A blog post with every single category marked (I'm doing this for scribefire)
Showing posts with label Film review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film review. Show all posts
2008-07-03
AAAAAAAAA
Labels:
Abortion,
Absolute Price Stability,
Al Mohler,
America,
Arrgh,
Attempted Humour,
Australian Economy,
Australian Politics,
Bad Economics,
Barack Obama,
Ben Bernanke,
Blogging,
Blogspotting,
Capital Punishment,
Church Planting,
Comics,
Cricket,
Demarchy,
Depression,
Drugs,
Economics,
Education,
Ethics,
Europe,
Failed predictions,
Family,
Federal Reserve Bank,
Fiction,
Film,
Film review,
Food,
George W. Bush,
Global Warming,
Global Warming Facts,
Godwin's Law,
Government Spending,
Graphs,
Griffith,
Guest Blogger,
Gun Control,
Health Care,
Hillary Clinton,
History,
Homosexuality,
Humour,
Ideas,
Immigration,
Indigenous Australians,
Inflation,
Internet,
Iran,
Iraq War,
Islam,
Japan,
John Howard,
Julia Gillard,
Justice,
Kevin Rudd,
Last.fm,
Linux,
Media,
Miscellaneous,
Music,
My Computer,
New Zealand,
Newcastle,
Only in America,
Peak Oil,
Pentecostalism,
Photoshop,
Predictions,
Racism,
Russia,
Schadenfreude,
Science,
Sermons,
Share Market,
Southern Baptists,
Space 1999,
Sport,
Subprime,
Sydney Anglicans,
Terrorism,
Terry Gilliam,
Theology,
United Nations,
US Dollar,
US Economy,
US Politics,
Voodoo Economics,
Weather,
Wikipedia,
Zero Tax,
Zimbabwe
2007-10-25
The Good German
As the commentator at imdb said, "as with Solaris, it just doesn't pay off."
The Good German is a film by acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh. Soderbergh is a reasonably respected director who mixes up "arty" films (Bubble, Full Frontal) with profitable mainstream ones (Oceans Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen, Erin Brockovich).
The film is a recreation of the film noir style of the 1940s and is filmed in black and white. Moreover, the technology used in the production process, such as lighting and sound, was of 1940s vintage. In many ways the film is a homage to Casablanca, complete with an awkward relationship between the male lead (Clooney) and the female lead (Blanchett) who is married to an idealist being tracked down by hidden powers. There's even a dark airport with a DC-10 at the end of the film, such is the Casablanca influence.
The Production Code that influenced (or beset) the film industry at that time prevented films from displaying overt violence, swearing and nudity. The Good German manages to include all three, including a scene where Tobey Maguire punches Cate Blanchett in the stomach in an alleyway - hardly the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a 1940s style film.
But while Casablanca clearly portrays the Nazis as the hidden powers trying to grab the good guys, in The Good German it harder to discern. Set in Berlin in the months following the fall of Germany, The Good German recreates the chaos, the opportunities and the terror in the city as the allied powers (Britain, America and Russia) meet in Potsdam to determine the future of Europe.
Clooney plays Jake Geismar, a war correspondent who has been sent to cover the Potsdam conference. His official army driver is Corporal Tully, played by Tobey Maguire, who is involved in the growing black-market economy in post-war Berlin. Tully has a girlfriend, a German woman named Lena Brandt, played by Cate Blanchett, who is desperate to escape Berlin... but not to Russia.
The film incorporates an investigation into Nazi war crimes, and includes a character who was subjected to human experimentation, as well as insights into the German rocket program and the Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp. The moving of German scientists to America for rocket research, Operation Paperclip, is also mentioned.
Yet despite all this the film is somewhat hollow. It is all very well to use the technology of 1940s film-making and incorporate it in a film-noir style, but adding modern day sex, violence and swearing only takes away from the film, rather than adding to it. As I watched the film I tried to put myself in the place of a 1946 movie goer to see what would shock me or interest me. Apart from the sex, violence (including blood) and swearing, I would also be shocked by the film's "cleanness". Modern film-making, with its digital cameras and CGI special effects, amongst others, is very distinct from films made sixty years ago or more.
Remember when you saw Forrest Gump the first time and saw him bumble around in front of real footage of Lyndon Johnston? We all laughed at the marvels of modern technology, but after a while we were able to discern and identify attempts to "age" modern film into the past. The same can be said with The Good German. Casablanca, a film I have seen and respect (but not love), has imperfections and limitations of sound and technology that become part and parcel of films that were actually made during that era. The Good German, however, is just too clean. There's a "freshness" to the way the film looks, even though it incorporates darkness. Casablanca, and other films of that period, have what I would describe as a murkiness that is missing in The Good German.
I think it may have to do with the actual film used, and the way film has aged. In The Good German, there are very sharply defined lines between objects that are dark and light. For example, George Clooney's face against a dark background shows a sharp contrast between the face and the dark. Pores can be seen on Clooney's skin. But in films from that period the contrast between these two objects, while stark, is not so clearly defined. There is a "muddiness" or "slightly out of focus" feel in films from that era that just isn't there in Soderbergh's film.
As regards to sex and violence, I have always believed that it is far more effective to understate these aspects of a film story and give the audience enough information to make their own minds up. In Casablanca, the sexual tension between Humphey Bogart's character and Ingrid Bergman's character is obvious, as is the bind they are both in when it is revealed that she has a husband. This portrayal was, to put it mildly, quite scandalous in nature for audiences in 1942, but the film was able to communicate this without showing anything untoward. By contrast, Cate Blanchett's character comes across less a Femme Fatale and more of Hooker with a (frozen) Heart of Gold. Soderbergh's movie could have been better without the sex, nudity and violence. In fact, George Clooney gets beaten up and bloodied so many times in the film that it becomes unintentionally funny.
The film is, like many Hollywood releases, professional, well organised yet soulless. Like many of Soderbergh's "arty" films, it is not arty enough to please art-film fans (like myself) and yet not mainstream enough to please the box-office. Soderbergh seems to be trapped in some sort of "no man's land" between mainstream success and critical acclaim. He obviously doesn't want to end up becoming a Hollywood whore like Michael Bay, but can't seem to get to the point where people see him as an auteur worth following. It's almost like he is a robot that has been programmed to create arty-films.
The Good German is a film by acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh. Soderbergh is a reasonably respected director who mixes up "arty" films (Bubble, Full Frontal) with profitable mainstream ones (Oceans Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen, Erin Brockovich).
The film is a recreation of the film noir style of the 1940s and is filmed in black and white. Moreover, the technology used in the production process, such as lighting and sound, was of 1940s vintage. In many ways the film is a homage to Casablanca, complete with an awkward relationship between the male lead (Clooney) and the female lead (Blanchett) who is married to an idealist being tracked down by hidden powers. There's even a dark airport with a DC-10 at the end of the film, such is the Casablanca influence.
The Production Code that influenced (or beset) the film industry at that time prevented films from displaying overt violence, swearing and nudity. The Good German manages to include all three, including a scene where Tobey Maguire punches Cate Blanchett in the stomach in an alleyway - hardly the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a 1940s style film.
But while Casablanca clearly portrays the Nazis as the hidden powers trying to grab the good guys, in The Good German it harder to discern. Set in Berlin in the months following the fall of Germany, The Good German recreates the chaos, the opportunities and the terror in the city as the allied powers (Britain, America and Russia) meet in Potsdam to determine the future of Europe.
Clooney plays Jake Geismar, a war correspondent who has been sent to cover the Potsdam conference. His official army driver is Corporal Tully, played by Tobey Maguire, who is involved in the growing black-market economy in post-war Berlin. Tully has a girlfriend, a German woman named Lena Brandt, played by Cate Blanchett, who is desperate to escape Berlin... but not to Russia.
The film incorporates an investigation into Nazi war crimes, and includes a character who was subjected to human experimentation, as well as insights into the German rocket program and the Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp. The moving of German scientists to America for rocket research, Operation Paperclip, is also mentioned.
Yet despite all this the film is somewhat hollow. It is all very well to use the technology of 1940s film-making and incorporate it in a film-noir style, but adding modern day sex, violence and swearing only takes away from the film, rather than adding to it. As I watched the film I tried to put myself in the place of a 1946 movie goer to see what would shock me or interest me. Apart from the sex, violence (including blood) and swearing, I would also be shocked by the film's "cleanness". Modern film-making, with its digital cameras and CGI special effects, amongst others, is very distinct from films made sixty years ago or more.
Remember when you saw Forrest Gump the first time and saw him bumble around in front of real footage of Lyndon Johnston? We all laughed at the marvels of modern technology, but after a while we were able to discern and identify attempts to "age" modern film into the past. The same can be said with The Good German. Casablanca, a film I have seen and respect (but not love), has imperfections and limitations of sound and technology that become part and parcel of films that were actually made during that era. The Good German, however, is just too clean. There's a "freshness" to the way the film looks, even though it incorporates darkness. Casablanca, and other films of that period, have what I would describe as a murkiness that is missing in The Good German.
I think it may have to do with the actual film used, and the way film has aged. In The Good German, there are very sharply defined lines between objects that are dark and light. For example, George Clooney's face against a dark background shows a sharp contrast between the face and the dark. Pores can be seen on Clooney's skin. But in films from that period the contrast between these two objects, while stark, is not so clearly defined. There is a "muddiness" or "slightly out of focus" feel in films from that era that just isn't there in Soderbergh's film.
As regards to sex and violence, I have always believed that it is far more effective to understate these aspects of a film story and give the audience enough information to make their own minds up. In Casablanca, the sexual tension between Humphey Bogart's character and Ingrid Bergman's character is obvious, as is the bind they are both in when it is revealed that she has a husband. This portrayal was, to put it mildly, quite scandalous in nature for audiences in 1942, but the film was able to communicate this without showing anything untoward. By contrast, Cate Blanchett's character comes across less a Femme Fatale and more of Hooker with a (frozen) Heart of Gold. Soderbergh's movie could have been better without the sex, nudity and violence. In fact, George Clooney gets beaten up and bloodied so many times in the film that it becomes unintentionally funny.
The film is, like many Hollywood releases, professional, well organised yet soulless. Like many of Soderbergh's "arty" films, it is not arty enough to please art-film fans (like myself) and yet not mainstream enough to please the box-office. Soderbergh seems to be trapped in some sort of "no man's land" between mainstream success and critical acclaim. He obviously doesn't want to end up becoming a Hollywood whore like Michael Bay, but can't seem to get to the point where people see him as an auteur worth following. It's almost like he is a robot that has been programmed to create arty-films.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
2007-10-17
Shaun of the Dead
Shaun of the Dead is, according to the DVD cover, a "Romantic Comedy, with Zombies" (OrRom Com Zom for short). And that is pretty much what it is.
Zombie flicks have, over the years, been alternatively scary, mysterious, funny and sometimes boring and predictable. They have been a staple of horror films for decades now, starting with George Romero's Night of the Living Dead in 1968. In fact the title of this film is based upon the Romero film Dawn of the Dead.
My own experience of Zombie-horror films is quite limited. Back in the 1980s I saw half of Return of the Living Dead before the friends I was with decided that watching Doctor Zhivago was a better bet (it was midnight before Zhivago finally lost Lara). I found the film hilarious, especially when the Zombies were walking around crying out for brains and, after killing and eating the occupants of a police car, grabbed the police radio and said "Send more cops".
The next film that I watched with a Zombie flavour was Army of Darkness, an absolute comedic classic about a retail employee named Ash who has removed his right hand and replaced it with a chainsaw, who is mysteriously sent back in time to battle a Zombie army in the Middle Ages, armed with his chainsaw, a shotgun, his car and some handy engineering textbooks. The film was an instant classic and made Bruce Campbell into a cult movie star, and allowed its Director, Sam Raimi, to direct bigger and better things.
On the other hand, Resident Evil, starring Mila Jovovich, is a humourless Zombie flick that nevertheless does a good job at recreating the plot of a popular computer game (better, in fact, than Tomb Raider, Doom or other comparable film). It is a tense film and contains special effects that are designed to horrify rather than make you laugh. What made this film attractive to me was the futuristic aspect of it all, as well as having Zombies being mown down by a highly-trained paramilitary unit. The sequel to this film is, unfortunately, almost unwatchable.
Another great Zombie flick is Braindead, possibly the greatest film ever made by Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson. Put simply, the film is about a mild-mannered New Zealand man named Lionel trying to save 1950s Wellington from being over-run by Zombies.
Shaun of the Dead, therefore, comes to me out of this rather limited experience. And it works. Simon Pegg, the film's star, starred in Big Train, one of my favourite BBC comedy shows, so his comedic style is known by me. The film also stars Pegg's comedy friend Nick Frost, and a cavalcade of British comedians such as Lucy Davis (Dawn in The Office), Dylan Moran (Bernard in Black Books) as well as bit parts by Martin Freeman (The Office) and Matt Lucas (Little Britain).
Needless to say, with a cast heavy with British Comedians, Shaun of the Dead is most definitely a comedy. It is not a satire, not is it a even a parody of Zombie flicks. It is, as the DVD cover suggests, a Romantic comedy, with Zombies.
Pegg plays Shaun, a 29-year old unmotivated Englishman who spends his days in a dead-end job selling televisions and his nights either at the local pub or on the Playstation with his house-mate, the unemployed and shambolic Ed. These two live with Pete, a clean living and organised person who is nevertheless a complete jerk.
In effect, the house that Shaun lives in is a allegory of his life. He is torn between the need to be relaxed and have fun - as personified by the disgusting, lazy and irresponsible housemate Ed - and the need to be responsible and make something of his life - as personified by the successful, competent yet highly strung and humourless Pete. Neither choice fills Shaun with hope. On the one hand, he knows that Ed's influence on his life is holding him back. But, on the other hand, he cannot bear to change into the ugly, soulless being that Pete has become.
Normally this would not bother him. Shaun's girlfriend, Liz, however is sick of him. She is sick of Shaun's inability to progress in life and his exceptionally small dreams. Moreover, Shaun's social life consists almost entirely of going to the Winchester, a local pub. When he forgets to book a table at a fancy restaurant and suggests a drink at the Winchester instead, Liz dumps him. After being dumped, Shaun discovers that he truly loves Liz, and decides to try to win her back.
As you have read this so far, you're probably wondering where the Zombies come in. Eventually they do. For whatever reason (the film does not explain it), people begin to turn into Zombies and begin killing and eating the living. Shaun, realising that both his mother and his ex-girlfriend are in mortal danger, then decides to try to rescue them.
It is Shaun's decisive actions in acting as the rescuer and main zombie-killer that transforms him from an unmotivated peon into a genuine hero. In many ways, the character of Shaun is the same as that of Ash from Army of Darkness. Ash, played by Bruce Campbell, begins his life as a lowly store-worker at "S-Mart", a dead-end job that involves pricing goods and dealing with customers at the till. Similarly, Shaun works at an electronics retail store selling Televisions and DVD players, working alongside 16 year olds who are at least as competent as he is. This link between Ash and Shaun is made explicit as an in-joke for careful viewers when Shaun, as acting manager, tells the staff that "Ash" was sick and couldn't make it to work that day.
Shaun is also like Ash in that he is constantly warring between his "responsible" side and his "irresponsible" side. Yet while Ash swings from confident and arrogant hero to craven coward every few minutes, Shaun's swings are more human, more believable and less contrived (although I must point out that the contrived hero/coward behaviour of Ash in Army of Darkness is one of that film's greatest strengths. The humanness of Shaun is simply different to, rather than better than, Ash). Forced into action by the most ridiculous of premises (a sudden invasion of Zombies), Shaun moves from being immature to being mature, from being ridiculed to being respected, and from being cowardly to being heroic.
Shaun can also be compared favourably to Braindead's Lionel, whose zombie-killing frees him from the clutches of his domineering mother. In a sense, Shaun is freed from his self-imposed shackles in the same way as Lionel is "freed" from the shackles imposed on him by his mother.
It is thus through the bloody dismemberment of undead flesh that the unremarkable, shackled and disgraceful can conquer their faults and rise to prominence and power. It is as though the Zombies represent the protagonists in all their faults - and the death of the Zombies by these protagonists is necessary in order for them to become heros. In a sense it a battle against the self, and one which requires the death of the head (in much the same way as the guillotine recreated France during the revolution).
Gee, that sounded really intellectual.
What gives the film an added "vibe" is its setting. Rather than being in Middle America or the Middle Ages (which, of course, was what we were to believe in Army of Darkness, though it was obvious that they were filming in California scrubland), Shaun of the Dead is set in suburban London. By having the setting in London, and having to deal with Londoners, is what separates the film from other Zombie films. In suburban London we have a corner store run a Pakistani immigrant, a neighbourhood youth who kicks a football all the time, colourful and traditional pubs in abundance, cramped but well-kept backyard gardens, narrow streets being driven along by cheap 4-cylinder cars or expensive Jaguars - and it is here that we view the mysterious Zombie invasion. It is this setting, along with the cast, that makes Shaun of the Dead a quintessentially English film, despite its reliance upon American based themes. Zombies will always be Zombies, but the way ordinary English people respond to the threat would be different to the way Americans act. So while Americans may barricade the doors or pull out firearms allowed by the US constitution, the English have a sit down or throw cups and saucers at their antagonists - well, at least English portrayed by English comedians.
Incidentally, it is this style of setting - remaining true to a particular locale and culture - that makes all comedies work well. Think of the Britishness of Monty Python for example. Braindead was so good because it remained true to New Zealand culture and thus became entertaining to those outside of New Zealand. Any Rom Zom Com will work internationally if it is kept within the bounds of a particular culture. I'd really like to see a Zombie Comedy from, say India, or Minnesota, or Mexico, or Russia.
One of my favourite parts of the film occurs when Ed and Shaun discover that the only way to permanently kill Zombies is to either cut off their heads or destroy their brains. Armed with this information, they then attempt to kill two zombies by hurling LP records at them (in the hope that decaptiation would result). After Ed inadvertently hurls an original copy of Blue Monday at the advancing Zombies, the two then discuss which albums can be thrown and which deserve to be kept - Dire Straits and the Batman Soundtrack are dispatched at their undead foes, while the two albums by The Stone Roses are kept. Moreover, when Shaun is first attacked by a Zombie, both Ed and Shaun think that the Zombie, a woman, is merely very drunk and amorous, resulting in Ed taking a picture of the two of them struggling away.
The Zombie-killing motif in the film is represented by Shaun's cricket bat, which he uses to bash in the heads of the undead. Cricket is an English sport, so the use of a cricket bat makes the Zombie-killing motif as much English as the chainsaw/shotgun combination makes Ash's motif American (or the Sub-machine-gun makes Alice's motif American in Resident Evil, or the underpowered lawnmower makes Lionel's motif New Zealander in Braindead). When he loses the bat, Shaun then uses the Winchester rifle that he finds in the Winchester pub - almost identical to the Winchester Ash uses in S-Mart at the end of Army of Darkness. Unlike Ash, however, Shaun has no experience firing rifles apart from his time on the Playstation, so his use of the Winchester is haphazard. The Winchester is also used by David (Dylan Moran) a university lecturer and an avowed pacifist (what irony) to threaten the life of a another cast member who is changing into a Zombie.
Music also has its place in the film. While Resident Evil has an appropriately dark and industrial-metal soundtrack, Shaun of the Dead includes a memorable rendition of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now (a song glorifying Freddie Mercury's outrageous libido) playing as the characters attempt to kill a Zombie by beating it with Pool cues in time with the music. The use of this song, which is resplendent in images of excitement and boasting, is subverted by the scene of killing a Zombie - similar to the way the ear-removal scene in Reservoir Dogs subverts the 70s pop tune Stuck in the Middle with You (although this scene in Shaun of the Dead is hardly ruinous).
As I stated earlier, Shaun of the dead is not a parody of Zombie films. Zombie-comedies like Army of Darkness, Braindead and Return of the Living Dead are well regarded in the genre, which means that Shaun of the Dead can actually be labelled a Zombie horror film (the way Dylan Moran's character dies in the film is simultaneously horrible and incredibly funny). Unlike these two Zombie-Horror films, though, the film's humour lies in the way in which the characters respond to the Zombies, rather than poking fun at the Zombies themselves (something which Shaun of the Dead only does at the conclusion of the film). It is one thing to rip zombies apart with gigantic fan attached to the front of a steam powered car (as Ash does in Army of Darkness), it is another thing to skewer a Zombie with a Totem Tennis pole (as what happens in Shaun of the Dead). The former is humourous because it is overstated, the latter is humourous because it is understated.
With the success of Shaun of the Dead, along with the history of previous Zom Coms, I would hazard a guess that future films starring Zombie invasions gore and humour are likely to continue. I'm glad, though, that the creators of Shaun of the Dead (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost) were talented enough to get away with a quality picture when there is always a chance that something only mediocre could be created. The success of this film, along with their later Hot Fuzz, shows a talented pair of British comedians willing to try new things.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Zombie flicks have, over the years, been alternatively scary, mysterious, funny and sometimes boring and predictable. They have been a staple of horror films for decades now, starting with George Romero's Night of the Living Dead in 1968. In fact the title of this film is based upon the Romero film Dawn of the Dead.
My own experience of Zombie-horror films is quite limited. Back in the 1980s I saw half of Return of the Living Dead before the friends I was with decided that watching Doctor Zhivago was a better bet (it was midnight before Zhivago finally lost Lara). I found the film hilarious, especially when the Zombies were walking around crying out for brains and, after killing and eating the occupants of a police car, grabbed the police radio and said "Send more cops".
The next film that I watched with a Zombie flavour was Army of Darkness, an absolute comedic classic about a retail employee named Ash who has removed his right hand and replaced it with a chainsaw, who is mysteriously sent back in time to battle a Zombie army in the Middle Ages, armed with his chainsaw, a shotgun, his car and some handy engineering textbooks. The film was an instant classic and made Bruce Campbell into a cult movie star, and allowed its Director, Sam Raimi, to direct bigger and better things.
On the other hand, Resident Evil, starring Mila Jovovich, is a humourless Zombie flick that nevertheless does a good job at recreating the plot of a popular computer game (better, in fact, than Tomb Raider, Doom or other comparable film). It is a tense film and contains special effects that are designed to horrify rather than make you laugh. What made this film attractive to me was the futuristic aspect of it all, as well as having Zombies being mown down by a highly-trained paramilitary unit. The sequel to this film is, unfortunately, almost unwatchable.
Another great Zombie flick is Braindead, possibly the greatest film ever made by Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson. Put simply, the film is about a mild-mannered New Zealand man named Lionel trying to save 1950s Wellington from being over-run by Zombies.
Shaun of the Dead, therefore, comes to me out of this rather limited experience. And it works. Simon Pegg, the film's star, starred in Big Train, one of my favourite BBC comedy shows, so his comedic style is known by me. The film also stars Pegg's comedy friend Nick Frost, and a cavalcade of British comedians such as Lucy Davis (Dawn in The Office), Dylan Moran (Bernard in Black Books) as well as bit parts by Martin Freeman (The Office) and Matt Lucas (Little Britain).
Needless to say, with a cast heavy with British Comedians, Shaun of the Dead is most definitely a comedy. It is not a satire, not is it a even a parody of Zombie flicks. It is, as the DVD cover suggests, a Romantic comedy, with Zombies.
Pegg plays Shaun, a 29-year old unmotivated Englishman who spends his days in a dead-end job selling televisions and his nights either at the local pub or on the Playstation with his house-mate, the unemployed and shambolic Ed. These two live with Pete, a clean living and organised person who is nevertheless a complete jerk.
In effect, the house that Shaun lives in is a allegory of his life. He is torn between the need to be relaxed and have fun - as personified by the disgusting, lazy and irresponsible housemate Ed - and the need to be responsible and make something of his life - as personified by the successful, competent yet highly strung and humourless Pete. Neither choice fills Shaun with hope. On the one hand, he knows that Ed's influence on his life is holding him back. But, on the other hand, he cannot bear to change into the ugly, soulless being that Pete has become.
Normally this would not bother him. Shaun's girlfriend, Liz, however is sick of him. She is sick of Shaun's inability to progress in life and his exceptionally small dreams. Moreover, Shaun's social life consists almost entirely of going to the Winchester, a local pub. When he forgets to book a table at a fancy restaurant and suggests a drink at the Winchester instead, Liz dumps him. After being dumped, Shaun discovers that he truly loves Liz, and decides to try to win her back.
As you have read this so far, you're probably wondering where the Zombies come in. Eventually they do. For whatever reason (the film does not explain it), people begin to turn into Zombies and begin killing and eating the living. Shaun, realising that both his mother and his ex-girlfriend are in mortal danger, then decides to try to rescue them.
It is Shaun's decisive actions in acting as the rescuer and main zombie-killer that transforms him from an unmotivated peon into a genuine hero. In many ways, the character of Shaun is the same as that of Ash from Army of Darkness. Ash, played by Bruce Campbell, begins his life as a lowly store-worker at "S-Mart", a dead-end job that involves pricing goods and dealing with customers at the till. Similarly, Shaun works at an electronics retail store selling Televisions and DVD players, working alongside 16 year olds who are at least as competent as he is. This link between Ash and Shaun is made explicit as an in-joke for careful viewers when Shaun, as acting manager, tells the staff that "Ash" was sick and couldn't make it to work that day.
Shaun is also like Ash in that he is constantly warring between his "responsible" side and his "irresponsible" side. Yet while Ash swings from confident and arrogant hero to craven coward every few minutes, Shaun's swings are more human, more believable and less contrived (although I must point out that the contrived hero/coward behaviour of Ash in Army of Darkness is one of that film's greatest strengths. The humanness of Shaun is simply different to, rather than better than, Ash). Forced into action by the most ridiculous of premises (a sudden invasion of Zombies), Shaun moves from being immature to being mature, from being ridiculed to being respected, and from being cowardly to being heroic.
Shaun can also be compared favourably to Braindead's Lionel, whose zombie-killing frees him from the clutches of his domineering mother. In a sense, Shaun is freed from his self-imposed shackles in the same way as Lionel is "freed" from the shackles imposed on him by his mother.
It is thus through the bloody dismemberment of undead flesh that the unremarkable, shackled and disgraceful can conquer their faults and rise to prominence and power. It is as though the Zombies represent the protagonists in all their faults - and the death of the Zombies by these protagonists is necessary in order for them to become heros. In a sense it a battle against the self, and one which requires the death of the head (in much the same way as the guillotine recreated France during the revolution).
Gee, that sounded really intellectual.
What gives the film an added "vibe" is its setting. Rather than being in Middle America or the Middle Ages (which, of course, was what we were to believe in Army of Darkness, though it was obvious that they were filming in California scrubland), Shaun of the Dead is set in suburban London. By having the setting in London, and having to deal with Londoners, is what separates the film from other Zombie films. In suburban London we have a corner store run a Pakistani immigrant, a neighbourhood youth who kicks a football all the time, colourful and traditional pubs in abundance, cramped but well-kept backyard gardens, narrow streets being driven along by cheap 4-cylinder cars or expensive Jaguars - and it is here that we view the mysterious Zombie invasion. It is this setting, along with the cast, that makes Shaun of the Dead a quintessentially English film, despite its reliance upon American based themes. Zombies will always be Zombies, but the way ordinary English people respond to the threat would be different to the way Americans act. So while Americans may barricade the doors or pull out firearms allowed by the US constitution, the English have a sit down or throw cups and saucers at their antagonists - well, at least English portrayed by English comedians.
Incidentally, it is this style of setting - remaining true to a particular locale and culture - that makes all comedies work well. Think of the Britishness of Monty Python for example. Braindead was so good because it remained true to New Zealand culture and thus became entertaining to those outside of New Zealand. Any Rom Zom Com will work internationally if it is kept within the bounds of a particular culture. I'd really like to see a Zombie Comedy from, say India, or Minnesota, or Mexico, or Russia.
One of my favourite parts of the film occurs when Ed and Shaun discover that the only way to permanently kill Zombies is to either cut off their heads or destroy their brains. Armed with this information, they then attempt to kill two zombies by hurling LP records at them (in the hope that decaptiation would result). After Ed inadvertently hurls an original copy of Blue Monday at the advancing Zombies, the two then discuss which albums can be thrown and which deserve to be kept - Dire Straits and the Batman Soundtrack are dispatched at their undead foes, while the two albums by The Stone Roses are kept. Moreover, when Shaun is first attacked by a Zombie, both Ed and Shaun think that the Zombie, a woman, is merely very drunk and amorous, resulting in Ed taking a picture of the two of them struggling away.
The Zombie-killing motif in the film is represented by Shaun's cricket bat, which he uses to bash in the heads of the undead. Cricket is an English sport, so the use of a cricket bat makes the Zombie-killing motif as much English as the chainsaw/shotgun combination makes Ash's motif American (or the Sub-machine-gun makes Alice's motif American in Resident Evil, or the underpowered lawnmower makes Lionel's motif New Zealander in Braindead). When he loses the bat, Shaun then uses the Winchester rifle that he finds in the Winchester pub - almost identical to the Winchester Ash uses in S-Mart at the end of Army of Darkness. Unlike Ash, however, Shaun has no experience firing rifles apart from his time on the Playstation, so his use of the Winchester is haphazard. The Winchester is also used by David (Dylan Moran) a university lecturer and an avowed pacifist (what irony) to threaten the life of a another cast member who is changing into a Zombie.
Music also has its place in the film. While Resident Evil has an appropriately dark and industrial-metal soundtrack, Shaun of the Dead includes a memorable rendition of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now (a song glorifying Freddie Mercury's outrageous libido) playing as the characters attempt to kill a Zombie by beating it with Pool cues in time with the music. The use of this song, which is resplendent in images of excitement and boasting, is subverted by the scene of killing a Zombie - similar to the way the ear-removal scene in Reservoir Dogs subverts the 70s pop tune Stuck in the Middle with You (although this scene in Shaun of the Dead is hardly ruinous).
As I stated earlier, Shaun of the dead is not a parody of Zombie films. Zombie-comedies like Army of Darkness, Braindead and Return of the Living Dead are well regarded in the genre, which means that Shaun of the Dead can actually be labelled a Zombie horror film (the way Dylan Moran's character dies in the film is simultaneously horrible and incredibly funny). Unlike these two Zombie-Horror films, though, the film's humour lies in the way in which the characters respond to the Zombies, rather than poking fun at the Zombies themselves (something which Shaun of the Dead only does at the conclusion of the film). It is one thing to rip zombies apart with gigantic fan attached to the front of a steam powered car (as Ash does in Army of Darkness), it is another thing to skewer a Zombie with a Totem Tennis pole (as what happens in Shaun of the Dead). The former is humourous because it is overstated, the latter is humourous because it is understated.
With the success of Shaun of the Dead, along with the history of previous Zom Coms, I would hazard a guess that future films starring Zombie invasions gore and humour are likely to continue. I'm glad, though, that the creators of Shaun of the Dead (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost) were talented enough to get away with a quality picture when there is always a chance that something only mediocre could be created. The success of this film, along with their later Hot Fuzz, shows a talented pair of British comedians willing to try new things.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
2007-10-03
Superman Returns - a response
So I saw Superman Returns last night (and today). Interesting picture. Here are my thoughts in no particular order:
- I like attention to detail. I was impressed by a number of events in the story that existed to please discerning film watchers. These include the use of Supersonic shock waves whenever Superman or other flying craft break through the sound barrier (a real pic can be found here).
- There are events in the film that are tributes to other films, these include the scene of the bad guy with the minigun firing at cops (Arnie in Terminator 2), the launch of a Space Shuttle whilst on top of jet airliner (Moonraker), the breaking in two of a ship as it sinks into the ocean (Titanic), and, of course, the presence of Kumar Patel from Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle (maybe Lex Luthor tried to hire Neil Patrick Harris as one of his bodyguards as well)
- I nearly turned the DVD off when Superman rescues the stricken plane and lands in the middle of a major league baseball match. That was pathetic. The chances of that happening were, well, about as likely as Superman actually existing. I like continuity and the ability to suspend ones disbelief, but this almost triggered off my "Why are those people flying in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon?" alarms.
- As Superman flies over the ocean and sees the massive fault line developing underneath him, my initial reaction was "surely Metropolis is about to be hit by a Tsunami". Why didn't it happen?
- Why doesn't Superman realise that he has lost his super powers? Perhaps he just wanted the experience of being beaten up by gay Rugby League player turned actor Ian Roberts.
- Best scene - the piano playing duet between Superman's bastard and the guy with a dog's face tattooed on the back of his head.
- Apparently Superman also made it to Gotham City in the film.
- Did Lois Lane get her Pulitzer?
- Speaking of Lois, I was impressed by the whole you've-been-gone-five-years-and-now-I'm-married -but-I-still-love-you-but-I-also-love-my-husband quandry that she goes through.
- More on Lois - she's pissed off at Superman for leaving them all, but manages to express this to the man of cobalt just after she gets her life saved by him. Some chicks would prefer to die in a blazing wreck than to have their lives saved by someone they're angry at.
- Apparently the Kent family farm was filmed in Tamworth. The film-makers thought that the location was typical "middle America". Tell that to the folks in Middle America who had to have their landscape depicted more accurately overseas (and tell that to the good people of Tamworth who probably now think they're more middle America than Middle America which gives them more reasons to hold that ridiculous country music festival there year after year).
- Richard Branson was in the film too, apparently. Didn't see him.
- The director also did The Usual Suspects, which is where he was able to get Kevin Spacey. It would've been good to have a Kayser Soze moment during Luthor's screen time.
2007-07-25
Freaks - a quick review
Last night I saw the classic film Freaks for the second time. Released in 1932, it is a film about circus "freaks" and how they are treated by "normal" (able-bodied) people.
The film is certainly ahead of its time. The most "evil" people in the film are the circus strongman and a female trapeze artist who work together to rob a sideshow midget of his fortune - even going to such lengths as the woman marrying the midget while planning to poison him later.

The film was made in that interesting period pre-code and post-talkies where certain ethical codes had yet to be drawn up while film-makers began to experiment with their new audio/visual art form. For example, one of the characters, a young woman, is seen to "move out" of her relationship with the strongman and begin a new one with a clown - unmarried cohabitation being clearly implied. Moreover, a very disturbing relationship between the female trapeze artist and a male midget is also depicted. The midget - not a dwarf - is essentially a person who is as old as a normal man but who has the body of a child (proportionate dwarfism, a result of growth hormone deficiency which is now preventable), so the film depicts this strange relationship developing between a full grown woman and a midget who, for all intents and purposes, looks like a six year old boy.
The film is full of humour as well: One man is married to one female siamese twin but not the other, with the other eventually accepting a marriage proposal from another man (how would that work out in practice? The film leaves it up in the air!); The bearded woman gives birth to a bearded baby girl; a "human torso" (a man born without arms or legs) manages to put a cigarette in his mouth a light it without help from anyone else.
The film has a reasonably dark ending and the "freaks" do not come across as people who can be exploited easily. There's all sorts of stuff in the film that is not exactly "PC" but not exploitative either.
The film is certainly ahead of its time. The most "evil" people in the film are the circus strongman and a female trapeze artist who work together to rob a sideshow midget of his fortune - even going to such lengths as the woman marrying the midget while planning to poison him later.
The film was made in that interesting period pre-code and post-talkies where certain ethical codes had yet to be drawn up while film-makers began to experiment with their new audio/visual art form. For example, one of the characters, a young woman, is seen to "move out" of her relationship with the strongman and begin a new one with a clown - unmarried cohabitation being clearly implied. Moreover, a very disturbing relationship between the female trapeze artist and a male midget is also depicted. The midget - not a dwarf - is essentially a person who is as old as a normal man but who has the body of a child (proportionate dwarfism, a result of growth hormone deficiency which is now preventable), so the film depicts this strange relationship developing between a full grown woman and a midget who, for all intents and purposes, looks like a six year old boy.
The film is full of humour as well: One man is married to one female siamese twin but not the other, with the other eventually accepting a marriage proposal from another man (how would that work out in practice? The film leaves it up in the air!); The bearded woman gives birth to a bearded baby girl; a "human torso" (a man born without arms or legs) manages to put a cigarette in his mouth a light it without help from anyone else.
The film has a reasonably dark ending and the "freaks" do not come across as people who can be exploited easily. There's all sorts of stuff in the film that is not exactly "PC" but not exploitative either.
2007-07-02
Joint Security Area film review
The climax of the film. Not a Korean version of Reservoir Dogs.
Joint Security Area (2000) is a South Korean Film directed by Park Chan-wook. It is the story of an investigation into the death of two North Korean soldiers in the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), an investigation that opens up some of the attitudes that pervade both sides of the Korean border.
While I have seen many Japanese films before, this is my first Korean one, and I am exceptionally impressed by the quality of the story. Moreover, the story is a uniquely Korean one (although I have heard unfortunate rumours that an American remake is in the offing).
Many of us English speaking Westerners have little knowledge of the Korean War and the effect it has had upon the people who live in North and South Korea, which means I have to delve into some history. For starters, the war ravaged the entire peninsula, first as the North Korean armies invaded the South and surrounded the Pusan Perimeter, then, with American intervention, the North was pushed back and its armies forced to retreat across into China, and then, with Chinese intervention, the Americans and its allies were pushed back to the 38th parallel where a cease-fire was agreed upon (for a useful animated map showing this back-and-forth movement, click here).
Since that cease fire, these has been no formal ending of the war. As a result, the North and South are still officially at war, despite the fact that no actual hostilities have broken out since 1953. The North, as we know, is a paranoid Communist dictatorship. The South, backed by the USA, is a market economy.
Between the two Koreas there exists the DMZ, a buffer zone surrounding the border that is unpopulated and heavily mined. The only place where the two Koreas have any formal link is the Joint Security Area located in the former town of Panmunjeom - which is where the two opposing sides organised the 1953 armistice.
Whenever North and South need to meet (for whatever reason), the blue buildings you
see here are used. In order for relations between the two sides to remain calm and objective, another entity is involved in the process - the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission
(NNSC), which is made up of soldiers from Switzerland and Sweden. It may seem rather strange to have North European soldiers trying to keep the peace in East Asia, but their presence and neutrality ensure that any of the problems between the two sides can be approached carefully
and with some restraint.
One important feature of the Joint Security Area is the so called "Bridge of No Return", a road bridge that links the two Koreas. On each side of the bridge there are guard towers - one for the North and the other for the South. The border between the two Koreas also runs through the middle of this bridge.
Well, enough of the history lesson. What about the story?
At this point I need to warn you that I will be revealing part of the plot. Unlike other reviews I have done (where I have tried hard to not reveal the plot) there is no way to adequately review the film without revealing important details. You have been warned.
Warning: Plot Spoiler!
Swiss Army Major Sophie Jean begins her investigations.
The film opens with news stories of the increased tension between North and South. Two North Korean soldiers have been killed in the guardhouse at the Bridge of No Return and the NNSC has dispatched a military lawyer to conduct the investigation. The lawyer, Major Sophie Jean (Lee Young Ae) from the Swiss Army, is half Korean herself and discovers very quickly that clear differences exist between the Northern and Southern accounts of what happened.
One thing is, however, certain - that the killer is South Korean Army Sergeant Lee Soo-hyeok (Lee Byung-Hun). His account, however, differs from a survivor and witness of the shootings, North Korean Sergeant Oh Kyeong-pil (Song Kang-ho).
South Korean Sergeant Lee peers across the border at North Korean Sergeant Oh.
The difference between the two accounts is considerable. Sergeant Lee states that he was "relieving himself" in the bushes near the guardpost when he was suddenly attacked by North Koreans and dragged unconscious across the border to the Northern guardpost. When he regained consciousness, he was able to free himself from his bonds, grab a pistol and shoot his way out of the guardroom. Wounded in the knee, Lee then struggles to make his way across the Bridge of No Return. Alerted by the shooting, North and South Korean soldiers turn up at the scene and begin firing at one another.
Major Jean interviews the wounded North Korean Sergeant Oh.
An altogether different story is told by North Korean Sergeant Oh. He states that Lee entered the guardroom without warning and fired upon the three North Koreans without warning or provocation. Oh, the only survivor, managed to shoot Lee in the leg. Lee then ran from the guardhouse and struggles to the other side while the North and South Korean forces begin firing upon one another.
Jean and her Swedish NNSC assistant obviously work out that further investigation is required. They then view the bodies of the two dead North Korean soldiers in the morgue. Both bodies are riddled with bullets that were fired from a 9mm Beretta handgun - the sort carried by South Korean guards in the JSA. However, while both soldiers were killed by a bullet through the head, one was performed at close range, execution style, which indicated a deliberate act. The other soldier's body was riddled with bullets after he was killed by the shot in the head, which indicates some form of rage.
Private Nam is interrogated by Major Jean.
As the investigation continues, Major Jean concludes that, based on ballistic evidence, 16 bullets were fired, despite the fact that the pistols only carry 15 rounds. Further forensic evidence proves that another person, South Korean Private Nam Sum-shik (Kim Tae Woo) was in the guardhouse at the time of the murder. Moreover, it is discovered that Private Nam's handgun was the one used for the killings.
Major Jean's investigation takes a sudden turn when Private Nam, confronted with the evidence that he was involved in the killing, attempts suicide by jumping from a second story window. Major Jean is then set upon by Sergeant Lee, who nearly strangles her before others rescue her. The badly injured Nam, meanwhile, lapses into a coma.
It is at this point that the film goes back in time many months and shows the events leading up to the deaths. We see a squad of South Korean troops moving through a field of tall grass at night. They are wearing night vision goggles and are very worried. While the officers consult together, Lee (then a Corporal) moves away from the squad to urinate in private. The officers are concerned. They are looking at a map of the JSA and then consult their GPS receiver. Suddenly one of the officers looks up and announces to the others that they have inadvertently crossed the border into North Korea. A quick look through a rifle scope shows that they are very close to the Bridge of No Return, and the North Korean guardpost is in clear view. Quietly and quickly, the squad moves South. Lee, however, is still urinating and is unaware of the squad's passing. Eventually he zips up and takes a few steps to his right and stops. His boot is caught underneath a tripwire. Lee realises he is standing on a landmine. If he trips the wire, he will be killed.
Lee's foot is hooked under a tripwire. He is standing on a landmine.
Lee realises that he cannot move. His calls for help (including on his radio) are unanswered. Suddenly he hears a noise. Something is approaching. A small dog appears and Lee is relieved. But someone is following the dog. Into view comes a North Korean soldier.
The two are shocked at each other's presence. Suddenly they fumble for their weapons. Lee is faster and is able to point his rifle at the soldier before he can get his pistol out. The North Korean raises his hands over his head.
Then Lee is attacked from behind by another North Korean soldier who puts him in a choke hold and disarms him. The man who disarms him is Sergeant Oh. Very quickly Lee explains that he is standing on a land mine. Oh and Private Jeong Woo-jin (the soldier with the dog, played by Shin Ha-kyun) then decide to disarm the mine and save a grateful Lee. Before parting, they share a cigarette with Lee.
North Korean Private Jeong in a moment of crisis.
Lee owes his life to these two North Korean soldiers. Had they left him to die, or had they arrested him, they would be only doing their duty. By saving Lee and then letting him go (despite having crossed into North Korea) their actions have profoundly affected Lee's understanding of the enemy.
Lee's duty in the JSA is varied. Not only does he go on patrols with his squad, he is also responsible for guard duty at border crossing. There he, along with Private Nam, stand guard opposite their North Korean counterparts.
Sergeant Lee (left) and Private Nam doing a live-fire exercise in the JSA.
Lee and Nam are also paired up at "The Bridge of No Return", where they often act as the guards in the South Korean guardhouse.
"The Bridge of No Return" as depicted in the film. The tree on the left is depicted as being the one responsible for the "Axe Murder Incident". Here we see people crossing the bridge from the North Korean side.
Lee soon realises that the guards who saved his life - Oh and Jeong - are stationed opposite him in the North Korean guardhouse. He then begins to throw letters and parcels across, thus beginning an illicit communication with these two North Koreans. The two North Koreans respond in kind, and a form of "long distance friendship" occurs between Lee in the south and Oh and Jeong in the north (despite the fact that less than 100 metres separates them). Lee sends them popular South Korean music which is much appreciated.
Eventually the temptation is too much. While Nam (who is unaware of the illicit communication) sleeps in the guardhouse, Lee crosses over the bridge and enters the North Korean guardhouse.
Oh and Jeong gape at Lee.
Lee (left) and Jeong consider the dangerous nature of this meeting.
After being shocked by Lee's impetuosity, the three soldiers eventually retire to an underground bunkhouse where they toast their new friendship. It is revealed there that Sergeant Oh is an experienced soldier who has trained soldiers in Egypt and Libya, and who has killed in battle.
Despite the danger of Lee's actions and the actions of the two North Koreans in not arresting or killing this enemy soldier, they agree to continue their clandestine relationship. Their jobs are similar, too, with both Jeong and Oh guarding the border crossing. This makes for a hilarious situation in which Jeong and Lee, facing one another in their positions directly across the border from one another, begin a "spitting competition" that causes both of them to break down in laughter.
Jeong and Lee stand opposite one another, the border dividing them.
Lee cracks up after managing to spit on Jeong's foot.
Jeong cracks up after hitting Lee in the face.
Nam, however, remains unaware of this situation, but not for long. Eventually Lee convinces Nam to come with him across the Bridge Of No Return to meet Jeong and Oh. The four become quick friends.
Jeong, Lee and Oh see a picture of Nam's girlfriend, and are suitably impressed.
The four soldiers playing a game in the North Korean bunkhouse.
One night they have a hopping competition.
Despite their growing, illicit friendship, the four still understand that they are at war. Jeong at one point wishes that the South Koreans could get out of the way so that they can attack the Americans. At another point, Nam and Lee, alone together on the South Korean side, consider whether it is possible that Jeong and Oh are actually trying to get them to defect to the North. One night, while Oh begins to scoff down a Choco Pie, Lee asks off-handedly whether Oh or Jeong would like to "come down south", where he can have as many Choco Pies as he wants.
Suddenly the atmosphere goes cold and Oh turns on Lee and declares his allegiance to the North. While Oh enjoys eating the South Korean Choco Pies, he would much rather wait until the North had the ability to manufacture the best chocolates on the Peninsula. The tension passes,
however.
Later, a full scale security alert occurs, and South Korean troops are rushed to the border. At the same time, North Korean troops are placed on high alert as well. The danger passes.
Nam and Lee agree that their friendship with Oh and Jeong cannot last, and decide to visit them one last time. Jeong, a talented artist, is given a present of brushes and paper from Nam. Jeong begins to cry and the four are heartbroken that their friendship must come to an end.
Nam opens the door of the guardhouse to leave, but the door opens before he gets there. In the doorway stands a North Korean Lieutenant who has come to check on Oh and Jeong. The North Korean officer pulls his gun on Nam and forces his way back into the guardhouse. Lee, meanwhile, has drawn his Beretta and is pointing it at the Lieutenant. A tense stand off ensues, and Sergeant Oh tries to calm everyone down.
It's at this point that I will no longer continue a description of the plot. Sorry about that but I need to move on from what the film signifies. If you want to see how the film ends, and more about Major Sophie Jean's investigation into what happened, then go and hire it yourself - or better still, buy it. While I have given a substantial summary of the plot it is better for you to discover the rest for yourself.
Again, as Westerners, we need to remember that the situation facing both North and South Korea is unique. These are a common people with a common language who share a common history. However, the fracture that is the demilitarized zone has turned brother into enemy, and trust into suspicion.
This break in relationship, I believe, strikes at the heart of all Koreans. It is a painful tear in their joint national psyches. The JSA is the only place where the two halves meet - and only in blatant and continual hostility and distrust.
JSA is an important film for all Koreans because it has essentially removed quite a number of taboos. For starters, the film makers and the cast are all South Korean, which, in a time of perpetual war, would normally result in the usual "good vs evil" storyline, where the good South Koreans are pitted against the evil North Koreans. Not so in JSA. In JSA the North Koreans are humanised - they are shown to have normal human reactions, behaviours and beliefs. More than that, they are shown to have traits like loyalty and compassion - the sort of things that only the "good guys" would have. As a result, the film breaks down the stereotype and makes the audience (in this case, South Koreans mainly) question the nature of their own attitudes.
Jeong - a North Korean - has artistic ability and makes sketches of the girlfriends of other soldiers.
The heart of the film is the relationship between the four soldiers. Like Romeo and Juliet, these soldiers are attracted to someone that they have been taught to hate - yet their experiences tell them otherwise. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, of course, there is nothing romantic about their friendship. Like Sam and Frodo in Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings film trilogy, the bonds of deep male friendship are explored.
Yet the friendships these four have is naive and innocent. They play games; They eat chocolate; They boast about themselves and insult one another; They talk about women (Lee even takes a porn mag over for Lee and Jeong, much to their delight); They arm wrestle; They listen to music; They smoke and drink alcohol together; They tell jokes; They fart.
In short, the most remarkable aspect about this story is the fact that the four soldiers are unremarkable. They are not special in any way. None of them is a secret agent. None of them have entered into the friendship for spying purposes. There is no deep conspiracy occurring. While Major Sophie Jean's investigation proves that a cover-up had occurred, the natural reaction - that one or both sides was doing something hidden and secretive in order to gain advantage over the other - is proved to be far too complex. The fact is that four soldiers became friends - they became, in Australian parlance, close "mates".
Yet the reality that is the divided Korea eventually destroys this close friendship. Despite the crossing of the Bridge of No Return and spending time with one another, they remain formal enemies. More than that, they are also professional soldiers, and act accordingly. This fact is borne out in a scene where Lee and Nam are doing a live fire exercise with cut-out figures of North Korean soldiers being shot at by the South Koreans. In this scene, Nam and Lee begin to wonder whether Oh and Jeong have become their friends in order to capture them or kill them or for some other horrible purpose. Lee, however, makes his final judgement - "they saved my life", referring to the landmine he had been standing on. There's no more to be said. They cannot have any evil purpose - they saved Lee's life. At that point it is Lee's turn to shoot at the target.
All three bullets strike the target, once in the head, and one through each eye. The message here is clear - these people are soldiers, and soldiers will do their duty. They will make split-second decisions based upon their training. Even though the four soldiers are friends, they will, given the opportunity and the circumstance, react like soldiers.
Sadly, like Romeo and Juliet, the film is a tragedy. The friendship that is normal amongst people can be destroyed by the power of beliefs and attitudes and results in death. While Nam and Lee can walk back and forth over the Bridge of No Return, they can longer return to what was before. On the one hand, their attitudes have changed towards one another. On the other hand, the system that controls them has not changed, and will deal with any problems accordingly, including the actions and reactions that have been drilled into the four soldiers.
The use of Major Jean's character helps give the film a subtle twist. When the film starts she is the clearly identifiable main character... yet after some time she becomes sidelined by the narrative of the four soldiers' friendship. Lee and Oh, silent and sullen at the film's beginning, have their characters developed more fully as the film progresses.
Major Jean (right) interviewing Lee's girlfriend.
One important part of the plot early on involves Major Jean interviewing Lee's girlfriend as she is preparing for a show - she is a dancer for a children's concert. During the interview she innocently reveals that, while she and Lee are "not serious", she likes him because of his friendship with Nam, who is her brother. When Jean asks her further about this, she confirms that Nam and Lee are close friends - a fact which eventually leads Jean to place Nam in the guardhouse at the time of the killings.
This particular scene is notable because of its use of masks. The dancers backstage are putting their costumes on for their children's performance. Lee's girlfriend is dressed as an ape and, after revealing the information about her brother, Nam, to Major Jean, she places the ape head on and goes out with the other dancers to perform their routine. The camera then has a side focus, showing the dressed up dancers performing, with Major Jean shown backstage.
The juxtaposition is clear. On one side we have a person who is investigating a murder mulling over some important information. On the other side we have a series of dancers in animal dress performing happy dance routines for children. Darkness and light. Truth and lies. Sadness and happiness. Revelation and cover-up.
The scene itself is a microcosm of what probably occurs within South Korean society. In order to cope with the continual threat posed by the North, one solution is to ignore the threat, put on a happy face and do your routines. Yet this is not enough. The director, Park Chan-wook, probably inserted this scene as a challenge to the Korean viewers. Is it right to keep the truth from escaping? Is it right to depict the North as evil and the South as good? Is it right to cover up in the pursuit of happiness?
Another theme that runs throughout the film is the use of lines - borders that you are not meant to cross. We have the concrete line dividing North and South at Panmunjeom that is continually guarded by North and South alike, facing off at one another in a parade-ground like stance. One scene has Oh and Lee facing one another, with Oh remarking humorously that Lee's shadow is now on the North Korean side. We have the metal line across the Bridge of No Return marking the same border. When Lee convinces Nam to walk over it for the first time to meet Jeong and Oh, Nam hesitates and begins to doubt. While the two argue, the camera remains focused upon the metal divide on the bridge and the boots of Nam and Lee facing each other from either side.
A South Korean Border patrol chase a rabbit.
But the Rabbit has already been caught by the North - held here by Private Jeong.
If there is one scene which encapsulates the film, it is when a North Korean and a South Korean patrol meet in a snowy wilderness. The border divides them clearly, as seen in the background. A face off ensues, with the North Koreans pointing their guns towards the South, and the South Koreans pointing their guns towards the North.
The face-off between North and South.
Suddenly the squad leaders of both sides walk out to meet one another. Sergeant Oh is the Northern Squad leader, while Lee remains at the rear while his squad leader goes out to meet Oh.
The Squad leaders exchange cigarettes.
The two do not talk. Instead, as they approach each another they each pull out a packet of cigarettes to offer to one another. The South Korean smokes the North's cigarette, the North Korean smokes the South's cigarette. They both stand, with an implied border between them, not talking, but smoking together without rancor or threats. Eventually they finish and walk back to their units, who then return to their patrols.
It is an interesting scene. It is both threatening and humourous. The men on each side point their weapons in a real show of military strength. Meanwhile the leaders of the two get together for a wordless smoke. This is yet another juxtaposition that the film portrays. Moreover, it is a microcosm of the entire North-South relationship - threats, real danger, hatred, suspicion, and a cordial yet ultimately useless relationship between the leaders of North and South. Moreover, despite the real threats and the danger, the two units move off without incident - in the same way North and South still manage to keep the peace. But while there is a lack of war, there is also a lack of relationship. Something that we see in Lee's reaction in this scene to seeing both Oh and Jeong. While his fellow soldiers remain poised for action, Lee lowers his rifle unconsciously - he knows that no threat exists. He is then upbraided by a fellow soldier for being lax in his duty, and raises his weapon again. Lee's actions betray his thoughts - peace is more than just lack of war, it also involves relationship. Lee lowers his weapon because he knows that Oh and Jeong have saved his life - they are no longer a threat to him. This saving of Lee's life implies the beginning of the relationship.
Finally, the four soldiers in their friendship refer to one another as "brothers". Pointedly, both Oh and Jeong manage to convey their distaste of the word "comrade" and embrace the use of "Brother". North and South may still be separate, but they are still brothers. The film holds out some hope that one day the two nations may be one again.
Despite these wonderful themes, the film does have a number of problems - especially for English speaking viewers.
For starters, the English subtitles in the film do not fully convey the meaning behind the Korean dialogue. Obviously I can't speak Korean and relied upon the subtitles on the DVD. I also watched some of the film's documentary, and in that doco they included scenes from the film. I noticed almost straight away that the documentary used more complex English words in the subtitled movie scenes than were used in the actual film's subtitles. Although the temptation may be there to simplify the film for us dumb westerners, the fact is that those who appreciate sub-titled films are more likely to appreciate the use of more complex words. Although this may seem slightly "alien", the fact is that the film will always be "different' because it is spoken in Korean. Some plot holes that I thought existed in the film were only actually the result of bad subtitles.
Secondly, there are sections of the film in which the dialogue is in English. Major Sophie Jean is Swiss, and speaks English to her superior officer and to her Swedish assistant. I'm obviously assuming that, since a language barrier exists between the Swiss and the Swedish, and because of the presence of Americans in the JSA, that the NNSC probably uses English and Korean as the standard method of communicating.
Nevertheless, the English dialogue is astounding in its ineptness. Had they spoken in Korean and their words put into sub-titles it would have been better. The scriptwriter for the film probably had some working level of English, but, for some reason, neither the script nor the actors could convincingly manage to pull off believable English dialogue. I suspect that the film's producers insisted on English as a means to broaden the film's appeal in America - but if so, they needed better script and acting work to pull it off.
Having said all that I must praise the producers, and the director, for creating a film that is so Korea-centric and yet has so much appeal universally. The details of the film, including the immaculate recreation of the Panmunjeom site, and the use of historically accurate locations such as the Bridge of No Return, make no compromises. The film forced me, as an English-speaking viewer, to understand the details of the North-South conflict (including the NNSC, the Bridge, Panmunjeom, the history of the Korean War) rather than simplifying it or putting it on a platter for me. This is probably because the intended audience - South Koreans - already know much of the situation.
The film also lacks a major Hollwood star - but that is completely understandable. The fact that the film has managed to gain such a following and such critical acclaim in the English speaking world speaks volumes for the film's quality - all without the need to employ even a token Hollwood actor. The film suffers in the West because, well, we westerners find it harder to distinguish amongst Asian faces. Yet the film manages to overcome this. I am certain now that if I ever meet Song Kang-ho (who played Oh) walking around in Australia I would ask him for his autograph.
The film's heart - the relationship between the four soldiers - is also the source of its strength. Each of the four soldiers has an endearing quality about him. Lee is impetuous, emotional and skillful. Nam is simple but easily pleased. Jeong is the "joker" whose mannerisms give him a comedic edge. Oh is respectable, tough, trustworthy and honourable. The four get on so well that the audience cannot help but enjoy their simple and open friendship - as well as mourn so much the tragedy that befalls them. The film forces us to care about these men who find that being human and being a soldier cannot always be reconciled. It forces us to care about "the enemy" and to see them as human beings rather than as mindless and faceless drones.
In this day and age, when we are constantly being told that we are threatened by a faceless enemy (JSA was made before 9/11), the film offers us an alternative to bombastic threats and a "kill them all" mentality. It is a war film for people who love peace.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 License.
2007-01-29
Barton Fink film review (with pics)
Hollywood is about money, and that determines what it makes. In a nutshell, that is the meaning behind the Coen Brothers' 1991 film Barton Fink.
Considering the film's strange storyline, its unlikeable characters and confusing ending, it is supremely ironic that this film was made within the Hollywood system.
Ethan and Joel Coen, the film's creators, are Hollywood's odd couple. Despite their offbeat humour, they have managed to create profitable and influential films within the Hollywood system. Early efforts like Raising Arizona and Miller's Crossing gave a hint of what they were capable of, and it is unlikely that film watchers will again experience the pleasure of the great 1-2-3 punch of Fargo, The Big Lebowski and O Brother Where art Thou?
Modern fans of the Coen brothers will look at those three films with great nostalgia as the years go by (and wonder why it was that The Man who wasn't there was only average and Intolerable Cruelty was so poor). Yet many will look upon Barton Fink with confusion.
For starters, Barton Fink contains none of the incisive wit and humour of their later films – and this despite starring Coen favourites John Turturro as the main character, John Goodman as a mysterious insurance salesman and Steve Buscemi as Chet the bellhop.
Fargo, Lebowski and Brother are all combinations of humour and drama. Fink, however, is mainly drama – though with enough idiosyncracies to identify the film as one of the Coen's. If Fargo was a send-up of Minnesota, Lebowski a send-up of California and Brother a send-up of the deep south, then Fink is a send-up of Hollywood. And Hollywood, deep down, is a serious place and cannot be sent up with much humour.

The film is possibly autobiographical in that Fink represents the Coen Brothers. Set in 1942-1943, Barton Fink is a young and successful Jewish playwright who is critically acclaimed for his Broadway productions. Fink is a true artist – his art must reflect true humanity and exalt “the common man” above everything else. Fink sees his work seriously and believes that it may lead to the betterment of humanity. He, along with a number of other young playwrights in New York, are redefining theatre by focusing upon the lives of the ordinary rather than the extraordinary. Deeply committed to his artform, Fink sees no room for compromise.
That is, until he gets an offer to go to Hollywood. The critical praise that Fink's plays gain in the New York newspapers has filtered through to a studio executive in Hollywood who wants Fink to work for him and write screenplays for films. Fink reluctantly agrees, seeing in this opportunity the ability to raise enough cash over the period to support his artistic work for many years to come. Besides, as his agent informs him, “the common man will still be here when you get back”.
The rest of the film covers the first week of Fink's tenure as a scriptwriter for Capital films. Typically and painfully, Fink is asked to write a script for a B-movie wrestling picture.

The Hollywood of the 1940s depicted in the film is strangely sparse, and completely opposite to Fink's New York. In New York, Fink is feted by the rich intelligentsia. In Los Angeles, Fink is manipulated and confused by the executives running the business – Jack Lipnick (Michael Lerner) and Lou Breeze (Jon Polito). Fink's art is not respected in Hollywood - only his ability to write a popular script... something which he is unable to do in the week he is given.

So what is Fink to do? Shacked up in a dirty and cheap hotel with melting wallpaper and armed with his typewriter, Fink has the choice between being artistic or being a hack – between being himself or earning the cash.

Many people refer to LA as “Hell” (Matt Groening for example). For Fink, his first week in Los Angeles is hell. Despite every room in the hotel being full, Fink sees no other people apart from Chet the funny looking bellhop, an elevator operator who looks and sounds as though he was a bored boatman, patiently and distractedly transporting souls into the nether world, and Charlie Meadows (John Goodman), an insurance salesman who lives next door to Fink and who eventually turns out to be the ruler of the damned, flames and all.

The inference is that Fink has unwittingly sold his soul to work for Hollywood. Yet Fink is not a hack, but a true artist. His entrapment in hell is made all the worse when he finally produces a work that he can be proud of – a masterpiece so important that he churns it out over a few days non-stop work. Yet when this work is presented to the studio executives it is so completely and horrifically dismissed that Fink is stunned. Moreover, he realises that his work is actually owned by the studio and cannot be published or performed without the studio's say so. As he is led out the door, he is also informed that his contract prevents him from writing anywhere else and that he will remain in LA for the rest of his days, unable to write or produce anything that he can call his. Hell indeed.
Warning signs abound throughout the film. Fink is trying to express the point of view of the “common man” in his work, yet when he meets Meadows, as common a man as any (to begin with), he cannot relate to him. More than that, it also becomes clear that it is only the intellectual elite that is worried about presenting the “common man” - of which Fink is a representative – as it is revealed that all the “common man” wants to do is use film as an attractive escape.

Another warning sign is when Fink meets and hooks up with W.P. Mayhew (John Mahoney) and his secretary, Audrey (Judy Davis). Mayhew was once a fine author and someone to whom Fink looked up to. Fink was ecstatic to meet such a fine literary figure working in Hollywood and immediately begins to strike up a relationship with him. Alas, Mayhew had sold his soul many years previously, and has become a woman-beater, an alcoholic and, even worse, a hack who can't even write his own authored work any more. Fink is horrified at Mayhew's state. In response, he strikes up a doomed relationship with Mayhew's secretary Audrey.

Fink's room inside the Hotel Earle is another indicator that something is amiss. Living in a low class hotel as a means of identifying with the “common man”, the heat of Los Angeles leads to a stifling, claustrophobic room for Fink to work and sleep in. So warm is it that the wallpaper begins to unglue from the walls, leaving sticky liquid to run down them. The room is a symbol of Fink's desire to understand and relate to the “common man” through his art, but its slow and dismal destruction by heat shows up Fink's arrogance – his entire artistry is inherently flawed.

There is only one bright spot in the room. Above the desk which Fink writes is a picture of a beautiful young woman at the beach. It is idyllic. It is simple. It is escapist. It is everything that Fink does not stand for. And yet he refuses to take it down through his days of writer's block. Every time Fink sits down to write, the camera pauses on the picture and Fink's fixation with it, and we hear the sound of waves and seagulls.
Fink has a choice. He can pursue his flawed art or he can bite the bullet and concentrate upon the beautiful and escapist – what Hollywood wants its main players to work on. Does he want to be realist and true to his art or does he want to earn money and please the masses with manufactured fiction?

Initially we see Fink being true to his art – yet the work he presents the studio executives with leads him to eternal damnation. The film closes with Fink on the beach where he meets a beautiful young woman who then sits on the sand and exactly replicates the pose of the woman in the picture in his hotel room. Fink has found his answer. He will work for the devil and will write about the beautiful and inane, with only an unopened box next to him to remind us of the cost (watch the film if you want to find out what is in the box).

The cynicism of Hollywood and its lies and manipulations jar horribly with Fink's idealism. Told that he is a genius by executive Lipnick and even given a literal boot kissing from him, it is obvious at the end of the film that it was all a ploy to get him working. Fink doesn't even have the chance to return the favour to Lipnick before he is thrown out of the room and confined to the flames.

Another trait which is probably all Hollywood is the “sink or swim” attitude. Fink is an effete, idealistic artist who is unsure of how to perform for his corporate masters – and yet none of them offer any form of effective help. Fink is all about how to serve man for the best. Hollywood is about how to use others to serve yourself. No wonder Fink is so successfully ground down by, and at odds with, the system he has sold himself to.

As with many Coen brothers films, bit players make an impact. As soon as I saw The Big Lebowski I knew that Phillip Seymour Hoffman would win an oscar one day – despite the fact that his screen time is so limited. Buscemi as Chet and Davis as Audrey make an impact on the film greater than the air time they receive, as does Tony Shaloub (“Monk”) who plays Ben Geisler - a cynical and busy executive who complains to Fink that Lipnick “has taken a interest” (sic) in him.

In retrospect, Fink's character is not that attractive. He is serious and passionate and artistic – yet his relationships with others are little more than attempts to serve his artform or career. Fink has no real friends and only becomes acquainted with Charlie Meadows because of the salesman's insistent attitude. Ironically, Meadows is the only person in Los Angeles who pursues a relationship with Fink based upon a desire for friendship – who would have guessed that the Devil himself is the most personable man in hell? Fink's lack of humanity towards others belies his concern for the “common man” and actually places him in the same category as the executives who flatter and deceive him for their own ends – Fink is more like the people he despises than he realises. Since Fink is the film's protagonist and the character the audience naturally identifies with, the realisation that he shares some of the blame for his own misfortune is unsettling. Fink's artistry and passion are without question – it's just that he does not share a concern for the “common man” that he so desperately writes about. Fink is blinded by his own self-importance and commitment to his art and it is this blindness which is his ultimate undoing. Had Fink been a little more cynical, a little more proactive, a little more reflective, he may have saved himself from artistic damnation.

The film is not for anyone looking for action or conventional story-telling. It is not as funny or as tight as the Coen's other films, being dreamy and confusing, with seemingly unimportant events becoming central to its theme. The film won a series of important awards at the Cannes film festival in 1991 – Best Film, Best Direction, Best Actor (John Turturro).
In short, Barton Fink is to the Coen Brothers as Blade Runner was to Ridley Scott. Confusing, slow, out of focus, dark, shocking and occasionally wryly humorous. Fargo, Lebowski and Brother it is not. It stands alone, a testament to the system that created it in the first place, and a harsh critic of arrogance and cynicism alike.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Considering the film's strange storyline, its unlikeable characters and confusing ending, it is supremely ironic that this film was made within the Hollywood system.
Ethan and Joel Coen, the film's creators, are Hollywood's odd couple. Despite their offbeat humour, they have managed to create profitable and influential films within the Hollywood system. Early efforts like Raising Arizona and Miller's Crossing gave a hint of what they were capable of, and it is unlikely that film watchers will again experience the pleasure of the great 1-2-3 punch of Fargo, The Big Lebowski and O Brother Where art Thou?
Modern fans of the Coen brothers will look at those three films with great nostalgia as the years go by (and wonder why it was that The Man who wasn't there was only average and Intolerable Cruelty was so poor). Yet many will look upon Barton Fink with confusion.
For starters, Barton Fink contains none of the incisive wit and humour of their later films – and this despite starring Coen favourites John Turturro as the main character, John Goodman as a mysterious insurance salesman and Steve Buscemi as Chet the bellhop.
Fargo, Lebowski and Brother are all combinations of humour and drama. Fink, however, is mainly drama – though with enough idiosyncracies to identify the film as one of the Coen's. If Fargo was a send-up of Minnesota, Lebowski a send-up of California and Brother a send-up of the deep south, then Fink is a send-up of Hollywood. And Hollywood, deep down, is a serious place and cannot be sent up with much humour.
The film is possibly autobiographical in that Fink represents the Coen Brothers. Set in 1942-1943, Barton Fink is a young and successful Jewish playwright who is critically acclaimed for his Broadway productions. Fink is a true artist – his art must reflect true humanity and exalt “the common man” above everything else. Fink sees his work seriously and believes that it may lead to the betterment of humanity. He, along with a number of other young playwrights in New York, are redefining theatre by focusing upon the lives of the ordinary rather than the extraordinary. Deeply committed to his artform, Fink sees no room for compromise.
That is, until he gets an offer to go to Hollywood. The critical praise that Fink's plays gain in the New York newspapers has filtered through to a studio executive in Hollywood who wants Fink to work for him and write screenplays for films. Fink reluctantly agrees, seeing in this opportunity the ability to raise enough cash over the period to support his artistic work for many years to come. Besides, as his agent informs him, “the common man will still be here when you get back”.
The rest of the film covers the first week of Fink's tenure as a scriptwriter for Capital films. Typically and painfully, Fink is asked to write a script for a B-movie wrestling picture.
The Hollywood of the 1940s depicted in the film is strangely sparse, and completely opposite to Fink's New York. In New York, Fink is feted by the rich intelligentsia. In Los Angeles, Fink is manipulated and confused by the executives running the business – Jack Lipnick (Michael Lerner) and Lou Breeze (Jon Polito). Fink's art is not respected in Hollywood - only his ability to write a popular script... something which he is unable to do in the week he is given.
So what is Fink to do? Shacked up in a dirty and cheap hotel with melting wallpaper and armed with his typewriter, Fink has the choice between being artistic or being a hack – between being himself or earning the cash.
Many people refer to LA as “Hell” (Matt Groening for example). For Fink, his first week in Los Angeles is hell. Despite every room in the hotel being full, Fink sees no other people apart from Chet the funny looking bellhop, an elevator operator who looks and sounds as though he was a bored boatman, patiently and distractedly transporting souls into the nether world, and Charlie Meadows (John Goodman), an insurance salesman who lives next door to Fink and who eventually turns out to be the ruler of the damned, flames and all.
The inference is that Fink has unwittingly sold his soul to work for Hollywood. Yet Fink is not a hack, but a true artist. His entrapment in hell is made all the worse when he finally produces a work that he can be proud of – a masterpiece so important that he churns it out over a few days non-stop work. Yet when this work is presented to the studio executives it is so completely and horrifically dismissed that Fink is stunned. Moreover, he realises that his work is actually owned by the studio and cannot be published or performed without the studio's say so. As he is led out the door, he is also informed that his contract prevents him from writing anywhere else and that he will remain in LA for the rest of his days, unable to write or produce anything that he can call his. Hell indeed.
Warning signs abound throughout the film. Fink is trying to express the point of view of the “common man” in his work, yet when he meets Meadows, as common a man as any (to begin with), he cannot relate to him. More than that, it also becomes clear that it is only the intellectual elite that is worried about presenting the “common man” - of which Fink is a representative – as it is revealed that all the “common man” wants to do is use film as an attractive escape.
Another warning sign is when Fink meets and hooks up with W.P. Mayhew (John Mahoney) and his secretary, Audrey (Judy Davis). Mayhew was once a fine author and someone to whom Fink looked up to. Fink was ecstatic to meet such a fine literary figure working in Hollywood and immediately begins to strike up a relationship with him. Alas, Mayhew had sold his soul many years previously, and has become a woman-beater, an alcoholic and, even worse, a hack who can't even write his own authored work any more. Fink is horrified at Mayhew's state. In response, he strikes up a doomed relationship with Mayhew's secretary Audrey.
Fink's room inside the Hotel Earle is another indicator that something is amiss. Living in a low class hotel as a means of identifying with the “common man”, the heat of Los Angeles leads to a stifling, claustrophobic room for Fink to work and sleep in. So warm is it that the wallpaper begins to unglue from the walls, leaving sticky liquid to run down them. The room is a symbol of Fink's desire to understand and relate to the “common man” through his art, but its slow and dismal destruction by heat shows up Fink's arrogance – his entire artistry is inherently flawed.
There is only one bright spot in the room. Above the desk which Fink writes is a picture of a beautiful young woman at the beach. It is idyllic. It is simple. It is escapist. It is everything that Fink does not stand for. And yet he refuses to take it down through his days of writer's block. Every time Fink sits down to write, the camera pauses on the picture and Fink's fixation with it, and we hear the sound of waves and seagulls.
Fink has a choice. He can pursue his flawed art or he can bite the bullet and concentrate upon the beautiful and escapist – what Hollywood wants its main players to work on. Does he want to be realist and true to his art or does he want to earn money and please the masses with manufactured fiction?
Initially we see Fink being true to his art – yet the work he presents the studio executives with leads him to eternal damnation. The film closes with Fink on the beach where he meets a beautiful young woman who then sits on the sand and exactly replicates the pose of the woman in the picture in his hotel room. Fink has found his answer. He will work for the devil and will write about the beautiful and inane, with only an unopened box next to him to remind us of the cost (watch the film if you want to find out what is in the box).
The cynicism of Hollywood and its lies and manipulations jar horribly with Fink's idealism. Told that he is a genius by executive Lipnick and even given a literal boot kissing from him, it is obvious at the end of the film that it was all a ploy to get him working. Fink doesn't even have the chance to return the favour to Lipnick before he is thrown out of the room and confined to the flames.
Another trait which is probably all Hollywood is the “sink or swim” attitude. Fink is an effete, idealistic artist who is unsure of how to perform for his corporate masters – and yet none of them offer any form of effective help. Fink is all about how to serve man for the best. Hollywood is about how to use others to serve yourself. No wonder Fink is so successfully ground down by, and at odds with, the system he has sold himself to.
As with many Coen brothers films, bit players make an impact. As soon as I saw The Big Lebowski I knew that Phillip Seymour Hoffman would win an oscar one day – despite the fact that his screen time is so limited. Buscemi as Chet and Davis as Audrey make an impact on the film greater than the air time they receive, as does Tony Shaloub (“Monk”) who plays Ben Geisler - a cynical and busy executive who complains to Fink that Lipnick “has taken a interest” (sic) in him.
In retrospect, Fink's character is not that attractive. He is serious and passionate and artistic – yet his relationships with others are little more than attempts to serve his artform or career. Fink has no real friends and only becomes acquainted with Charlie Meadows because of the salesman's insistent attitude. Ironically, Meadows is the only person in Los Angeles who pursues a relationship with Fink based upon a desire for friendship – who would have guessed that the Devil himself is the most personable man in hell? Fink's lack of humanity towards others belies his concern for the “common man” and actually places him in the same category as the executives who flatter and deceive him for their own ends – Fink is more like the people he despises than he realises. Since Fink is the film's protagonist and the character the audience naturally identifies with, the realisation that he shares some of the blame for his own misfortune is unsettling. Fink's artistry and passion are without question – it's just that he does not share a concern for the “common man” that he so desperately writes about. Fink is blinded by his own self-importance and commitment to his art and it is this blindness which is his ultimate undoing. Had Fink been a little more cynical, a little more proactive, a little more reflective, he may have saved himself from artistic damnation.
The film is not for anyone looking for action or conventional story-telling. It is not as funny or as tight as the Coen's other films, being dreamy and confusing, with seemingly unimportant events becoming central to its theme. The film won a series of important awards at the Cannes film festival in 1991 – Best Film, Best Direction, Best Actor (John Turturro).
In short, Barton Fink is to the Coen Brothers as Blade Runner was to Ridley Scott. Confusing, slow, out of focus, dark, shocking and occasionally wryly humorous. Fargo, Lebowski and Brother it is not. It stands alone, a testament to the system that created it in the first place, and a harsh critic of arrogance and cynicism alike.
© 2007 Neil McKenzie Cameron, http://one-salient-oversight.blogspot.com/
FAQ about the author
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)