'Ride' is Definitely a Journey

This week I watched the 2015 film Ride, not knowing anything about the film prior, as each movie discussed in these blogs are simply random picks of the day. The acting and storyline itself really impressed me. The plot was very light and relatable: Angelo, a talented young writer who has pressuring disputes with his single workaholic mother Jackie, moves across the country to pursue a life of surf over school…without his mother’s permission. He challenges his mother to live the lifestyle he is in California, saying she wouldn’t be able to last. The two struggle through their new location and their relationships. Though, there were twists, such as there had been a loss of a second child contributing to the mother’s governing lifestyle. What doesn’t catch me about the movie, though, is the camera shots, and style as a narrative.

In an article titled “Editing For Subtext: Altering the Meaning of the Narrative”, author Kenneth Dancyger says it best: “Editing is all about telling the story with images and sounds, just as screenwriting is telling the story with words, and directing is telling the story with performance and camera. Editing can have straightforward goals or less straightforward goals.” This film has straightforward goals.

The overall movie takes a very classic narrative style with the basics of filmmaking coming into play. Many of the shots are over the shoulder and framed to follow the 180-degree rule in film; there are many alternating shots as there are many conversations between our characters. With this, naturally the rule of thirds is often times present. Much of the film is shot this way, very straightforward and simple. Unlike our last film discussed (Absence), the style is effortless to the audience’s focus in on the characters actions and relationships. It’s as simple as that…for the most part.

An example of a basic over the shoulder shot used throughout the film. 

There are also many establishing shots of the beach, where most of this movie is focused on. Jackie is challenged by her son, who she follows to California from New York after finding out he dropped out of NYU (which he psychically shows us is 85 steps away from home), that she wouldn’t be able to do the one thing he enjoys – surf. She thinks the whole laid back California lifestyle is debauchery and pointless, as he’s throwing away his great talent of writing and storytelling. Throughout the film, we find Jackie facing a battle with a surfboard, but even so, many of those shots are not very “out-there”. They are simple shots of her standing in the rule of thirds and the ocean behind her. To me, that’s a typical shot – it’s pleasing to the eye and passively frank.

What I am going discuss are the few frames that I found quite interesting and the genuine focus of my blog – the unique scenes where the camera angle is furthering the plot and contributing to the overall narrative. Many of the examples I am going to show are reinforcing the character’s relationships.

For example, in the pictured scene below, which is the first “face-to-face” interaction we see between Jackie and Angelo, isn’t actually face-to-face. Jackie is looking at her son who is standing behind her, through the mirror, glancing between him and her laptop. She could have easily turned around to face him, but instead they argued facing the same direction. This easily symbolizes their relationship. She doesn’t really take the time to really face her son and bond with him to fully understand him on a non-writer level, because as we later learn, the loss of her second son was due to her being busy with work. She engulfs herself in her work as a mask, so it takes away from her personal relationships. This is another instance, because they are talking about Angelo’s book and a better ending, this is a business talk rather than a parental talk, so the facing each other would be too forward. If she keeps it writer related then she can do no harm as a parent, as she is paying him the time of bettering him in the way of a writer. All in all, we see at first glance there is a disconnect between the two, and it is Jackie who is at the root of it.

This may distantly connect to a quote from Dancyger’s article again, but it is a connection no less: “We may not know the character we are watching, but we sense the danger he has placed himself in. The lack of reactions from other humans or animate beings emphasize his aloneness.” (Dancyger). While he is analyzing the film There Will Be Blood, this can relate back to Ride in the sense that at that mirror moment, we don’t know our character Jackie, or Angelo. But we sense the situation she has placed herself in in her life. We sense the distance and tension between the two characters as they argue for the book’s sake and Angelo’s sake, as he mentions that in his writing he feels like he’s shit. After that is said, Jackie finally turns around in her seat to authentically face him. She firmly yet calmly tells him that he is the least shitty person she knows. She then turns around to face the laptop again. He then asks why he feels so shitty. She congratulates him (a business disconnect, again) on being a writer. The point is, we don’t know Jackie be we know her in this moment to be stern yet caring for her only son. In this case, the presence of Angelo’s reaction towards her emphasize and validates the traits we see in her. Though, we are unsure whether she is always like this or is this is just attitude towards her son.

Another great shot that echoes the same distance between the two is the one below. Here Jackie has followed Angelo to California, where he then wants nothing to do with her because of the suffocation. Jackie, her driver, and a man turned love interest helping her learn to surf stalkingly sit at the table next to her son, pretending to coincidentally run into him. They exchange few words outside of ‘hello’ and remain facing with their backs toward each other. Their bodies and surroundings are symmetrical and parallel but their relationship remains off-putting and unbalanced. In this scene, it’s as if Angelo and Jackie are just two strangers. It’s heartbreaking, really.

Dancyger’s article mostly focuses on editing and camera cuts in postproduction as a means of subtext and underlying meaning (in war and action movies). While that is not my main focus throughout this blog, I noticed something from postproduction. In terms of color, this film is very aesthetically pleasing, at least to me. The alternations in hue and color are what I picture to be a summer in California to look like, as sepia tones takes over any hint of sky and sand throughout. This alteration undoubtedly adds to the summer vibe, which is a subtext. As the families relationship unfolds and the two main characters eventually come to a good place in the resolution, the muted earth tones and brighter colors bring a certain sense of nostalgia or longing in my gut, as I would love to give up all responsibility to move to the West coast to pursue a life in unattached creative writing and surf, as Angelo has. Every last detail, even down to the movies filter in color and saturation, is on purpose and adds to the emotions the audience is to feel. For me, that is the feeling of longing.

There are a couple of other sequences that contribute to the narration.

One is Jackie on the board and facing a wave, after many previous comically failed attempts. The camera in the water acts as a wave, as we crash into the determined mother. We (the wave) are the barrier between her son and her's understanding, but Jackie faces us head on, as the wave engulfs her. She continues to fight for her son. Though, after that first almost successful try, she lies in the sand, parallel to the ocean, defeated. Though, in between these two cuts, we study Jackie underwater as she freely wails her body as the tide controls her. She is not in control and we realize maybe that is what she needs. Maybe that is the beauty of surfing for Angelo; when successful on the board, he is in control of himself and his life.

This movie is simple/classic in terms of few unique shot variations, though the simplicity works. We are to focus on the mother-son relationship through actions and internal struggles of our characters, and basic rules of film are what fit most. When there are shot variations and styled frames, such as the two arguing through the mirror, it contributes to the disconnection and lack of understanding in their relationship. We root for both Jackie and Angelo, as a mother only wants whats best for her son (college, a career, goals, love), as she has already lost one son and her husband because of that loss.

Through Kenneth Dancyger's article “Editing For Subtext: Altering the Meaning of the Narrative” we understand the presence of subtext through it being hidden in shot variations. I hope my audience is becoming aware of this, as I know I am learning a lot.

Works Cited:

Dancyger, Kenneth. "Editing For Subtext: Altering The Meaning Of The Narrative."Cineaste 34.2 (2009): 38-42.

'Absence'...A Horror Through Camerawork

Welcome to my first post on this blog, where I hope you are incredibly pumped for both you and I to learn more about cinematography as a narrative all on its own. Let’s dive in, shall we?

I recently watched the 2013 horror film Absence. Let me just say, every slightly ‘scary’ or chilling scene is basically what the trailer is jam packed with… which isn’t hard considering only the last twenty minutes is when the whole plot started to pick up. I’ve linked it below so you can see what I mean, make your own interpretations/expectations of the movie.

The film is documentary style, meaning the camera is very shaky and the shots are very quick. We as the audience of this movie often times find ourselves looking at the ground or the video is cut at a certain point, which all contributes to the narrative and progression of the plot itself.

In the second scene of the film, just twenty seconds in, we feel like an outsider. The doctor is speaking to two of our main characters, Liz (the patient) and her husband Rick, and Liz’s brother Evan, who opens the film talking directly to us (the camera), records the hospital conversation. Their voices are hushed and we are placed in the corner of the room, as if we are not welcome and are not supposed to hear.

This feeling is even more evident as the doctor then speaks to two cops in the hallway. We simply cannot hear the conversation and we know we are in a way spying when the doctor and cops looks back at us as we and we hide ourselves behind a wall. This distant shot is comparable to one in The Wolf of Wall Street where protagonist Jordan Belfort hits his wife Naomi, though we only see it through a far doorway at the end of a hallway, which blocks our view. David Bordwell in his article “Understanding Film Narrative: The Trailer” uses that exact scene to display shot style as part of the narrative. “This choice lessens the impact of Jordan’s aggression. It gives us important information about the story action,” (Bordwell).

This hallway scene, like the Wolf scene, makes us feel unwelcome and like distant bystanders; we feel we should be doing or saying something, but its impossible. We are backseat drivers (like Evan literally is at one point - he's in the back seat recording and making us feel like the third wheel.) In this case, because we can’t hear what the doctor and cops are discussing, it lessens our overall knowledge of what our exact conflict is, though it provides us with important information about the story… the cops are involved, so we know that the disappearance of the fetus has fingers pointed towards Liz.

We in many, almost all, cases are Evan.

It’s incredibly important to point out who our eyes are. Throughout most of the film, we are Evan. Evan is recording this whole story for his college film class project, so we rely on his recordings, which are in many cases his eyes, as we are seeing things at the same time and in the unplanned way he is. We are living this unusual story with him. This filmmaking decision to have us follow in Evan’s footsteps is proof of style as a narrative. If this film was not documentary style, then our perspectives and interpretations would be completely different. We wouldn't be following the group of three on their journey, so therefore, we wouldn't feel as involved. We would simply be third person on-lookers. The camera/documentary-style gives an overall creepy, vulnerable feeling since we are being taken with the characters step by step.

There are often many times when we part from him, though. This is when someone talks directly to the camera for the purpose his class documentary. Whether it is Liz or Evan who are sitting down and talking to the camera, we take on a different view/role. We are not Evan, we are simply the audience to his film; we are an audience within an audience.

Evan interviews his older sister Liz as he thinks her story will make an interesting one. She was seven months pregnant when one morning, there was no more baby. In the beginning of the film we get prelude text about Cesarean fetus kidnappings accounting for 20% of newborn kidnappings, but ultimately we learn nothing else throughout the whole film. I find Liz’s interview shots incredibly telling. They feel almost like a therapy session, where the camera (in both senses) is very still and focused, and we merely focus on her emotions as she tells the story. The rule of thirds are present, validating that Evan is in fact a film student and that these scenes are set up to be information driven and organized (much of the film is constant unfocused movement). This is a time to focus on Liz and her past, since this is the only time we receive the backstory and, as this is ultimately why the three of them find themselves in a mini getaway vacation; as a distraction from the loss of the child. Liz is passive; she’s very quiet and the logical one. She falls to the background a lot, but we can’t forget this story is about her.

Though, I don’t find this “horror” film about the husband, wife, and brother in law, as much as I see that is focused a lot on Liz and Evan as siblings. They often times reminisce on their childhoods and the loss of both their parents when they were young teenagers, resulting in Liz having to raise Evan. Even then, I’m not sure what the overall message is supposed to be in Absence, but all I can think of is the absence of their parents making them closer.

While viewing I noticed multiple scenes where Liz and Evan were in a shot together. That's not the strange part. Each time they were both facing Rick, who was either not in the frame at all or there was just the presence of his arm. While this may be a fluke, this leads me to believe Rick is not as important as the other two, he's just a buffer to add some drama, as it’s worth mentioning that Rick and Evan have consistent tension throughout the whole film, with constant bickering and insults brushed off too quickly.

The fact that the siblings look to something/someone off screen that could have easily been included is unsettling to our very curious, ready to be frightened minds. Though, again, maybe we are not supposed to see since we may not be welcome. Personally, this still makes me weary of Rick. Why is he not shown as an equal?

Overall, we don’t leave this movie with really any resolution. Without giving away the ending and the only scary details, this movie falls flat to give an interesting story, like what our narrator Evan was trying to do. Instead I think our entertainment is in the camerawork. The story is slow, which some can expect from such a Blair Witch style film, though the shot styles and rugged shaky takes is what gives us the horror factor. This cinematic work is not scary in the typical sense, however, the uneasiness and unknowingness of what comes next in our homemade shots keeps us unsettled. Like Bordwell mentioned in his article, “by shaping our knowledge”, in this case our lack thereof, until the eerie interview scenes, “the narration throttles the film’s emotional appeal up or down” (Bordwell).

Works Cited:

Bordwell, David. "Understanding Film Narrative: The Trailer." Observations on Film Art. 12 Jan. 2014. Web. 15 Mar. 2016.