Trinity of Voiceover

As I re-watched Goodfellas for the umpteenth time on Wednesday, I tried to find things in it that I had never noticed before. Like a scene earlier on that featured Sammy Jackson, when they panned through the bar, or what Tommy is actually saying half the time - rather than just having his high pitched rambles as background noise to what is going on. One thing, however, that I found quite intriguing was the use of voice over.

Clearly, Ray Liotta was the main character, so his voice overs are not uncommon, and help us better understand the underworld, the characters, and what is happening on the screen. His wife is also important, and her voice overs are always about how life with Liotta is, and how, despite him being a gangster and abusive husband, she still loves him. The third person, however, that does voice overs is Tommy -- very early in the movie.

It inclusion of this mystifies me, as he is, without a doubt, the worst character in the film. Rather, he's flat wicked, with no redeeming qualities as far as we can tell. So why would Scorsese decide to use him as one of three voice overs in the film? The number three is frequently used, trinity, rule of three, etc -- because we have an affinity for three things that go together, but are distinctly different. If we look at what the characters represent, morally, and make an assumption that the inclusion of Tommy was intentional, perhaps we can find something else out that occurs in Goodfellas.

Despite his drawbacks, Ray Liotta is the voice of fact, plain and simple. He merely narrates, stating events that occur and predicting the outcomes of events. His wife is the voice of reason, explaining why she acts how she does and justifying his actions. Tommy is the voice of chaos, disorder and ruin, a plague to even those in the mafia. Order, reason, and chaos -- three things that belong together but are distinctly different. Maybe Scorsese did this intentionally, or after twenty plus viewings I am beginning to see things, but to me, its something worth investigating. Or at least considering.

Prospectus

The email part of the internet seems to be down...

I will be writing about one of the movies listed and how it related to
the times in which it was released, or how they are interesting in
some way (revival of genre, technique, etc) You can pick for me or I
will asap (likely by Friday).
- the Gangs of New York
- children of men
- conan the barbarian
- Indiana jones (ark)
- tropic thunder
- lord of war
- v for vendetta
- shoot em up
- usual suspects
- serenity

Bonnie and Clyde v. Public Enemies

First of all, I'd like to resend my earlier remarks about Bonnie and Clyde. When I said that I found the character development lacking and the reasons that they do things to be lacking, I wasn't slamming the movie. I was relating it to Public Enemies, which I also enjoyed, but was driven to take note of those major aspects of film that are very thin in these two movies. This leads me to the question, why would two projects with astounding direction, acting and basis for plot be so shoddy? I think that the lack of character development and the fact that "they act stupid" might be intentional, so then the question becomes -- "why?"

We know that Bonnie and Clyde did not follow the accuracy of events that happened, and that the goal was not a documentary. It was used more as a vessel for two characters that seem to embody change. The 60's were a time when young people and those with different lifestyles from the norm were screaming for change and this movie was a sort of avatar for those ideas. They were criminals, and they were anti-heroes, but we always found ourselves rooting for them in the end, why? Because they were relate-able. The major messages of the film were not to listen to authority (parents, law) and to do what makes you happy; and as those simple goals, the film is really quite noble. If it had been full of skilled robbers, and people with reasoning behind why they are the way they are, it would have been a better narrative, yes. But, it would have had less impact as a film calling attention to change.

They stay at a farm house, and when the ex owners arrive, Clyde passes his side arm over to them, encouraging them to shoot the sign. It's as if we are those Oakies, and Bonnie and Clyde are saying that "hey, you don't have to stand for this anymore. If a couple of crazy kids like us can rob banks and not get caught for half a decade, there's no reason you can't turn your life around and do what you want to -- and damn those that get in your way."

At least, that's what I thought.

Really? No, really?

Alright, I suppose that with every film I watch from an earlier era, there are some things that have to be taken with a grain of salt. For example, when we watched "Sullivan's Travels" earlier this year, I had to remind myself that certain things were funny then that aren't now -- like an African American's face covered in vanilla -- hilarious in the fifties, fairly racist by todays standards. And it was with that mentality that I went into "A Place in the Sun" with. Unfortunately, I am sad to say, my understanding can only go so far before I begin to judge something exponentially harsher and harsher.
Distraught that you are pregnant? Ok, I can get that, people react the same way today. Being abandoned by your baby daddy? Ok, I see where you're coming from - that frankly sucks, and that guy is a jerk - no question. Breaking out into tears and throwing yourself against a door because a business is closed on a national holiday? No, I'm not going to get behind that one. Seriously, what the hell girl? I suppose there are considerations to be made because it is a melodrama and the "Great American Tragedy," but come on, this movie is perpetually over the top.
There is a disgusting amount of foreshadowing. "I don't like bathing suits, I can't swim." "Oh no, we're so far out the man is going to think we've drowned." "A woman drowned in this very lake, the man was never seen again." etc etc -- I think we get the point: he is going to drown her. The movie reads as if the audience was either to simple to understand the concept of framing a plot and foreshadowing (where you have something at the start come back near the end), or it was deliberately done this way to please a target audience.
Who that audience is, I have no idea -- I assure you, it wasn't me.

I love you, too (and always will)

Honestly, I've seen Double Indemnity at least a dozen times, and it just gets better every time I watch it. Mouthing along as the movie goes -- "they'll hang ya' baby, hang ya' as fast as ten dimes will buy ya' a dollar -- and I don't want ya' to hang,"-- still wrapped up in suspense when she honks on the horn, heart beating faster as the car fails to start, even feeling that same tingle in my spine when he collapses at the end of the movie; Double Indemnity is a noir classic that seems to never loose its punctuality.

I think it's maybe the cinematic techniques, the brilliant contrast between beginning and end, between night and day. The lines from the blinds like bars in a prison, the shadows in Walter's apartment that he slinks into before opening the door, and Phylis is there. And the dialogue, "I think you're rotten! -- I think you're swell, as long as I'm not your husband," Walter's voice overs, "I tried to get it out of my mind but I couldn't, I was still thinking about her, about that anklet." Or the acting, like the slight changes in Stanwyck's face when Neff murders her husband or all of Eddy G's mannerisms, the cigars, the diction, the little man. And his immortal lines and speeches, yammering on about insurance and murder with such style and speed as only he could deliver.

Or maybe it's all of these things, the combination of the acting, writing, directing, setting and thousands of other considerations that go into producing a film that make Double Indemnity the legend it is today. I noticed in one of the books that was passed around the class, a correspondence replying to someone that believed the film would flop, because you can't have any suspense after you've committed the murder. The letter is written about five years later, 1949 I believe, and begins by matter-of-factly pointing out that the person was wrong, because not only was the movie a success, it set the conventions for how most noir films would be framed and written. And I think that is why this movie is such a personal favorite, why it's well known, with positive reviews. And why, for me, I will always love Double Indemnity.

The Words of Wrath

The Words of Wrath

While watching the movie yesterday, I found it interesting the amount of times literacy was referenced. Either directly, like whenever someone says that they can’t read, or indirectly, when Grandpa dies and the note they write to place with the body is poorly written and has numerous grammatical errors. In addition to the power of literacy, where those that are educated hold all the cards and those who are not are victims throughout the film – the use of writing and signs in general was interesting to me.

For example, when Tommy is fixing the note for Grandpa’s grave, the only thing he changes is “funeral” to “funerals” – implying that more deaths are on the way. The paper they all received that enticed them out west were all lies, the one that kicked them off their homeland was devious, but legal, and the multitude of “Stop:___” signs throughout the film began to wear on me. “50 cents a night, camp,” etc, because people were taking advantage of their fellow man in a time of depression.

But these points aside, it seemed to me that the enemy to the Joad family throughout the movie was the written word. It forced them off their land, led them out west, took their money, and was in the hands of the men that gave them jobs paying 5 cents a bucket – whenever it is present it is never positive. And this movie had positive moments, Ford was just certain not to include writing in any of the upbeat scenes, so you get the feel, or at least I did, that it is somewhat to blame for their predicament.

Gold Diggers of 1933 like a Shakespearian play?

**apologies for the tardiness, I’m quite sick that the moment and slept all of today, so I didn’t get to post until just now**

Gold Diggers of 1933 like a Shakespearian play?

As any decently versed reader of Shakespeare can tell you, his plays follow a fairly standardized plot pattern in that they either end with a mass wedding or a mass killing. Macbeth and Hamlet end with the main cast killing themselves off, whereas A Midsummernight’s Dream and Twelfth Night end with a mass wedding, where two or more couples get married. Throughout his (or her) comedies, Shakespeare’s couples were always at odds with one another. One couple is meant to be, the others convolute their relationship, they drift apart then reconcile, and a few others decide to jump on the band wagon and tie the knot

When boiled down, Gold Diggers of 1933 consists of three major couples: Polly and the younger Bradford, Carol and the older Bradford, and the humorous Trixie and Peabody pairing; and it follows the Shakespearian model flawlessly. Polly and the young Bradford are fated to be, and their love is unwavering throughout the film. Trixie and Peabody are a marriage of necessity – she “needs” money, he “needs” a younger woman – but they get married regardless. Then finally, there is Carol, who had been masquerading as Polly (ala Viola in Twelfth Night), who seems to have fallen for the older Bradford – who loves her back, “whatever your name is!”

These absurd pairings, aside from the focal love duo, are identical to Shakespeare’s plays that were wildly popular at the time and still draw fairly good crowds. As Gold Diggers of 1933, shows us, a good thing never goes out of style.