So, after writing that post about Horror as Transgression the other day, I was thinking about one of the things I said - the part about horror being the best equipped genre to explore the transgression of moral codes (what with people running around murdering other people and all). And I was thinking, is that really true? Is horror really the best genre to explore transgression? Is there another genre that's well-poised to do that? And I thought, what about comedy? There are a lot of different styles of comedy, but one of them certainly involves drawing humor from the transgressing of taboos.
And then I wondered, so how come I'm not a bigger fan of comedy? Because I'll do fantasy, drama, documentary, action, sci-fi - you-name-it, pretty much. Except comedy. And the reason is partly because I'm a serious guy - I derive more entertainment from considering serious truths than I do laughing about something stupid. But another part of the reason is that I have a distinct style of humor, and it's not about doing or saying stupid things to make someone laugh. It's an intelligent, cynical sort of humor, where the humor derives from - get this - transgressing taboos and speaking uncomfortable truths that we're not supposed to be able to talk about.
That's why, I guess, I like Family Guy so much, because they really don't hold anything back, and aren't above making really tasteless jokes that poke fun exactly where fun needs to be poked. See, that's a strange irony - because I'm all about being serious - but as a skeptic, it is my firm belief that nothing should be held sacred in the realm of discourse. No subjects are taboo. That's the fundamental importance of the First Amendment - the freedom of speech. And jokes that take advantage of breaking taboos - it's almost like to hear those jokes, your whole mind and body sighs a breath of relief because it's pure human nature to be curious about what lies beyond that line that everybody else tells you you're not allowed to cross.
That's also probably why I like George Carlin's style of humor so much. I've never, like, sat down and watched comedians do stand-up on any kind of regular basis or anything because usually I don't much go for humor. But obviously George Carlin has a pretty solid reputation, cult or otherwise, and it's impossible for me to avoid having overheard some of his monologues here and there over the years, and I really like his style. It's intelligent, it's biting, and it's unforgiving, and that's just what I like. It's not people doing silly things - what I might be inclined to call "kiddy humor". It's funny because it's so, so true, and yet it's things that most people are afraid to say or even admit to themselves - and hearing somebody make those points so confidently thrills me!
So anyway, I remembered The Aristocrats, which I heard about around the time it came out (but otherwise casually ignored). The concept is downright fascinating - that there is this sort of "in-joke" among the comedian community, whereby in telling it, the comedian is required to improvise, and encouraged to concoct the most vile, most offensive stage act his mind can conjure. Now, it's a very easy criticism to consider this just the grandaddy of all fart jokes - but the point isn't simply to be disgusting - the point is that you can be disgusting, that there is no ceiling - no taboo, whatsoever. It's the ultimate celebration of free speech and that's why I love it.
I love it, but not because it's funny. Most of the time, it's not even that funny. For me, it's not about being funny. Even when it is funny. But whether it's humorous or scary, enticing or downright repulsive, it all depends on the joke-teller. But the mere fact of its existence, and what it stands for, and the fact that comedians are willing to "go there", to exercise free speech and break any and all taboos - the bigger the taboo, the better the joke - and understand and respect the need to be able to do that, is so incredibly refreshing in a world with powerful authorities ("aristocrats", if you will) hell-bent on censorship and 'cleaning up' speech to make it palatable to their own disgustingly sanitary sensibilities.
But I sense it's the sorta thing you either get, or you don't.
For those of you who have seen the movie, I think my favorite version of the joke was Jon Ross's, because I like the way he used symmetry and build-up, and the way that it seemed more calculated for effect rather than "let me just run off all the most disgusting things that come to mind". But I also liked the mime's version, and the card magician, both of which were very clever. The South Park version was good, too, though I can't quite put my finger on why. And the deadpan way that Sarah Silverman was willing to efface herself for the sake of the joke. And how Taylor Negron told it so compellingly, it didn't even sound like a joke. I love that this joke really brings out the personality of the joke teller; that's definitely one of its selling points, and why it's actually interesting to hear dozens of comedians tell their own versions of the joke (that are bound to be hit-or-miss depending on your individual taste), and why a documentary like this one works.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Horror as Transgression
One of the reasons
(not the only one)
I enjoy the horror genre is very similar to the reason I like rock music - it's about rebellion. No genre is more suited to exploring the transgression of strict moral codes than horror. And whatever you might say about the need for rules and order - because I actually agree - it is just as necessary that we explore the transgression of those rules, and keep an open dialogue about why we follow the rules we follow, or whether we should really be following them at all. That is far more important to freedom and equality than blind allegiance.
And that is why I take special offense to horror filmmakers - no less - having the gall to suggest that horror is about following strict rules and blindly adhering to stale formula. Maybe that's a problem in some parts of the industry, but it's not what horror is about, and it's not what makes horror good. Horror is about making you feel uncomfortable because all the rules you rely on in your everyday life (like that that stranger is probably not going to kill you) are being tossed out the window. You're losing your safety net (except that it's still just a movie, otherwise it wouldn't be scary fun, it would just be scary). Horror is not about reciting a standard script where every viewer knows exactly who's going to die and in what order, where people get off on being able to say, "that bitch is a whore, she deserves to be mutilated, and I can't wait to see it."
And you know, that's actually what makes Funny Games such an effective horror movie (unlike The Cabin in the Woods). In taking away your safety net of expectations about how people are supposed to act and what sort of things are supposed to happen in a horror movie, it leaves you guessing and puts you in uncomfortable situations the other horror movies you've seen before may not have put you in. Now if only true horror filmmakers were more concerned about making films like this without wasting time trying to wrap them up in some pretentious commentary on the state of the genre, they'd alienate less fans and improve the genre overall, reducing the need for criticism as stale as the movies it criticizes.
I mean, the way Funny Games is shot, it seems to want to be saying that deriving entertainment from violence is wrong. The film shows all the horror and trauma of the situation, but makes a deliberate and successful attempt to avoid much in the way of explicit gore. It seems to think it's doing a good job of denying the viewer the pleasure of seeing gore, while forcing him to endure the uncomfortable reality of how violence affects people. What it doesn't seem to realize, though, is that it is an effective horror film in its own right, even without the gore. I'd prefer to believe that that is its message, because I'd rather believe the filmmaker is a horror fan who just happens to prefer subtlety to shock value, because I'm not too thrilled by the idea of putting a person on the Commission to End Violence in Media in charge of making a horror film. You might just as soon charge a conservative pastor to pen a rock song.
But then, as the viewer, we're still deriving some kind of entertainment value out of watching people suffer, even if we don't see the gore. I have a hard time believing someone would think that being entertained by gore is problematic, but wouldn't think the same of someone being similarly entertained by people's non-gory suffering. For me, it seems like the question of gore is immaterial (or simply a matter of taste). And anyway, if you're going to show the horror of violence, part of that is the gross-out of gore - whether some people find that entertaining (in the movies - beware anyone who thinks movies are the same thing as reality, which this movie also seems to subtly be saying) or not. It's as if this filmmaker doesn't understand that there are horror fans who enjoy horror because it's unsettling, and not just because seeing people exploding into giblets makes them happy. In other words, he doesn't understand horror. It's what I can only assume is pure coincidence that he managed to actually make a good horror movie, quite in spite of his attempts to frustrate the very people he intended the movie for...
And that is why I take special offense to horror filmmakers - no less - having the gall to suggest that horror is about following strict rules and blindly adhering to stale formula. Maybe that's a problem in some parts of the industry, but it's not what horror is about, and it's not what makes horror good. Horror is about making you feel uncomfortable because all the rules you rely on in your everyday life (like that that stranger is probably not going to kill you) are being tossed out the window. You're losing your safety net (except that it's still just a movie, otherwise it wouldn't be scary fun, it would just be scary). Horror is not about reciting a standard script where every viewer knows exactly who's going to die and in what order, where people get off on being able to say, "that bitch is a whore, she deserves to be mutilated, and I can't wait to see it."
And you know, that's actually what makes Funny Games such an effective horror movie (unlike The Cabin in the Woods). In taking away your safety net of expectations about how people are supposed to act and what sort of things are supposed to happen in a horror movie, it leaves you guessing and puts you in uncomfortable situations the other horror movies you've seen before may not have put you in. Now if only true horror filmmakers were more concerned about making films like this without wasting time trying to wrap them up in some pretentious commentary on the state of the genre, they'd alienate less fans and improve the genre overall, reducing the need for criticism as stale as the movies it criticizes.
I mean, the way Funny Games is shot, it seems to want to be saying that deriving entertainment from violence is wrong. The film shows all the horror and trauma of the situation, but makes a deliberate and successful attempt to avoid much in the way of explicit gore. It seems to think it's doing a good job of denying the viewer the pleasure of seeing gore, while forcing him to endure the uncomfortable reality of how violence affects people. What it doesn't seem to realize, though, is that it is an effective horror film in its own right, even without the gore. I'd prefer to believe that that is its message, because I'd rather believe the filmmaker is a horror fan who just happens to prefer subtlety to shock value, because I'm not too thrilled by the idea of putting a person on the Commission to End Violence in Media in charge of making a horror film. You might just as soon charge a conservative pastor to pen a rock song.
But then, as the viewer, we're still deriving some kind of entertainment value out of watching people suffer, even if we don't see the gore. I have a hard time believing someone would think that being entertained by gore is problematic, but wouldn't think the same of someone being similarly entertained by people's non-gory suffering. For me, it seems like the question of gore is immaterial (or simply a matter of taste). And anyway, if you're going to show the horror of violence, part of that is the gross-out of gore - whether some people find that entertaining (in the movies - beware anyone who thinks movies are the same thing as reality, which this movie also seems to subtly be saying) or not. It's as if this filmmaker doesn't understand that there are horror fans who enjoy horror because it's unsettling, and not just because seeing people exploding into giblets makes them happy. In other words, he doesn't understand horror. It's what I can only assume is pure coincidence that he managed to actually make a good horror movie, quite in spite of his attempts to frustrate the very people he intended the movie for...
Funny Games (1997)
Well, the Funny Games remake is, literally, a scene-by-scene, line-by-line reenactment, even directed by the same writer/director of the first one (apparently to push his film to the American audiences it was intended for...), so I don't have much to say about the original that I didn't say for the remake. There are some minor differences. The wife in the English version is younger and hotter, while the one killer's shorts in the European version are a lot shorter. And the victims' suffering is a bit more believable in the original version. I'll be honest, I got pretty bored during the scene that just drags on where nothing happens. I agree it has a purpose, and I sat through it the first time I watched the movie today, but twice in one day is just too much.
Addendum: Upon further reflection, I do have a few more words to say.
Addendum: Upon further reflection, I do have a few more words to say.
Funny Games (2007)
Funny Games is one of those infamous titles that you hear talked about among the devoted horror fan community, and as a member of that community, it's been on my watchlist for a while. (Alas, there are so many movies to watch, that you can't even guarantee seeing all the good ones first, or even just the genre landmarks). In the wake of watching The Cabin in the Woods (the second time), I overheard discussions comparing it to Funny Games in the sense that it is another self-conscious horror movie that examines the horror fan's desire to be entertained by sadistic violence.
I'll be honest, I'm not real big on horror deconstruction. As a philosopher and an intellectual, I enjoy examining the inner workings of things, but movies that attempt to answer the question, "why are people entertained by violence" all too frequently come at the question from the wrong direction. They assume that being entertained by violence is disgusting - which is a valid perspective, but one that comes from people who criticize horror, not the people who enjoy it. I don't need someone to point out to me how odd (if not downright disturbing) it is that I should glean delight from a fictional scene involving the physical and/or psychological pain and torture of a human being.
As a horror fan, I know that it's not the same sort of entertainment one gets from watching porn, or from sharing a good meal with friends, or any other kinds of entertainment in the vast realm of human experience, each with its own qualities and functions. And as an intelligent horror fan I also understand that though I may seek out the thrill of watching people fight for their lives in an on-screen dramatization, it does not in any way correlate to any sort of desire to make real people really suffer. In fact, I'm quite squeamish on that count. To me it's pretty simple why a person might respond favorably to the vicarious excitement one finds in a horror film, and the fact of it doesn't particularly alarm me.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize when I watched Funny Games that the copy I had acquired was actually the English language remake (ten years after the Austrian original). I confess, I did not do my homework well enough this time. But that's okay. I am going to watch the original as well. As for the remake, I have this to say about it - it definitely has some scenes that borderline on the "okay, this is clearly not being done to entertain the viewer, but to unnerve him". But then, there is a valid place in horror cinema for that kind of discomfort. I wouldn't expect all horror films to glorify violence and gloss over the very real and unglamorous aftereffects of this kind of trauma, and that sort of experience is worth depicting as well.
Apart from that, I will say that Funny Games (this version, at least) can stand as a really effective and original horror movie in its own right, with some really uniquely disturbing villains who totally defy horror convention in a really intriguing way. The brief moments where the film becomes unapologetically self-conscious are simply unnecessary, and don't really add much to the film except to give it a bit of a pretentious "see what we're doing here?" kind of an attitude. I could just as well do without that, and I think the movie would be no less effective as an examination of the phenomenon of 'horror for entertainment' even without it. Oh well. I look forward to seeing how the original version compares, although I've heard that it's a very close remake.
I'll be honest, I'm not real big on horror deconstruction. As a philosopher and an intellectual, I enjoy examining the inner workings of things, but movies that attempt to answer the question, "why are people entertained by violence" all too frequently come at the question from the wrong direction. They assume that being entertained by violence is disgusting - which is a valid perspective, but one that comes from people who criticize horror, not the people who enjoy it. I don't need someone to point out to me how odd (if not downright disturbing) it is that I should glean delight from a fictional scene involving the physical and/or psychological pain and torture of a human being.
As a horror fan, I know that it's not the same sort of entertainment one gets from watching porn, or from sharing a good meal with friends, or any other kinds of entertainment in the vast realm of human experience, each with its own qualities and functions. And as an intelligent horror fan I also understand that though I may seek out the thrill of watching people fight for their lives in an on-screen dramatization, it does not in any way correlate to any sort of desire to make real people really suffer. In fact, I'm quite squeamish on that count. To me it's pretty simple why a person might respond favorably to the vicarious excitement one finds in a horror film, and the fact of it doesn't particularly alarm me.
Unfortunately, I didn't realize when I watched Funny Games that the copy I had acquired was actually the English language remake (ten years after the Austrian original). I confess, I did not do my homework well enough this time. But that's okay. I am going to watch the original as well. As for the remake, I have this to say about it - it definitely has some scenes that borderline on the "okay, this is clearly not being done to entertain the viewer, but to unnerve him". But then, there is a valid place in horror cinema for that kind of discomfort. I wouldn't expect all horror films to glorify violence and gloss over the very real and unglamorous aftereffects of this kind of trauma, and that sort of experience is worth depicting as well.
Apart from that, I will say that Funny Games (this version, at least) can stand as a really effective and original horror movie in its own right, with some really uniquely disturbing villains who totally defy horror convention in a really intriguing way. The brief moments where the film becomes unapologetically self-conscious are simply unnecessary, and don't really add much to the film except to give it a bit of a pretentious "see what we're doing here?" kind of an attitude. I could just as well do without that, and I think the movie would be no less effective as an examination of the phenomenon of 'horror for entertainment' even without it. Oh well. I look forward to seeing how the original version compares, although I've heard that it's a very close remake.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
The Top 5 Greatest Songs Of All Time
(in my opinion)
Really, the point of this list is not to say that these are the 5 best songs ever recorded, without question - because, as we all know, musical taste is extremely subjective. The point is, rather, to demonstrate MY taste in music, just in case you're curious about "who I am" as a music fan - to show you what I like about music, and what sort of music moves me. That's why I'm limiting it to just 5 tracks, because I could go on and on for days about songs I like (and have - I used to host my own radio show in college, where they give you 100% creative control over the programming), but chances are your tastes don't match mine, and the more buffer room I allow, the easier it is for songs to slip in that really aren't the best of the best of the best (even in my opinion). Furthermore, this list is going to be about songs - songs that stand out, and represent what I like in music - at the expense of great albums and even some great artists.
The most obvious trend in the music I like is my appreciation for lead electric guitar, and extended "solo" guitar passages. I don't know what it is that draws me to the instrument, but more than anything else, that's what speaks to me. That partly explains my concentration in classic rock and blues music - two music styles that have a history of featuring not just guitar, and not even just electric guitar, but lead electric guitar. Two common things that I don't look for in music are a beat that I can dance to, and lyrics that mean something to me (which pretty much rules out pop music). Not that I don't appreciate songs with lyrics that have personal meaning, but that's really an afterthought. When I listen to music, I listen to the music and practically tune the lyrics out. I evaluate the vocals as an instrument, but I pretty much ignore the words the first five or ten times I listen to a song.
Pink Floyd - Careful With That Axe, Eugene
[Live at Pompeii, 1972]
Before Pink Floyd made record charting history with Dark Side of the Moon (one of my top favorite albums of all time), they were engaged in a period of experimentation. This track demonstrates the band's ability to create a captivating soundscape - in the ambient tradition - with a strongly spooky flavor. The way the song explodes into a crashing crescendo somewhere in the middle is indicative of my favorite aspect of post-rock music, which this song predates by decades.
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Cowgirl in the Sand
[Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, 1969]
Even for an inspiring artist with a long discography, this song stands out. I have a long history with it, including the many times I've performed it myself on guitar (though not half as well as Neil and the Horse). Neil has said that he wrote this song while in a fever, and with the long, tortured instrumental passages, it's not hard to imagine. It's an excellent demonstration of Crazy Horse's ability to jam out on a hard rocking song, but more than any other in their discography, it's filled with a fevered intensity that seems to mirror the feelings of frustration and anxiety that plague my mind.
Robin Trower - Daydream
[Live, 1976]
Robin Trower is fabled for his thick and vibrant guitar tone, but among many unique and original interpretations of the blues and rock formats, this song stands out as an example of how pretty music can be - without sacrificing passion. It is a standing testament to the guitar as an instrument, and how it can be manipulated to create both beautiful melodies, and heart-wrenching solos. George Harrison sang about guitars weeping, but this is the real deal.
Led Zeppelin - Since I've Been Loving You
[Led Zeppelin III, 1970]
It's hard to pick out just one song from a band that has meant so much to me, but this one has always been one of my favorites, and it represents what I appreciate most from the blues. The lyrics are fairly unspectacular - just your typical woman troubles (as is the case with so many blues songs) - but what matters is the intensity of the emotion that goes into the music. Maybe that's why I love the guitar so much - it speaks with intensity and emotion, without being bogged down by interpretation and meaning, the way words are. This song is the song that made me pick up the guitar.
Roy Buchanan - The Messiah Will Come Again
[American Axe, 1974]
I am not a religious person. I don't even believe in God. But it's a captivating fantasy, and it can inspire some very genuine emotions in people. My appreciation for this song is no less sincere on account of my disbelief in superstition. Roy Buchanan was a guitar virtuoso who truly had masterful control of the guitar. And this is his magnum opus, a piece both haunting and beautiful, in which he manages to coax otherworldly sounds out of his guitar. In addition to everything else one can say about this song, it demonstrates the power that music can have to move people - not just to get people moving.
Really, the point of this list is not to say that these are the 5 best songs ever recorded, without question - because, as we all know, musical taste is extremely subjective. The point is, rather, to demonstrate MY taste in music, just in case you're curious about "who I am" as a music fan - to show you what I like about music, and what sort of music moves me. That's why I'm limiting it to just 5 tracks, because I could go on and on for days about songs I like (and have - I used to host my own radio show in college, where they give you 100% creative control over the programming), but chances are your tastes don't match mine, and the more buffer room I allow, the easier it is for songs to slip in that really aren't the best of the best of the best (even in my opinion). Furthermore, this list is going to be about songs - songs that stand out, and represent what I like in music - at the expense of great albums and even some great artists.
The most obvious trend in the music I like is my appreciation for lead electric guitar, and extended "solo" guitar passages. I don't know what it is that draws me to the instrument, but more than anything else, that's what speaks to me. That partly explains my concentration in classic rock and blues music - two music styles that have a history of featuring not just guitar, and not even just electric guitar, but lead electric guitar. Two common things that I don't look for in music are a beat that I can dance to, and lyrics that mean something to me (which pretty much rules out pop music). Not that I don't appreciate songs with lyrics that have personal meaning, but that's really an afterthought. When I listen to music, I listen to the music and practically tune the lyrics out. I evaluate the vocals as an instrument, but I pretty much ignore the words the first five or ten times I listen to a song.
Pink Floyd - Careful With That Axe, Eugene
[Live at Pompeii, 1972]
Before Pink Floyd made record charting history with Dark Side of the Moon (one of my top favorite albums of all time), they were engaged in a period of experimentation. This track demonstrates the band's ability to create a captivating soundscape - in the ambient tradition - with a strongly spooky flavor. The way the song explodes into a crashing crescendo somewhere in the middle is indicative of my favorite aspect of post-rock music, which this song predates by decades.
Neil Young & Crazy Horse - Cowgirl in the Sand
[Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, 1969]
Even for an inspiring artist with a long discography, this song stands out. I have a long history with it, including the many times I've performed it myself on guitar (though not half as well as Neil and the Horse). Neil has said that he wrote this song while in a fever, and with the long, tortured instrumental passages, it's not hard to imagine. It's an excellent demonstration of Crazy Horse's ability to jam out on a hard rocking song, but more than any other in their discography, it's filled with a fevered intensity that seems to mirror the feelings of frustration and anxiety that plague my mind.
Robin Trower - Daydream
[Live, 1976]
Robin Trower is fabled for his thick and vibrant guitar tone, but among many unique and original interpretations of the blues and rock formats, this song stands out as an example of how pretty music can be - without sacrificing passion. It is a standing testament to the guitar as an instrument, and how it can be manipulated to create both beautiful melodies, and heart-wrenching solos. George Harrison sang about guitars weeping, but this is the real deal.
Led Zeppelin - Since I've Been Loving You
[Led Zeppelin III, 1970]
It's hard to pick out just one song from a band that has meant so much to me, but this one has always been one of my favorites, and it represents what I appreciate most from the blues. The lyrics are fairly unspectacular - just your typical woman troubles (as is the case with so many blues songs) - but what matters is the intensity of the emotion that goes into the music. Maybe that's why I love the guitar so much - it speaks with intensity and emotion, without being bogged down by interpretation and meaning, the way words are. This song is the song that made me pick up the guitar.
Roy Buchanan - The Messiah Will Come Again
[American Axe, 1974]
I am not a religious person. I don't even believe in God. But it's a captivating fantasy, and it can inspire some very genuine emotions in people. My appreciation for this song is no less sincere on account of my disbelief in superstition. Roy Buchanan was a guitar virtuoso who truly had masterful control of the guitar. And this is his magnum opus, a piece both haunting and beautiful, in which he manages to coax otherworldly sounds out of his guitar. In addition to everything else one can say about this song, it demonstrates the power that music can have to move people - not just to get people moving.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Revisiting The Cabin In The Woods
Warning: This post is about interpreting the movie The Cabin In The Woods, and as such, contains spoilers. Anyway, it will make much more sense to you after you've seen the movie. ;-)
I've been thinking pretty much nonstop about The Cabin in the Woods ever since I watched it a second time the other day (not by choice, but to show it to a friend). In spite of what I wrote in my review of it, I don't want people to think that I think it's a bad movie. As a horror movie, it's not very scary, but I'll admit it's fun, and yes, even clever. I like the tone of the film, and the way it plays around with the character tropes is smart. The whole idea of the control room and the interchangeable monsters is fascinating, as well.
But it kind of breaks down when the old gods are introduced. It's an intriguing plot point, but it doesn't completely make sense. And then I went on to read that fans are interpreting this movie as a critique of horror films. Which is an obvious conclusion given the way the film toys around with the usual cliches. But where the old gods are concerned, it's not so straightforward. A lot of people are saying the old gods are a symbolic representation of horror fans, who rise up and complain when a horror movie dares to break formula.
But that's never made sense to me - me, a horror fan who is far more familiar with other horror fans complaining that horror movies are too formulaic! Plus, it's downright offensive for me to watch a movie that purports to be horror, only to present the conclusion that horror movies are dull and formulaic because the horror fans demand it! And that's where a lot of my anger and distaste towards the film that was expressed in my review originated from.
After my second viewing, and going so far as to watch the audio commentary on the DVD, featuring Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard - the writers and director of the film - in the hope that they would explain what their intention for the movie's interpretation was (which they frustratingly avoided saying much about), I began to wonder if this whole "the old gods are horror fans" theory was just fan-generated pseudo-analysis. So I decided to query the members at IMDb, although I haven't found much evidence one way or another.
But, in discussing my thoughts with other fans - some of them very defensive - I have managed to reason out an exciting alternative interpretation of the film that not only makes more sense, but is far less offensive to me as a horror fan. If it holds any water, then my appreciation for this movie may just jump up a step or two (although I still think the fanbase has an attitude of excessive self-importance about the movie, and I don't actually credit the filmmakers for the cleverness of my interpretation because I don't believe they're that clever, unless they're willing to state on record that this, and not the other fan-generated garbage, was their intended interpretation for the film).
After rejecting the "horror fans" interpretation of the symbology of the old gods, I considered various other theories, such as the old gods representing mindless consumers (a more pointed and less scathing form of the audience interpretation), and the old gods representing the studio heads, who are interested in turning an easy profit at the expense of creativity. But, while both of these interpretations are less offensive than calling the old gods horror fans, neither of them entirely make sense, either.
So I ditched the consumerist perspective, and instead focused on a few lines from the film - spoken by the men in the control room, as well as the character 'The Director' at the end of the movie - about punishing the transgressions of youth, and I think I've come up with an interpretive theory that is both unoffensive to horror fans, and actually makes good sense! I will copy my IMDb post where I made this realization here, as it pretty well explains my theory.
Quoted from IMDb.com:
One of the things I can't wrap my head around is this idea that "the transgressions of youth must be punished". It is clear that in the tradition of slasher films, the characters who drink, toke, and have sex are quickly dispatched. What's not clear is why this is.
I mean, like, are these horror movies being made by our conservative elders? Are they trying to tell us, "misbehave, and you'll die"? It's like a classic bogeyman story. "The monster in the closet eats children who don't behave."
That sounds strangely like the psychology behind the "old gods" in this movie. They demand that young people be punished for their transgressions (which is why the virgin gets a free pass - although don't ask me why sex is the hinge more than any other factor).
But where it breaks down is trying to equate the old gods with horror fans. Your mother is the one who tells you that there will be consequences if you make bad decisions. Your mother isn't the person going out to watch horror movies because she loves to watch bad kids being punished. You're the one who watches it, because you love to see the sex and the drugs and the violence! Ironically, the conservative subtext is completely lost on you (for better or worse).
But the conclusion here is that the old gods can't be the fans. The old gods are this mysterious force that insists that horror movies carry a conservative subtext, to make up for its gratuitous entertainment value. I honestly don't know where that force resides. Perhaps partly in the minds of certain filmmakers who actually feel that way, although that's probably rare.
I feel like it has more to do with CRITICS of the horror genre - not fans, but people who hate the thought that other people watch this stuff for entertainment. People who think watching horror leads to committing acts of violence, and people who think sex and drugs and violence are immoral sources of entertainment. The people who came up with the Hays Code for example. Not people who love horror!
Of course, that begs the question of why people who hate horror have so much influence on how horror movies are made. And I would have loved to see a movie that pokes fun at that fact. But alas, the Cabin in the Woods can only have a shot at doing that if the old gods represent conservative busybodies - politicians and lobbyists and religious moralists. Hey, now that's a clever interpretation!
And, as an afterthought, that's why I love exploitation cinema. It's basically a huge middle finger - not to horror fans, thank you very much - but to the "old gods" who insist that immoral entertainment carry some kind of moral center. I'll work out my own damn morals for myself, thank you very much. =D
I've been thinking pretty much nonstop about The Cabin in the Woods ever since I watched it a second time the other day (not by choice, but to show it to a friend). In spite of what I wrote in my review of it, I don't want people to think that I think it's a bad movie. As a horror movie, it's not very scary, but I'll admit it's fun, and yes, even clever. I like the tone of the film, and the way it plays around with the character tropes is smart. The whole idea of the control room and the interchangeable monsters is fascinating, as well.
But it kind of breaks down when the old gods are introduced. It's an intriguing plot point, but it doesn't completely make sense. And then I went on to read that fans are interpreting this movie as a critique of horror films. Which is an obvious conclusion given the way the film toys around with the usual cliches. But where the old gods are concerned, it's not so straightforward. A lot of people are saying the old gods are a symbolic representation of horror fans, who rise up and complain when a horror movie dares to break formula.
But that's never made sense to me - me, a horror fan who is far more familiar with other horror fans complaining that horror movies are too formulaic! Plus, it's downright offensive for me to watch a movie that purports to be horror, only to present the conclusion that horror movies are dull and formulaic because the horror fans demand it! And that's where a lot of my anger and distaste towards the film that was expressed in my review originated from.
After my second viewing, and going so far as to watch the audio commentary on the DVD, featuring Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard - the writers and director of the film - in the hope that they would explain what their intention for the movie's interpretation was (which they frustratingly avoided saying much about), I began to wonder if this whole "the old gods are horror fans" theory was just fan-generated pseudo-analysis. So I decided to query the members at IMDb, although I haven't found much evidence one way or another.
But, in discussing my thoughts with other fans - some of them very defensive - I have managed to reason out an exciting alternative interpretation of the film that not only makes more sense, but is far less offensive to me as a horror fan. If it holds any water, then my appreciation for this movie may just jump up a step or two (although I still think the fanbase has an attitude of excessive self-importance about the movie, and I don't actually credit the filmmakers for the cleverness of my interpretation because I don't believe they're that clever, unless they're willing to state on record that this, and not the other fan-generated garbage, was their intended interpretation for the film).
After rejecting the "horror fans" interpretation of the symbology of the old gods, I considered various other theories, such as the old gods representing mindless consumers (a more pointed and less scathing form of the audience interpretation), and the old gods representing the studio heads, who are interested in turning an easy profit at the expense of creativity. But, while both of these interpretations are less offensive than calling the old gods horror fans, neither of them entirely make sense, either.
So I ditched the consumerist perspective, and instead focused on a few lines from the film - spoken by the men in the control room, as well as the character 'The Director' at the end of the movie - about punishing the transgressions of youth, and I think I've come up with an interpretive theory that is both unoffensive to horror fans, and actually makes good sense! I will copy my IMDb post where I made this realization here, as it pretty well explains my theory.
Quoted from IMDb.com:
One of the things I can't wrap my head around is this idea that "the transgressions of youth must be punished". It is clear that in the tradition of slasher films, the characters who drink, toke, and have sex are quickly dispatched. What's not clear is why this is.
I mean, like, are these horror movies being made by our conservative elders? Are they trying to tell us, "misbehave, and you'll die"? It's like a classic bogeyman story. "The monster in the closet eats children who don't behave."
That sounds strangely like the psychology behind the "old gods" in this movie. They demand that young people be punished for their transgressions (which is why the virgin gets a free pass - although don't ask me why sex is the hinge more than any other factor).
But where it breaks down is trying to equate the old gods with horror fans. Your mother is the one who tells you that there will be consequences if you make bad decisions. Your mother isn't the person going out to watch horror movies because she loves to watch bad kids being punished. You're the one who watches it, because you love to see the sex and the drugs and the violence! Ironically, the conservative subtext is completely lost on you (for better or worse).
But the conclusion here is that the old gods can't be the fans. The old gods are this mysterious force that insists that horror movies carry a conservative subtext, to make up for its gratuitous entertainment value. I honestly don't know where that force resides. Perhaps partly in the minds of certain filmmakers who actually feel that way, although that's probably rare.
I feel like it has more to do with CRITICS of the horror genre - not fans, but people who hate the thought that other people watch this stuff for entertainment. People who think watching horror leads to committing acts of violence, and people who think sex and drugs and violence are immoral sources of entertainment. The people who came up with the Hays Code for example. Not people who love horror!
Of course, that begs the question of why people who hate horror have so much influence on how horror movies are made. And I would have loved to see a movie that pokes fun at that fact. But alas, the Cabin in the Woods can only have a shot at doing that if the old gods represent conservative busybodies - politicians and lobbyists and religious moralists. Hey, now that's a clever interpretation!
And, as an afterthought, that's why I love exploitation cinema. It's basically a huge middle finger - not to horror fans, thank you very much - but to the "old gods" who insist that immoral entertainment carry some kind of moral center. I'll work out my own damn morals for myself, thank you very much. =D
Thursday, November 22, 2012
The Godfather Trilogy (1972, 1974, 1990)
Everybody talks about The Godfather as some of the greatest films ever made, so naturally I thought it was in my interest as a film buff to sit down and watch them sometime, although you might be surprised to learn that it's taken me this long to do so. I had noticed The Godfather being played on television on Thanksgiving in years past, and this year I was watching a lot of movies in the wake of Halloween season, so I figured it was a great time to finally watch The Godfather trilogy, and see what all the hype was about.
And I won't go on for very long, because I'm not some obsessed Godfather fanboy, I'm just gonna tell you my opinion of the movies. I think they were very good movies - I definitely can't say I hated them, or that they sucked. However, I do think they are overhyped. Greatest movie(s) of all time? Dunno about that. I was actually expecting more gangster brutality from the series, but I had a revelation after watching them that explained to me why these movies are popular for Thanksgiving. It's because the Godfather isn't really about gangsters, it's about family.
And that's actually what I thought was most intriguing about the first Godfather movie. Especially given his reputation in our social culture, I was expecting The Godfather to be this really intimidating guy - and there's a hint of that in the excellent opening scene. But I was wondering, how is this movie going to make me sympathize with a mob boss - a guy who goes around having people whacked and dealing in criminal enterprise? And the answer is, well, they made The Godfather this really reasonable guy, who above all values his family, and honors the people who show him respect. A guy who doesn't really see himself as a 'murderer' so much as a businessman, and who makes a point not to mix business with personal issues.
I would have liked to have seen more of Marlon Brando as The Godfather throughout the series. He was excellent. I think Al Pacino is a fine actor, but as The Godfather's son, who eventually takes over the family, he just wasn't as charismatic as Marlon Brando. People talk about his fantastic acting performance in The Godfather movies, and maybe he was good, but I don't know, he just didn't have the charisma. I think he was a lot more interesting in Scarface, for example. And, this is a weird quirk, but I couldn't help thinking that in this role, the young Al Pacino looked at times strangely like Adam Sandler. I don't kow, maybe it's just me.
A lot of people say The Godfather Part II is better than the first part, and a perfect masterpiece of cinema. I don't know that I would agree. The theme of Part II seems to be Al Pacino's character's journey as new head of the Corleone family, in which everything pretty much goes wrong and he ends up inadvertently tearing the family apart. It's a very sad story, almost in the vein of classical Greek tragedy, and for that reason it's surprising I didn't like it even more than the first part, because I love a good tragedy.
But I think the first movie really shines, partly because of Marlon Brando's performance, and how it sort of introduces you to this world of the mafia, and also because it shows the transformation in Al Pacino's character. He starts out as the one son of The Godfather who isn't interested in the family business - a "civilian" as his brothers put it - but who gets pulled in when the family's enemies put a hit on the Don. The scene where he meets the two guys for dinner, to make a deal regarding the protection of his father in the hospital, was so tense - in this case, Al Pacino's acting was definitely top notch. I could feel the anxiety of the scene - the fear that he would be found out and killed before he could kill his enemies was palpable.
So I actually liked Part I better than Part II, and wouldn't say that Part II is the "best sequel of all time", and certainly not "the best movie ever made". As for Part III, there's definitely a break in continuity as it was filmed in 1990 while the other two came back to back in the '70s. But where people love to lambaste the third part (almost like how I consider Alien: Resurrection to not exist), I didn't think it was that bad. And it does do a good job of wrapping up the series, by finishing the telling of the tale of Michael Corleone. And maybe it's because I didn't think Part I and Part II were so good in the first place, that the fact that Part III is maybe not as well put together doesn't stand out so much to me.
So there you have it. I'll reiterate that I actually liked the movies, and thought they were very good. (If a little long, being a three part series clocking in at around 9 hours all together). But I do think they're a tad overhyped, as I didn't find them to be, without a doubt, the greatest movies I'd ever seen, and not among my top favorites either. But then again, gangster movies - though I do enjoy a good one - aren't personally my favorite genre. Oh, and you know, people talk about how movies like this "glorify" the mafia. Actually, this story is pretty tragic, but rather than glorify the mafia, I thought it was interesting because it actually humanizes the mafia. For better or worse. There are other films out there that do much worse in terms of "glorifying" mob violence.
And I won't go on for very long, because I'm not some obsessed Godfather fanboy, I'm just gonna tell you my opinion of the movies. I think they were very good movies - I definitely can't say I hated them, or that they sucked. However, I do think they are overhyped. Greatest movie(s) of all time? Dunno about that. I was actually expecting more gangster brutality from the series, but I had a revelation after watching them that explained to me why these movies are popular for Thanksgiving. It's because the Godfather isn't really about gangsters, it's about family.
And that's actually what I thought was most intriguing about the first Godfather movie. Especially given his reputation in our social culture, I was expecting The Godfather to be this really intimidating guy - and there's a hint of that in the excellent opening scene. But I was wondering, how is this movie going to make me sympathize with a mob boss - a guy who goes around having people whacked and dealing in criminal enterprise? And the answer is, well, they made The Godfather this really reasonable guy, who above all values his family, and honors the people who show him respect. A guy who doesn't really see himself as a 'murderer' so much as a businessman, and who makes a point not to mix business with personal issues.
I would have liked to have seen more of Marlon Brando as The Godfather throughout the series. He was excellent. I think Al Pacino is a fine actor, but as The Godfather's son, who eventually takes over the family, he just wasn't as charismatic as Marlon Brando. People talk about his fantastic acting performance in The Godfather movies, and maybe he was good, but I don't know, he just didn't have the charisma. I think he was a lot more interesting in Scarface, for example. And, this is a weird quirk, but I couldn't help thinking that in this role, the young Al Pacino looked at times strangely like Adam Sandler. I don't kow, maybe it's just me.
A lot of people say The Godfather Part II is better than the first part, and a perfect masterpiece of cinema. I don't know that I would agree. The theme of Part II seems to be Al Pacino's character's journey as new head of the Corleone family, in which everything pretty much goes wrong and he ends up inadvertently tearing the family apart. It's a very sad story, almost in the vein of classical Greek tragedy, and for that reason it's surprising I didn't like it even more than the first part, because I love a good tragedy.
But I think the first movie really shines, partly because of Marlon Brando's performance, and how it sort of introduces you to this world of the mafia, and also because it shows the transformation in Al Pacino's character. He starts out as the one son of The Godfather who isn't interested in the family business - a "civilian" as his brothers put it - but who gets pulled in when the family's enemies put a hit on the Don. The scene where he meets the two guys for dinner, to make a deal regarding the protection of his father in the hospital, was so tense - in this case, Al Pacino's acting was definitely top notch. I could feel the anxiety of the scene - the fear that he would be found out and killed before he could kill his enemies was palpable.
So I actually liked Part I better than Part II, and wouldn't say that Part II is the "best sequel of all time", and certainly not "the best movie ever made". As for Part III, there's definitely a break in continuity as it was filmed in 1990 while the other two came back to back in the '70s. But where people love to lambaste the third part (almost like how I consider Alien: Resurrection to not exist), I didn't think it was that bad. And it does do a good job of wrapping up the series, by finishing the telling of the tale of Michael Corleone. And maybe it's because I didn't think Part I and Part II were so good in the first place, that the fact that Part III is maybe not as well put together doesn't stand out so much to me.
So there you have it. I'll reiterate that I actually liked the movies, and thought they were very good. (If a little long, being a three part series clocking in at around 9 hours all together). But I do think they're a tad overhyped, as I didn't find them to be, without a doubt, the greatest movies I'd ever seen, and not among my top favorites either. But then again, gangster movies - though I do enjoy a good one - aren't personally my favorite genre. Oh, and you know, people talk about how movies like this "glorify" the mafia. Actually, this story is pretty tragic, but rather than glorify the mafia, I thought it was interesting because it actually humanizes the mafia. For better or worse. There are other films out there that do much worse in terms of "glorifying" mob violence.
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