The Korean Film Industry

Political machinations, war, separation, and foreign censorship are just some of the startling depravations the Korean film industry has struggled with throughout its century long existence. But, despite these struggles, despite balancing on the brink of complete decimation on multiple occasions, Korean film has repeatedly risen from the ashes again and again. Just in the last decade the South Korean film industry has once again risen from near obscurity to become a stable contributor to the economy as well as quickly becoming a contender on an international basis (North Korea is at present still struggling with the harsh censorship of its current totalitarian government model to succeed in this area, although it still maintains an impressive industry on a domestic level). With films like The Host (2006) and Join Security Area (2003), as well as more recent others, South Korean filmmakers are quickly being recognized for their exploits, both critically and financially, several films being well received at the Academy Awards as well as Cannes, and many others being bought by Hollywood producers to be remade in America.
The Korean film industry, as mentioned above, possesses a harsh history. While Korea had been introduced to film as early as 1897, the first true theater and by extrapolation the roots of the industry itself, was not introduced until 1907. Films shown at that point were all European and American imports; the most well received filmmakers being D. W. Griffith and Fritz Lang. Twelve years later a theater owner by the name of Park Sung-Pil set into motion the country’s film industry by financing several different documentaries as well as a series of “films” called kino dramas, which were basically just theatrical productions with film serving as the stage backdrop. Soon after however, Korea gave birth to its first feature film.
The year in which this film was released is still contested; some claiming Chunhyang-Jeon (1922) to be the first, but others claiming it was Ulha ui Mengse (1923). Regardless of the title, the film inspired a fledgling film industry, albeit one primarily controlled by the Japanese. In 1926 Na Woon-Gyu created the film Arirang, a masterpiece of classic Korean Cinema. With the film’s release, the Golden Era of Silent Films began, and both the quality and quantity of films released in Korea dramatically increased in the years that followed. However, this spark was soon extinguished due to a sudden increase in censorship by the occupying Japanese. Many of Korea’s filmmakers fled to Shanghai in pursuit of artistic freedom. This all but killed the fledgling industry and over the next five years only about twelve films were released.
Luckily, in 1935 Lee Myeong-Woo released Korea’s first film with sound. This new novelty briefly brought life back into the industry and the number of films produced began to increase again. Unfortunately, as the Second World War broke loose, the local Japanese government increased its strict censorship of the industry. European and American films were slowly weeded out and by 1938 the entire Korean film industry was completely controlled by the Japanese. By 1942 Korean films themselves were banned, and the industry became a simple extension of Japan’s propaganda movement.
By 1945 the war had ended and Korea gained its independence. With this independence, the Korean film industry was reborn. Liberty and freedom became major thematic elements within Korean film, and the industry once again began to prosper. However, as in the past, this new found success was short lived, and with the outbreak of civil war in 1950, the Korean film industry once again lapsed into a near comatose state, and the number of films produced on a yearly basis sunk to new depths.
At the conclusion of the war, the industry was split, Korea sliced into two separate nations. And while the North Korean film industry lapsed into a cyclic and continuously faltering domestic industry, South Korea continued the Korean film industry’s legacy of brilliant rebirth out of the midst of destruction, ushering in the Golden Age of Korean film.
Recognizing the power inherent to film, Syngman Rhee, the first president of South Korea, exempted the industry from taxation, hoping to revitalize production of the medium. He succeeded. By 1959 over 100 films were being produced in South Korea every year. During this era legendary films such as Lee Kyu-Hwan’s Chunhyan-Jon (1955), Kim Ki-Young’s Yang san Province (1955), and Lee Byeong-Il’s Sijib ganeun nal (The Wedding Day, 1956), were produced by a studio system beginning to mirror many other prominent countries leading in the film industry. This boon dramatically increased the quality of films as well as the quantity, The Wedding Day among others receiving international recognition.
Kim Ki-Young’s The Housemaid (1960) and Yu Hyun-Mok’s Aimless Bullet (1960), both historic landmarks in the film history of South Korea, marked an end to this era, the government once again increasing its control of the industry to suffocating levels. Rhee’s successor, Park Chung Hee, not understanding the nature of the medium passed the Motion Picture law of 1963, placing increasingly strict measures upon the industry. In just one year the number of production companies in South Korea fell from 71 to 16. Luckily, there was enough of a loyal audience from the past five years that filmmakers were able to overcome these policies and produce many more quality films over the next decade or so, even establishing the Grand Bell Awards, a sort of South Korean equivalent to the Academy Awards found in the United States. Eventually however, the stranglehold of the government took its toll.
In 1973 Hee began forcing filmmakers to include government propaganda within their films. According to the International Film Guide published at the time, “No country has a stricter code of film censorship than South Korea – with the possible exception of the North Koreans and some other Communist countries.” Government control had reached an all time high, and the South Korean film industry had reached an all time low. A few of the more talented film makers such as Im Kwon-Taek and Kim Ki-Young were able to surpass such obstacles, but for the most part film became a comatose art within the South Korean borders. It was not until the death of Hee in 1979 that the industry began its familiar ascension back towards prosperity.
In 1981 Im Kwon-Taek’s film Mandala won the Grand Prix at the Hawaii Film Festival, reintroducing South Korean film to the international level and setting the stage for South Korean filmmakers in the future. President Roh Tae Woo drove South Korea towards an exceedingly democratic state, freeing the South Korean industry to once again prosper. For the next fifteen years or so the film industry gradually built itself back up to its former success. By 1997 it had far exceeded even that.
In the early millennium South Korea became one of the few countries in the world that possessed a film industry domestically superior to that of Hollywood. Joint Security Area (2000) was a huge success, surpassing even such blockbusters as Titanic, The Matrix, and Star Wars with nearly six million domestic viewers. In 2001, My Sassy Girl was able to displace both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter in the box office with nearly five million admissions. By 2004 this phenomena became commonplace, films like Silmido and Taegukgi garnering over eleven million viewers each. In 2006 Bong Joon-Ho broke all previous records with his film The Host, maxing out at a stunning thirteen million admissions, nearly a third of South Korea’s population.
Naturally, Hollywood has been quick to capitalize (leech) on South Korea’s success. Every major American studio is rushing to buy up the rights to any moderately successful South Korean film, a number quickly climbing as the years go on. Shiri, Joint Security Area, My Wife is a Gangster, Il Mare, Oldboy, My Sassy Girl, The Host, A Tale of Two Sisters, are just some of the films bought by Hollywood to be remade in America. But even without being remade, South Korean film still possesses a broad international appeal. In 1997 the South Korea film industry made $492,000 in exports. By 2004 it was making $63,000,000 and continuing to grow on an exponential scale.
Of these successes, Joint Security Area and The Host are two of the more widely known within the United States. Both were monumental exploits within South Korea, and both have been bought by Hollywood with remakes in mind. With a more in depth analysis of these films, one can begin to interpret the underpinnings of their individual appeal, as well as the foundation behind the South Korean film industry’s astounding success.
The first, Joint Security Area, or more commonly, JSA, is a film describing the political, cultural, and emotional situations generated by having an entire country split in two. The titular area is the central setting of the film, documenting the interactions between four military officers from either side of the border and the results of such a relationship. The film begins in media res, one of the South Korean officers running wounded from the North Korean side and from the murdered North Korean officers discovered there. An investigation is begun by Major Sophie E. Jang on behalf of the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission in order to prevent the split nations from returning to war.
Beginning her investigation with two separate accounts from either side, Major Jang soon discovers neither can be correct based on her own discoveries. Reaching this conclusion, the film devolves into a series of flashbacks, slowly revealing the truth to its audience. The events leading up to the victims’ death is neither a kidnapping nor a murderous rampage. As the flashbacks reveal the pair of North Korean guards and South Korean guards had actually formed a fragile friendship, discovering that the prejudice fostered by both their mother countries actually holds no real basis.
The film goes on to detail the building of this friendship, at the same time detailing the ongoing investigation involving the two surviving officers, one from South Korea the other from the North. Major Jong eventually discovers the truth behind the deaths, a complex event ending in simple tragedy. As the storylines flow together into the present, the film comes to a close, everything coming together in one last representation of the film’s themes: honor, sacrifice, and unnecessary grief.
The film is extremely cool and crisp in regards to filming style. The characters’ emotions are very restrained, the director using this restraint to further intensify the brief moments when character emotion is seen. On top of this the colors throughout the film are muted, used to exemplify the outward presence of the military as well as the sterilized feelings either country must possess towards the situation. Despite this measure of temperance within the mise en scene, many of the cuts and shots within the film possess elements of certain Hollywood styles, which seem out of place when in conjunction with the cool crisp design of the film, but appeal to an American audience. Still, Chan Wook easily redeems himself, for there are many significantly unique shots within the film that truly add feeling to the various scenes. Chan Wook certainly is not a hack by any means.
Combining the two aspects of story and style, it is easy to see why the film has garnered so much success, both domestically and within the United States. Being a culture split in two, the Korean people would naturally feel an affinity to a film where that split is the subject of the story. In Joint Security Area, the audience, even those who might not be ones thinking of such things on a constant basis, are given a unilateral perspective to the damages such a cultural chasm creates. Even those far removed from the border, those who remove themselves mentally from the entire situation, are, through the film’s multiple messages, brought to a level of catharsis akin to those who have experienced the current cultural repercussions first hand.
The film attempts to show an equality of the people on either side of the border, to show the exaggerations of either side regarding the degeneracy of the other, and to prove the slim presence of hope for the future relations between the two countries. However, despite these messages of reconciliation, Chan Wook does not forget his audience, and the presentation of the South Korean system of government as superior is not neglected. No matter the messages the film displays in the equality of culture and personage, the many benefits of the South Korean democracy is an ever present undercurrent within the film. In addition to the baser elements of the story, the themes its presents and the de facto light it shines on the Korean people provide additional appeal. Within the story individual honor takes priority over personal needs and desires, sacrifice of self a prime component. These ideals are culturally close to the heart of the Korean people as a whole and as such the film resonates with them on an even deeper level.
As mentioned, much of the way the film was made grants appeal to a wider international audience, many of the stylistic elements mirroring Hollywood’s typical fare. Many of the cuts within the film (wipes, page turns, ect.) are normally associated with many films of the fantasy genre produced within Hollywood. Such cuts would not normally warrant inclusion in a film more serious in nature, but within JSA, it creates a kindrence of sorts with the international audience. The familiarity fostered with the recognition of elements seen more exclusively within the mainstream film pool fosters a better relationship with the film itself.
The “gimmick” shots (shots filmed in a way that do not really add anything to the story or individual scenes but at times produce an “ooh aah” response) used within the film can also be tagged with fostering relative familiarity with the mainstream. The gimmick is something nearly exclusively Hollywood, the need for empty flash bang essentially summing up their perspective of the industry. However, it does appeal to the lowest common denominator, and that dominator is responsible for the bulk of sales. Thankfully Chan Wook does not rely wholly on these gimmicks as substitute for actual film, and in later productions, he removes them entirely.
The Host, directed by up and coming filmmaker Bong Joon-Ho, surpasses the success of JSA on a maelstrom level. The highest grossing South Korean film of all time, The Host was not only a financial success, but garnered an equally successful critical reception across the globe. Again the film possesses a unique elemental combination of story and style that produces such a broad appeal. Albeit in this case, said appeal reached an all new high for the country.
The film begins with the origin of the titular creature, a combination of laziness and carelessness, resulting in a slight toxic waste situation. The film then begins the focus on the main protagonists, a small family consisting of three different generations: a man, his son, and his granddaughter. The oldest owns a small snack shop next to the river, which he runs with the rest of the family’s help. As the creature makes its first appearance, their lives are thrown into disarray. In the creature’s attack it is believed that the granddaughter character has been eaten, transitioning to a funeral scene where the rest of the family is introduced, namely, the other two children of the old man.
Rushed to a hospital due to risk of “infection” due to contact with the creature, the girl calls her father revealing her present state of affairs. The father reveals this to the rest of the family who, unbelieving at first are soon persuaded to join in on a rescue mission at the bequest of their father. This begins the search process that takes up the bulk of the film involving organized crime, the military, foreign media, biological control companies, and fortune seekers. The old man is eventually knocked off in a three way battle between family, military, and creature. A deeper character study of each of his children takes place interjected every now and then with a visual update on the happenings of the granddaughter. The battle separates the man’s three children as well, giving greater weight to each of their own personal journeys. As the film closes all four protagonists are brought back together for one final duel with the creature that has caused them such pain, ultimately ending in no small amount of personal growth for each of the characters and the standard near tragic event of reconciliation.
With this example there is a greater embracing of international idioms evident in the filming as well the story. The film still relies on the themes most respondent to its native nation (although different ones than those found in JSA), where, like the last, is inherent to the story. But, the efforts of the director evident in The Host cater to the tastes of its international audience without alienating the more qualitative tastes of its domestic populace. Instead of drawing inspiration from the baser aspects of American film, Joon-Ho borrows elements of a higher nature, merging them with those of his own heritage, and creating something wholly unique, more successfully balancing the cinematic palates of both worlds.
The themes of The Host hold a slightly more universal appeal, but the treatment specifically given to the family theme within the story is more indicative to the Korean culture. The generational issues found in the film have less to deal with the rebellion and control struggle in most American films, instead focusing on aspects of security and leadership, and the difficulties inherent to both in a time of crisis. As in the last example, the film also puts South Korea in a good light. This is especially seen in the beginning of the film, where it is the lazy, careless, and belligerent American scientist forcing the unwilling South Korean assistance to dispose of the toxic waste materials in an unsafe manner. This, along with the inclusion of additional sub text of the same vein, has actually raised inquiries regarding a hidden anti-American message within the film, inquiries Joon-Ho has determinedly discredited. The film does not single America out, and there are many more instances of political satire directed at the South Korean government than there are regarding various negative aspects of American culture. It is this undercurrent of satire in fact, which gives the film some of its greatest appeal, South Korean audiences showing always showing a good response to such inclusions.
Looking at the film’s international appeal, again the style of presentation is the primary contributor. As mentioned above, South Korean filmmakers seem to be mirroring many mainstream American film techniques, which, while grabbing the attention of domestic audiences, is also providing a firmer foothold in the international industry. While much of the film still possesses a more muted and gritty feel to it, much brighter colors are used throughout the film. A broader range of emotions are shown by the actors, even to an exaggerated level at times. The film possesses a pacing more in line with standard American films, and, although in no way disturbing the wholly Korean feel of the film, there is still quite a bit of American culture present throughout.
Ultimately, it is this combination of film culture that has so empowered the South Korean film industry’s domestic market, while at the same time seducing easily the most powerful player in the international market. With its focus on quality and with the present governmental support South Korean film continues to soar. Despite its longsuffering history and the continuous cycle of destruction and rebirth, it is evident that South Korea means to break that cycle. This time, they are here to stay. And, with its current nosedive in quality work and possible financial pitfalls, Hollywood better watch its back. This little dragon is climbing fast.

Genre Studies: Science Fiction

Science Fiction is another of today’s most recognizable genres. While its “Golden Age” has perhaps past, the genre no longer being quite the studio power horse it was in yesterdays, it still manages to be one of the largest genres within the medium. It is an ancient facet of film, tracing its roots all the way to the beginning of the art, and has consistently supplied viewers with an interesting taking on a variety of our worlds innermost difficulties, while providing filmmakers ample atmosphere in which to apply their skill.
As mentioned above, the genre can trace its roots to the very beginning of cinema. The early film A Trip to the Moon (1902) was one of such films, the plot revolving around the construction of a rocket, the journey through space, and the interaction with and escape from the moon’s imagined inhabitants. While this film was responsible for the beginning exploration of the genre, it was not really confirmed as such until after World War I. It was at this time, with such amazing advances in technology and weaponry that the true themes of science fiction in film really came into being. Films such as The Lost World (1925) and Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) are considered the more stable roots of the genre, the films establishing progress into the scientific discovery and futuristic exploration aspects of the genre respectively.
In the 1930’s we begin to see an interesting turn in the genre. With such films as Doctor X (1932), The Invisible Ray (1936), and Dr. Cyclops (1940) entering into the mainstream, aspects of the horror genre are subtlety entwined amidst the fledgling realm of science fiction. The films primarily revolved similar plot contrivances in which some scientist or another created, by accident or on purpose, some sort of monstrosity, either within themselves or by some other means, to which resulted in antagonistic actions against the general populace or some personal tragedy to their own person. This vein continued until its brief faltering in the 40’s, but has since evolved, and continued to appear throughout the years within the science fiction genre with films such as The Thing From Another World (1951), The Fly (1951, as well as its 1986 remake of the same name), and It! The Terror From Beyond Space (1958). This eventually resulted in a complete crossover, creating horror films with science fiction aspects such as Alien (1979) and The Thing (1982, a remake of the original The Thing From Another World mentioned previously).
Additionally, with the popularity of serials during the 1930’s, we see another blending in the science fiction genre, this time with the action genre, its roots inherent to these early low budget serials. Flash Gordon, and his knock off, Buck Rogers, both came into relatively gripping popularity at the time. The series’ Flash Gordon: Space Soldiers (1936), Flash Gordon's Trip to Mars (1938), and Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe (1940), as well as some others featuring Buck Rogers or simple alien invader stories, are some examples of such serials. Much like the horror elements within the science fiction genre mentioned earlier, the presence of action elements within the genre eventually resulted in a complete crossover into science fiction labeled action flicks during the 1980’s. These serials continued with moderate success up until the early 1950’s, giving way to the “Golden Age” of science fiction, where most of the genre’s conventions solidified.
These conventions are perhaps the most inherently confusing of the genres when set against such, mainly due to their easy transference into other genres, which also explains why the science fiction genre is also most susceptible to cross breeding with the other genres, as we saw in previous sections. A vital inclusion of science and technology is essentially the primary convention of the science fiction genre, usually taking form in one of three ways, namely: scientific discovery, alien invasion, or futuristic interpretation most often dystopian in nature. The confusion in categorizing a film into the science fiction genre is directly tied to this baseline convention. Glorifying crime, frightening the audience, creating high octane action sequences, or pursuing adventure can all easily exploit a focus on science and technology as an excellent backdrop or accompaniment in the execution of their exposition, whether it be in the vein of scientific discovery, alien invasion, or futuristic interpretation, without such being truly vital to the actual story.
In science fiction on the other hand, in true science fiction, science and technology are undeniably inherent to the story itself, so much so that if removed would result in a collapse of that story. One of the most used examples would be Star Wars (1977), classified as a science fiction fantasy film. The science fiction coming before fantasy in the description, signifying it as a label, opposed to fantasy, written after science fiction, signifying the genre. This is due to the conventions within the film. The archetypes and plot exposition are most often seen in fantasy films, while the technology, aliens, ect., are merely the setting for the adventure. And, most will agree with this classification. However, there are many other films that are often wrongly categorized as science fiction, that do not truly uphold the genre’s baseline convention.
For example Signs (2002), and Alien (1979), are both films that use science fiction elements, but are ultimately horror films in nature. Signs uses an alien invasion as a plot device. It’s not inherent to the actual film. In Alien, if you take out the spaceship and replace the alien with some other monster, you would have, essentially, the same film, albeit with a significantly different feel. The television show Firefly (2002) also uses this technique. It is of the western genre, but uses elements of science fiction (futuristic interpretation) to achieve a much different feel than most westerns. These labels and categorizations, however, are not absolute, as the previous example alludes to. The series’ finale, the film Serenity (2005), transitions the series into pure science fiction, the focus suddenly becoming the character Rain, a sort of super soldier sleeper agent, created by the government in the film. The film is science fiction because of this focus. Without Rain, a technological marvel, the film would collapse.
In addition to its baseline convention, the science fiction genre possesses several others used much of the time in films of the type. First, with the vital focus on science inherent to science fiction, we usually see a much greater character focus on doctors and scientists within films of the genre. Advanced technology, of the like we have never seen, is also a significant convention of science fiction, most often seen in the futuristic interpretation vein, but also seen quite often in the discovery vein. In the alien invasion scenario, the advanced technology of the invaders will also be significant within the film. Additionally, there will also be a large focus on the technology we have now, and how it relates, or can be used against, the technology of the invaders.
In addition to the focus on technology, science fiction films are most often extremely pointed. The most grounded of the more “fictional” genres, science fiction films will usually have a subtle or even blatant message regarding various topics, usually regarding technological advancement, nuclear warfare, big government, the environment, as well as many others. These films are often quite violent as well. While certainly not quite of the same caliber seen in the horror or action genres, due to the story of most science fiction films, revolving around the conflict of rebellion against society, human against alien, or creator against creation, violence usually becomes a significant part of the film. Fantastic sets or exotic landscapes are also a large part of science fiction. This is most often inherent to the futuristic interpretation set up, but is also seen in scientific discovery films (Jurassic Park, 1993). Naturally, with such elaborate conventions, special effects are very much a part of the science fiction genre, perhaps even more inherent than their inclusion in other genres. Finally, much like the horror genre, a large number of science fiction films will possess an ambiguous ending.
Looking back to the 1950’s, we see, as mentioned previously, the solidification of many of these conventions. Decried as the “Golden Age” of science fiction, it is easy to see why, the country, at the time, possessing a fascinating obsession with scientific advancement in conjunction with the Cold War. The film Invaders from Mars (1953) is one of the films created during this era. Within it, we can note many of the genres early conventions, as well as the early progression of many others. The film, about a young boy and alien baddies, is, as one would expect, extremely special effects oriented. And, while laughable now, still convey, to a point, the overall effect of an alien invasion. The focus is very much technology oriented. We see the afore mentioned focus on both doctors and scientists as main characters, the invaders’ technology, and the current technology of the period, which, in the film, is used to combat the invaders.
Towards the end of the film, events transpire that leave the audience with two different trains of thought. The ending leaves to open interpretation whether or not events prior actually happened. That these events might have been just a simple nightmare, yet retaining the possibility that they were not, gives the entire film a heightened sense of ambiguity. Additionally, there is a good amount of on screen violence within the film; nothing at all by today’s standards, but for the time would have been on the edge of controversy. This, however, is soothed by the copious amount of support given to the meta-narrative, for the film exemplifies the culture of the time period.
The film begins with an off screen narrator, much like Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) used in previous studies, for the same reasons therein mentioned. The film revolves around a perfectly happy family, with no portrayal of anything but the most steadfast devotion to one another. The child gives no sense of rebellion, remaining in an entirely obedient posture. His parents, the first to be captured by the aliens, actually sleep in separate beds. Invaders is also an extremely patriotic piece, possessed of multiple scenes in which nothing is shown except the grand United States military, blowing things up in a completely ineffectual nature, all to a tune straight from a drafting commercial. In the film the military is the absolute authority, and is portrayed in amiable manner. Additionally, the nod to God as the higher power in the universe is included as well. Most of this drivel however, is far removed within the next couple decades.
Brazil (1985) expands upon many of the conventions seen in Invaders, but does so in a thoroughly post-modern manner, while presenting subtle progression within the genre itself. At first glance one might assume Brazil to one of the many films misconceived as true science fiction, noting the many comedic elements within the film. However, if one looks closely at the dynamics of the film, this assumption will prove false. In the film, Gilliam is not making jokes about technology or the conventions of science fiction. Rather, he is using technology to poke at society, nor do these pokes make up the bulk of the film. Therein lies the difference. The film would not collapse without comedy. It would, however, collapse without the technology and futuristic interpretation that in essence is the film.
The film is dystopian in nature, which perhaps is the most significant shift within the genre since the 1950’s. It is not about the embracement of technology, or the successful embracement, rather, focuses on the negative aspects of such focus. Within the film we see the same fantastic sets and locations, this time with addition of vivid dreamscapes as well, something more inherent to the dystopian aspect of the genre. We see a much greater reliance on technology in Brazil, not as accompaniment to society as more commonly portrayed in earlier genre entries, but almost as having become society itself. With this we see an excessive exacerbation of the problems inherent to this technological reliance, which is where most of the comedic elements stem from.
However, these elements are toned down by the depressing view of technology the film provides. The technological reliance, while comically lighthearted at times, is, in the end, portrayed in a much more somber tone, belying a tragic message. Extrapolating upon this, we see the character’s ultimate rejection of society as a whole. This is a significantly different stance than what would have been acceptable in the 1950’s, and from which we can see another shift within the genre, a much greater amount of dystopian films being released in recent years, while the more discovery oriented films wane (those of the invader vein pretty much remaining stationary). The theme of the film is to escape from and rebel against society, rather than exploring or saving it. We also see a more existentialist focus, the main more often being thrust about by fate than by his own decisions, where as in Invaders the film was moved along primarily by the actions taken by the main characters.
Despite these significant shifts within the genre, it in itself remains one of the larger, more popular genres, ultimately remaining true to its primary conventions. And, with the recent release of Avatar (2009), proving that the general public has not forgotten the love given to the genre, it is certain we shall see additional science fiction films in the future. Whether the poisonous 3-D craze will overshadow this certainty… one can only hope for the best. But, with a genre as sustainable and rife with breedability as this, the future can only be one of smiles.

Genre Studies: Crime

In any society of moderate civilization, there will always be those who seek to undermine that same society, to twist it in order to reach their own goals. However, these criminals, and the crimes that they commit, are simply a part of such societies, and while they cannot be tolerated, their existence must be accepted. Film, as one of the most culturally imbedded mediums of artistic depiction, naturally has a nook for such specimens of the world’s underbelly. The crime genre, while perhaps not as mainstream as others, has certainly endured some unique stages of cultural shifting, and today, still remains quite viable.
The first filmmaker to begin forming crime into a genre was D. W. Griffith, with his film The Musketeers of Pig Alley (1912). And while this perhaps this film in particular was not the very first film with crime as a main theme, it was the first film to actually leave an impact in its wake, inspiring many other directors to explore the theme. Some noteworthy examples include such films as The Regeneration (1915), Underworld (1927, which actually won the first Oscar for original screenplay), and The Racket (1928), all films taking a slightly different stance then Pig Alley, but still building upon the same conventions.
In the 1930’s the genre came into popular acceptance with the prominent success of several crime films. Little Caesar (1930), The Public Enemy (1931), and Scarface: The Shame of a Nation (1932), all possessing gangsters as the primary protagonists, secured crime as a definite genre and began the American mythology surrounding the underworld. However, the genre soon took an interesting turn as the Hay’s Code took hold of the film industry due to the studio’s fear of government control. Fear, as history has so often showed us, is usually accompanied by unwarranted censorship, which in this case was the heart of the issue. Criminals could no longer have the glorified on screen presence they previously possessed, no matter how dramatically their sins caught up with them in the end. But, as always, art endures, and, instead of spelling out the end of the crime genre, filmmakers simply created loop holes. In this case, film noir was born.
Previously, the genre had several simple conventions. Namely, the film’s focus would (duh) be criminal in nature. The film would usually focus on a group of criminals in general, or a specific killer or gangster (usually drawn from history), the protagonist or protagonists operating outside the law. They would usually be, regardless of infamy, sympathetic characters, as most protagonists are want to be, and the film would usually chronicle both their rise, and inevitable fall. Expansive cities make up most of the mise-en-scene, and both power and material possessions would usually be key to the plot. Additionally, actual upholders of the law, police or government officials were usually viewed with an ineffectual or corrupt perspective.
With the emergence of film noir, many of these conventions, while still being considered a part of the crime genre, were changed. One of the earliest examples of film noir is John Huston’s The Maltese Falcon (1941), a film following the exploits of a private detective Sam Spade in his search for a priceless statuette of a falcon. As this description alludes to, the focus in character is one of the first of these convention shifts. Where we saw actual criminals featured as the protagonists in earlier crime films, the protagonist in Falcon is a private eye, a career we would normally associate with one who upholds the law. But, this is just one of many of the afore mentioned loopholes. While the protagonist is indeed an “upholder” of the law, which satisfies Hays’ censorship code, Spade is seen consistently stretching laws and conventional means of police work, as well as getting involved in or turning a blind eye toward various criminal activities, which satisfies the audience’s appeal in the genre.
Another significant difference is the way the plot proceeds. Whereas most crime films are rather complex in regards to plotting compared to other genres, in film noir these complexities are amped up a few notches due to the mystery solving aspect of the story. Most crime films are pretty straightforward in nature, albeit still rather complex, usually a steady progression to power or material wealth. Or both! In the Falcon however, the plot requires your full attention in order to follow what is happening. And even then, it is still an accomplishment to know what has actually transpired at the end of the film.
Finally, it should be noted as well that the women in film noir are stereotyped slightly different than most other crime films. Here the women, while still usually viewed with whatever perspective happens to be accepted in the current culture (fainting at the site of blood and such), are much more pivotal within the plot. In the Falcon, the female protagonist, while still the love interest, naturally, is a symbol of seduction and treachery, a cultural idiom based in the fear of women outside the home. Additionally, just the fact that there is a female protagonist is a relevant factor. Women mainly placed in support roles within crime films for the most part until the late sixties.
But for all the ways in which film noir briefly changed the conventions of the genre, it still retained enough of them to be a recognizable piece of the genre itself. Returning to the Falcon, we still see money as the primary driving force within the film. While most upholders of the law would be portrayed as valuing the protection of society’s mandates as being payment enough for services rendered, Falcon gives evidence to its genre in the Sam Spade character, who is driven the entire film by simple greed. And while power is not as important to the protagonist in this particular film, he is constantly surrounded by power in its various forms. Although, one could certainly argue that with the obvious control his manipulations give over these other characters, he is actually the most powerful of the bunch and therefore power is just as much a motivation for him as greed.
The setting is Chicago, a major city, which fits in with the conventional mise-en-scene. In addition to this we also see a lot of violence within the film, although, once again due to the Hay’s code, it is certainly not as graphic as other films in the genre. The film is rife with, for the most part, completely ineffectual upholders of the law, Spade consistently out witting them at every available opportunity. And betrayal, a motif seen in most crime films that I did not mention with the other conventions, is a large part of the film as well.
Now, jumping forward, we come to the apex of the crime genre, incarnated in Francis Ford Coppola’s film, The Godfather (1972) some ten fifteen years or so after the end of the noir era. Here we see the crime genre as it was meant to be, before the influence of the Hay’s code. Material wealth and power are still the primary driving force behind the character’s motives, although we see two noticeable differences. First, in comparison to the film noir aspect, gains are seen by standard operating outside of the law method we saw originally. Besides this however, family has become another character motivation. The safety of family members, revenge for those that might have fallen, or simple pride in a family name or people have become equal character motives to the more simplistic money and power motives previously used. This is especially seen in the Godfather, the Corleone family and its machinations the entire subject of the film.
The focus has shifted back to gangsters, instead of the private eye focus of film noir. We once again see the celebration of crime within the film, although the standard rise and fall of the primary protagonist is much more subdued. In the Godfather, we actually see this change taking place as an internal progression, Al Pacino’s character within the film slowly losing his innocence and naiveté as he becomes more and more involved in the “family business.” In conjunction with this shift, we also see much less of the mystery elements seen in the noir films of the past. Violence is still a major part of the film, in this case though much more graphic due to the MPAA taking form as the new incarnation of the Hay’s code. Upholders of the law are also still seen as ineffectual in nature as well, although the focus has shifted more towards corruption rather than incompetence, is more political rather than law enforcement based. Additionally, the focus on women changed, the Godfather’s script pushing women back into support roles.
The mise-en-scene still possess a city setting, this film taking part in New York city instead of Chicago, but is actually much brighter in nature, and not just because it is in color. While the Falcon was made in the modern era, the Godfather was created in the postmodern era, and there are several small shifts marking that particular evolutionary step within the genre. As mentioned the lighting is much brighter in the Godfather, the sets much more colorful. This stems not only from the general glorification of these sympathetic criminals that our culture’s mythology provides for, but also signals the switch from the more dreary worn out perspective of crime seen in the modern era in contrast to the more colorful, exciting perspective of today. This artistic shift can also be seen in the minor changes in the plotting of either film. In the Falcon we see the protagonist’s more moral actions take place despite less than moral motives, resulting in a static ending. In the end of the film no lasting change has taken place, giving a hopeless feeling to the film, indicative a modern perspective. In the Godfather, we see extremely immoral actions take place, despite moral intentions, the characters’ sense of “justice” for example, but which result in actual change taking place. Whether for better or worse, we witness actual change taking place within the characters, as well as the ending situation compared to that of the beginning of the film, which is indicative of the new post modern era.
Today, the crime genre still remains a vital aspect of the art. Both the mystery branch stemming from the noir period and the original vision of the gangster focus still thriving within the industry. And, in more recent times, the caper branch, its actual roots tracing back to the fledgling years of film noir, has become, perhaps the most popular branch of the genre with today’s audience. Still, experiments are still being made, and with the ingenuity and drive of the indie class and the vivid exploitation of the studios, it is only a matter of time before a new branch emerges. We can only look forward.

Genre Studies: Horror

Of the various genres, horror is perhaps the most ambivalent. One of the oldest genres of the art form, its conventions, riddled in cliché, can be spotted by even the most generic of movie goers, yet it remains as one of the most sustainable powerhouses the studio industry has left. It possesses one of the most unique followings, a cadre of misunderstandings attached to its popularity, and, over the decades, a veritable rollercoaster ride in regards to quality and originality. However, despite its notoriety, the horror genre is ultimately a representation of our fears and failures, and as such, will always remain as a vital representation of our society, and the nature of our humanity.
As one of the earliest film genres, horror can trace its roots back to the early French film Le Manoir Du Diable or The Devil’s Castle, a short two minute film from 1896. And while this particular film was certainly the first in the fledgling genre, it was soon trumped by the feature length films produced in the silent era. The Golem (1915), The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919), and Nosferatu (1922), all born of German expressionism, became the true roots of the horror genre. These films, due to their much greater sphere of influence, appeal, and impact, are today considered the forefathers of the horror genre. Their more formal length giving greater room for exploration into new territory, and providing the foundation needed for actual solidification of the genre itself.
Now, the period in which a genre is officially recognized as such is a rather fluid stone to set, but in the early 1930’s, what with the American studios’ sudden recognition of the appeal such films had, the exploitation of this fact soon warranted its definite authenticity. It is within the 1930’s that one sees the emergence of many iconic characters in the horror genre. Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy, and the list goes on, the characters, most drawn from mainstream literature, providing a safe basis for the genre to continue to flourish, while allowing for new interpretations to take place and original ideas to be introduced. And, with the excellent reception these films received, the genre was successfully stabilized in its conventions.
Large portions of the population relish an adrenaline rush. And horror, at its most basic level, is meant to produce fear, the very definition of the word giving weight to the statement. Therefore, branching from this fact, many of the genre’s conventions spring forth. Reflecting the genre’s primary goal, to scare, the mise-en-scene of a horror film will usually be somewhat eerie or creepy in nature. This sets the stage for the rest of the film, creating a sense of unease in the viewer. As such, most horror films will be set in some sort of foreboding atmosphere. Disturbing weather, copious night shots, unsettling sounds in the distance, old or foreign places; these are all elements of mise-en-scene that a talented director will bring to life in order to make the audience more susceptible to the various scare tactics the story will provide.
Additionally, due to their nature, horror films have always offered a slightly more visceral experience than most other films provide, although the intensity certainly varies depending on the period of their creation. This is most commonly seen in how inherent death is to the genre, but is also seen in the tension between the characters. Watching the interactions between the victims in the film as they handle whatever is plaguing them, watching them crack so to speak, serves to further put the audience on edge, as they slowly recognize that the horror does not always come from the outside. However, as the genre has progressed, or, as society has become increasingly numb, this intensity has come to include both language and sex as well, which is responsible for much of the genre’s infamy. Blatant attempts to jolt the audience are common as well. The typified “just a cat” taking the form of sudden bursts of diegetic sound, appearance of hidden animals, shadow movement, or other such contrivances, all traditional scare tactics.
Finally, the villain, or the source of the horror, also possesses certain conventions as well. First, going back to mise-en-scene, the appearance or characteristics of the villain rarely leave any doubt to their purpose in the story. From red eyes and coarse fur to prison garb and a vicious smile, the picturesque elements of evil possessed by the villain are usually rather blunt. Secondly, the villain has to be somewhat unstoppable. Fear is most often rooted in helplessness, and a villain that can easily gobble up platoons of marines or possesses some sort of otherworldly power, creates that sense within the audiences. Lastly, a horror film will most often end with a moment of uncertainty, a hint that the villain just might not be gone forever. And, while this convention receives a lot of love from the studio execs in the form of multiple sequels, the original intention supports the genre, a final stab at the audience’s psyche. Basically, “the evil was defeated, but don’t get too comfortable.”
These conventions however, while they do validate the genre itself, do not, in this case, fall into the formulaic or stifle the art form too badly. And, being a subject of one of humanity’s most basic emotions, horror has become one of the deeper representations of our culture. Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954), one of Universal’s many monster flicks, is a prime example. From here one can begin to trace the genre’s evolution, tied to the changes in culture and technique. Creature, a relatively simple film, follows the exploits of a team of researchers, and the presence of an undiscovered life form, the titular creature. From the very beginning of the film, in the first few minutes, the culture in which the film was made becomes strikingly clear. First, there is a nod to the Christian faith, giving credit to God for the creation of earth, reflecting the need in the fifties to portray piety, actual belief in irrelevant. At the same time however, the film validates the Theory of Evolution, revealing the culture’s fascination for science, and the interesting hybrid created between faith and science born to this decade. Additionally, this introduction is performed by an off screen narrator, one having no place in the actual story. This practice, while still in mild use today, was common for this era, almost as if the common masses needed things explained to them, leaving no room for individual interpretation. This is once again, a reflection of the culture.
As the film progresses, a rather simple plot unfolds, lacking many of the details and complex character motives seen in many of today’s horror films. As an audience, America seemed to demand less at the time, while today people come to the theater with elevated expectations, regardless of what they will actually accept. In the film, the lead archeologist, without even the smallest montage, stumbles upon the fossil that pushes the plot forward, the man seemingly just picking it up out of the dirt. Bringing it back to the “lab” the rest of the characters are introduced, devoid of the actual complexity inherent to being human, their motives immediately made clear from the get go.
Additionally, the gender roles within the films reflect the culture with uncanny accuracy. While the female lead within the film is part of the work force, she is still portrayed as being dependant on her boyfriend for support and protection. She is seen within the film as being much weaker than the men, and constantly worrying. Within the plot she continuously puts herself in danger, and is the object of interest of all the other men as well as the creature itself. And while the film is an extremely far cry from possessing an actual misogynistic portrayal of the character, she is portrayed strictly within the bounds of the traditional perception of the fifties. The love story between the two mains is also extremely traditional in nature. Their interaction is innocent, subdued, and perfectly happy, the only complication being mild and playful banter regarding when they actually would be married. In today’s eyes, the relationship feels hollow and bland, but to a culture where the outward perception of happiness and perfection are paramount, this would have been acceptable.
As well as looking at the genre’s cultural facets, one must also note the various trifles within the film that map the actual progression of the genre itself. One of the most pointed examples of this is in the manner the director attempts to frighten his audience. Here the focus is almost entirely on the suspense and the actual monster, which was typical for the time. And, while one might normally think the genre has grown out of this completely, (looking at many of today’s mainstream horror films) the genre has actually just branched. While not as popular as the shock type imagery one most commonly sees, there still remains both a monster (special effects focused) and suspense branch within the genre, stemming from these early films.
As far as technical elements, the film has multiple scenes in which a POV shot is used, a trend begun in horror by Rouben Mamoulian in his film, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931), which today is a mainstream component of horror films. Diegetic sound is also used within the film to startle the audience. A convention of horror mentioned previously, although it is certainly a limited amount of use by today’s standards. The mise-en-scene was appropriately creepy, but much lighter than a modern audience is used to. The score is blunt, but recognizably appropriate for the genre. But, in addition to these technical notes, the way the film plays out also presents many aspects that have imbedded themselves within the genre.
For example, the minorities in the film (Brazilian research assistants and crew members) are continuously dying as the film goes on. Typical in many horror films, especially the monster flicks, the minorities are the first to die, usually written into the script as mere fodder for the monster to devour, providing more tension in regards to the main characters. Another example is the presence of the notorious inability for the female lead to make a proper escape from the monster without tripping at least once on nothing. This is probably horror’s most laughable cliché and, as seen from this film, is an aged motion. The ending, revealing the monster’s uncertain defeat, is another of the film’s typified conventions.
Jumping forward a few decades, we can see how the genre’s conventions and cultural reflection have progressed, using Clive Barker’s Hellraiser (1987) as an example. In this film the focus is primarily on that of the supernatural, instead of the focus on science seen in Creature. The film revolves around a family living in the house where a man named Frank, the former lover of the main, died. When Frank begins to come back to live, feeding on the flesh of the living and manipulating his ex lover, the tale begins. Vital to the plot is a small cube, which can be manipulated in order to summon a special sect of demons, specializing in torture. They want Frank, who had escaped them in the past, and so the film plays out, entrenched in the machinations of Frank and the demons, and focusing on those captured in the struggle.
This focus on the supernatural as the source of fear is directly related the cultural priorities of previous decades. Prior, as seen in Creature, science is becoming inherent to the American culture, but is new and therefore produces fear. In Hellraiser, a film of the eighties, science has become part of our lives, and so the focus has shifted to that of the supernatural, that which cannot be explained by science. In addition to this, the exposition and characters of the film have become much more complex. What was so simply portrayed in creature has now become subject to individual interpretation, the complexity inherent to the new post modern era.
We also see a much different perspective of gender equality. In Creature the female lead was portrayed in a way reflective of the traditionalist views of the culture. In Hellraiser, we can see a notable change. The multiple female leads in this film are portrayed as equals, if not domineering, in each of their typical relationships. Both characters are much stronger and more outgoing in this film, and are no longer simply victims of the evil that plagues them. Here we see them killing men and demons alike in order to secure their goals or defend themselves, no longer relying on the male as a source of protection and providence. And while the film is still subtlety machismo in nature, (placing women in horrible situations for a mainly male audience) the actual portrayal of women within the film reflect the attitude of the modern culture.
The happiness in the film in no longer existent either, in fact, it is quite the opposite. It may seem ridiculous to not the absence of happiness in a horror film, but if we look back at Creature, the portrayal of happiness, even amidst all the adversity, is very important. Here, this previous importance has been lost, and a much more realistic perspective has taken its place. And while the tension between characters in Creature was essentially akin to two rocks hitting each other, in Hellraiser it is more like oil and water. Both have the same tension as part of the objective to set the audience on edge, but the more modern attempts have developed into something more, the tension from unseen motives and slippery beliefs, rather than simple differences in opinion.
The overall experience of the horror film has become much more visceral as well. In Creature much of the edge comes from the actual suspense. In Hellraiser, we see the trend of shock horror that picked up such momentum in the eighties. Close up shots of massacred bodies, rats, cockroaches go hand in hand with cringe worthy shots of personal injury and mutilation of the human body. No longer is there any active censorship of coarse language, the characters letting the F-bomb fly in order to add to the tension of the audience. In Creature the height of sensuality was a kiss. Hellraiser possesses multiple scenes of suggested rape, blatant seduction, and simple unhaltered lust, but it is still considerably lighter material than what one might find in a horror film today.
The mise-en-scene is noticeably darker, the sun rarely shining, more noticeable in a color film. The score to has progressed, the soundtrack much more subtle and complex, the music covering a much broader range of emotional pull. The monster has also changed slightly. While being more complex in motivations, the character itself has become less so. The monster in Creature carried a touch of sympathy, the genre convention of absolute evil having not quite set. In Hellraiser, we see this convention risen into its complete form. This shift is actually a by-product of the increasing complexity of the characters. As the protagonists begin to slip into fields of grey, the antagonist must become blacker in order for there to be a proper difference. In horror especially this difference must be made clear, so as to create a source for the fear.
These changes however, are not the end, the genre continuing to evolve. Today we can see the beginning of a shift away from the slasher film’s of the eighties, the focus coming back to monster and suspense films of the thirties and fifties. While fear of the supernatural remains strong, the fear of biological and genetic mutation has been becoming mainstream as well, the genre reflecting new fears within our culture. Even as more and more filmmakers begin to pull and stretch many of the genre’s conventions, horror remains, stronger than ever. And as a new branch forms, cinema vertite slowly stemming within the genre as a recognizable technique and the influence of many foreign filmmakers, one can only speculate where the genre will proceed to.

Silence of the Lambs: A Psychological Review

Silence of the Lambs was a near perfect film on all accounts. The writing was excellent and thought provoking; the director pulled off several interesting shots, thus bringing the story to life with an amiable performance. Additionally, the acting was superb, especially in the part of Hannibal Lector, whose character Anthony Hopkins embraces wholeheartedly. While the film is not rife with outright terror, relying more a diabolical thought processes and twisted characters to make sure the audience does not get to comfortable, it still remains as one of the top horror films to date.
The movie begins with the introduction of our first main, Clarice Starling, an FBI trainee and favorite of Jack Crawford, head investigator of new set of grisly murders. Crawford wishes to use the mental faculties of brilliant Dr. Hannibal Lector to solve the case. The only problem: Lector is an insufferable psychopath, wishing only to feast on human flesh. Sending in Agent Sterling, in hopes of getting Lector to talk, and thus reveal something about the case, Crawford thus introduces us to our second main, Dr. Lector. This first scene of interaction between our two mains is probably one of the most powerful in the entire film, setting the stage for Starling’s perseverance and Lector’s dark ruminations.
The film moves on with Starling’s continued investigations into the “Buffalo Bill” case, following the clues left by Lector, rather than by more conventional means. After another attempt to enlist Lector’s help in the matter, the interrogations come to a halt, following another murder at the hands of Bill, this time the body washing up near Starling’s home town in West Virginia. After other clues are uncovered by autopsying the newly found body, Starling lures in Lector with a false deal, guaranteeing him limited freedom in return for his help. After discovering this Lector makes a real deal with Bill’s newest victim’s mother. He is then brought to Tennessee to meet with her and, after some disturbing dialogue, drops both a name and description of the killer.
Crawford and Starling are both removed from the case, due to the false deal they created, but not before Starling has one last chance to speak with Lector. This last scene of face to face dialogue is the best, trumping even the first in its excellent execution. In the end Lector gives out a few more clues, just before Starling is escorted off the premise. It is not soon after this that Lector escapes his new prison in, perhaps, one of the most original ways to date. The action then shifts to Starling, who, following Lector’s clues, draws closer and closer to the killer. Eventually she finds him, and after one of the only, but frightening none the less, scenes of dramatic terror, confronts Bill and, in the end, shoots him to death. The film ends with one last conversation between our two mains, and while short, remains just as entertaining as those prior.
Now, however, we must turn to the application of various psychological theories to the film, in regards to its disturbing content. Fortunately this was a stellar film and therefore a true critique is unnecessary. First up, Freudian Theory. In the film Silence of the Lambs, the, perhaps, most prominent example of the Freudian Theory can be seen in many of the psychotic patients near Lector. Of these the insane man known only as “Miggs” is the most powerful example. The ego giving away completely to the id and the complete lack of any sort of recognizable superego accurately presents itself in the most horrid sexual manner. The character in the film lacks every social or cultural cue regarding sexual advancements, debasing himself and others with his overbearing sex drive, shedding light on what a human might be like with only the id controlling one’s action.
The id can also be seen in the primary villain of the film, Buffalo Bill, who also seems to have an overbearing id, albeit one that still has uses for both the ego and, to a minor degree, the superego. Another interpretation could be that his id is simply dysfunctional, needing things that one would not normally place in the normal person’s id’s jurisdiction. Once again sexual implications are a primary focus, very Freudian. As for Hannibal Lector, there could be multiple arguments for his actions, ranging from the dysfunctional id from the last example, to a dysfunctional ego, simply “thinking outside the box” to achieve the id’s needs.
Regarding another piece of Freud’s work, defense mechanisms, Silence of the Lambs offers plenty of fertile ground. Repression is most obviously seen in Starling’s purposeful forgetfulness regarding her own past, something Lector helps her out with near the end of the film. Isolation is also seen presented by Starling and Crawford with their extremely cavalier attitude to Lector’s rather distasteful enterprises. Reaction formation could be said to be displayed by Lector himself, in regards to his refusal to harm Starling, even after her constant attempts at deception and gregarious mistrust of him. Introjection is an easy one to see, as the villain is one whom thinks of himself as a transsexual. Regression is also a prominent piece at the beginning of the film, with multiple flash backs by Starling when in uncomfortable situations. Sublimation is, once again, displayed by our female main, who takes her fear of slaughter and transforms it into a drive to catch those whom slaughter.
Moving on to Karl Hung’s philosophies, we can observe the various archetypes present in the film. Of the most prominent of these in the film, the shadow archetype certainly takes center stage. Here the animalistic needs present within all of us lie and in some cases, as much of the evil presented in Silence of the Lambs, rises to the top of our consciousness. In Bill we see the dark side of sexuality. For him it takes on a twisted form, for in the film he is constantly shown to be doing things that in other circumstances might have been considered just normal horniness, but through comes out to be something rather sick. In fact many of the shadow like representatives in the film are presented as perversions of normality. But one cannot forget the most prominent example of shadow presented in the film, Hannibal Lector. He presents another aspect of the shadow, one of viciousness and brutality. In fact, later on in the series Hannibal is even alluded to a prominent example of the shadow, namely the dragon.
Naturally there are many other archetypes present in the film. As in nearly all film and other works of art both anima and animus are present. There is a father figure present, albeit briefly, as seen in Starling’s father. The child is also present, which could be said to be represented by many different characters, from Starling, to Bill himself. Naturally we have the hero, represented by the naive and idealistic Clarice Starling. We have the maiden, taking the aspect of the Senator’s daughter whom has been kidnapped by the villain. The wise old man archetype can be seen in Crawford, as he is continuously taking Starling under his wing and giving guidance and care as needed. Additionally, one can see lector as the dark father archetype, as he too is constantly giving the hero much needed advice and guidance, albeit in a much more twisted fashion. Finally, the hermaphrodite is a large part of the film as the villain very much so embraces such an archetype.
It is easy to tell why these things would scare us, loss of control over the id or even our one shadow archetype, are frightening thoughts. But, what else makes this film so disturbing? If you apply Evolutionary psychology, a most prominent example is evident near the very end of the film. When Starling is alone in the dark, being stalked by an unseen menace that can no doubt see her, one can almost feel her fear. According to the Evolutionary theory of fear this is due to the universal fear of both the dark and the unknown. It is during this scene that our main character fully realizes her fear of death, another universal fear. A final example of this theory lies in the fact that none of the prison guards tasked with keeping Lector locked up can stomach the thought of truly examining the “near dead” guard supposedly struck down by Lector. Naturally, this leads to Lector’s escape.
As for King’s theory, that we are fears are reflected by our culture and vice versa, this to can easily be seen in the film. Primarily these fears are represented by our two monsters, Lector and Bill. The primary reason the two to be so terror inducing lies in the fact that they could be anyone. They have no outward signs of what truly lies with in, and this is something that, in today’s society, we are afraid of. It is the reason we lock our doors at night, it is the reason we try not to go anywhere alone, we do not want to be eaten by a psychopath or skinned by another.
The moralistic fears evident in the film have to do primarily with our cultures views on sexual immorality. Miggs, with his blatant “immorality”, using sexual slang and masturbating in his cell, dies soon after he is introduced. The question is: do we feel sorry for him? No, certainly not, we cheer Hannibal on as he calmly speaks of the matter. Additionally, there is the cautious practice of not helping strangers. The third victim of Bill learned this the hard way.
Perhaps most prominent of all, however, is the extreme homophobia present throughout the film. The most obvious example is the difference between the two monsters in the film. Hannibal is actually portrayed as a sympathetic character. We tend to fear him, yet who did not applaud his ingenuity evident in his escape. No, he is not the true villain in the film; the true villain is Buffalo Bill, a despicable creature whose problems arise from his homosexual type tendencies. The film is created in a fashion as to force the audience to view Bill with the most blatant disgust we can muster. Why? Because he wants to be transsexual, he acts gay, he is, to “proper” society a monster simply for those reasons and the filmmakers attempt to exemplify this by creating him to be a true monster.
The film is good, I will most likely watch it again, something I do not do very often. It provides a wealth of examples for all the various theories and philosophies of the human mind, and with that, human fears. The film provides the perfect balance of thought provoking dramatics and shocking scenes only seen in our own nightmares. Truly a most excellent leader of its genre.

Welcome to Sarajevo: A Review

Welcome to Sarajevo is an excellent political commentary on the subject of the world powers' inefficiency at problem solving. Based off the novel of the same name written by Michael Nicholson, the film was directed by Michael Winterbottom. Starring several actors claiming unreputable careers themselves, Stephen Dillane, Woody Harrelson, and Marisa Tomei never less play their roles in a stunning fashion. Possessing a brilliant script and a unique style of filmmaking, Welcome to Sarajevo is arguably one of the best “true” examinations of war.
The film follows the activities of an insane group of field journalists as they attempt to accurately cover the Bosnian war in the red hot city of Sarajevo. The atrocities are unthinkable, the damage unimaginable, the evident nonchalance on part of the UN, uncomfortable. Eventually, the group decides to try and help the people around them, rather than just document them. Focusing on the desperate children of Sarajevo, the group shows the world how dangerous their situation is, at the same time showing the utter lack of compassion on the part of the UN bureaucracy.
Not wanting to lose face, the UN caves, supporting the evacuation of the children most threatened within the city to Italy. The journalists follow; wanting to make sure the children reach their destination safely, and film along the way of course. Their journey is interrupted, however, by a Czech border patrol, which takes some of the children. Shocked by this sudden turn of events, one of the journalists spontaneously decides to take one of the children home with him, in this case a nine year old girl by the name of Emira. In London Emira finds a home, unsullied by the destruction and hate rampant in her homeland. The journalist, and the rest of his family, has, at the same time, grown to love Emira, every day a reminder of innocence, rescued by the barest of margins. All this is threatened, when Emira’s mother, presumed dead, discovers where her daughter has been, and decides she wants her back.
Our ever so compassionate journalist refuses to comply, and travels back to Bosnia to find Emira’s mother and convince her to let him adopt Emira. The situation in Sarajevo has, unfortunately, not changed in the least, and after several dangerous escapades, the journalist finds Emira’s mother. She, however, refuses to comply with his requests, and the journalist, now rather frustrated, has Emira’s mother follow him to his fellow journalists’ base of operations, where he has a video recording of Emira back in London. Showing the distraught mother the tape, he decides to let Emira talk to her mother herself, for the Bosnian woman still is unconvinced. The situation is settled in one dramatic instant, as Emira flat out tells her mother that she will not be returning to Bosnia, not for her, not for anyone. The movie soon ends, with the assurance that the real Emira, is safe, still living in London.
The theme in this film is pretty straightforward. It attempts to show the viewer the horrors of war, the tragedy that is part of life, and the effects such a situation has upon the people. It also attempts to express the political paradox evident in such violent wars. The fact that the most powerful countries on our earth cannot efficiently affect even the smallest and least influential pieces of the world, is something the filmmakers wanted to get across. The creators of this film do this an extremely clever way, not focusing on any one country in particular, although there is a slightly greater focus on the U.S., rather they aim their jabs solely upon the UN, and every country part of it.
The style used in the film itself was an excellent choice for the film’s dominant theme. Much of the footage was actual footage shot on location during the war presented in the world’s news broadcasts. What was not, was shot in the same gritty, slightly unclear, feel that true on scene news footage has. It also presented many elements of an action adventure film as well, helping to keep the audience on their toes, but the focus was too thoroughly pulled towards the dramatic style and story, that any true semblance to such a genre is lost. The film almost bordered on that of documentary in several areas as well, giving it an element of truth that made it much more believable and engaging.
It was, perhaps, this “combination” of genres between drama and documentary that became the strongest element within the film. It breaks down the traditional barriers one places around the mind when watching a film with such horrifying scenes, knowing that what you are watching is not real. In this film, however, one does not know what is real and what is fabricated, due to the amount of true footage present throughout, this, in short, strengthening the emotional appeal of the entire film. In the end, however, the film remains firmly in the drama genre, due to the fact that it is fiction and only based on actual happenings.
The film was very effective in the fact that the viewer is easily able to grasp the main themes present in the film. As I mentioned previously the amount of documentary like style the filmmakers use in the construction of the film is the primary drive behind this, pulling the viewer in, and then punching them in the heart. It gives the viewer a much different impression then one might think given the film’s prominent form of emotional appeal, namely the various war crimes and their effect on the citizens of Sarajevo. What one expects is to have a more saddened reaction. Instead Winterbottom presents the film in a much more shocking format, basically sidestepping the tearful reaction, digging much deeper. Instead of the more superficial reaction, one almost feels disappointment in humanity. It is a disappointment in the fact that human kind can be so brutal, but at the same time disappointment that human kind can be so utterly uncompassionate.
In the end, Welcome to Sarajevo is a truly powerful film, presenting its message in a unique fashion. Expertly directed and executed, in no way does the script or directing take away from its primary purpose. Essentially it is a warning, a warning of the consequences evident in the human loss of compassion. I thoroughly recommend this film to anyone who might not have missed it; its message needs to be heard.

American Werewolf in London: A Review

This is a pretty good film in the scheme of things. In fact the only thing keeping it from being one of the best in werewolf cinema is the dismal acting throughout. The writing is mediocre, but serviceable and the director is definitely talented, but the acting… It just does not quite reach the level of hair raising horror that would make it perfect, mostly due to the fact that none of the characters ever show any real fear, but it does have its moments.
The film begins with beautiful sweeping shots of the English country side, slightly reminiscent of certain romanticism type elements. The camera then pans down onto two young American tourists, backpacking through England. After some personality revealing dialogue, the two young men happen upon a small pub and enter as to escape the cold. Eventually, however, the two figure they are unwelcome and leave, stepping out beneath a full moon. Continuing on, our two young adventures decide to turn around after being spooked by foreboding howling noises. Unfortunately, they do not make it in time and are attacked by a monstrous wolf. The locals soon arrive on scene, guilt ridden for sending them out in the first place, and shoot the beast to death. It is too late though for one of the boys is already dead, the other wounded, but only superficially.
David, the surviving kid and our main, wakes up in London Hospital confused and upset by the news of his friend’s most untimely end. The plot slows as we see dreary set of scenes slowly setting up the relationship between David and his nurse, Alex. Things truly begin with the apparition of Jack, David’s dead friend, totally gruesome and bearing devastating news. David, he explains, is a werewolf and must kill himself before the full moon as to prevent the potential destruction that will result if David transformed in such a populated city. David, already suffering from intense nightmares, dismisses the event as fabrications of his traumatized mind. Eventually, he is discharged from the hospital, and moves in with his newfound love interest.
The plot shuffles on, as David and Alex’s relationship reaches a physical level and David’s doctor, Dr. Hirsch, begins to investigate the true happenings behind David’s afflictions. After another apparition by Jack, once again pleading with David to just kill himself, the next day begins. David stays behind whilst Alex goes to work setting the stage for that night’s full moon. Finally, after an interesting confrontation with the locals that saved David, Dr. Hirsch discovers that David truly is a werewolf, or at the very least, lycanthropic. Calling Alex to warn her, it is already too late, for David has begun his transformation.
David then goes on a killing spree, spreading terror throughout the city. Waking up the next morning, he finds himself at the zoo and stark naked. Returning home he finds a worried Alex, whom, upon his arrival, heeds Dr. Hirsch’s warnings and takes David to have the doctor examine him. David, however, finding out about six grisly murders of last night, realizes what he is and runs deeper into the city, away from Alex. Attempting to commit suicide, but finding himself unable, he follows jack into a porn theater, hoping for advice. There he finds, not only Jack, but all of his victims from the night before. Losing track of time, the full moon comes out, and David once again begins his transformation. Creating even more havoc then the previous night, he is eventually cornered by police. Alex attempts to calm him, but to no avail. David leaps at her and is shot to death. Alex begins to cry hysterically, and the credits roll.
As I mentioned previously, the acting is what really brings this film down. Throughout the film there is not one character, with the exception of Alex and a few supporting characters, whom can act with any degree of emotion. Even the mentioned exceptions do not really act astoundingly well, simply the apex of mediocrity. The most prominent of these so called actors is David Naughton, playing David. His best friend was killed in a horrible accident, and besides one completely over the top scene in which he was supposed to show anguish, he never alludes to that fact in any way. The rest of the characters could have gotten away with it, but come on, the title character?
The directing is what truly makes the film. The writing is pretty good as well, Landis was able to convey many characteristics just through dialogue, without having to resort to direct action on the part of the characters. They way he brings it to life is much better, it is a pity he never really went anywhere in his career. He could have if he had kept writing horror films. Anyway, the camera shots never really belied anything spectacular, although his forest dream sequences are really well done. In the directing arena it is probably the excellent moments of suspense and great appliance of the background score that are most prominent.
Almost every scene meant to scare did so to its fullest potential. If a better writer had been hired it might would have been better, but it was sufficient. The scenes created to make the audience jump worked well and the tempo was kept during the suspense scenes. The best by far however, was the pure, unfiltered creepiness of Jack’s apparitions. The scenes were very much like those shown in The Sixth Sense, where the ghosts all still bear the wounds that kill them. Each of these scenes was expertly crafted for maximum affect, so that even with the special effects being substandard in today’s digital age, it was still creepy. It is too bad Jack was not portrayed by a better actor, it would have been even better.
The soundtrack was also selected very well, from the opening credits all the way to the end ones. The only weird piece of music I heard was the one played during David’s first transformation. It was a very happy, light hearted piece, and although it provided excellent contrast with what was happening visually, I think it would have been better to just go ahead and play some uncomfortable sounding music instead.
Overall, it was a pretty good movie. I would not be against watching it again in the future, but it did not quite make it to the “truly awesome” category, mostly because of the suckish acting, but I repeat myself. It was not bad as far as horror movies go, it did have some scary parts in it, although I would not put it on a Stephen King level. And really, even with the sort of cliffhanger ending, it worked. Thumbs up.