A few weeks ago, a co-worker dropped this great video essay in my lap called 'Moment of wonder: THE SPIELBERG FACE'
For the handful of people who regularly read this site, it harkens back to a post I wrote back in July of this year.
I'd never heard of 'Spielberg face' before, but it's pretty much on the money of what I'd noted myself. It's a powerful tool indeed, especially in indicating a sense of Wonderment, which is a major pillar of my thesis.
The video describes it as a common cliche and an overused cue for an audience to feel something out of a spectacle, but I would disagree with calling it cliche. Cliche implies it's lacking in efficacy because of it being overused. While it may be overused, it can still ring in a highly potent emotional impact upon its audience when used in the right circumstance.
The video essay also dissects what they call the 'Anti-Spielberg Face', where the tool is used to convey trauma or a challenge of innocence rather than just a reaction to wonderment. It's really no surprise that the reaction can be used that way and I think this is sort of where the essay strays-- possibly for humor.
What they call 'Spielberg Face' is not just a tool for wonderment, but for any major emotional weight swinging with a character. Realization, enlightenment, or a dawning of a moment. It's a bit too narrow minded to call the tool 'Spielberg Face' and sells Spielberg short for his use of the technique and labeling it 'his'. The essay even recognizes its presence before Spielberg was even on the scene, but quickly dismisses it.
The essay may argue that he is a master at conveying that sense of wonderment with the reaction of Spielberg Face, but there's so much more to that tool than cuing the audience to feel something. It conveys weight, scale and eloquently conveys a major emotional change in a character without being explicit.
Now, it is a cue for the audience to say 'hey, there's a big emotional change happening', but it can also have a highly involving aspect to it as well, where the audience is engaged and challenged to figure out what the character is feeling on their own, without explicit statement of that emotion, or without complex exposition as to how the character feels.
The efficacy of 'Spielberg Face' stems from an audience figuring the emotion out for themselves. Even if the emotion is pretty explicit, in figuring it out for themselves, it further invests them with the character, allowing them to feel even more like the events are happening to them.
It's no surprise Wonderment is such a commonly used aspect of the tool. It's enjoyable for an audience to watch and endure that emotion, and it's repeatable. It's the same reason people are so infatuated with Disney. It's nonthreatening entertainment.
But what shouldn't be forgotten is the 'Anti-Spielberg Face' side of this is that there is a whole other slew of emotions that can be conveyed. All of which can resonate with the audience in a similar fashion because they challenge the audience to figure it out rather than explicitly stating the emotion. It's involving. It's entertaining.
Now that I've spoken my peace about Spielberg Face, there's this whole great web series being put on by the same people over at Press Play called Magic and Light: The Films of Steven Spielberg that I've been keeping an eye on. It explores the evolution of his style, and common themes and ideas used repeatedly throughout his works such as his portrayal of authority figures, violence, communication, and father figures.
Episode 1 can be viewed here. At this current date, there's four episodes available, but it appears they're launching one or two a week now and there's no information available as to how many of these episodes they will release, but for any fan of the craft, it's a fantastic series to get into.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Grinding It Out
I've had a video on my Vimeo account that's been on my 'Watch Later' list for months. It was something called 'Ira Glass On Storytelling'. And I assumed it would be a 10-15 minute little talk about his experiences. Well, today I finally sat down and watched it, and it turns out it's this short, sweet, little piece of kinetic typography based off of a talk he gave sort of as a dinner bell for all creatives out there.
It's wonderfully short and inspirational and really rings true to anyone interested in any form of storytelling.
I used to get so frustrated that I couldn't just sit down and write out a story. I'd have a certain style, emotion or situation that I'd want to play out and think would be cool to play around with in a film, but as soon as I'd open up a word document, I'd suddenly get a blank mind. I'd spend ten minutes making the title page look just perfect with the perfect spacing from top of the page to title, and adjusting the 'by line' so it looked just perfect. Then I'd plop down the 'Fade In.'
I just couldn't write anything. I wanted to, I knew the style I was going for. I just didn't have the discipline or knowledge of where to even start.
Only until maybe a couple years ago, did I crawl out of that funk and just began to write little stories. Stories I thought would be good to turn into scripts later. The formatting, the character's names, the order of events didn't have to be decided now. What was most important was getting the nice little seed of an idea from my mind down on paper.
Really the only challenge then was learning to capture the essence of why I liked the idea in the first place. Writing vaguely enough to still inspire me upon later readings, but specific enough to steer my memory back to the moment where my brain sent a jolt through my body and said 'Hey, write this one down. This is good.'
The whole idea of The List has been a major motivator for me. One in that I'm forcing myself to write out all of my inspirations and musings in one place and two, it allows me to exercise the whole discipline of capturing the essence of an idea in a shorthanded way. It's helped me organize my small little situations, styles and emotions that I once wanted to plug into a script, into something tangible and organized for me to work from when I begin writing.
My writing has become more frequent ever since I began The List, and it's serving its purpose to act as sort of a self-manufactured Rosetta Stone for the style that I like.
This week I began writing another little short story that I've been noodling for over a year now. After diving back into research and reading the biographies for my thesis, and my recent re-organization of The List, it has all helped re-focus my attention back onto the writing side of things.
Ira's text is an all-inclusive act of encouragement, for individuals both starting out, and season veterans of frustration. I think I fall somewhere inbetween. I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm far strides from just starting out on this venture.
'Build up your volume of work', he says. It's a rewording of something we've all heard for years, 'The more you write, the better you'll get'. And it's certainly true. But the way it's framed, and the voice that the message is coming from makes those particular words extra encouraging. A sort of tangible encouragement, a relief of 'I know I can do this'.
Anyway, I wanted to share the little video with you Cine'ers if you haven't seen it. It's really important you watch it actually, if you're frustrated and stuck in the mud with your wordsmithing, that is. Just keep grinding it out.
It's wonderfully short and inspirational and really rings true to anyone interested in any form of storytelling.
I used to get so frustrated that I couldn't just sit down and write out a story. I'd have a certain style, emotion or situation that I'd want to play out and think would be cool to play around with in a film, but as soon as I'd open up a word document, I'd suddenly get a blank mind. I'd spend ten minutes making the title page look just perfect with the perfect spacing from top of the page to title, and adjusting the 'by line' so it looked just perfect. Then I'd plop down the 'Fade In.'
I just couldn't write anything. I wanted to, I knew the style I was going for. I just didn't have the discipline or knowledge of where to even start.
Only until maybe a couple years ago, did I crawl out of that funk and just began to write little stories. Stories I thought would be good to turn into scripts later. The formatting, the character's names, the order of events didn't have to be decided now. What was most important was getting the nice little seed of an idea from my mind down on paper.
Really the only challenge then was learning to capture the essence of why I liked the idea in the first place. Writing vaguely enough to still inspire me upon later readings, but specific enough to steer my memory back to the moment where my brain sent a jolt through my body and said 'Hey, write this one down. This is good.'
The whole idea of The List has been a major motivator for me. One in that I'm forcing myself to write out all of my inspirations and musings in one place and two, it allows me to exercise the whole discipline of capturing the essence of an idea in a shorthanded way. It's helped me organize my small little situations, styles and emotions that I once wanted to plug into a script, into something tangible and organized for me to work from when I begin writing.
My writing has become more frequent ever since I began The List, and it's serving its purpose to act as sort of a self-manufactured Rosetta Stone for the style that I like.
This week I began writing another little short story that I've been noodling for over a year now. After diving back into research and reading the biographies for my thesis, and my recent re-organization of The List, it has all helped re-focus my attention back onto the writing side of things.
Ira's text is an all-inclusive act of encouragement, for individuals both starting out, and season veterans of frustration. I think I fall somewhere inbetween. I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm far strides from just starting out on this venture.
'Build up your volume of work', he says. It's a rewording of something we've all heard for years, 'The more you write, the better you'll get'. And it's certainly true. But the way it's framed, and the voice that the message is coming from makes those particular words extra encouraging. A sort of tangible encouragement, a relief of 'I know I can do this'.
Anyway, I wanted to share the little video with you Cine'ers if you haven't seen it. It's really important you watch it actually, if you're frustrated and stuck in the mud with your wordsmithing, that is. Just keep grinding it out.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Everything you wanted to learn and more about animation
You might not know him, but it's nearly certain you've seen his work. Ren & Stimpy creator, John K., is a man to admire.
I recently found his blog and nearly two weeks into my discovery, I'm finding myself spending at least an hour a day going back through his archives and reading through the wealth of knowledge that he's shared with the world and am trying to absorb it all like a sponge.
The guy's a living legend, and it's easily apparent from his blog that he's a life-long learner and loves to share his most recent observations with anyone patient enough to read.
As I said in my previous post, I'm preparing to make a cel-animated piece called "Waltz with Tinsel" so the timing of finding his blog couldn't have been more perfect. Just skimming through his posts has been an awesome crash course on everything animated. From techniques and tips to handling the business side of things, to the whole mess of history that goes along with that beautiful art form-- he covers it all.
I think even the most savvy film geeks who might not even necessarily be into animation could get a lot out of it as well. Check him out here!
EDIT: Also forgot to mention his entirely separate blog just for students wanting to learn and practice animation, go here!
Biting Off Just A Little More Than You Can Chew
It's been a few months since I've written anything in here. It seems like the end of summer and start of fall is when I'm at my busiest; my creative juices start flowing and I really start cranking out work. And this year, it's happening in spades.
As most of you know, this blog was started for two things; to follow the course of my productions and to work on my personal thesis. Well, I'm quickly learning how difficult it is to be proactive in both these ventures AND remain objective in documenting them.
Over this hiatus, we completed production, and are in the middle of post production of Your Milkman. It was a two-night shoot that went incredibly well due to the dedication and talents of the cast and crew involved and was a fantastic learning experience for all of us. Currently, the rough cut is being polished up, and we're gearing up for sound design, composing and color correction.
On the side, I also began writing my thesis. About 70 pages in and just starting to get into the meat of things, I'm coming to grips that this is probably going to become a book, rather than just a lowly little thesis. And even if no one finds this stuff interesting but me, I'll at least have a documented copy that I can reference and sort of treat as my rulebook for making my own projects. It's really helped me articulate my thoughts on this stuff and discover just how grandiose the scope of the concept is to grasp. I've literally got a stack of books and research I need to sift through before I can even begin writing again.
And as of last week, we have figured out our next project: a cel animation. "Waltz with Tinsel" is the working title of it, and deals with the passion of filmmaking as a craft in a fun whimsical way. A large chunk of the thesis hails from the enchantment of animation, and is something I've always wanted to explore. It seemed like the logical next step.
Part of the challenge for me with these thesis-centric short films is finding the right balance between applying the practices of the thesis and the story. What I've learned from Your Milkman is now being applied to this animated piece. If Your Milkman was a near-literal translation of pieces of the thesis, Waltz with Tinsel is the opposition to that. It's subtler in the concepts, and lets the story take the front seat and tell itself.
With any of these projects, I'm forcing myself to bite off just a little more than I can chew. Your Milkman I intended to do as by-the-books as I could, and with that came assembling a crew of people who have never worked together, doing rewrites, raising capital, finding the right locations, casting, rehearsing, balancing budgets, worrying about all of the details that come along with doing a period piece, and to top it all off, coordinating everyone's schedule so that we could all meet at the same location for two consecutive evenings to shoot the film and put our months of planning into action. We lost crew, lost locations, equipment fell through, dates were changed around; it was a daunting year-long process that hasn't even finished yet.
With this thesis, I knew the scope was large and would take some time to research and formulate theories for each facet, and the more that I dive into it, the wider that scope seems.
And now with this animation, I'm delving into a frontier I've never explored before and only have a basic framework of understanding on it.
But there's something to be said for trial-by-fire situations. Sure you're going to make mistakes, but you'll have an enriched knowledge in a multitude of topics so that when the next project comes along, you can challenge yourself further. It's uncomfortable at times and a little reckless, but I'm learning lessons that I couldn't have otherwise if I played it safe and made something I was comfortable with doing. I'm learning to adapt and see things through, even if it means finding a new way to do it. And when a project is over and done with, I'm moving right on to the next one. It's helping me grow as a filmmaker, and it's rewarding to say the least.
So we're currently assembling a team of animators for Waltz with Tinsel. If you're interested, or know of someone who might be, I'd love to discuss that a little further. E-mail me at dskubal@gmail.com
As most of you know, this blog was started for two things; to follow the course of my productions and to work on my personal thesis. Well, I'm quickly learning how difficult it is to be proactive in both these ventures AND remain objective in documenting them.
Over this hiatus, we completed production, and are in the middle of post production of Your Milkman. It was a two-night shoot that went incredibly well due to the dedication and talents of the cast and crew involved and was a fantastic learning experience for all of us. Currently, the rough cut is being polished up, and we're gearing up for sound design, composing and color correction.
On the side, I also began writing my thesis. About 70 pages in and just starting to get into the meat of things, I'm coming to grips that this is probably going to become a book, rather than just a lowly little thesis. And even if no one finds this stuff interesting but me, I'll at least have a documented copy that I can reference and sort of treat as my rulebook for making my own projects. It's really helped me articulate my thoughts on this stuff and discover just how grandiose the scope of the concept is to grasp. I've literally got a stack of books and research I need to sift through before I can even begin writing again.
And as of last week, we have figured out our next project: a cel animation. "Waltz with Tinsel" is the working title of it, and deals with the passion of filmmaking as a craft in a fun whimsical way. A large chunk of the thesis hails from the enchantment of animation, and is something I've always wanted to explore. It seemed like the logical next step.
Part of the challenge for me with these thesis-centric short films is finding the right balance between applying the practices of the thesis and the story. What I've learned from Your Milkman is now being applied to this animated piece. If Your Milkman was a near-literal translation of pieces of the thesis, Waltz with Tinsel is the opposition to that. It's subtler in the concepts, and lets the story take the front seat and tell itself.
With any of these projects, I'm forcing myself to bite off just a little more than I can chew. Your Milkman I intended to do as by-the-books as I could, and with that came assembling a crew of people who have never worked together, doing rewrites, raising capital, finding the right locations, casting, rehearsing, balancing budgets, worrying about all of the details that come along with doing a period piece, and to top it all off, coordinating everyone's schedule so that we could all meet at the same location for two consecutive evenings to shoot the film and put our months of planning into action. We lost crew, lost locations, equipment fell through, dates were changed around; it was a daunting year-long process that hasn't even finished yet.
With this thesis, I knew the scope was large and would take some time to research and formulate theories for each facet, and the more that I dive into it, the wider that scope seems.
And now with this animation, I'm delving into a frontier I've never explored before and only have a basic framework of understanding on it.
But there's something to be said for trial-by-fire situations. Sure you're going to make mistakes, but you'll have an enriched knowledge in a multitude of topics so that when the next project comes along, you can challenge yourself further. It's uncomfortable at times and a little reckless, but I'm learning lessons that I couldn't have otherwise if I played it safe and made something I was comfortable with doing. I'm learning to adapt and see things through, even if it means finding a new way to do it. And when a project is over and done with, I'm moving right on to the next one. It's helping me grow as a filmmaker, and it's rewarding to say the least.
So we're currently assembling a team of animators for Waltz with Tinsel. If you're interested, or know of someone who might be, I'd love to discuss that a little further. E-mail me at dskubal@gmail.com
Friday, August 26, 2011
Review: Geek Wisdom
So pretty much everything I read nowadays, I try to apply it back to my thesis somehow. If a book, song, or film does something well, I try to ask myself what it is I like about it, and try to fit it into the grand scheme of my ideas.
My previous post partially dealt with the unpredictability of (pop)culture. How one particular icon or song can fall into the spotlight and become part of our everyday vernacular, and others with similar value do not. What fell into my lap the same week I wrote that was a book called Geek Wisdom. I did a cover-to-cover read of it in a couple of hours as I awaited my departure from Chicago's O'Hare airport and as I was reading it I couldn't help but relate it back to my thesis.
Disguised as the bathroom reading material that you'd find at your aunt Maude's house, Geek Wisdom offers a bit more beyond just pick-me-ups and words of household wisdom. It serves as a snapshot of pop culture and re-applies the famed quotation back to the very culture that made them famous. There are six chapters that wax philosophical: wisdom of the self, relationships, humankind, conflict, universe and the future. It covers everything from Star Wars to Silence of The Labs.
I'm a bit biased of the book for three reasons. One, because it is co-authored by fellow blogger, cinephile and friend, Zaki Hasan. Two, that I am an utter geek and knowing probably 95% of the quotes proves that. And three, that the book provides a perfect snapshot of the cultural entertainment strata that I am using for my thesis.
Beyond extracting life lessons out of The Dude's affinity for his rug, this book provides a well-rounded snapshot of the last few decade's entertainment and I think it's a perfect setup for a book series that would continue that snapshot.
Check it out yourself. It's available on Amazon, and only like ten bucks!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Y, Oh Why Does Nostalgia Matter?
So this is one story I've really been looking forward to writing about. I stumbled across a New York Times article a few weeks ago from 2009 about my generation (Generation Y) and our apparent fascination with nostalgia.
You can read the article in full here, but to give you the jist of it, the article claims that Generation Y is overly-nostalgic, and at an earlier age than any generation previous to ours. Their argument was attributed to the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The article then explains that a similar surge occurred with the generation that grew up around the JFK assassination and explains why George Lucas' American Graffiti was received so well with them. Whether or not that is the root of our yearning to remember the past is really a moot point.
I argue that we're not any more nostalgic than previous generations, but simply, our fancied items of nostalgia are now 100% accessible to us through the internet. Where previous generations could only rely upon memory to cling to nostalgia, our generation can simply type in anything our heart desires on Youtube and relive it exactly as it was. The internet in this regard, has become a catalog of culture and an ever-growing trail of breadcrumbs by humanity.
If I want to look up a commercial about one of my favorite drinks as a kid, Ecto Cooler, I can. I can watch it and suddenly my subconscious ignites the comforting feelings I hold associated between the drink and summer, swimming, camping and riding bikes. Who doesn't want to occasionally think about that? It's a memory jog that transports you to a moment that then sparks a flood of emotions and leaves you longing for more. It sounds like a bit of a narcotic, really, but it's a commonality we all share to some degree. It's human nature to use techniques of escapism. We vacation to clear our minds of the here and now, we go to class reunions to catch up with old friends and re-live memories from school, and we watch movies and read books in order to spend a few hours in someone else's shoes. Nostalgia is what we do to review our lives and gain further appreciation for one's life. Even if you're 100% happy with your life at this very moment, there are still those objects, events, songs, activities and cultural experiences we all shared growing up that serve as an avenue toward a type of happiness you may not even have access to anymore. With the most powerful forms of nostalgia, not only are you experiencing it by reliving it, but the experience is often common enough that it can be shared by everyone in your age group.
Shortly after finding the NY Times article, Roger Ebert posted an article titled "Clinging To The Rear View Mirror" that is also pretty pertinent to this discussion. Ebert discusses an interview he found from famed media theorist Marshall McLuhan (conducted by Playboy no less) that discusses our frame of reference to the world. He quotes McLuhan who said:
That statement to me, defines the framework of nostalgia. As every generation develops their own unique cultural experiences and events, they can only truly appreciate them for what they were, not what they are. It's the same reason that humans are mentally incapable of fully psycho-analyzing themselves without creating some sort of bias. It requires perspective to see the whole picture and the only way to do that is examine it in retrospective, because not only is the environment different, you are different as well. I don't think you could listen to the radio right now and say "this is going to be considered an oldie, and one of the most defining songs of our generation," because you just can't tell what's going to be picked up in the long-term cultural strata.
In McLuhan's quote, he specifically uses the word "visible", which I find interesting. He implies that there is an invisible value towards everything that can only reveal itself after the cultural environment has changed. There's always a lag. In that lag, certain things fall out of memory, but the things that stick around in the cultural strata have a sudden increase in nostalgic value. I would argue, and I think McLuhan would have too, that these items are likely still in the strata because they become icons of an era in the same way that my Ecto cooler commercial became an icon of not just mine, but a majority of my generation's childhood. It wasn't important to my life by any means, other than it was a simple pleasure of childhood; just a treat on those hot summer days. It wasn't until it was gone and I had grown up that I appreciated it and it gained value to me. Its label, the color of it, the fact that it came in an aluminum can and required mom or dad to open it with a church key in order to drink the liquid ambrosia. It was unique. In retrospect, it served as a positive linking chain between several of my favorite childhood memories and likely did that for the rest of my generation as well (to those with mothers who let them drink it, anyway). If Generation Y is actually more nostalgic than previous generations, then consider me a major instigator of that culture. But I argue that capitalizing on the nostalgics is an important way of providing a deeper more enriching experience for your audience.
Oldies stay hits because, not only do they remind you of events in your past, but more importantly they also do the same for everyone else. Obviously not every song from years past is going to give you that feel, but based off of McLuhan's statement and my argument, the ones that will achieve 'oldies' status are the ones that spark a web of memories across a multitude of people.
I recognize these ideas are a bit abstract, especially linking the two articles together, but let's bring this back down to why this is relevant and apply it to my thesis. This whole concept behind the importance of nostalgia really falls under the umbrella of maybe four major pillars of my thesis. Nostalgia, child wonderment, folklore/fairy tale, and socio/cultural constants all act as tools to achieve the same result. A deeply-rooted bond between the art and the audience.
For the sake of time and wordiness with this article, I'm just going to focus on nostalgia for now, but you'll start to see how all of these are important. In a story that employs any of these four tools, there is not only a personal bond generated, but also a cross-relational bond from individual to individual, allowing the masses to connect and respond as one grand audience. And as most of the old guards of film will tell you, films are best viewed as a public experience, rather than a private. I would argue that it's for that reason.
I went to a screening last night of the Criterion archive's 35mm print of The Day The Earth Stood Still. I tried watching the beginning of that film once before on my own and I couldn't get into it, but the whole experience of it was enchanting seeing it in a theater with a captive audience. People were snickering together in small pockets across the theater, which in turn would make us laugh a little. It was as if the snickering gave us permission, a social cue, to laugh and enjoy it as well. It's a form of reaffirmation that you are understanding the film, in the same way it's as comforting to someone when they are speaking to you. The screening showed part of a dramatic serial and an old Tex Avery cartoon before hand and I think that alone got the audience in the right mindset of the film. It was a shared bond between the collective audience. I loved the whole experience, not only for the appreciation of the film, but appreciation for the situation. It was nostalgic for something I didn't grow up with but could still appreciate it, and that was amplified by sharing the film with a group of people and all giving one another permission to enjoy it. This enjoyment, in contrast with my original perception of the film watching it on my own, just reinforces that train of though. It really was appreciating the culture of it all, and the importance of sharing that experience with a group of people.
All of the great films arguably tap deep into the bones and bowels of humanity and really affect the audience to the core. I don't think nostalgia is the only way to achieve this, but I DO think it is a very effective way. Let me use a simple example here by examining the genius of Family Guy. Seth Macfarlane is guilty to the Nth degree of practicing this idea. The general shtick of the show relies on obscure cultural references that are not only humorous, but allow the audience to engage the material on a deeper level. I carefully say 'cultural references', NOT 'pop cultural references', because even though a majority of their jokes float on viewers' knowledge of pop culture, they aren't necessarily responsible for every joke on the show. For example, the joke of Peter and Lois occasionally falling down and skinning their knees and gasping in pain is one of those popular gags. Everyone has at one time fallen down and skinned their knee and some how the gasping and rocking back and forth makes it feel a little bit better. It's easily relatable and you can instantly bond with the material. Where a simple act of physical comedy might have been funny just on its own, it's now relatably funny because it's one of those little quirks in humanity that we all have done and provides a deeper connection between the audience and the material.
Now let me flip this on its head and get incredibly meta here. By a popular show, like Family Guy, uniquely tapping into those universal behaviors and making a joke out of it, it is suddenly pop culture. Once the joke is seen and is repeated, it becomes intratextual, in that it references itself, and it's funny not necessarily because it's a human behavior, but because we've all seen it before and it's something we all share. So pop culture can feed itself and work upon itself, but it's those types of connections with the audience that suddenly take a film, show, piece of art... whatever... to the next level to be recognized as something more timeless and relatable.
Again, I recognize how abstract the idea is, and it may sound a bit silly, but I think it's one of those tools that has been in practice since humanity's interest in entertainment. Somehow it has remained unlabeled and unexamined. To me, it's certainly a concept worth looking at when studying the canon of popular entertainment.
You can read the article in full here, but to give you the jist of it, the article claims that Generation Y is overly-nostalgic, and at an earlier age than any generation previous to ours. Their argument was attributed to the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The article then explains that a similar surge occurred with the generation that grew up around the JFK assassination and explains why George Lucas' American Graffiti was received so well with them. Whether or not that is the root of our yearning to remember the past is really a moot point.
I argue that we're not any more nostalgic than previous generations, but simply, our fancied items of nostalgia are now 100% accessible to us through the internet. Where previous generations could only rely upon memory to cling to nostalgia, our generation can simply type in anything our heart desires on Youtube and relive it exactly as it was. The internet in this regard, has become a catalog of culture and an ever-growing trail of breadcrumbs by humanity.
If I want to look up a commercial about one of my favorite drinks as a kid, Ecto Cooler, I can. I can watch it and suddenly my subconscious ignites the comforting feelings I hold associated between the drink and summer, swimming, camping and riding bikes. Who doesn't want to occasionally think about that? It's a memory jog that transports you to a moment that then sparks a flood of emotions and leaves you longing for more. It sounds like a bit of a narcotic, really, but it's a commonality we all share to some degree. It's human nature to use techniques of escapism. We vacation to clear our minds of the here and now, we go to class reunions to catch up with old friends and re-live memories from school, and we watch movies and read books in order to spend a few hours in someone else's shoes. Nostalgia is what we do to review our lives and gain further appreciation for one's life. Even if you're 100% happy with your life at this very moment, there are still those objects, events, songs, activities and cultural experiences we all shared growing up that serve as an avenue toward a type of happiness you may not even have access to anymore. With the most powerful forms of nostalgia, not only are you experiencing it by reliving it, but the experience is often common enough that it can be shared by everyone in your age group.
Shortly after finding the NY Times article, Roger Ebert posted an article titled "Clinging To The Rear View Mirror" that is also pretty pertinent to this discussion. Ebert discusses an interview he found from famed media theorist Marshall McLuhan (conducted by Playboy no less) that discusses our frame of reference to the world. He quotes McLuhan who said:
"Man is only consciously aware of the environment that has preceded it; in other words, an environment becomes fully visible only when it has been superseded by a new environment; thus we are always one step behind in our view of the world."
That statement to me, defines the framework of nostalgia. As every generation develops their own unique cultural experiences and events, they can only truly appreciate them for what they were, not what they are. It's the same reason that humans are mentally incapable of fully psycho-analyzing themselves without creating some sort of bias. It requires perspective to see the whole picture and the only way to do that is examine it in retrospective, because not only is the environment different, you are different as well. I don't think you could listen to the radio right now and say "this is going to be considered an oldie, and one of the most defining songs of our generation," because you just can't tell what's going to be picked up in the long-term cultural strata.
In McLuhan's quote, he specifically uses the word "visible", which I find interesting. He implies that there is an invisible value towards everything that can only reveal itself after the cultural environment has changed. There's always a lag. In that lag, certain things fall out of memory, but the things that stick around in the cultural strata have a sudden increase in nostalgic value. I would argue, and I think McLuhan would have too, that these items are likely still in the strata because they become icons of an era in the same way that my Ecto cooler commercial became an icon of not just mine, but a majority of my generation's childhood. It wasn't important to my life by any means, other than it was a simple pleasure of childhood; just a treat on those hot summer days. It wasn't until it was gone and I had grown up that I appreciated it and it gained value to me. Its label, the color of it, the fact that it came in an aluminum can and required mom or dad to open it with a church key in order to drink the liquid ambrosia. It was unique. In retrospect, it served as a positive linking chain between several of my favorite childhood memories and likely did that for the rest of my generation as well (to those with mothers who let them drink it, anyway). If Generation Y is actually more nostalgic than previous generations, then consider me a major instigator of that culture. But I argue that capitalizing on the nostalgics is an important way of providing a deeper more enriching experience for your audience.
Oldies stay hits because, not only do they remind you of events in your past, but more importantly they also do the same for everyone else. Obviously not every song from years past is going to give you that feel, but based off of McLuhan's statement and my argument, the ones that will achieve 'oldies' status are the ones that spark a web of memories across a multitude of people.
I recognize these ideas are a bit abstract, especially linking the two articles together, but let's bring this back down to why this is relevant and apply it to my thesis. This whole concept behind the importance of nostalgia really falls under the umbrella of maybe four major pillars of my thesis. Nostalgia, child wonderment, folklore/fairy tale, and socio/cultural constants all act as tools to achieve the same result. A deeply-rooted bond between the art and the audience.
For the sake of time and wordiness with this article, I'm just going to focus on nostalgia for now, but you'll start to see how all of these are important. In a story that employs any of these four tools, there is not only a personal bond generated, but also a cross-relational bond from individual to individual, allowing the masses to connect and respond as one grand audience. And as most of the old guards of film will tell you, films are best viewed as a public experience, rather than a private. I would argue that it's for that reason.
I went to a screening last night of the Criterion archive's 35mm print of The Day The Earth Stood Still. I tried watching the beginning of that film once before on my own and I couldn't get into it, but the whole experience of it was enchanting seeing it in a theater with a captive audience. People were snickering together in small pockets across the theater, which in turn would make us laugh a little. It was as if the snickering gave us permission, a social cue, to laugh and enjoy it as well. It's a form of reaffirmation that you are understanding the film, in the same way it's as comforting to someone when they are speaking to you. The screening showed part of a dramatic serial and an old Tex Avery cartoon before hand and I think that alone got the audience in the right mindset of the film. It was a shared bond between the collective audience. I loved the whole experience, not only for the appreciation of the film, but appreciation for the situation. It was nostalgic for something I didn't grow up with but could still appreciate it, and that was amplified by sharing the film with a group of people and all giving one another permission to enjoy it. This enjoyment, in contrast with my original perception of the film watching it on my own, just reinforces that train of though. It really was appreciating the culture of it all, and the importance of sharing that experience with a group of people.
All of the great films arguably tap deep into the bones and bowels of humanity and really affect the audience to the core. I don't think nostalgia is the only way to achieve this, but I DO think it is a very effective way. Let me use a simple example here by examining the genius of Family Guy. Seth Macfarlane is guilty to the Nth degree of practicing this idea. The general shtick of the show relies on obscure cultural references that are not only humorous, but allow the audience to engage the material on a deeper level. I carefully say 'cultural references', NOT 'pop cultural references', because even though a majority of their jokes float on viewers' knowledge of pop culture, they aren't necessarily responsible for every joke on the show. For example, the joke of Peter and Lois occasionally falling down and skinning their knees and gasping in pain is one of those popular gags. Everyone has at one time fallen down and skinned their knee and some how the gasping and rocking back and forth makes it feel a little bit better. It's easily relatable and you can instantly bond with the material. Where a simple act of physical comedy might have been funny just on its own, it's now relatably funny because it's one of those little quirks in humanity that we all have done and provides a deeper connection between the audience and the material.
Now let me flip this on its head and get incredibly meta here. By a popular show, like Family Guy, uniquely tapping into those universal behaviors and making a joke out of it, it is suddenly pop culture. Once the joke is seen and is repeated, it becomes intratextual, in that it references itself, and it's funny not necessarily because it's a human behavior, but because we've all seen it before and it's something we all share. So pop culture can feed itself and work upon itself, but it's those types of connections with the audience that suddenly take a film, show, piece of art... whatever... to the next level to be recognized as something more timeless and relatable.
Again, I recognize how abstract the idea is, and it may sound a bit silly, but I think it's one of those tools that has been in practice since humanity's interest in entertainment. Somehow it has remained unlabeled and unexamined. To me, it's certainly a concept worth looking at when studying the canon of popular entertainment.
Wanna Work With Spielberg?
You'd better know your stuff. A list has been floating around the internet this past week called "The Spielberg Curriculum". It contains 206 films that Spielberg allegedly requires any collaborators of his to see.
Whether or not the list is a true manifesto straight from the horse's mouth isn't really important, but it just makes things more interesting. Plus, it just seems in line with several speeches I've heard from him stating essentially that.
This one produced for AFI specifically comes to mind.
Not only has someone kindly shared the list on a Google doc, but they've also gone through and highlighted all of the films on Sir Steven's list that are available on Netflix Instant View. Check it out here.
People seem to be upset that it's American-heavy and that there are virtually no modern classics on there, and that there are a lot missing that they think belong on there. Well, that's fine. These are movies HE recommends. If you want validity in your complaint, watch the films on the list and THEN you can criticize it and make your own list.
So how many have you seen from the list? My number is pretty shameful, at just under 40, with maybe another dozen or so that I've seen parts of. It looks like I've got a nice homework assignment to do.
EDIT: After a few days of the list being live, there is now a small disclaimer at the bottom stating that the list is debunked but still remains a fantastic list for film enthusiasts looking to learn the building blocks of storytelling.
Whether or not the list is a true manifesto straight from the horse's mouth isn't really important, but it just makes things more interesting. Plus, it just seems in line with several speeches I've heard from him stating essentially that.
This one produced for AFI specifically comes to mind.
Not only has someone kindly shared the list on a Google doc, but they've also gone through and highlighted all of the films on Sir Steven's list that are available on Netflix Instant View. Check it out here.
People seem to be upset that it's American-heavy and that there are virtually no modern classics on there, and that there are a lot missing that they think belong on there. Well, that's fine. These are movies HE recommends. If you want validity in your complaint, watch the films on the list and THEN you can criticize it and make your own list.
So how many have you seen from the list? My number is pretty shameful, at just under 40, with maybe another dozen or so that I've seen parts of. It looks like I've got a nice homework assignment to do.
EDIT: After a few days of the list being live, there is now a small disclaimer at the bottom stating that the list is debunked but still remains a fantastic list for film enthusiasts looking to learn the building blocks of storytelling.
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