The Bridge of Awe

"Art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self."

-Jean-Luc Godard













Movies for art or movies for entertainment; it's an impossible conundrum.  Jean-Luc Godard despises mainstream films.  He feels the studio systems in his native France and Hollywood shackle directors, making them no more than anonymous cogs in the meat grinder.  The catalyst behind the French New Wave was for the director to author their own film; to create art as an act of love.  Love in film is expressed through the mending of acting, photography, music and editing. This is a nice and prim view of film from a cinephile's standpoint.  Too bad parents don't share this same vantage point; on a Saturday afternoon with their screaming brood they're just looking for quick entertainment.  Even if it cost $30, momentary silence is priceless.  When Michael Bay's latest deafening, pyroshow disguised as a movie grosses a billion dollars worldwide or a sentient raccoon headlines a multi-million dollar blockbuster, what does love have to do with it?  Don't get me wrong, I love seeing a walking, talking, gun-toting raccoon as much as the next guy but the hotel scene in Godard's Breathless is one of my all-time favorite scenes.  Casual moviegoers do not just live for spectacle; people still desire to see romantic comedies, thrillers and the buzz-worthy indie film.  There's also nothing wrong with a film snob who devours Lars von Trier's filmography but still loves chowing down on some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action.  The chasm between artistry and entertainment is bridged by awe. 

Growing up, we are forced to abandon our imaginations; those wonderful playgrounds of awe.  Movies represent a yearning to see something grand.  It can be hard to relate to Superman; after all, he crushes bullets with his eye.  He's an alien who flies through the sky and shoots lasers from his eyes.  For all intents and purposes, he's a god in Earth's atmosphere.  Relating to Superman isn't at the top of most people's list when watching him, audiences want to be in awe of him.  It's not just superheroes: It's one man fighting a hoard of terrorists while trapped in a skyscraper; it's two detectives racing against time to stop a killer obsessed with the seven deadly sins; it's three women teaming up to take down their cheating lover.  Critical or artistic merit aside, film reveals our uncontrolled id, the shadow self.  If imagination is the vision of tomorrow, art is the looking glass.  Film opens the door to our true self and with 50 Shades of Grey around the corner, this is a scary proposition.   

In a Mirror, Darkly

"Be careful to leave your sons well instructed rather than rich, for the hopes of the instructed are better than the wealth of the ignorant." -Epictetus







A father prays he sees a clear image of himself when he peers into his son.  Born with this son is a desire to correct the mistakes of his father, an opportunity to snuff out the generational curses of his father and father's father, and a chance to create in this new being the change he wanted but could not will within himself.  Fathers want their sons to ascend past their life in scope and ambition.  These dreams and desires burn within the soul of a man, but if a son does not come to his father to glean wisdom, this fire flames out; these dreams and desires go unsaid.  When this fire finally reignites and these unspoken desires burst through, they come out in the form of a critical comment in anger, a searing glare, a long speech on disappointment: it's the curse he learned from his father and father's father.  Anger and disappointment are the only emotions men are comfortable enough to communicate.  How can a father truly tell his son what's on his heart without him becoming soft?  It's a long road to carry that heavy load and men cannot afford to be careless.  A father hopes his son will take these unsaid things from his life and his actions: providing for his mother and sisters.  Working even when it hurts; or at least this is what he tells himself.  Work and provision keeps a house warm but creates distance.  The image a father once thought he could clearly see in his son becomes smeared.

In a meeting between father and son, Don Corleone laments his desire for Michael to be a man of great influence; he never wanted him involved in the family business. He admits his older sons, Sonny and Fredo, were more cut out for the family business: Sonny's bombastic temper and impulsive nature makes him a natural mobster.  Fredo is dim-witted and frail but he's a soldier with a good heart.  Don Corleone recognizes that Michael has inherited his brain and calculating nature; his strongest attributes.  Michael wants to learn everything from his father. Once Michael becomes don, he appoints his father as his counselor.  This is for good reason; despite Don Corleone's brutal rise to power, by all accounts he's a warm family man who's beloved and can gain never ending loyalty from the most mammoth of men.  Michael's intellect made him ideal for the lonely and all consuming endeavor of empire building but he never inherited his father's heart.  Michael is never seen having the same openness with his son that Don Corleone had with him, Fredo and Sonny.  Michael makes the Corleone family more powerful and wealthy and yet, he loses his family.  He even talks to his mother about this possibility but the tragedy is that he never corrects his course.  Though Michael is the favored son and Don Corleone believes he's his doppelganger, Michael only managed to be a darkly image of his father.

The same way a father is viewed as a failure if he's not the ideal image of strength, swagger and provision; a son can find himself cursed with the burden of ascending past his father's life in scope and ambition.  After all, a father prays he sees a clear image of himself when he peers into his son  but the traditional view of masculinity is skewed and mired with every generation.  A father cannot expect his son to mirror only his best qualities; he must be willing to shatter his own reflection and let his son see him as flesh and blood.  This is the only way to fight off the shards of bad memories that will tear through the rest of his son's life. He must see his father's aches, his fragility, those imperfections that make him a man.  Those are the things that leave the biggest impact on a son.  As Don Corleone and Michael show, there's no guarantee father and son will be a clear copy of each other but a father can die well if he instructs his son on how to walk through the broken glass of life.  Then it becomes the son's choice whether or not he becomes a darkly image.
 

Law of Faith

"A causal stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything."

-Friedrich Nietzsche







Life can be a lot like space.  At its finest, we seem to float above the fray on earth, bathe in the Milky Way and the stellar view of the planets, and admire the majesty of the stars. Nothing can hurt us up here; however, life is but a dream. Unfortunately, like space, life can be an isolating vacuum that swallows people in it's dark vastness.  The truth is life is never fine enough to violate the law of gravity because a dead end job weighs us in the dirt; the truth is the stack of bills is too high to entertain any cosmic viewing; the truth is dreams of exploring uncharted planets supernova when faced with harsh realities. Despite setback after setback, we hold onto the simple law of faith: It has to get better.  We trudge through inertia for better days because everyone in our orbit gets all the breaks: a great job, an awesome spouse, finding a twenty dollar bill in the parking lot.  If it happens to them, its only a matter of time before it happens for us.  The fight to hold onto faith is fierce; logic and best laid plans dictates the abandonment of faith but logic and best laid plans fail, only leaving faith.  Faith whispers in the darkest there's meaning in pain when life hurts, fills the void in our souls when it becomes hollow; at least that's the story we want to believe.

Dr. Ryan Stone didn't have much faith.  Despite her education and intelligence, inside she's broken.  During her mission, disaster after disaster besets her. She trudges through losing her ship and her crew but after one too many obstacles, she hits a wall.  Best laid plans convince her there's no way to get back to earth.  Logic tells her there's no life for her back on earth; there isn't anyone waiting on her, no one will mourn her.  Yet, faith knocks on the door and shows her there's another way; that something has been overlooked.  Faith could have shown itself earlier but it's never too late to come bearing rewards.  Faith shines brightest when there's obstacles to overcome.  Good endings must be earned.

A stroll through the insane asylum may not prove faith but its very existence speaks to a level of hope.  The idea isn't just to lock away people with mental illness for an infinite amount of time and throw away the key; through medication and treatment doctors hope they become better.  Dr. Stone found the faith to continue because her life means something.  Her journey of perseverance will help someone else trudge through their circumstances.  Perseverance develops strength of character but this only comes through faith.  Like space, life can be an isolating vacuum that swallows people in it's dark vastness.  Life is not short on suffering but to live is to find meaning in the suffering.  Finding meaning begins with having faith in a greater ideal: It has to get better.  We must fight for better and only than do we earn the right to tell an incredible story.

What is Cinema?

"Who could ask for anything more than to have the opportunity--and the wherewithal--to convey by film a meaningful personal sentiment?  Not the kind of message expressed by words only, but to pass on an experience dear to the writer, with the force of a poem, a communication that combines every expressive art-photography, language, music, acting, movement-devised by man, coming out of your own feelings and seeking to reach not only the few people who are close to you but the whole world".
-Elia Kazan

Escaping to the cinema started out as paradise.  As time passed, the movie theater became a permanent residence; a home at the end of the world.  Disregarding flaws preserve love but ignoring them can be fatal.  Though paradise is calm and peaceful, there's still rain and once in a while, a hurricane develops and strikes.  A hurricane of change is plummeting cinema: the roaring winds of the digital age have sent many scurrying into storm shelters or searching for the sunnier horizons.  Nowadays movie studios only make big spectacles with a $250-300 million dollar price tag, independent films are becoming harder to produce and market, and cable television now occupies the space reserved for mid-budget films.  Superhero films are not bad but with reboots/remakes and young adult adaptations, they are the only three options at most theaters.  In the name of franchising, many properties from my childhood, the 1990s, are being redone with equal measures of nostalgia and annoyance.  The once familiar form of cinematic storytelling is being uprooted, flooded and smashed.  The blueprint for renovating cinema must be drawn up while the storm is still raging but will these new plans retain the essence and beauty of cinema?  

Cinema's essence and beauty were once confined to the movie theater.  A trip to the movie theater used to be the clear cut way to define cinema and experience cinematic storytelling. The advent of Netflix, multi-platform releases, high definition televisions, and the emergence of quality television shows have uprooted the traditional cinematic experience.  On the flip side, movie watching seems to be more convenient; there's no need to wait in line for concessions nor is there the need to sneak food into the theater.  For those souls still willing to brave the multiplex, it seems everything is a sequel.  As a matter of fact, the sequel to the movie you're watching now has already been greenlit.  By announcing multiple films in advance, there's no more dramatic tension.  The danger with franchising every movie is their uniform feel. In short, films have become episodic and in many ways, extended trailers.  The great irony of this occurrence is now the best TV shows have adopted cinematic storytelling.  Cinematic storytelling is the use of big stars, coherent direction, great dialogue and acting, character arcs, plot twist, multidimensional characters, and rich visuals as a means of storytelling.  Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Dexter and countless other shows have introduced cool and complicated characters that use to populate cinema.  The best example of this is True Detective; I even listed Rust Cohle as Matthew McConaughey's best performance earlier this year.  True Detective is a TV show with the soul of a film.  For the moment, television and home entertainment has taken the essence of the cinematic experience away from movie theaters but cinema's soul is still intact.  If the movie theaters are no longer the only place to experience cinema, is it still a relevant institution going forward?

The answer to cinema's future relevance lies in it's past.  Cinema did not originate in America.  France is considered the birthplace of cinema; The Gaumont Film Company of France is the world's first and oldest film company.  So many great film directors and cinematic movements have come from Europe and yet Hollywood became the movie capital of the world.  Though Hollywood is still considered the movie capital, the Cannes Film Festival is considered the movie mecca.  The Venice Film Festival is the world's oldest film festival.  It's not by accident that so many of cinema's most important institutions are scattered throughout the world.  Cinema is a global language.  Woody Allen is inspired by Ingmar Bergman, a Swedish director.  His name may not be mainstream but his film, The Seventh Seal, contains a scene in which a man plays chess with death; its one of the most iconic scenes in all cinema and has been parodied and referenced ad nauseam.  Everyone knows about Star Wars, some uncomfortably more than others, but George Lucas took inspiration from Akira Kurosawa.  Quentin Tarantino is as famous for his movies as he is for his extensive movie knowledge.  Cinema's best scenes and movies are iconic; they permeate through pop culture all over the globe.  It's why some filmmakers put their lives on the line to make a film.   Cinema's most important function as an institution is its ability to transport the heart and mind of the viewer to a specific region of the world and introduce a worldview that may otherwise be ignored.  Cinema's relevance as an art form depends on provoking emotion and creating inspiration through imagery across geographical, national and ethnic borders.

Cinema is still a paradise and it's not limited to an island.  The paradise of cinema is global but a hurricane of change is plummeting cinema.  However, cinema has survived similar storms.  During the 1960s, the movie industry resembled a desolate landscape because of box office bombs, television, audience apathy and global unrest.  However, by the end of the decade many of cinemas most influential artist cleaned up and rebuilt paradise.  They decided it was worth fighting through the harsh winds and rain.  The American New Wave came from this period of great strife.  Prominent directors such as Martin Scorsese, George Lucus, and Steven Spielberg oversaw the construction of a new cinema and films such as Easy Rider, Bonnie and Clyde and the Godfather shaped the landscape.  The next age of cinema will not be like the American New Wave: bold, new directors must use their own blueprints to renovate this institution.  No matter the structural changes, cinema passes through our consciences, connects people across different cultures, and evokes emotion from deep within our souls.  This is the essence and beauty of cinema.

An Ode To: Alfred Hitchcock

"Give them pleasure-the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare."

-The Master of Suspense

"Twilight has set in on another beautiful summer day.  For some, it brings feelings of joy. For others, melancholy, but for me, boredom.  Soon I won't be able to snoop on anyone. You'd be surprised just how many people leave their blinds open all day and don't think anyone is watching.  Hey, two weeks of pizza's and Netflix will drive anyone to voyeurism...I mean, neighborhood watching.  Okay, let me explain, I broke my leg a month ago and now I'm attached to this wheelchair; my ex-girlfriend would be surprised to see such a long term commitment, at least, other than my phone.  After a long day of net cruising, I spotted a sweet, refurbished Canon EOS Rebel on E-Bay for $250.00!  Look, I'm usually a pretty sensible kinda guy who keeps a budget in mind, especially in my delicate state but one can only play so much Pitfall, send so many text and I absolutely refuse to call anybody; I'm handicapped, not dying.  Plus, there's no more episodes of Orange Is The New Black.  I needed some excitement.  I had to have it.  They say the first thing to go in cabin fever is the mind, or something like that."

"Looking through it now, the clarity at dusk is unreal.  Right on schedule, the children duck and dodge through the sprinklers.  Mr. and Mrs. Minivan transport their infantry back home. Mrs. Sandy, a wonderful, old widow who worries over me so, tends to her tomatoes one last time.  She makes the best peach cobbler, I already inhaled the last plate she brought over.  I'm becoming such a fatty.  Well, one last pan of the neighborhood before lights out.  I hope Eve's home, I'll make her feel sorry for me and come over, she's...oh, there's my next door neighbor.  All business tonight, no waves. He's not really interesting, he's a bit of a mama's boy.  Since the accident he sees it as an invitation to act neighborly.  I can never remember his name...Charlie, maybe?  I don't know, some plain name. He closes the blinds, he's probably stuffing a bird.  Yeah, the guy talks about only two things, his mom and stuffing birds. Real Ted Bundy type stuff.  Though he's never closed his blinds to do that...okay, nothing to see.  He's definitely a lonely heart, he figures I am too since we're both bachelors, but I'm known to have a guest or two or four.  Man, I need to text Eve,  where's my phone?"

"The only thing more sucky than having this anchor attached to my leg while taking a shower is placing this anchor inside of a plastic bag to take a shower...crap, I left my phone downstairs, I'll hobble to it later.  I also left my camera laying on the bed.  Like I said, the mind is the first thing to go.  Just two and a half crutch assisted hops into the bedroom.  Hmmm...Charlie's light's still on, maybe he's burning the midnight oil.  I need a better look; alright, steady the camera, steady, zoom in...he's not so lonely after all, there's a woman on his bed.  Wait, I shouldn't be watching...she's putting her hands up, they're taped together.  It's like she's pleading...he's holding a knife in.  He lifts it up; she hops up and plasters herself against the window.  Her face red, eyes swelled with tears, her mouth wrapped in duct tape, her screams imprisoned.  She bangs against the window...her eyes close and she slumps down toward the floor.  He looks down at her...I can't believe...no, he looks at me.  Where's my phone!?"

"It's downstairs, I have I to run, ahhhh!  Right, broken leg, I gotta crawl now, I'm a huge idiot. What....no, he's pounding on the door.  The alarm blares, he's stampeding up the steps.  I have to hide, I need to get under the bed, come on crawl!  He's stopped, he's upstairs; I feel his glare piercing into my back.  He stomps over and drags me from under the bed.  I claw the floor, reaching for the door threshold; he flings me into the bathroom, hot shower running behind me.  I push myself back, my only option.  My back hits the bathtub wall, he towers over me, holding a knife."        

The ultimate nightmare scenario. For six decades, Alfred Hitchcock mined our subconscious fears and anxiety's for inspiration.  For over fifty films, Alfred Hitchcock forced us into the role of voyeur; intriguing us with what we saw but at the same time, making us question our moral sensibilities.  He was the architect of most techniques used in the film today.  His considerable shadow looms over every frame of film produced.  Psycho fathered Freddy, Jason, and Michael Myers; it grandfathered every horror/slasher film ever made.  Every movie, T.V show and commercial now uses the vertigo effect.  Through his cameos, interviews, trailers and television series, Alfred Hitchcock created film brand recognition: it's the reason Christopher Nolan, Steven Spielberg and execs at film franchise juggernaut Marvel can swim in bank vaults full of money.  The strength of any thriller today is measured on whether it's Hitchcockian enough or not, which is an corroded, double-edged sword. 

Like every buzzworthy, tall, athletic, shooting guard is compared to Michael Jordan, every new director who makes a great thriller or suspense film is christened a new Hitchcock disciple.  Without any since of irony, professional wordsmiths like critics and prognosticators diminish words like "master" and "Hitchcock" and hand out laurels like little league trophies.  Some directors (David Fincher) continue to produce great work in the face of such comparisons while others (M. Night Shyamalan, you knew it was coming) are declared his legitimate heir apparent only to be crushed under the crown's weight.  Then, there are directors who are seen as only carbon copies until they make something original (Brian De Palma).  Not that Hitchcock had a problem with plagiarism; heck, Hitchcock plagiarized himself, often re-shooting similar scenes from earlier films in later movies.  He even remade an earlier British movie, The Man Who Knew Too Much twenty years later starring James Stewart.  

In the end, his place on cinema's Mount Rushmore is undeniable but what about his indelible mark on our psyches?  Who else can make us think twice before getting into the shower, welcoming a distant family member, or question a man's fondness of his mother?  I tip my hat to you:  The Master of Suspense, The Architect of Nightmares, Sir Alfred Hitchcock.

Desert of Jadedness

"What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well".

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery






No one seeks out a desert; its discovered after fleeing from hurt.  Trust, a delicacy so brittle but given with much care and heart attached, is now fragmented.  Hot, vivid images of betrayal crash into our psyche; the blood coursing through our body feels like lava.  When we stop at last and look around, there's no life to be seen.  No water, no vegetation, no sign of the oasis that was home.  Though these new surroundings are alien, it feels better this way; isolation is the best policy.  Sun and sand are our only companions. Now time can stitch the heart back together; however, no one lives in the desert for very long.  After much wondering in the desert, a miracle happens.  Someone possesses and shows pity, bringing us back to civilization.  However, we are not the same.  Jadedness has seeped in and dried up the well of hope and goodwill.  Our voice carries cynicism, our eyes are void of any compassion.  Jadedness casts harsh shadows and colors perception black and white.  All of this came from caring too much; now, we don't stick our neck out for anybody.

Once a upon a time, Rick fought against tyranny but now, he stews away in the desert; jadedness long sapping him of any passion. The refugees reek of desperation; there's no time to be jaded.  Casablanca is the land between dream fulfillment and failure.  Rick's jaded false face, though convincing, does not hold up and comes off more often than he cares to admit.  At the beginning of the film, Rick refuses to allow a German banker access into his cafe. Ilsa, the person responsible for his flight in the first place, arrives and rips off Rick's facade.  Rick's atrophied heart beats once more.  It's amazing how as time goes by, old wounds thought healed again ache.  She arrives in Casablanca with her husband, a renowned leader who's key in turning the tide in World  War II.  Rick fights his desire to not hurt anymore versus the need for his life to mean something.  Helping Ilsa amounts to something bigger than himself but jadedness continues to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.    

Trust, a delicacy so brittle but given with much care and heart attached, is very dangerous.  When we trust people, we also give them permission to hurt us.  When trust is destroyed, we flee into the desert to live in isolation.  Though sensible, living in isolation is a slow death.  Rick could not live adrift in Casablanca without affecting others.  At some point, those tattered pieces of heart scab over and heal.  Though the scars are visible, it doesn't change the functionality of the heart and its still the same after the scabs fall away.  Jadedness is a vital part of the healing process, it is not the end.  Wonder in the desert long enough and a well is found.  Live long enough and pain will find us all.  Separating pain from life is akin to separating fertile soil from a tree, we need pain to grow; it's better to feel pain and know we're alive than it is to feel nothing and not know we're dead.  We're going to have to endure pain and jadedness but after healing comes the time to live, love, and begin beautiful friendships.      

The Graduate Drift

"Well, I would say I'm just drifting.  Here in the pool. It's very comfortable to drift here."

-Ben Braddock










Drifting sucks.  Drifting is akin to a slow death in this sink or swim world but there are times where it's beneficial.  In college, it's okay to float from class to class, flock from this group to that group and dabble in different majors.  After graduation, its time to celebrate; its time to be exalted by family and friends.  After the party's over, the time for reflection commences: the time comes to actually read the diploma and see what this piece of paper qualifies the wielder to do.  Visions of the future washes over.  Then it becomes difficult to breath, a sinking feeling envelopes the stomach.  Accolades and accomplishments are nothing more than resume fodder.  Our path is no longer clear; our worldview skewed.  The perfect plan emplaced upon graduation is deviated from after the umpteenth rejection.  Poor job prospects dampen the burning passion we covet but cannot claim.  The where, when, how, who and why's push us under water.  We drown in the anxiety of real bills and accumulated debt.  Not only are we worried about the future, it feels easier to sink.    

Ben Braddock is flooded with worries during his parents display of him.   Everyone throws advice toward him; there are so many floats being thrown out and yet he shows no desire to be saved.  When he decides he wants to be saved, he grabs onto the float thrown by the most attractive of all his parents friends.  He's content to drift in and out of his parents pool and in and out of bed with Mrs. Robinson.  Ben is not sure of what his accomplishments mean or what they say about him.  Even though Ben is drifting, at least he's still afloat.  Mrs. Robinson has been sinking for a long time and has long lost interest in coming up for air.  She started drifting after becoming pregnant with Elaine, giving up her art major and succumbing to Mr. Robinson's proposal to marriage.  For years and years, she's allowed alcohol and her husband's late nights to weigh her down.  The float Mrs. Robinson threw out was really an anchor.  Mrs. Robinson's dilemma is not different from many older people who feel this way about their job or marriage, it's just a more acceptable form of sinking.  

Mr. Robinson tells Ben to sow his wild oats and have fun as a young man. This statement is ironic considering Mr. Robinson was doing the same with Mrs. Robinson when she became pregnant.  Mistakes made in youthful exuberance have lasting consequences into old age.  Ben does not want to be where Mrs. Robinson is, desiring a second chance at mid-life.   It's easy to fawn for youth, the chance to swim down a new stream before the anxiety of real bills and accumulated debt extinguished the passion we coveted but could not claim.  Life ebbs and flows; swimming or sinking depends more on current than strength or skill.  This is something young people today, myself included, should have heard a long time ago.  We've been taught to swim or sink when sometimes drifting is the best option.  It's important to look up and see the vastness of the sky; feel and smell the freshness of the air and glean rays from the sun; to close our eyes and just float.