is beaten down by the world and he is finally given the chance to fight back, an idea also expressed excellently in You Were Never Really Here (Lynne Ramsey, 2017) and a topic so well done in many films. Mann makes the shootouts terrifying rather than entertaining, the characters lively and vulnerable rather than random meshes of flesh with guns... and this is what makes his cinema so refreshing. That mixture of intellectualism and thrills is something seen so incredibly rarely.
Jean Renoir once said, “a director spends his life making one film”, and I think that in the case of Michael Mann, this rings true. Though his films vary quite strongly in style and tone, they all seem to draw from the same points, and whilst I feel that Heat is the ultimate hit of this mixture of style and story, the one in which it worked most effectively, to say that Mann isn’t consistent would be to lie. I think that he is the greatest American director currently working, and can’t wait for his next film, Ferrari, which is currently set to release next year (2019). Mann’s films all carry strong casts, which seem to almost work with the strange facade he has in his films that they are these larger than life stories of spectacle, which they are on the surface, but as you dig deeper into his work, you see nothing but anguish, pain and vulnerability from these men.
Mann is also responsible for a great deal within American cinema. He is a key inspiration to many directors, such as The Safdie Brothers, who seemed to throw their own, more urban take of Heat onto the screen in 2017 with Good Time. Mann also inspired many American films that riffed on his strange characters, such as Miami Blues (Armitage, 1990) for example, which sees a crazed criminal slowly withered down into a sympathetic oddball, and even in terms of The Insider, Mann inspired many political films and you can certainly spot the early stylistic choices that are now common within political cinema. Try watching The Insider and Zero Dark Thirty back to back and saying that they don’t share any simulators with a straight face, I dare you.
What Mann has been able to do for cinema throughout his career is an extraordinary achievement, and one that I’m sure will continue. I also find that Mann has got to be the go-to for proving people wrong when they say that big budget is bad... a figurehead sadly needed.

McQueen - The Big Three

By Reece Beckett

“I was a painter before, and it was always about the frame, of course. But within this frame, somehow, because of movement, because of things passing through the frame, it seemed to have a life bigger than the actual frame itself. That’s the thing that gave me passion to sort of want to make films.” - Steve McQueen

Steve McQueen is a British filmmaker, a man who is at this point three films into his career, with a fourth coming this year. It isn’t often that you come across what seems to be a perfect filmography, films that are consistently impossible to find flaws in, however I believe that McQueen has accomplished this. He made his first feature length film in 2008, after spending 15 years (at least) making his own short films. He has continued to make features for the last decade, even winning Academy Awards for his latest film, 12 Years A Slave.

His first film, Hunger, faced much critical acclaimed upon its release, even winning The Carl Foreman Award at the Bafta’s, The award for a British director in their debut film. The film was even given a release on The Criterion Collection, a company “dedicated to gathering the greatest films from around the world.”

There are many parts of his three films that seem to cross over. For example, all films centre around one male character: Bobby Sands in his first film, Hunger, released in 2008, Brandon in Shame, released in 2011 and Solomon Northup in his most well known film, 12 Years A Slave. This may seem like something you could attach to many different filmographies, however something that I noticed was the fact that in all three of these films, this one man is used as a symbol for a much bigger conflict. In Hunger, Bobby Sands is representative of the IRA hunger strike of 1981, in Shame, Brandon represents sexual addiction in general, and of course in 12 Years A Slave, Northup represents the overall conflict of slavery. 

This shows McQueen’s clear understanding of what makes cinema really tick. There isn’t any need for large scale action, and the closest he ever comes to this is in Hunger, in which a brutal scene plays out in just one take, following the prisoners as they are harshly beaten and searched. This scene isn’t only horrific to view, and extremely uneasy, but McQueen even justified both sides of the fight. It would’ve been almost too easy to victimise Sands and the other prisoners, however during this fight, and throughout the film for that matter, we are shown that life isn’t too much better for the officers. In the beating scene, we see one officer traumatised by what he is seeing, and his own actions, hiding behind a wall as the violence continues on the other side of it.

This idea of ignorance is another recurring theme in McQueen’s filmography so far. In Shame, Brandon ignores his sisters frequent cries for help, he ignores her calls and he ignores his own addiction. He seems to not pay attention to anything other than his sexual satisfaction, consumed by his addiction to a point that he no longer views what he is doing as wrong. His addiction has engulfed him in a bubble, one that he cannot break out of.

Ignorance is also seen in 12 Years A Slave, not only from the general public towards the slavery, but also towards the emotions of these characters. For example, there is a scene wherein Northup is left to hang, and the shot lingers on his hanging body as we see life simply continue in the background. A harsh and disgusting moment, difficult for anyone to see.

McQueen’s earlier work, strangely, doesn’t seem to show any ignorance or the representation of a conflict through a single person, instead McQueen’s 1993 short film, titled “Bear”, shows two men, totally naked, fighting and embracing each other. This film communicates strange connotations of homoeroticism, violence and race rather than being more character based. Though “Bear” may differ from his other work, I find it interesting that the men fight whilst naked, which once again is in all of McQueen’s films. In Hunger and 12 Years A Slave, nudity is included to show vulnerability and helplessness, whilst in Shame, it is used as a horrific reminder that whilst Brandon is so addicted to his sexual fantasies, he is also incredibly vulnerable to his addiction, overpowered by it... whenever Brandon is naked, he seems to feel free, something rather tribal which is a similar ideology to what we see in “Bear”.

Strangely, McQueen also made a short film heavily inspired by Buster Keaton. The film, titled “Deadpan” is a recreation of the iconic Buster Keaton stunt wherein a house falls onto Keaton, however he narrowly survives as a hole lands over him. This one stands out compared to McQueen’s other films, basing itself off of a comedic genius rather than the rough conflicts that he usually focuses on, however, it still makes sense considering that McQueen could have learnt his excellent visual style from Keaton.

I find it incredible how McQueen isn’t afraid to let the camera linger. The most obvious example of this is in Hunger, a film with many excellent long takes, however the one that comes to mind first to me is a scene when we see a prison cleaner, mopping up urine. The shot lasts over a minute, uncomfortably dragging out this simple job and reminding the viewer that the prisoners aren’t the only ones suffering through their actions and protests, it’s a harsh reminder that with the way things are in the story, there is no winner, there is no clear-cut protagonist.

McQueen uses long takes in all of his films, whether it be the 20 minute conversation scene between Bobby Sands and a priest in Hunger, a phenomenal tracking shot that follows Brandon through the streets of New York as he jogs, trying to clear his head, in Shame, or some brutal takes in 12 Years A Slave, including one wherein Solomon Northup is forced to whip one of his friends to death.

Another thing that I noticed about Steve McQueen is that he never takes specific sides. Even in his short film, “Bear”, he never focuses specifically on one man more than the other, and this is something that continued throughout his filmography. In Hunger, the prison officers aren’t made out to be antagonists, in fact the first 10 minutes of the film focus on one prison officer, we see his bruised and cut hands, his difficult family life strained further by his job and the paranoia that the current politics caused for people. In Shame, Brandon is never looked down upon by the film, McQueen leaves everything to the audience, they need to decide. Even in 12 Years A Slave, McQueen doesn’t push either way. The film shows that not everyone was involved, only making the awful men villainous, whilst the majority of the characters sympathise with Northup and the other slaves. As McQueen himself said about 12 Years A Slave, “Everyone deserves not just to survive, but to live. This is the important legacy of Solomon Northup.”

One other thing that I noticed was the way that Hunger and Shame seem to connect. Whilst they focus on entirely different things, I notice a strange connection between Sands’ hunger strike to going ‘cold turkey’ from a drug, just as Brandon would have to in Shame. I may be reaching, however it seems strange that the two connect in such a way.

I also noticed an odd connection between McQueen’s Shame and Martin Scorsese’s New York, New York, made in 1977.
Though there are so many connections between Steve McQueen’s films, from the way that he chooses to portray his subject and the way that his films feel incredibly observant, their great variation in topics is what I find very interesting.
Though they are all upsetting topics, fuelled by conflict, there’s also a great range in the topics of choice, as I stated before with the great contrast between Hunger, and its protagonists choice to abandon a necessity of life, compared to Shame, in which the protagonist seems to have created an entirely new necessity in his own life. 

Though McQueen’s cinematic career may be a mere three features long, I believe that he is one of the greatest contemporary directors, creating some of the greatest current films consistently, presenting beautiful and harsh films about real issues that people face, whether it be fictional or non-fictional. I believe that in McQueen, cinema has acquired yet another anthropologist, a man who cares endlessly for his peers, and wants desperately to acknowledge the pain that some go through.

The narrative style of 'Dunkirk'

By Anand Nair

In 2017, writer-director Christopher Nolan released his much anticipated war outing ‘Dunkirk’ which polarized audiences worldwide right from the moment ‘go’. One group, to which I belonged, hailed it as a work of imaginative triumph and as an instant classic, while the other group criticized it for the lack of a human core and labelled it a bland and pretentious by nature.

Much hate in particular was vented towards the non-linear narrative, which the naysayers of the film rendered needless and out-of-the-place within the subject matter of the film. This brief write-up of mine hopes to prove the contrary.

1. Conflict

Although I am aware of the exceptions to this rule (Walden, Man With A Movie Camera, Chelsea Girls to name a few), it goes without saying that almost of all the movies we see thrive on the progression from the establishment of a conflict to its resolution/non-resolution. They make the work engrossing and act as an invisible adhesive that joins scenes together by giving them a route of focused and logical progression. The fracturing of time ‘is’ the conflict of Dunkirk with its incoherence prodigiously utilizing our inherent need to juxtapose the events in linearity so as to draw us into the work. Many have argued that Nolan should have rather opted for a straightforward, linear narrative, but they do so in complete ignorance of what the film hopes to accomplish in the first place – portraying war through a collective consciousness rather than an individual one. A conflict situation in the context of Dunkirk would have only emanated in a linear narrative had it been approached from an individual perspective (say The Pianist) or a battalion perspective (like Saving Private Ryan), but doing so would be completely at odds with the crux of the movie. The nature of the narrative acts a syntax here doing what Rosebud does in Citizen Kane, molding into a cohesive whole what would otherwise have been hanging threads, full of potential but no viable means of exploring it with.

2. Nature

Dunkirk is a work epic in its scope and fittingly, so are the antagonists at play in it – land, water, air. Less is inflicted on the Allied forces by the ‘enemy’ compared to the hindrances the elements of nature bring to the fore. The non-linear narrative enhances the feeling of entrapment omnipresent in the film by creating the sense that all events are materializing at the same time, which contributes to the development of an aura that all the elements of nature have risen up together at the same time, up in arms to prevent the escape of the soldiers stranded at Dunkirk. It levels the stakes to an unparalleled high which otherwise wouldn’t have been possible.

3. Time

As a medium, cinema lets us fracture time, elongate it and more importantly in this case, compress it. The evacuation of Dunkirk is so massive in its scope and so distant in its varying geographical settings that to have to make this film with a linear narrative would have meant risking a runtime mirroring a Tarr or Diaz film, a risk Nolan couldn’t afford to take considering the production values riding on the film. More importantly, the non-linear narrative helps put a clock on the events, menacingly ticking louder and clearer with every passing scene. Nameless these soldiers remain, but the clocks act as a connective tissue making them human and knowable to us, causing us to care almost beyond bearing about their fates and in process, transfixing us to the screen, watching in fear of what might happen to them. And us.

Similarities between Hitchcock’s PSYCHO an Eminem’s STAN music video

By George Hobson

“Stan” by Eminem is no doubt on of the famous music videos of the 21st century. The song and video are told from the point of view of obsessed Eminem fan “Stan”. In the video we are introduced to Stan who has a pregnant girlfriend (played by singer Dodo who makes an appearance in the song). The story details how Eminem-obsessed Stan writes letters to his idol - but due to Eminem repeatedly not replying to the letters, Stan sends more angry letters - the story comes to close when Stan drives his car with his pregnant girlfriend in the boot into the lake, whilst sending an angry voice recording to Eminem due to not responding to his mail - Eminem doesn’t get this angry voice recording though as before driving the car into the lake, Stan humorously realises - “Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now. Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?”

 Obsessed fan Stan writing to his idol

We then cut to the real life Eminem, who upon reading one of Stan’s angry letters, Eminem respectfully explains how  “I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy”. During this scene, it cuts to a shot of the post office in which one of Stan’s letters falls out of the post - referencing Stans early line “there must have been a mix up at the post office or somethin’”. Whilst Eminem is respectful to Stan in this letter, he also expresses concern about his mental health - “You got some issues Stan, I think you need some counseling to help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some.”  In further expressing his concern he recalls “this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick. Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge and had his girlfriend in the trunk, and she was pregnant with his kid. And in the car they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to. Come to think about, his name was, it was you” Upon realising that the perpetrator was Stan, Eminem lets out a “Damn!”, and the songs ends, with and sudden burst of lightning near Eminem's rainy window, in which the face of Stan appears in the window for no more than a second.

(Stan briefly appearing in Eminem’s window)

The story for “Stan” sure is entertaining with interesting characters and unique premise - by following the letters Stan sends, we are intrigued throughout and want to know how the story ends. By making Stan a “family man” with a pregnant girlfriend, it makes him relatable to the average viewer, and thus his downfall is all the more tragic. The duality of Stan’s life is communicated visually with Stan's girlfriend (his “normal” life) placed at the top of the house.  A shot pans down to the layers of the house and reveals Stan’s basement which is a dark and gloomy shrine dedicated to Eminem, with poster’s everywhere, and where he writes his disturbed fan mail. This is reminiscent to the house in Alfred Hitchcock’s film PSYCHO, in which deranged character Norman Bate’s house has three layers (basement, middle and top). This is reference to influential psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud and his idea that there are three stages of human consciousness “Id, ego and Super ego”. The “Super ego” is what one would call one’s “good self”, the self one presents to the world to appear morally pure and agreeable with society.

“The iceberg model often used to describe Freud’s theory of consciousness”

Freud associates the “Super ego”, with parental figures and the responsibility they take on to raise their children on ethical morals and thus they they alter themselves to appear to be the “Super ego” role model in hopes to better influence their children, saying - “the super-ego also takes on the influence of those who have stepped into the place of parents — educators, teachers, people chosen as ideal models”. We see this in “Stan”, in which the symbol of parental maturity is present in the form of Stan’s concerned pregnant girlfriend at the top of the house. We also see this in PSYCHO, as in the top of the house, we see Norman’s “mother’s” bedroom as well as Norman’s childhood bedroom, complete with teddy bears and a child-sized bed. These are all featured at the top of the house and represent the “Super ego”.

Norman and “mothers” room – symbol of parental authority at the top of the house (super ego)

Stan’s pregnant girlfriend at the top of the house (super ego) another symbol of parental authority

Also, when describing the motives of the super ego, Freud mentions “the task of seeing that narcissistic satisfaction from the ego ideal is ensured”. The character of Stan indulges in “narcissistic satisfaction” during the beginning scene, in which in the upstairs bathroom (super ego) he is seen bleaching his hair blonde to look like his hero Eminem - he is altering himself to fulfill his super ego. As I mentioned how the super-ego is often associated with going along with the ebb and flow of society, could the reason why Stan is altering himself is due to the fact that Eminem is a pop culture idol? Does he think be altering himself, he will gain more approval from society, thus satisfying his super-ego?

However another stage of human conscience - the bottom - is what Freud described as the “Id”. Id represents our natural instincts,that often go against the norms of civilised society (the super ego) and often represent our primal sexual and aggressive traits. The “Id” is present with us straight at birth as a natural setting, whereas the “super-ego” is taught to us by the morals set by parental figures and society. In the basement of Stan’s house lies his “Id” - his aggressive and primal nature that he hides from the world, and similarly in PSYCHO, the fruit cellar shows Normans perverse and sexually suggestive nature, in that we see the corpse of his murdered mother, that he hides from the world.

The bottom of the house, in the fruit cellar (Id) where Norman hides his darker side of himself – his mother’s murdered corpse

Stan’s basement (Id) in which his unhealthy obsession for Eminem is present

The association of the “Id” being associated with children/babies (“present at birth” as Freud would say), is communicated visually. In Psycho, as I mentioned before, there is emphasis on Norman’s bedroom, in which the bed appears to be recently slept in, and in another scene, Norman is scene eating “candy” - food often associated with babies and children. In Stan, we see our main character whine to both his girlfriend and Eminem, the way we would expect a spoiled child to do. In the beginning scene, before the music starts, Stan locks himself in the bathroom, with his girlfriend pleading him to come out - the way we would expect a mother to reason with a grumpy child from locking themselves in a bathroom as part of a temper-tantrum. The idea of Stan being a symbolic child/baby is also communicated in the shot where his pregnant girlfriend sits on the toilet. The shot pans downs from her sitting on the toilet to Stan at the bottom in his basement. Now this may be crude, but the downward shot from the woman on the toilet to Stan at the bottom, could be interpreted as a birth metaphor - as if Stan has dropped out from his girlfriend’s vagina from the top of the house to the basement at the bottom - the newborn child in which the “Id” is present.

The pan shot in which it shows the layers of the house (human consciousness) and possible birth metaphor

Freudian ideas aren’t the only psychoanalytical themes present in “Stan”. The ideas of Carl Jung and his idea of “the shadow” are present in “Stan” as well as Hitchcock’s PSYCHO. Jung was influenced by Freud, although the two disagreed on many things.

When discussing the shadow, Jung says - “Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. At all counts, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions.” In black and white terms, the shadow is the dark side of us - the “Id”. He also says - “The ego confuses itself with the façade personality (which is of course in reality only that part of the personality that is tailored to fit the collective), and forgets that it possesses aspects which run counter to the persona his means that the ego has repressed the shadow side and lost touch with the dark contents, which are negative” 

Psychoanalyst Carl Jung pictured

In PSYCHO, themes of the shadow are present and are communicated visually - the scene where Norman makes Marion “sandwiches and milk”, Norman on the surface appears to be a beta-male “nice guy”, in his interest to help Marion, but behind this polite facade, lies his primal sexual interest in Marion. For example the room is adorned with Norman’s “stuffed birds”  (a harmless yet somewhat creepy ornament), but the shadows of the birds point at Marion imposingly - the beak shadows are quite phallic. In fact the beak shadows are similar to the phallic knife that the shadowy figure of “mother” uses when she (he) stabs Marion. Mother of course being Norman’s repressed shadow.   

Note the similarities between the shadow beak and the shadowy knife held by mother (credit due to Rob Ager for pointing out this similarity - check out his film analysis for pyscho on his website Collative Learning)

Jung also says “Closer examination of the dark characteristics – that is, the inferiorities constituting the shadow – reveals that they have an emotional nature, a kind of autonomy, and accordingly an obsessive or, better, possessive quality.” When talking of the “obsessive” and “possessive” aspects of the shadow, this is relatable to both the characters of Stan and Norman. Stan of coursed being obsessed with Eminem and Norman being obsessed with his mother.

Despite the shadow being associated with negative traits, one can also link Jungian psychology with creativity. For example, underrated philosopher Walter Kaufmann (best known for being the translator of many works by German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche) said - "in spite of its function as a reservoir for human darkness—or perhaps because of this—the shadow is the seat of creativity”. This is true of Eminem, as his creativity is often inspired by dark aspects of humanity which are often suppressed by many, with “Stan” being no exception. Interestingly, the brief shot of Stan appearing in Eminem’s window as a reflection of sorts - could be suggestive of Eminem’s shadow.  Like Kaufmann would say, “the shadow is the seat of creativity” with Eminem being inspired by a dark subject matter to write this very song. Also the “shadow” of Stan could be a symbol of Eminem’s repressed guilt for partly being the cause of the murder/suicide of Stan and his pregnant wife.

(Eminem’s shadow)

Autumn Sonata

"Those are very beautiful words, are they not? You know words that doesn't mean anything real."

By John Garell, with spoilers

I don't want to talk about Bergman's Autumn Sonata (1978) by describing it or the events in it, because that doesn't really say anything. I don't actually have too much to say about it, so I'll keep myself short, this is not a full, completely covering review, more about what the film gave me. I'm not writing this to advertise it, I don't want you to read this if you didn't see it, because everything to take from the film should come from it, this shouldn't take away from it.

Who is Eva? Who does she wants to be, and how does she compromise? Is there a person in everyone, or are most people the result of everyone else? Her sister Helena cannot take any space, she is stuck in her body, which limits her from taking part in the world. However, Eva is in a cage of her own. One may talk forever, yet say nothing, because words can't explain everything, they are just small compromises to try to have your thoughts fit into certain boxes, to make the thoughts compatible.

Is Eva willfully concealed? If others were to understand her, they would see all her anger, hate and agony. Perhaps it's better for everyone to ignore this and maybe it will be subdued? Life is too short to spend time fighting over the past, or is it too short to waste time suffocating thoughts and feelings? Is life too long to have it painted of dark memories of arguing, or is it too long to keep the truth silent?

Did she say it for her sake, to make peace inside of herself, or to make justice, and have her mother face the unjustice she caused her daughter? But it isn't about revenge, Eva doesn't want to be as bad as her mother. Perhaps they didn't understand eachother, but ultimately they were able to accept eachother, which might be enough.

What if she didn't say it? What if her mother was aware she didn't treat her right, but didn't really care, and was trying to normalise her behaviour, even though she was haunted by her conscience and nightmares. Still, she never said anything, she rather run from the problems, and perhaps wants to not view them as such. That is, after all, the easiest way. What if Eva could forgive and forget? Would she like to?

How will life be after this? Is Eva really able to forgive, assuming she wants to? Is all good? Will it be? Maybe, Eva might even regret saying it, silence might be the most merciful approach, maybe not.

On The Hero's Journey

By George Hobson

The scriptwriting process can be difficult for many writers, with many struggling to come up with ideas and to keep up the process of writing without getting into a mess and eventually giving up. Many filmmakers who wish to emulate mainstream Hollywood-productions and secure themselves a career in the industry will often follow strict guidelines that will please both executive types and mainstream movie going audiences. This will include using established character tropes and often following the three act “hero’s journey” structure used in many blockbuster films. The “hero’s journey” goes back to ancient mythology, with the same structures that we would find in Hollywood blockbusters appearing in fairy tales and classic literature. It has been studied by many academics, but the hero’s journey was popularised by Joseph Campbell, who discussed the story structure in his book “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”, taking heavy inspiration from influential psychoanalyst Carl Jung and his view of the myth. When describing the hero’s journey, Campbell writes - “The usual hero adventure begins with someone from whom something has been taken, or who feels there is something lacking in the normal experience available or permitted to the members of society. The person then takes off on a series of adventures beyond the ordinary, either to recover what has been lost or to discover some life-giving elixir. It's usually a cycle, a coming and a returning.”

The description given by Campbell sounds like the plots of endless Hollywood blockbusters that follow the three act structure. Citing an example of a popular Blockbuster that emulates this is the first Star Wars film. The first act introduces main character Luke Skywalker who (as Campbell would say) “feels there is something lacking in the normal experience available or permitted to the members of society”. Luke’s homeland is a dull empty desert – his Aunt and Uncle want him to live his life as a farmer, despite Luke wanting to be a space pilot and explore the vast galaxy. Luke spends the first act of the film stuck in a boring predicament, so in the iconic scene where Luke looks out into the sunset, we the audience also share his desire to break free from mundanity. The relatability the audience shares here is one of the reasons why the hero’s journey archetype has stood the tests of time and continues to be told in stories to this day – the feelings of longing and desire for purpose described that are present in the hero’s journey are essential traits of the human condition. We like Luke seek an escape from the mundanity of our everyday lives, so when Luke’s life takes a change for adventure, which includes him taking on the empire in the second act and him blowing up the Death Star in the concluding third and final act, it satisfies our inner desires.

George Lucas did an excellent job of bringing The Hero’s Journey to script form and it is one of the reasons why Star Wars is one of the most successful films of all time. Whilst the hero’s journey structure works well here and in many other blockbuster movies, many scriptwriters will imitate the hero’s journey structure robotically, so much so that it comes off as a poor imitation of other successful films, in which the same recurring plot points and character tropes become noticeable, so therefore the film appears uninspired and unoriginal. Ironically, Joseph Campbell wrote in his autobiography “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path. Where there is a way or path, it is someone else's path. You are not on your own path. If you follow someone else's way, you are not going to realize your potential.” This is true of so many scriptwriters who try so hard bit by bit to imitate this structure. Interestingly, George Lucas (who many scriptwriters try to copy the structure of his work in order to get approval from studios) was disapproved by studios when pitching Star Wars. The sci-fi space adventure prospect was something completely different to the films being made at the time – it was so unique that studios saw the idea as stupid and that audiences wouldn’t take to it. George Lucas was so passionate about his vision however, that he decided to go independent and finance the film itself. In a way, the story of how Star Wars was made serves as George Lucas’s own hero’s journey - the underdog filmmaker whom the big studios disapproved of, took on the trial and tribulations of making and funding his own independent film. Despite being told that it would fail, he chose not to sell out for mainstream approval, and instead pursued his original vision. The final third act conclusion being that Star Wars is one of the highest grossest films of all time and George Lucas becomes a billionaire. 

As the hero’s journey is being copied and pasted by many scriptwriters, this can lead to unoriginal scripts, and over-simplified versions of Campbell’s structure. Stewart Farquhar, who holds Screenwriting and Advanced Screenwriting certificates from the Professional Program at The UCLA School of Theatre Film and Television, comments on how this structure is seen as “The Holy Grail” by executive types when greenlighting blockbuster scripts saying how audiences are “force-fed a pre-sold, path predictable stream of recycled CGI”, and how “often this cookie-cutter approach leads to a super abundance of sequels, prequels and rehashes ad infinitum”.

Also, simplified versions of Campbell’s structure can make content over simplified and black and white when it comes to its morality and intellectual complexity. By this I mean that modern interpretations of the hero’s journey follow simple “good vs evil” structure in which “good” always triumphs over “evil”. These over-simplified themes and structures are most likely prominent in modern blockbusters, as they serve as ego-boosters and reassure viewers of their own perceived moral purity. People are aware of this facet in the modern interpretation of the hero’s journey. For example Hollywood screenwriter Sean Hood wrote in his article “Is THE HERO’S JOURNEY dead in screenwriting today?” about when writing the script for blockbuster “Hercules”, his scripts version of the ancient Greek hero was “a Hercules who subverted the Greek myth of the Hero, a Hercules with doubts, fears and divided goals, a Hercules who winced at pain, avoided conflict and resented the role he was born to fulfill.” When director Brett Ratner read the script, he dismissed it with Hood saying that he “had made Hercules too metrosexual” and that Ratner demanded that “Hercules needs to be BADASS”. Due to this, Hood’s more complex script was replaced with one that fits the stereotypical, over-simplified hero’s journey that we’re all familiar with.

When talking of the oversimplified morality of many modern hero’s journey stories, he cites how the ancient myths that were influential to the likes of Campbell and which are being told and retold to this day, have some ugly facets that don’t find their way into modern storytelling, saying – “The sanitized Monomyth tends to cover up the violence, horror and perversity of myths. In the original version of Sleeping Beauty, Prince Charming rapes the princess while she is unconscious, and she awakens nine months later with twins suckling her fingertips. Then, Prince Charming, who is already married, burns his wife alive so he and Sleeping Beauty can live happily ever after. As I’ve argued before, Real Myths Are Weird”. The over simplified “good vs evil” morality is pushed by the likes of Disney when re-telling these ancient myths, whilst ignoring the more ugly aspects of history, mythology and life in general.
These oversimplified scripts and, more specifically, the mass amount of people who crave the feelings of moral-reassurance that comes with them, lack what Friedrich Nietzsche described as “the intellectual conscience”. In his book “The Gay Science”, he writes “the great majority of people lack an intellectual conscience. Indeed, it has often seemed to me as if anyone calling for an intellectual conscience were as lonely in the most densely populated cities as if he were in a desert. Everybody looks at you with strange eyes and goes right on handling his scales, calling this good and that evil.”  He also states - “But what is good heartedness, refinement, or genius to me, when the person who has these virtues tolerates slack feelings in his faith and judgments and when he does not account the desire for certainty as his inmost craving and deepest distress--as that which separates the higher human beings from the lower.” These ideas put forward by Nietzsche are relatable to the modern hero’s journey script writing structure and the masses that love it. It is why these generic movies are so popular, and why the scriptwriters and directors whose themes stray beyond “good” and “evil” (pun intended) and veer into more complex, and sometimes uncomfortable, territory aren’t as popular with mainstream filmmakers who follow the algorithm. As Nietzsche said these filmmakers are “as lonely in the most densely populated cities as if he were in a desert”. However, although they might not receive the greatest mass appeal, their “desire for certainty” and ability to go against common thought “separates the higher human beings from the lower”. In this case it separates the higher film makers from the lower.

What is impressive is when what I call “higher filmmakers”, write scripts that emulate the three act hero’s journey structure, but instead of giving into “the intellectual conscience” mind-set, they’ll delve into more complex and intricate ideas that surpass common notions of “good” and “evil”, but still gain mainstream appeal by following the beloved hero’s journey. For example, avant garde filmmaker David Lynch’s 1986 film Blue Velvet has the basic three act structure premise. It introduces a romanticized 50s-esque American town, complete with picket fences and all the images associated with suburban utopia. It starts by introducing the average viewer to the safe and familiar. We are then introduced to our “hero” Jeffrey Beaumont – a decent college student who has an ongoing romantic relationship with the typical, blonde haired girl next door, Sandy. Jeffrey appears to be normal, but as Campbell would say, Jeffrey “feels there is something lacking in the normal experience available or permitted to the members of society.”
When news of a murder case breaks out, Jeffrey becomes intrigued and begins breaking from the romanticized 50s-eque world he is used to and goes into more gritty territory. During the second half, Jeffrey starts having an affair with nightclub singer Dorothy, who can’t escape the clutches of psychopath and sexual sadist Frank Booth who has kidnapped her child. Frank is introduced as the story’s “villain”, but during Jeffrey’s affair with Dorothy, our “hero” begins to show perverse, sexually sadistic behavioural traits similar to Frank. For example when engaging in intercourse, despite resisting Dorothy’s pleas that she wants to be abused, he eventually gives in and pleases Dorothy’s sadomasochist desires and persists to beat her, the same way that “villain” Frank did in a scene before. The similarities are communicated visually with Frank telling Jeffrey “you’re like me”.

This ugly and perverse world is a stark contrast to the safe and familiar vision of romanticized suburbia introduced in the first half of the film. The average viewer was no doubt able to relate to the first half, so this contrasting second half in which the “hero” is seen to engage in sadomasochism would have been quite a shock. However, Blue Velvet just manages to keep its mainstream appeal, due to the third act conclusion. Jeffrey ends up killing Frank, ends up winning the heart of girl next door Sandy; Dorothy is reunited with her child and we return to the ideal, suburban world, with the film ending with the same shot it started with of a clear blue sky – these two identical opening and closing shots can be linked to what Campbell described as “a cycle, a coming and a returning”. By giving us a supposed “happily ever after” ending, Lynch is able to appeal to the average viewer who don’t possess the “intellectual conscience” mind-set. It’s why Blue Velvet was a huge financial success with mainstream movie goers and critics alike – the three act, hero’s journey structure with a “happy ending” was just enough to win over the mainstream beings, yet the more controversial, complex Freudian themes, were able to appeal to the more indie, intellectually conscious audiences.

Years later, David Lynch’s 1997 film Lost Highway is released, and like Blue Velvet, contains uncomfortable themes of sadomasochism and contrasting suburban utopia with a dark and gritty underbelly. Whilst the two films had similar themes and content, Lost Highway was panned by both mainstream critics and audiences. Could this be due to Lost Highway not following the three act hero’s journey structure? The narrative of Lost Highway is hard to explain, as it contains the main character changing actors and completely changing their identity (Bill Pullman plays a saxophonist who murders his wife, but then morphs into a young mechanic played by a completely different actor halfway through the film). Also the film doesn’t have a clear conclusion, as the film ends exactly where it started with Bill Pullman’s character talking to himself on the end of house-doorbell saying the words “Dick Laurent is dead”.

The complexity and nonlinear narrative of Lost Highway was hard for mainstream audiences to wrap their heads round and because of this it was a financial and critical flop, with America’s most beloved critics Siskel and Ebert giving the film “two thumbs down”. 

The narrative style isn’t the only reason why Lost Highway didn’t appeal to mass audiences. The film has an “intellectual conscience” and goes beyond “good vs evil” morality that exists in most established hero’s Journey films. Whilst Blue Velvet had similar themes, it still managed to appeal to mainstream audiences as it started off with the safe and familiar and ended with the safe and familiar. Although Blue Velvet had dark content, it included it in the middle of the film, so by ending it with a supposed “happy ending”, it was enough to reassure the mainstream viewer and tie all loose ends. Lost Highway starts with the unpleasant (Bill Pullman brutally murdering his wife), whereas the middle of the film introduces the idyllic suburban fantasy (Bill Pullman becomes a different actor and completely different character who is free from murder charges). However, the film ends with darkness remerging, with Bill Pullman’s wife-murdering character returning to the spotlight and the film ending exactly where it started.

Interestingly, both Blue Velvet and Lost Highway open and close with the same identical shot, with Blue Velvet using the shot of a clear blue sky and Lost Highway using the shot of a desolate highway at night. This goes back to what Campbell was talking about when discussing “a cycle, a coming and a returning”. Whilst Campbell’s hero’s journey concept of “coming and returning”, is often associated with happy, neat conclusions that where supposedly offered to us in more mainstream films such as Blue Velvet, Lost Highway has a much more darker take on the idea. In fact, Nietzsche’s doctrine of “Eternal Recurrence” is a much more appropriate way to describe Lost Highway’s structure. The idea put forward by Nietzsche that events will continually loop up
on themselves and that history will repeat itself with no escape, is a much more nihilistic unifying theory of life compared to the more optimistic “coming and returning” offered by the hero’s journey. The bleak ending and nihilistic conclusion of Lost Highway is another possible reason why it wasn’t a hit with the masses.

 The “Eternal Recurrence” structure isn’t used by many mainstream film makers, but occasionally niche films will use more cynical structures despite the lack of mainstream praise. Interestingly, influential rom-com director Woody Allen seems to be aware of the concept with him saying – “And Nietzsche, with his theory of eternal recurrence. He said that the life we lived we're going to live over again the exact same way for eternity. Great. That means I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again.”

However, the truth is that the three act, hero’s journey structure that follows basic “good vs evil” morality is what masses like, and if a filmmaker wants to get his way into the mainstream and secure his place in the industry, they are best following the scriptwriting guidelines that have been well established.