Movies

Sharks, Deer, and Risk

Here’s a question: Which animal poses the greater risk to the average person, a deer or a shark?

Most people’s initial reaction (mine included) to that question is to answer that the shark is the more dangerous animal. Statistically speaking, the average American is much more likely to be killed by deer (due to collisions with vehicles) than by a shark attack. Truly accurate statistics for deer collisions don’t exist, but estimates place the number of accidents in the hundreds of thousands. Millions of dollars worth of damage are caused by deer accidents, as are thousands of injuries and hundreds of deaths, every year.

Shark attacks, on the other hand, are much less frequent. Each year, approximately 50 to 100 shark attacks are reported. “World-wide, over the past decade, there have been an average of 8 shark attack fatalities per year.”

It seems clear that deer actually pose a greater risk to the average person than sharks. So why do people think the reverse is true? There are a number of reasons, among them the fact that deer don’t intentionally cause death and destruction (not that we know of anyway) and they are also usually harmed or killed in the process, while sharks directly attack their victims in a seemingly malicious manner (though I don’t believe sharks to be malicious either).

I’ve been reading Bruce Schneier’s book, Beyond Fear, recently. It’s excellent, and at one point he draws a distinction between what security professionals refer to as “threats” and “risks.”

A threat is a potential way an attacker can attack a system. Car burglary, car theft, and carjacking are all threats … When security professionals talk abour risk, they take into consideration both the likelihood of the threat and the seriousness of a successful attack. In the U.S., car theft is a more serious risk than carjacking because it is much more likely to occur.

Everyone makes risk assessments every day, but most everyone also has different tolerances for risk. It’s essentially a subjective decision, and it turns out that most of us rely on imperfect heuristics and inductive reasoning when it comes to these sorts of decisions (because it’s not like we have the statistics handy). Most of the time, these heuristics serve us well (and it’s a good thing too), but what this really ends up meaning is that when people make a risk assessment, they’re basing their decision on a perceived risk, not the actual risk.

Schneier includes a few interesting theories about why people’s perceptions get skewed, including this:

Modern mass media, specifically movies and TV news, has degraded our sense of natural risk. We learn about risks, or we think we are learning, not by directly experiencing the world around us and by seeing what happens to others, but increasingly by getting our view of things through the distorted lens of the media. Our experience is distilled for us, and it’s a skewed sample that plays havoc with our perceptions. Kids try stunts they’ve seen performed by professional stuntmen on TV, never recognizing the precautions the pros take. The five o’clock news doesn’t truly reflect the world we live in — only a very few small and special parts of it.

Slices of life with immediate visual impact get magnified; those with no visual component, or that can’t be immediately and viscerally comprehended, get downplayed. Rarities and anomalies, like terrorism, are endlessly discussed and debated, while common risks like heart disease, lung cancer, diabetes, and suicide are minimized.

When I first considered the Deer/Shark dilemma, my immediate thoughts turned to film. This may be a reflection on how much movies play a part in my life, but I suspect some others would also immediately think of Bambi, with it’s cuddly cute and innocent deer, and Jaws, with it’s maniacal great white shark. Indeed, Fritz Schranck once wrote about these “rats with antlers” (as some folks refer to deer) and how “Disney’s ability to make certain animals look just too cute to kill” has deterred many people from hunting and eating deer. When you look at the deer collision statistics, what you see is that what Disney has really done is to endanger us all!

Given the above, one might be tempted to pursue some form of censorship to keep the media from degrading our ability to determine risk. However, I would argue that this is wrong. Freedom of speech is ultimately a security measure, and if we’re to consider abridging that freedom, we must also seriously consider the risks of that action. We might be able to slightly improve our risk decisionmaking with censorship, but at what cost?

Schneier himself recently wrote about this subject on his blog. In response to an article which argues that suicide bombings in Iraq shouldn’t be reported (because it scares people and it serves the terrorists’ ends). It turns out, there are a lot of reasons why the media’s focus on horrific events in Iraq cause problems, but almost any way you slice it, it’s still wrong to censor the news:

It’s wrong because the danger of not reporting terrorist attacks is greater than the risk of continuing to report them. Freedom of the press is a security measure. The only tool we have to keep government honest is public disclosure. Once we start hiding pieces of reality from the public — either through legal censorship or self-imposed “restraint” — we end up with a government that acts based on secrets. We end up with some sort of system that decides what the public should or should not know.

Like all of security, this comes down to a basic tradeoff. As I’m fond of saying, human beings don’t so much solve problems as they do trade one set of problems for another (in the hopes that the new problems are preferable the old). Risk can be difficult to determine, and the media’s sensationalism doesn’t help, but censorship isn’t a realistic solution to that problem because it introduces problems of its own (and those new problems are worse than the one we’re trying to solve in the first place). Plus, both Jaws and Bambi really are great movies!

Waffles, because they are more evil.

The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster : This has been around a while, but Darth Vader’s blog is surprisingly good. You’d expect such a venture to go for cheap laughs (a la the very secret diaries of LOTR characters), but the Canadian author, Matthew Frederick Davis Hemming, really does a good job capturing the life of Vader, including some banal observations (it seems the circuitry controlling his left leg is on the fritz), occasionally throwing out poignant references to her or his son, and even showing a bit of introspection. Of course, there’s a lot of humor too, but he avoids the real groaners. For example, many a mention of Lando Calrissian, but not a single reference to Colt 45. That’s class, right there.

The blog seems to be covering the events immediately preceding and during The Empire Strikes Back. I think it works better if you read from the beginning. One of my favorite things about the blog is the elevation of Imperial Officers (like Admiral Ozzel, Captain Piet, General Veers, and the like) from bit parts to genuine supporting roles. Here’s a nice comment about Stormtroopers’ uniforms:

I must say that the stormtroopers’ new heavy weather gear makes them look very cool. Hats off to Palpatine. (Most people don’t know this but His Excellency designs all of our outerwear personally; he has a real flair for geometry, and a great sense of line.)

And Lord Vader also replies to some of the comments (the title of this post being in response to that age-old question: “Do you prefer waffles or pancakes?”). I’m not sure, but I think it’s possible some of the commenters (boba fett?) are also being written as part of the “story.” So if you’re a fan, check out the blog. With post titles like “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” “Calgon, Take Me Away,” and “I Am Surrounded By Idiots,” it’s not to be missed. [via Slashdot] And just for fun, here’s the note Vader sent to Ozzel’s kin after Ozzel’s untimely death:

Dear House of Ozzel,

I regret to inform you that your son has been killed in the line of duty.

He was an incompetent, yammering boob and he will be missed by none. I have allowed the men to pillage his personal belongings, which is why we have enclosed nothing but the sole remaining item: a torn advertisements page from a magazine of midget pornography. May it shock and disturb you, and may you think of it always when you remember your dearly departed son, the ninny.

Know also that his limitations as a sub-par military professional caused the deaths of many of the Emperor’s loyal soldiers, whose funeral expenses will appear on your next tax assessment.

Sincerely,

D. Vader

Heh

Time Travel in Donnie Darko

By popular request, here is a brief analysis of time travel used in the movie Donnie Darko. As I’ve mentioned before, Donnie Darko is an enigmatic film and I’m not sure it makes total sense. At a very high level everything seems to fit, but when you start to drill down into the details things become less clear.

In the commentary track of the Directors Cut DVD, writer/director Richard Kelly attempts to clarify some of the more mystifying aspects of the film, but he still leaves a lot of wiggle room and ambiguity. He describes the time travel in the film as being driven by a “comic book logic,” which should give you an idea of just how scientifically rigorous the subject is treated in the film (i.e. not very). Time travel is essentially a deus ex machina; it drives the story, but its internal mechanics are unimportant. So this analysis isn’t really intended to be very rigorous either, just a few thoughts and attempts to clarify or at least call out some of the more confusing concepts.

Before I really get into it, I suppose I should mention that what follows contains many SPOILERS, so read on at your own risk. Another thing that might be useful is to go over other less than rigorous time travel theories that have been presented in film and literature. This list isn’t meant to be complete, but these four theories will help in dissecting Donnie Darko. Again, many SPOILERS, especially in the case of lightning (as I’m assuming most people haven’t read it).

  • The Terminator: The main timeline is set, and traveling back in time cannot change anything. Indeed, traveling back in time to change the present will sometimes cause the very thing you’re trying to avoid, as happens in The Terminator (for obvious dramatic reasons). This is among the more plausible time travel theories, as it avoids those messy paradoxes. As such, it is one of the more popular theories, used in many other stories (like 12 Monkeys and, funnily enough, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure). A more pretentious name for this is Circular Causation, but I think The Terminator gets the point across…
  • Back to the Future: There are, I suppose, many ways to interpret time travel in this movie, but in this theory, there is still only one timeline, but you can change the past (and thus the present). In this theory, it’s possible to go back in time and kill your father (before he had you), and in such a case you will “disappear.” This is also a common theory, but the presence of paradox makes it less plausible. There are probably ways to explain this theory in terms of alternate universes (multiple timelines) as well…
  • The End of Eternity: In Isaac Asimov’s novel, a group of people known as Eternals develop time travel and decided to improve upon history by introducing carefully calculated changes in the timeline. There is more to it than that, but the concept of a society using time travel to manipulate history is an important concept that is relevant to DD.
  • Lightning: In Dean Koontz’s novel, time travel is only allowed in one direction: to the future. This takes care of the “kill your father” paradox rather neatly. You can, however, change the future. There is a catch though, which is probably more for dramatic effect, but which bears importance in the Donnie Darko discussion – essentially, fate doesn’t like it when you attempt to change something in the future: “Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be.” Not particularly scientific, but interesting and again, relevant to DD.

Donnie Darko sort of contains elements of all four, and since it includes the Back to the Future theory, it also sort of includes a paradox. To start, here is a diagram that will help visualize the time travel present in the film:

Donnie Darko Timeline

It’s not really to scale, but you get the point. Basically, the main timeline is displayed in the line segment AD (and it is a thicker line, as it is the timeline that is meant to be). BC (the black line) represents the tangent universe, a sort of alternate timeline, and this is where the majority of the film takes place. CB (the grey line) represents the time travel in the film. More details listed below:

  • AB – Point A is the start of the film, and the segment AB takes place before the tangent universe begins.
  • BC – Point B is the point at which an airplane engine lands on Donnie Darko’s house. It is also the point at which the tangent universe begins. It is unclear as to why or how the tangent universe begins, but in the main timeline Donnie is killed, while in the tangent universe, Donnie is sort of called out of his room by a mysterious force and thus is not killed by the engine. As the movie goes, shortly after point C, the entire universe (I assume this includes the main timeline as well) is destroyed. This implies that tangent universes must be resolved and cannot be allowed to continue. The film references a fictional book which describes the tangent universe thusly:

    If a Tangent Universe occurs, it will be highly unstable, sustaining itself for no longer than several weeks.

    Eventually it will collapse upon itself, forming a black hole within the Primary Universe capable of destroying all existence.

    This particular information is referenced in the Directors Cut, but not in the theatrical cut.

  • CB – This segment is represented by the grey line between points C and B. At point C, a jet engine falls off an aircraft and travels back in time, hitting Donnie’s house at point B. I assume that this event is what causes the tangent universe to form in the first place, which is paradoxical – how can the tangent universe exist when it is caused by itself?
  • BD – The period immediately following point B is shown in the film, but the rest of the segment is not. It is unclear whether or not the jet engine falls off the plane at point D (which parallels point C) or not. I get the impression that it doesn’t, but if it did, it might help resolve the paradox shown in CB.

Even after all this, there are still many, many, many questions to be answered. There are a few other things we need to establish first.

First, does Donnie have some sort of superpower? Donnie is obviously different from other people. The film doesn’t show any sort of explicit references to his powers, but it is sort of implied by his visits to a psychiatrist and his visions. I suppose the water trails he sees (which show the future path of a person, sometimes including himself) could be an expression of his abilities (as it allows him to see into the future). It’s clear that Donnie made a decision near the end of the movie that he was going to “fix” the universe and allow himself to be killed by the jet engine, but it’s not clear how that happens. Does Donnie actually cause that to happen, or is he just aware of it happening and going along for the ride? There is a sort of messianic theme in the movie, so I’m assuming that Donnie has some sort of power to send himself and/or the jet engine back in time and link the two universes together (and to collapse the tangent universe without destroying all of existence).

Richard Kelly, in explaining his take on the story, indicated that he wanted to communicate that there was some sort of technology at work in the tangent universe, manipulating everyone’s actions, and attempting to set things right. It is unclear what exactly this technology is, how it works, or who is using it, but his point is that someone is orchestrating events in the tangent universe so as to fix the universe (or to allow Donnie the opportunity to fix things). When he mentioned this concept, I immediately thought of Asimov’s Eternals, people who manipulated time and history for the betterment of mankind. In Donnie Darko, perhaps there exists a similar group of people who are tasked with ensuring that tangent universes are closed. Or perhaps, Donnie himself is subconsciously manipulating events to help fix things.

I also thought of Koontz’s Lighting and that infamous line “Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be.” In that scenario, there isn’t really a technology at work, just fate, perhaps augmented by Donnie’s supernatural abilities. Indeed, it could be some sort of combination of these three explanations: Donnie Darko has powers which are augmented by some sort of technology and fate.

What is Frank (the demonic looking bunny), and what role does he play in the story? This is very unclear. He may be a ghost, he may be the result of Donnie’s unconscious awareness of the future, or he may be a projection from the technological puppet-masters.

There are obviously a number of other explanations. What if the timeline actually follows a linear path (i.e. the linear presentation in the movie)? In that scenario, the timeline would go from A to B to C to D, except that B and D are essentially the same point in time (perhaps the main timeline stopped while the tangent universe worked itself out). So the time travel line would occur between CD.

And of course, this doesn’t really take into account all the themes of the film. I suppose I should also note that I’ve been analyzing the Directors Cut, which references a lot more of the fictional book, The Philosophy Of Time Travel by Roberta Sparrow (a character in the film). The Directors Cut gives more information on the guiding forces in the story, and it gives a more sci-fi bend than the theatrical cut, but both cuts are sufficiently ambiguous as to allow multiple interpretations, many of which end up being pretty silly when you drill down into the details, and some don’t make much sense, but in the end that doesn’t really matter all that much because you have to figure it out for yourself

Piecing it together for yourself

The Donnie Darko Directors Cut was recently released on DVD. I’d seen the enigmatic movie before, and though I enjoyed it and would have welcomed watching it again, it’s probably not something I normally would have purchased if it wasn’t for the fact that this new DVD has a commentary track with Richard Kelly (the film’s writer and director) and Kevin Smith (director of Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, etc… who had absolutely nothing to do with the making of Donnie Darko). Kevin Smith is a funny and knowledgeable guy, and the commentary tracks on most of his movies are great fun and fantastic examples of the oft-maligned DVD commentary genre. The involvement of Smith piqued my interest, so I picked it up. After watching pretty much the entire DVD (including the extras and the commentary), I’d say it was worth the purchase.

The director’s cut of the film has an additional 20 minutes which seem to clarify some of the more mystifying aspects of the film. When combined with the commentary track, where Kelly expounds on why he did what he did when making the film, you get a really good idea of where he’s coming from and what he was getting at. There is still wiggle room and ambiguity, of course, and Smith plays the perfect foil to Kelly’s sometimes extravagant overzealousness. Smith doesn’t hesitate to point out that he doesn’t like one theoretical interpretation or another, and it makes for a compelling dynamic.

One of the things that occurred to me is that Kelly’s helf-explainations (as I said, he still leaves it somewhat ambigious and open to interpretation) are somewhat silly. Perhaps silly is the wrong word to describe it, but that’s sort of how it feels. And it’s not just his interpretation either. Most of the stuff I come up with, when I lay it all out and try to make sense of it, feels very simplistic and sort of silly. To be sure, I’m not sure I can make perfect sense out of the story without leaving gaping holes in the plot (which is, I guess, the point).

The movie works because you have to do all the work to get there. You have to collect all the pieces of the puzzle and put it together for yourself, and doing so can be quite enjoyable (if a little maddening, as the pieces don’t seem to fit!) In a sense, Kelly got away with telling a time travel story that was not very reliant upon any sort of guiding principles (at least, not from the viewer’s perspective – it’s clear that Kelly himself had thought very deeply about what everything meant and how to portray it), whether they be from science or psychology or whatever. He was somehow able to design the movie to obscure the silliness of the time travel needed to tell the story (which doesn’t really center on time travel anyway).

Of course, this strategy doesn’t always work, and to be quite honest, I can’t pinpoint what it is about Donnie Darko that makes me enjoy it so much. A while ago I watched the cryptic, plodding pseudo-thriller Swimming Pool, and came away from the film feeling manipulated and disappointed. There was something similar going on with that film, but it didn’t work because I felt like the filmmakers were trying to trick me, especially with that ending. They basically tried to do something similar, but instead of obscuring the silliness, they just lied throughout the movie, then told the truth at the end. I was glad I watched it, but I had no desire to watch it again in the hopes of putting more pieces of the puzzle together (as I did with Donnie Darko).

In any case, Donnie Darko is ambitious, thought-provoking, and adventurous, if a little ambiguous, filmmaking at it’s best. The Director’s Cut DVD is worth watching, especially because of Kevin Smith’s presence on the commentary, but the theatrical cut is quite good as well.

The Return of Oscarblogging

The Academy Awards will be starting in about 20 minutes or so. Last year, I made some picks and did some live-blogging, and I figure I might as well make that a tradition. Since I’m short on time (as I was last year), here are my picks:

  • Best Picture: This seems to be between Million Dollar Baby and The Aviator. Baby seems to have all the momentum tonight, so I’ll go with that one, but I wouldn’t be surprised if The Aviator or Ray took home the statue.
  • Best Director: I’m going with Martin Scorsese even though Clint Eastwood’s film has all the buzz. I’m betting on the sympathy vote here, as Scorsese is probably the best director without an Oscar, and I think the academy will give him the nod. Eastwood still has a chance of course, and I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if he wins…
  • Best Actor: I’m going to say Jamie Foxx for his role in Ray, though there is an outside chance that Depp will get the nod (again, due to sympathy vote, but it’s a longshot). Eastwood also has a chance, but I still think it’ll fall to Foxx. The only thing going against Foxx is that he’s been nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category as well (thus splitting his votes between the two categories), but I don’t think there’s any doubt as to which performance takes the cake.
  • Best Actress: Hilary Swank, though I suppose Annette Bening could give her a run for her money. Catalina Sandino Moreno gave a stunning performance, but she’s a real longshot.
  • Best Supporting Actor: Morgan Freeman. He’s never won an oscar and his film has all the buzz tonight. On the other hand, Thomas Haden Church may get the nod because Sideways seems like a popular feature and the Academy might not want to let that film go away empty-handed.
  • Best Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett seems to have all the buzz for this category.
  • Best Original Screenplay: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Charlie Kaufman has gained a lot of popularity since Being John Malkovich, so it’s natural that he’ll get the nod here.
  • Best Adapted Screenplay: Again, Million Dollar Baby has all the momentum going into the night, so I’ll go with that.
  • Editing: I’m going to go out on a limb and say Collateral, but I think it could easily go to The Aviator.
  • Cinematography: Give it to the The Aviator.
  • Visual Effects: Spider Man 2, because it was the best of the three
  • Best Animated Film: The Incredibles, hands down.
  • Best Documentary: Not sure, but I’ll go with Super Size Me because it seems to have been quite popular (which, of course, means very little).

This year is much more difficult to predict than last year. Million Dollar Baby seems to be the big movie this year, but it isn’t quite the lock that Lord of the Rings: Return of the King was last year. That’s it for now, updates to follow…

The Oscars definitely aren’t as popular as they once were, but I still find them interesting to watch. Their decline in popularity can be partly attributed to “awards fatigue,” as there are now numerous awards shows around this time of year. James Berardinelli (hrm, my picks are remarkably similar to his) thinks it has to do with predictability:

Pretentiousness is a flaw, but the real problem is predictability. Surprises are not welcome at the Oscars. Like a wedding, everything must move according to plan. Unlike a wedding, however, this is not a personal event. It’s an entertainment show, and it has become boring. Not only is it easy to guess most of the winners (especially the important ones), but even the occasional unexpected victory produces little more than a shrug. Speeches are cookie-cutter thank-yous that typically fall afoul of the two-minute (or however long it is) rule. A good speech – one that is short, pithy, and clearly written – is a rarity. And, for any celebrity who thinks this is an opportunity to declare a political position, get over yourself! No one is watching the Oscars to hear what you think of the war in Iraq. If you’re not going to say something intelligent and witty, say, “Thank you, Daddy and Mommy. Thank you, Mr. Director. And thank you, Academy,” then get the hell off the stage.

It should certainly be interesting to see if Chris Rock can liven things up a little bit. There are some other changes the Academy is making this year in an effort to get past the stigma that Berardinelli mentions, but they seem more calculated and could fall flat. It looks like the show is starting so hopefully I’ll be live-blogging for at least a little while…

Update: Liveblogging moved to extended entry. Click below to read on…

Recent Viewings

I’ve seen quite a few movies lately, so I figured I’d give some capsule reviews for the better ones…

  • The Fog of War (2003): Brilliant documentary chronicles the life of former Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara. The film starts with two seemingly innocuous clips of McNamara. In the first, he prepares for a press conference, and in the second, he is talking to an interviewer in what a behind the scenes sort of moment moment. In both clips, you get the impression that you’re seeing someone who is intent on controlling what is being revealed. And with the placement of those clips, you know that Errol Morris, the director, is also intent of controlling what you see by employing numerous stylish devices (Morris has mastered the Reflexive documentary techniques often discussed on this blog). The closeups of old documents, numbers, typewriters, slowly revolving tape recorders, etc… are well used and call attention to Morris as a filmmaker. The film takes us through eleven lessons from McNamara’s life, but what is more striking is the questions it brings up. They aren’t easy questions, and though McNamara has had to answer them during the course of his life, you aren’t required to come to the same conclusions. McNamara is often blamed for the debacle of Vietnam, but Morris doesn’t demonize the man (as perhaps, a lesser director would), though you’re able to do so if you like… If you see the movie, keep an open mind. It’s not what you’d expect. Four Stars (****)
  • The Polar Express (2004): A sweet little Christmas movie, and an effective one at that. As James notes, this movie shares more than a few similarities with The Wizard of Oz, both thematically and stylistically.

    As I was watching The Polar Express, I was reminded of The Wizard of Oz. The similarities are, at times, remarkable. The characters in this film are on a journey to a mythical place – not Oz, but the North Pole. And they’re following train tracks, not the yellow brick road. But the four companions are all searching for something intangible. Our hero, an unnamed boy, is on a quest for faith. His companions are seeking confidence, courage, and humility. The entire story may be the figment of the main character’s imagination. But at least there’s no Wicked Witch or a surrogate. The Polar Express is a tale with plenty of heart and no traditional villain.

    It’s also a little creepy, in a way that many children’s movies are… Good stuff. Three stars (***)

  • El Mariachi (1992): Robert Rodriguez’s $7,000 action flick about a traveling mariachi getting mixed up in a drug war. The film isn’t quite as interesting as the trivia surrounding it, but it is a reasonably good flick, and has held up to the test of time reasonably well (considering it’s humble beginnings). Two and a half stars (**1/2)
  • 21 Grams (2003): The story is somewhat mundane, but the film is elevated by exceptional performances from the three main leads and a jumpy non-linear presentation. The film demands your attention because of the erratic progression of the story, but the style ends up betraying the ending of the film. It ends with a touch of hope, but it doesn’t quite feel like it. It’s not a fun movie to watch because of the subject matter (almost unbearable), but it is very well done, from every aspect of the production. Three stars (***)
  • City of God (2002): This film tells the story of two boys growing up in a rough neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro. The narrator becomes a photographer, and the other becomes a drug dealer. The director, Fernando Meirelles, employs a stunningly effective style to tell the story and he somehow manages to infuse enough of a sense of humor in the film that you don’t despair, despite the brutally violent nature of the story (which is driven by the drug dealer’s rise and fall). The film is very violent, yet there is almost no bloodshed. Ironically, the ending of this film is much more bleak than 21 Grams, but it doesn’t feel that way (it’s still bleak, but it’s not unbearable). Three and a half stars (*** 1/2)

A Reflexive Media

“To write or to speak is almost inevitably to lie a little. It is an attempt to clothe an intangible in a tangible form; to compress an immeasurable into a mold. And in the act of compression, how the Truth is mangled and torn!”

– Anne Murrow Lindbergh

There are many types of documentary films. The most common form of documentary is referred to as Direct Address (aka Voice of God). In such a documentary, the viewer is directly acknowledged, usually through narration and voice-overs. There is very little ambiguity and it is pretty obvious how you’re expected to interpret these types of films. Many television and news programs use this style, to varying degrees of success. Ken Burns’ infamous Civil War and Baseball series use this format eloquently, but most traditional propaganda films also fall into this category (a small caveat: most films are hybrids, rarely falling exclusively into one category). Such films give the illusion of being an invisible witness to certain events and are thus very persuasive and powerful.

The problem with Direct Address documentaries is that they grew out of a belief that Truth is knowable through objective facts. In a recent sermon he posted on the web, Donald Sensing spoke of the difference between facts and the Truth:

Truth and fact are not the same thing. We need only observe the presidential race to discern that. John Kerry and allies say that the results of America’s war against Iraq is mostly a failure while George Bush and allies say they are mostly success. Both sides have the same facts, but both arrive at a different “truth.”

People rarely fight over facts. What they argue about is what the facts mean, what is the Truth the facts indicate.

I’m not sure Sensing chose the best example here, but the concept itself is sound. Any documentary is biased in the Truth that it presents, even if the facts are undisputed. In a sense objectivity is impossible, which is why documentary scholar Bill Nichols admires films which seek to contextualize themselves, exposing their limitations and biases to the audience.

Reflexive Documentaries use many devices to acknowledge the filmmaker’s presence, perspective, and selectivity in constructing the film. It is thought that films like this are much more honest about their subjectivity, and thus provide a much greater service to the audience.

An excellent example of a Reflexive documentary is Errol Morris’ brilliant film, The Thin Blue Line. The film examines the “truth” around the murder of a Dallas policeman. The use of colored lighting throughout the film eventually correlates with who is innocent or guilty, and Morris is also quite manipulative through his use of editing – deconstructing and reconstructing the case to demonstrate just how problematic finding the truth can be. His use of framing calls attention to itself, daring the audience to question the intents of the filmmakers. The use of interviews in conjunction with editing is carefully structured to demonstrate the subjectivity of the film and its subjects. As you watch the movie, it becomes quite clear that Morris is toying with you, the viewer, and that he wants you to be critical of the “truth” he is presenting.

Ironically, a documentary becomes more objective when it acknowledges its own biases and agenda. In other words, a documentary becomes more objective when it admits its own subjectivity. There are many other forms of documentary not covered here (i.e. direct cinema/cinema verité, interview-based, performative, mock-documentaries, etc… most of which mesh together as they did in Morris’ Blue Line to form a hybrid).

In Bill Nichols’ seminal essay, Voice of Documentary (Can’t seem to find a version online), he says:

“Documentary filmmakers have a responsibility not to be objective. Objectivity is a concept borrowed from the natural sciences and from journalism, with little place in the social sciences or documentary film.”

I always found it funny that Nichols equates the natural sciences with journalism, as it seems to me that modern journalism is much more like a documentary than a natural science. As such, I think the lessons of Reflexive documentaries (and its counterparts) should apply to the realm of journalism.

The media emphatically does not acknowledge their biases. By bias, I don’t mean anything as short-sighted as liberal or conservative media bias, I mean structural bias of which political orientation is but a small part (that link contains an excellent essay on the nature of media bias, one that I find presents a more complete picture and is much more useful than the tired old ideological bias we always hear so much about*). Such subjectivity does exist in journalism, yet the media stubbornly persists in their firm belief that they are presenting the objective truth.

The recent CBS scandal, consisting of a story bolstered by what appear to be obviously forged documents, provides us with an immediate example. Terry Teachout makes this observation regarding how few prominent people are willing to admit that they are wrong:

I was thinking today about how so few public figures are willing to admit (for attribution, anyway) that they’ve done something wrong, no matter how minor. But I wasn’t thinking of politicians, or even of Dan Rather. A half-remembered quote had flashed unexpectedly through my mind, and thirty seconds’ worth of Web surfing produced this paragraph from an editorial in a magazine called World War II:

Soon after he had completed his epic 140-mile march with his staff from Wuntho, Burma, to safety in India, an unhappy Lieutenant General Joseph W. Stilwell was asked by a reporter to explain the performance of Allied armies in Burma and give his impressions of the recently concluded campaign. Never one to mince words, the peppery general responded: “I claim we took a hell of a beating. We got run out of Burma and it is as humiliating as hell. I think we ought to find out what caused it, and go back and retake it.”

Stilwell spoke those words sixty-two years ago. When was the last time that such candor was heard in like circumstances? What would happen today if similar words were spoken by some equally well-known person who’d stepped in it up to his eyebrows?

As he points out later in his post, I don’t think we’re going to be seeing such admissions any time soon. Again, CBS provides a good example. Rather than admit the possibility that they may be wrong, their response to the criticisms of their sources has been vague, dismissive, and entirely reliant on their reputation as a trustworthy staple of journalism. They have not yet comprehensively responded to any of the numerous questions about the documents; questions which range from “conflicting military terminology to different word-processing techniques”. It appears their strategy is to escape the kill zone by focusing on the “truth” of their story, that Bush’s service in the Air National Guard was less than satisfactory. They won’t admit that the documents are forgeries, and by focusing on the arguably important story, they seek to distract the issue away from their any discussion of their own wrongdoing – in effect claiming that the documents aren’t important because the story is “true” anyway.

Should they admit they were wrong? Of course they should, but they probably won’t. If they won’t, it will not be because they think the story is right, and not because they think the documents are genuine. They won’t admit wrongdoing and they won’t correct their methodologies or policies because to do so would be to acknowledge to the public that they are less than just an objective purveyor of truth.

Yet I would argue that they should do so, that it is their duty to do so just as it is the documentarian’s responsibility to acknowledge their limitations and agenda to their audience.

It is also interesting to note that weblogs contrast the media by doing just that. Glenn Reynolds notes that the internet is a low-trust medium, which paradoxically indicates that it is more trustworthy than the media (because blogs and the like acknowledge their bias and agenda, admit when they’re wrong, and correct their mistakes):

The Internet, on the other hand, is a low-trust environment. Ironically, that probably makes it more trustworthy.

That’s because, while arguments from authority are hard on the Internet, substantiating arguments is easy, thanks to the miracle of hyperlinks. And, where things aren’t linkable, you can post actual images. You can spell out your thinking, and you can back it up with lots of facts, which people then (thanks to Google, et al.) find it easy to check. And the links mean that you can do that without cluttering up your narrative too much, usually, something that’s impossible on TV and nearly so in a newspaper.

(This is actually a lot like the world lawyers live in — nobody trusts us enough to take our word for, well, much of anything, so we back things up with lots of footnotes, citations, and exhibits. Legal citation systems are even like a primitive form of hypertext, really, one that’s been around for six or eight hundred years. But I digress — except that this perhaps explains why so many lawyers take naturally to blogging).

You can also refine your arguments, updating — and even abandoning them — in realtime as new facts or arguments appear. It’s part of the deal.

This also means admitting when you’re wrong. And that’s another difference. When you’re a blogger, you present ideas and arguments, and see how they do. You have a reputation, and it matters, but the reputation is for playing it straight with the facts you present, not necessarily the conclusions you reach.

The mainstream media as we know it is on the decline. They will no longer be able to get by on their brand or their reputations alone. The collective intelligence of the internet, combined with the natural reflexiveness of its environment, has already provided a challenge to the underpinnings of journalism. On the internet, the dominance of the media is constantly challenged by individuals who question the “truth” presented to them in the media. I do not think that blogs have the power to eclipse the media, but their influence is unmistakable. The only question that remains is if the media will rise to the challenge. If the way CBS has reacted is any indication, then, sadly, we still have a long way to go.

* Yes, I do realize the irony of posting this just after I posted about liberal and conservative tendencies in online debating, and I hinted at that with my “Update” in that post.


Thanks to Jay Manifold for the excellent Structural Bias of Journalism link.

Letting Art Be Art

Sometimes a movie reviewer doesn’t really review the movie they saw. Instead they review the movie they wish they saw, and then berate the thing they saw because it wasn’t as good. There is a certain way to read reviews, and this is one of the things you need to keep in mind.

A good example is this review for The Village(Spoilers ahead):

The problem — and it’s a big one, folks — is that The Village should have never been approached as a horror/suspense movie in the first place. It is not a scary movie because it never should have been a scary movie. …

…the story was actually told backwards: this would have been a much more compelling movie had it begun with all of these broken people in the counselling center deciding they’d had enough of society’s violence, and then following them as they took steps to make the life in the village and raise their children to be fearful of the outside world, and ending with the creation of “the monsters.”

It’s one thing to criticize the movie for not being scary, or to complain that the surprise ending could be seen a mile a way, but it’s another thing to judge the movie according to a standard that doesn’t apply. Good filmmakers make the films they want to make. The Village isn’t meant to be anything but a creepy suspense film, with an unexpectedly engaging romance thrown into the picture (obviously you can read more into it than just that, but I think that was the main goal of the movie).

In my reviews of The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, I noted that M. Night Shyamalan has a frustrating modus operandi. He sets his story within a special world; a world with a lot of potential (like someone having the ability to see dead people, someone who is “unbreakable”, or a town being terrorized by monsters in the surrounding woods). But this potential is merely touched upon or used as a catalyst of events. As I say, frustrating, but what you end up with is generally engaging. Not especially brilliant or groundbreaking (as I have noted about all of Shyamalan’s films), but good nonetheless.

To be sure, the movie that the reviewer wants to see certainly sounds like an interesting one. It doesn’t really bother me that he even suggests that it would be a good story to tell, but it does bother me that he proclaims The Village is a bad movie because it’s not the movie he wanted to see. You can’t judge a movie by comparing it to something it’s not.

This often applies to comedies – their goal is generally to make the audience laugh, and nothing more. That may not be lofty or ambitious, but to claim that such movies are bad because they don’t achieve some sort of transcendant philosophical end doesn’t make much sense to me. A movie like Happy Gilmore isn’t trying to do anything other than make you laugh, and it should be viewed in that light. That doesn’t make it a great four-star movie, but it does make it worthwhile (if you’re in the mood for a laugh). In a recent issue of Entertainment Weekly, Stephen King wrote an article on summer movies:

…I’m from an unsophisticated school of thought that believes a movie (always a movie and never a film, even if it comes with subtitles) should be fun befor it’s anything else: an ice cream cone for the brain…

There’s nothing wrong with having fun, and I sneer at people who sneer at summer movies–in fact, I sneer at people who sneer at entertainment for entertainment’s sake. I feel sorry for them, too. Riding that high horse has got to be uncomfortable, especially with that stick up your butt.

There is something to be said for lofty and ambitious films (I’m not like King, I like to call them films too), especially when they hit their mark. Low brow movies like Happy Gilmore don’t deserve to be placed in the same critical category as classics like The Godfather or Citizen Kane, but there is some value in it for people who like to laugh.

My general philosophy when reviewing a movie is to try and figure out what it’s goal is, and then judge whether or not it achieved its goal. Sometimes a goal isn’t very sophisticated or admirable, and such things should play a role in the judgement, but that’s not all there is to it. I think it’s best to let art be art, and judge it on its own merits.

Recent Viewings

I’ve had the pleasure of viewing quite a few movies lately, so I figured I share my impressions. One note before I start, Comcast (my cable company) has this thing called “On Demand” in which you can “rent” movies right over the cable box. You can pause, rewind, etc… It’s not as feature rich as Tivo or a regular DVD and the browsing/program guide service of Comcast is attrocious, but it’s a fantastic idea and addictive to someone like myself. There’s a section for pay movies, but if you have any premium channels, you get a special section filled with movies for free. Anyways, let’s get started:

  • Collateral (2004): Another solid effort from director Michael Mann. It’s about a hit man named Vincent (Tom Cruise) who hires a cab (driven by Max, played by Jamie Foxx) to drive him around L.A. for 5 jobs. Naturally, things don’t go according to plan. Hijinks ensue. It has some interesting casting which has, yet again, paid off for Mann, as Cruise and Foxx have a good back and forth throughout the entire movie. The premise and story are somewhat conventional, but the film is elevated by excellent direction and performances all around. Three Stars (***)
  • Buffalo Soldiers (2001): Boy, was this released at the wrong time, or what? It’s a dark comedy about drugs, theft, sex, and other scheming by U.S. troops stationed in Germany towards the end of the Cold War and it was released a few days before 9/11. Talk about the wrong movie at the the wrong time. Oddly, I’m not sure we’re really supposed to like any of the characters in this movie. The main character is a crafty clerk named Ray Elwood (Joaquin Phoenix), who manages to hustle everything from cleaning supplies to missiles, not to mention his skills as a drug processer. Phoenix does his best and for the most part succeeds at making the audience root for him, if only because he’s the least unlikeable character in the lot. It’s an interesting film and it held my attention, even if it was a bit uneven. If you can deal with seeing our troops handled in this light (it is fiction, after all) check it out. Two and a half stars (**1/2)
  • Cowboy Bebop: The Movie (2001): This movie is based on an anime series of the same name. It follows a band of bounty hunters as they track down a terrorist who controls a deadly biological weapon. I have to admit, the name “Cowboy Bebop” always turned me off, but once I started watching I found myself really enjoying it. It’s a fun movie, filled with complex action sequences, fantastic music, and great animation. As animated scifi-action-comedies go, it was pretty good. I haven’t seen the series, but I’ve heard it’s better than the movie, so I’ll probably check it out at some point. Three Stars (***)
  • Swimming Pool(2003): This cryptic, plodding pseudo-thriller is about an English mystery writer (expertly played by Charlotte Rampling) who visits her publisher’s home in France in the hopes that a change of scenery will provide inspiration for her latest novel. Things seem to be going well, until her publisher’s sexpot daughter (and her spectactular boobs) shows up and breaks the writer’s concentration. An odd relationship builds between the two, leading to a pseudo-Hitchcockian plot point and a bewildering ending. Truth be told, not a whole lot happens in the film. It’s slowly paced and has some odd plot points that don’t quite ring true, but the ending shifts the perspective of the entire movie. You have to pay attention, and it makes for interesting viewing, though I could see how some would be very disappointed in the film. Two and a half stars (**1/2)
  • Men With Guns(1997): John Sayles’ impeccable film about a wealthy doctor in an unspecified Central American country who makes a trek through the country searching for doctors he had trained to help out Indian villages. The more he searches, the more he is shocked by what he finds. Outside of the Capital (where the doctor lives), poverty, violence, and lawlessness reign. It is quite an ambitious film, tackling a wide set of issues from diverse angles. This is thoughtful, if a little bleak, filmmaking. Three and a half stars (***1/2)

That’s it for now. Since these are little capsule reviews, I’ve no doubt forgotten some things, so I may add a bit here or there during the week…

A Village of Expectation

It’s funny how much your expectations influence how much you like or dislike a movie. I’m often disappointed by long awaited films, Star Wars: Episode I being the typical example. Decades of waiting and an unprecidented pre-release hype served only to elevate expectations for the film to unreachable heights. So when the time came, meesa not so impressed. I enjoyed the film and I don’t think it was that bad, but my expecations far outweighed the experience.

Conversely, when I go to watch a movie I think will stink, I’m often pleasantly surprised. Sometimes these movies are bad, but I thought they would be so much worse than they were that I ended up enjoying them. A recent example of this was I, Robot. As an avid Isaac Asimov fan, I was appalled by the previews for the film, which featured legions of apparently rebelling CGI robots, and naturally thought it would be stupifyingly bad as such events were antithetical to Asimov’s nuanced robot stories. Of course, I went to see it, and about halfway through, I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. It contains a few mentions to the three laws, positronics, and the name Susan Calvin is used for one of the main characters, but other than those minor details, the story doesn’t even begin to resemble anything out of Asimov, so I was able to disassociate the two and enjoy the film on its own merits. And it was enjoyable.

Of course, I became aware of this phenomenon a long time ago, and have always tried to learn as little as possible about movies before they come out as I can. I used to read up on all the movie news and look forward to tons of movies, but I found that going in with a clean slate is the best way to see a film. So I tend to shy away from reading reviews, though I will glance at the star rating of a few critics I know and respect. (Obviously it is not a perfectly clean slate, but you get the point.)

Earlier this week, I realized that M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village was being released, and made plans to see it. Shyamalan, the writer, director, and producer of such films as The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, and Signs, has become known for the surprise ending, where some fact is revealed which totally changes the perspective of everything that came before it. This is unfortunate, because the twists and turns of a story are less effective if we’re expecting them. What’s more, if we know it’s coming, we wrack our brains trying to figure out what the surprise will be, hypothesizing several different versions of the story in our head, one of which is bound to be accurate. I’ve never been that impressed with Shyamalan, but he has always produced solid films that were entertaining enough. There are often little absudities or plot holes, but never enough to completely drain my goodwill dry (though Signs came awfully close). I think he’ll mature into a better filmmaker as time goes on.

The Village has it’s share of twists and turns, but of course, we expect them and so they really don’t come as any surprise (and, to be honest, Shyamalan layed on the hints pretty thickly). Fortunately, knowing what is coming doesn’t completely destroy the film, as it would in some of his other films. I’ve tried to avoid spoilers by speaking in generalities, but if you haven’t seen the film, you might want to skip down to the next paragraph (I don’t think I ruined anything, but better safe than sorry). Shyamalan has always relied more on brooding atmosphere and building tension than on gratuitous action and gore, and The Village is no exception. Once again, he does resort to the use of “Boo!” moments, something that has always rubbed me the wrong way in his films, but I’m beginning to come around. He has become quite adept at employing that device, even if it is a cheap thrill. He must realize it, because at one point I think he deliberately eschews the “Boo!” moment in favor of a more meticulous and subtle approach. There are several instances of masterful staging in the film, which is part of why knowing the twists ahead of time doesn’t ruin the film.

Now I was looking forward to this film, but as I mentioned before, I’ve never been blown away by Shyamalan (with the possible exception of Unbreakable, which I still think is the best of his films) so I didn’t have tremendously high expectations. I expected a well done, but not brilliant, film. On Friday, I checked out Ebert’s rating and glanced at Rotten Tomatoes, both of which served to further deflate my expectations. By the time I saw the film, I was expecting a real dud and was pleasantly surprised to find another solid effort from Shyamalan. It’s not for everybody, and those who are expecting another bombshell ending will be disappointed, but that doesn’t matter much in my opinion. The movie is what it is, and I judge it on its own merits, not on inflated expectations of twist endings and shocking revelations.

Would I have enjoyed it as much if I had been expecting something more out of it? Probably not, and there’s the rub. Does it matter? That is a difficult question to answer. No matter how you slice it, what you expect of a film forces a point of reference. When you see the film, you judge it based on that. So now the question becomes, is it right to intentially force the point of reference low, so as to make sure you enjoy the movie? That too is a difficult question to answer. For my money, it is to some extent advisable to keep a check on high expectations, but I suppose you could get carried away with it. In any case, I enjoyed The Village and I look forward to Shyamalan’s next film, albeit with a wary sense of trepidation.