Movie Magic: When Special Effects And Bad Ideas Collide
“If you want to keep on being relevant as a director, I think you have to embrace the times. And with the times come technologies and formats” — Alfonso Cuaron
Movies have long relied on actors to tell us their stories. Performance artists like Douglas Fairbanks and the great Charlie Chaplin embodied a spirit that could project an idea through body language alone. A film’s greatest effects were in fact its performers.
Today, computer generated imagery has carved an increased presence on screen, effectively challenging its stars for top-billing. In my lifetime, effects driven films have ran the critical gamut from cringe inducing (remember Water World? No? Me neither) to more recently, Oscar winning triumphs.
That second group of Academy fodder can be visual marvels with easily overlooked shortcomings. A select few even better served with closed captioned commentary (“while we acknowledge this shot doesn’t make any actual sense, it still looks really cool”). That’s not to say these films are bad. They are the result of inspired creativity and ambition. They are classics in some respect, worthy of that special place in our collective memories. But if we’re being honest about it, they are also deeply flawed.
Take last year’s best reviewed film, Gravity—widely considered to be a technical masterpiece. Childhood aspirations of an astronaut are manifested on screen in ways never imagined. Intended solely for viewing in large format theaters, it’s impossible to interpret Gravity at home with the same level of indulgence. Grandma was sorely disappointed watching this on HBO.
Only a handful of movies deserve the right to charge for a 3D ticket. Gravity is one of them.
While some practical tools were used to suspend Clooney and Bullock in space, the majority of scenes are entirely animated. This includes the widely discussed tracking shot to open the movie. Gravity uses this ambivalence towards animation to create stronger continuity between scenes. What appears to be a live action sequence peppered with effects actually works no differently than a scene from Wall-E.
It’s when you pull at the seams that the movie falls apart. The script feels forced and unintentionally simple. Its metaphorical imagery comes across heavy handed. A film so dedicated to the vastness of space shouldn’t be filled with such distractions. Why would an experienced astronaut carry on conversations with another astronaut losing oxygen? Why do the laws of physics apply in one scene and are thrown out the next? I don’t care how good-looking he is, never go to space with George Clooney if you value your life.
When considering the plot in a vacuum you’re left wondering about the point of it all. Oh yeah, the point is expertly crafted cinematography and sound design that commands your attention. Check.
Gravity is a masterful rendering of man’s fascination with space exploration.
The film transports you to another plane of existence not possible in the real world (actual astronauts excluded). A thesis on the power of style over substance, Gravity, like its physical counterpart, will be studied for years to come.
“I can’t think of anything that I see on a screen these days without thinking how much better it’d look in 3-D! If I see a movie I really like…Like, I’m watching “King Kong” I think, “Man! That’d be great in 3-D!” Everything’s better in 3-D! Everything! A scene in the snow with two people talking…in 3-D…It’s amazing! You’re in the snow! You feel the snow.” — James Cameron
The equipment required to film in space with the clarity that occurs in Gravity doesn’t exist in any practical form. Fortunately we have James Cameron, a director whose meticulous work ethic and attention to detail resulted in the awe inspiring universe of Avatar.
Filmed with stereoscopic 3D cameras, Avatar required less work in post-conversion, allowing Cameron to create an immersive experience from the beginning. During production, rumors swirled about his new project. Will it be a fully animated feature? How will the 3D be used? Is this the new Smurfs movie?
Eventually, Cameron made clear that special effects would be his focus, always quick to promote effects over plot during interviews. And with good reason.
The plot sucks. Just try reading it out loud. An homage to the tale of Pocahontas (read: ripoff), Avatar sees a human named Jake Sully join an alien species devoid of modern technology. Using computer controlled “avatars” he disguises himself to better assimilate with one of the alien tribes. When that tribe is threatened by the very people he comes from, Sully ends up their savior.
See?
It’s a paint by numbers story so derivative (and more effectively done elsewhere, like Last of the Mohicans) that it can practically be considered offensive. Cameron also leveraged the film with a thinly veiled political commentary on both the Bush administration and the environment. Remember how the movie’s military campaign to wipe out the alien tribe was referenced to as a “shock and awe” initiative? A very thin veil. The plot is carried out competently, but it’s still a preachy and uninspired effort.
Despite it’s narrative issues, Avatar manages to rise above it all. This is by Cameron’s design.
Like Gravity, it excels at interweaving entirely animated sequences with live action shots. What separates the movie is its unparalleled establishment of a fictional universe. Not since the original Star Wars have we seen an alien world, no any world, so fully realized. The idea of a biologically interconnected system may be the stuff of hippie’s dreams, but when placed in a world so organic and colorful — it just works. In 3D, the colors admit an extra layer of pop that lights up on screen with each new setting.
The motion capture method used for the movie’s avatars was almost as pivotal as anything the film did in the box office. Placing actors in suits designed to record movement for animation had never been executed to this extant in a feature film. Here it was used to outstanding effect. Next to deep sea exploring (and being an a-hole), Cameron’s greatest talent is finding ways to push the technological envelop.
“The most honest form of filmmaking is to make a film for yourself. The worst type is dictated by demographics or what is hip or what kids are into. Kong isn’t driven by that. No way would a studio think this is the year that people want to see a big gorilla movie. I’ve come to realize that, as much as anything, I am making this for the 9-year-old Peter.” — Peter Jackson
From Gollum to Ceaser (of the Planet of the Apes re-boot), Andy Serkis has pushed motion capture acting technique like none other. His rendition of King Kong in the 2005 update is equally mesmerizing. Indistinguishable from live action, King Kong was created by special effects powerhouse, WETA, and brought to life by Serkis. WETA, the same effects team responsible for The Lord of the Rings franchise and really really sorry about The Hobbit. Still, it’s Andy Serkis’ emotional delivery as the titular ape which serves as the highlight of the film.
One wonders if Peter Jackson simply got ahead of himself following the immense success of the Rings trilogy. Jackson makes no secret of his infatuation with the 1933 Kong, which may have influenced some of the questionable decision making. Every aspect of the film’s live action can be critiqued. There is a distinct lack of chemistry between Naomi Watts and Adrien Brody (yes, they actually were paired together). Colin Hanks is undeniably awkward. And who knows what possessed Jackson to cast one half of Tenacious D to play director Carl Denham. This was Jackson’s pet project and running well over 3 hours — it shows. Still, the movie has its one thing to hang its hat on.
2005's King Kong set the standard for a New York City period piece.
No film captures the city more beautifully. The color palettes and sound design accurately represent New York’s depression era dichotomy. Times Square is a busy, boisterous play den for the wealthy. The less fortunate are photographed with the iconic grey imagery we’ve become familiar with from the era. Jackson practically worships the RKO sensibility of Hollywood’s golden age, paying homage with great effect. In the third act, New York is a homecoming of sorts, played against the clumsy second act on Skull Island (which interestingly has the worst effects in the movie). The Kong/Darrow encounter in Central Park and the film’s climax are framed with a notable reverence towards the metropolis. Had Jackson been able to reign in his inner child, King Kong would have been a remake of legendary proportions.
“When you do what I do and you’re outside the box, you understand it.” “The films I make are couture frocks — extremely labor intensive. You know, they’re like a beacon. You’re not going to be making something that will endure or have an imprint on the culture if it isn’t drawing violent juxtaposing critical responses.” — Baz Lurhmann
King Kong depicted a beautifully rendered version of New York City where Avatar and Gravity re-imagined space from unique perspectives. Director Baz Lurhmann dresses the familiar in abject exaggeration. Before he portrayed (or tackled, or breathed life into, or murdered, your pick) the prohibition era in The Great Gatsby, he gave us a fresh take on the infamous Red Light District of Paris in Moulin Rouge.
The city of lights never looked like this. Dim storefronts and twinkling lamps that line the narrow city streets are replaced by sweeping CGI shots of Paris in saturated colors wrapped around a fake Eiffel Tower. The city is bathed in deep reds and blues as if the infamous red light district were a virus infecting the city. Baz’s vision of 1900 Paris is a clear play on the theatricality of the MontMarte Arrondissment. Apparently normal Paris is for the bourgeoisie.
The film’s calculus isn’t calculus at all: love affair + plot turns + tragic ending = Moulin Rouge. The musical numbers are show stoppers, literally. They fail to connect the dots, and actually draw your attention away from the story (only magnified by Kidman and Mcgregor’s ho-hum singing). The narrative gets lost among all the glitz and glamour.
Movie musicals are tricky, delicate thing, so Luhrmann opts to play up effects over coherent storytelling.
Remember that Pop, Hip Hop and R&B were exploding in 2001 and music videos were high end productions in their own right. Moulin Rouge was just an extension of this aesthetic. You’d be forgiven if your best memory of the film was a music video involving Lil Kim and Christina Aguilera (that had nothing do with the movie mind you, but who cares?).
Despite losing out on a Best Picture Academy Award, Moulin Rouge was recognized for its technical achievements, winning multiple awards in design. Like the videos that inspired it, it married effects and exaggerated lighting to create the surreal look Luhrmann has become famous for. It doesn’t matter that the movie is an incoherent mess. It’s early 2000's pop culture defined.
“If I did “Titanic” today, I’d do it very differently. There wouldn’t be a 750-foot-long set. There would be small set pieces integrated into a large CGI set. I wouldn’t have to wait seven days to get the perfect sunset for the kiss scene. We’d shoot it in front of a green screen, and we’d choose our sunset.” — James Cameron
When conducted by an expert, practical effects intermixed with computer animation can yield the best of outcomes. Baz Lurhmann pushes this limit relentlessly where James Cameron is more of a tactician. In Titanic, Cameron delivers his first attempt at the dramatic, connecting his experience as an acclaimed action director with an original love story created for the film.
Stop. The fact that Cameron felt the need to inject a fabricated love story to enhance the drama of one of history’s most tragic disasters encapsulates the movie’s problems. Character tropes run abundant. The rich aristocrats versus the less fortunate. The damsel and her humble, too good looking to be a poor immigrant, hero. You know if Billy Zane grew a mustache as the villain he’d be twirling it.
Had the story and characters been transplanted to any other setting the movie would be a laughable presentation befitting the Lifetime network. The entire premise of the actual tragedy (and deaths of hundreds of real people) is reduced to the nautical iteration of a Danielle Steele novel. And let’s not forget that massive piece of driftwood which can clearly hold two people.
There is nothing inherently wrong with the performances by Leo and company. But the level of character depth and suspension of belief required for a 3 plus hour story is insulting.
Thankfully, for every floating headboard moment, we’re given a monumental effects sequence that can equally take its place in our memories. The actual ship sinking is as intense and harrowing now as advertised in 1997 despite the debatable historical accuracy. The notable costume design must have been an undertaking considering the massive cast. The opening scenes alone are breathtaking and set the tone for the scope of the film, though you may be surprised to know that similar to Gravity, the ship’s cast off was also mostly computer animated.
Cameron once again shows his ability to showcase visual effects to serve his purpose.
Titanic is a breakthrough achievement of film making on that scale. It’s big, loud and melodramatic but truly directed enough to elevate beyond the movies and into a cultural event. At the time of its release, it grossed more money than any other film in history plus it tied for the most Academy Award nominations and wins. We’ll never see that again.
Movie magic. A pairing of words sadly absent from today’s American Lexicon and not heard nearly enough today. Despite their flaws, films like these keep that magic alive. Between the next Transformers critical lashing and exaggerated exuberance over another Filomena, we should remember that big spectacle movies can help find that elusive middle ground.
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