What We Desire

                What we do in life is not always what we wish it to be.  In many cases we do things because we feel obligated to do so, or that we are trapped by others into fulfilling some kind of expectation.  When it comes down to the eleventh hour we will often be forced to choose between what we want and what we are told to do.  Some people will live their lives according to what they want and may feel less torn, but many are controlled by society at large into roles they may not wish.  This is often the center of artistic direction in many mediums but especially in film.  Some of the films we watched this year looked at what it is people truly wish for and what they ultimately end up doing.  Four such films to touch on the subject are A Better Tomorrow, Yellow Earth, Farewell My Concubine, and Ikiru.    It is the struggle within the characters that makes these films so compelling on a deeper level that we can all feel.

                A Better Tomorrow is a gangster movie, so naturally the issues of family and loyalty are core to the story, but the heart of it is the struggle of the main players who wrestle both with themselves, and each other.  In the forefront of this conflict is Ho who when we meet him is a member of a counterfeiting operation run by a gang centered in Hong-Kong.  It is here that he works with the other members some of which are like family to him.  He does though have an actually family member in the form of a brother Kit, who is in fact working towards becoming a police officer.  When Ho is caught, during what he hopes is his last transaction for the Triad, he is sent to jail but still remains loyal and does not give away any names.  For all that he wants to go straight and cut ties with his old gang he holds on to a sense of obligation to them.  Although he might get reduced time he still avoids giving names even though he has no intention of going back to them. 

                Part of this dilemma is worsened when he finds that his record now makes him unwelcome in the general work force as well as in the home of his brother.   He faces similar issues with his partner in crime Mark, who has been crippled but still remains with the triad as a low ranking lackey.  He wants to be more with his brother but his past prevents it, he also wants to be with his friend but he does not want to continue with his past life.  Ultimately he feels obligated and indebted to Mark that he helps him with blackmailing his former gang.  He wants to make a clean break but because of the harassment from the gang he is unable to continue as such and is pulled back in because  he wants his own life and for him and his brother to reconcile.  In the end he sacrifices his own ambitions and desires for what he wants for his brother, so that at least he might have a chance at promotion and getting on with his career. 

                Another case of conflicting wants was in Yellow Earth, in which many of the characters in the story want something but all find that they end up with nothing.  It is the story of Comrade Gu, who comes to the rural village in order to allegedly collect folk songs, to repurpose them for use by the soldiers of the Communist revolution.  He comes wanting to spread the word of the Communist revolution and to endear their ideals to the villagers.  The family he stays with is a poor peasant and his two children, a daughter and a son.  Gu tells stories of the army and its ideals and the daughter Cuiqiao takes the tales of equality to heart.  Her father wants her to be married so that her brother will have the money necessary to find a good marriage himself.  So it comes that Cuiqiao wants to run from her marriage to an old man and asks Gu to take her to be a part of the revolutionary forces, to which Gu says he will come back for her but that she cannot come right now. 

                The characters here are pulled by what they want as an individual and what the group wants of them as a whole.  Gu does seem to legitimately want to take Cuiqiao with him, but he is forced to consider the will of his superiors.  Since they would not want to sour the relationship with the village by stealing a bride they would most likely deny the request.  Gu is forced to leave Cuiqiao behind to her fate even though he may have wanted to bring her along.  Cuiqiao does want to help her family and does show that she cares for her father and brother, but she has no desire to be wed and wishes for an escape.  Even the father is shown to want only what is best for his children, displaying his melancholy at having to sell off his daughter so that his son may have a chance.  He regrets having to split up his family so, but he goes with what he feels would be best for his children, even if it is not what he wishes for.  Everyone is forced into doing things that they do not want and even if they change their minds later it is already too late, Cuiqiao dies trying to leave and the father is left without a daughter, and Gu cannot come back and take her away.  In the end everyone is left wanting and regretting the decisions they made. 

                In Farewell My Concubine we are told the story of China during the first half of the 20^th century through the lives of Dieyi and Xiaolou to actors in Beijing Opera.  The tale is one that parallels the story of change and revolution in China to match that of the main characters.  The two find themselves as gaining fame and acclaim, most notable for their rendition of the play that is the name sake of the film.  As the story goes on though they find that what they each want from life is different with Xiaolou wanting to start a family of his own, while Dieyi wants him to remain true to the opera.  This tug of war continues throughout the movie, with the desires of the two facing the tests put forth by the turmoil in their own country. 

                Sometimes the choices made are an attempt to have the other side cross over to share their choice, or at least accept it.  Dieyi performs to free Xiaolou from the Japanese in the hopes that by doing so the wife will honor her promise and leave Xiaolou.  In another case Xiaolou confesses during the Cultural Revolution in order to remain free from being persecuted, even though he in the process sells out his friend and wife.  What they both want is difficult for each to obtain, mainly because they both have trouble compromising and it pulls at them both. 

                Finally we have Ikiru which rather than focusing on the conflicts and wants of many people, looks closely at what the main character wants.  Watanabe struggles with his own mortality and so he goes on a quest of sorts to find what he really wants from his life.  As he goes along he wrestles with what he wants and ends up latching on to others and what they want in hopes of finding a purpose.  He tries to be free and debauched with the author but finds it does not fulfill him.  He tries to again find a bit of fulfillment by clinging to his young co-worker but once again falls upon the realization that it is not enough to make him feel alive.  This is how he ends up finding out that he wants to do one last thing with his job, which has not been a source of pride before. 

                Since his job has never before been what he wanted to do he makes the switch and decides that he can do something more. Before all he did was sit around stamping papers and throwing people into the mess that is the Japanese bureaucratic system.  With his last effort he makes it his sole goal to clean up a community by replacing the still water with a park.  He runs up against the same bureaucracy that he has worked in for 30 years but by making it his last mission in life he muscles through.  His want and desire find purpose in his pet project giving him strength and the ability to press on.  His desire makes the vision a reality changing the world for the better in his last few months.  It tells of how with enough desire and drive we can do amazing things with our lives but are often inhibited, clinging to others and not pushing forward ourselves.

                It is the human condition to want things, to desire what is out of our reach.  It is here that directors look for core motivation, making films where the conflict is the desire.  Since everyone wants something they will naturally be forced into confrontation when these desires clash.  Often times we will be shown these conflicting wants and desires, juxtaposed with the cost of following them.  It is from these that we get our stories, tales that we can relate to and see because they are a part of who we are and we naturally wish to relate with these characters and feel for them.  Their drive and motivations are what keep these films in motion and give life to each of the roles within, for they are the force that moves all people forward whether we dwell upon it or not. 

The Angle of Approach

The Angle of Approach

            A good deal of what we experience during a movie is expressed through its visual nature and in the way in which various scenes are introduced.  When we enter into a scene, we start from a particular point with the camera settling into a position to set up the scene that we are supposed to take in.  So much of what we feel is controlled by the set up and the subsequent framing of the shot.  It is from these opening moments that we get our sense of place and a proper framing for the characters and their positioning.

            Late Spring is a particularly image-centered film, with many of the moods and ideas being shown through the individual shots rather than an overuse of dialogue.  The tale itself is simple, so the overarching tale is not the goal of the film but rather the journey.  This can best be shown by how we are introduced to the new sets.  There is a kind of formula that Ozu follows when it comes to his setups, though it is not religiously followed by any means.  He generally starts off with an image that provides a scenic look at the local setting but is generally not focused on by the rest of the filming.  

 Taking these two shots he goes for an introduction at a longer angle than we generally get within the actual story. It is then followed up by the framing of the scene where he goes and chooses a specific point, from which it views the characters from a point where we can see them framed by the local scenery.  

 We are then finally brought to the mid-ranged shot keeping the camera within range of the characters where we generally get the most of the conversations.

 

            It generally makes for a good set up into the scene and draws the eye away from the surroundings and more onto the characters.  The focus is drawn to the people in the scene rather than the actual locale, while still allowing for the background to set the tone.  During these scene changes, we also get a shift in musical score with the music starting up or slowing down and stopping for the eventual entrance by the characters.  The central focus on the movement of the actors as they move into position draws the attention to the location which they now occupy.  From here, there is generally very little movement and the focus is held at its location.  It generally seems to me that Ozu wanted to draw our gaze to these characters who, for the most part, are unremarkable in their story but are visually being put in the center of our focus.  He slowly draws the attention of the audience towards the target characters and makes them into the central facet instead of characters populating a scene. 

The drawing of the gaze is central not even just in terms of characters but also in the way the film is shot overall, such as with innocuous moments in the movie, like with the train.  He still wants to give the audience direction and to keep an active appearance during the film so that we can draw more pleasure from the intermittent times, such as with the train. 

Here, it is as simple as having a converging view drawing the audience towards the train’s destination and giving a point of focus that would cause us to draw our eyes along the length of these shots to better absorb the visuals.  At times it is possible for the gaze to become to centrally fixated, especially in slower moving films, but the angle of approach changes from scene to scene and deliberately keeps the eyes engaged on an otherwise slower-paced film.

          In Kurosawa's film, Ikiru, he uses more deliberate film techniques to confer the sense of tempo to the scenes he shows.  He makes greater use of classic transitions, such as the fading in and out of scenes as well as wiping the scenes when transitioning.  The use of these may be liberal and seem at first to be relatively normal but in fact they are set to match with the specific characters which we are following.   First off, the protagonist of the story, Watanabe, is introduced using this fade in and fade out where we first see an image of his stomach to view his cancer and then fades into him at his desk.

It is generally the case that when we view Watanabe alone or as the central focus, without the supporting cast, he comes into focus in this manner.  It follows with a general portrayal we can see in the normal course of the film where Watanabe will be cast in shadow or light and then be shown in the opposing lighting.

The usage of the lighting within the movie is fairly overt with many cases of this lighting transition populating the movie, but it is in the transitions that we are given a mood continued in the editing and not just in the filming. 

            It contrasts quite a bit when we are shown other characters in the film or when Watanabe himself is accompanied by others such as the author or his co-worker.  

In these cases we generally are given wipes across the screen instead of cuts or the fade outs.  These provide a different energy and tone to what the audience watches, and instead of a somber and slow pace, things take on a much more frantic tone.  It matches with the overall narrative of how Watanabe is clinging to particular characters in a frantic attempt to feel alive.  The duality of these scene introductions is what allows us to feel motion even when the characters are not moving particularly fast, and increases the tempo in everyday situations.  Just as the slow opening with the fade in on Watanabe gives the audience a sedate opening to a bureaucratic office, we are also treated then to the scene were we follow the mothers on their quest to fix their neighborhood.  Just as with the author where they move at a steady pace and yet feel frantic and fast, it is because of the way that the scene transition makes it seem as though they are running pell-mell through the night when they are moving at a reasonable pace.  The focus on Watanabe is centered on his realization of how his life is fading away, yet coming into focus. This is fairly well expressed by the transitions and as an overall motif of the film expressed in multiple layers of the direction.  

            Good directors do not waste the opportunity to use scene changes as a greater part of film narrative by incorporating them into the larger picture.  The reasons and usage differ between these two yet they do not waste the opportunity using their changes in location as a means of telling the story.  In the case of Ozu, he definitely favors the artistic approach to scene changes, as he mainly uses cuts to change cameras, yet he does a lot with the focus change and directing it using the new scenery.  Kurosawa is much more focused on using the scene changes as a pace setter and to further the artistic themes that he has already set up, so that it furthers the film’s tale.  He uses scene changes as more than just a transition between one scene and the next. He will use cuts where he needs to change focus, but when we follow specific characters he uses the transitions as a part of their story.  Within and without the actual filming, they both use these transitions not as wasted time, but as a central part of the story which is being woven, and to better give audiences a feel for the direction in which they are having their gaze drawn.