Boyhood: A look at human nature or a "wow-factor" ploy?

With a 98 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, an Academy Award under its wing, and being a total box office success, it's hard to say Boyhood isn't a win for independent movies everywhere. Yet, the choice for director Richard Linklater, known for his altercations of time and personal relationships, to film this over the course of 12 years is undoubtedly impressive to a wide audience. As a coming-of-age film, to be different in the theme of "growing up" can be difficult, but Linklater set to convey the human experience through the means of unconventional editing and scene cuts, which may not be seen in average coming-of-age film.

Obviously, we see Mason (Ellar Coltrane) throughout his life with each scene as a snapshot of his life in a year. Linklater had to get creative in his editing techniques, as for the film's unconventional filming. The abrupt transition between each scene may seem messy or unnatural to the average viewer, yet isn't this the same way we grow up? Through each year, especially the young teenage years, we grow and we change the person we are, whether it's aesthetically (as Mason does) or thoughtfully. One transition that embodies this is from middle into high school, where Mason was just drinking with some less-than-cool high school boys as a 13 year old, and directly after, the scene cuts to a year later, where Mason now has a girlfriend and is smoking weed. In the scenes before, when Mason is still very young, we hardly saw him experiment, but this is pivotal, as this can be the age an average American kid will begin to engage in these activities. Yet, this seemingly awkward transition, in which Mason's hair has grown some considerable inches, we see a growth in his demeanor, more cool and understanding. 

Another scene where Linklater's interesting approach at editing is when directly after Mason's mother, Olivia (Patricia Arquette), exclaims that she thought there would be more to her own life, Mason's interaction with the girl he meets at his college leaves many viewers confused and without closure. Just as we think to a film as long and almost uneventful as this must have a super-thrilling ending, it's a simple stoner-esque, brief thought to end this epic. Just as life itself, whether it is high school graduation, or moving out for the first time, or meeting our first friends in college, we always expect more, just as Mason's mom has, and we do at the end of this film. It seems a bit of a cop-out or a simple ending to an epic of a movie, but this adds much needed closure to the film's mission to convey a full and true life. 

Yet, while viewing the film, there are no instances of editing that scream out to me as "bad", one in particular seems somewhat awkward and not in the good, thematic way as above. After Mason and his girlfriend Sheena visit his sister at college, they undergo a serious and painful breakup. While this can showcase how a high school relationship can go from sweet to sour in the matter of minutes (or scene cuts), it seemed rushed and awkward while watching. They were just beatific in bed together, and suddenly and without any actual indication, Sheena has slept with another guy. Both Mason and Sheena act childish in their breakup, and after this, we no longer see Sheena, as high school breakups usually end. 

It isn't easy comparing this film's means of editing to any other, given this may be the most commercially successful film that was filmed over an extended period of time. While Boyhood's extended time was intentional, one can compare the film's abrupt cuts and themes of realism to Alexander Payne's Nebraska. Both film's convey a sense of realism to the viewer through the means of simple and abrupt editing. For both Nebraska and Boyhood, we want more out of the film, like the finale, where everything comes in full circle and the abrasive, alcoholic, old man gets the prize movie he's been searching for, and Mason comes to some conclusion about his existence, yet we don't get that. Instead, the realism sets in, and we understand the themes of this film are abrupt and unpredictable, just as life is.              

MYST #5: Heathers: My Lack of Trust for the 80's

If you have ever wanted to know anything about the 80's from a girl that didn't experience those years, it's that the movies were either a complete hit or miss. The mesh of teenage slang, "quirky" (but actually horrid) attire, and big hair aside, a few movies in particular highlight an era of the confused teen. Director Michael Lehmann's 1988 crime-comedy teen movie, Heathers, exemplifies this teenage struggle to first to fit in with the famed or esteemed "popular kids" and that subsequent departure to find oneself through the hilarious means of murder a la Winona Ryder (Veronica) and Christian Slater (J.D.).

To relate this film to the John Hughes' of the era (you know, Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, blah, blah, blah), isn't technically a compliment. A Hollywood outlook for the John Hughes' is implemented tenfold - an outcast from society (even if popular) changed the self in order to fit in, get the cool/popular/edgy guy, and for some reason, "finds" themselves along the way. This complex of oneself presented adds a sexist and offensive theme to each film, as in, a female (or male) may change how they view themselves in order to get what they want. Yet, this stigma is almost completely turned on its head in Heathers: Veronica, emigrating from that popular clique, finds a dark intruder in herself and kills the vermin that altered her persona and means of life: Heather (the main one, not the ones that don't matter).

As a huge and awful spoiler alert, after a copious amount of plot lines thereafter, her nasally and edgy boyfriend, J.D., kills himself via homemade bomb in the end, expecting to kill Heather as well. There stands Veronica - after succeeding in the death of what bit her the most (Heather) and almost finishing taking out what's still haunting her (J.D.), she stands outside of the school as we see a wide-angled shot displaying what is a symbol for high schools everywhere- the American flag, perfect red steps leading into a student's safe haven. J.D. asks Veronica what she's to do now that she's dead, as he has just activated the random bomb strapped to him. After her exit from a clique, a toxic relationship, and multiple deaths, a scorched and bloody Veronica lights a cigarette of acceptance. Our camera displays her in front of the clouds of the smokey school, her face, dripping of (fake) blood, stands out to conceive her rebirth into a found woman. We pan out again, as J.D.'s bomb explodes, killing him and alerting the students at the school's assembly they both missed. Veronica takes a drag of her now lit cigarette, and walks into the school to display her new found scars of endearment to the students.

It's not that this movie as no clichés (all of those high school cliques almost made me gag), yet it's displayed in an ironic way, as to highlight their falsities and, hopefully, break them down. Almost any teenager, in the eighties or now, will tell you they've struggled with fitting in before, but (hopefully) not to this perfect, cookie-cutter extent. As well, the film's extremities to break these stereotypes down prove extreme, yet we still obtain the message of originality in the end.

FOUR OF FIVE JAMES FRANCO'S IN OZ: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL (2013)

"Short Term 12": Through the intimacy of the camera lens

For a film to verify complete authenticity throughout, it may develop a sense of believability through relaxed dialogue, and an expectation of the setting must be presented in such a way the viewer feels pulled out of their own life to fully succumb to the story. In Destin Daniel Critton’s Short Term 12, starring an inevitably believable Brie Larson and dim-witted, yet relaxed John Gallagher Jr., the viewer’s acceptance of this short term housing unit for young adults in substandard family situations stands evident throughout, using a means of incredibly intimate camera shots and less than constant movement. Their stories, combined with the ever-failing relationship of the two main characters, Grace (Larson) and Mason (Gallagher) is extended onto the viewer to create hyper-realism for a cringe-enticing and intimate, believable atmosphere.

In one scene, Grace discovers that she is pregnant with Mason as the father and immediately schedules an abortion without a thought or any input from Mason. Soon to come, the camera stays steady and hardly apparent as she tells him they are going to have a baby, excluding the instance of the abortion, to the viewer’s surprise.

Grace’s own struggles with depression and her inability to connect with others shines as she exhibits happiness at the thought of her future child with Mason, as the dramatic irony sets in. The use of the shaky-cam lets the viewer into their world, and one close-up shot highlights her own regret for her misinformation towards innocent and oblivious Mason.

An interpretation of “suspense of reality” relates to this scene, as Grace cannot completely relate to Mason, and Mason’s own obliviousness becomes more and more evident. This intimacy stands real and true, and the viewer does not question its authenticity, only its realism and believability stand apparent through the camera’s smoothness, as if it is absent, and we are simply watching this melancholy, and ironically relaxing scene in the awkward comfort of their room.

Once more, later in the film, Brie refuses to open herself and display emotions to Mason when he pleas with her to dictate to him why she continues to suppress her past. Her visible discomfort and distress are not questioned by the viewer, only her influence in her actions upset the viewer, since she cannot follow the outstanding advice she gives her own housing kids, as Mason says to her. Even a viewer that is absent of a past with depression will accept this scene’s realism through the shot of Brie, visible anxiousness and a cinematic separation between her and Mason through the camera’s subtle cuts and shaky-cam, as their subtle separation becomes evident.

This film achieves its mission statement of authenticity in these previous scenes, yet in one scene, an almost too intimate camerawork felt overbearing and redundant.

One focal point of the film is a young adult at the short term housing unit named Marcus. His solitary demeanor reflects his own past with an abusive mother, and his full past comes in full circle for the viewer in his rap, depicting the void of normalcy he experienced because of his mother. The camera hyper-focuses on Marcus as he dictates the dejected household he has yet to come to terms with. While this scene is detrimental to the viewer’s understanding of Marcus, the intense camerawork seems pretentious and aureate at the cut’s extended shot. The attention to detail at this scene takes attention from Marcus’ words of somber, making the viewer ignorant to the authority its words to take.

Even with this intense scene, the film proves authenticity, as other contemporary films have in recent years. Academy Award-winning film Boyhood exemplifies the same use of shaky camera and close shots to establish its intimacy, as Short Term 12 has. Richard Linklater’s 12-year epic film takes this voyage for credibility and realism to another niche, as it truly does follow the adolescence of an American boy. The viewer establishes their own life through this boy, in more relatable aspects than Short Term 12 depicts. Most American youth can relate to a birth, a breaking point, and finally exile as their youth comes to a close, yet it is harder for a person to come to accept the story presented in Short Term 12, presumably regarded to the fact many do not have the rehabilitation relation in the film.

Yet, through contemporary film’s praise to the familiarity of the youth, rather than a nod at social status based on movement in films prior, Short Term 12 communicates its desired believability, even without a universal relatable story.

MYST # 4: Midnight Cowboy

  

A combination of Americana counterculture and New-wave French cinema are apparent in the John Schlesinger drama Midnight Cowboy, starring  Jon Voight as Joe Buck, a naive hustler looking for wealthy women to pay him for his "duties", and a completely unfamiliar Dustin Hoffman as Enrico 'Ratso' Rico, a New York City conman with less than consistent health. This, and uncomfortable fast-forwarding of sex scenes to relieve any and all awkward conversation with my father, who was watching this with me, did not disappoint in Midnight Cowboy.

Intimate camera work combined with a Kodachrome-esque execution brought this X-rated film from the supposed pornography cinema into an three-time Oscar-winning piece of work. Winner for the prestige Best Picture, the tracking shots and intimate close-ups of Joe highlight his loneliness and longing for his past, shown in the scene where Bible thumper Mr. O'Daniel (John McGiver) pushes prayer onto him in a in not-so-seemingly hopeful career in Joe's craft: sex.

Large influence from French New-wave cinema were not only seen in this film, but most arthouse-y films of this time. Dustin Hoffman recent appearance in Mike Nichols' The Graduate just two years before made a splash with large audiences at the time for its interesting camera-work and surrealistic scenes, like the awkwardness that ensued after Benjamin puts on a scuba-diving outfit bought by his parents for his birthday, as Benjamin is seen alone underwater, accepting the loss of control for his future. Much of cinema at this time had the same loss of "American identity" style of thematic element, Midnight Cowboy being no different.

The surreal and drug-infused scene where Joe and Ratso attend a Warhol-like party implement this loss of classic American identity a myriad of films dictated in the 1960s-70s, as proposed by The Artifice magazine. Sitting alone are the Cowboy himself, his ridiculous outfit a symbol for the outlandish old American values, and the scuzzy Ratso, New York City's own sleazy sub-counterculture of condescending morals, where money and self-fulfillment are the only vices. They're approached by an even more different culture, artsy and drug-fueled Warhol-wannabes, exemplifying the current culture of the creative minds, filmmakers, artists, and their drug-experimenting followers. This culture invites  the American and Sleaze-ball to a "creative-mind" party.

At this party, drugs and sex run rampant, and this is highlighted by the surrealistic and New-wave influenced camera, with discontinuity editing and countless amounts of parallel action to display the many encounters of each culture at this party. Joe is drugged at this party, after smoking a joint (what he thought was a cigarette) and taking an "upper" from a party-goer. The juxtaposition of past-American culture and present-counterculture entailed in this movie give insight to how both counter- and classic-culture view each other, both accepting and skeptical.

Aside from the copious amount of sex scenes endeared while watching this movie with my father, a person conscious of American counterculture at this time period will see it's obvious theme in this movie, making it an obvious hit. An X-rating should not dismay any viewer interested in this culture, but be weary of who's watching this with you. I wasn't, and I do regret that.

FIVE OF FIVE JAMES FRANCO'S IN OZ: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL (2013)

MYST #3: "Neighbors" or "What Happened to Belushi?"

When you think of John Belushi, you get that image of COLLEGE in your head, some weirdo, community college kid, and some great SNL nostalgia. Always the crazed imbecile with some great one-liners (mention some). And Dan Aykroyd? He's the father-figure, always the voice of reason. Yet in Neighbors, this quota is completely flipped, and it'll totally throw you a fast one.

My dad raves about this movie, how it's Belushi's last film and how that says something. As the uninformed slup of a person I am, there was no recognition for me to understand what he meant.

Belushi plays father and husband, Earl Keese. He's reserved, stressed, but loving - what you would see from a media father figure in 1981. When the new neighbors, sketchy Vic (Aykroyd) and sultry Ramona (Cathy Moriarty), begin to infuriate Earl with their antics (Ramona calmly hiding in Earl's bed, Vic stealing Earl's car to "pick up food" before making the food in his own house, etc.), he cannot prove their actually doing anything wrong. The ineffectual Earl questions his and his family's sanity all the while Vic and Ramona continue to berate and intimidate him.

As Roger Ebert commented in his review back in 1981, this film touches on the aspect of human behavior, where we will act "rigidly polite in the face of absolutely unacceptable behavior" (Ebert). For what seems to be the first time in his career, Belushi is the good Samaritan while Aykroyd is the refutable aspect next door.

The dark aspect to this movie makes it so it is not for everyone. Many of the jokes are harsh, and seeing Belushi in a (for the lack of a better word) "serious" role can be off-putting to the mainstream.

SPOILER ALERT: The last scene of this film, in a strange, dark, and melancholy way can stand in for Belushi's drug overdose four months after the wide release of this film. After his night of first terror, regret, acceptance, and then more regret, Earl existentially realizes he has not been as happy as he was the night with Vic and Ramona as he had been in years. He then runs off with them, leaving his family and 9-5 life (and his house on fire) behind to begin a concourse with a life he has never seen before. Through an intimate shot of Earl, Vic, and Ramona in their car together, we see our convectional and cultivated father finally creaking from the social norm of the patriarch. Belushi's struggle with drug addiction makes this a very heavy topic, but can also highlight his wisdom as an actor - under a depression as he had, he remained able to perform as serious as he could in a still "funny" role. 

This is a hard one to recommend to an Animal House buff or for Belushi's SNL fans or, let alone, anyone who has seen Ghostbusters. My dad's ideology of this film rubbed by view slightly - a lot, in fact - to the left towards a view of undeniable and freaky principles of this hidden existential gem.

FOUR OF FIVE JAMES FRANCO'S AS OZ IN OZ: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL (2013)

MYST #2: "Capote" (Okay, Philip Seymour-Hoffman)

Okay, so In Cold Blood may still be gathering dust on my bookshelf. Okay, maybe I didn't know anything about Truman Capote's inclinations on this book rather than my ex-boyfriend telling me "this is the book that put Capote on the map and, in turn, made him crazy." Okay. My ignorance can add a little considerable, but good, difference of perception to the storyline, right?

So, what's the story here? This semi-biopic tells the story of American author Truman Capote: a flamboyant personality that, at least in this film, used said flamboyance for his own personal accomplishments to his best-selling "nonfiction novel", In Cold Blood. The novel tells the tale of a small town quadruple homicide by Richard Hickock and Perry Smith.

In the film, Philip Seymour-Hoffman eloquently plays the namesake, which goes for obvious, as we can see from the Oscar he won for this role. Other parts, like War, Doubt, and The Master required Hoffman's extensive acting and undeniable talent, as he was nominated for Oscars for these films, as well.

One scene in particular stood out to not only me, but relatively anyone who sees this movie will remember the famous execution scene. Capote, after his egotistic intentions are revealed to Hickock and Smith, attends the execution of the two. There is an apparent balance of camera action on Capote, emotional with a lackluster apology, and the two prisoners, observant but continually displaying a strong demeanor. Highlighting Capote's repentance is a long camera shot of him and his internal collapse into a serious ugly cry.

Capote's disposition tells of his regret: the tears, the red face, the shaking. The camera highlights this by the use of a handheld camera to add a realistic effect to this. Capote is a horrible, conniving, and small (in stature and courage) man throughout the film, but the camera shots force an empathetic view (also, who can hate PSH when he's crying his eyes out?).

The 23 awards Hoffman won for his role in Capote do not only tell of his triumphant acting, but in reality, this film exceeds all expectations because, well, I didn't have any. Ignorance towards a film can pay off, especially when you find out halfway through that it's Oscar winning.

FIVE OUT OF FIVE JAMES FRANCO'S AS OZ IN "OZ: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL" (2013)

Trust issues through editing a la Memento

Waltzing into a movie twenty minutes after it starts usually won't alter your comprehension or enjoyment too much. The rom-com will still end with the two unlikelys together, even if you didn't see the instant where "their eyes met". That action film will end with Liam Neeson finding whomever he keeps losing, and all is good.  It is NOT the case with Christopher Nolan's Memento. Missing the smallest aspect of this film can and will completely throw even the most-skilled editor off.

Our story is told in a different time lapse than any other film I've seen - what Nolan describes as alternating sequences: chronologically, 1-22 (the black-and-white scenes), and then in reverse, A-V (the color scenes). This split in edits is done perfectly throughout the film to create a sense of disorder for the viewer in order to relate to Leonard's condition of short-term memory loss. 

An achievement of the totally confusing, backwards editing was extremely sufficient when the viewer finds out that our famous femme fatale Natalie, is THE femme fatale in our neo-noir film. We first see Leonard scrummaging for something (a pen, we later find out) and telling himself not to forget whatever just happened, as Natalie walks in, hurt and bloody. She was apparently hurt by drug dealer Dodd over some money. We see Natalie as weak and vulnerable as she is comforted by Leonard.

All is not as well as we think as we cut to what happened immediately before. Natalie walks into her home as Leonard is sitting at her coffee table. We cut to her closing the blinds as if someone is following her. That someone is the infamous Dodd. After a little explaining, Natalie requests that Leonard kill Dodd and he refuses. She begins to berate him, calling him a freak and reveals she will use him because he will forget everything she says. Leonard hits her, and she becomes bloody like she was in the scene prior. She walks out as Leonard is rummaging to find a pen to write down what just happened. And everything comes in full circle as we are introduced to the scene prior.

The choice to edit this scene relates to the idea of Leonard's obvious confusion throughout the film. We are introduced to what's happening just as Leonard is: without any background knowledge. And mixed in is a little climactic techniques to keep the viewer interested.

Throughout the film, I was highly intrigued by the black-and-white scenes because of their mystery. They're mixed in with full color sequences that would presumably be happening in real time. To create even more confusion, the color aspect is somewhat inverted, as black-and-white scenes are usually flashbacks, but in this case, they are the only scenes that occur in chronological order.

In one color scene, Leonard finds out Teddy is an undercover cop (named John G., mind you). Without a second watch, the viewer may not notice that in a following black-and-white scene (that actually happened before he finds
out Teddy is a cop), Leonard finds out the mysterious caller he has been talking to is, in fact, a cop. There's no explicit reveal like "Teddy is the man on the phone!!" but a basic understanding of structure will entail this. Leonard has no idea throughout the film that Lenny has been helping him this entire time, and neither does the viewer due to the use of inverted editing.

The editing is expert throughout this film, yet in one case, it could have been backed by a larger, more momentous plot event. The black-and-white scenes consistently tell of the sad life of Sammy Jenkis, who is used as a parallel to Leonard's own condition. In a manic attempt to prove Sammy can "snap out" of his sickness, his lost wife involuntarily overdoses on her insulin at the hands of Sammy. Towards the end of the film (in the beginning chronologically), Leonard is seen in Sammy's spot: in the hospital, giving insulin to his wife, etc.

Leonard IS Sammy, and his wife did not die because of the attack but because of the insulin overdose. The magnitude of this reveal seemed subpar in relation to the sensationalized quick-cuts of Leonard in Sammy's place. This should have been the biggest reveal of the movie, comparable to the reveal of the Narrator and Tyler Durden being the same person in Fight Club. Yet, I felt this was incredibly underplayed and not as important as the fact this movie is "totally crazy and backwards!!"

It is impossible to comprehend and. in succession, enjoy the film without at least semi-comprehension of this plot event, yet it could have been much more magnified - through dialouge instead of crazy, cool editing.