Art Musings by Cybersnark

GENERAL DISCUSSIONS

Art Musings

POSTED BY: CYBERSNARK
UPDATED: Monday, December 12, 2005 05:57
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VIEWED: 372
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Monday, December 12, 2005 5:57 AM

So, way back when Revenge of the Sith came out, I had planned to do a review. Of course, I waited until the second week, and by then the review threads had pretty much said everything I could say (it sucked). I had a few ideas I wanted to articulate, but I just decided to use them for something else in the future.

When Serenity came out, I'd again planned to do a review. Of course, the site was down that weekend, and again, by the time I was able to get in, pretty much everything that could be said had been.

This isn't so much a review of either as some general ranting and observation about filmmaking in general, from a fan's perspective.

[aside]
Note that it's called "being a fan" if the thing you like is counter-cultural, but if we're talking about something "adult" like recognized Classics (recognized by whom?) it's called "having (good) taste." The non-fans are awarded for their bias, while fans (who, by the very nature of fandom, have subjected themselves to a wider range of context [in this case, Joss' previous work, and previous work by others in the same genre], and are thus more qualified to make a thorough analysis) are disparaged.
That seem right to you?
[/aside]

I'm making no apologies for being a fan. I'm a writer, and I unashamedly consider Joss to be one of my idols --an artist worthy of emulating. He's not alone there: I'm also a fan of William Shakespeare, Jim Henson, Walt Disney, Gene Roddenberry, Hayao Miyazaki, Rumiko Takahashi, Robert Hewitt Wolfe, Peter David, and countless others. If I can capture a fraction of what these Storytellers express, I'll consider myself fortunate.

What makes all these folks similar --and what (I believe) makes Serenity a triumph even without my Browncoat-coloured glasses-- is art. I'm sure Joss didn't set out to create an Art Film (a term which should be a redundancy), but that's a part of why he succeeded.

Art can exist in anything (from painting to fighting to clerical work), but not everything is art. A lot of everything out there is just product. Sound and fury. So what makes the difference? What makes a simple act or product into something worthy of art? Serenity nails it: Love (keeps her in the air when she should fall, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. . .).

Centuries ago, Aristotle put it a bit more simply: Catharsis. A well-done Tragedy or Comedy is one that evokes a feeling of release in the audience --where villains are punished and heroism is rewarded, and the Law of Nature and the Gods is reaffirmed. Aristotle's conclusion is, I feel, a simplistic one, fitted to a very specialized context. He was only talking about staged plays, Tragedies and Comedies, while I tend to take a wider view.

I say it's emotion in general that defines Art. (And what is Love if not the most primal and unpredictable of human [or possibly even inhuman] emotions?) Art draws its impact from the ability to evoke an emotional reaction in its audience. It doesn't have to move you to tears --that song that you just can't hear without wanting to dance, or that video game that you keep playing again and again-- there is as much art in them as in Shakespeare.

Looking at all the people who are reacting to that certain death in Serenity proves enough that Joss did it. I see a lot of movies, and I'd wager I'm not the only one here who does. Movies that hit me as hard as Serenity are few and far between --anyone think Doom had this many people coming out of the theatre out of breath and dizzy and feeling? Not likely. This is but one area where Joss excels. No-one can tug the heartstrings like he can.

How does he (or anybody) do this? There're different ways, depending on medium. I feel that the surest way to make people love something is to love it yourself, as Joss and the entire cast and crew clearly do. When you really love what you're doing, you put effort into it, you devote time to making it as perfect as you can. This expresses itself in the details. The little touches that show that someone has spent time and effort here, even if no-one ever notices it.

The decorations on Kaylee's door, the flowers in the kitchen. The cigars that Jayne brings to Book (which Book saves for later). River wearing Kaylee's jacket as she leaves. The overlapping carpets in the passenger lounge. The improvised bookshelves (using the ship's structural beams against the hull). Zoe's way-off-camera comment to Jayne about robbin' the place, not occupying it. Mal's background conversation in the cargo bay as Simon goes to talk to River. Inara's change of expression when the Operative arrives. Jayne passng the bottle to Simon. The look between Mal & Inara just before he leaves them to hold the line. The dinosaurs and plastic trees on Wash's console --the list goes on.

All these little details serve two purposes. First, as I said, they express the love of the artists for their craft. They tell us that we, the audience, are worth them putting in this much effort. We're not just some rubes, to be taken in by the pretty pretty lights, but discerning peers (fans, yes, but of a film made by fans), who recognize and appreciate quality work.

They also serve as verissimilitude.

Aristotle described this as well, stressing the importance of imitation --of seeing the real world reproduced in the minutest detail. Of course, the real world isn't always what we (as opposed to the Greek dramatists) are trying to reproduce.

It is a filmmaker's duty, no matter how otherworldly or bizarre the setting, the story, or the characters, to make it seem like a real world, populated by real people. It's the details that do this; doesn't matter whether we're talking about high school kids in the city, cowboys on a spaceship, Starfleet officers, Jedi Knights, or giant shape-shifting alien robots. If they're not real, than the audience just won't get into it. Conversely, enough detail will pull the audience in even when the visuals can't.

In the first episode of Andromeda, we meet First Lieutenant Refractions-of-Dawn. "Dawn" is a Than, and her bug-like costume (with emotionless open-shut mouthparts and no facial expression whatsoever) wouldn't be out of place on Power Rangers. Yet she shows a fuller, more developed personality (in about two minutes of screen time) than some of the show's later human guests (hell, she showed more personality than the show's lead did

). What makes her particularly striking is that she was basically a token redshirt --her only major role is to get shot (spectacularly) by the ep's villain. Dawn had a back-story (no clue what it may have been, but it's most assuredly there), explaining just how this irreverent, borderline-insubordinate-but-undeniably-loyal Than grunt ended up as Andromeda's helmswoman. It's RHW's care for his script that makes this work --love keeping in the air what should have fallen.

(Later in the series, after it had fallen apart, another character names some of his heroes, including real political/military figures from Earth, a few from the Andromeverse, and one from "the Galaxy Seven" --obviously an Andromeverse comic book or cartoon or something (judging by another character's bemused reaction). Just a little thing, but it went quite a ways toward redeeming the failing series in my eyes. Not far enough, as it turned out, but I do remember it as a nice touch.)

Characters also shouldn't just pop in and out of existence when the camera hits them. They have histories and futures, experiences, goals, hopes, fears, hobbies, and interests, and it's not just the characters. The world wasn't created in the Prologue, and shouldn't (usually) end cleanly in the Epilogue. Everything should have a history attached to it.

Serenity does this perfectly, and it matters. The ship has been in flight, burned by atmospheric re-entry, dinged-up and weathered. The clothes are off-the-rack, even if the rack is in a store on another planet. Food comes from the market, in cans with labels and preparation instructions. Chairs and such aren't bolted-down, and will get knocked around in turbulence. The painted signage on the mule is all scratched and weathered (probably bought it second-hand).

These aren't cartoon characters, they're people, even if they only exist on screen. Even there, they're more real than some movie characters.

Think of the Star Wars prequels, Ep III in particular. We ever see any Jedi getting bruised? Any robes getting torn, hair mussed? Anyone relaxing and toying with a random bit of set-dressing? Any small-talk that's not made up of movie-trailer sound bites? (Well, AotC isn't bad, what with the Obi-Wan/Anakin banter.) There's nothing in that movie that doesn't seem artificial or contrived.

Compare it with the original trilogy. Luke's threadbare farm clothes, the dust and scoring on the droids, the battered fighters, Luke's junkheap of a speeder (that you can tell is second- or third-hand at least), the way Luke picks up that toy skyhopper and plays with it as he's talking to 3P0. Luke's complaint about trying to sell the speeder (we don't need to see the "XP-38s" to understand what Luke's talking about --he's just trying to sell his car). Even Hamill's at times overly histrionic acting isn't that jarring. After all, he's an overeager farm kid getting pulled into an interstellar war. The love of the cast and crew for what they thought was a glorified B-movie carried the day.

I mean, I know Luke, and Han, and Leia, and Chewie. I've "met" them through the movies (and the Expanded Universe). They're real. Real like Mal & his crew. Their respective worlds are detailed, realistic, filled with real events and equally real people. Even if you don't see it on screen, you can be confident that there're analogues to rock music, and fast-food, and furry stuffed toys, and Saturday morning cartoons (or holograms, whatever) --just like in "our" real world.

The Prequels? Not so much. I don't know Anakin Skywalker. He's not in these movies; that's Hayden Christianson pretending to be Anakin Skywalker. There's exactly one "real" moment in Ep III: when Anakin & Obi-Wan are riding the air-transport after crashing Grievous' ship. Obi-Wan has his foot up on the bench in front of him, exactly like real people do on the bus. Check out Palpatine's office: any executive toys or paperwork on his desk? Any casual interaction with his bodyguards or staff (as seen in every movie ever made involving a US President)? Yoda's quarters: he has a window, two ottoman-style benches, and. . . not much else (compare this to his cottage on Dagobah in ESB/RotJ, with pots & pans, blankets, pillows, and assorted other random bric-a-brac that you'd expect to find in someone's home).

Same thing happens all through RotS: the clonetroopers that just look off somehow (it's the CGI armour --it just doesn't move like real armour, it's too form-fitting and weightless), the Jedi acrobatics that always end with every fold and drape of clothing in place, the utterly sterile interpersonal relationships, the overly-tidy CGI sets, the way everybody ignores whatever room they're in ('cause the actors aren't in any rooms, they're in front of screens) or whatever's going on around them ('cause there isn't anything going on around them, it'll be added in post).

It's obvious that Lucas & Joss have very different styles (hell, imagine Lucas being on a first-name basis with his fans), and I think this has more to do with the differences between Serenity and RotS than just about anything else. Consider how RotS was filmed: digital, with as much done bluescreen as possible. Obviously, Joss didn't have near that budget, but even if he had, I doubt he'd have gone that way. Having real sets and on-set effects isn't just more economical, it helps the actors.

Yeah, I know, they're actors, they should be able to act anywhere, but there's a certain level of nuance that comes into play when actors are immersed in the world of their characters.

On Farscape, Ben Browder once commented that having the Rygel puppet on set let them block out scenes, improvise camera angles, ad-lib, and even improvise physical comedy --all behind-the-scenes things that (IMHO) came across on-camera in the undeniable chemistry of Moya's crew. No aliens on Firefly, but I'd imagine that, if there were, the same thing would apply --Joss would find a way to get them physically on-set, so his actors could take it and run with it. The aliens would have their own music, their own social hangups, their own clothes, etc.

Because he, and the actors, and the rest of his staff, would love it. It's why they're doing this. And it's why we watch. Love makes it "home."

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We applied the cortical electrodes but were unable to get a neural reaction from either patient.

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