The Akira Kurosawa season at the Filmhouse, which runs from the 22nd until the 30th of August, features thirteen classics from the great Japanese filmmaker. Kurosawa (1910-1998) was the first Japanese director to attract international acclaim, his historical drama Rashomon winning the Golden Lion at the 1951 Venice Film Festival.

The season starts with 1985’s Ran (meaning ‘chaos’ or ‘revolt’), a historical saga strongly reminiscent of King Lear. Kurosawa’s perfectionism and obsessive attention to detail earned him the nickname ‘Tenno’ (‘Emperor’) from his colleagues.

Seven Samurai (1954), which Kurosawa not only directed but co-wrote and edited, is among his best-loved works. In sixteenth century Japan, six masterless samurai and one enthusiastic farmboy (Toshiro Mifune) band together to defend a village from bandits. The direct inspiration for The Magnificent Seven and indirect inspiration for countless westerns since, not to mention The Three Amigos and A Bug’s Life.

Drunken Angel (1948) and I Live in Fear (1955) directly address contemporary anxieties in a post-war setting. In Drunken Angel, the first of Kurosawa’s sixteen films starring the great Toshiro Mifune, Mifune plays a gangster dying of tuberculosis, in a tense thriller set in the swampy atmosphere of Tokyo’s docklands.  Mifune again takes the lead in I Live in Fear, as an industrialist obsessed with the danger of another atomic attack on Japan.

The season also includes The Bad Sleep Well (1960), Stray Dog (1949) and Ikuru (1952). In The Bad Sleep Well, Mifune plays a young executive embroiled in a closely-observed saga of corporate corruption and nepotism, and in Stray Dog he plays a detective whose pistol is stolen, triggering a sequence of disastrous events set against the backdrop of a sweltering Tokyo summer during the US occupation.

Based on two short stories by Ryūnosuke Akutegawa (1892-1927), Rashomon explores the events surrounding a pair of brutal crimes in a desolate spot near Kyoto’s Rashomon gate from a variety of differing and conflicting perspectives. Both a compelling historical drama and an investigation into the nature of truth, the film launched Kurosawa’s international reputation.

Apparently influenced in part by the unreliable narrators of Robert Browning’s dramatic monologues, the film in turn provoked a memorable exchange between Marge and Homer in The Simpsons (Marge: ‘Come on Homer, Japan will be fun! You enjoyed Rashomon.’ Homer: ‘That’s not how I remember it...’).

Yojimbo (1961) and its sequel Sanjuro (1964) have been described as ‘samurai films noir’, although this hardly begins to cover their seamless blend of influences including Japanese traditional drama and literature alongside elements drawn from American westerns and detective novels, topped off (perhaps surprisingly) with a heavy dash of humour.

Kurosawa frequently acknowledged John Ford’s Westerns as a key inspiration, although accounts of an encounter between the two directors in person suggest the meeting of minds was somewhat underwhelming. ‘You really like rain,’ Ford is said to have observed. ‘You’ve really been paying attention to my films,’ Kurosawa allegedly replied. If some critics in Japan disapproved of Kurosawa’s assimilation of foreign influences, his subsequent shaping effect on world cinema has been immense.

Famously, George Lucas credits The Hidden Fortress (1958) with inspiring Star Wars - with C3PO and R2D2 modelled on Kurosawa’s squabbling pair of peasants bickering their way through a feudal war as they help a princess escape her enemies. Throne of Blood (1957) transposes Macbeth to medieval Japan, and ends with an impressively prolonged and unforgettable death scene, with Toshiro Mifune (again) stuck with so many arrows that he ends up staggering around like a grimacing porcupine.

In Red Beard (1965), set in the late nineteenth century, a young and ambitious recently-graduated medical student is sent to work in a free clinic in the remote countryside under Toshiro Mifune’s red-bearded senior doctor. Slowly, the arrogant younger man comes to respect his aloof superior, becomes part of the community and embraces the unglamorous responsibilities thrust upon him.

It shares several thematic concerns with Doc Hollywood, the lightweight 1991 Michael J. Fox vehicle, but only one of these two films is a moving, beautiful, thoughtfully-paced masterpiece directed by one of the true giants of cinema. When Red Beard does finally explode into a brilliantly-choreographed fight sequence, the effect is astonishing.

The film also marks the end of Kurosawa’s most productive period. Widely seen as old-fashioned and difficult to work with in Japan, and with the Japanese movie industry badly hit by the rise of television, Kurosawa would direct only five films over the next twenty years.

The Kurosawa season at the Filmhouse offers an unmissable chance to discover or rediscover these films on the big screen. Discount deals are available for those seeing more than three films in the season (see the Filmhouse website for more details). If you’re planning to go along, Kurosawa’s own account of his career, Something Like an Autobiography (published in English by Vintage Books) is a fascinating and valuable introduction to his work. The season in full is as follows:

• Kurosawa Season, Filmhouse, Edinburgh (22nd-30th August):
• Ran: Friday 22nd to Sat 23rd August
• Seven Samurai: Friday 22nd August
• I Live in Fear: Friday 22nd to Saturday 23rd August
• Drunken Angel: Saturday 23rd to Sunday 24th August
• Red Beard: Saturday 23rd to Sunday 24th August
• Rashomon: Sunday 24th to Monday 25th August
• The Bad Sleep Well: Monday 25th to Tuesday 26th August
• Yojimbo: Monday 25th to Tuesday 26th August
• Throne of Blood: Monday 25th to Tuesday 26th August
• Sanjuro: Tuesday 26th August
• Ikiru: Wednesday 27th to Saturday 30th August
• The Hidden Fortress: Wednesday 27th August
• Stray Dog: Thursday 28th August

Preview by Paul Vlitos

Visit the Filmhouse website for full details.

Mengisahkan pertemuan seorang Genin (samurai kelas rendah) dengan seorang perempuan tua di gerbang Rashomon, Kyoto. Konon, gerbang ini juga menjadi tempat pembuangan mayat-mayat tak dikenal hingga tak seorangpun berani mendekatinya di malam hari. Di dera rasa lapar yang hebat, terjadi dilema dalam benak Genin, apakah dia akan terus bertahan disitu atau membuang jauh-jauh harga dirinya dengan menjadi pencuri sebagai jalan terakhir bertahan hidup. Pertemuannya dengan sang perempuan tua awalnya menimbulkan rasa jijik di hati Genin karena melihat ulah perempuan itu yang mencuri rambut mayat-mayat yang tergeletak di Rashomon. Si perempuan tua berkilah bahwa ia terpaksa melakukan itu demi bertahan hidup, ditambah kenyataan bahwa salah satu mayat yang ia curi rambutnya dulu adalah seorang perempuan pedagang daging yang sering menipu konsumennya. Lalu bagaimana dengan Genin? Apakah dia akan terus berpegang pada prinsipnya untuk tidak mencuri?

Ryunosuke Akutagawa adalah penulis Jepang era Taisho yang dijuluki sebagai "Bapak Cerpenis Jepang". Sepanjang hidupnya, tercatat kurang lebih 150 cerpen yang telah ditulis Akutagawa dimana tujuh diantaranya dimuat dalam buku ini. Kisah Rashomon pertama kali diterbitkan pada tahun 1915 di Teikoku Bungaku dan sampai kini menjadi salah satu topik diskusi sah-tidaknya mencuri sesuatu demi bertahan hidup.

Buku yang wajib Anda baca!!!

Whatever you do, do *not* buy this book. If there was ever a sense of duping your readership, this is it. Marvel and Spidey's "Brain Trust"  of writers should be ashamed of themselves. Remember Dan Slott's fun-filled "Free Comic Book Day" issue of Amazing Spider-Man titled, Swing Shift? Remember how fun it was and how it brought back a lot of the core elements that made Spider-Man such a fun book?

I remember it well. The art was spectacular, the dialogue was hilarious, and being a free comic in itself was the icing on the cake. Earlier this year, Marvel reprinted the same story but charged $3.99 for the comic. Granted, they threw in a lot of goodies, changed the dialogue, and added in nice supplemental material, but in the end, fans were paying $3.99 for a reprint. A REPRINT!

With Amazing Spider-Man #564 Marvel and its writers have done the unthinkable. They've basically retold the same exact story we saw in Swing Shift (again), but this time three times in the same issue. And yes, I understand they're using a horrible gimmick (derived from Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon) of attempting to tell the story from three different perspectives, but it doesn't matter. We're still getting a retreaded story three times, and attention Spider-Man writers: It's not funny anymore.

Todd McFarlane isn't a great writer himself, but his Perceptions story arc in the adjectiveless Spider-Man was more entertaining and original than this turd. I really can't believe the level of arrogance and/or ignorance I've seen from this editorial team. Avoid this issue like the plague and come back next week when (hopefully) we get "new" story. The only redeeming factor is Paulo Siquiera's art. At least it's pretty to look at.

Brand New Day, my ass. (Grade: F+)

A Second Opinion

I wrote the following review before reading Jason's, and I'm not quite inclined to be as negative as he was. Though I should mention that I haven't read Swing Shift nor seen Rashomon.

While there may not have been too much to complain about in this issue, it certainly wasn’t memorable either. Taking a page from the movie Vantage Point, the story within is told three times, each from a different point of view (namely Spider-Man, Vin Gonzales, and Overdrive). The entire story is really one long chase scene as Overdrive tries to escape Spider-Man, and Vin futilely tries to capture them both. We also see that Overdrive was attempting to steal something for Mr. Negative. If anything, the purpose of this issue was to serve as a reminder that Mr. Negative and Overdrive are still out there, and that we will get more stories from them eventually. If these were appealing characters, this knowledge might excite me, but seeing as how neither one interests me, I really don’t care whether or not we learn more about them.

The art isn’t exactly unforgettable either. Don’t get me wrong, Paulo Siquiera’s pencils are solid, his action and “spider-poses” are well conveyed, backgrounds are lush fill instead of being devoid of objects, and the facial expressions are lifelike for the most part. If anything, the only complaint I have about his work is that Peter looks somewhat childish. I know Marvel wants to convey Peter Parker as being young, but certainly not as young as he looks here. Still, this only consists of three panels, so therefore only a small flaw and forgivable. But despite an overall good job in art, it still isn’t spectacular, just average.

Looking back, this review sounds a bit negative, but I did not intend it to sound that way. There is certainly nothing majorly wrong with this issue, but it feels like an average read to me. Even Spidey’s humor, which is funny, isn’t anything that I’ll be remembering for a long time. So anyone who regularly reads Spider-Man will probably get this and get some run of the mill entertainment. But to those who choose not to pick this up, you won’t be missing out on anything. (Grade: C)

-M. Staples

It would be easy to point out Akira Kurosawa's great films like Rashomon or Seven Samurai as examples of his work, but there's something to be said about his lesser known films - films that speak volumes and contain moments that are difficult to find anywhere else. He makes as a director and storyteller and he has his actors make very bold decisions. More often than not these choices will make an otherwise mediocre or common melodramatic film quite remarkable and incredibly memorable.

Take for instance Kurosawa's I Live in Fear starring Toshiro Mifune. Mifune plays Kiichi Nakajima the elderly owner of a foundry. Wanting to preserve his family's lives he wishes to move them all, lovers and bastard children included, to South America so as to avoid a Nuclear holocaust in Japan. Needless to say this story takes place post World War II. But his children will have none of it and take him to court, so that they can prove their father incapable of handling the family's fortune.

It's an interesting enough idea for a film. Kurosawa introduces us to Nakajima's family through one of the Domestic Court Counselor's put on the case, Dr. Harada, a dentist played by another Kurosawa mainstay, Takashi Shimura. We follow Harada as he leaves his family dentist business and goes to the court. Next we're introduced to the squabbling family members, who seem more concerned about how they'll continue making money for themselves than they are about the wishes of their Father. They are quick to apologize for belittling Harada before knowing who he is. But you still don't get a sense of who's film this is. Harada is shot from behind, a silent observer...very meek, humble.

He's allowed into the court room, and there, standing center camera is an older gentleman, with thick glasses, and a scowl on his face, and with a deliberate flap he pops open his folding fan and quickly airs himself off. We're drawn immediately to that flap of the fan, and to Mifune's Gorilla like performance. He spits the word "fools" out when speaking of his children. You now know who's story this is. The boldness of a singular movement with the fan speaks volumes. And this gesture is taken advantage of whole heartedly and with great effect throughout the rest of the film.

In this first scene with Kiichi, the patriarch of this crumbling family, Kurosawa holds the wide shot, keeping Mifune dead center. But suddenly in a fit of rage Kichii's hand swings down. The camera suddenly jumps to a close up of the hand hitting the desk, overturning a glass full of liquid. Emphasis. This boldness of visual directing and strong character choices signifies Kurosawa's career as a director and Mifune's collaboration with him as an actor.

The gasping and panting death scene Mifune has in Seven Samurai, the slow motion shot of a downed thief by Shimura's samurai blade in the same film, pretty much every moment of Rashomon is filled with distinctly bold decisions (the structure itself breaks about every convention imaginabe), Ran is full of bold colors and violence, the final shot of Sanjuro holds on the two samurai as they stare each other down for an incredibly extended moment of time - then in one quick movement and spray of blood their fates are decided. Pick up any number of Kurosawa's films and you'll see this same boldness at work.

This type of boldness feels largely lacking in our modern era of cinema. It feels largely lacking in any form of storytelling from novels to live theatre. There's a comfort that studios and publishers take in the same old thing. Or a pandering ensues that studios seem to lap up. Few directors or writers attempt to play with the reality of the world around us. Little is exaggerated for effect, instead everything is grounded to help keep the reality of the situation supposedly easy to relate to. I can name off a handful of directors that reach and claw for such moments of levity, sometimes to great effect - sometimes to cinematic floundering. The Coen Brothers, Paul Thomas Anderson, Alexander Payne, David Lynch, Takashi Miike, David Cronenberg and M. Knight Shyamalan spring to mind. (As does Chuck Palahniuk as far as novels go.)

The most recent of these that I've seen is Shyamalan's The Happening. Shyamalan makes very bold decisions, but in a different way than Kurosawa. He tries to avoid all of the cliches of the modern disaster movie. For one, he holds shots for too long and at a distance so we feel helpless, where as other big budget disaster films throw you into the explosions and cut around quickly.

As Jim Emerson describes in his write up, certain coverage shots to help define spacial relationships are left out. I hardly think that this is a fault that the film holds, as Emerson feels. By leaving out shots that give us our bearings we're left with several sequences that are almost surreal and dream-like in nature: the bodies dropping off of the roof of the construction site one after the next, floating to a ground we can't see is a great example. It's not horrifying, but strange. It's the line from the construction worker that kills the moment.

This visual trickery is meant to put us into the shoes of the people witnessing these events. It's not scary but so bewildering that a person shouldn't know how to react. If the person next to you suddenly and without warning committed suicide, how would you feel? Then a few feet away another person, then another person. I don't know if you'd feel scared for your life, but you'd probably feel down right left helpless. Leaving the audience with the feeling of bewilderment and helplessness times 10 as Shyamalan does is perhaps a bad goal to shoot for, because that's what they leave the theatre feeling. Even though he pretty much hits us over the head with the message of the film.

So what constitutes a bold choice worth taking and one that's not worth taking? Where is that line drawn? Watching Day Lewis's performance as Daniel Plainview, at what point does it become too much. Bold for the sake of being bold. At what point does boldness become cheap shock? I think boldness becomes cheap when the filmmaker stops being honest and/or doesn't treat his audience with emotional respect.

I agree with most other reviewers, including Emerson, that Shyamalan treats his audience like idiots at times during The Happening. I also felt that there were moments in which his bold decisions became almost exhibitionist in nature. As when the two kids are blown away by shotguns at point blank range. It was a cheap moment.

In Hostel I and II, a much lesser film in theory than The Happening, Eli Roth shows great skill as to when gratuitous violence is worth showing and when it isn't. To not show something sometimes is a far more bold decision than to show something. For instance in Brian DePalma's Mission Impossible he slowly fades out just as Tom Cruise takes his woman's hand.

I digress, let's look at the flap of the folding fan again, if Mifune hadn't committed completely to that one swift movement at any one occasion it would have been silly. It would have been dishonest. And the believability of the film and the character would have suffered, because everything hinged on those singular beats of Mifune's performance. You would have seen through the guise, that the movie was created to impart a message or a moral -- Nuclear weaponry is bad!

Now look at The Happening. Where in the film do the performances, the script or the direction become dishonest? When are decisions made that break from the believability of the world Shyamalan is creating. A world that, like I Live in Fear, is there to present a message -- treat our environment with care, Shyamalan screams at us, as Kurosawa did about the awful power of the H-Bomb. I've already named a few moments that for me distract from the reality of the film in their blatant disregard for, not logic, but emotional intelligence among the audience members.

Takashi Miike is another one of those directors who's films sometimes blow me away with their bold choices and other times turn me off when things are done just to shock us into submission.

Consider these questions with any film that attempts to be bold. There Will Be Blood and No Country for Old Men. 12 Monkeys and L'Age D'or. Lust/Caution and Psycho. And hopefully more bold decisions like moments in many of these films will continue to be made. Remember, if movies like The Happening weren't attempted, we also wouldn't have movies like Unbreakable, which is bold in how it deals with the relationships of its characters and then how it concludes, and feels just right.

Stories are enormously important and so far I've heard two stories about this.

Story 1: Obama, seeing a strategic opportunity to humiliate his opponent and raise unparalleled dollar$, which he claims he will need to survive the blistering attacks which destroyed Gore and Kerry, renounces public funding.

Story 2: Obama, seeing a way to break with politics as usual and enliven his populist grassroots support, renounces public financing.

I say there are elements of the truth, of what "really happened", in both stories. Obama has thus far proved to be extremely good at managing his image, and he's done well with this potentially volatile campaign finance thing. NYTimes columnist David Brooks wrote very astutely that the Obama video, "made a cut-throat political calculation seem like Mother Theresa's final steps to sainthood."

Now the role of the political press, no less than the candidates themselves, is to fit complex issues into easily digestible narratives. The genre of these narratives usually varies along with the medium -- compare talk radio political analysis with op-ed pages and you'll see vastly different storytelling strategies at work. But the goal is always the same: tell a story that people will understand and believe.

Brooks likens BHO to a split personality sociopath, which is much more common as a Hollywood trope than as a real psychological condition. It was immortalized in Robert Louis Stephenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and later found many more incarnations in Hollywood film.

Now this whole good/evil split personality thing may be a good way to tell a gripping story, but it is way too simplistic to encapsulate this kind of politics. If, like Brooks, I wanted to use what is essentially a cinematic metaphor to explain the situation, I'd turn to Rashomon, the classic Kurosawa film in which a murder is retold from different perspectives and nobody can figure out what really happened.

Both Story 1 and Story 2, if repeated enough times, will become the truth. As the Commoner points out in Rashomon, "we all want to forget something, so we tell stories. It's easier that way."

I'm no Kurosawa scholar, but I can point to a few facts: Japanese movies of the 1950's tended to attack more difficult topics, using more puzzling and engrossing storytelling techniques than their Hollywood contemporaries. Plus Japan in 1950 was still reeling from the insanity of WWII. Appropriately, then, most all of Kurosawa's films from this period blur the boundaries between truth and fiction, dwelling instead on how it's really impossible to get to the root of things, on how human existence is ultimately futile.

Rashomon is set in 12th century feudal Japan, the classic Samurai movie setting, a time when the island was divided into many warlord states with complex inter-related power relationships. You can't trust anyone, samurai have all sworn loyalty to their masters and yet everyone has a price, real power is largely hidden. Today's political landscape is a lot like this!

Obama calls the public financing system "broken", which the NYtimes editorial says is "only half true." He calls his system of getting funding "public" even though its made up of private donations. But the "public" system which is in place allows for donations from corporate interests and so-called 527 "shadow groups," so how can it be considered "public"? Who knows what the "real" story is?

The Brooks article definitely called my attention to the fact that by refusing to play by the rules, Obama has outed himself as a political trickster. But then that's a good thing! (especially if you're trying to survive in feudal Japan.) Like I said, he has shown an amazing capacity for managing his image so far. So it's encouraging that unlike Gore or Kerry, Obama may be able to weave a compelling counter-narrative for himself when the general election rolls around and the smear ads really start to fly.

Rashomon: Kumpulan Cerita Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Penulis: Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Tebal: 167 halaman

Penerbit: KPG (Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia)

Sambil menggigit sepotong roti, sekilas aku melihat arloji. Hari sudah pukul satu lewat dua puluh menit. Ada yang seketika itu mengagetkanku; sesosok bayangan wajah seram tercermin sekilas pada kaca bulat arloji. Aku segera menoleh ke belakang; dan untuk pertama kalinya aku melihat makhluk kappa! Ia berdiri di atas karang di belakangku dengan sebelah tangannya memegang batang pohon shirakaba dan tangan lainnya dipayungkannya di atas matanya yang memandangiku dengan rasa ingin tahu. (Kappa, hlm. 33-34)

Cuplikan dari novelet Kappa di atas adalah salah satu dari tujuh cerita yang terdapat pada buku ini. Cerita ini pernah kubaca beberapa tahun yang lalu, dan memberikan kesan yang mendalam. Baru sekarang aku mengetahui bahwa novelet ini ditulis oleh Akutagawa Ryunosuke, salah satu cerpenis terbaik Jepang.

Karya-karya terkenal Akutagawa lainnya, seperti Rashomon, Benang Laba-laba (Kumo no Ito), Di Dalam Belukar (Yabu no Naka), dan Hidung disajikan dengan apik dalam buku ini. Seperti dalam resensinya, Akutagawa ingin menggambarkan betapa tipis dan licinnya batas antara buruk dan bagus, jahat dan baik, hina dan mulia, bohong dan jujur, serta salah dan benar. Akhirnya buku ini memberikan pelajaran mengenai sifat dasar manusia dan kebijaksanaan dalam hidup.

image courtesy of KPG

Spoiler here: The president is attending a summit addressing terrorism in some foreign country (I can't remember the country), and gets assassinated. But does he...???

Surprisingly, this was one of the better action/thrillers I've seen so far this year. It's told in Rashomon-style, replaying the same story with several different perspectives. William Hurt is the president, Matthew Fox (from Lost) and Dennis Quaid (from In Good Company, Traffic, and Far From Heaven) are his bodyguards. Forest Whitaker from The Last King of Scotland (which was amazing, by the way) is this tourist with a video camera. Sigourney Weaver had a small role as a newscast director. This film actually had a pretty all-star cast.

It won't keep you guessing until the end, but there are some decent chase scenes and plenty of suspense.

Cast & Credits

Directed by Akira Kurosawa. Written by Akira Kurosawa & Shinobu Hashimoto; based on the stories Rashomon and In a Grove by Ryunosuke Akutagawa. MPAA: Not Rated. Runtime: 88 min. Language: Japanese.

Ask some film buff to name a Japanese film director. The first answer (may be the only answer) would be Akira Kurosawa. The name of Akira Kurosawa has become synonymous with samurai cinema. His film techniques have been the fuel to numerous other filmmakers around the world including George Lucas and Kamal Haasan. The powerful imagery he assembles in his shots produces a terrific impact on the viewer's minds instantly. Ironically, this film genius is recognized more outside Japan than in it.

Perhaps his most famous film, Rashomon is one venture that changed not only the way the world looked at cinema, but also introduced a new term in English, The Rashomon Effect. The sheer minimalist mode that the film is shot in, sets up the mood for such a thrill. The shot where the woodcutter comes across the corpse early on is shown from the point of view of the corpse and looks as if it is going to get him. This innovation instantly familiarizes us with the corpse as a character that is to come later in the movie. Also, the use of rain as a metaphor for the pettiness of human nature and negative connotation of man's ego provides that dream ending one expects.

Take Yojimbo for instance, the film that spawned a new genre of movies called the spaghetti westerns. The bodyguard has just lost his identity and wanders into a barren town. The shot where he realizes that the town is war-torn is probably the most thrilling moment of the movie. A dog comes around a corner carrying a human hand! The vast barren stretches of land in the movie are reminiscent of the wild west, providing the perfect platform for remake into Fistful Of Dollars.

Adapted from Shakespeare's Macbeth, Throne Of Blood provides a whole new interpretation to the work. An ambitious man who is manipulated by his wicked mistress and the reasons for his subsequent fall. The story is cleverly blended with Japanese folklore and the feudal system to provide a whole new look. Toshiro Mifune's best performance may just be in this movie. He does a perfect job as a man who is swallowed by his own pride.

In one of my favorites, The Lower Depths, Kurosawa adapts the Maxim Gorky work into the slums of Japan and the various issues there. The final scene where one of the partying inmates of the house exclaims after the suicide of the wretched wannabe-actor ("Stupid actor, he spoiled all the fun") defines the whole life in the slums and portrays their everyday struggles with ease. The Lower Depths remains one of his most underrated works.

I always wanted to be on the edge, running for life, saving some, chasing some and be one with killer instincts, somehow my job just does not give me that. Watching Dennis Quaid in Vantage Point got my dreaming memories back, at least I have seen one living such a life in the movies.

Vantage Point is a political thriller, the story revolves around the time before and after the assasination of the US President in broad day light at the venue where a historic Anti-Terrorism agreement is to be signed. The story moves around the view points of 5 different participants. The direction is of the "Rashomon's" type.

Altogether the speed of the movie is stunning, pay close attention to detail, it is definitely not a pop-corn movie.

As usual the American audience have poooh pooohed it, the same reception that "Last Samurai" got. Don't know why Americans hate these kind of movies, may be they have seen these kind of movies too many times or they are just pop-corn movie buffs.

Anyways for all the buddies who have trusted me and watched Last Samurai and for all those who have taken the initiative to watch Last Samurai themselves, I have a gut feeling you will definitely like it, till then signing off with dreams of such a career.

The X-Files episode "Jose Chung's From Outer Space" use sfnal ideas to think about the subjective nature of perception itself. This theme is sometimes called the Rashomon effect, named after Akira Kurosawa's film Rashomon, in which a crime witnessed by four individuals is described in four mutually contradictory ways. Here's a definition: The Rashomon effect is the effect of the subjectivity of perception on recollection, by which observers of an event are able to produce substantially different but equally plausible accounts of it. Notice how the episode goes about producing this effect. How is this episode using science fiction to produce this effect? What stories and ideas is it playing with from the field? And why?

The last time I watched the X-Files was when I was a kid, sitting on the floor beside my brother, Mom, and Dad on a Friday night. I remember the intro being very scary. So I was quite surprised watching today's episode of the series. As you said, it blended both the mythology and monster episodes fairly well. Having some basic understanding of Mulder's and Scully's personality made the perceptions of others more funny. Overall, this episode was just surprisingly humorous.

There are some typical sf elements in the episode: the aliens, abductions, government conspiracy, mysterious sightings, strange experiments, hypnotism, and the like. While all of these elements were used in a humorous way, the episode uses Jose Chung's and Scully's interview as a discussion about perception and the Rashomon effect.

This structure of this episode begins with the mystery of the abduction. It continues to reveal the mystery and build a story at the same time by examining various characters' recounts through their perceptions. Obviously, the episode shows that their narratives are contradictory and may be warped. For example, the audience may see Roky Crickenson's account of his strange visitation as unreliable because he is nutty.

However, the mythology aspect of the episode calls our attention to Mulder's and Scully's perceptions also. Anyone who has watched some X-Files knows to wonder whether Mulder or Scully is actually closer to the truth. The audience must ask, can these characters really approach their line of work with an open mind or are they restricted by their biases?

At the conclusion of the episode, Jose Chung says, "For although Agent Diana Lesky is noble spirit and pure of heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee." Scully is still Agent Scully and her perceptions are influenced by that fact.

Chung continues to describe, "As for her partner, Reynard Muldrake... that ticket time bomb of insanity... his quest into the unknown has so warped his psyche, one shudders to think how he receives pleasures from life." The camera then cuts to show Mulder lying in his bed, shirtless, watching footage of Bigfoot in the woods. Mulder's past is the key that drives him to do his work and may very well influence his perceptions surrounding these strange events in every episode.

Whether there really aliens or not, it is clear that people's experiences and memory shape their perceptions.

Certainly, the structure of the episode causes the viewer to continually wonder what is happening throughout the show. Whose story is really correct? If Person A is telling the truth, how does that account fit with Person B's account? We wonder about how hypnotism works; we wonder about being abducted and what it is like to be on an alien ship. We wonder what Blaine Faulkner went through to cause him to want to be abducted, alienate humanity, or be an outcast of society? We wonder who the black men are and whether they are truly paranormal. We wonder whether Jack Schaffer was truly the smoking alien on the spaceship and, if so, why Harold Lamb saw him as an alien and not as a human. The nature of sf causes the viewer to wonder about these kinds of things because viewers know they cannot be sure of the world in the show-although the X-Files world is set in our world, it is not the world as we understand it.

We also see the Rashomon effect used in the scenes where Crissy Giorgio undergoes hypnotism. In both events, she describes two very different accounts with disturbing similarities. In the first scene, she is in a room surrounded by aliens. In the second scene, she is held in a room and is questioned by air force and CIA men. In both events, she's informed that what they are doing to her is for the good of the planet/country. In both events, she is scared, and replies that they are "stealing [her] memories." Both accounts are equally plausible, but it is disturbing that as a viewer, I don't know which account is the truth, whether both are true, whether I can trust hypnosis, or whether she is reliable at all.

This show delves deeper into the Rashomon effect with Jack Schaffer's character. When Mulder interviews Shaffer, we see that Shaffer's experiences have given him insight into the mind's workings. Shaffer says, "I can't be sure of anything anymore! I'm not sure we're even having this conversation. I don't know if these mashed potatoes are really here. I don't' know if you even exist." Shaffer's knowledge of the aliens' tampering with human minds and perhaps even his experiences of being tortured by the aliens has not only warped his perceptions, but also instilled a doubt in his existence, thus, reality. To use a Matrix reference, Shaffer like someone who has been jacked out of the matrix.

I didn't recognize many of the references, except for the obvious Men in Black and Vader's imperial ship references, so I had to look this one up. Wikipedia lists many cultural references from the show and I'll include some interesting ones.

• The "Klass County, Washington" card is a nod to Philip J. Klass, a journalist "known for his skepticism regarding UFOs."
• The fake alien autopsy refers to a similar film shown on "Fox Network in 1995, hosted by Ray Santilli."
• Jessee Ventura and Alex Trebek play the roles of the Men in Black.
• In his interview with Mulder, Lt. Shaffer "molds his mashed potatoes into a mountain shape..." which is a "reference to a similar scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind," a 1977 sf film directed by Steven Spielberg.
• At the end, Mulder is laying in bed watching Patterson-Gimlin film, a first recording of Bigfoot.
• The cover of From Outer Space refers to the book Communion, written by American ufologist Whitley Strieber.
• The character known as Rocky Crickensen is a "reference to the singer, songwriter Roky Erickson, who claimed to have been abducted by aliens."
• Jose Chung's character is "loosely based on author Truman Capote. His remarks about creating a ‘non-fiction science-fiction" and the time he spent in the small town researching his book echo the development of Capote's famous non-fiction novel In Cold Blood."

Work Cited

Quotes from:
http://www.insidethex.co/uk/transcrp/scrp320.htm

Wikipedia Cultural References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jose_Chung_%22From_Outer_Space%22

© 2008

I was watching Akira Kurosawa's famous Rashomon yesterday, and I can see why it's such a classic film. I think it did have one flaw, which critic after critic has pointed out - it is too monotonous. The film uses only four locations, and the same characters, who are more or less doing the same things over and over - add to that the black and white and it's a boring, boring watch.

The classic takes place in Japan, where a woodcutter narrates a story to a man who has taken shelter from the rain. The woodcutter claims to have found a dead body and was produced before the court, where four testimonies regarding the incident are narrated, therefore we see a flashback-within-a-flashback. Who is telling the truth? Who can be trusted? Is the woodcutter telling the truth? The entire movie leaves this an enigma, but not as an enigma, but a question that is meant to be appreciated, not answered.

Still, it was an artistic treat, especially the parts devoid of any dialogue for several minutes, or the subliminal commentary on the human condition that runs throughout the movie, as well as the mild eulogy on the subjectivity of truth. While the movie could have used some more originality, I thought it had fantastic editing and soundwork.

I'll have to look into the ending, though. It was a rather unusual ending - while it does help conclude the film's philosophical themes, questioning morality and the human condition, as a plot it feels unsatisfying. Then again, to be frank, it was a relief the movie ended at last.

Vantage Point did just fine at the box office without my help ($70 million), but if I were a Hollywood executive, my tagline for this movie would read:

It's Groundhog Day meets JFK!

The first eight minutes of the movie show the President of the United States (William Hurt) being shot at a global terror summit in Spain.

Or was he?

Yes, he was.  Kind of.

Don't worry, I didn't ruin anything there.  It's in the trailer. 

After eight minutes, the camera rewinds (we even hear annoying "rewinding tape" sound effects) and we see the assassination take place from a different, wait for it... vantage point!  Only this time we might get a glimpse of the shooter.

Or do we?

Yes, we do.  Kind of.

Another eight minutes goes by, the camera rewinds again (queue "rewind" sound) and we see the assassination take place from a different – you guessed it – vantage point.  Only this time we see that someone placed a bomb underneath the stage where the President was shot.

Or do we?  Or was he?

I don't know.

The camera rewinds again.  At this point, everyone in the theater starts laughing.  This goes on a few more times, and after 45-minutes we've seen the same thing happen eight times in a row.

Or was he shot?

Yes, he was.

But was it really him?

Kind of.

Around halfway through the movie we learn that the President wasn't even at the stupid conference.  Apparently, there was a high-risk that an assassination attempt was going to be made on the President at the summit, so instead of taking any chances, they sent an identical double in place of the President.  Kind of like the movie, Dave.

Question: What moron would sign up for that job? 

The real President was back in a hotel room across the street, checking out the adult section of On Demand.  And, no, I'm not ruining anything by telling you that, because its inexplicably part of the original trailer.

You'd think they'd want to keep the biggest plot-twist out of the trailers, but what do I know?

If I say anything else I risk giving away the only plot-twist that they didn't give away in the trailer, so I'll shut and just tell you that this movie is really lame.  If you want to see a really good movie about seeing a crime from different vantage points, rent Rashômon instead.

Pero ese día no se veía ningún cuervo, tal vez por ser demasiado tarde. En la escalera de piedra, que se derrumbaba a trechos y entre cuyas grietas crecía la hierba, podían verse los blancos excrementos de estas aves. El sirviente vestía un gastado kimono azul, y sentado en el último de los siete escalones contemplaba distraídamente la lluvia, mientras concentraba su atención en el grano de la mejilla derecha.

Como decía, el sirviente estaba esperando que cesara la lluvia; pero de cualquier manera no tenía ninguna idea precisa de lo que haría después. En circunstancias normales, lo natural habría sido volver a casa de su amo; pero unos días antes éste lo había despedido, no obstante los largos años que había estado a su servicio. El suyo era uno de los tantos problemas surgidos del precipitado derrumbe de la prosperidad de Kyoto.

Por eso, quizás, hubiera sido mejor aclarar: “el sirviente espera en el portal sin saber qué hacer, ya que no tiene adónde ir". Es cierto que, por otra parte, el tiempo oscuro y tormentoso había deprimido notablemente el sentimentalismo de este sirviente de la época Heian.

Habiendo comenzado a llover a mediodía, todavía continuaba después del atardecer. Perdido en un mar de pensamientos incoherentes, buscando algo que le permitiera vivir desde el día siguiente y la manera de obrar frente a ese inexorable destino que tanto lo deprimía, el sirviente escuchaba, abstraído, el ruido de la lluvia sobre la Avenida Sujaku.

La lluvia parecía recoger su ímpetu desde lejos, para descargarlo estrepitosamente sobre Rashomon, como envolviéndolo. Alzando la vista, en el cielo oscuro se veía una pesada nube suspendida en el borde de una teja inclinada.

"Para escapar a esta maldita suerte -pensó el sirviente- no puedo esperar a elegir un medio, ni bueno ni malo, pues si empezara a pensar sin duda me moriría de hambre en medio del camino o en alguna zanja; luego me traerían aquí, a esta torre, dejándome tirado como a un perro. Pero si no elijo..."

Su pensamiento, tras mucho rondar la misma idea, había llegado por fin a este punto. Pero ese "si no elijo..." quedó fijo en su mente. Aparentemente estaba dispuesto a emplear cualquier medio; pero al decir "si no..." demostró no tener el valor suficiente para confesarse rotundamente: "no me queda otro remedio que convertirme en ladrón".

Lanzó un fuerte estornudo y se levantó con lentitud. El frío anochecer de Kyoto hacía aflorar el calor del fuego. El viento, en la penumbra, gemía entre los pilares. El grillo que se posaba en la gruesa columna había desaparecido.

Con la cabeza metida entre los hombros paseó la mirada en torno del edificio; luego levantó las hombreras del kimono azul que llevaba sobre una delgada ropa interior. Se decidió por fin a pasar la noche en algún lugar que le permitiera guarecerse de la lluvia y del viento, en donde nadie lo molestara.

El sirviente descubrió otra escalera ancha, también laqueada, que parecía conducir a la torre. Ahí arriba nadie lo podría molestar, excepto los muertos. Cuidando de que no se deslizara su espada de la vaina sujeta a la cintura, el sirviente puso su pie calzado con sandalias sobre el primer peldaño.

Minutos después, en mitad de la amplia escalera que conducía a la torre de Rashomon, un hombre acurrucado como un gato, con la respiración contenida, observaba lo que sucedía más arriba. La luz procedente de la torre brillaba en la mejilla del hombre; una mejilla que bajo la corta barba descubría un grano colorado, purulento. El hombre, es decir el sirviente, había pensado que dentro de la torre sólo hallaría cadáveres; pero subiendo dos o tres escalones notó que había luz, y que alguien la movía de un lado a otro. Lo supo cuando vio su reflejo mortecino, amarillento, oscilando de un modo espectral en el techo cubierto de telarañas. ¿Qué clase de persona encendería esa luz en Rashomon, en una noche de lluvia como aquélla?

Silencioso como un lagarto, el sirviente se arrastró hasta el último peldaño de la empinada escalera. Con el cuerpo encogido todo lo posible y el cuello estirado, observó medrosamente el interior de la torre.

Confirmando los rumores, vio allí algunos cadáveres tirados negligentemente en el suelo. Como la luz de la llama iluminaba escasamente a su alrededor, no pudo distinguir la cantidad; únicamente pudo ver algunos cuerpos vestidos y otros desnudos, de hombres y mujeres. Los hombros, el pecho y otras partes recibían una luz agonizante, que hacía más densa la sombra en los restantes miembros.

Unos con la boca abierta, otros con los brazos extendidos, ninguno daba más señales de vida que un muñeco de barro. Al verlos entregados a ese silencio eterno, el sirviente dudó que hubiesen vivido alguna vez.

El hedor que despedían los cuerpos ya descompuestos le hizo llevar rápidamente la mano a la nariz. Pero un instante después olvidó ese gesto. Una impresión más violenta anuló su olfato al ver que alguien estaba inclinado sobre los cadáveres.

Era una vieja escuálida, canosa y con aspecto de mona, vestida con un kimono de tono ciprés. Sosteniendo con la mano derecha una tea de pino, observaba el rostro de un muerto, que por su larga cabellera parecía una mujer.

Poseído más por el horror que por la curiosidad, el sirviente contuvo la respiración por un instante, sintiendo que se le erizaban los pelos. Mientras observaba aterrado, la vieja colocó su tea entre dos tablas del piso, y sosteniendo con una mano la cabeza que había estado mirando, con la otra comenzó a arrancarle el cabello, uno por uno; parecía desprenderse fácilmente.

A medida que el cabello se iba desprendiendo, cedía gradualmente el miedo del sirviente; pero al mismo tiempo se apoderaba de él un incontenible odio hacia esa vieja. Ese odio -pronto lo comprobó- no iba dirigido sólo contra la vieja, sino contra todo lo que simbolizase “el mal", por el que ahora sentía vivísima repugnancia. Si en ese instante le hubiera sido dado elegir entre morir de hambre o convertirse en ladrón -el problema que él mismo se había planteado hacía unos instantes- no habría vacilado en elegir la muerte. El odio y la repugnancia ardían en él tan vivamente como la tea que la vieja había clavado en el piso.

Él no sabía por qué aquella vieja robaba cabellos; por consiguiente, no podía juzgar su conducta. Pero a los ojos del sirviente, despojar de las cabelleras a los muertos de Rashomon, y en una noche de tormenta como ésa, cobraba toda la apariencia de un pecado imperdonable. Naturalmente, este nuevo espectáculo le había hecho olvidar que sólo momentos antes él mismo había pensado hacerse ladrón.

Reunió todas sus fuerzas en las piernas, y saltó con agilidad desde su escondite; con la mano en su espada, en una zancada se plantó ante la vieja. Ésta se volvió aterrada, y al ver al hombre retrocedió bruscamente, tambaleándose.

-¡Adónde vas, vieja infeliz! -gritó cerrándole el paso, mientras ella intentaba huir pisoteando los cadáveres.

La suerte estaba echada. Tras un breve forcejeo el hombre tomó a la vieja por el brazo (de puro hueso y piel, más bien parecía una pata de gallina), y retorciéndoselo, la arrojó al suelo con violencia:

-¿Qué estabas haciendo? Contesta, vieja; si no, hablará esto por mí.

Diciendo esto, el sirviente la soltó, desenvainó su espada y puso el brillante metal frente a los ojos de la vieja. Pero ésta guardaba un silencio malicioso, como si fuera muda. Un temblor histérico agitaba sus manos y respiraba con dificultad, con los ojos desorbitadas. Al verla así, el sirviente comprendió que la vieja estaba a su merced. Y al tener conciencia de que una vida estaba librada al azar de su voluntad, todo el odio que había acumulado se desvaneció, para dar lugar a un sentimiento de satisfacción y de orgullo; la satisfacción y el orgullo que se sienten al realizar una acción y obtener la merecida recompensa. Miró el sirviente a la vieja y suavizando algo la voz, le dijo:

-Escucha. No soy ningún funcionario imperial. Soy un viajero que pasaba accidentalmente por este lugar. Por eso no tengo ningún interés en prenderte o en hacer contigo nada en particular. Lo que quiero es saber qué estabas haciendo aquí hace un momento.

La vieja abrió aún más los ojos y clavó su mirada en el hombre; una mirada sarcástica, penetrante, con esos ojos sanguinolentos que suelen tener ciertas aves de rapiña. Luego, como masticando algo, movió los labios, unos labios tan arrugados que casi se confundían con la nariz. La punta de la nuez se movió en la garganta huesuda. De pronto, una voz áspera y jadeante como el graznido de un cuervo llegó a los oídos del sirviente:

-Yo, sacaba los cabellos... sacaba los cabellos... para hacer pelucas...

Ante una respuesta tan simple y mediocre el sirviente se sintió defraudado. La decepción hizo que el odio y la repugnancia lo invadieran nuevamente, pero ahora acompañados por un frío desprecio. La vieja pareció adivinar lo que el sirviente sentía en ese momento y, conservando en la mano los largos cabellos que acababa de arrancar, murmuró con su voz sorda y ronca:

-Ciertamente, arrancar los cabellos a los muertos puede parecerle horrible; pero ninguno de éstos merece ser tratado de mejor modo. Esa mujer, por ejemplo, a quien le saqué estos hermosos cabellos negros, acostumbraba vender carne de víbora desecada en la Barraca de los Guardianes, haciéndola pasar nada menos que por pescado. Los guardianes decían que no conocían pescado más delicioso. No digo que eso estuviese mal pues de otro modo se hubiera muerto de hambre. ¿Qué otra cosa podía hacer? De igual modo podría justificar lo que yo hago ahora. No tengo otro remedio, si quiero seguir viviendo. Si ella llegara a saber lo que le hago, posiblemente me perdonaría.

Mientras tanto el sirviente había guardado su espada, y con la mano izquierda apoyada en la empuñadura, la escuchaba fríamente. La derecha tocaba nerviosamente el grano purulento de la mejilla. Y en tanto la escuchaba, sintió que le nacía cierto coraje, el que le faltara momentos antes bajo el portal. Además, ese coraje crecía en dirección opuesta al sentimiento que lo había dominado en el instante de sorprender a la vieja. El sirviente no sólo dejó de dudar (entre elegir la muerte o convertirse en ladrón) sino que en ese momento el tener que morir de hambre se había convertido para él en una idea absurda, algo por completo ajeno a su entendimiento.

-¿Estás segura de lo que dices? -preguntó en tono malicioso y burlón.

De pronto quitó la mano del grano, avanzó hacia ella y tomándola por el cuello le dijo con rudeza:

-Y bien, no me guardarás rencor si te robo, ¿verdad? Si no lo hago, también yo me moriré de hambre.

Seguidamente, despojó a la vieja de sus ropas, y como ella tratara de impedirlo aferrándosele a las piernas, de un puntapié la arrojó entre los cadáveres. En cinco pasos el sirviente estuvo en la boca de la escalera; y en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, con la amarillenta ropa bajo el brazo, descendió los peldaños hacia la profundidad de la noche.

Un momento después la vieja, que había estado tendida como un muerto más, se incorporó, desnuda. Gruñendo y gimiendo, se arrastró hasta la escalera, a la luz de la antorcha que seguía ardiendo. Asomó la cabeza al oscuro vacío y los cabellos blancos le cayeron sobre la cara.

Abajo, sólo la noche negra y muda.

Adónde fue el sirviente, nadie lo sabe.

The story is of a man, his wife and the bandit that attacks them. We see the story from 4 (if not 5) different perspectives and none of the narratives quite match up. The veiwer is, rather cleverly, put in the place of the investigating police officer with witnesses reporting and prostrating themselves before you. It looks at ideas of truth, stories and obviously the morality of what is happening on screen. I think it's pretty good although the sound, due to age, is very scratchy. I shouldn't need to mention it's in proper ol'fashioned black and white.

19. Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa, 1950)

In this episode Mr. Drummond, Arnold, and Willis foil a burglary but each recalls the event happening differently.

Mr. Drummond in his remembrance of the crime, uses his street smarts(I am sure learned on the sunny beaches of Lethbridge, Alberta) to foil the robbery. I think he even pulls the old "hey look over there" trick to get the gun from the robber. In the end the robber is knocked out with a karate chop and all is well.

But Willis remembers differently. He recalls Mr. Drummond(dad) trying but failing to stop the burglar, and Arnold being to scared to approach the robber. But Willis being both black and a future champion of Celebrity Boxing demonstrates no fear and wastes the robber.

Arnold however remembers differently. I prefer to think of it as being sour grapes, I mean why would Willis lie? Arnold is just jealous that he has some kidney disease. Anyway Arnold's version involves him busting out some badass karate or kung-fu or something to defeat the robber. This is the highlight of the episode which is severely lacking in Dana Plato. It's comedy at its finest. Arnold and his midgetry taking down a full grown robber. It's really magic.

Anyway the whole point of the episode is that the truth has many different faces, and everyone remembers differently. I think I was supposed to learn something. But without Nancy Reagan to guide me I was at a loss. Oh well. I guess the moral is don't get robbed, or look both ways or something.

On filmaffinity.com I gave this film an 8/10(a strong 8 mind you). I actually didn't like the film once it finished, but as I thought about it more, I realized it was awesome. Kurosawa is ballin'.

Let me take a detour to set this up.

Back in the early days of video rental stores, we rented by the day. Rent RASHOMON for one day and you paid "X" dollars. Keep it a second day and you paid "2X" dollars. Pretty simple. So, cheap bastard that I am, I would rent a film and return it the next day. A pain in the butt, but there wasn't much of a choice.

After a few years, video stores realized that they could make more money if they charged slightly more money but let you keep the rental for a few days without paying additional fees. People like me would rent more than one movie at a time, so we could watch a few over a number of days without constant trips back and forth to the rental store. They also continued to make loads of money on people who kept them past the few days and called that fee a "late fee."

Gradually, the rental period got longer until my local 20/20 (which has a fantastic selection of Criterion and foreign films) allows me to take out films for a week (except for new rentals) and even gives a discount for people, like myself, who rent three movies at a time. It's a great rental model. Netflix, of course, takes this another step forward -- you can have a movie for an unlimited period of time without late fees, but you can't have more than a specified number at a time and you have to pay a monthly fee no matter how few movies you rent during that month. Brilliant.

Enter Apple, with their online downloaded movie rentals. Their policy (which, I suspect without a shred of evidence, is driven by the film distribution companies with whom they've made deals) is that you have 30 days to start viewing anything that you rent. However, once you start viewing, you have 24 hours to finish watching the film (time spent on PAUSE doesn't count in this).

And here we come to the great divide.

For me, I don't start watching a movie unless I know I can finish it. If a movie is three hours long, I better have three hours to watch it or it ain't gonna happen. So, Apple's policy makes perfect sense for my viewing habits. I'm a storyteller so I can't see how I can have the actual storytelling experience if I'm taking a big, long, intermission somewhere in the midst of the film -- especially because it's an intermission that the filmmakers didn't plan. The same holds true in a slightly different way for television. If there are commercials in the program, I show no reticence in picking up and meandering over to the refrigerator or the bathroom or the phone for a brief interlude. After all, even though I usually whizz through the commercials at Tivo warp speed, the original creators of the show knew that there were going to be a ton of ads in the exact place that I'm stopping.

But viewing something that wasn't meant to have breaks in it -- like an HBO or Public TV show or a feature... that's a different story. I won't stop it.

I feel that I am definitely in the minority now. My daughter, and many many other people, watch a movie over several days. I spoke to her last month and she had just finished watching the Krystof Kieslowski trilogy -- BLUE, WHITE and RED (three truly awesome films) and was in the middle of watching THE DOUBLE LIFE OF VERONIQUE. She had watched the first part the night before, was going to watch some more that night, and probably finish it the following night.

I don't get it, but it's clear that more and more people are viewing media that way.

For them, I'd think, Apple's policy is a non-starter. If you put the film away until the next night, and when you return to it then it is completely gone from your iTunes or Apple TV, you simply can't watch media the way you want to watch it.

In a funny way, Apple is trying to create a new media opportunity, using an old viewing model. They are trying to distribute film in a new way (well, relatively new anyway) using the old movie theatre model. That is, you're going to sit in one place and watch this film pretty much from start to finish.

Of course, that's why I suspect that this is really the result of the studios license arrangements, rather than Apple's idea. They fear losing control over their intellectual property and so, in a typically short sighted move, retreat to the old model of movie viewing, thinking it will prevent piracy somehow.

Ironically, Fox (which is one of the studios that is permitting iTunes rentals) is also the studio that is, in selected cases, putting a iPod version of their films onto a second disc in their store DVDs. This enables the user, after authorization through the iTunes store (hmmmmmmmmmmm, interesting) to upload that version of the film to their iPod, computer's iTunes, or (I'm assuming) Apple TV. I understand that, once you've bought the DVD you've bought it, which is miles away from renting it. But the slightly innovative thought process behind putting this H.264 version in the DVD package is a different manner of thinking from the one-day rental mindset.

I expect that Apple will slowly change this rental policy. In the meantime, I find it interesting to see what this reveals about our film viewing habits.

How do YOU watch your media? All at once, or in bite-sized chunks?

Listas, listas de cosas sin fin. No hay tiempo, no alcanza, no nos damos. Hay que darse el tiempo o buscarlo. El tiempo no te va a encontrar a ti, eres tu el que tiene que hallarlo y darle indicaciones. Ahora que menos tiempo tengo para ver cine, es cuando más ganas de verlo tengo y he decidido que no puedo dejar de ver en especial estas películas:

• 3:10 to Yuma

• Unforgiven

• There Will Be Blood

• Cidade de Deus

• No Country for Old Men

• Rashômon

• Donnie Darko

• Juno

• American Gangster

• Into the Wild

Algunas son estrenos recientes, otras son casi clásicos o que siempre quice ver y nunca lo hice por a, b, ó c. (Mientras escribo pienso en tres más pero ya le puse el título al post y no lo quiero cambiar ya que me gusta hacer listas de a 10).

Things that filmmakers think will speed up their films, but in fact often slow them down:

1) Lots of narrative strands. Yes, you can move back and forth between them, ensuring a rapid turnover of scenes and a variety of settings and characters. But the effect may be that each story tends to develop VERY SLOWLY, since it only has a short episode of screen time in which to progress. This will become obvious over time. See: HEROES. Unless it becomes obvious AT ONCE. See: ST TRINIANS.

2) Snazzy wipes and other fancy transitions. I used to say that wipes are a sure sign of a film in trouble. Come to think of it, I still do. They are. Admittedly, THE SEVEN SAMURAI and RASHOMON are masterpieces, and Kurosawa in those days used wipes quite a lot. And they don't hurt those films by any means. But I bet everybody heaved a sigh of relief when he grew out of them.

Instead of wipes, I recommend the use of Intertitles, reading "The makers regret that they were unable to achieve a lively and interesting effect when they shot the film, so here is a diversionary tactic we hope will satisfy."

Even when the film is "nae bad", as we say here, wipes generally betray a loss of confidence in the cutting room. Tony Richardson was convinced TOM JONES was a stinker, so he panicked and speckled the film with slightly annoying optical wipes, freeze-frames and flip-flops. To the dessicated shade of Mr. Richardson I wag a finger and say what I say to students when they dangle a script and ask, 'How do I make it interesting?' 'Let's assume,' I respond, 'that it's ALREADY interesting (because if not, you are stuffed), and instead ask, "How do I bring out its interesting qualities?"' Again, Richardson doesn't ruin TOM JONES, but the techniques he brought to the otiginal filming were much more effective than the optical house malarkey inflicted after the fact.

3) Snappy montages. The Hollywood hack's chance to show off what songs he can afford. But montages slacken dramatic tension, so though you can whiz through plot developments or show our happy and affluent couple getting to know each other without having to bother with any tiresome WRITING, you allow the audience to drift off into their own little reveries (or to the concession stand) and it will Take Time to get them back.

(A Very Honourable Exception: the turning pages of the scrapbook in THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP, which achieve devastating emotional impact with sublime economy of means.)

This isn't intended as a list of Thou Shalt Nots. All of the above devices are legitimate. It's just that they have often been often used to produce an effect of speed and zip which is by no means intrinsic to their nature.

This year, on the 10th anniversary of the death of Akira Kurosawa, a giant of world cinema, International House of Japan will hold a discussion aimed at understanding some of the reasons for the gap between Kurosawa's dual legacy at home and abroad.

Which leads us to this week's film, Rashomon. The film that brought Akira Kurosawa and Japanese cinema to the forefront of the world stage. Also like the other films so far in this film history class, was a film that I had read about and always wanted to see. Everyone knows the premise of Rashomon where a priest, a woodcutter and a bystander are taking shelter in the ruined city gate of the city of Rashomon during a rainstorm where they recall a trial where a bandit attacked and raped the wife of an samurai, who is then murdered by the bandit. Each person's version of the story, as told in flashbacks via testimony during the trial differs from the other. The group of men in the framing device sequence are confused about which story is the truth, until that is the woodcutter finally admits that he had witnessed the whole murder in secret.

I have to admit that the bandit, as played by Toshiro Mifune, has to be one of the most charismatic actors to ever have graced a movie screen even though he had some moments where he looked sorta like the modern day comedic actor Jason Lee. (I'm just calling it how I see it, folks!)

I was totally freaked out by the actress who played the medium who summoned the spirit of the dead samurai she really looked like she was possessed and the echoy voice over of the actor who played the samurai more than helped to give serious weight to this eerie effect.

I was severely disappointed, however, with the last scene of the film with the abandoned baby and the three men from the framing device. It just seemed so forced and contrived to me.

next week on the syllabus: Hollywood in the 1950's and Singing In The Rain.

jareddriskill

From Criterion's website:

"Brimming with action while incisively examining the nature of truth, Rashomon is perhaps the finest film ever to investigate the philosophy of justice. Through an ingenious use of camera and flashbacks, Kurosawa reveals the complexities of human nature as four people recount different versions of the story of a man’s murder and the rape of his wife. Toshiro Mifune gives another commanding performance in the eloquent masterwork that revolutionized film language and introduced Japanese cinema to the world."  Read Stephen Prince's essay here.

Special Features

• - New high-definition transfer, with restored image and sound
• - Commentary by Japanese film historian Donald Richie
• - Video introduction by Robert Altman
• - Excerpts from The World of Kazuo Miyagawa, a documentary film about Rashomon’s cinematographer
• - Reprints of the Rashomon source stories, Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s “In a Grove” and “Rashomon”
• - Akira Kurosawa on Rashomon: a reprinted excerpt from his book Something Like an Autobiography
• - Optional English-dubbed soundtrack
• - Theatrical trailer
• - New and improved English subtitle translation
• - Optimal image quality: RSDL dual-layer edition

Bruce Naumann

Georges Méliès's "The Black Imp" Le DIABLE NOIR

Kamera wie klassischer Theater Zuschauer, Filmschnitt wird als noch unbekannter Effekt eingesetzt.

Nam June Paik "TV Buddha" > Close Circuit Installation.

Gebrüder Lumiere Film über ankommenden Zug.