Cinemastudies; Formalism in film

Wow, it must be finals time at the U of Me film school (faculty = me, myself & I)! I'm cranking out these essays like there's no tomorrow! It's a nice way to study though - since I'm not enrolled in an actual school, and completely self-educated, I can post my essays and notes here rather than turning them in to be graded, and maybe get some feedback or discussion. I find just reading and thinking about this stuff isn't really enough - it's really necessary to write about it to make it sink in. (And hey, how cool to do an essay that includes film clips!??)

I'm still riding on a high that all started when I discovered Madame Tutli-Putli, which supercharged my Lighting obsession, and then led into von Sternberg studies, which has now led me, through Montage, back to the seminal Eisenstein and the Soviet Formalist filmmakers. Some time ago I had read Film Form and a few other books by/about Eisenstein, and have ever since been fascinated by his concepts of montage. But watching his films is a bit difficult, or rather unenjoyable for the most part. I think it's because he's such a complete Formalist - he treats filmmaking almost more like a science than an art, and eschews realism almost entirely in favor of a more synthetic approach where he creates a new reality through juxtaposition and opposition of shots in editing. He considers film a language, with individual shots the words, and he believes they can be linked together in an intelligible way to create sentences. To me this is going too far.... visual images, and especially moving images, are not the same as words or pure symbols (though they can certainly carry strong symbolism at times). His colleague Pudovkin was another of the Soviet Formalists, and also favored montage, though his wasn't so rigidly structured. He gave more focus to the actors and the stories, as opposed to Eisenstein, who's main character was usually "the populace" and for whom acting hardly factored in. Eisenstein believed in finding actors who look the part, using whatever makeup and costuming was necessary, and then treating them like chess pieces on a board. He would tell them exactly how to move, what shapes to make with their arms and bodies. Von Sternberg (a later Formalist and a student of Eisenstein's film theories) did much the same thing, though he (like Pudovkin) had main characters and told stories (however incoherent they might be on the surface). He (V. S.) did use montage at times, like that brilliant sequence I posted in the last entry, and used a sort of synthetic language of film, but in a much more enjoyable and natural way IMO.

Perhaps I should explain what formalism is.

Lately I've been reading a textbook called Film Art: An Introduction by David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson. It begins by describing in minute detail the elements that go into a film - THE FRAME, THE SHOT, and THE SCENE, and how they work together. It also discusses Mise-en-Scene (a fancy French film-critic term that takes a while to understand, but that is often abused by snobby critics and has become almost meaningless through misuse). These are some of the Formal elements of film, along with similarity/dissimilarity, unity/disunity, composition, etc. A formalist is basically a director who pays a lot of attention to these elements and how they can be manipulated, as opposed to a Realist, who makes films to be as realistic as possible - a realist will concentrate on accurate setting and portrayal, believable story, and continuity. Realism is the predominant technique in Hollywood filmmaking, while Formalism tends to hang out in the Indies, the foreign flicks, and arthouse films. Of course, there''s no clear and sharp demarcation between the two schools - each contains the other in some degree, but a film can generally be determined to be primarily one or the other.

Formalists in other artistic fields would include Picasso, The Beatles and Johan Sebastian Bach to mention just a few (and these guys are some of my favorites - well The Beatles and Bach anyway - not so much Picasso). They're people who pay attention to the Structure of art.

Now, (and here's the crux of this entry - the reason I'm writing it) - I don't consider myself in any way a complete formalist, but I am excited by the possibilities it offers, and to some extent I think it's the way I want to approach filmmaking. Some clues that led me to this deduction - I have always stuggled with narrative storytelling (a hallmark of realism) and tend instead to make short tests, each with its own focus on some technique or approach (in other words - scenes). I've always been excited about the possibilities of montage (though I don't believe it can be quite what Eisenstein envisioned). I tend toward a lot of editing (formalism) as opposed to deep space and long shots (realism). And I've often said that I think the path of my development lies, not in making complete films one after the other, but in learning about first the shot (tests and sketches), then the scene (how shots work together to become more than the sum of their parts) and finally I feel I'll understand how to put it all together to make a film. Little did I realize I was describing a very formalist approach!

Interestingly (revealingly?) many formalist directors are also film theorists and critics. Take into account how much theorizing and criticizing I tend to do.... and the picture becomes clear.

Here's what really inspired me to write this. As I was reading away the other night, deep into a long section on The Frame (the border of the movie screen, not an individual image) I began to get excited about the idea of the moving frame - the way simply by moving the camera through your set(s) (either by means of tracking/panning, or by cutting between isolated camera positions) you can create a sense of story in an otherwise static scene. You control what the viewer sees and when - and in that way you can set up a mystery, or answer questions, or make people think about elements outside the scene.... in other words you can create a lot of drama by this simple expedient. It made me start to think about the movie I'm supposed to be working on (the one that suffered so many depressing setbacks and made me lose my motivation) - and yes - I actually started to get excited about it once again! It's been a year since I felt that tingle when I thought about the film, but now it's back! Yes!!! My strategy seems to have worked - the plan was to spend some time doing other things and try to work up some inspiration and motivation again (hence the lighting and film studies). And suddenly, out of nowhere, while reading about something completely unrelated - whammo!! inspiration strikes like a lightning bolt!

Ok, now that I've got that out of my system, I plan to bust out the Radke puppets and start making some props for the film. Oh, I should also mention - the idea of moving the camera through the set also helped me to think about how the set needs to be designed. I haven't worked it out yet, but now I have an idea how to approach it (starting from Formal elements).

I also thought by posting this I might help some other people who wonder why they have such a hard time coming up with realistic narrative ideas and maybe like to think about filmmaking almost like a puzzle or a game or a cypher. If you fall into this camp, do a little websearching - look into the Soviet Formalist directors, or look into film theory. You might begin to find a new way to approach it that appeals to you more.

Cinemastudies; Symbolism in von Sternberg

hangmen.mov 8.3MB (click image for movie clip)

I couldn't bring myself to edit all this great material down into one trailer for Scarlet Empress, so I decided to post several entire scenes that demonstrate von Sternberg's brilliance as a cinematographer (and set designer, costume designer, writer, director, editor, etc etc etc). A little ways below, I have some analysis of these clips, but first I grabbed the entire article by Donato Totaro from the Offscreen website. I linked to it at the bottom of yesterday's blog, but in case you're one of those who don't follow the links - I'd recommend you first click each of the images and start all the clips downloading to your computer, and as they load read what Donato has to say. It will take a few minutes. Then you can dig in and feast your senses on the concentrated brilliance (and laugh at the shoddy dialogue). See ya in a bit then....

"Josef von Sternberg once said that he would not mind if his films were projected upside down, so much was his contempt for 'conventional' Hollywood storytelling. The Scarlet Empress, his sixth and penultimate teaming with his sinful alter ego Marlene Dietrich, is perhaps the most audaciously perverse film to have ever come out of a major Hollywood studio (Paramount in this case). One can surely find a stranger or weirder film in the bowels of marginalized film productions of the time (independent studios, one-shots, poverty row studios, etc.), but would be hard pressed to come up with a challenger from the top ranking studios. Granted that Paramount was always more willing than other studios to forego 'kulture' for the sake of idiosyncratic visions. As evidenced by the string of 'anarchistic' comedies they produced in the early thirties (W.C. Fields, the Marx Brothers, Mae West, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Wheeler and Woolsey). The Scarlet Empress, 'based' on the diaries of Catherine the Great, is Sternberg's version of 18th century Russia, much like his reconstructions of other far away exotic locations (Morocco, Shanghai, the Japanese island Anatahan, Macao). In other words, if you are looking for history with a capital H, look elsewhere. This is pure historical fantasy, with Sternberg's thematic obsessions (sex-as-power, sadism/masochism, reason vs. emotion) and painterly qualities holding rein over historical accuracy (although there are at least four innuendo references to horses that refer to Catherine the Great's apparent 'taste' for horses and her reputed death under the weight of a horse). The production may tell us that we are in 18th century Russia, but everything from Sternberg's mixing of art design styles (Byzantine, Rococo, Expressionist) to the fluctuations in acting style tell us otherwise. For example, some of the minor characters attempt to speak (albeit with American accents) in a pre-20th century argot, but Louise Dresser's snappy delivery as the tempestuous Empress Elizabeth is more fitting of a 1930's screwball comedy. In fact, the varying acting styles is one of the purest joys of this film. From Dietrich's wide-eyed innocence as the young Sophia, to her crazed gaze in the concluding shots, the heavy sexualized breathing patterns of Dietrich and Ruthelma Stevens as Countess Elizabeth, Sam Jaffe's over the top lunatic Peter the Grand Duke who, with his wide-eyed/mouthed expression and golden locks would not look out of place next to Chico and Groucho, and John Lodge's admirably wooden performance as Count Alexei.

Sternberg subtly projects on off-kilter world right from the beginning of the film. A close examination of the young Sophia's position in her bed, awkwardly twisted to face the family doctor and with a hand so awkwardly positioned underneath her head that it can not possibly be her own, is a visual indication of the bizarre 'Great Destiny' which awaits her. A destiny which even as a young child she envisions, when she not so innocently asks "What is a hangman...can I ever become a hangman?" and we are treated to a child's-eyed (we assume) montage view of the torturous travails of a court executioner. This striking montage includes lateral tracking shots of the executioner placing victims on a chopping block and then retreating in reverse as he decapitates them one by one, images of nude women burning at the stake, and being taken out of an Iron Curtain. The fleeting images we see of the nude women burning at the stakes, arms tied above their heads, sweating profusely, are as sexually charged as any image of the period. The imagery throughout this montage, which links sexuality to violence, foreshadows Catherine's eventual rise to the throne. As does the wonderful dissolve from the end of this montage, a huge close-up of a bell with a man as a human bell clapper, to the graphically matched image of Sophia's openly splayed dress as she plays on the swings. It is amazing to know that this scene (and the whole film) passed through the Production Code. Apparently the film was completed just prior to the enforcement of the Production Code (1933/34) and somehow managed to pass with their seal of approval.

Rather than the conventional linear cause and effect manner of telling a story, Sternberg advances the narrative through moments and scenes that echo and mirror each other, achieving a rhyming doubling effect. For example, soon after the film introduces Dietrich as the young Sophia, we see her prancing down the stairs to meet the Count Alexei, with the camera craning down to follow. This wide-eyed, child-like naivete is contrasted to the final scene, where Dietrich as the power hungry Catherine the Great rides a horse up the stairs to assume her position on the throne (and with her mad grin and jerky head movements takes on the physical characteristics of the Sam Jaffe's mad Grand Duke). Another key doubling effect comes in the two nearly identical bed chamber scenes. Catherine repeats moment by moment, gesture by gesture, the scene where the Empress Elizabeth tells her to blow out all the candles in her room and go through a secret passageway to tell the man in waiting he can enter her bedroom. The man of course is Count Alexei, the man Catherine has fallen in love with. The scene, filmed in stark, ominous shadows, becomes the defining moment for Catherine, where she loses any dreams of idealistic love she may have still harbored, and gleefully accepts her 'great destiny.' The moment, which Freud would call the 'primal scene,' is repeated with Catherine in the position of Elizabeth, and Count Alexei in her former role of humiliated subject. The transition becomes complete in the next scene, a stunningly photographed, highly stylized setpiece where Catherine first uses the sexuality she will exploit to attain political power by seducing the head of night patrol, Lieutenant Dimitri (Gerald Fielding). The scene begins with Catherine tossing a locket containing a photograph of Alexei out her bedroom window onto the front yard of the estate grounds (as a student pointed out in my class, a photograph in 18th century Russia is quite the jarring effect!). This cuts to five close-up shots of the locket falling through a tree, with the overall effect attaining a timeless quality in the way the seasons seem to change through the state of the tree. Catherine continues out into the front yard in search of the locket, with the camera tracking from behind a baroque, twisted white tree which stands in stark contrast to the pools of darkness. Throughout this scene Dietrich is filmed in silhouette, the only such time, to suggest the dark side of her nature which is soon to take over her being.

Sternberg's disdain for conventional narrative extends to the soundtrack. Many key scenes are played without any dialogue, including one stretch of nearly ten minutes (the wedding scene and the banquet scene, with a brief scene of her bed being blessed), and the concluding scenes leading to the ascension of Catherine to the throne (murder of the Grand Duke, montage of the populace rebelling, shots of horses riding into the castle up to the throne).

Criterion's presentation of this film on DVD is as handsome as anything they have done, or, up to their usual standards. The image quality of the new digital transfer is stunning. The film is segmented into 19 chapter breaks and bonus material includes production stills and lobby cards and a 20 minute documentary taken from a 1967 BBC broadcast called The World of Josef von Sternberg. The documentary was filmed during Sternberg's appearance in London to promote the release of his autobiography, Fun in a Chinese Laundry. The documentary alternates between Sternberg fielding questions from a very young Kevin Brownlow, mainly on his visual style, and footage of Sternberg demonstrating a lighting set-up to some young, eager film students. The latter is quite funny, as we are treated to glimpses of Sternberg's apparent autocratic demeanor, as he crassly blurts out orders on where to put the lights, position reflecting panels, etc. Whether this is Sternberg, or Sternberg playing 'Sternberg' is hard to tell, but it is fun nonetheless. The female model that is being lit, attractive and photogenic, seems overwhelmed by it all, and she never utters a word. I have no doubt that, since then, the woman has raised a few eyebrows by casually mentioning that she shares something with Marlene Dietrich: they were both photographed by Josef von Sternberg!" - Donato Totaro

Hey there! Back again! Sorry this setup is a bit clumsy, but I wanted a pic right at the top to make my blog all purty, and the analysis for that scene ended up down here. Hope you can understand. Alrighty then - analysis for the clip I call Hangmen....

We begin with Little Sophia in her bed, being read to. At this point, she's already destined to one day become Empress of all Russia (and a most particularly cruel one at that!), and her little head is being filled with historical and political nuggets to prepare her for it I suppose. Thankfully the voiceover fades, and we only see the images that drift through the little girl's head - images of torture and mayhem. Strange stuff to be reading to a sweet little girl as she clutches her dolly, but then this is the future Empress, and more importantly, von Sternberg is establishing his code of symbolism for us. Through the course of the movie we watch the innocent, wide-eyed Sophia gradually transformed into the cruel, ruthless tyrant infamous for bloodlust (and regular lust too) and who reputedly (I'll say it because those other guys were too timid) died under a stallion while engaging in certain - ahem - well, sexual acts with it. There - I said it! This is why several times throughout the film V. S. includes horses in his mise-en-scene, always as strongly symbolic elements, and to foreshadow her bizarre death.

This is the most brilliant symbolic alchemy I've ever witnessed in any movie - this one brief scene that sees Sophia begin as a little girl clutching her dolly in bed and ends with her as a young woman laughing and being pushed on a swing, the two images separated by a montage of torture that is - not gruesome or realistic really - in fact it's more like Von Sternberg's nearly pornographic fantasy of torture - and he manages to link sex, torture, bells and hoopskirts all into one unforgettable stew. The first stage of this alchemy is when we see Sophia dissolve into an image of an Iron Maiden (so fitting! And note how long he holds on the twinned image)... but wait - there's something weird about this particular Iron Maiden. It's a strange shape - not very efficient really. It seems to bell out at the bottom, like - well, rather like a bell. Or a woman's hoop skirt. Forget for the moment that this design would fail to properly torment the enclosed prisoner - mere matters of realism or historical accuracy aren't important at all in Von Sternberg's world. What's far more important is symbolism - very much as in dreams. His films are like dreams, and this is undoubtedly the wettest of them all! And not so much for the nude women featured throughout the torture sequence, but much more so for the symbolic defiling and sexualization of Sophia and her subsequent defiling and sexual subjugation of men in the service of her power. What saves it from being pure sexual fantasy is the fact that - dammit - this really is how power sometimes works! And we all know it. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but at the same time it corrupts.

I've already discussed Subtext in V. S.'s films - but to be more explicit - the subtext is sexual. It's the same subtext that exists sometimes in real life. We've all been there - meet the right person, somebody who just does it for you, and suddenly life lights up, even if all she does is say hi to you a certain way, or smile at you. This real life magic is what he captures. There's a sort of secret language that passes between you - no matter what banal words you're spouting off - maybe you're discussing the weather but your heart is swelling three times too big to fit in your chest, and you know she knows it, and the word "rain" suddenly takes on a powerful new meaning from that moment on. Well that's how symbolism works in his films. Certain images, sounds, and ideas are introduced alongside more powerful (sexual) stimulus, and then when we encounter these same symbols later in the film, we associate them with that image. Wow, I'm really rambling, aren't i?! Here's what I"m trying to say -

That bell shape of the iron maiden - it links torture to bell imagery, and also (as we'll see in a moment) to hoop skirts and to sexual subjugation. All at the same time. Like dream imagery, which Freud pointed out often carries many layers of meaning simultaneously. Ok, then we have torture, more torture, lots of nekkit women, some nekkit men, and suddenly - out of nowhere (the most brilliant image I've ever seen onscreen) an upside-down man hung inside a bell acting as a clapper!!! Whoah! See what I mean!!??!! Brilliant! But not to be satisfied with even this level of symbolic brilliance, Von S pushes it even further, into the complete sublime - by then dissolving to Sophia, now a young woman (in a hoop skirt, her costume for the rest of the film) swinging back and forth just like the bell!!!! I'm stunned by this magnificent imagery... by its power and it's economy. "The simplicity of genius" indeed!!! And not just in lighting! All in one fell swoop, he's estasblished several powerful motifs that will recur throughout the film. A motif simply means a recurring image, sound, or any recurring theme in a film. Generally when something is repeated in a film, especially if it's several times, or if there's some small difference each time, it's an important part of the film's symbolism and should be noted as such. Oh, and one final iconic image that I'm sure our feminists wouldn't fail to miss.... the tortured male inside the "iron hoopskirt" becomes her phallic symbol as well. Infreakincridble!!!! Still stunned. *** ~ Ok, this may or may not have been intended by V. S., but I just got a whole complex of imagery associations revolving around the use of the phrase (just before the clip begins) "can I be a hangman?" used by a female - especially in conjunction with that indelible image of the man hanging inside the bell, and with Jack Smith's assertion that Dietrich is the transsexual projection of von Sternberg. This is a supremely dreamlike element - so often in dreams a word or a phrase just isn't quite right (or is completley wrong) but we accept it, and it takes on a whole passel of associations. The use of the term hangman really isn't right here - no Czar ever did their own execution work! Well, possibly, given the macabr nature of some of them, but you know what I mean.


dingding.mov 3.7MB

Ok, here, we see a repetition of the bell symbolism. Sophia is of course wearing the now powerfully charged hoopskirt, and when she grabs the rope and swings on it a bit - well, need I even say it? You can almost hear the bells and the screams in your head. She's beginning to learn how to seduce, which will be key to her power later. "Hey there handsome - come inside my iron maidenskirt!!!"


candles.mov 3.9MB

Can you detect the bell symbolism in this scene? It's much subtler this time - but it's there. Mostly though, I included this scene for its sheer beauty. The Man himself designed all the statues and the incredible lighting. What always amazes me when watching this film is the way he creates zones of light and shadow and then moves the actors through them in ways that carry meaning. Dietrich's glowing face slowly emerges from shadow into the light, she blows out another candle, and slides back to darkness and secrecy. Oh, the bell symbolism - did you figure it out? The clock chimes - tiny bell sounds, and ironic that the figures seem (by their appearing just when they do alongside the Empress' words) to represent a queue of men lining up to enter her 'chamber'. I mean the current empress, the older woman. At this point Sophia is not yet empress though her name has been changes to Catherine. And I think this scene takes place in Gobo Heaven. ;) Also, the spoken words here take on a dreamlike semblance - a quiet, gentle undertone, a sussuruss of almost irrelevant sound but with a powerful meaning that emerges toward the end. Really, I'm mesmerized by the dreamlike imagery (both visual and audio, well and in all respects really) V. S. gets into this film!


lovers.mov 4.5MB

I debated tossing this one out. It's not strong cinematographywise or in any way really, except that it demonstrates Sternberg's constant return to fetishism. Oh, and it also clearly demonstrates just how bad the dialogue can get in his films! But who's listening by this point? And Man, does Dietrich look good here!


path.mov 1.0MB

No real symbolism in this or the next clip - they're just excellent little shots that fill me with delight to see. How simple could it be to walk someone down a short path? But not being one to pass up an opportunity, our man put together this visually awesome path, a marvel of light and shadow, twisting branches, ins and outs, and then danced our bell-skirted heroine along it delightfully. Trust me, he's well aware of the visual power of movement, especially movement through zones of light and shadow artfully arranged, and with the addition of a few playful spins of the skirt. This same path returns later under much more sinister circumstances, so now it's established in the viewer's mind's eye as a nice happy path which he can then defile with treachery and sexual power games. Each symbol associated with her happiness gets the same vile treatment eventually. He's truly a filmmaker's filmmaker.


flag.mov 752kb

Beautiful beautiful beautiful!!! Reminds me of Eisenstein. In fact, there's a lot about this film that reminds me of Ivan the Terrible - but then they are both about Russia in ages agone, with its incredible architecture and iconography (this one a bit later obviously, since Ivan was included in the book at the beginning). Except where Ivan makes gorgeous use of vast shimmering spaces, Scarlet Empress is crowded and flattened - even claustrophobic. In fact, speaking of Eisenstein, I must mention that von Sternberg seems to be his worthiest successor in the art of montage. In fact, I daresay - that awesome montage sequence at the beginning of Scarlet Empress is better than any I've seen by Eisenstein or anyone! I've heard it argued that you really can't link up ideas and present them in such a way that adding two together creates a new idea - but dangit, we just saw it happen! And I think anybody who's paying attention would get that sequence, though on the first and maybe second viewing they might be too stunned by the sheer visual power to even think about meaning.

I wish I had unlimited time and server space - I would have included a few shots with Von Sternberg's trademark gauze and lace, which he likes to hang across his sets in such a way that they catch the light beautifully, separate areas and people while remaining transparent, and often they're in very close proximity to candles or torches, emphasizing the vulnerability of such fabrics to fire. Ah, but then I must restrict myself to what I've already written. But hey, do yourself a tremendous favor - if this appeals to you one tenth as much as it does to me, rent or buy the DVD - trust me, it looks a lot better than the dark, grainy little versions I posted!


***
Newsflash!!!!

Ok, I seriously doubt anybody is looking at this post now, so long after I wrote it, but you never know (and this way my conscience is clear). I just discovered that Eisenstein saw Scarlet Empress and was inspired to make Ivan the Terrible by it!!!!!! Somehow I never imagined Von Sternberg making films during Eisenstein's reign, but they must have overlapped (I think, thanks to Sternberg's thoroughly modern visual sense his films seem much more recnt than Eisensteins - I tend to forget just how early Sternberg came along and indelibly stamped filmmaking with his iconic presence). And as much as I respect Eisenstein for his ideas, I find most of his films difficult to watch. Ivan the Terrible is the exception..... visually stunning and rich, unlike his more sparse earlier efforts where the Russian populace was the subject and he was trying to capture the rustic simplicity of everyday life and everyday heroism. Knowing this, I want to watch Ivan again (any excuse will do!) and see how many threads I can find linking it with Sternberg.

Cinemastudies: Montage in Motion

Street of Crocodiles



Prison Sex video


Hope the title isn't too misleading - this isn't intended to be a complete study of montage in motion, just a comparison between two sequences to see what we can learn by analysing them. I've chosen two similar(ish) sequences from two excellent films; Street of Crocodiles by the Quays and Tool's Prison Sex video. It's obvious the Tool videos are strongly influenced by the work of the Quays, but it's also obvious that the directors/animators have tried to go their own way, as difficult as that is under the monumental infuence of something so startlingly original and powerful. In this day and age, with the work of the Quays becoming more and more well-known, anyone influenced by them is in the same boat as the fantasy illustrators of the 70's who labored in the mighty shadow of Frank Frazetta.... it's impossible to do anything that isn't either a tribute to (or in some cases outright plagiarism) or a reaction against that work. And that's the crux of the problem faced by so many of us animators who are fascinated by the Quays - how to break away and not end up copying them!

But I digress - that isn't the point of this entry. Rather I want to go in-depth and really analyse what's happening in each of these clips, at least from a cinematography viewpoint.

One of the major differences is in the design of the set for each clip. As the Quays stated in an interview, they like to (and I paraphrase as well as my memory allows): " design the decor in such a way that the action of the scene can be framed through the portals of the architecture of the set". And this does always seem to be the case in their films - we're usually seeing puppets through framing devices like windows or doorways, archways, or something similar. It makes the sapce seem more complete, or in theatrical terms completes "the illusion of the fourth wall". In the Tool video we only see a corner consisting of two walls meeting, which comes across as rather bare in contrast (not that it's really fair to compare the two, I do it only for purposes of comparison and contrast in order to point out things that might be hard to express otherwise). So already, before even introducing a puppet or movement of any kind, we see the excellent design aesthetic of the Quays and how important it is in creating their little worlds. I think it would be fair to say that at least 99 percent of all stopmotion films fall into the category opf the Tool clip, utilising a simple three wall configuration. Let's face it, it's a heck of a lot easier to build and to animate in!

The next immediately apparent difference to me is in the puppets. Quay puppets are cobbled together from scavenged pieces of antique dolls, bringing to bear a certain sense of antiquity and of stylishness that's lacking in (again) 99% of stopmotion films. In nmoist stopmo productions the puppets are freshly cast from molds or built up, and the aesthetic is toylike - super-clean and brightly painted, or else it's an attempt at realism as is the case in more naturalistic creatures of the Harryhausen/O'Brien ilk. I know it sounds like I;m knocking these types of puppets... I really don't mean to! It's just so rare to run across something at the level of what the Quays do, and it's hard not to let the praise seep into my rhetoric. Here's a thought that once again relates to my iodea of "Things that work well (in stopmotion) and things that don't" (which was originally a result of studying Quay films) - how hard do you suppose it was to build that puppet from Street of Crocodiles compared to the (from what I understand) almost 4 foot tall silicone puppet in the Prison Sex video? I believe the Quays will use (often mismatched) parts of old dolls or puppets and insert custom-made joints between them. They both make puppets, and I assume they're making ball and socket joints and somehow fitting them into the parts. If you study the puppets you notice the proportioning isn't right, in fact it's downright bizarre.... necks are twice as long as they should be, wrists don't bend in the right place. These are practically the only determining factors in the design of most puppets fabricated specifically for a production, within the limitations imposed by the materials and size of joints needed. And yet somehow the Quay puppets come out looking more natural, more "right" than even the most carefully designed and painstakingly fabricated rubber puppets. At least for their intended purpose... I'm sure a Quay puppet wouldn't look right wandering around in a Tim Burton film, nor would Jack Skellington or the Corpse Bride be at home in a Quay film. I think it works because the Quays are so true to their "found object" aesthetic. Just as when they build a set they don't attempt to imitate realistic textures or proportions.... "The Zone" for Street of Crocodiles, while built to represent a dilapidated and rundown warehouse district was far from naturalistic. Instead they basically used large sheets of material (I'm assuming wood for the most part, though there were also sheets of grimy glass) on which were applied various widgets and textures and some attempt was made to create a surrealistic sense of a warehouse district. An approach like this is more organic and process-oriented than the more fastidious and painstaking process that begins by designing a set and then building it so that realism is imitated. I still wince when I remember how much effort and time went into just making two brick-textured panels for my Race the Wind tests a while back! Yeesh! Then I look at the old Hat Tip Test where all I did was pour out some Durham's Rock Hard Water Putty onto a sheet of cardboard and press in a bricklike texture with the edge of a lathboard and it looks even better! somehow it suits the aesthetic better too.

Ok, on to the fun stuff! this is the main point I want to make - the use of montage technique in each of these clips. In Street of Crocodiles it's subtle and sophisticated, conveying a continual sense of movement through space (albeit a twisting motion) whereas in the Tool video it's patchy and fails to really move in any direction. I'll examine my reasons for saying this, but first a bit of quicktime lore to help you get the best use out of this exercise - the beauty of using quicktime for an animated clip like this is that you can pause it by tapping your space bar, and then progress frame by frame either forward or reverse by using the arrow keys. I don't know of another type of online video viewer that allows this. Also, to really examine the animation or the cinematography closely, turn the volume all the way down so you're not distracted by sound. As you read each part of my commentary you might want to go back and watch the part I'm discussing. Ok, on to our discussion....

Street of Crocodiles clip:
We begin with a view of/through a sheet of dirty glass. Already this is multi-layered, because you're seeing the surface of the glass as well as what's beyond it. The camera is in motion, seeming to seek out something. The camera moves in the quay films always seem to be active, seeking something - be it the next interesting object or area, the next puppet to be introduced, or a reaction shot looking toward some sudden action. This makes the camera a sort of narrator, and brings the viewer into the film almost actively, or rather as if he's being led through it by a storyteller. It's like being on a guided tour rather than just wandering the streets on your own not knowing where to look next. So often when i see montage or camera movement used in movies these days it's completely unmotivated, apparently just for the sake of making a movie more exciting like a roller coaster ride. But the Quays are very "old school", and use camera movement only to make a point.

So, we begin with the camera drifting sort of aimlessly across this expanse of dirty glass, while something mysterious is pulsating slowly behnd it (or is it reflected on the front, who can tell? Another level of mystery). The pulsations have an almost living quality to them, like the rhythm of a heartbeat. This parallels certain other rhythmic movements they've populated this wasteland with, all seeming to be dictated by the rhythm of the "rubberband cutting machine" at the heart of "the zone". Only for a second is the camera's wandering aimless, then it's suddenly drawn by the appearance of our nameless hero, who's on the other side of the glass peering through it intently (almost as if looking out at us, but trust the Quays never to do anything so tacky). Not only is he looking through the glass, but he's rubbing a tiny hand against it, strengthening its tactile quality and giving the impression of maybe wanting to wipe away some of the grime to see better through it. Like the camera before spotting him he's looking around kind of aimlessly at first, then suddenly seems to spot something. He whirls, lifting to more completely fill the scene. It's a beautiful entrance, done with incredible subtlety. He sees something else on the other side, whirls again, and rises even more fully into view, changing the composition. He rapidly flees this shot to appear in the next, raptly intent on whatever's caught his attention. He keeps this behavior up, looking into windows on either side of the street, as if fascinated by the strange things he sees in these shops. The rhythm of his movements is important... as in a lot of european animation there's a sort of flow/pause/flow quality, fluid and graceful, but punctuated by sudden abrupt changes of direction or complete reversals (in the sequence there don't seem to be any complete reversals, which would interrupt the constant forward progression, though at times he spins into almost the opposite direction> It's important to note though that even when he does this, he seems to actually be still moving forward in a twisting path dictated by his random noticing of shiny things in shop windows). His movements, like those of the camera util spotting him, are exploratory, leading him deeper into this glass maze. This section serves as a transition from one part of the film to the next, leading him (and us along with him) into the tailor's shop, where the rest of it takes place. Cutting is always "on the action", meaning an action will begin in one shot, an action that would take the character out of that shot, and when the next camera setup is revealed that same action is continuing. It helps make cuts less visible, or to bridge them smoothly. If he whirls and is leaving a frame off the left edge, he enters the next frame from the right, still moving toward the left. It's continuity in effect.

He dodges across the street and looks in the opposite glass wall, and this time there's a reflection of him, adding yet again to the sense of his being actually enclosed in this glass space. Note the way he leans so far forward, his torso diagonal. So often puppets walk around upright and just stroll lazily from one place to the next. This guy always seems to be moving dynamically - rising into a shot or dropping out of it as if going to his knees for a better look. He spins into a shot and whirls out. Its like a dance, graceful and elegant. And in fact, the Quays always say they work from a very musical standpoint. Their action is in rsponse to musical and auditory cues, or rhythmical like music, rather than being propelled by drama or narrative.

And the final shot of this sequece adds another level of mystery and artifice, when it's revealed that what you at first think is the puppet himself is actually only his reflection, and when that spins off the edge of the shot the hand of the real puppet glides in, closer and still continuing the same twisting motion begun by it's reflected doppleganger. Absolutely brilliant! And "All done with mirrors"! This kind of motion couldn't be pre=planned and storyboarded... I believe it could only occur when you've got your set put together and you play arpund a bit with the camera and puppet, watching carefully for new possibilities. That's one of the greatest strengths the Quays have, their ability to 'listen' to a puppet, to notice the possibilities offered by a particular setup. If you're working from a strict storyboard you're blind and deaf to those possibilities.

finally, (though I already sort of covered this it bears re-examining) think about the way the puppet moves through space - the flat space of the frame in each shot, as well as the 3 dimensional space of the set. He's down low, only the top of his head and a hand visible, then he rises up (the movement motivated by his exploring of the set) to move more fully into the center of the composition, to become the focus of it as it were. Then he moves from a half-up shot to an extreme closeup, focus on his eyes, giving the impression of thought going on (because he's exploring and that's made palpable by use of cinematography and staging). And when you examine his movement, be it across the flat surface of the computer monitor or through the fully 3-dimensional space of the set, he's always twisting and snaking forward. I could go on and on, but this is long enough already! Time to move on....

Prison Sex video
First let me say, I Like this video, though I'm basically using this sequence to illustrate some common mistakes in cinematography (or what amount to mistakes when compared to the sublime work we've just seen). I won't examine this one as in-depth as I did the Quay clip (you can breathe easier now - it's almost over!). I feel like what we have here is a typical american action-movie montage, like sopmething where you'd expect to see an explosion or a car crash, maybe with the hero and his girl flying in slow motion through the air toward camera in front of it.

We begin with three successive shots of - essentially the same motion from differnet camera angles. It all takes place in this simple corner set, and the movement is completely unmotivated. Why is this puppet standing up (over and over again)? We don't know. I suppose it's her entrance, but nowhere near as effective as that brilliant scene just analysed (though that wasn't even our hero's entrance, just his entrance into that particular sequence). The standing-up motion is kind of dull to begin with, rising from a hump-backed lump. It isn't visually compelling enough to warrant three successive views. And the use of three separate camera angles to shoot the same action is annoying to me - it's what's done as I said in action movies to ensure good coverage of an unrepeatable event like an explosion or a crash, and today's rather unimaginative directors simply don't want to choose between all the coverage, so instead they show each shot one after the other, doubtless thinking it's exciting and that it increases the film's dynamism and appeal. Wrong! It could, if it was done effectively, with continuous motion as was demonstrated in the Quay clip, but instead we see part of the action, then in the next shot it's rewound back to the first frame and we have to watch it again. And again...... point taken I trust. What I'm saying is, once the character has stood up, why do we want to see her crouching down again/! It's self-thwarting behavior... it takes us back to square one. In a game, if you keep going back to square one it means you're not doing well.

There's something else I find annoying about this clip as well.... it's about the positioning of the puppet relative to the frame. She always seems to be centered and upright, after completing the standing up gesture. Take the shot where her hands are right in front of the camera in extreme closeup.... there's a centeredness to them as well. Each hand takes up half of the screen space, divided neatly across the center. They move in opposite directions, but at exactly the same rate, so the movement balances out any dynamism it could have had. It IS a neat visual, but could have been so much more powerful from a different camera angle or with a little shifting of visual elements. Instead it becomes like a simple gate opening, revealing the puppet standing perfectly upright and centered behind it. And then the final shot - where I ended the clip. Something annoying about it as well to me. She's not centered now - or is she? The head is off to one side, and looking away at an angle, but then up comes the hand and now head and hand are perfectly balanced against each other, each occupying the center of its screen section. And that final shot (of my clip).... does anyone really stand like that? I mean even in mid-gesture, with the hand pointing straight up and palm flat directly forward? It just seems really fake and unnatural to me. As bizarre as some of the Crocodile man's movements were, they always felt natural and were motivated.

Ok, guess I'll wrap this up now. See ya next time!