Category: On Films

Do you ever watch a film, coming in with low expectations because of the poor reviews, but once you watch it, your expectations have been completely overturned?

I’ve noticed that this has happened to me a lot. It’s as if the reviews and the hype surrounding a film are based on cinematic standards that are different from mine. If a reviewer opines that a film is awful, what are they basing that off of? Perhaps they are just nitpicking certain scenes, such as a line of dialogue, or the way a character said something. Perhaps there are plot holes in the story or undeveloped storylines. Or perhaps the special effects and CGI aren’t up to their standards. The list can go on and on.

But standards have to be aligned with the genre the film belongs to. An action film or a sci-fi film doesn’t need to be an award winning film. And vice versa: a drama doesn’t need to have a lot of action, CGI or special effects. The expectations have to be aligned with the genre a film is in.

All of us have our own standard for what we define as being comedic, exciting, dramatic, intense, etc. Each of us focuses on certain things like dialogue, cinematography, and acting. Some people might overemphasize certain categories, and if one of those categories fail, the film could be judged negatively as a result.

In the end, we have to watch a film to have our own assessment of it. We cannot rely on the judgment of others. There isn’t an objective measure for something like this, although there are statistical averages that give us an idea of what many people think. But do our opinions always fall into the average? Of course not.

We can read the reviews to get a gauge of whether we might like a film or not, but in the end, it’s just a gauge. Our assessment of a film centers on what we take away from the experience.

What is it about director’s cut that makes it different from the original film? A director’s cut implies that the original cut was not the “actual” vision of the director. It implies that the director didn’t get “final cut” for their film. Hence, a director’s cut is the film as they wanted it to be–unaltered, unabridged.

During the editing of a film, compromises are made, and scenes are removed or added to make it more marketable or profitable. From this perspective, the intent of the film is to make it more accessible to audiences, hence, profitable.

But years later, we come across a director’s cut that is being released on Blu Ray or DVD. That implies that the director’s vision wasn’t fully represented in the theatrical release. The director’s cut might be the original version before it was edited for theaters, or it might be the version they edited after the release. Why not? It doesn’t need to be marketed for theatrical release anymore. It’s made it’s money back.

Is the director cut a marketing ploy for more sales, or is it an attempt by the director to show audiences what they were missing–what they didn’t see in theaters? Perhaps both. Maybe a director’s cut is just a longer version of the original film. Maybe it has a different tone, or maybe it has more storylines or scenes in it.

Regardless of what’s different about them, director’s cut are important in the sense that it represents the director’s true vision–the unabridged version they wanted you to see. It goes back to the premise of the director as auteur–the artist of the picture.

I enjoy superhero films, but one thing I’ve noticed over the years is the plethora of origin stories with regards to superheroes: Batman, Superman, X-Men (i.e. after X-Men 3), and Spiderman. It seems that with every reboot, an origin story must be in the works.

Each iteration is almost the same but with differences in the cast, direction, villains, etc. It makes me wonder if in each one, are the filmmakers trying to enlighten or educate us on something new about the superheroes? What knowledge was missing from the last iteration? Did they acquire new powers or abilities? Is another origin story necessary to inform us of who the superheroes are or why they exist?

Batman went through 4 different iterations already beginning with Tim Burton, Joel Schumacher, Christopher Nolan, Zach Snyder, and now Matt Reeves (the 5th iteration in The Batman). Each director brings a certain style, and each actor brings a distinct look and attitude to Bruce Wayne/Batman. Spiderman went through 3 iterations already starting with Sam Raimi, Marc Webb, and Jon Watts. Like the Batman films, each director brought their own style, and each actor brought a distinctive personality to Peter Parker.

In addition to all the comics and animated shows on these characters, it seems redundant to retell their origin story again and again. Irregardless of the redundancies, perhaps the bottom line is to reboot the franchise for future sequels. It’s as if the storyline cannot move forward until a new cast and team of filmmakers have started at square 1. If a new cast and team of filmmakers came on board–another reboot (square 1 again).

I find them unnecessary, to be honest, since each origin story has already been told. It might look newer and fancier with the newest special effects and CGI, but it’s essentially the same story all over again.

I used to watch movies straight away without regard to reading or watching movie reviews. I made the effort to watch them based on the simple fact of whether the trailer or storyline piqued my interest or if it was made by a filmmaker whose work I liked.

Nowadays with so many series and movies on the market (i.e. on Netflix, Amazon Prime, Apple TV, etc.), I tend to read a lot more reviews to see if I should invest my time watching them given the plethora of options at my disposable.

In the past, I used to read movie reviews by Roger Ebert, who wrote concise and descriptive reviews that were engaging and well written. Whether or not I agreed with his reviews, I found them to be insightful regarding the storyline and the film’s technical merits. But nowadays, I mostly read customer reviewers that are listed on Amazon, iTunes, etc., given how many films and shows are out there.

After reading so many, good and bad, I can get a general sense of what would amount to be an average assessment of a film. There’ll be many fans of the movie who will write nothing but good things, and there are those that loathe it, who write nothing but bad things. Then there are those who are in the middle that list the pros and cons of that film–a more balanced perspective.

But the final assessment is when we actually watch the movie. I find that more often than not, my assessment doesn’t exactly align with what most of the reviewers say, and if it does, it’s for reasons different from what they stated.

In the end, movies are subjective experiences. I don’t think words can 100% capture/summarize what that experience is since movies are visceral experiences (an experience that is the sum total of the film’s editing, acting, lighting, camera angles, etc.).

A review is moreover a reflection of what that experience was for the viewer, not so much an assessment of whether that movie is objectively good or bad. Of course, a survey can be taken with an audience to determine the film’s overall quality (i.e. an 8 out of 10 or something of that sort), but does this necessarily match an individual’s experience of the film? If one were to give a film a 7 out of 10, what’s to say that assessment is incorrect from the average?

The viewers that liked a film saw something in it that others didn’t. Perhaps they appreciated the cinematography more, or the acting more, etc. Those that disliked it might’ve been focusing on the lack of plot, character development, or dialogue instead. Each person emphasizes different aspects in terms of what is good or bad to them. They are in essence assessing the qualities that resonate with them, which in turn, amounts to a positive or negative experience for them.

Aside from plot, acting, cinematography, each person has a preference for genre, whether it be science fiction or drama, etc. They might prefer movies by certain directors, actors, or studios. For example, one person might find a period piece boring but a mystery film intriguing (and vice versa). It’s one of those things where the value is already predetermined by the viewer/audience.

So this brings up the question of why one would ever read a review if the experience is subjective to begin with?

For me, I read movie reviews because I want to see if a film will resonate with me based on what was written about it. This is more like a gauge as to whether I’ll have a similar experience. Of course, I might have the opposite experience after I watch the film.

In the end, we’re all looking for and emphasizing different qualities as to what is good or bad to us. Maybe our goal is to be entertained regardless of how well-written the plot or characters are, or we want to be moved by values that are portrayed in the story. In the end, aren’t we the arbiter for what we seek in entertainment and art? Perhaps it’s just better to watch a film and judge it for ourselves.

Computer animation has clearly dominated the film industry over hand-drawn animation. Even though hand-drawn animations continue to be made in anime and TV shows (i.e. The Simpsons), computer animations have been overwhelming success in comparison. Movies such as How To Train Your Dragon and The Incredibles show how successful they can be.

Ironically, hand-drawn animation was how animated movies began. It could be argued which is better (hand-drawn or computer animation), but there’s no doubt that hand-drawn animations bears more of a human mark. The drawings are imperfect in themselves, such as pencil strokes, and uneven lines across the frame.

In computer animation, even though we know that there is an artist working behind it, we are more or less watching a rendering of their work. The images don’t bear any imperfect lines or pencil strokes. The images are detailed and realistic.

It seems that viewers want to see more realism in movies and animation overall. Just as computer games have improved in terms of graphics, the same could be said of movies. Hand-drawn animations are obviously meant to stylize reality, just like comics and anime. But perhaps there has been a shift away from a stylization of reality and a move toward a realistic representation it.

Why is that? Perhaps our way of seeing, as an audience, has changed overtime. People in the past watched black and white films because that was what was available to them. Then came sound, technicolor, and decades later, digital film.

An evolution could be said of animation. Films were predominately hand-drawn until they CGI came along. After that computer animation burst onto the scene with Toy Story being the first big animated film.

But in each phase, the previous one influenced the that came after it. It’s obvious that the computer animators of today were influenced by the hand-drawn animators of the past. The methodology has changed, but the style and storytelling remains.

And with each new phase of technology, the imperfections are erased, and the films appear closer to reality. It’s as if the world of film (or animation) should be seamless compared to our own. But as this trend continues, do the artists behind the film become mere technicians? Are their voices lost in the pursuit of realism? Will the story get lost as well?

Besides, isn’t realism just one way to tell a story? By this, I don’t mean to say that the film must be grounded in reality, but that the depiction of that world is no longer expressing the distinct eye of the filmmaker. Perhaps we’ve veered away from what was considered the auteur idea of filmmaking, and seek a rather generalized type of film.

And with regard to animation, we’ve veered away from imperfection of the hand-drawn to the perfection of computer renderings.

There are many black and white films that are considered classics such as Citizen Kane and Seven Samurai. Even though they were made at a time when black and white films were the standard, these films still entertain and influence us today.

Nowadays, filmmakers have more tools at their disposal. Many color films, especially digital films, employ CGI and post-production tools to improve the quality of the movie. But the one aspect that many of movies suffer from is flashy/rapid editing, which has unfortunately, become common place.

When the shots are edited (strung together) rapidly, the images blur, and the shots become ubiquitous. Although the purpose of the fast edit is to grab our attention, it comes at the cost of letting great shots slip away. The images become subliminal and secondary to the editing. And the impact of the quick/flashy editing is an emphasis on spectacle, action, quips, rather than on story and characters.

The black and white films of the past did not suffer from this, fortunately, due to a general slower pace of the films. When watching a great film a black and white film, it’s easy to appreciate the shots, the composition, lighting, framing, etc., because of the slower pace. Like black and white photography, the images are reduced to its bare essentials: positive and negative space–appearing like abstract images.

Color films can be just as powerful as black and white films, even more so. But they require a careful consideration of how the colors are used.

In any film, the costume, lighting, set design, and scenery all play a role in how the story is told. With color films, filmmakers have a whole palette at their disposal, just as a painter does to mix colors and apply them on a canvas. When color is used effectively, it not only draws our eyes to the image, but communicates the story in a way that elevates it.

Both black and white and color films can be powerful and captivating. Their visual impact depends on the imagination and artistry of the filmmakers. The tools they have at their disposal are employed at the service of the story, which must be good on its own.

But rapid editing is the trapping of today’s films, and so long as this is the trend, films will continue to suffer from it. For one, the visuals will blur by. Two, the stories will feel rushed, and we can’t invest in them to the same degree if they had been edited slower. And three, we won’t get to know the characters fully, since the pace leaves them in the dust.

What is it that makes a film a classic after decades has past? What makes a film speak to future generations to come?

Classic films are such because they still resonate with us today. They continue to impact us through us its universal storytelling and values. Despite the decades that have elapsed, they speak to us as if they had been made today.

One of the most famous classic films is A Wonderful Life by Frank Capra. In short, it’s about a man who is about to leap off a bridge after his partner loses his bank’s money. Before he leaps into the icy winter waters, a guardian angel jumps in the first, and the man dives in to save him instead.

Despite its black and white photography, slow-moving pace, lack of CGI and action scenes, it’s a film that speaks to our heart. The story is essentially about how each person has an enormous effect on other people’s lives (i.e. saving their lives or steering them in the right direction), and in spite of the hard times we experience, we will get through them–especially through generosity and kindness.

If a movie studio decided to remake it now, I have no doubt that it would be a great movie, though people would irresistibly compare it to the original. But it wouldn’t be great because it had been updated, but because the story was great to begin with.

Time well tell which films of today will be a classic in ten, twenty, or thirty years. Will it be The Matrix? The Sixth Sense? The recent Star Wars or Marvel films? Or does a film stand a greater chance at being a classic if it wins awards (i.e. the Academy Awards)?

Special effects and great CGI are all things that will be improved upon as time goes by, but a great story that captivates the imagination and the spirit are what I think will set a film apart and make it a classic.

When filmmakers adapt a novel or story for the silver screen, something always gets lost in the translation. For one, films are limited by running time, and two, they’re limited by budget, which in turn, means that their resources and time may never be enough. A scene or a passage in a book might end up costing millions of dollars to film. Even if the story were carried across sequels or a series, scenes might even be cut out because the filmmakers didn’t find them necessary to include.

Books stimulate our imagination to create scenes (for free), and the difficulty of adapting a story into a film are 1) the cost (as aforementioned), and 2) what a vision of the story looks like according to the filmmakers. Of course, we must keep an open mind since it’s impossible to meet everyone’s expectation/vision of a book, but an adaptation can succeed to some degree if it at least captures the essence of the narrative, as well as the meaning behind it.

Filmmakers have to make a choice as to what they film. Adaptations usually end up covering the essential parts, and highlight key moments in the story.

Depending on whether they follow the story closely or not can produce a wide range of results. The movie might be great apart from the book, even if it doesn’t follow it closely. A movie that follows the book closely might feel like something is missing cinematically (i.e. certain scenes might not be suspenseful when they should be). And movies that take too many liberties with the plot might feel like an affront to the source material.

However the film turns out, an adaptation rarely meets the quality of the book. Because in a book, the writing style of the author captivates the reader to see their world through the lens of their words. On screen, that world flashes by and extinguishes after 90 minutes or 2 hours (depending on the length of the film). When reading a book, however, that world might stay in one’s mind for days or weeks, depending on how long it takes them to finish it. And the author’s words created a world that only the mind’s eye can see.

Comparing films from decade to decade, there is a trend where the rapidity of cuts/edits increase overtime. It’s as if a single shot wasn’t even worthy of our gaze, but rather, a glimpse.

The effect of quick edits produces a pace in which the film seems to be speeding by, a pace which is supposed to grab our attention and hold it. But at the cost of keeping our attention, the visuals fly by without giving us a chance to digest them–to sink ourselves into that world. Even though we might get the gist of what’s going on, the quick edits don’t allow us to appreciate the artistry of the image, lighting, cinematography, etc.

There’s a balance that has to be made with regard to holding a shot and cutting to another one. If the edits are too quick, the scene seems like a blur, but when they’re too long, the scene wears out our patience.

As aforementioned, the rapidity of edits has increased overtime (i.e. compare the films of the 1990s to now). The bombardment of noise in conjunction with the edits just overwhelms the senses, making the spectacle outweigh the story or the emotion of the scene. I’ve noticed this more and more with action films or big budget films, where so much is going on that it’s hard to process the chaos. It’s barely coherent, though the rush of the chaos might be exciting in itself.

But amidst the chaos and mayhem, I find it’s hard to appreciate the filmmaking and artistry of the film itself. The scenes just become noise and rollercoaster rides (perhaps that’s the intention) rather that allowing us to take in what’s happening or appreciate the work that went into it (that’s often relegated to the behind the scenes featurettes on Blu-Ray or DVDs).

Filmmakers stand out not only because of the great stories they tell, but because of how they tell them. A film is essentially a series of shots. Each shot is a frame that can be broken down into composition and lighting and staging, not to mention set design, costuming, acting, etc. All of these components embody the shot–and when it’s cut short by an edit–even for less than a second, it’s as if it weren’t worthy of our attention. What was the point of the shot then?

I’m fascinated by movie sequels for several reasons. There existence at times seem unnecessary, trivial, yet at other times, they combine to create a cohesive narrative.

One question I ask myself is why they’re made in the first place?

Is it because a singular movie wouldn’t be long enough to cover the story? Or is the sequel more of an after thought, whether it was made because of the first film’s success, or because of audience demand?

The sequels I enjoy the most are when they are self-contained films (i.e. The Star Wars series and The Hobbit films), where they could exist on their own with or without a sequel. But when a movie ends inconclusively, almost abruptly, then it feels as if the movie is incomplete.

I think the same is true for books. No matter how good a book is, if it doesn’t have an ending but ends abruptly, it’s as the author didn’t finish the book.

But I digress.

My focus on the topic is what justifies a sequel. Is the purpose simply profit? In that case, might the sequel be the same as the first movie, but with better special effects, CGI, etc.? Is the sequel showing us something new? Is it advancing the story, leading us to the overarching conclusion?

I think the problem that a series can fall into is using the same formula again and again. Is the sequel merely a stage for new action scenes? Is the outcome always the same?

Good stories surprise us, and go beyond what’s formulaic and predictable. Sequels tend to fall in the trap of rehashing the same formula again, giving us the same movie but with a new cast or with new scenery. But if sequel can stand on its own, then it does two things: it advances the overarching narrative, and shows us something new.