I saw three ships come sailing in
on Christmas day
on Christmas day
Gabriel was riding first class
on Christmas day
and brought with him new amp for his horn
loud enough to say "the Savior is born!"
"the Savior is Born!"
Loud enough to blow bystander's eardrums out
Huzzah! He yells to us all with a shout
The yuletide train rumbles and shakes through the town
past the house, past the orphanage, waking all those
for thousands of miles around.
On his way to the north pole he goes
honking without ceasing to let the world know
that if he has to work at such an hour an day
"so will you...ya freakin idiots. It's 5am, get on the slave train."
and that's where the poem ends. After that all his robotic henchmen exit the train cars and make their way through the streets, going house to house putting children and old people into cages to be shipped off to Santa's factory.
12.23.2008
McDonald's Ever Shrinking Menu
As Hardee's menu continues to expand into a buffet-array of unneeded food choices; burgers, chicken, burgers, roast beef, deserts, breakfasts, hot dogs, chili dogs, coffee lattes, bistros, ice cream, pancakes, tacos....McDonald's continues to mysteriously shrink. Each time I enter the restaurant and look above the counter at the glowing plastic menus I spend a good two to three minutes searching for something that I want to eat. I don't know what I want, but I know that whatever I would get is not there, because there are only like seven things on the menu. Where each panel used to consist of numerous lines of text, they are now each dividded into seperate pictures. One big picture for each panel: a big mac meal, dollar menu, and two fancy sandwiches that don't look greasy enough for my consumption. And so I stare, look around for lesser advertised or hidden menu items...nothing. Are there menu items that still exist that you have to order through shady back-channels or code words? I'll have the you-know-what, covered in a s&^%$load of "ease-gre", please. McDonalds is widdling down its selection to the point where one day they will only specialize in double cheeseburgers covered in fries, like a hamhorseshoe, except it won't be covered in cheese because they're too stingy with it. I'm not sure where they get their dairy supply but it must be from some fancy cow reserve in Switzerland, where cows are each given a hundred acres of prime land to themselves, and whos teets are milked by only the smoothest of hands, preferably by hand-models. Yes, well, I just hope that in the years to come when they've regressed back to the 1930's and once again only serve HAMBURGER! (IT'S BEEF, GROUND INTO A PASTE!) that it will at least be the greasiest, most fattening, deeply satisfiying experience of my life. Grease is cheap, cheaper than whatever cheese they happen to be using, so by my calculations the only way they can make up for their poor selection is to increase grease production. Packets of grease next the ketchup dispenser would be fantastic. Thanks.
It could all just be psychology. Think about it, fewer choices usually make the available ones seem more seductive and delicious (like when you join the army and anything of the slightest femininity is coveted). Even if the best chefs on the planet were the cooks at Old Country Buffet, and prepared each dish with individual care, it would still suck. But, if you package crap in a way that looks like minimum wage employees are working ONLY on that ONE thing it fools the customer into believing the quality is higher, that it's something great. They imagine some elaborate process occuring in a secret kitchen area, where a team of Oompa Loompas dance and toss bags of secret ingredients back and forth to create a special ordered number 4 value meal.
It could all just be psychology. Think about it, fewer choices usually make the available ones seem more seductive and delicious (like when you join the army and anything of the slightest femininity is coveted). Even if the best chefs on the planet were the cooks at Old Country Buffet, and prepared each dish with individual care, it would still suck. But, if you package crap in a way that looks like minimum wage employees are working ONLY on that ONE thing it fools the customer into believing the quality is higher, that it's something great. They imagine some elaborate process occuring in a secret kitchen area, where a team of Oompa Loompas dance and toss bags of secret ingredients back and forth to create a special ordered number 4 value meal.
12.16.2008
12.15.2008
Sunset Grill, coming this fall to NBC
I think that Don Henley's hit song Sunset Grill was actually the themesong for a failed 1980's pilot episode of a show by the same title. It probably starred Rick Springfield as the easy going bartender slash live act of Pensacola's working man's bar; The Sunset Grill, where the only thing hotter than the fajitas are the guitar licks. Deuce (Springfield's character) loses his steelworking job in Pittsburgh and decides to leave it all behind, driving to Florida in his 1970 Ford Maverick in hopes of reuniting with his long lost uncle. When he gets there he learns that his uncle has unfortunately passed away but has left him the deed to a bar he owned. There was only one stipulation however..."make it rock" were his uncle's dying words..."make it rock hard! Aaarrrgh."
However, the evil fat cat (played by none other than Ben Gazzara) wants to buy all the beach front property and turn it into a toxic waste dumping ground. Once he gets wind of Deuce's hippy plan to revitalize the neighborhood, he sends his tight-panted cronies to strong arm Deuce into accepting his demands: by any means necessary...including excessive force. However, through the power of love, music and and shots of kalua, the simple patrons of Sunset Grill manage to save their bar...for one more day at least. Episode 2 gets even better when a new girl (Sean Young) arrives in town looking for a job, and how can Deuce resist her southern sass! I smell a romance!
UPDATE:
Well...I give up. Next time I'll be sure to do some research. The real thing is even more craptastic than I could have imagined...still, it's oddly similar... http://www.imdb.com/titl/tt0108253/
However, the evil fat cat (played by none other than Ben Gazzara) wants to buy all the beach front property and turn it into a toxic waste dumping ground. Once he gets wind of Deuce's hippy plan to revitalize the neighborhood, he sends his tight-panted cronies to strong arm Deuce into accepting his demands: by any means necessary...including excessive force. However, through the power of love, music and and shots of kalua, the simple patrons of Sunset Grill manage to save their bar...for one more day at least. Episode 2 gets even better when a new girl (Sean Young) arrives in town looking for a job, and how can Deuce resist her southern sass! I smell a romance!
UPDATE:
Well...I give up. Next time I'll be sure to do some research. The real thing is even more craptastic than I could have imagined...still, it's oddly similar... http://www.imdb.com/titl/tt0108253/
The Distant Narrative Hand of the C-Movie
Since the 1930’s the b-movie has taken on different forms and meanings but has always at it’s core been primarily about quantity, saturating the market and reeling in profit. This assembly-line output of low budget genre pictures continued in the usual studio controlled fashion until around the mid 1970’s when the popularity of new home entertainment such as cable, satellite and VCR began to quickly rise. In order to seize upon this newly expanding market, movie and television companies began distributing the work of small-time filmmakers which ushered in a new generation of b-movies primarily outside studio control called “c-movies” (Prince 186)Now that wayward projects from no-name studios finally had a home, the amount of low budget pictures began to rival (if not surpass) that of Hollywood’s golden age. But what’s interesting here is that even with the mass of new poorly financed films, budget issues really aren’t much more of a factor in determining their quality than it is for 1950’s b-movies. What did change with these films though is a sudden decline of editing and cinematography used to support the narrative. What I will try to argue here is that the primary cause of low quality in c-films (specifically from 1975-1990) is their failure to “deliberately guide the thoughts and associations of the spectator” (Pudhovkin 10) with the editing techniques laid out by Vsevolod Pudovkin. And because of this main deficiency the other filmic elements (which are unavoidably constrained by cost) are thrust into the forefront (made more obvious) by the non-existence of those responsible for the film’s final product.
In his article on editing from the book Film Technique Pudovkin defines the three basic overall structures that make a film; scene, sequence and scenario, and he then goes on to explain the specific editing techniques that are used to guide the spectator, to make them see and feel what the filmmaker wants them to. The prime issue with c-movies, however, is not their ability to piece together a scene in its basic form (alternating shots), but in the way their overall sequences try to build toward a climax yet rarely ever use any of the special editing techniques such as contrast or parallelism. Specifically what I will look at first is the buildup toward the supposed “moment of great tension” and then analyze the breakdown of suspense (or whatever emotion is trying to be evoked). The first film chosen for this discussion is the 1978 film Laserblast, directed by Michael Rae, it tells the story of a teenager named Billy who lives a cliché, 1970’s, southern California, slacker lifestyle. After discovering a giant laser gun that was left in the desert by aliens Billy begins to transform into a mindless killing machine, blasting everything in sight and getting revenge on all those who have been hassling him. The third act begins when Billy laser-blasts one of the town sheriffs who had questioned him the previous day about an incident. At this point in the usual Hollywood narrative we would most likely see simultaneous editing used; Billy’s girlfriend has discovered his transformation , the aliens are trying to recover their laser gun, and a government agent (as well as the police) are on his trail. So, the normal course of action would be to show these three or four threads of interests at the same time, cutting back and forth between each and inevitably coming to a head, resolving. But instead Laserblast inverts this formula by giving the most screen time to inconsequential events while totally glossing over the storytelling elements that build audience suspense.
Essentially there are three important character points of view happening towards the end of this movie; Billy, his girlfriend and the aliens, but for some reason the film decides to forgo the fleshing out of those parts in favor of letting Billy blow some more stuff up. Throughout the third act crisis portion we see Billy on a rampage, this cuts back very quickly to two confusing, slow paced scenes at the house of his girlfriend where the federal agent has arrived to inform her that Billy is infected by an alien disease (though he never actually says this, it’s inferred). Also interspersed is one brief scene which shows the aliens inspecting a car destroyed by Billy, one of only three scenes that show the aliens searching for him; one at the beginning, middle and final scene). As I mentioned, a typical film would focus the majority of the final act on the rapid development of these three parts and, through quick cuts between multiple events, the editing would reflect the urgency of all parties trying to prevent Billy from causing further damage. Instead the editing focuses on three scenes (each of which lasts at least two minutes) that have no effect whatsoever on the final outcome. The first is a two minute and thirty second scene of Chuck and Eddie (the comic relief) driving along the highway in their classic car. Nothing of consequence happens here, Eddie delivers some silly lines about the recent mysterious laser blast incidents, and just they drive along the highway for 2 ½ minutes while a tracking shot shows us how beautiful their car is. Finally they see Billy appear on the side of the road who then blows them up with the ray gun. This relatively slow scene right in the middle of the final act kills whatever pacing might have otherwise been achieved. There are two more examples like this in the third act alone; the second is a long scene where we see Billy wandering the desert and suddenly a small aircraft appears. One of the passengers wielding a rifle begins firing down at him, the plane circles around and they begin exchanging fire until Billy finally destroys the aircraft. One of the major problems of this scene is that it happens out of sequence. The part of the film in which we see the authorities escalate their search happened a good ten to fifteen minutes earlier when this scene finally occurs it’s ambiguous as to who these people in the airplane are, and why they are just now attacking Billy. Since the scene occurs late in the film, and in a strange sequence, all it does is serve to disrupt the pace. The third scene that the film pointlessly introduces happens a few minutes later when Billy hitches a ride from a hippie and then kills him. He is picked up by the stereotypical stoner character who offers him drugs and tries to make casual conversation. Billy then puts on the crystal necklace that causes him to turn into an mindless monster and blasts the hippie out the driver side door. Taking control of the vehicle he drives to the location of the final scene. What I think these faults illustrate is not an overall flaw in the writing (though it is bad) but in the final decision making regarding editing. These long scenes inserted into the film which break up the cohesiveness of the climax do not introduce new narrative, so the scenes do not disrupt the flow of the story arc, they simply drag it down and divert the viewer from their desire to feel tension and get to the resolution. By the time we get to the final confrontation between Billy, the aliens, his girlfriend and the agent, their motivation and urgency in the moment has become so convoluted and dragged out that audience is basically lost. It’s similar to a roller coaster that makes you get off once it reaches the top, then let’s you back on once it’s reached the bottom, and so the scenarists do not, “in even rhythm”, transfer the interest of the spectator through a series of events (13)
Another film that has the same basic problem of building scenes in a way that manipulates audience expectation is the 1985 sci-fi picture Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. But Instead of the lopsided, jumbled scene order and length like we saw in Laserblast, we have a series of scenes that are edited in a homogenous, sequential style that’s a common flaw in many c-movies. In what is supposed to be the climax of the film the main character; Fingal (played by the late Raul Julia), is trying to escape from the evil Novicorp corporation mainframe that his mind has been trapped in during a routine therapy session (like Total Recall and The Matrix). With the help of a Novicorp employee named Apollonia he tries to hack the program and escape before the chairman can get rid of him. Unlike Laserblast which at least attempts simultaneous storytelling in the finale, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank employs no special editing techniques and barely achieves anything resembling a finale. Each scene concludes the action it begins and then, in an almost episodic manner, moves on to the next important plot point. First is a scene in which Apollonia is wondering where Fingal’s misplaced body is so that it can be reconnected with his mind. “Time is running out” she says to the character (Toobie) who’s actually doing the searching. Ten or fifteen minutes later, in a completely anticlimactic fashion, Toobie carts in Fingal’s lost body. Never once does the film actually show him searching for it, so one of the important parts of the “beat the clock” suspense happens completely off-screen, defeating the purpose. Next is a scene in which the Novicorp chairman tries to convince Fingal to stop causing problems for the corporation, to end his attempts at overriding the company’s mainframe and just assimilate and conform like everyone else. In just one scene we see the confrontation, the bargain proposed by the Chairman, and then Fingal’s refusal. Once again we see an example where the tension is thwarted immediately. In a plot device that’s usually used to make the audience wonder if the main character will do the right thing, often interspersed among other scenes of simultaneous heightened action, this movie settles the question without dragging it the point of highest tension, leading the audience nowhere. Needless to say the film continues like this right until the end.
These are just a few of many examples where c-movies do not use basic simultaneity editing, for whatever reason, and as a result lose the impact that could have possibly been created. As a result 1980’s low budget films play more like video game where the main characters complete each stage as they rush to complete their objectives. In the action based films of this c-movie category it’s often just an all out chaotic onslaught and the tension is never escalated in the narrative between what the antagonist is trying to do (what he does during the brief moments he has the upper hand) and the movement of the protagonist to stop him. In many examples these films (especially sci-fi, dystopia, fantasy “epics” like Deathstalker III, Space Mutiny and Warrior from the Lost World) simply plateau at a frenzied pace without reinforcing the importance of the stakes through careful editing. It’s the blandest of sequential editing that merely shows every element happen in order from least to greatest threat. The directors and editors in a majority of these movies are unable to build a web of even the most basic complexity, and as a result of having such a shaky foundation the other elements within the films are forced to carry the interest level, which they would have a hard time doing even if the editing and cinematography were good.
The third issue connected to editing is seen in the 1985 creature film Boggy Creek II; written, produced and starring Charles B. Pierce. Like the previous movies discussed this also suffers from awkward pacing and poorly arranged shots and scenes but introduces another issue common to many c-movies; using the camera as a passive observer instead of simulating the character’s point of view for the audience. Boggy Creek II is a typical group survival movie about three college students and their professor who go to the swamps of southern Arkansas in search of the legendary Boggy Creek creature. The scene in question here is when the professor first encounters the creature face to face. The group is woken up in the middle night by the perimeter alarm in their camper, after observing the creature’s movement on his computer Doc takes his rifle out for closer investigation. This type of scene where the main group first encounters and is cornered by a threat is very common and usually follows the same formula from film to film; wait for the creature to make the first move, build suspense through isolation, curiosity and wonder, etc. Low budget pictures often try to emulate the established conventions of larger Hollywood genre films, and while the basic elements are present this particular scene is unable to create a sense of panic. First is problem of perspective, director Charles B. Pierce puts the camera, and thus the audience perspective, in the corner of the camper looking in on the action. What we see is the group standing huddled inside their camper watching the creature’s movement on the computer screen. We can see that they are frightened but that’s all, because the director never uses the camera to make us aware of an external threat. For example the characters might glance out the window, in fact Tim (one of the students) does briefly look outside but the camera never shows what he was looking for or at, violating Pudovkin’s rule about editing the scene which says that the shot of a character’s gaze should be followed by the object of that gaze (7) The buildup of tension continues to diminish with two external long-shots of the camper. They are in a clearing in the middle of the woods that acts as a camp site. The camera is placed fifty or so yards from the entrance of the camper. With that, the director eases tension because we can clearly see there is no monster nearby. If the camera acts as the spectator’s eye then this also makes us feel safe and insulated because we’re in the general space of the creature, and nothing has happened, so it must be ok. Next in the scene Doc decides to go out and confront the creature, but first he and Tim must turn on the floodlight. Once again we are not given the character’s point of view at all and so we end up with another medium-long shot of Doc and Tim exiting the camper, looking cautious, but obviously not in danger. And because we aren’t shown the dark forest surrounding them we can’t identify with their panic since the aim of the camera shelters us from direction of the threat.
Continuing with the same kind of point of view deficiencies I’d like to look at the opening sequence of 1990’s The Final Sacrifice, a film about a teenage boy named Troy who, with the help of a burly drifter named Zap Rousdower, tries to follow a map to a lost city that his deceased father had previously discovered. The film starts off with Troy in the basement of his house, researching his dead father’s life where he discovers the map to the lost city. The next day we see Troy alone in the kitchen of his house when a mysterious hooded cult shows up and demands the map. This begins a three and a half minute chase scene that I would like to focus on in detail since chases and pursuits are a common feature in the genre film (which the majority of c-films are). First of all, the major problem that exists in the c-movie chase scene is that shots are often fixed in multiple locations surrounding the action. Instead of a steady flow of action emanating from the protagonist’s evasion of the threat it’s more like watching the event happen from the perspective of security cameras randomly planted around the location. In one thirty second long shot the film shows Satoris (leader of the cult) standing in the kitchen calling out for Troy to hand over the map, “Troy! I know you can hear me and I know you have the map, I want it”. The next shot is from outside the house which shows Troy looking out the basement window as cult thugs run by.
Because the film does not show us any response from Troy the purpose of Satoris’ threat becomes irrelevant. Next is a shot of the thugs running down a flight of stairs that we assume leads to the basement where Troy is. But once again there is no reaction from Troy, we just see him scurry out the window, followed by four shots that lead the action toward a fixed point in the street, where Troy then gets on a bike and ride away from the camera. It may seem inconsequential but the shot mentioned immediately separates the viewer from the involvement they’re supposed to feel in the scene. The sequence of shots brings the action away from the house and then into the street where the camera becomes a useless bystander, the third point in a triangle between Troy riding away on a bicycle and the thugs in pursuit. Once again we arrive at two more unnecessary shots; the first is of Rousdower somewhere away from the action trying to get his truck to start. Second, we see a thug get into his car to chase after Troy. Forty-five seconds pass before we see Troy again, an eternity in chase sequence time, and by this point we have no idea where he is or if we should even be worried anymore. In most chase sequences the director relies mostly either on shots close to the perspective of the protagonist or shots from the perspective of bystanders. What happens in Final Sacrifice is that there are no bystanders whatsoever so we end up identifying only with the camera, who’s presence alone should rarely (if ever) act as a character within the film.
Hopefully through this brief discussion I’ve been able to demonstrate some of the major problems that exist in the cinema category called c-films, all of which stem from the central issue of passive editing. This failure by the director and editor to take control of their story and manipulate the flow of emotions in an evenhanded manner is what I believe to be the greatest fault in this specific era of the low budget movies. Of course budget issues are more complex and varied than what I addressed here, and so a lot of this has been based on an assumption that filmmakers can overcome this obstacle, and that there are enough examples to prove it. Does this mean that the people working on these films are the bottom of the barrel, talent-wise? Not necessarily, and I don’t believe there was any great decrease in talent from the old days of Hollywood b-movies to the c-movies discussed here. What I think did change was the assembly line process. Old b-movies still went through the studio filter and as a result their final product still had a semblance of quality. 1980’s c-movies rarely had the backing of a major studio and had to rely on their own enthusiasm and love of the established conventions they grew up watching. That is why I’m hesitant to simply equate budget issues to the shortcomings of these directors and editors, something that’s very difficult to prove. Based on Pudhovkin’s statements that “editing is one of the most significant instruments of effect possessed by the film technician” (7) and “an important instrument of impression” (12) my goal here was to simply point out what I saw as an extremely common thread that runs through this specific niche in movie history. What does this all mean? What caused these filmmakers to be so predictable and hands-off with their creations? I’m not sure, there’s too much history to sift through. What is interesting though, and something that could help further investigation is the relatively recent rise in the ease and availability of computer based editing software which has made it easier for even the poorest of filmmakers to get flashy results. Somewhere between the mid nineties and this decade the c-movie died, or at least evolved into a new set of problems for the low budget filmmaker, perhaps inherent in all visual media of poor quality. We’ll see.
Works Cited
Boggy Creek II: And the Legend Continues. Dir. Charles B. Pierce. Perf. Charles B. Pierce. Charles B. Pierce Pictures Inc., 1985.
The Final Sacrifice. Dir. Tjardus Greidanus. Perf. Christian Malcolm. Flying Dutchman Productions Ltd, 1990.
“The Internet Movie Database.” IMDB. 30 Nov. 2008.
Laserblast. Dir. Michael Rae. Perf. Kim Milford. Selected Pictures, 1978.
Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. Dir. Douglas Williams. Perf. Raul Julia. RSL, 1983.
Prince, Stephen . A new pot of gold : Hollywood under the electronic rainbow, 1980-1989. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2000.
Pudovkin, Vsevolod. "Film Technique." Film Theory and Criticism. Eds. Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004.
Shaefer, Eric . "The Aethestics of B-Movies ." Film Reference. 2008. Advameg INC. 26 Nov. 2008.
"Wikimedia Foundation, Inc." Wikipedia. 22 Nov. 2008. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.,. 26 Nov. 2008.
General historical information gathered from Stephen Prince’s book (Specifically Chapters 6 and 7 on the development of filmmakers and production in the 1980’s) wikipedia, film reference and internet movie database.
Other films screened
Time Walker. Dir. Tom Kennedy. Perf. John Lavachielli. Byzantine Productions, 1982.
City Limits. Dir. Aaron Lipstadt. Perf. John Stockwell. Film Ventures International, 1985.
Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell. Dir. Alphonso Corona. Perf. John A. Nelson. Concorde-New Horizons, 1988.
Escape 2000. Dir. Enzo Castellani. Perf. Mark Gregory. Fulvia Film, 1983.
Final Justice. Dir. Greydon Clark. Perf. Joe Don Baker. Arista Films, 1985.
Future War. Dir. Anthony Doublin. Perf. Daniel Berhardt. Cine Excel, 1997.
Hobgoblins. Dir. Rick Sloane. Perf. Tom Bartlett. Rick Sloane Productions, 1988.
Space Mutiny . Dir. David Winters. Perf. Reb Brown. A.I.P Productions, 1988.
Soultaker. Dir, Michael Rissi. Perf. Joe Estevez. Pacific West Entertainment Group, 1990.
Time Chasers. Dir. David Giancola. Perf. Matthew Bruch. Edgewood Entertainment, 1994.
Time Runner. Dir. Michael Marzo. Perf. Mark Hamill. Excalibur Pictures, 1993)
Warrior of the Lost World. Dir. David Worth. Perf. Robert Ginty. Royal Film, 1983.
Werewolf. Dir. Tony Zarindast. Perf. Joe Estevez. Tozart Publishing, 1996.
Zombie Nightmare. Dir. Jack Bravman. Perf. John M. Thor. Gold-Gems Ltd, 1986.
In his article on editing from the book Film Technique Pudovkin defines the three basic overall structures that make a film; scene, sequence and scenario, and he then goes on to explain the specific editing techniques that are used to guide the spectator, to make them see and feel what the filmmaker wants them to. The prime issue with c-movies, however, is not their ability to piece together a scene in its basic form (alternating shots), but in the way their overall sequences try to build toward a climax yet rarely ever use any of the special editing techniques such as contrast or parallelism. Specifically what I will look at first is the buildup toward the supposed “moment of great tension” and then analyze the breakdown of suspense (or whatever emotion is trying to be evoked). The first film chosen for this discussion is the 1978 film Laserblast, directed by Michael Rae, it tells the story of a teenager named Billy who lives a cliché, 1970’s, southern California, slacker lifestyle. After discovering a giant laser gun that was left in the desert by aliens Billy begins to transform into a mindless killing machine, blasting everything in sight and getting revenge on all those who have been hassling him. The third act begins when Billy laser-blasts one of the town sheriffs who had questioned him the previous day about an incident. At this point in the usual Hollywood narrative we would most likely see simultaneous editing used; Billy’s girlfriend has discovered his transformation , the aliens are trying to recover their laser gun, and a government agent (as well as the police) are on his trail. So, the normal course of action would be to show these three or four threads of interests at the same time, cutting back and forth between each and inevitably coming to a head, resolving. But instead Laserblast inverts this formula by giving the most screen time to inconsequential events while totally glossing over the storytelling elements that build audience suspense.
Essentially there are three important character points of view happening towards the end of this movie; Billy, his girlfriend and the aliens, but for some reason the film decides to forgo the fleshing out of those parts in favor of letting Billy blow some more stuff up. Throughout the third act crisis portion we see Billy on a rampage, this cuts back very quickly to two confusing, slow paced scenes at the house of his girlfriend where the federal agent has arrived to inform her that Billy is infected by an alien disease (though he never actually says this, it’s inferred). Also interspersed is one brief scene which shows the aliens inspecting a car destroyed by Billy, one of only three scenes that show the aliens searching for him; one at the beginning, middle and final scene). As I mentioned, a typical film would focus the majority of the final act on the rapid development of these three parts and, through quick cuts between multiple events, the editing would reflect the urgency of all parties trying to prevent Billy from causing further damage. Instead the editing focuses on three scenes (each of which lasts at least two minutes) that have no effect whatsoever on the final outcome. The first is a two minute and thirty second scene of Chuck and Eddie (the comic relief) driving along the highway in their classic car. Nothing of consequence happens here, Eddie delivers some silly lines about the recent mysterious laser blast incidents, and just they drive along the highway for 2 ½ minutes while a tracking shot shows us how beautiful their car is. Finally they see Billy appear on the side of the road who then blows them up with the ray gun. This relatively slow scene right in the middle of the final act kills whatever pacing might have otherwise been achieved. There are two more examples like this in the third act alone; the second is a long scene where we see Billy wandering the desert and suddenly a small aircraft appears. One of the passengers wielding a rifle begins firing down at him, the plane circles around and they begin exchanging fire until Billy finally destroys the aircraft. One of the major problems of this scene is that it happens out of sequence. The part of the film in which we see the authorities escalate their search happened a good ten to fifteen minutes earlier when this scene finally occurs it’s ambiguous as to who these people in the airplane are, and why they are just now attacking Billy. Since the scene occurs late in the film, and in a strange sequence, all it does is serve to disrupt the pace. The third scene that the film pointlessly introduces happens a few minutes later when Billy hitches a ride from a hippie and then kills him. He is picked up by the stereotypical stoner character who offers him drugs and tries to make casual conversation. Billy then puts on the crystal necklace that causes him to turn into an mindless monster and blasts the hippie out the driver side door. Taking control of the vehicle he drives to the location of the final scene. What I think these faults illustrate is not an overall flaw in the writing (though it is bad) but in the final decision making regarding editing. These long scenes inserted into the film which break up the cohesiveness of the climax do not introduce new narrative, so the scenes do not disrupt the flow of the story arc, they simply drag it down and divert the viewer from their desire to feel tension and get to the resolution. By the time we get to the final confrontation between Billy, the aliens, his girlfriend and the agent, their motivation and urgency in the moment has become so convoluted and dragged out that audience is basically lost. It’s similar to a roller coaster that makes you get off once it reaches the top, then let’s you back on once it’s reached the bottom, and so the scenarists do not, “in even rhythm”, transfer the interest of the spectator through a series of events (13)
Another film that has the same basic problem of building scenes in a way that manipulates audience expectation is the 1985 sci-fi picture Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. But Instead of the lopsided, jumbled scene order and length like we saw in Laserblast, we have a series of scenes that are edited in a homogenous, sequential style that’s a common flaw in many c-movies. In what is supposed to be the climax of the film the main character; Fingal (played by the late Raul Julia), is trying to escape from the evil Novicorp corporation mainframe that his mind has been trapped in during a routine therapy session (like Total Recall and The Matrix). With the help of a Novicorp employee named Apollonia he tries to hack the program and escape before the chairman can get rid of him. Unlike Laserblast which at least attempts simultaneous storytelling in the finale, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank employs no special editing techniques and barely achieves anything resembling a finale. Each scene concludes the action it begins and then, in an almost episodic manner, moves on to the next important plot point. First is a scene in which Apollonia is wondering where Fingal’s misplaced body is so that it can be reconnected with his mind. “Time is running out” she says to the character (Toobie) who’s actually doing the searching. Ten or fifteen minutes later, in a completely anticlimactic fashion, Toobie carts in Fingal’s lost body. Never once does the film actually show him searching for it, so one of the important parts of the “beat the clock” suspense happens completely off-screen, defeating the purpose. Next is a scene in which the Novicorp chairman tries to convince Fingal to stop causing problems for the corporation, to end his attempts at overriding the company’s mainframe and just assimilate and conform like everyone else. In just one scene we see the confrontation, the bargain proposed by the Chairman, and then Fingal’s refusal. Once again we see an example where the tension is thwarted immediately. In a plot device that’s usually used to make the audience wonder if the main character will do the right thing, often interspersed among other scenes of simultaneous heightened action, this movie settles the question without dragging it the point of highest tension, leading the audience nowhere. Needless to say the film continues like this right until the end.
These are just a few of many examples where c-movies do not use basic simultaneity editing, for whatever reason, and as a result lose the impact that could have possibly been created. As a result 1980’s low budget films play more like video game where the main characters complete each stage as they rush to complete their objectives. In the action based films of this c-movie category it’s often just an all out chaotic onslaught and the tension is never escalated in the narrative between what the antagonist is trying to do (what he does during the brief moments he has the upper hand) and the movement of the protagonist to stop him. In many examples these films (especially sci-fi, dystopia, fantasy “epics” like Deathstalker III, Space Mutiny and Warrior from the Lost World) simply plateau at a frenzied pace without reinforcing the importance of the stakes through careful editing. It’s the blandest of sequential editing that merely shows every element happen in order from least to greatest threat. The directors and editors in a majority of these movies are unable to build a web of even the most basic complexity, and as a result of having such a shaky foundation the other elements within the films are forced to carry the interest level, which they would have a hard time doing even if the editing and cinematography were good.
The third issue connected to editing is seen in the 1985 creature film Boggy Creek II; written, produced and starring Charles B. Pierce. Like the previous movies discussed this also suffers from awkward pacing and poorly arranged shots and scenes but introduces another issue common to many c-movies; using the camera as a passive observer instead of simulating the character’s point of view for the audience. Boggy Creek II is a typical group survival movie about three college students and their professor who go to the swamps of southern Arkansas in search of the legendary Boggy Creek creature. The scene in question here is when the professor first encounters the creature face to face. The group is woken up in the middle night by the perimeter alarm in their camper, after observing the creature’s movement on his computer Doc takes his rifle out for closer investigation. This type of scene where the main group first encounters and is cornered by a threat is very common and usually follows the same formula from film to film; wait for the creature to make the first move, build suspense through isolation, curiosity and wonder, etc. Low budget pictures often try to emulate the established conventions of larger Hollywood genre films, and while the basic elements are present this particular scene is unable to create a sense of panic. First is problem of perspective, director Charles B. Pierce puts the camera, and thus the audience perspective, in the corner of the camper looking in on the action. What we see is the group standing huddled inside their camper watching the creature’s movement on the computer screen. We can see that they are frightened but that’s all, because the director never uses the camera to make us aware of an external threat. For example the characters might glance out the window, in fact Tim (one of the students) does briefly look outside but the camera never shows what he was looking for or at, violating Pudovkin’s rule about editing the scene which says that the shot of a character’s gaze should be followed by the object of that gaze (7) The buildup of tension continues to diminish with two external long-shots of the camper. They are in a clearing in the middle of the woods that acts as a camp site. The camera is placed fifty or so yards from the entrance of the camper. With that, the director eases tension because we can clearly see there is no monster nearby. If the camera acts as the spectator’s eye then this also makes us feel safe and insulated because we’re in the general space of the creature, and nothing has happened, so it must be ok. Next in the scene Doc decides to go out and confront the creature, but first he and Tim must turn on the floodlight. Once again we are not given the character’s point of view at all and so we end up with another medium-long shot of Doc and Tim exiting the camper, looking cautious, but obviously not in danger. And because we aren’t shown the dark forest surrounding them we can’t identify with their panic since the aim of the camera shelters us from direction of the threat.
Continuing with the same kind of point of view deficiencies I’d like to look at the opening sequence of 1990’s The Final Sacrifice, a film about a teenage boy named Troy who, with the help of a burly drifter named Zap Rousdower, tries to follow a map to a lost city that his deceased father had previously discovered. The film starts off with Troy in the basement of his house, researching his dead father’s life where he discovers the map to the lost city. The next day we see Troy alone in the kitchen of his house when a mysterious hooded cult shows up and demands the map. This begins a three and a half minute chase scene that I would like to focus on in detail since chases and pursuits are a common feature in the genre film (which the majority of c-films are). First of all, the major problem that exists in the c-movie chase scene is that shots are often fixed in multiple locations surrounding the action. Instead of a steady flow of action emanating from the protagonist’s evasion of the threat it’s more like watching the event happen from the perspective of security cameras randomly planted around the location. In one thirty second long shot the film shows Satoris (leader of the cult) standing in the kitchen calling out for Troy to hand over the map, “Troy! I know you can hear me and I know you have the map, I want it”. The next shot is from outside the house which shows Troy looking out the basement window as cult thugs run by.
Because the film does not show us any response from Troy the purpose of Satoris’ threat becomes irrelevant. Next is a shot of the thugs running down a flight of stairs that we assume leads to the basement where Troy is. But once again there is no reaction from Troy, we just see him scurry out the window, followed by four shots that lead the action toward a fixed point in the street, where Troy then gets on a bike and ride away from the camera. It may seem inconsequential but the shot mentioned immediately separates the viewer from the involvement they’re supposed to feel in the scene. The sequence of shots brings the action away from the house and then into the street where the camera becomes a useless bystander, the third point in a triangle between Troy riding away on a bicycle and the thugs in pursuit. Once again we arrive at two more unnecessary shots; the first is of Rousdower somewhere away from the action trying to get his truck to start. Second, we see a thug get into his car to chase after Troy. Forty-five seconds pass before we see Troy again, an eternity in chase sequence time, and by this point we have no idea where he is or if we should even be worried anymore. In most chase sequences the director relies mostly either on shots close to the perspective of the protagonist or shots from the perspective of bystanders. What happens in Final Sacrifice is that there are no bystanders whatsoever so we end up identifying only with the camera, who’s presence alone should rarely (if ever) act as a character within the film.
Hopefully through this brief discussion I’ve been able to demonstrate some of the major problems that exist in the cinema category called c-films, all of which stem from the central issue of passive editing. This failure by the director and editor to take control of their story and manipulate the flow of emotions in an evenhanded manner is what I believe to be the greatest fault in this specific era of the low budget movies. Of course budget issues are more complex and varied than what I addressed here, and so a lot of this has been based on an assumption that filmmakers can overcome this obstacle, and that there are enough examples to prove it. Does this mean that the people working on these films are the bottom of the barrel, talent-wise? Not necessarily, and I don’t believe there was any great decrease in talent from the old days of Hollywood b-movies to the c-movies discussed here. What I think did change was the assembly line process. Old b-movies still went through the studio filter and as a result their final product still had a semblance of quality. 1980’s c-movies rarely had the backing of a major studio and had to rely on their own enthusiasm and love of the established conventions they grew up watching. That is why I’m hesitant to simply equate budget issues to the shortcomings of these directors and editors, something that’s very difficult to prove. Based on Pudhovkin’s statements that “editing is one of the most significant instruments of effect possessed by the film technician” (7) and “an important instrument of impression” (12) my goal here was to simply point out what I saw as an extremely common thread that runs through this specific niche in movie history. What does this all mean? What caused these filmmakers to be so predictable and hands-off with their creations? I’m not sure, there’s too much history to sift through. What is interesting though, and something that could help further investigation is the relatively recent rise in the ease and availability of computer based editing software which has made it easier for even the poorest of filmmakers to get flashy results. Somewhere between the mid nineties and this decade the c-movie died, or at least evolved into a new set of problems for the low budget filmmaker, perhaps inherent in all visual media of poor quality. We’ll see.
Works Cited
Boggy Creek II: And the Legend Continues. Dir. Charles B. Pierce. Perf. Charles B. Pierce. Charles B. Pierce Pictures Inc., 1985.
The Final Sacrifice. Dir. Tjardus Greidanus. Perf. Christian Malcolm. Flying Dutchman Productions Ltd, 1990.
“The Internet Movie Database.” IMDB. 30 Nov. 2008
Laserblast. Dir. Michael Rae. Perf. Kim Milford. Selected Pictures, 1978.
Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. Dir. Douglas Williams. Perf. Raul Julia. RSL, 1983.
Prince, Stephen . A new pot of gold : Hollywood under the electronic rainbow, 1980-1989. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2000.
Pudovkin, Vsevolod. "Film Technique." Film Theory and Criticism. Eds. Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004.
Shaefer, Eric . "The Aethestics of B-Movies ." Film Reference. 2008. Advameg INC. 26 Nov. 2008
"Wikimedia Foundation, Inc." Wikipedia. 22 Nov. 2008. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.,. 26 Nov. 2008
General historical information gathered from Stephen Prince’s book (Specifically Chapters 6 and 7 on the development of filmmakers and production in the 1980’s) wikipedia, film reference and internet movie database.
Other films screened
Time Walker. Dir. Tom Kennedy. Perf. John Lavachielli. Byzantine Productions, 1982.
City Limits. Dir. Aaron Lipstadt. Perf. John Stockwell. Film Ventures International, 1985.
Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell. Dir. Alphonso Corona. Perf. John A. Nelson. Concorde-New Horizons, 1988.
Escape 2000. Dir. Enzo Castellani. Perf. Mark Gregory. Fulvia Film, 1983.
Final Justice. Dir. Greydon Clark. Perf. Joe Don Baker. Arista Films, 1985.
Future War. Dir. Anthony Doublin. Perf. Daniel Berhardt. Cine Excel, 1997.
Hobgoblins. Dir. Rick Sloane. Perf. Tom Bartlett. Rick Sloane Productions, 1988.
Space Mutiny . Dir. David Winters. Perf. Reb Brown. A.I.P Productions, 1988.
Soultaker. Dir, Michael Rissi. Perf. Joe Estevez. Pacific West Entertainment Group, 1990.
Time Chasers. Dir. David Giancola. Perf. Matthew Bruch. Edgewood Entertainment, 1994.
Time Runner. Dir. Michael Marzo. Perf. Mark Hamill. Excalibur Pictures, 1993)
Warrior of the Lost World. Dir. David Worth. Perf. Robert Ginty. Royal Film, 1983.
Werewolf. Dir. Tony Zarindast. Perf. Joe Estevez. Tozart Publishing, 1996.
Zombie Nightmare. Dir. Jack Bravman. Perf. John M. Thor. Gold-Gems Ltd, 1986.
12.04.2008
12.03.2008
Paging Mr. Herman!
So I've heard this rumor floating around for about five years now that Paul Rubens has been planning on doing two new Pee Wee Herman films; one a lighthearted romp and the other a black comedy. But only recently has the project been confirmed as "in production" on IMDB. Sure, that doesn't necessarily mean it's happening but it's a good indicator. This could very interesting, seeing what an aged Pee Wee has done with his life...hopefully he's still a recluse who talks to his furniture and plays with antique toys. And hopefully Mr. Rubens learned a lesson from his first two films and realizes that the beauty of Pee Wee is how the character works on multiple levels; he's kid friendly, he's silly, but at the same time he's not right in the head. He's about subtle and sarcastic humor that sometimes crosses the threshold of bizarre innuendo...it's about walking the razors edge between what's whimsical and what's psychotic...not a generic saturday morning carnival like Big Top Pee Wee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)