If Only These Famous Movie Lines Had Turned Out Thusly …

Setter’s ‘Spectives: ‘Psycho’ Viewers, Qu’est-ce Que C’est?

Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Watching Alfred Hitchcock’s inimitable scare-fest Psycho last night on TV thrilled me more than it ever has in the past.

Why? Well, for one thing, I didn’t like it.

Yes, that’s thrilling. Really. Because last night, the reason became apparent.

It’s a negative movie. It’s oddly structured. The dialogue is bizarre. And Hitch spends a heckuva lot of time showing you these seemingly “mundane” details, like Janet Leigh packing and unpacking her suitcase and Anthony Perkins cleaning up the bathroom after he has dispatched her.

All of this is deliberate. I’m not saying Hitchcock wasn’t in command. But it’s almost as if the great director was trying to call attention to ordinary activities that aren’t normally seen in the movies.

That helps develop character…and I think that’s why the film’s so effective. Perkins’ obsessive mopping and post-murder preparations reveal how deeply disturbed he is, while Leigh’s behavior suggests an interior schism over the money she’s stolen. It’s all brilliantly done, and it’s an incredibly watchable movie, despite all of the minutiae.

Yet I still don’t like it. It seems more experimental to me than many of the master’s other pictures, a grim, stark-looking study rather than a finished product. Again: I don’t think anything is loose, here; Hitch was in control through and through. But for me, it’s hard to watch. I’d rather sit down to a viewing of The 39 Steps, you know?

Something where you don’t feel like you have to take a shower afterward.

Skip’s Quips: At Least They Didn’t Make a Movie About ‘Mr. Do!’

Blog Sketch 082813Have we come to the end of the line for movies based on video games?

That’s certainly my hope. I don’t think I could sit through another installment of Mortal Kombat.

Guess I should be glad they didn’t make a flick about Frogger. Or should I bite my tongue?

I can see the tagline now: “The existential adventures of a frog who only wants to get to the other side.”

I wonder, though, if the moviegoing public has seen enough of this type of thing. After all, video games these days are more cinematic than ever, with plotlines and entire scenes developed through computer-generated animation. No one really needs a film based on a game that’s like a film anyway.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not a video-game teetotaler. I actually grew up with them during their nascent days. Donkey Kong, Zaxxon. I even had a ColecoVision.

But I enjoyed them for their interactivity. That was a novel thing–to compete against your computer. Nowadays, video games are as much about watching the characters as much as playing them.

And I have to say, I find that interesting. Because the more, it seems, we gravitate toward a new technology and new experiences, the more we want the old incorporated into it.

Looking for movies in video games is perfectly natural. It’s like wanting to know more about Mozart and how he got his inspiration. The interest in the games spawns an interest in the characters.

Yet motion pictures based on these characters seem, for the most part, unsuccessful. There’s only so much we can get from a shoot-’em-up. Within the context of the games themselves, however, the cinematic qualities work. So perhaps that’s where they belong.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check my officers’ progress in Star Trek Online. Exit, pursued by a joystick.

Setter’s ‘Spective: The Slo-Mo and the Furious

Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I blame you, Akira Kurosawa.

Remember: You started it. Or rather, you helped popularize the use of slow-motion photography in fight scenes–specifically via two different shots of villains dying in The Seven Samurai.

I adore your films, Akira. But I’m not happy with the seeds you’ve sown.

Ok, so you’re not responsible for all that ludicrous pseudo-Spartan posturing in 300. Or the (prolific) guts and glory in The Wild Bunch. But without those scenes in Samurai, we wouldn’t be so deluged with half-speed onscreen violence.

Granted, you used slow motion judiciously–and I think that’s what separates you from the rest. Peckinpah’s technique can hardly be called subtle, but his Bunch certainly packs a punch. Not so much all that silliness in 300, where the idea seemed to be showing how cool it is to kill ancient Persians with as much CGI blood as possible.

And I think that’s where all this slo-mo falls rather quickly on its face.

We’ve diluted its purpose, the whole point of its effectiveness. See it once in a while, and it’s as startling as a flower in snow. Yet watch it over and over again, and it loses its potential impact. Today, it seems to be de rigueur in “action” scenes, as if directors have forgotten how to film normally. So it has become showy instead of telling, obvious instead of shocking.

Frankly, I’d rather see My Dinner with Andre. That’s got more action than any Matrix pose-a-rama.

So Kurosawa, I’m going to take time out from praising you to gripe a bit, though with a heavy heart. Because I know as much as I loathe what slo-mo has become, without it we wouldn’t be what we are today.

Old man Sykes says in Peckinpah’s Bunch: “It ain’t like it used to be, but it’ll do.”

I don’t think it should.