Is 35mm Film Really a Dead Medium?

We live in a society that indisputably thrives on technology. Nowhere is this more evident than in the entertainment industry, especially in the film business. Studios and theaters are undergoing a rapid process of conversion from 35mm film to digital that began in 2008. Companies that used to rely on 35mm are scaling back or ceasing production of film-related products altogether. This progression of technology brings up some very pressing concerns about the proper preservation of movies that were produced before the advent of digital. Not only is the conversion from print to digital increasingly more inconvenient and expensive (making a black-and-white print costs around $50,000), it is also difficult to produce a true-to-original digital replica of the print.

Filmmakers and cinephiles are split on the relative benefits and detriments of film and digital. David Lynch is a huge proponent of digital media (Inland Empire was shot entirely on digital), and Quentin Tarantino is an adamant supporter of traditional 35mm.

The issue has been explored recently in Keanu Reeves's  2012 documentary Side by Side, which brought together modern cinematic giants such as Lynch, David Fincher, and Martin Scorsese to discuss their personal sentiments towards both film and digital (watch the trailer below).

The Atlantic, The New York Times, and Roger Ebert have all recently wrote on the subject, as well:

With 35mm Dead, Will Classic Movies Ever Look the Same Again? (The Atlantic)
How Digital is Changing the Nature of Movies (The New York Times)
The Sudden Death of Film (Roger Ebert's journal in Chicago-Sun Times)

The digital issue is one that will only become more and more relevant as technology develops at a progressively faster rate. Thus, we must be sure to take the pains to preserve the films that we have. The loss of those movies made with 35mm would be the loss of a significant part of both cinematic and cultural history.

It's Been Done Before!

As human beings, it seems that we can never truly be happy with what we have. The American culture is a particular culprit of this constant dissatisfaction. It is woven into our social fabric: there is always something better, something higher to reach for; a greater risk to take and a greater reward to earn. It is fundamental to the American mentality, dating back to the rugged individualism of our ancestors who were in constant pursuit of the American dream.

This consistent unhappiness with the status quo is evident even in our criticism of film, especially regarding those directors considered to be auteurs. The refrain among critics regarding these filmmakers is the same: we've seen it before. It's not new, therefore it's not interesting. It's been done.

This criticism is consistently directed at the filmography of Wes Anderson, director of such indie favorites as Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums. Every movie seems to have the same stylistic touch, the same stilted dialogue, the same whimsical humor, the same Bill Murray appearance, the same visual linearity, the same slow motion shot. 

The same goes for Quentin Tarantino (as is evidenced by this indieWIRE article). He has the same central themes, the same stylized violence, the same heightened revenge story, the same exuberant pop culture references. Style and subject matter are fundamentally so similar as to become repetitive, and this boring. At least, this is what some critics express.

According to this reasoning, there is nothing innately wrong with what Anderson, Tarantino, and others like them are producing. The steadiness of their output and the similar threads running through all of their work seem to point to a stubbornness, resistance to change, and a lamentable lack of radical artistic innovation (at least according to critics). 

Clearly, though, it is our expectations which are at fault, not the directors themselves.

A director's style should develop and mature, certainly. But directors like Anderson and Tarantino seem to have found, and settled, their particular brand of filmmaking. It is unfortunate that this results in accusations of 'stagnancy' and 'monotony,' because in reality this is an incredible artistic achievement. These auteurs appear to have settled in and become so comfortable with both their aesthetic and artistic process that radical change simply isn't necessary.  

These directors are the confident adults of the film world. They have no need to travel through the tumultuous process of finding their identity, instead inhabiting a world of artistic maturity. Auteurs like Tarantino have settled into themselves, and have no need for creative experimentation because they know exactly how to express their artistic selfhood. This is clear when one considers that every aspect of both Anderson and Tarantino's films seem to demonstrate that director's influence. This alone is a monumental accomplishment, considering that the overwhelmingly collaborative nature of filmmaking in the first place.

This deserves appreciation and encouragement, not denunciation. But film critics are paid to criticize, and nothing inspires more controversy and rage than calling Tarantino boring. 

Film and TV Characters We Love to Hate

Director extraordinaire Paul Thomas Anderson seems to have a recent obsession with creating narratives featuring unsympathetic, unlikable characters. His latest films, The Master (2012) and There Will Be Blood (2008), both showcase protagonists that lack what the audience might consider to be redeeming qualities... things like a moral compass or a soul.

Structuring a cinematographic narrative around a vile, repulsive and selfish character like There Will Be Blood's token capitalist pig Daniel Plainview may seem counter intuitive. In fact, in theory, what kind of person would want to sit through 158 minutes of Plainview mercilessly manipulating his way into an oil baron's fortune and the vast amount of power that comes with it?

Apparently the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, because Anderson's film was nominated for eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

The only possible conclusion to make is this: movie audiences love to hate. In honor of this, below is a compilation of the best of the worst characters in cinematic history. Whether they be serial killers, thieves, or just good old-fashioned villains, nothing is more entertaining than these bad to the bone characters.

1. Hannibal Lecter (The Silence of the Lambs (1991); Anthony Hopkins)

The most quotable serial killer in the history of cinema, the cannibal doctor is undoubtedly the most interesting character that appears in Silence of the Lambs (sorry, Starling). As the unttoppable master of manipulation, he manages to influence plot events... while locked behind bars. This man is so good at playing mind games, he is able talk someone into committing suicide. Even more chilling, he has no apparent motivation for being a cannibalistic psychopath. Evil for evil's sake? Sounds like the best kind of villain.

2. Walter White (Breaking Bad; Bryan Cranston)

What makes the audience pay attention to Walter White, centerpiece of the AMC television series Breaking Bad, is his epic metamorphosis. Throughout the series, he changes from innocuous cancer victim looking to pay for medical treatment to relentless drug-dealer, murderer, and sociopath.  There is nothing more entrancing than watching a person transform from mild-mannered chemistry teacher to gun-wielding, meth-cooking badass.

3. Anton Chigur (No Country For Old Men (2007); Javier Bardem)

You would never say no to a bowl cut, a quarter, and a modified cattle stun gun, right? Right. Chigur is an intimidating, vicious gun-for-hire who uses his twisted morality to murder anyone who stands in his way. A flip of the coin determines if his victim lives or dies. According to Chigur, it's all in the hands of fate.

4. Nurse Ratched (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975); Louise Fletcher)

Nurse Ratched knows how to silence an entire room of men with a look. A single glance. Granted, these men inhabit a psych ward, but that's just semantics. Ratched has perfected the cold, condescending cruelty of a woman who 'knows what's best.' Her clashes with the liberated R.P. McMurphy are film legend. She may look like your middle school English teacher, but never has a woman managed to be so sweetly terrifying.

5. The Joker (The Dark Knight (2008); Heath Ledger)

Ledger's Joker is the most terrifying comic book villain to come to life onscreen. He has become pop culture legend, despite being a thief, murderer, and confirmed sadist. Onscreen, Ledger was fascinating to watch, and performance gave the world a visual explanation for why clowns are so incredibly terrifying.

6. Hans Landa (Inglorious Basterds (2009); Christoph Waltz)

 

Manipulative? Self-serving? Ambitious? Hilarious? Check, check, check, check. Never has a Nazi been so lovably evil as Colonel Hans Landa, the Jew Hunter. Thanks in part to Quentin Tarantino's clever dialogue and unique pop-culture focused sensibility, this performance earned Waltz an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor and Best Leading Actor at Cannes.

7. Scar (The Lion King (1994); Jeremy Irons)

Other Disney villains of the nineties pale in comparison to the sheer vileness of Scar. As an egotistical, power-hungry maniac, he murders his own brother to gain the throne. And he doesn't stop at fratricide.    His bad lion puns in "Be Prepared" are practically murder. We're almost sad to see him eaten by hyenas. Almost.

8. Joffrey (Game of Thrones; Jack Gleeson)

Joffrey is a sadistic little bastard, and is solely responsible for one of the most upsetting plot events in modern television. He is universally despised, by everyone but his mother. It's not surprising that he turns out the way he does, as the circumstances of his birth are fairly morally reprehensible. Despite all of this, we are still delighted when his character appears onscreen.

9. Mark Zuckerberg (The Social Network (2010); Jesse Eisenberg)

Aaron Sorkin's version of Mark Zuckerberg is condescending, acerbic, and egotistical. Regardless of what Zuckerberg is like in real life, in the atmosphere of The Social Network, he is ruthless. There is nothing more fascinating than watching the confrontation between Eduardo Saverin and Zuckerberg; it is simultaneously heart-wrenching and impressive to watch Zuckerberg destroy the only true friendship that he has left. Zuckerberg may display some unethical business practices and a raging case of egomania, but he is entrancing to watch.

10. Frank Costello (The Departed (2006); Jack Nicholson)

Frank Costello's sense of morality is more twisted than the plot of Inception. But there's no denying that he is the most effortless badass in all of Scorsese's filmography. Costello is clever, manipulative, self-serving, and most of all, charming. At least in a sociopathic, violent sort of way.

Rian Johnson Closes the Loop

CAUTION: Contains spoilers

Looper has been hailed by critics and as one of the best science-fiction films in recent memory, being placed alongside such hallowed modern classics as The Matrix trilogy and Inception. What differentiates it, and ultimately makes it revolutionary, is its ability to intertwine science-fiction elements, most notably time travel, with the deeply moving moral dilemmas of its characters.

Looper begins in 2044, in a society not very different from our own. Time travel has not been invented... yet. Thirty years in the future, it does exist, and is being utilized by crime syndicates to eliminate their adversaries. Victims are sent thirty years back in time and executed by assassins known as 'loopers.' This then becomes 'the perfect crime:' no body, no murder.

There is one catch, however. The hitmen known as loopers must perform an action that is referred to as 'closing the loop.' To close the loop, one essentially commits suicide. The looper's future self is sent back in time with a bag over his head, and the looper, completely unaware, shoots and kills him. This is part of the deal: a looper limits his own life span in return for monetary compensation and a life of relative luxury that he might be unable to achieve otherwise.

Young Joe, remarkably well-acted by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is one such looper. Standing in a Kansas cornfield, he is prepared to complete another routine murder, until the victim unexpectedly arrives without a bag over his head. Young Joe stares into the eyes of his intended victim and realizes that it his older self. Surprised, Young Joe remains momentarily frozen, and Old Joe (Bruce Willis) takes advantage of this opportunity to knock out Young Joe and escape. Young Joe pursues him, knowing that if he does not close his loop, the consequences will be most certainly mean his own death.

As the film progresses, we see the introduction of many more complex motivations. Old Joe is revealed to be working to avenge the murder of his wife by the malevolent crime boss referred to in 2074 as The Rainmaker. Old Joe discovers three children living in 2044, one of which has to be the Rainmaker, and begins a relentless mission to kill all three. The erasure of the child will, he assumes, bring back his wife. If the Rainmaker never existed, his wife would have never been murdered, and thus, Old Joe assumes, will be alive and well in 2074. Meanwhile, Young Joe pursues Old Joe, still looking to close the loop and save himself.

This results in a beautifully constructed confrontation scene, perhaps the most engaging moment in the film. Both actors are able to perfectly convey, and even revel in, the strangeness of the situation of facing yourself across a diner booth. However, Johnson avoids delving too deeply into the existential implications of the situation. This was one of the more disappointing points of Looper for me, from a personal perspective. I craved some kind of more complicated philosophical discussion. If given the opportunity to have steak and eggs with myself thirty years from now, I don't think that I would bother with logistics. But I am not Young Joe, and at this point in the film, he is still on a single-minded mission to close his loop.

This single mindedness begins to shift with the introduction of Sara (Emily Blunt), and her young son, Cid, who is revealed to be one of Old Joe's three targets. Young Joe is confronted on all sides by self-sacrifice. Sara would do anything necessary in order to protect Cid. Old Joe is willing to kill innocents in order to bring back his wife. Young Joe's realization causes the most beautiful revelation in the film. Young Joe suddenly understands that the violence and destruction that the Rainmaker causes in 2074 is a circular device, and it results directly from the violence and destruction that is occurring now, in 2044. So Young Joe selflessly closes his own loop.

Unlike Christopher Nolan's Inception, Looper does no get caught up in explaining its own plot. Johnson uses voice-over remarkably well to explain various plot details, allowing the audience to focus on the emotional impact of the film, rather than distracting us with abstractions. In fact, one of the most admirable features of Looper is that is refrains from attempting a scientific explanation of how time travel works. We are told that it exists, and that it works, and we accept it. Again, this allows us to focus on the movie itself, rather than spending two hours twisting our minds around practicalities.

Looper is also incredibly adept at displaying the complex, interwoven morality that exist in the real world. All characters are independently motivated. None of their motivations are inherently good or evil; they simply conflict with each other. Each character displays an almost equal measure of selfishness and selflessness. This is how Looper avoids descending into stale stereotypes of black and white morality, instead inhabiting a world of emotional and ethical grayness.

The film also features incredible special effects and makeup, and a fascinating soundtrack composed largely of "found sounds" (see this video for further explanation).

Looper undeniably lives up to its reputation as one of the greatest science-fiction movies to be released in the past few decades. Its clever screenplay, admirable acting, exploration of morality, and enthralling action sequences are almost universally appealing. And, important for those fans of Rian Johnson's other work, most notably Brick (2005), it manages to maintain stylistic touches (such as elements of noir) that make his filmography unique. It succeeds on multiple levels, and for those who haven't seen it, deserves a theater viewing as soon as possible.