Contour At The Movies

Overall Impression – Yet another film that isn’t quite sure who the main character is.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Should be Tintin, however from about the end of act 1 the film becomes all about Captain Haddock.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Depends on who the “he” is.  If Tintin, all he really has is a ‘professional’ story which is to solve the mystery of the ship, the Unicorn. If one considers Haddock the main character then he shares the same professional story as Tintin while his ‘personal’ story is how he’s trying to sober himself up and straighten his life around.  His ‘private’ story is to measure up to his illustrious forebear, Sir Francis Haddock.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Sakharine

What happens if he fails? – Both Tintin and Haddock will likely die, killed by Sakharine.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Tintin is an apparent orphan, but a very self-actualized one.  Haddock has been abandoned by his crew and is truly all alone in life.

Wanderer – Tintin gets the parchments and sets out to find the missing one.  In his journey he finds Haddock locked in his cabin aboard his ship.

Warrior – Tintin and Haddock fight to escape, fight to find the third piece of the clue, and then fight to keep it and use it.

Martyr – Tintin doesn’t really sacrifice anything (if memory serves me correctly.)  Haddock gives up his boozing and decides to step up and risk everything to reclaim the honor of his family.

AND, IN THE END…

Tintin is a kid who gets beat up by adults, shot at by adults, shoots at adults, acts like an adult by having a dangerous job, is familiar to Interpol, lives on his own, and doesn’t seem to have any parents anywhere.  Kids-as-adults is a staple in kids’ movies, but that only goes so far.  It’s hard for an audience not to squirm when watching a 15 or 16 year old being assaulted with everything from fists to flashlights.  C’mon!  Stop hitting that kid!

The Adventures of Tintin struggles to overcome the obstacle of having a picture-perfect teen, operating in an adult world, as the main character by shifting focus to Haddock.  Haddock is a drunken, slovenly adult.  You can hit the poor bastard as much as you want.   Compared to Tintin, Haddock is a smorgasbord of dramatic potential.  He’s got a past, he’s far from perfect,  he’s got an ax to grind and a grudge to avenge.  He’s a perfect main character; damaged, haunted, and with hidden dignity waiting to be brought to the surface.  There’s just one problem: everyone wants to be Tintin and nobody wants to be Haddock.

In a film like this, the audience wants and needs a wish fulfillment.  Everyone wishes they were brave, resourceful, daring, and smart.  Nobody wishes they were drunken and damaged.  Shifting the focus from Tintin to Haddock makes a certain amount of dramatic sense when considering the lack of gravitas a teen boy has and the amount of jeopardy one can put the teen into and get away with.  However the title of the film is The Adventures of Tintin, not The Misadventures of Captain Haddock.   It’s Tintin’s journey people want to go on.  And not in service of Haddock’s journey, either.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – An extremely simple story that makes an incredibly complex film.  The best movie I’ve seen this year.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – 9-year-old,  slightly autistic Oskar Schell.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Find the lock that fits the key he believes his father left for him. Personal: Deal with the anger and alienation he feels towards his mother.  Private: Overcome his fears and learn that life can continue without his father.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Slightly, only slightly, his mother (but this is a deception.)  It’s the enormity of the task that poses the real obstacle, however there is someone whose actions unwittingly send Oskar down many wrong paths early on.

What happens if he fails? – He never connects with his mother and he loses his grasp on the world.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Oskar is coping with (most likely) Asperger’s, which already makes him an orphan in a certain sense.  After the death of his father on 9/11 Oskar is orphaned further and most profoundly, as he had the most wonderful relationship with his father in the history of father-son relationships.

Wanderer – Oskar finds a key hidden in his father’s closet which he believes unlocks a message.  Going by the only word written on the envelope the key was in — ‘Black’ — Oskar sets out to find everyone in New York named Black and see if they knew his father and/or know anything about the key.

Warrior – When the enormity of the task starts to overwhelm him, Oskar teams up with ‘the Renter,’ the mysterious old man who is renting a room at his grandmother’s apartment.  Oskar fights to learn more about the Renter and grapples more strongly with his feelings of loss while fighting to overcome his many fears.

Martyr – Once Oskar discovers the key’s rightful owner and that it truly wasn’t meant for him, Oskar gives up even discovering what mystery the key unlocks (in reality, a message to another grieving son).  He discovers the lengths his mother went to in order to keep him safe and learns to give up his grief and anger, and by doing so discovers the hidden message his father really did leave for him.

AND, IN THE END…

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close is unabashedly emotional, sentimental, and heartbreaking.  It is also exquisitely crafted.  The script has levels of complexity that are so subtly presented that the hand of the writer is almost invisible in spite of the scenery-chewing dialog delivered by Thomas Horn who plays Oskar.  ’Scenery-chewing’ in this instance is a high compliment.  The story rests on his previously untested shoulders (his only prior credit was winning ‘Kid’s Week’ on Jeopardy).

I’m curious to see how well the movie does; can a story as challenging as this, dealing with the tragedy of 9/11, find an audience?  I hope so.   This is now the second movie I’ve seen recently (The Descendants is the other) made by adults, for adults, and with screenplays that hit their beats and plot points with intelligence and grace beyond measure.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – Subtle and beautiful.  Sneaks up on you like an Hawaiian sunset.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Matt King.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Manage the sale of his family property. Personal: Hold his family together while his wife is in a coma.  Private: Come to terms with his wife’s adultery.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Cousin Hugh and, to an extent, Brian Speer who is the man Matt’s wife cheated with.

What happens if he fails? – He brings down the wrath of his cousins and he loses his connection with his daughters.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Matt’s wife is in a coma following a boating accident, he has an unhealthy relationship with his two daughters.

Wanderer – After Matt discovers that his wife had been having an affair, he takes his daughters on a trip to Kauai to find Brian, the man his wife was having the affair with.

Warrior – Matt finds Brian and sets out to confront him while simultaneously having doubts about selling the family property and making a fortune for himself and his cousins.

Martyr – Matt decides not to sell the land in order to keep the purity of it, even though he will likely be sued by his family.  He also gives permission to Brian to visit his wife who is being taken off of life support.

AND, IN THE END…

The Descendants is a movie for grownups, and instead of trying to pulverize the audience with bombastic drama it lures you in and gently leads you into the lives of the characters.

The movie is anchored by George Clooney who brings a sad, schleppy quality to Matt King (even I look better running in flip-flops) but this is part of the craftsmanship.  Clooney makes us forget that he is cut from the same suave fabric of movie stars of yore so you can focus on his journey.  The story pulls you along, and while it will likely never be a monster grossing movie, it’s a wonderful example of how a screenplay can hit all the beats of conventional story structure but make you think it’s anything but conventional.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – A boy, a soldier, two soldiers, a girl, another soldier, another soldier, and finally back to a boy and his horse.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Joey, the horse.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Be the best darn horse ever. Personal: Stay alive.  Private: Get back to the boy who raised him (if I can anthropomorphize a horse’s hope.)

Who’s trying to stop him? – World War I.

What happens if he fails? – He dies.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Joey is separated from his mother and taken in by the Narracott family.  When WWI begins, he is purchased by the British army and sent to war.

Wanderer – The bulk of the movie is about Joey wandering, and the many different hands he falls into on his way back home.

Warrior – Joey never has a real changeover from Wanderer to Warrior.  Rather, both archetypes blur throughout the middle and end of the film.  Towards the end of the film, Joey makes a break and runs from battle; I suppose one could argue he is now ‘fighting’ to stay alive however this happens so late in the movie that it can’t really be considered the shift to Warrior.

Martyr – There isn’t really any one seminal scene of Joey being willing to sacrifice himself.  In act three many characters have martyr moments, however these are secondary characters, and even tertiary and quaternary characters.  And THERE’S the problem.

AND, IN THE END…

How does one make a PG-13 film for adults where a horse is the main character and without turning it into a Disney talking animal movie?  How does one let the audience into a non-verbal, non-human main character’s head with complete understanding?  How does one drive a dramatic story forward with a main character whose hopes, dreams, choices, and thoughts can only be guessed at?

One can’t.

What one does instead is surround that silent main character with other characters.  Someone has to do the talking, right?  But dramatic tension is more than chit-chat; it’s created by the decisions and actions your main character takes.  It is a fundamental truth that the less proactive and more reactive your main character is, the weaker your main character — and subsequently your story — becomes.  What could be more reactive than a horse;  harnessed, ridden, and led around by a rope?

In an attempt to overcome this crucial, elemental storytelling hurdle, War Horse fills it’s running time with a swirling cast of characters that surround our non-speaking, non-human main character.  The commonality for all these characters is their ability to recognize how special the horse is.  Unfortunately, that’s not enough to keep an audience engaged.  As beautiful as War Horse is to look at, the end result is merely a beautiful film to look at.

Please understand that my goal here is to extrapolate lessons about screenwriting — both good and bad — from every movie I see.  The main lesson of War Horse is the same lesson one usually learns from episodic films with multiple characters: they make it notoriously difficult for audiences to latch onto and emotionally invest in characters.   And as magnificent as Joey is, his power as a tour guide into the world of the film only takes us so far.

I haven’t read the book War Horse that the stage play and movie is based on, however my understanding is that the book does an excellent job of bringing the reader into the mind of Joey, the horse.  That is the power and beauty of literature.  Trying to do that in a film and not come out with Babe is a stiffer challenge, one which even our best filmmakers can’t overcome.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – Perfunctory storytelling meets lack of charisma.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto).

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Kill Sebastian Shaw. Personal: Work with Charles Xavier to find and recruit fellow mutants.  Private: Create the family he was deprived of as a child.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Sebastian Shaw, the U.S. Military, and ultimately Charles Xavier.

What happens if he fails? – His mother’s death goes unavenged and he and his fellow mutants are reviled and killed.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Erik is a true orphan, losing both of his parents in the Holocaust and particularly his mother whom he witnesses being shot by Shaw.

Wanderer – After the war is over, Erik roams the world, looking for the man who killed his mother.  In the course of his travels from Geneva to Argentina and finally Miami, Erik finds Shaw and is ready to kill him, but fails.  He is rescued by Charles Xavier who has been recruited by the CIA to also help defeat Shaw.

Warrior – Erik teams up with Xavier to find and recruit additional mutants and take the battle back to Shaw.

Martyr – Driven by revenge, Erik is willing to go after Shaw on his own.  Successfully killing Shaw, Erik is now confronted by the full fury of US military.  Confirming his feeling that mutants will never be accepted, he is about to destroy the ships that are firing on him and his “family” with their own missiles, but gives that up only after Xavier is accidentally wounded by Erik’s own actions.

AND, IN THE END…

Trying to hit that all important superhero, sci-fi, bromance demographic, X-Men: First Class does everything mostly right on paper but is ultimately undone by both the lack of depth of the individual characters and lack of emotional connection between the characters.  Putting characters together into the same scene is not the same as characters coming together in a scene, and therein lies the problem with this film.  All the pieces are in the right places, but with the exception of Erik their inner lives are as bland as porridge.

Structurally, things are sound if somewhat unexciting.  The mutant teens are sound and unexciting.  The villain is sound but unexciting.  The settings are…well…you get the idea. Working with a lot less, director Matthew Vaughn really kicked our a**es with Kick A**. Moral compass unease aside, that movie had characters with no super powers, no political background to play against (X-Men: First Class shows us what was “really”  going on during the Cuban missile crisis), and a smaller canvas to paint upon, yet the hurt and depth and the complexity of the characters was much, much more than this motley group of mutants can put forth.

To quote Andrew O’Hehir from salon.com, “there’s something a little depressing about all the hype and excitement surrounding X-Men: First Class.”

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – Visually exhausting and dramatically repetitive.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Scott Pilgrim.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Defeat his new girlfriend’s seven evil ex’s. Personal: Learn how to be a good friend to his band mates and the girls who like him.  Private: Learn the true meaning of love.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Ultimately, Gideon Graves who put together the League of Evil Ex’s.

What happens if he fails? – Ramona is enslaved to Gideon and Scott dies.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Scott isn’t really an orphan at all.  He is part of a not-terrible band, he has an adoring girlfriend, and there are people who legitimately care for him.  At worst, you could say that he’s an orphan because he’s a slacker-nerd, but nobody seems to mind that about him.

Wanderer – After dreaming about and then actually meeting Ramona, Scott tries to figure out how to win her heart, only to discover that she’s got seven evil ex’s that he has to defeat.

Warrior – Scott becomes a warrior from his first encounter, early in act 2.  He doesn’t even have to learn any skills, because he has Matrix-like fighting ability that comes out of no where.

Martyr – Scott is willing to give up his life to save Ramona, however Scott’s former girlfriend makes even more of a sacrifice, giving up Scott so he can be with Ramona.

AND, IN THE END…

Back at the end of March, I posted this entry after seeing the trailer for SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE WORLD, where I declared that this was “my next favorite movie.”  I was wrong.

The movie had a lot going for it: terrific director, retro-video game sensibility, cult graphic-novel status…how could I not love it?  Well, I didn’t and based on the 10.5 million dollars it made opening weekend, many didn’t either.  Expectations were high, reality was low.

I think that several missteps undo SCOTT PILGRIM VS THE WORLD.  Firstly, the story is repetitive.  Once someone says that your hero has to defeat seven people, all the audience can do is sit back and wait for the battles.  Everything else feels like filler.  And even though the level of difficulty increases like a video game player working through progressively harder levels, ultimately you know that everything will lead to the Big Boss level.  And sadly, many of the battles end through what the filmmakers want us to believe is Scott Pilgrim’s resourcefulness, but actually just feels like scriptwriting that is trying to be too clever by half.

Next, we’re told that the main character grows as a person (even to the point of earning bonuses at the climax), but it’s all tell and no show.  We don’t see that growth and don’t really care that much, especially because we don’t really want him to end up with the mercurial and possibly psychotic Ramona.  The unfortunately named Knives Chau, his adoring present girlfriend, is a lot more stable and loving.

Finally, the main character is played by Michael Cera who plays Michael Cera and has been playing Michael Cera since his ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT days.   I’m personally suffering from CFS (Cera Fatigue Syndrome).   You know what you’re going get with him in the lead and that’s what is delivered — nothing more interesting or developed.

It’s not that the movie doesn’t offer up any joy.  It’s got an infectious energy and makes a noble attempt at cracking the conundrum of how to present graphic novel format visually in a film, but ultimately it falls flat and just left me exhausted.

I think the movie’s failing can be boiled down to a main character nobody cares much about, going on a journey we don’t understand, pursuing a goal we don’t support.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter

Overall Impression – Relentlessly bad, in every possible way, in every possible filmmaking discipline.

THE FOUR QUESTIONS

Who’s your main character? – Aang.

What’s he trying to accomplish? – Professional: Defeat the Fire Kingdom. Personal: Nothing I can think of. Private: Decide if he’s willing to forego having a family in order to become the Avatar, though he talks about this so much, maybe it’s his personal goal?  But it’s an inner conflict, so maybe it’s a private goal?   But he keeps talking about it, so maybe it’s…aw hell.

Who’s trying to stop him? – Fire Lord Ozai is the big baddie, but there are really two others going directly against Aang; the whiny Prince Zuko and the oily Commander Zhao.

What happens if he fails? – The Fire Kingdom will suppress the other kingdoms.

THE FOUR ARCHETYPES

Orphan – Aang is discovered in a ball of ice, in which he’s been frozen for 100 years after running away from the monastery where he was being trained to be the Avatar, the only person who can ‘bend’ all four elements: earth, water, air, and fire.

Wanderer – After being discovered by two teen siblings who bring him back to their village, and realizing that he can’t run from his responsibility, he and they set off to find someone who can teach him the first of the skills he lacks, water bending.

Warrior – He never really becomes a warrior.  It’s possible that this is because this is the first movie in a planned mult-part story, but if that’s the case, it’s a giant miscalculation.

Martyr – He seems, at the end, to finally be willing to become the Avatar…but that’s practically the very end of the story.  Prior to that, it’s the tertiary character Princess Yue who makes the biggest sacrifice.

AND, IN THE END…

Almost from the beginning, THE LAST AIRBENDER dares us NOT to pick it to death like a pack of rabid ducks.  Teen siblings Katara and Sokka find a big ball of ice.  ”Don’t hit it!” Sokka warns his sister.  So she hits it.  Inside is a kid and a giant furry creature, both unconscious.  Katara looks at him and determines that he’s ‘exhausted.’  Out of all of the possible things a kid in a ball of ice might be, ‘exhausted’ is way down the list, but at that point Aang wasn’t the only one exhausted.  And the movie had just started.

Everything about this movie is a misfire, but as this is a blog about story structure I suppose I should focus my comments on its storytelling shortcomings.

Nah.

When someone lobs a ball over the plate, one can be forgiven for swinging at it.  Besides, I’m really angry at this movie and will explain why shortly.

THE LAST AIRBENDER was an enormously popular animated series, but it was a series that stretched over three seasons.  Shyamalan was saddled with the task of taking the entire first season and turning it into a single 100 minute movie, regardless of whether the plot points and story arc of that season actually conform to a solid movie structure.  Which they don’t.  As a result, you have a story that meanders and wanders, about a hero who does nothing much beyond getting captured and escaping, getting captured and escaping.  He drives no part of the story.

The script is a nightmare of flashbacks, voiceovers, and clumsy exposition.  Seems like Shyamalan was absent that day in film school when they taught “show, don’t tell.”   The spewing of exposition instead of good dialog gets so bad that eventually Shyalaman — possibly to give his main characters a break from vomiting out every bit of information the audience needs to know — has Prince Zuko call over an anonymous village boy and asks “What do you know about Prince Zuko?” just so AnonyBoy can start HIS OWN voice over and flashback about Prince Zuko.  Thanks, AnonyBoy!  Now, back to where you came from, never to be seen or heard from again!

The direction does nothing to enhance the script.  It’s unimaginative and flat.   The acting is almost uniformly one-dimensional and wooden, with deep meaningful tones and proclamations taking the place of actual deep meaning.  And what’s with all the white people playing Asians and indigenous peoples?  What is this, the 1940′s?  I’m all for color-blind casting, but you can’t stick two white kids in an entire village of Eskimos and then try to convince me they share DNA with the tribe.

Cinematically, the entire movie looks dull as dishwater.  The colors are muted and the lighting is dark, and everything only gets more muted and more dark through the polarized lenses of the 3D glasses.  And now we come to the source of my anger.

THE LAST AIRBENDER was a movie shot in 2D and then, in order to jump on the lucrative 3D wagon (3D tickets are more expensive, in case you haven’t noticed) the movie was reprocessed into 3D.  But it’s a 3D experience that means nothing because not one single shot, not one element, was designed to enhance the 3D viewing experience.  Actually, that’s not true…the opening and tail credits were designed to look pretty in 3D.  Shyamalan’s company logo at the start of the movie is the best 3D effect in the entire film.  Seriously.  Compare this to the other AVATAR — James Cameron’s — where EVERY shot was designed for 3D and you’ll understand what a blatant, unimaginative, and larcenous ploy this is; get people to pay more for a lousy 3D version of a movie that they could see in the original 2D in the next theater over?  I implore you…DO NOT spend the money to see this movie in 3D.   You are being scammed.  You might as well send your money to that Nigerian banker who contacted you via email and seems to really trust you.  I know I’m being harsh, but as soon as Paramount sends me back the difference between the ticket prices I’ll back off.

I can’t remember a movie that has left me this disappointed before, and I surely can’t remember a movie that has made me this angry.

– Jeffrey Alan Schechter