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. 

Formal Film Study: The (quite obvious) self-referential themes in 8 1/2, Synecdoche, New York, and Day for Night

A simple viewing of a film does not entail the interpretation or analysis of the process in which the film was made. Yet, somewhat involvement in any film class or even after a simple Wiki read (we're all guilty of it), one wonders the steps of the creative process taken, most specifically by the eyes and mind of the piece: the director. Three popular "meta" films, 8 1/2 by Italian director Federico Fellini, Synecdoche, New York by Charlie Kaufman, and Day for Night by French director François Truffaut, all explore this aspect of a director's struggle of creating his masterpiece and it's subsequent lackluster outcome.

An overzealous and apparently vividly important thematic element to these self-referential films is the classic case of the melancholy director filling the void in his existence with his masterpiece. In 8 1/2, we see our anti-hero, Guido, consistently dreaming of his paradise (which may I add is being surrounded by women attending to his needs) while alternating gaining confidence in his art and then losing complete interest (or losing his memory of the film's following plot, as some would argue). Guido’s disinterest in the life surrounding him has caused him to indirectly make his epic about his own life, casting beautiful women to fulfill whatever it is he has lost (self-pity maybe). As well, Synecdoche includes Caden’s lust for acceptance in his marriage and family life while subsequently pursuing his maidens (to be truthful- they simply are Hollywood's brand of neo-femme fatales). Just as in 8 1/2, he begins a over budget epic, spanning what seems to be 20 years in the making, a play becoming more and more alike his life after the success of his adaption of Death of a Salesman.

Will Schiffelbein of firstshowing.net writes that the creativity and longevity of film/theatre process “a labor intensive process, often wrought with difficulty and strife”. This is seen firsthand in Synecdoche, New York: as the production extends 20 years, Caden grows older and older, yet he still latches on to his past, like when his trip to Germany to find his daughter goes sour when he claims she is “only four!” This ignorance to time is apparent in 8 ½ as well, when Guido imagination takes hold and he envisions his first sexual experience with a local prostitute. Both egocentric directors bring us through the trip of each respective film, while we explore, with them and without them, existential, abstract ideas of love, acceptance, and self-realization.

It’s not out of the blue that these two films are very related, as Charlie Kaufman claimed 8 ½ as a large inspiration for the film. Yet, there is a relation between not only our somewhat uninviting narrator with a mission of others acceptance. Day for Night explores a more group-oriented view of the creative process. The film’s crew, surrounded by beautiful young people doing beautiful young people things, find themselves lost in an entanglement of unrequited love, dissatisfying marriages, and a lack of budget.

Arguably the biggest difference of 8 ½ and Synecdoche, New York, and Day for Night is the relation of the unfilled void to the man. Both 8 ½ and Synecdoche, New York include a hyper-first-person exploration of the pressure of the creative process, while in Day for Night, the jumbled point-of-view explores and opens the idea of the film-making process as a conglomerate of apprehensive, over-sexualized and overdramatic actors and crew. Our director is still relevant, but he is one of the most relative characters; he attempts to solve the actors problems instead of getting lost in this self-centrism. It still proves to be meta-referential, as the other two films are, when he uses a personal phrase in his film that actress Julie Baker tells him in private. This is among the only met-referential phrase in the film though, applying a further departure from films like 8 ½ and Synecdoche, New York.

An interesting relation of these films includes the use of deep-space composition. Fellini is applauded for this film, known as one of the most influential made, and it’s attention to detail. Neither Synecdoche, New York or Day for Night can attempt to suffice it’s tenacity or intrepidity to create this existential of a film, not yet seen in the mainstream at this time. Synecdoche, New York’s Charlie Kaufman knows film, as he worked on the masterpieces of thought-provoking films, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Being John Malkovich, and includes uses of deep-space in a skillful way, as in the scene where we are first, very briefly, introduced to Caden’s “doppleganger” actor playing himself. We see a incredibly brief shot of this at a point when Caden and Hazel walk around his life-size replica of New York City for his play. Without a second watch, the viewer may not notice this, making this film even more observational. Day for Night’s very meta deep-space use comes from the film within the film, when Julie, or Pamela in the creation, waves at her fake in-laws from an organized and an artificial window made simply for that shot. This attention to detail can highlight each of the film’s pragmatic and interpersonal view of the hardships of creating these personal scenes.

With no background in self-revelations or meta-referential themes in film (or in life, may I add), a viewer’s head may feel a bit drained after watching these films. As “meta” as these films get, the average viewer does not think of what goes into the creative process, and these film’s perfectly explore the director/actor degradation of self, family, and thought.