Alright, this is tenuously connected to the death of Leslie Nielsen. Just...humor me. The death of Leslie Nielsen-an actor I've liked since I was about nine years old, despite the vast number of terrible movies he's been in-surprised me by actually making me quite sad. I wasn't even looking forward to any forthcoming movies of his, I just had an appreciation for the man, his attitude, and his body of work. It was like losing a distant uncle who you rarely see, but have fond memories of.
The reason this surprised me is that I rarely feel personally effected by celebrity deaths. I feel bad for their families, etc. etc., but I never feel a sense of personal loss. I only know of these people through their movies, but their movies will still exist long after they're gone, so that connection isn't lost. I know, I sound like a horrible person, but then again I am kind of a horrible person.
But deaths like Leslie Nielsen's are a reminder to me of how deeply films can effect us, and make us feel personal loss even when nature says we shouldn't. That's why I really like when movies succeed at making me legitimately sad. It brings out an aspect of myself I'm not normally comfortable with-grief.
So this is my longwinded way of introducing a selection of incredibly sad scenes that should make your entire brain cry (Community reference). Naturally, there are spoilers galore. If you see a title of a movie you haven't seen and plan to see (and you should plan to see most of these) then I suggest you look away.
1. Kick-Ass
The last movie I ever expected to bring me close to tears was a superhero comedy featuring Nicolas Cage as a batman-wannabe, but Kick-Ass succeeded with flying colors.
The death of said batman-wannabe (known as Big Daddy) by fire starts out darkly hilarious, becomes awesome, and then ends by being incredibly sad. What makes it work is the offbeat-yet-believable daughter-father relationship between Big Daddy and Hit Girl. They may be psychotic killers, but they do have a strangely moving relationship. They each risk their lives multiple times to save the other. They have a genuine, fun rapport. And in a weird way, Big Daddy seems like a really cool Dad who makes hot chocolate, takes his girl bowling, and only uses low-velocity rounds to shoot her.
The thing is, you don't realize how much you like these characters until you lose them or see them suffer. This scene alone is what got me to watch Kick-Ass three times in one week and recommend it to every friend in sight.
2. Talk Radio
On a subtler note is the mental breakdown of Eric Bogosian's abrasive talk-show host. This is relatively spoiler-free, since there isn't much of a plot twist or ending in this scene. Still, there's something heartbreaking about watching somebody who desperately needs to come to terms with his own failures and shortcomings taking out all of his self-loathing on his audience, even if his audience does deserve the verbal lashing he inflicts upon them.
This film is phenomenal, and criminally underrated. I don't particularly like Oliver Stone, but I think he and Bogosian did an amazing job with Talk Radio.
3. The Fellowship of the Rings
I love the Lord of the Rings films, but I don't think the second two films ever approached the emotional intensity of the first film's climax. The entire thing makes me feel like tearing up, particularly Frodo flashing back to Gandalf's "that is an encouraging thought" speech, but it's the heroic death of Boromir-a character we haven't even seen much of, but still identify with as the flawed human character in need of redemption-that really gets the eyeballs juiced.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20w-nuLcneU&feature=related
By the time you get to the final film, you've already seen several dozen heroic deaths, so you're a bit too exhausted to shed any more tears. Here though, Jackson hits all of the right notes. The sound editing, the music, and the few moments of silence (and there isn't a lot of silence in these movies), all add up to a beautiful scene. Even though Boromir's fate is sealed with the first arrow in his chest, you still hope that he'll survive just a little bit longer.
4. Schindler's List
I know. Saying Schindler's List is sad is like saying rain makes you feel curiously wet. The reason I include it here is because the scene in particular is not a graphic depiction of jews being slaughtered or of a red-dressed girl being tossed in a fiery pit. It's a monologue from Liam Neeson, in which he laments the jews he did not save by being selfish in a way that we often take for granted; keeping his car, keeping a simple pin, keeping a little bit of gold. It brings home the hopeless enormity of the holocaust more effectively than a thousand scenes of random prisoners being shot.
It's a solid demonstration of some good, heartfelt writing being more effective than a hundred grisly images. Of course, having said that, I know turn to...
5. Reservoir Dogs
I don't think anybody in the history of film criticism has brought up Reservoir Dogs as being a sad movie, but damn if that final shot of Harvey Keitel doesn't tug at my heartstrings. The man has given up everything he ever worked for, and even killed his oldest friends, and all for a man who was lying to him the entire film. He's compromised all of his values in a final bid for redemption, and he's been stabbed in the back.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1c0FN8ajIlY
Not that you can't feel bad for Mr. Orange. He's in a position where he has no choice but to betray someone who has essentially sacrificed his life for him. He's about to die as a result of a sting mission that should have been easy as cake.
6. Synecdoche, New York
Let me preface this by saying that Synecdoche, New York will either make you completely rethink your entire life, perspective, values, and goals, or you will disregard it as arrogant bullshit. I'm clearly in the former category. I love this film. Nothing has ever made me think about life in the way this film did.
I could have taken five or six scenes from the film and stuck them in here, but I settled on Sammy's suicide. Of course, now I have to explain the plot, which is a daunting task in its own right. So Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is directing a massive play that depicts every single person in his life and experience-no matter how small and insignificant they may seem-reading the same lines as they would in their daily lives. Sammy is playing Caden himself, but has also fallen in love with Hazel, Caden's box office manager. Hazel restarts her affair with Caden, prompting Sammy's suicide.
It's particularly tragic, because even though Sammy is merely a player portraying Caden, he is considerably more human than the man he is portraying. Caden has become so self-absorbed and obsessed with his overambitious creative work that he has completely left Sammy behind. Saying goodbye to Sammy is like saying goodbye to the last bit of humanity Caden has left.
7. Moon
I know I already issued a spoiler warning for this entire entry, but I’m restating it for Moon. Don’t read this if you haven’t seen Moon. In fact, don’t read anything about Moon if you haven’t seen it, just see it. No, there isn’t a magnificent Usual Suspects twist at the end, but there are a number of twists that you won’t see coming even if you think you know what’s coming. Just see Moon. It’s terrific, I promise.
That said, the scene that made this list comes right after the magnificent twist I just denied the existence of (don’t tell the people who haven’t seen it, all of you have seen Moon). Sam Bell finds out that he is a clone, and that all of his memories never directly happened to him. Furthermore, he is engineered to die very soon. The only sympathy comes from GERTY, the robot we were all expecting to turn on Sam and kill him.
It’s existential horror turned into existential sadness, with a cute robot crying thrown in for good measure. What’s not to weep at?
8. Return of the Jedi
It’s funny; Star Wars has become such a phenomenon as a franchise with a massive, ever-expanding mythology that it’s rare to see the original films discussed as actual films. I’ve seen plenty of “sad movie lists” and I’ve never seen the death of Yoda mentioned. It’s sad when a grandfather figure dies, and it’s sadder when a cute muppet dies, and Yoda is arguably both.
As a kid, this scene was incredibly sad even with the knowledge that Yoda would just show up again as a blue sparkle-ghost. This was before the Star Wars novels turned death from a tragic occurrence into something more along the lines of a minor inconvenience. Dead Jedi now appear with irritating frequency, their spirits kept alive by Holocrons or clones or some other bullshit. Whereas Obi-Wan and Yoda only seemed to show up as ghosts when Luke was in a Jedi trance or something, death loses its meaning in fiction when anybody can be summoned or brought back seemingly at will (look at comic books).
Add the gut-punch that is the confirmation that Darth Vader is Luke's father, and you have a low key scene that brings out many emotions in the viewer. The kind of scene the prequels never managed to craft.
This was also before Yoda was turned into a bouncing, psychopathic monkey-wizard with disastrous shortsightedness regarding little kids and senators.
9. Requiem for a Dream
It’s a small moment in a soul-tearing series of scenes that show the lives of the four protagonists growing progressively worse, but I think the saddest moment of Requiem for a Dream comes when Sarah Goldfarb’s friends visit her in the mental hospital. Just their immediate reactions to her haggard appearance, and the shot of them weeping outside is enough to remind you that what’s happening will effect more than just our four heroes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuzNohk5cYw
I’ve often reflected that my fear of death stems more from the grief that my nearest and dearest would suffer at my passing, and less from an actual fear of dying. That’s what this scene brings home to me; the reminder that our self-destructive ways can hurt our friends as much as they hurt us..
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Spider-Man: Another big, stupid, musical disaster
Since we're on the topic of big-budget, horrible musicals, I'd like to turn your attention to this:
This is one of many images from the actual upcoming Broadway musical; "Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark" (as in "dammit, who left the dark on? I told them a thousand times; before you leave the house, you have to turn off the dark.") Julie Taymor, who has done the impossible in the past by bringing "The Lion King" to the Broadway stage and getting a huge amount of acclaim for it, is directing. Note that she has also directed "Titus" and "Across the Universe"; the latter of which was astounding visually, but utterly moronic story-wise.
Meanwhile, Bono-who it should be noted, has never composed a Broadway musical (or anything remotely approaching a Broadway musical)-is putting together the music. The villains featured are Carnage, The Green Goblin, Swiss Miss (created for the show), and a new villain based on greek mythology. According to various sources around the internet, Swarm and Kraven the Hunter are also going to be in it, but it's difficult to determine how much of this is just hearsay. But hey, at least we can see the Swiss Miss...
Okay, seriously? What the hell is that? Is that C-3P0's awkward sister? Madonna playing the Tin Man? What is that?
Also, what kind of a name is "Swiss Miss"? Really? I guess the point is that he (she? it?) is a swiss-army-knife themed villain. Alright, excusing the fact that that's the kind of villain a 7-year old would come up with, why would you name a knife themed villain "swiss miss"? That doesn't inspire fear. It makes me want to brew some hot chocolate and go hiking. Plus, just look at how impractical that costume is for someone who's planning on doing a lot of fighting. It's so awkward and off balance-you can barely move your arms, you can't really crouch, and a blunt object to your chest would knock you over, leaving you squirming to get back up. Maybe it looks cool when a ballet dancer is prancing around in it, but most supervillains aren't trying to impress an audience with their skillful pirouettes.
I mean, seriously, you couldn't have just found another villain who already exists? Why are Julie Taymor and Glen Berger writing this script when you could have paired one of them off with somebody who actually writes and understands comic books? I mean, somebody must have done some research on these characters. Because after all, they put a lesser-known character like Carnage in the mix...
THAT's not carnage! That's what a carnage toy would look like if you cooked it in the microwave on high for three minutes! This is a professional costume design? Not only is that not a good Carnage costume, it's not a good costume, period!
I mean, if you needed to pull off a high-concept villain onstage, why not someone like Sandman, or Dr. Octopus? You know, somebody who DIDN't have to wear a stupid-looking halloween mask for the entirety of the production?
Look, I'm not going to complain about what they left out, what they screwed up, and how they got the comics wrong. This isn't a film, there's no CGI, and there are going to be a lot of compromises made with the original material.
That said, this looks poised to be an epic disaster. Not only is it continuing the desperate trend of Broadway trying to be more like the movies by adapting literally anything popular into a big, forced production, but it's making every mistake a Spider-Man movie could possibly make. Look at what this show is trying to do for a story: it's trying to tell Spider-Man's origins (including the death of Uncle Ben shown in shadow-puppet form), show off upwards of 4 villains, integrate musical numbers and elaborate stunts, and all for an audience (Broadway regulars) that probably has only a passing familiarity with the source material.
Meanwhile, the show has been delayed twice (most recently due to a couple of stunt-man injuries) and will be opening in January-well past the holiday rush. Spider-Man isn't exactly a hot property right now, either, seeing as how his last film was a poorly received threequel three years ago, his comics have been suffering since the "One More Day" fiasco, and his new film won't be out for a few years. Comics fans probably won't be too interested in seeing a freakish troll version of Green Goblin flying around on a hang-glider, theater fans aren't exactly waiting on bated breath for Bono's Broadway debut, and comic book fans who are also theater fans (myself) are too poor to go see this (I may be projecting a little, though). I have a feeling this will be an incredible bomb. Then again, I thought "Avatar" was going to be a massive flop.
Honestly though, I don't want this to succeed. I don't want Broadway to smell a hit in every comic book property. I don't want "Batman: Turn off the Dark Knight", or "Iron Man: Turn off the Mark-1", or "Watchmen-Nite Owl gets Turned On". If I thought that this show was borne out of some genuinely brilliant experimental vision wherein pop-culture and elitist theatricality were melded into some sort of Baroque masterpiece, then I might be willing to give it a chance. But those pictures only demonstrate a desperate desire to cram as many neat comic-booky things onstage as possible, with little understanding of what makes these characters and their associated images so special in the first place.
All images are viewable here.
Oh, and can we please stop putting "Ka-Pow!" into the title of every single comic-book related article? Please?
This is one of many images from the actual upcoming Broadway musical; "Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark" (as in "dammit, who left the dark on? I told them a thousand times; before you leave the house, you have to turn off the dark.") Julie Taymor, who has done the impossible in the past by bringing "The Lion King" to the Broadway stage and getting a huge amount of acclaim for it, is directing. Note that she has also directed "Titus" and "Across the Universe"; the latter of which was astounding visually, but utterly moronic story-wise.
Meanwhile, Bono-who it should be noted, has never composed a Broadway musical (or anything remotely approaching a Broadway musical)-is putting together the music. The villains featured are Carnage, The Green Goblin, Swiss Miss (created for the show), and a new villain based on greek mythology. According to various sources around the internet, Swarm and Kraven the Hunter are also going to be in it, but it's difficult to determine how much of this is just hearsay. But hey, at least we can see the Swiss Miss...
Okay, seriously? What the hell is that? Is that C-3P0's awkward sister? Madonna playing the Tin Man? What is that?Also, what kind of a name is "Swiss Miss"? Really? I guess the point is that he (she? it?) is a swiss-army-knife themed villain. Alright, excusing the fact that that's the kind of villain a 7-year old would come up with, why would you name a knife themed villain "swiss miss"? That doesn't inspire fear. It makes me want to brew some hot chocolate and go hiking. Plus, just look at how impractical that costume is for someone who's planning on doing a lot of fighting. It's so awkward and off balance-you can barely move your arms, you can't really crouch, and a blunt object to your chest would knock you over, leaving you squirming to get back up. Maybe it looks cool when a ballet dancer is prancing around in it, but most supervillains aren't trying to impress an audience with their skillful pirouettes.
I mean, seriously, you couldn't have just found another villain who already exists? Why are Julie Taymor and Glen Berger writing this script when you could have paired one of them off with somebody who actually writes and understands comic books? I mean, somebody must have done some research on these characters. Because after all, they put a lesser-known character like Carnage in the mix...
THAT's not carnage! That's what a carnage toy would look like if you cooked it in the microwave on high for three minutes! This is a professional costume design? Not only is that not a good Carnage costume, it's not a good costume, period!
I mean, if you needed to pull off a high-concept villain onstage, why not someone like Sandman, or Dr. Octopus? You know, somebody who DIDN't have to wear a stupid-looking halloween mask for the entirety of the production?
Look, I'm not going to complain about what they left out, what they screwed up, and how they got the comics wrong. This isn't a film, there's no CGI, and there are going to be a lot of compromises made with the original material.
That said, this looks poised to be an epic disaster. Not only is it continuing the desperate trend of Broadway trying to be more like the movies by adapting literally anything popular into a big, forced production, but it's making every mistake a Spider-Man movie could possibly make. Look at what this show is trying to do for a story: it's trying to tell Spider-Man's origins (including the death of Uncle Ben shown in shadow-puppet form), show off upwards of 4 villains, integrate musical numbers and elaborate stunts, and all for an audience (Broadway regulars) that probably has only a passing familiarity with the source material.
Meanwhile, the show has been delayed twice (most recently due to a couple of stunt-man injuries) and will be opening in January-well past the holiday rush. Spider-Man isn't exactly a hot property right now, either, seeing as how his last film was a poorly received threequel three years ago, his comics have been suffering since the "One More Day" fiasco, and his new film won't be out for a few years. Comics fans probably won't be too interested in seeing a freakish troll version of Green Goblin flying around on a hang-glider, theater fans aren't exactly waiting on bated breath for Bono's Broadway debut, and comic book fans who are also theater fans (myself) are too poor to go see this (I may be projecting a little, though). I have a feeling this will be an incredible bomb. Then again, I thought "Avatar" was going to be a massive flop.
Honestly though, I don't want this to succeed. I don't want Broadway to smell a hit in every comic book property. I don't want "Batman: Turn off the Dark Knight", or "Iron Man: Turn off the Mark-1", or "Watchmen-Nite Owl gets Turned On". If I thought that this show was borne out of some genuinely brilliant experimental vision wherein pop-culture and elitist theatricality were melded into some sort of Baroque masterpiece, then I might be willing to give it a chance. But those pictures only demonstrate a desperate desire to cram as many neat comic-booky things onstage as possible, with little understanding of what makes these characters and their associated images so special in the first place.
All images are viewable here.
Oh, and can we please stop putting "Ka-Pow!" into the title of every single comic-book related article? Please?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Ok, it's final
I officially hate Glee.
Seriously, this brings me nothing but pain. The watered-down and obnoxiously censored lyrics, Gwyneth Paltrow trying to be sassy, the unbelievably obvious autotuning...I'm sorry. I hate Glee. It's official.
That said, I don't think I ever have to write anything about it ever again. I'm done. It's finished. I'm not going to watch any more. It's gone from being a good show to being an interesting trainwreck, then to being a trainwreck, and finally to being a complete waste of time. I don't even want to watch the show to see how much worse it gets, because frankly, I don't think it can possibly get any worse than this.
I mean, seriously. You put a bunch of white kids in a band room with Gwyneth Paltrow-the whitest person in the world-censor all of the lyrics to "Fuck You", and you expect the song to have anything close to the power and absurdly hilarious joy that Cee Lo Green brings to it?
The song is a soul number, for crying out loud! The least you could do is give it to the one soul singer in the cast: Mercedes. But no, you didn't put this song into the show because you know anything about music, did you? You shoehorned this song into the episode because it's popular and will bring in millions in iTunes downloads. Fine. Revel in your goddamn riches, you hacks. Just feast at the table of the almighty dollar. I hope you choke on a Missouri quarter.
Okay, good. I've gotten it out of my system. I don't ever have to devote a blog post to Glee again. I can turn to other interests. Right now, I'm going to watch this until my mind is completely scrubbed of anything Gwyneth Paltrow-related. Besides Iron Man.
Friday, November 12, 2010
This is a repost of something I wrote a few years ago, but you probably never read it, so it's new to you
I'm putting this up for two reasons. 1) I seriously am exhausted tonight, and even though I know I should be updating my blog on a weekly basis, I literally can't think of a thing to say. 2) I like to look at my old writing to see how much has changed since I wrote things like this two years ago. As you can tell, I was a lot angrier. It's a good thing I'm in a relationship now.
I was driving through Meredith today, going to a highly unnecessary orthodontist appointment, when a sign in front of the Meredith Baptist Church caught my eye. It was one of those stupid religious billboards with trite sayings that neither communicate any intelligent commentary on faith, nor communicate anything intelligent at all. Usually, I just ignore these signs and go on my merry Roman Catholic way, but today the sign I saw angered me with its blatant disregard for any sort of mathematical, logical, or downright common sense.
THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE NOT THINGS
I'm sorry, what?
That makes sense how?
Okay, then what are the best things in life? Are you saying the best things in life are logical contradictions?
I mean just think about it. In mathematical terms, what you're essentially saying here is "x does not equal x". You CAN'T DO THAT! It doesn't make sense!
In Aristotelian logic, you would have to sum this sentence up in the following argument.
1. Some things (x) are the best things (y) (Assuming that there are "best things")
2. No things (x) are the best things (y) (re-arranged from THE BEST THINGS ARE NOT THINGS)
3. Conclusion: Some things (x) are not things (x)
4. Conclusion: People who make signs (z) are idiots (k)
Already, if we go by the square of opposition, we can see that what we have here is a contradiction. Actually, you know what? You don't even need a square of opposition. IT'S SO FREAKING OBVIOUS!
I noticed that-with very little effort-you could arrange the letters on this sign to say THE HINGES ARE NOT HINGES. And you might as well. Because it MAKES ABOUT THE SAME AMOUNT OF SENSE.
Okay, I get what they're saying with this sign. They're saying "Hey, you shouldn't worry about material possessions ("things") so much because (either God or your family or...I dunno, fruit roll ups maybe) are the best things in life. And they're not things! Doesn't that make them good things?". Well, in that case, what the hell is the definition for a thing? You're saying (God or your family or whatever) is not a thing. Says who? If a "thing" is an object in space, then hell, maybe a person is a thing in the strictly literal sense. A person is totally an object in space, although it has the capabilities and sentience to distinguish it from non-sentient objects. But fine, we'll all agree that calling a person a "thing" is kind of derogatory, so they're not really things. We'll limit "things" to non-living objects, like an X-Box or a poop sculpture. Well then, why bother even classifying (people or God or whatever) as "the best things" in the first place? You're trying to have your cake and eat it too, aren't you? It's the equivalent of a dumbass husband saying to his wife "you're the best thing in my life!.....not that I think of you as a thing or anything...Not like you're just an object to me...a dishwasher, specifically..."
So don't even bother with the Oscar nominees this year, because according to the Baptists it's quite possible to nominate your grandparents for Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Animated Short. When the audience screams in protest as Granny Meredith mounts the stage to take her Best Supporting Actress Oscar, you can go up to the podium and say "Hey, hey, hey, look. The best supporting actresses are not actresses, okay?"
Writer's Block
I'm having a real hard time coming up with things to write about these days.
......
...
Um, that's it.
(cue laughter).
No laughs?
Okay. I guess that wasn't funny.
Damn. Now I have to come up with something to write about.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Character Design, Part 1: Avatar vs. LOTR
If you, like me, have any interest in screenwriting, playwriting, or writing for comics, then you should definitely check out Jack Monahan’s design blog, specifically this entry. Yes, it’s geared towards videogame design, and I’ve never even played the game he’s talking about, but a great deal of it can apply to . My interests are geared more towards writing and directing than towards visual and costume design, but I always try to have some sort of visual basis for the characters I’m trying to convey before I start a new project.
Monahan’s entry does a great job demonstrating just how important variety is when you’re assembling an ensemble of characters. If they all look the same and act the same, what’s the point of having so many of them? Why should we care what happens to one character over another character?
This especially holds true of stylized genres set in a world with which we have no familiarity, i.e. sci-fi and fantasy. A cast of colorful, unique characters each with decisively different personalities, looks, and backgrounds will help us feel more immersed in a fully realized world.
Whereas, if we’re thrown into a fantasy setting with a bunch of generic looking knights, all of whom are stoic nobles who believe in chivalry, we become spectators; we’re just watching archetypes going through the motions of doing archetype-y things. We’re no longer immersed in the world; we’re fully outside of it, and we’re fully aware that we’re watching something that can only exist in fiction.
Not that it's a bad movie, but did you really care when any of them bit the dust?
Ok, ok. This is getting pretty pedantic. In fact, me saying the word pedantic is pretty pedantic in itself. So let’s go to some examples. Basically, I’m describing the difference between reading “The Fellowship of the Rings” and watching “Avatar”, a film I loathe (I’ll elaborate more on that in a later blog post). Let’s look at the Fellowship of the Ring.
It's a pretty distinct group of characters, each one different enough to potentially come into conflict or bond with any of the others. Even their poses separates them into distinct individuals. We have a vast array of possible interactions, clashes, and friendships. Because these characters are each so different, the fantastical events that ensue will elicit a wide range of reactions, which will help us absorb the otherworldly nature of it all. Let's look at who we have. We've got the gruff, down-to-earth dwarf, the inexperienced hobbits, the wise old wizard, the mysterious and aloof ranger, the nobleman, and the mystical elf. Even if you'd never seen the movie, you'd be able to pick out each of those characters just from the picture, and my description of them. Each character has a distinct look that separates him from his companions.
We have Aragorn, the mystery man, who has lived in the wild. He’s a skilled ranger, used to surviving in the wild. Everything about his design conveys that; the stubble, the long, unkempt hair, the dark, camouflage clothes…and yet there’s a quiet confidence to him that comes across in Viggo Mortensen’s performance that suggests that he wouldn’t be ought of place leading an army. With a minimal amount of dialogue, we've established that he's going to be the one to take charge when things get rough.
Compare that with:
Jake Sully, whose name I had to look up on imdb because I had no idea what it was. I compare him to Aragorn, because he fulfills a pretty similar function; he's the outsider overcoming adversity to eventually lead a giant army against a terrible threat. I'm talking about Sully's look as a Na'vi, which is the form he inhabits whenever he's doing anything important to the plot. We have no visual clues to tell us what makes Jake Na’vi any different from the other thousand Na’vi in the film. Hold that image up to the image of any other alien in the movie, and you'd have no idea what sets him apart and makes him worth our attention.
My biggest issue with the praise heaped on Avatar is that the Na’vi design is not really all that practical from a storytelling standpoint. Yes, it looks pretty realistic, but realism comes at the expense of visual clarity. All of the Na’vi look exactly the same, except for the hair, on occasion. Look at a sea of na’vi, and it’s not much different from looking at an army of smurfs. The variety between them is so subtle that it's virtually unnoticeable. If we’re expected to take this race seriously and empathize with them as though they were human beings, we should get a variety of na'vi with different poses and looks, and attitudes.
And not just a sea of copy-pasted computerized images. Seriously, look at that second picture. Look at the guy in the foreground on the leftmost side of the screen, and then the guy in the foreground on the rightmost side. They're the SAME GUY.
Every Na’vi acts the same, looks the same, dresses the same, and talks the same. It makes for a pretty boring group of characters. Why should I watch them?
Contrast with:
Boromir, who despite being human, like Aragorn clearly comes from a significantly different upbringing and history. His armor is cleaned up, his beard is trimmed, his colors suggest nobility. Even if you knew nothing about the Lord of the Rings and Middle Earth, you could tell just from a glance that these two had lived significantly different lives. This act of inferring sparks our imagination and engages us in the world we’re watching.
Contrast with:
Tsu'tey.
If you just said, “who?” than congratulations. You remember as much of Avatar as I do. You might argue that Tsu'tey has a sillier haircut than Jake Sully, but seriously. Look at some of those other pictures from before. That haircut is everywhere. It seems totally arbitrary who has a silly haircut and who doesn’t. If we were to look at him from a distance, we probably would have no idea what makes him special or different from the rest of the million Na’vi.
Alright, you might argue that this comparison is unfair, because we only see one tribe of Na’vi, and we see dozens of races in nobilities in Fellowship of the Rings. Fair enough. So let’s look at just one relatively alien race, and four characters who all come from the exact same town, the exact same social class, and who are exactly the same age.
Yes, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.
You might get Merry and Pippin's names confused, but I’m guessing that if you look at any decent LOTR artwork, you’ll at least be able to tell who Frodo and Sam are, and then work out the other two later.
These are four hobbits who all grew up in the same environment, yet everything about them suggests differing personalities that will react differently to extreme circumstances.
Frodo is always the most innocent, vulnerable looking one. Sam is always the most doggedly determined. Pippin and Merry are always a little bewildered, suggesting their youth, but they never look as vulnerable as Frodo. Merry particularly looks ready to take charge, especially in this shot. Once they actually start talking, their distinct personalities shine through even more, clarifying their different personalities, and reinforcing what their images suggest. There’s no way you’ll get them confused (well, maybe you’ll get Merry and Pippin’s names mixed up, but that’s just a whole Tom Stoppard situation right there).
Compare with:
Seriously, is there any difference between looking at this image and looking at an army of toy soldiers? They’re all so uniform and bland, it becomes virtually impossible to pick any one out and identify with him.
Now, what bothers me so much is that this wasn’t entirely inevitable. Yes, making each Na’vi look different to the degree that humans do would have been an incredibly expensive and time-consuming task for an already incredibly expensive and time-consuming film.
However, let’s turn to the film that anyone who wants an Avatar alternative should see: “District 9”. On the surface, it seems like all of the prawns look exactly the same, but the differences are there and subtle enough that we can at least pick the most important ones out of a lineup. Neil Blomkampf made sure that Christopher Johnson, the most important prawn, and his son had the widest range of facial expressions of all the prawns. This means that we can immediately tell them apart from the rest on a subconscious level, even if our brains are doing it subconsciously. Johnson also carries himself in the most upright, dignified manner of all the prawns we see, while his son scuttles around in a hunched position. If we were to stick them in a lineup, that would be enough to tell us who they were. Christopher Johnson will be the one who’s upright, and his son will be the one who’s hunched.
But more important than that, the rest of the prawns are very different from one another, making CJ the most “normal” looking one, and that helps him stand out. One thing I’ve gathered from Monahan, and what “Avatar” doesn’t grasp, is that the more uniform a group of characters is, the more a slight change will make the individual stand out. Just a hat given to one of the prawns tells us a little bit about him, and makes him stand out just a little tiny bit from the rest of the group. A yellow prawn will show up. One will have a t-shirt on. These simple additions give just enough personality to the prawns to make us feel like we’re looking at a fully-realized population, and not just a bunch of anthropomorphized crabs.
I’m going to talk a little more about both character design (specifically in Star Wars) and Avatar in future posts, so subscribe if you want to hear more.
Monahan’s entry does a great job demonstrating just how important variety is when you’re assembling an ensemble of characters. If they all look the same and act the same, what’s the point of having so many of them? Why should we care what happens to one character over another character?
This especially holds true of stylized genres set in a world with which we have no familiarity, i.e. sci-fi and fantasy. A cast of colorful, unique characters each with decisively different personalities, looks, and backgrounds will help us feel more immersed in a fully realized world.
Whereas, if we’re thrown into a fantasy setting with a bunch of generic looking knights, all of whom are stoic nobles who believe in chivalry, we become spectators; we’re just watching archetypes going through the motions of doing archetype-y things. We’re no longer immersed in the world; we’re fully outside of it, and we’re fully aware that we’re watching something that can only exist in fiction.
Not that it's a bad movie, but did you really care when any of them bit the dust?
Ok, ok. This is getting pretty pedantic. In fact, me saying the word pedantic is pretty pedantic in itself. So let’s go to some examples. Basically, I’m describing the difference between reading “The Fellowship of the Rings” and watching “Avatar”, a film I loathe (I’ll elaborate more on that in a later blog post). Let’s look at the Fellowship of the Ring.
It's a pretty distinct group of characters, each one different enough to potentially come into conflict or bond with any of the others. Even their poses separates them into distinct individuals. We have a vast array of possible interactions, clashes, and friendships. Because these characters are each so different, the fantastical events that ensue will elicit a wide range of reactions, which will help us absorb the otherworldly nature of it all. Let's look at who we have. We've got the gruff, down-to-earth dwarf, the inexperienced hobbits, the wise old wizard, the mysterious and aloof ranger, the nobleman, and the mystical elf. Even if you'd never seen the movie, you'd be able to pick out each of those characters just from the picture, and my description of them. Each character has a distinct look that separates him from his companions.
We have Aragorn, the mystery man, who has lived in the wild. He’s a skilled ranger, used to surviving in the wild. Everything about his design conveys that; the stubble, the long, unkempt hair, the dark, camouflage clothes…and yet there’s a quiet confidence to him that comes across in Viggo Mortensen’s performance that suggests that he wouldn’t be ought of place leading an army. With a minimal amount of dialogue, we've established that he's going to be the one to take charge when things get rough.
Compare that with:
Jake Sully, whose name I had to look up on imdb because I had no idea what it was. I compare him to Aragorn, because he fulfills a pretty similar function; he's the outsider overcoming adversity to eventually lead a giant army against a terrible threat. I'm talking about Sully's look as a Na'vi, which is the form he inhabits whenever he's doing anything important to the plot. We have no visual clues to tell us what makes Jake Na’vi any different from the other thousand Na’vi in the film. Hold that image up to the image of any other alien in the movie, and you'd have no idea what sets him apart and makes him worth our attention.
My biggest issue with the praise heaped on Avatar is that the Na’vi design is not really all that practical from a storytelling standpoint. Yes, it looks pretty realistic, but realism comes at the expense of visual clarity. All of the Na’vi look exactly the same, except for the hair, on occasion. Look at a sea of na’vi, and it’s not much different from looking at an army of smurfs. The variety between them is so subtle that it's virtually unnoticeable. If we’re expected to take this race seriously and empathize with them as though they were human beings, we should get a variety of na'vi with different poses and looks, and attitudes.
And not just a sea of copy-pasted computerized images. Seriously, look at that second picture. Look at the guy in the foreground on the leftmost side of the screen, and then the guy in the foreground on the rightmost side. They're the SAME GUY.
Every Na’vi acts the same, looks the same, dresses the same, and talks the same. It makes for a pretty boring group of characters. Why should I watch them?
Contrast with:
Boromir, who despite being human, like Aragorn clearly comes from a significantly different upbringing and history. His armor is cleaned up, his beard is trimmed, his colors suggest nobility. Even if you knew nothing about the Lord of the Rings and Middle Earth, you could tell just from a glance that these two had lived significantly different lives. This act of inferring sparks our imagination and engages us in the world we’re watching.
Contrast with:
Tsu'tey.
If you just said, “who?” than congratulations. You remember as much of Avatar as I do. You might argue that Tsu'tey has a sillier haircut than Jake Sully, but seriously. Look at some of those other pictures from before. That haircut is everywhere. It seems totally arbitrary who has a silly haircut and who doesn’t. If we were to look at him from a distance, we probably would have no idea what makes him special or different from the rest of the million Na’vi.
Alright, you might argue that this comparison is unfair, because we only see one tribe of Na’vi, and we see dozens of races in nobilities in Fellowship of the Rings. Fair enough. So let’s look at just one relatively alien race, and four characters who all come from the exact same town, the exact same social class, and who are exactly the same age.
Yes, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.
You might get Merry and Pippin's names confused, but I’m guessing that if you look at any decent LOTR artwork, you’ll at least be able to tell who Frodo and Sam are, and then work out the other two later.
These are four hobbits who all grew up in the same environment, yet everything about them suggests differing personalities that will react differently to extreme circumstances.
Frodo is always the most innocent, vulnerable looking one. Sam is always the most doggedly determined. Pippin and Merry are always a little bewildered, suggesting their youth, but they never look as vulnerable as Frodo. Merry particularly looks ready to take charge, especially in this shot. Once they actually start talking, their distinct personalities shine through even more, clarifying their different personalities, and reinforcing what their images suggest. There’s no way you’ll get them confused (well, maybe you’ll get Merry and Pippin’s names mixed up, but that’s just a whole Tom Stoppard situation right there).
Compare with:
Seriously, is there any difference between looking at this image and looking at an army of toy soldiers? They’re all so uniform and bland, it becomes virtually impossible to pick any one out and identify with him.
Now, what bothers me so much is that this wasn’t entirely inevitable. Yes, making each Na’vi look different to the degree that humans do would have been an incredibly expensive and time-consuming task for an already incredibly expensive and time-consuming film.
However, let’s turn to the film that anyone who wants an Avatar alternative should see: “District 9”. On the surface, it seems like all of the prawns look exactly the same, but the differences are there and subtle enough that we can at least pick the most important ones out of a lineup. Neil Blomkampf made sure that Christopher Johnson, the most important prawn, and his son had the widest range of facial expressions of all the prawns. This means that we can immediately tell them apart from the rest on a subconscious level, even if our brains are doing it subconsciously. Johnson also carries himself in the most upright, dignified manner of all the prawns we see, while his son scuttles around in a hunched position. If we were to stick them in a lineup, that would be enough to tell us who they were. Christopher Johnson will be the one who’s upright, and his son will be the one who’s hunched.
But more important than that, the rest of the prawns are very different from one another, making CJ the most “normal” looking one, and that helps him stand out. One thing I’ve gathered from Monahan, and what “Avatar” doesn’t grasp, is that the more uniform a group of characters is, the more a slight change will make the individual stand out. Just a hat given to one of the prawns tells us a little bit about him, and makes him stand out just a little tiny bit from the rest of the group. A yellow prawn will show up. One will have a t-shirt on. These simple additions give just enough personality to the prawns to make us feel like we’re looking at a fully-realized population, and not just a bunch of anthropomorphized crabs.
I’m going to talk a little more about both character design (specifically in Star Wars) and Avatar in future posts, so subscribe if you want to hear more.
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