Alas, Blogger has failed...again...and again...

In the same vein as my previous post "A Letter to the Equipment", I am now complaining about Blogger's video upload feature. I have spent a total of four hours trying to present the rough-cut teaser of "The Perfect Man"--yet, to no avail.

To view our teaser and comment (please do!), visit my Facebook profile. The video is the first one listed, "'The Perfect Man' - teaser rough cut", directly on my profile. If you have any problems accessing it, please reply to this post and let me know how to contact you. Thank you for watching!

Seeing Eyes

I have not found ample leisure to finish the TV contemplations I first began, but I have had the pleasure of seeing excellent entertainment.

CSI: Las Vegas --especially the episode "The Accused is Entitled"--exemplifies the strengths of dramatic television series: eyes.


Eyes have been described as windows to the soul; and when we want to connect the most deeply with another human being, we "look them in the eyes." The characters of CSI advance the plot, and this episode case-in-point displays the success and demand of TV drama. The narrative arch hangs on these plot points: each CSI's testimony. The CSI's stand-in for TV drama in general. It is on trial by the audience itself: Is this series worth sitting through hundreds of ads? Can these characters reflect my life and my imagination? Should I care?

As each character takes the stand, our suspicions are confirmed: these are real people. A gambling addict, former exotic dancer, a forgetful officer, and a man struggling to hold onto his hearing--these people live their lives and transcend the absolutist strictures of our democratic legal system. Humanity surpasses its institutions.

The final plot point, however, rebuilds the supporting structure of the series: faith in our judicial system. The captain's testimony and evidence break the case and put the obviously guilty defendant behind bars. The characters negotiate the plot through the obstacles of commercials; they give heart to the otherwise heartless repetition of consumer supply-and-demand, and in the end, even the themes and messages find voice, too.

Falling Down

I have been well-trained enough in the systematic, emotionless analytical process of academics to at least separate myself from the deep affectations of films. However, with Downfall my line of defense was demolished. This film showcases its brilliant power in the same manner that a subtle piano sets the mood for a despairing night alone in some forsaken pub of the movies--you could not point to its direct effects, but its swift, precise execution nails you to the floor of your insides.

As an aspiring filmmaker, I could not imagine a more difficult subject: Hitler. He was a deity to his followers, a monstrosity to the world...and a kind employer to his secretary. Seeing his final days through her access to the Fuhur-bunker revels a Hitler no one wants to see: a man. Through careful, informed, intentional film making, director Oliver Hirschbiegel retrieves Adolf Hitler from the recesses of "extreme data" and "inhuman-ness" to the realm of reality, a depraved human being responsible--like all other human beings--for how he treats his fellow men. His psychotic breaks, his mad delusions, they do not put him on a pedestal of shame discrete from human guilt. Hirschbiegel had the discernment to realize that showing Hitler's mania would not excuse what he did--it would emphasize his culpability.

He kept a subjective objectivity by careful framing. When he showed Hitler's hands shaking with anxiety, the camera lingered in close-up just long enough before swinging back through the doorway and encompassing the entire room. Hitler's face would fill the screen as he presided over military meetings, indicating his weight and authority; but the generals standing next to him created a claustrophobic, constraining space within the frame. Early in the film, as reference before, Hitler's entrances and exits were accompanied by sweeping camera tracking; by his final days, every time we see him, he is caged: standing in a door frame or around a tight corner in his labyrinth of hallways. As Roger Ebert confessed, we being to feel the kind of "sympathy we feel for a rabid dog [that we know] must be destroyed."

The most distinguishing characteristic of this film was its duel accusation and sympathy. Even in his crippled state, Hitler obviously held sway over people. But as people, they should have exercised their discernment and wisdom in acknowledging the truth. Time and again through snippets of drunken conversation, whispered or shouted challenges, and sweeps of hands over foreheads, their innate repulsion struggled for a voice. But each time it is silenced, they dip their hands in Hitler's blood-drenched Pilate's bowl. The most poignant, unhinging example of this phenomenon was Frau Goebbels: after painstakingly, swiftly murdering her six children, she sinks to the floor outside the room--then exits the room and sits down to a game of solitaire: absolutely alone. This contrasts most painfully with her embarrassingly moving hysterics at Hitler's decision to commit suicide.

Bringing the film to completion, Frauline Traudl Junge testifies on camera: there is no excuse--even being young.

Reflection on Television

The medium of TV strikes me as the doggerels of old--it is useful water-cooler conversation endowed with powers of satire, irony, and pathos but without the supporting foundation of print literacy, it would be fruitless flummery. Think about all the poems and songs and tidbits of verse thrown around ye village wells, rivers, saloons, markets, etc.--they built and destroyed political dynasties!

But the information provided by newspapers, magazines, books, and other forms of print media supports this new doggerel, the TV visual image. Words lasso abstract ideas and make them communicable; visual images expand those ideas exponentially, into the recesses that language alone almost cannot reach...

[to be continued--class dismissed]

Letter to the Equipment

Technology.
Frustrating.
Screamingly frustrating.

Tonight I intended to upload a rough cut of today's footage. However, you shall have to remain in suspense as to the glamorous results of our hard day's labor...

So we used the lovely Sony DCR-SR82. Decent audio, but no manual focus. Bluetooth mic, but no XLR connections. Great lens protection, but no white balance. Cool touch-screen and playback remote, but an un-importable video codec. I felt like I was trying to create a film on a wealthy aunt's home video camera.