Sin City and Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Neglected Value of Artifice in Cinema

There is an interesting debate brewing in my mind after a visit to two little corners of the blogosphere. Should a movie's substantive value be deemed nonexistent simply because style takes precedence in that particular film? Or does the artifice sometimes disguise the substance beneath the style, and perhaps entertainment value also? Admittedly, this is not a new debate. Formalists and realists have been arguing this for a while in some form or another. The germ of this began at Jeremy Richey's Moon in the Gutter where people are arguing about the value of the film Sin City (2005) under a post he entitled Images From The Greatest Films of the Decade: Sin City (A Film Directed by Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller) . After I complimented Jeremy on his selection of Sin City as one of the films he honored with his beautiful frame captures, Samuel Wilson commented:

I respectfully disagree. The exact faithfulness of Rodriguez' [sic] adaptation is the movie's great flaw. Comic book dialogue works according to a different narrative logic from movie dialogue. Transcribing Miller's dialogue directly on film ended up sounding stilted to me. I admit also that I liked the Sin City comics initially, but grew tired of Miller's obsessions by the end of the third series -- which does leave possibly the best story, "A Dame to Kill For," to be adapted in a second movie. I can admire the movie visually (those are nice captures) and I suppose it can be appreciated as a formal experiment...

This elicited a comment from J.D.:

Well, the stilted sounding dialogue seemed, to me at least, to be kinda the point, drawing attention to the artificiality of the whole thing - this is, after all, a hyper-stylized world right out of a Mickey Spillane novel. I think that some actors did a better job with the dialogue than others. Clive Owen and Mickey Rourke, for example, fared very well, while Michael Madsen, not so much, but I think that it is more to do with the strengths and limitations of various actors in the cast.

Put me squarely in J.D.'s camp, seeing as how I agree that Sin City is an ambitious attempt to pay simultaneous homage to both the film noir genre and the graphic novel medium. Some of the noir elements are diluted by the time the story reaches the screen, in part because this is a filmed adaptation of a medium that was already adapting a film genre. Post-modernism at its best, no? And J.D. makes a good point. However I feel about the film, he is correct in saying that some actors, Jessica Alba and Michael Madsen in particular, did not serve the material well under the constraints of the screenplay. But does the artifice of the film undermine its value? Film is an inherently artificial medium, and isn't anything put before the lens already influenced unnaturally by the very presence of the camera? So you can see why the argument that a film lacks substance or reality, holds little water with me.



It was with that frame of mind that I must have carried some of this debate over to another site I frequent, Ed Howard's Only the Cinema, where we discussed a better example. When Ed posted his 50 Best films of the 1980s, I was taken aback by the absence of a few films, but when I brought some of them up, amongst them, Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and Blade Runner (1982), Ed responded:

Tony, some of those I do like but don't consider list material (like Raiders, which is fun but hardly any great masterpiece)... and others I respect but don't have much personal love for them, like Blade Runner... an effects showcase...

Blade Runner has always been and continues to be a flawed film, no doubt. But it did move the cinematic medium forward visually, and has proven to be highly influential. Besides that, it clearly falls into the larger context of film history as a new iteration of film noir (see an earlier post on Blade Runner) much like Sin City does. So it is working on more levels than an ordinary film. And, in my mind, Raiders is a tougher case to argue. As I said in response to Ed at his site:

Sure, it is a Hollywood blockbuster, but it is hardly a trifle in film history. It is a significant homage to an often neglected genre, the Saturday morning serial. It is near flawless in its execution as an action-adventure film. As a suspense thriller, though it may be forgotten after repeated viewings, it rivals the work of Hitchcock (especially in the how-did-he-film-that department). And it doesn't fall prey to the trite dialogue, or wooden characterizations routinely found even in the original Star Wars trilogy.

Ed's response:

Tony, Raiders is undoubtedly a great action-adventure flick. To me, though, the Hitchcock comparison is more revelatory for the differences than the similarities. Hitch was a sublime craftsman with an unrivaled technical mastery, but this formal acumen was rarely used only in service to the suspense or the action. There is invariably something deeper, something of substance, going on in Hitch's best films, whether it's the depth of the characterization, the thematic and psychological subtexts, or, as in Psycho and North By Northwest, a certain playfulness with the formal conventions of genres. As good as Hitchcock was at entertaining, I think he was always conscious of making his films interesting beneath the surface as well. Raiders is all surface. I enjoy it, and I'm certainly not judging it negatively for its popularity, but there's just nothing there beyond a fun adventure. To the extent that the Indiana Jones films have any substance at all, it's in the form of a regressive Orientalism that shows through much more clearly in Temple of Doom but is present in the first film as well.

Let's remember that before Cahiers du Cinema first crowned Hitchcock as an auteur he was often dismissed as a genre director in much the same way that Spielberg has been. Thematically, Spielberg has matured in a way that make his particular concerns much more evident in his recent films, concerns such as his fascination with World War II and Nazi Germany. This theme is treated in a much more adolescent way in his earlier films, 1941 (1979) and Raiders in particular, which were fed by his childhood "education" through movies. His exploration of the effect of the war, and more specifically the Nazis, on his father's generation matures during the course of his career so that by the time he directs Schindler's List (1993) and Saving Private Ryan (1998), he cannot trivialize Nazi Germany nor America's involvement in the war as he does in his earlier films. Seeing as he could not simply get from there to here without an evolution in his art, there is then a value to Raiders of the Lost Ark that deepens once its place in the broader context of Spielberg's filmography is examined, if only to serve as a contrast to his later films. The fact that the film seems to be "all surface", as Ed puts it, is not necessarily so because of the foundation it initially establishes in his progressively conscious thoughts on WWII. So I'd like to hear from my readers on this. Are entertaining films to be dismissed as lacking any substantive value, or might a viewer glean something deeper from them the same way one can in "pop art"? Tell me about some of the movies that you were surprised to find went deeper than you once might have thought. Or tell me why such movies should correctly be viewed as simplistic or superficial.

The Big Sleep: The Current State of Things and a Few Words on Glenn Kenny

by Tony Dayoub

So here is the current state of things around here. Got back from Tribeca a week ago when the following proceeded to occur:

• My laptop died. Thought it'd be a simple matter of replacing the hard drive and recovering some data from the old one. Turns out the whole motherboard is fried (or some such shit like that... I'm not the tech-savvy type) and the data is, to quote Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) in Blade Runner, "lost... like tears in rain." Included in that data, pictures of my son's first Christmas. Lesson: Always back everything up.
• My cell phone is dying. Which has made it almost impossible to conduct business while I wait for my new laptop, since my cell was the only way I could answer email. Working on getting that replaced as well.
• My car could go any day now. Scary is hoping your car doesn't die out in Atlanta traffic with an unreliable cell phone to depend on.

The good news is that I've had plenty of time to watch a stack of screeners that was waiting for me when I got back from NYC. So you'll be getting plenty of reviews as soon as I'm back up, including:

• A survey of all the Indiana Jones material available out there as we approach the release of the new chapter: Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
• Todd Haynes' look at Bob Dylan, I'm Not There
• Hilary Swank in the romance, P.S. I Love You
• A look at some new Sinatra material, out on DVD tomorrow
• Several documentaries like Surfwise, At the Death House Door, and When the Moors Ruled in Europe

Until then, let's talk about something else that has been on my mind. Premiere Magazine, a film magazine that started in France (and continues to be published there), was first published in the U.S. in 1987. Some have been critical of the American magazine for trivializing the art of film, i.e. concentrating on celebrities and box office tallies, and even putting out an annual list ranking the most powerful people in Hollywood. I was a subscriber from day one, and I can tell you that at fifteen, it was a considerable influence on my approach to analyzing cinema. Sure, if you were looking for scholarly examination of film in the context of world cinema you were probably better served by reading Film Comment (a publication I still enjoy greatly). But there was still room for Premiere's brand of journalism. Because though some would accuse it of trivializing the medium, I found it was honest in covering American film in the grander scheme of things, covering everything from independents to blockbusters, films to home videos, spotlighting actors both famous and obscure, and never letting you forget that though you may love film for its art, it was ultimately the business forces that decided if it would get made or not. Last year, Premiere, in the U.S., succumbed to the erosion of advertisement income now plaguing much of print media in the face of the rising popularity of the internet as news outlet. Many of the staff lost their jobs as it transitioned to a second life on the net, except one.

Glenn Kenny, the mag's resident film critic, continued in that capacity as the magazine became one of many entertainment sites that abound online. His singularly distinctive voice and style was one of the few reasons to continue to visit the site, as he also supplemented his reviews with a fantastic blog, "In the Company of Glenn". Not only does this man have an opinion (which I frequently disagreed with), but he is a master of the English language. You'd be surprised how few of those exist online. Here's an example of his way with words from his post on 4/21/08 entitled Monday Evening Palate Cleanser:

It vexes me. I am terribly vexed.

Why, on this mild Monday evening, do the words of Joaquin Phoenix's Commodus echo through my head?

That's a rhetorical question. I know exactly why. That answer's multi-faceted. Part of my vexation stems from encountering, in this here blogosphere, a putative paean to a particularly distinguished work of cinema, which praises the particular work at the expense of practically every other movie the director of that work ever did, trotting out heavyweight quotes the better to swat at...David Denby, who recently had the temerity to cite said director's "refinement." What such score-settling has to do with the work at hand is, naturally, beyond me. But the score-settler seems to believe he's achieved the ambition of that character in Gass' "In The Heart of The Heart of The Country," which I guess is nice for him, not so nice for those turning to him for some wit or perception. And in thinking about all this, I further think, "Dude, you really want to get into it like this?" "It" being the week, after a weekend of examining some of the other discontents readily available in the film-appraisal corner of our world. And I answer, "No, I do not."

I bring up Mr. Kenny because Premiere just terminated his position. And as NPR reported on a story on the very day Kenny announced his departure, he is but the latest casualty in a long string of critics who've accepted buyouts or have been terminated from magazines and newspapers nationwide. So a site struggling to stand out from all the others just got rid of the one person who had the most potential to help them in doing so. And another veteran film critic loses his job because of ever increasing competition from bloggers who write more often, more incoherently, and often for free.

Though I am thankful for the immediacy, and facility, that the online world affords me in expressing my views on this subject I adore, cinema, I will always defer to journalists with formal training and experience when it comes to writing. Here's hoping that Mr. Kenny will land on his feet quickly, and get on with the business of provoking us to think on cinema from his perspective, no matter how often I may disagree with it.

An archive of Glenn Kenny's blog for Premiere, "In the Company of Glenn", is up, for the moment, under my Recommended Blogs to the left. His new writings may be found under a blog he set up, all by himself, called "Some Came Running", also under my Recommended Blogs.

DVD Review: Blade Runner: The Final Cut - Neo-Noir Lost in Translation?

by Tony Dayoub



Blade Runner: The Five Disc Ultimate Edition was released on DVD in December 2007. Produced by Charles de Laurizika (producer of Twin Peaks - The Definitive Gold Box Edition), it is the culmination of 7 years of hard work to restore this film to Ridley Scott's definitive version.