Shilpi Kumar
Summer Love Really Does Fade Fast
An unconventional and compelling story about love, (500) Days of Summer blends the charming lives of two young adults caught in the inevitable tribulations of love. Tom Hansen, played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, portrays a protagonist plagued by his idealistic view of romance and perpetual underdog status. The object of his affections, the quirky Summer Finn, played by actress Zooey Deschanel, yearns for a spontaneous life, clean of any suffocating commitments. Although this construct sounds vaguely similar to many of the all-too-cliché “rom-coms,” (500) Days of Summer breaks the mold with an inventive take on a recurrent problem – the inherently unreciprocated nature of many potential relationships. While the film seduces viewers with a realistic spin on love, it fails to effectively ignite a convincing rebuttal to the norm it attempts to challenge.
Distancing itself from the typical romantic comedy, the film utilizes the thematic schemes of Peter Chelsom’s Serendipity, with a free editing style similar to that of Richard Linklater’s Waking Life. One of the most gripping aspects of (500) Days of Summer is its ability to captivate the audience with the façade of Tom and Summer’s true love. Directed by Marc Webb, (500) Days of Summer delights with a combination of fantastical elements, light humor, and pop-culture references interwoven in a web of enchanting romance. The omniscient narration, paired with numerous dream-sequences and editorial additions, enhance the film’s entertainment value.
As the story rebounds between the good and bad days, the dynamics of the style parallels the sentiments. Initially, Webb uses these tools to overtly project optimistic overtones upon the audience. The uplifting soundtrack complements the overall mood of the narrative, while the comic interjections from supporting characters add to the deliberately light-hearted flow. With the second half of the story, Webb redefines the audience’s perception with similar strategies. A cynical ambiance results from the culmination of altered set designs, lighting, and music. These shifts in misé-en-scene rework the visage of the film and evoke a powerful emotional response from the audience. Similar to the experience with many other romantic comedies, the bond formed between the audience and the main characters becomes a force of its own pretenses.
Far from predictable, (500) Days of Summer seems to possess all the intentions of a breakout indie film. The haphazard and unconventional storyline creates an awkward misunderstanding with the audience. The layout of the film, as prefaced by the title, explores the ups-and-downs of Tom and Summer’s relations through snapshots of the days they spent together. As viewers attempt to grasp the characters from the scattered visions offered, they are met with deceptive evidence that seems almost too calculated. The presentation of their relationship effectively draws the attentive crowd into a spell of predetermined perceptions. The semi-anticipated break in their love story leaves an obviously strange tension. The real-life portrayal almost starts to seem unbelievable due to the convincing foundation laid beforehand. The moviemakers excel in wafting the moviegoers in the love potions and depressants of emotional attachments. The audience, unbeknownst to their intoxication, either drowns in empathy and hope or wallows with skeptical disappointment of the relationship at hand.
It seems as if (500) Days of Summer brought on the task of attending to two agendas, that of a pleasant chick flick, as well as that of an off-beat indie. And although it succeeds on integrating parts of both, the missing pieces from each undertaking subtract from its overall triumph. Nonetheless, for those who want a scoop of alluring romance added on top of some indie creativity, (500) Days of Summer is the ultimate charmer.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Classic Hollywood Spectators
Through the years, Classical Hollywood Cinema has made a name for themselves by establishing a standard for the type of movie people want to see. David Bordwell and his article “Classical Hollywood Cinema: Narrational Principles and Procedures” have been the topic of our class blog entries and discussion for the past week. I feel that we’ve mostly analyzed Bordwell’s list of the elements that characterize classic Hollywood films, specifically the dual plot lines. I wanted to look at another aspect that Bordwell brought to my attention, the idea of classical spectatorship, specifically in Nora Ephron’s 1993 American romantic comedy, Sleepless in Seattle.
I think we talk about spectatorship a lot more than we realize. The effect of film on an audience is essentially what drives the whole industry. When I think about spectatorship, I consider the sappy emotional women of the world, and what exactly drives us to laugh hysterically and cry uncontrollably through every movie we see. Really, it’s a bizarre concept: a moving picture, completely void of reality, causes us to react like we’re living the lives of the characters we’ve met. This doesn’t just happen by chance. Every amateur film director longs to pull at the heartstrings and jerk some tears out of their viewers. But what exactly separates those in the DVD collection from those other forgettable flicks?
According to Bordwell, the logic of classical spectatorship relies on “a series of particular schemata, hypotheses, and inferences” (28). He finds that cinema depends on spectator’s previous knowledge and expectations to determine their film experience. As they are exposed to the narrative and effect of the film, the reaction they have is mostly controlled by the hypothesis formed and either confirmed or denied. We feel that we learn the character well enough to predict what they are going to do, or that we have followed the director’s style enough to anticipate what’s coming. In fact, we’re usually pretty accurate, which makes us happy. Bordwell believes that spectatorship thrives from the validated hypotheses, especially in classical Hollywood cinema.
When looking at Sleepless in Seattle with all this in mind, the spectator’s emotional saga makes so much sense. As we are introduced to Sam and Annie, we predict that they will get together because of our premise to the notion that they are perfectly compatible and the idea that love can heal all wounds. In reality, we are convinced of these due to our societal expectations of romance, as well that the film techniques Ephron uses to match Sam and Annie as an ideal couple in our heads. I think that the culmination of the characters’ hardships and our expectation of a classical romance lead us to the seemingly inevitable catharsis of tears. When the timing and coincidences finally line up and Sam and Annie meet on the top of the Empire State Building, the spectators feel like they’ve won. Through the magic of cinema, we manage to get sucked to the passions of those we’ve never met. I may just be a hopeless romantic, but I definitely think Bordwell’s onto something.
I think we talk about spectatorship a lot more than we realize. The effect of film on an audience is essentially what drives the whole industry. When I think about spectatorship, I consider the sappy emotional women of the world, and what exactly drives us to laugh hysterically and cry uncontrollably through every movie we see. Really, it’s a bizarre concept: a moving picture, completely void of reality, causes us to react like we’re living the lives of the characters we’ve met. This doesn’t just happen by chance. Every amateur film director longs to pull at the heartstrings and jerk some tears out of their viewers. But what exactly separates those in the DVD collection from those other forgettable flicks?
According to Bordwell, the logic of classical spectatorship relies on “a series of particular schemata, hypotheses, and inferences” (28). He finds that cinema depends on spectator’s previous knowledge and expectations to determine their film experience. As they are exposed to the narrative and effect of the film, the reaction they have is mostly controlled by the hypothesis formed and either confirmed or denied. We feel that we learn the character well enough to predict what they are going to do, or that we have followed the director’s style enough to anticipate what’s coming. In fact, we’re usually pretty accurate, which makes us happy. Bordwell believes that spectatorship thrives from the validated hypotheses, especially in classical Hollywood cinema.
When looking at Sleepless in Seattle with all this in mind, the spectator’s emotional saga makes so much sense. As we are introduced to Sam and Annie, we predict that they will get together because of our premise to the notion that they are perfectly compatible and the idea that love can heal all wounds. In reality, we are convinced of these due to our societal expectations of romance, as well that the film techniques Ephron uses to match Sam and Annie as an ideal couple in our heads. I think that the culmination of the characters’ hardships and our expectation of a classical romance lead us to the seemingly inevitable catharsis of tears. When the timing and coincidences finally line up and Sam and Annie meet on the top of the Empire State Building, the spectators feel like they’ve won. Through the magic of cinema, we manage to get sucked to the passions of those we’ve never met. I may just be a hopeless romantic, but I definitely think Bordwell’s onto something.
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