Friday, September 25, 2015

Bill Nichols’ Modes of Documentary or: How to Tell the Truth With an Inherently Manipulative Artform

Documentaries strive for honesty. They try to tell us the truth about this crazy world we live in. Throughout film history filmmakers have changed their views on what an authentic documentary looks like. Bill Nichols articulated each of these changes into six subgenres referred to as documentary modes. Each of these modes make us as documentarians, and filmmakers in general, think about how to be truthful through a medium dependent on design and editing.

In the 1920’s the first mode was born: poetic documentary. Walter Ruttmann’s Berlin: Symphony of a Great City is a feature length film exclusively consisting of random shots of Berlin. When it was shown in movie houses a pianist was employed to accompany the film. This film intended to accurately portray the city.

Since then, many other films have been made using the same tactic: attempting to tell the truth by capturing the spirit of a place in a beautiful, poetic way. Just a few years ago a poetic doc called Samsara came out. It was filmed over five years in twenty-five countries, all on 70mm film. It shows the beauty of the world, exalting the everyday through it’s thought provoking cinematography.  It communicates truths about the world by drawing your attention to the wonder all around you.

While it could be argued that poetic documentaries focus most on style, expository documentaries which came from filmmakers like renowned documentarian John Grierson, certainly concentrate their efforts on content. They often contain narration full of rhetoric and persuasion. They seek to expose truth. In the 2013 film Pandora’s Promise the filmmakers attempt to convince the audience to accept the benefits of using nuclear power. This documentary tries to be genuine by presenting facts about an issue that exists in the world.

Next came the observational mode in the 1960’s. These documentarians believed that they would be the most honest by just showing the world without commentary. They took a very fly-on-the-wall approach to filmmaking. The most notable observational doc from the 60’s is the Maysles brothers’ Salesman. The feature length film follows bible salesmen and shows them selling bibles. It gives the audience an accurate idea of what it was like to be those salesmen during this time, and that is how the Maysles brothers sought for honesty.

Even the most integritous observational documentaries still only show certain things, use editing, and change people’s behavior by the presence of the camera, so people decided that to really be sincere they had to make films that recognized that the filmmakers and camera were there, participating. In participatory documentaries the collaboration between the filmmaker and the other subjects of the film is seen on screen.

My Date With Drew chronicles one average man’s quest to get a date with America’s sweetheart, Drew Barrymore. Brian Herzlinger directs the film about himself as he tries to employ the theory of six degrees of separation in order to land a date with Drew Barrymore. The audience never forgets that they are watching a film. It strives for authenticity by not trying to deceive you about the filmmaking tricks it uses.

Some more cynical filmmakers were still not satisfied with participatory documentaries. They thought this mode was on the right track, but took it one step further. Reflexive documentaries question the entire documentary genre. They make you ask if anything can be honest, and cause you to question everything presented to you. They sometimes showcase the problems the filmmaker had in getting the film made, and make the viewer much more aware of the filmmaking process.

The final documentary mode is still developing; it doesn’t yet have a very clear definition. It is called the performative mode, and it basically says that as long as you are communicating the real emotions of a person or situation, anything goes. You can set up shots, use unnatural lighting, edit in strange ways, or even script out your entire film. In many ways, people who make these films believe that they making the audience feel the true emotions of the subject is the most honest thing of all.

These modes provide us with a very helpful way to categorize documentaries. Giving labels to things helps us to understand them better and to think more critically about them by seeing how they relate to other things. Documentary filmmakers strive for veracity and openness. These modes help us to recognize that there are many paths to the truth, and that each path is true and valid.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Dean Duncan Doubled: Is Lucy Tsak Tsak Valuable?

Originally Written September 11, 2015


Dean  Duncan, a professor at BYU, teaches three main purposes of documentaries:

  • Give voice to the voiceless.
  • Exalt the everyday. 
  • Transcendence through tribulation. 

In our documentary analysis class we added 3 more. We call our list “Dean Duncan Doubled.”

  • Entertain to earn.
  • Preach a point.
  • Broaden your brain.


There is a documentary called Lucy Tsak Tsak. It features a 2nd assistant camera named Lucy. The whole two minute movie shows her clapping a slate over and over again. The end of the film tells us that over her thirty year career she worked on over 56 feature films, 3 documentaries, two series, with 7200 slate claps for each film. That’s almost half a million claps, and over 382 hours of her on film. However, she never appeared in a movie until this doc.

Honestly, you could ask if this even counts as a documentary. There could be opinions either way. However, assuming that it is a documentary, is it valuable? Does it serve a purpose, specifically one or more of our six purposes?

Everyone watches movies. They are an integral part of our culture. Most people don’t really understand all of the effort that goes into making those movies. They never think about all of the people involved; they probably don’t even know what an AC does. Lucy Tsak Tsak sheds light on the work of a woman who spent her entire career adding to a body of work we all watch, and her contribution is really marginalized by most people.
I think that this film definitely gives voice to the voiceless. It draws attention to something often overlooked and ignored.

On a film set, there are few things that are more ordinary than clapping the slate. It happens before every single take of every single scene in the film. So even though most people don’t see a slate clapping in their regular lives, for filmmakers there’s nothing more mundane. I think that this documentary beautifully glorifies the task; it absolutely delights in slate clapping. After seeing this film, one may be more inclined to notice and appreciate the work of a 2nd AC, so I think it totally exalts the everyday.

Lucy Tsak Tsak may broaden some people’s brains. You may find yourself thinking about the diligent work of the 2nd AC and other members of the crew every time you watch a film. You may think about filmmaking, or career paths in a new way, which I believe is expanding your mind.
I don’t think that this film really fulfills the other three purposes. It doesn’t depict someone overcoming any sort of struggle, so there’s no transcendence through tribulation. It didn’t really make much money, and some people probably think it’s boring, so I don’t think it entertains to earn. It also isn’t trying to educate or persuade you about anything, so it doesn’t preach a point.

I don’t think a documentary has to fulfill every one of our purposes to be considered important. Lucy Tsak Tsak fulfills half of the functions we listed, which is pretty good. The one that makes it most worthwhile, in my opinion, is probably exalting the everyday. Maybe clapping the slate seems like the most boring part of making a movie, and something only done for function. However a collection of slate claps all edited together really becomes art. It is beautiful, maybe even profound, and definitely valuable.

Bernie and my Future Career

Originally written September 4, 2015


There are two things that I have had mini panic attacks about every day this week. One is the thought of what I’m going to do after I graduate. The other is whether or not such-and-such a film is a documentary or not.

This is my senior year of high school. I’m turning 18 in a couple months, which means I will never again have a half birthday without a diploma. Every day there’s a new reason that pops into my mind why I can’t graduate, or move out, or go to college, or have a career. I start hyperventilating and yelling at my mom. Stupid things like, “I CAN NEVER HAVE ROOMMATES BECAUSE THEY WILL TRY TO BRUSH THEIR TEETH AND TALK TO ME AT THE SAME TIME AND I DON’T THINK I CAN EMOTIONALLY HANDLE THAT KIND OF DISGUSTING BEHAVIOR ON TOP OF THE STRESS OF MOVING AWAY FROM MY BELOVED FAMILY!!!” or else,  “How can I be expected to pick a major if I can’t even pick a favorite color? Obviously I can’t go to college,” or just the standard, “Mom, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.”

During this tumultuous period in my life, for some reason Will and Josh thought it would be a good idea to pose the question “What is a documentary?” to my class, and essentially explode my brain.
Honestly, think about it. Think about the question. It’s freaking hard to answer. You think that you know what a documentary is, at least I did. I was all like, “Man, I have been in two different documentary classes all term long. I’ve got this.” But then Josh and Will showed us a whole bunch of movies that sort of hover around the edge of the documentary genre, and asked us to decide whether we thought they belonged or not.

The one that really ruined my life was Richard Linklater’s 2011 film Bernie. Although it stars the famous actors Jack Black, Matthew McConaughey, and Shirley MacLaine in the lead roles, the film also showcases interviews with real townspeople who were around when the events depicted in the film were going down. They give their real opinions on the things that happened, which are honestly depicted in non-interview scenes.

So, is Bernie a documentary? Well, no, but it has a lot of similarities. It adds to the conversation of the expanding definition of the genre. I think this movie is the bomb, and this documentary-fiction blend is a killer storytelling technique.

I would LOVE to make a movie like this. It gives you a lot of the good of documentaries: a true story, interviews with real humans who were involved, and the social impact thing. At the same time you get a lot of the convenient and beautiful parts of a traditional fiction or narrative film. You can show scenes you wouldn’t have been able to capture on camera in a true documentary. You can get different shots of the same thing, which makes your film more beautiful and easier to watch.

Okay, so I am obviously still terrified to grow up. I don’t know exactly what school I’ll go to next year, or what I’ll study there. I don’t know the exact form my career will take. I also don’t have a precise, simple answer to the question “What is a documentary?” What I do know is that this week I have felt more inspired than ever to try making documentaries. This is such an exciting time to get in on the documentary filmmaking scene because the genre is changing so swiftly. Even though I am anxious and confused about my future, I am also really stoked to continue watching and making radical documentaries.

Ethics in Documentary

Originally written August 28, 2015


The thing that makes a documentary different from a fiction film is that it’s story exists without the film. There are real world people, living real world lives, and somebody makes a movie about them. They live. They interact with everything around them, and the documentary only serves to share their stories. Documentaries educate us. They make us see the world from another person’s perspective. Our capacity for empathy increases with every documentary we watch. Documentaries are important, and the stories they tell are important.

Most documentarians feel a certain amount of obligation to the truth. They all want to be authentic, but there are varying opinions about the amount of honesty you have to use in your life and filmmaking in order to tell true stories in an ethical way.

In an effort to tell true, hard stories, some filmmakers use dishonesty as a tool to get the most truth into their stories. In Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing’s 2006 documentary Jesus Camp,
the filmmakers spent months earning the the trust of their subjects, particularly Becky Fischer, a pentecostal Evangelical children’s minister. She let them into her ministry and her kid’s Bible summer camp. After the film was released with a very political spin the camp was forced to shut down. The film had negative, real-world consequences for the subjects, unanticipated by Fischer and her fellow believers.

Grady and Ewing told a story that is true. It exists, and some might argue that for that reason the world deserves to know. They may see their integrity as intact because they are increasing the amount of truth in the world. It’s a kind of global integrity. Stories that are true have the right to be told, and the means justify the ends. You can use any tactics, as dishonest as they may be, as long as your film is true and beautiful.

Other filmmakers place more of an emphasis on personal integrity in their filmmaking. Many documentarians in particular believe that everyone on camera should know exactly what the message of the film is- and how they will be portrayed- prior to filming. Legal release forms are often signed by everyone before they are put in front of the camera. This is an ethical way to represent people, but even more importantly it is a way to preserve your personal sense of being an ethical person, which will lead to making better moral choices in your life and art.

I think that the jury’s still out about what specific things you must do, or must not do, in order to consider yourself an ethical documentarian/filmmaker. I think that there are many grey areas to be navigated and personal calls to be made when creating a film about real people. In the end the most important thing is that you rigorously follow your own moral compass and create the best art you can.




Except that none of that is true!!!

Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing said:
When we heard that that Pastor Haggard has described us as having an “agenda” we were alarmed. Of course, there are plenty of filmmakers that do make films with a political or personal agenda, but our conscience is clear that we aren’t among them. We filmed with an open-mind and with a beginner’s eye (neither of us are Evangelicals) that allowed the story to emerge in a natural way.
http://www.jesuscampthemovie.com/haggard_response.html
IDA: How did your vision for the film change over the course of the pre-production, production and post-production processes?
Heidi Ewing: At one point we realized that there was no tension in the film. The film was entirely from the perspective of the kids and parents in the movie, so it felt somewhat unsatisfying. We needed another voice, so we "cast" a Christian radio host named Mike Papantonio, who disagrees with the education of these children and believes that the Christian right is trampling on the separation of church and state. He added the conflict that was needed.
Rachel Grady: Initially, we did not know we were making a film that was intertwined with politics until we started filming. All the conversations with each other and our main character, Becky Fischer, focused on the particular theology of this group of born-again Christians, and until we were in the field we hadn't known how intertwined the politics and their religious beliefs really were. The movie took a different course after that.

http://www.documentary.org/feature/meet-docuweek-filmmakers-heidi-ewing-and-rachel-grady-jesus-camp
Grady, the co-director of “Jesus Camp,” said the negative reaction to the film “has weighed a little heavy on our hearts.”
“Not that we had anything to do with it, but [the campground] wasn’t getting vandalized before the film and it was after it, and we need to acknowledge that,” Grady said.
http://www.seattletimes.com/nation-world/pastor-will-shut-down-controversial-kids-camp/

Fischer decided, she said, “there was enough good in it, I wanted it out, even with its flaws.” Her goal in allowing the documentary to be filmed was to reach the Christian community, not the non-Christian audience, she said.
“It was for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear what was going on in children’s ministry,” she said.
http://jesuscampmystory.com/the-book/

"The controversy in the film was a double-edged sword - it's really not who we are, but I'll take it in order to get the message out," she decided. "This was the vehicle that was given to us," she said.
As it turned out, Fischer said, it was the controversy that expanded the KIMI ministry explosively around the world.
Fischer recently returned from speaking at a Singapore conference attended by people from 22 different countries, many of whom saw the "Jesus Camp" footage on YouTube, "and that's what they wanted for their kids," Fischer said.
Fischer said her intention in writing "Jesus Camp: My Story" was never to get even with the filmmakers or discredit them.

"I still believed there was enough good in it that it would change lives. This is why I let the movie be made, because I believed in it," she said.
http://bismarcktribune.com/news/state-and-regional/becky-fischer-of-jesus-camp-tells-her-side-of-t
he/article_dec56a58-d5a9-11e0-acae-001cc4c002e0.html

Fischer has no apologies or regrets about the film. "This is my scream to the church," she says. "You've got to pay attention to what you're doing or not doing to the kids, because we're losing them from the church."
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/novemberweb-only/146-12.0.html?start=2

Me and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

Originally written February 1, 2015
This essay won the Best Film Essay Telos award in 2015.


Sitting in the waiting room of the ICU seems like a pretty appropriate place to write an essay about a film like Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. I am surrounded by people who are contemplating mortality. Their own, but especially that of whoever they love who’s had enough injuries to end up in the Neuro Shock Trauma ward of the hospital. Everyone’s asking themselves questions. What does it mean to really know someone? How do you deal with the question of the survival of your loved one? 
On Thursday morning at school, I got a text from my mom telling me that my grandmother had been hit by a car while crossing the street, and was in the hospital. At first I just thought that she might have a couple of broken bones or something, but as they day progressed, and I continued getting updates, I realized that her condition was actually very serious. She had some pretty severe brain injuries. I have spent most of the past four days in the hospital with my family as we wait to see what the outcome of this situation will be. 

As I sat in the waiting room for hours with my favorite cousin, who also enjoys really good films, our conversation eventually turned to the last great movies we had seen. I had gone to the Sundance Film Festival screenings for high school students with my school earlier that week, so naturally I had a couple films to talk about. As I told him about the best film I had seen there- Me and Earl and the Dying Girl- I realized just how relevant the film was to my life just then, and probably to everyone’s life  at some point. 

The film, based on the novel by Jesse Andrews (who also wrote the screenplay), stars Thomas Mann as Greg, a hyper-modest high school filmmaker who is forced by his mother to reconnect with an old friend, Rachel, who was just diagnosed with cancer. The film really explores the ways that Greg deals with the uncertainty of disease, and the possibility of loss. One of the main themes of the film is that people’s stories can continue to unfold even if they are gone.

The whole idea is that, even if someone isn’t with you anymore, you still learn about who they are. In Dying Girl, Greg has a teacher who tells him that when his father passed away people kept telling him stories about his father’s past and he was astounded. He’d had this idea of who his dad was, but he realized that there was a lot more to him than just what he presented to his son. People have pasts, and interactions with people that we don’t know about. 

As I was in the hospital thinking about this, I was struck with regret, or melancholiness, or something. My grandma wrote a book. It’s legit, you can buy it at some bookstores, and on Amazon, and everything. It’s a memoir about her childhood. She grew up the daughter of Jewish circus owners in post-WWII Germany. I’ve never read it. Hundreds of people who have never met her know more about my grandmother’s early life than I do, and I have known her as long as I’ve been alive. I recognize now that she has played a very specific role in my life, and that outside of that capacity, she has had an entire life. Even though her future is really uncertain right now, I know that no matter what, her influence in my life isn’t going to just end any time soon. 

Even though the situation that I am dealing with right now is very different from the one explored in the movie, I think that one of the purposes of film is to draw connections between the things that people feel, even if the specific circumstances surrounding them are different. I really felt like Me and Earl and the Dying Girl accomplished that. I learned things from this film; memory is so important, but progression is equally important. Even if someone dies, it’s almost like your relationship can continue to grow. I am better able to understand and deal with the events in my life right now because I watched this film, and I think that is one thing that really makes a movie great.

Singing in the Rain

Originally written March 2, 2015


Singing in the Rain is a classic among the Musical Theater crowd I hang around with. Well, it’s also a classic for most people who love movies, or have parents who happen to casually like musicals. It’s on the American Film Institute’s “Best 100 American Films” list, so I guess that means it’s just a classic in general. It tells the story of Don Lockwood, a famous movie star in the late 1920’s, who has to balance his relationship with his best friend Cosmo, his new girlfriend Kathy, and his frequent co-star Lina Lamont (who is portrayed as his lover in the media), all while trying to navigate the transition from silent films to talkies.

Don Lockwood is played by the lovely Gene Kelly, who also directed and choreographed the film. He masterfully portrays the rude, egotistical performer that Don is at the beginning of the film, but believably transitions to the honest, kind man that he ends up becoming. One of the things that makes this film so lasting is his performance.

Gene Kelly’s dancing in particular is really something special. In the title number of the film, Don Lockwood tap dances through the rain, celebrating the fact that he has fallen in love. Kelly’s technical prowess as a dancer is extraordinary. All of his steps are perfect from a dance class perspective, but it’s really the emotion that he puts into the number that makes his performance stand out. It is the perfect musical theater number in many ways, perfectly combining the three disciplines- singing, dancing, and acting- exquisitely. At the time of filming, Gene Kelly was super sick; he had a 103 degree fever! This just goes to solidify his place as a wonderful performer, persevering through illness, and totally pulling it off.

One of the reasons that this film is so loved by film buffs is that it’s a good film about the film industry. It discusses the difficulties that filmmakers, studios, and actors all had when transitioning from the era of silent films into a time where “talkies” were where it was at. In the film, the first time that the characters see a talking picture they all think that it is just a some kind of gimmick, and it’s a phase that will pass. When the feature length film The Jazz Singer comes out in 1927, everyone knows that this new technology is becoming an integral part of the film industry, and that they have to keep up with the times or be left behind.

They choose to carry on and make films with sound even though they face some struggles, such as Lina Lamont, the most beloved silent film actor, having a shrill, obnoxious voice that could never belong to an ingenue actress. Their solution is to dub all of her lines with the voice to Don’s IRL girlfriend, Kathy.  This, of course, causes an a lot of drama that is ultimately sorted through in the end. It makes me grateful to live in a time where there are so many people portrayed on film, and there are so many roles, so people of any type can act on screen.

I think that this movie deserves it’s place on the American Film Institute’s list of the 100 Best American Films. It tells a lovely story with wonderful actors and incredible song and dance numbers. It educates about a very important part of film history. This film is just generally good. I will forever recommend it to anyone who loves a good musical.

You Can't Take It With You vs. It's a Wonderful Life

Originally written January 23, 2015


I watch It’s a Wonderful Life every year around Christmas with my family. My grandma makes fudge and peanut brittle and my mom cries. When I was a freshman in a Theater Foundations class at a brand new performing arts school, I read the play You Can’t Take It With You, then saw a community theater production of the show.

Maybe because of the differences between the original stage version of You Can’t Take It With You and the film, or maybe because I am bad at analyzing everything, I never realized the extent of the similarities between these two stories. 

That is, until I saw Frank Capra’s film adaptation of You Can’t Take It With You. I mean, there are bound to be similarities; Frank Capra directed both of movies, and Jimmy Stewart stars as the son of a banker. More than that, though, there are some very similar themes. Both films tell us that money isn’t what makes us happy, and that family and friends are the most important things in our lives. There are also some differences (obviously), especially concerning Jimmy Stewart’s character.

In It’s a Wonderful Life, Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, the ambitions son of the owner of Bailey’s Building and Loan. He gives up his dreams of travel and and adventure to take over his father’s business. He sacrifices personal aspirations, so much time, and even his honeymoon fund to help people save their homes, and ultimately save the town. 
Poppins, an unhappy office worker, meets Grandpa Sycamore by chance in the beginning of You Can’t Take It With You. From just that one meeting, Poppins realizes that he shouldn’t live his life entirely for money, and moves in with the Sycamore family. The whole family does precisely what they want to do, and doesn’t worry about being sensible or holding a day job.

Both of these films explore how people can find fulfillment even when they have no money, and I think that that is something that Frank Capra was probably very interested in.

These movies both have one incredibly similar scene. In You Can’t Take It With You, the family needs to be bailed out of jail, and in It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey needs to find some money to avoid going to prison. In both films, the main characters are so kind and helpful to other people around them that they have so many, many friends to help them out. The communities come together and pay for the things they need. There are hats passed around large groups of people, as everyone pulls out their wallets and contributes all of the cash and change they can. Even the judge in You Can’t Take It With You, and the bank inspection guys in It’s a Wonderful Life contribute to the collection. 

Both films teach us about the importance of friendship, and that lovingly helping other people out during your life is really good karma, and you may reap the fruits of what you’ve sown some day. 

These films aren’t just carbon copies of each other, though. They answer the question of finding fulfillment completely differently. In You Can’t Take It With You everyone finds happiness by doing exactly what they want to do, whereas in It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey completely sacrifices everything that he wants to do, and instead devotes himself to work that is for the benefit of other people. He finds joy in the end by being kind and unselfish. In You Can’t Take It With You, Jimmy Stewart quits the banking job he hates in order to follow his dreams and be happy. In It’s a Wonderful Life, Jimmy Stewart continues for years in the banking job he hates, and finds happiness in the fact that he has done so much good, and that so many people care about him. 

These films are both so beautiful, and I love them individually. The themes in these films of finding happiness in your friends and family instead of in having a lot of money, and finding what will bring you joy and doing it, can be found in all of our lives, too.  These movies are similar in many ways, but I think that they have value on their own. I am sure that both of these films will become staples in my classic film viewing life. 

Red Beard

Originally written January 12, 2015


Red Beard is my favorite Kurosawa film that we have watched in class. I especially like the way it stresses the importance of kindness and selflessness, and the goodness of human nature. Though the film is set in 1800s Japan, there are many elements of the film that parallel things in my life, or in the world today, and I think that’s why I loved this film. It is every bit as relevant here and now as it was in 1965, when it was first released in Japan. 

In the film, a young doctor named Yasumoto has his first assignment out of medical school, in a medical clinic for the poor, run by a doctor everyone calls Red Beard. Though they sometimes treat the rich people in their town to fund the clinic, these men give up higher positions and careers to help the marginalized people around them. 

Today there are people who could have respected, well paid jobs in hospitals or as other kinds of doctors, but instead make the choice to use their knowledge and skill working somewhere like Salt Lake’s Fourth Street Clinic. Fourth Street Clinic is a medical center that gives homeless people here access to primary care. They have 50 employees and over 150 licensed volunteers, without them this work would be impossible. 

In Red Beard, Yasumoto and Red Beard save a little girl, Otoyo, from a brothel. She becomes Yasumoto’s first patient. Even in our modern world there are many cases of children in slavery being sexually abused for profit. The International Justice Mission is an organization that is not only raising awareness of modern day slavery, but is actually on the ground fighting to end it. They work to get protective legislation put in place, and, like Red Beard and Yasumoto, they work rescuing enslaved children and giving them the care they need.

 In the film, you can see a chain reaction of kindness. Red Beard is kind to Yasumoto, who is kind to Otoyo, who is kind to a little boy named Chobo, who stops stealing at her request. Sometimes in our lives, it is harder to trace exactly these pathways of kindness, but we know they are there. 

One of the most fulfilling parts of my life is my choice to be vegetarian. While I think I would have stopped eating meat at some point, it would have taken me much longer had it not been for a chain starting with my brother meeting the girl he eventually married. She has been a vegetarian since childhood. Pretty soon he became vegetarian, then my little sister, then me, then my little brother, and just this week my favorite cousin made the announcement that he has also made the switch. I am grateful for my sister-in-law’s influence in that respect. We never know who we are going to effect by just living our lives in a kind, aware way, so we should always try to be the best we can in that moment. 

Another part of the film that I can see reflected in my life is the message that we all have many facets of ourselves, and that they are all valid. When Yasumoto first comes to the clinic, he sees himself as hardworking, honest, principled, and dedicated. He comes to see himself as arrogant, egotistical, and selfish, and for a while he gets really sad because he thinks that is all there is to him. In reality, and as he comes to learn, he is a mixture of good and bad, and once he is aware of his negative qualities, he can work to lessen them, and concentrate on the good things he does well. 

I think that most people will feel this is echoed in their own life. We all have moments when we feel great about ourselves, and times we feel terrible and worthless. I think that it is important to remember that we are all a combination of good and bad, and that we always have the choice of what our next action will be. 

Red Beard teaches us that we should find purpose in serving people around us with love. Even though there is bad in the world, and in each of us, there is also lots of good and we should choose that side of our nature. This film brilliantly catches points in human nature that keep it relevant, even now, 50 years after its original release, and on the other side of the planet from where it’s set. The themes are echoed in the world, and in my life, and that is why the film is so meaningful to me. I will certainly be sharing it with other people, in the hope that they also find the message moving.

Kurosawa and Shakespeare

Originally written December 10, 2014


There is quite an extensive list of filmmakers Akira Kurosawa inspired. George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and John Sturges top the list. Perhaps equally as impressive is the list of people who Kurosawa himself was inspired by. John Ford was certainly a huge influence, as was Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky. He was part of a group of artist that were particularly interested in literature. Another man who shows a great impact on Kurosawa’s work is William Shakespeare. 

Kurosawa adapted several of Shakespeare’s works into films set in Japan. His first was Throne of Blood, in 1957, which is based on Macbeth. Three years later The Bad Sleep Well, an adaptation of Hamlet. Finally, in 1985, he made Ran, based on King Lear. He used the original plays as more of a guideline to create his own thing, rather than a set script. His films all use basic character and plot points from the films, however they take many liberties with the story; after all Kurosawa is not trying to tell the exact same story as Shakespeare was.

Shakespeare used beautiful words to communicate with the audience. Kurosawa evokes many of those same emotions, but instead of prose he employes visual things to connect with his viewers. An review from a 1961 copy of the Time magazine stated : “Kurosawa's Shakespeare inevitably—and fortunately—involves more Kurosawa than Shakespeare. With blunt and vital irreverence, the director has translated Shakespeare's words into Japanese images. Shakespeare's lords into Japanese barons [...] the spectator scarcely has time to realize, as the images deafen and the noises decorate his imagination,that he is experiencing effects of cinema seldom matched in their headlong masculine power of imagination.”

In both Throne of Blood and Ran, Kurosawa made use of Japanese Noh theatre. Noh is a very stylized, motion-centered art, which added an extremely theatrical element to his films, and contrasted typical western naturalism. This is particularly interesting because Kurosawa usually eschewed traditional Japanese film techniques, so for him to use an ancient theatrical form in his films forces one to think about what it was he didn’t like specifically about Japanese filmmaking.

In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, one of the themes is versions of reality. This is a theme that was definitely echoed in Kurosawa’s film Rashomon. “Fair is foul and foul is fair,” say the witches at the beginning of the play. Floating daggers, severed fingers, and perpetually blood-stained hands are all things that we are told happen in the show, however it’s up to the audience to decide how much of this is hallucination or imagination. In Rashomon, the different versions of reality are also explored, but this time by contradicting stories. Again, the audience has to sort out the truth from fiction. Whether Kurosawa was directly influenced by Macbeth when he made Rashomon, or he was just a fan of the playwright’s work, it is easy to see parallels between the two artists.

Conflict in Kurosawa

Originally written December 8, 2014


Akira Kurosawa makes very thoughtful, human films. Even through the four films that we have viewed in this class so far- Rashomon, Sanshiro Sugata, Drunken Angel, and Stray Dog- you can see common themes discussed. I feel like one thing that Kurosawa loved to explore, at least up to this point in his career, is conflict. Conflict within each individual person, and also conflict in the human race. These themes were not only stated in the content, but also thoroughly illustrated artistically.

Throughout every Kurosawa film there have been characters who have inner struggles, or inconsistency in their actions. In Rashomon, the character of the woodcutter is accused of theft, but immediately after that, he takes in an abandoned baby.

In Drunken Angel, both of the main characters, the Doctor and Matsunaga, display serious conflicting traits. The Doctor cares deeply about his patients and friends. He loves them, however he is very strict. He shows very little affection, particularly to Matsunaga. He wants Matsunaga to be cured of his disease, but he is unwilling to work with him in a way that is any different than how he believes it should be done, even if he knows that means that Matsunaga will not follow his advice, and will die.

Murakami in Stray Dog faces inner conflict with his work as a police officer. He wants to fulfill the law to the best of his ability, however he feels like what he is doing may not be the most compassionate thing. While chasing down Yuzo, he realizes that he is also just a man. He is another human, and Murakami wonders if he deserves to face the law, even though he broke it.

The conflict of humans is not only within each person, but also in the entire human race. The film that best displays this is Rashomon. There are conflicting stories, each told as truth, and no one can distinguish the difference between what’s real and what’s false. Conflicting ideas of what is “true” is a very prevalent, timeless idea.

In Rashomon, another conflict is the fight between good and evil in us. The characters all start to lose their faith in humankind. They think that the bad in the world is steadily taking over any good that may be present. They are so focused on the unpleasant things, that they entirely lose sight of all the beauty. Near the end of the film, when the woodcutter takes in the baby, they remember that life is not composed of just one thing. You have to take the good with the bad, or else you will just be sad all the time and hate everything.

Kurosawa did not only explicitly state these themes, he definitely showed them artistically. One thing that people love to analyze in his films is his use of light and darkness. I felt like, out of the four films, this was most shown in Rashomon. In all of the shots in the woods, light was streaming in through the trees, which could represent how each story had elements of the truth, but was ultimately shadowy and incomplete.

The fight scenes in Drunken Angel and Stray Dog were a superb example of artistic contrast. The fighting was intense, brutal, and violent, but in both scenes he made them look beautiful. Once with a bucket of paint spilled on the floor, and once with the beautiful natural surroundings of a field. I felt like the violence was much more disconcerting since it was in such a lovely package, and I think that’s what Kurosawa intended.

Conflict is definitely a theme that I feel is heavily discussed in Kurosawa’s films. I go away from watching them thinking about the conflicting sides of my own character, and the conflict of human nature and the society I am a part of. These points resonate even more as a result of Kurosawa’s careful, technical planning. I feel like these films, in part because of the prevalent theme of conflict, are very valuable and should not be missed.


Rashomon: A Film Essay

KC Fralick
Kurosawa Week 2
Akira Kurosawa makes very thoughtful, human films. Even through the four films that we have viewed in this class so far- Rashomon, Sanshiro Sugata, Drunken Angel, and Stray Dog- you can see common themes discussed. I feel like one thing that Kurosawa loved to explore, at least up to this point in his career, is conflict. Conflict within each individual person, and also conflict in the human race. These themes were not only stated in the content, but also thoroughly illustrated artistically.

Throughout every Kurosawa film there have been characters who have inner struggles, or inconsistency in their actions. In Rashomon, the character of the woodcutter is accused of theft, but immediately after that, he takes in an abandoned baby.

In Drunken Angel, both of the main characters, the Doctor and Matsunaga, display serious conflicting traits. The Doctor cares deeply about his patients and friends. He loves them, however he is very strict. He shows very little affection, particularly to Matsunaga. He wants Matsunaga to be cured of his disease, but he is unwilling to work with him in a way that is any different than how he believes it should be done, even if he knows that means that Matsunaga will not follow his advice, and will die.

Murakami in Stray Dog faces inner conflict with his work as a police officer. He wants to fulfill the law to the best of his ability, however he feels like what he is doing may not be the most compassionate thing. While chasing down Yuzo, he realizes that he is also just a man. He is another human, and Murakami wonders if he deserves to face the law, even though he broke it.

The conflict of humans is not only within each person, but also in the entire human race. The film that best displays this is Rashomon. There are conflicting stories, each told as truth, and no one can distinguish the difference between what’s real and what’s false. Conflicting ideas of what is “true” is a very prevalent, timeless idea.

In Rashomon, another conflict is the fight between good and evil in us. The characters all start to lose their faith in humankind. They think that the bad in the world is steadily taking over any good that may be present. They are so focused on the unpleasant things, that they entirely lose sight of all the beauty. Near the end of the film, when the woodcutter takes in the baby, they remember that life is not composed of just one thing. You have to take the good with the bad, or else you will just be sad all the time and hate everything.

Kurosawa did not only explicitly state these themes, he definitely showed them artistically. One thing that people love to analyze in his films is his use of light and darkness. I felt like, out of the four films, this was most shown in Rashomon. In all of the shots in the woods, light was streaming in through the trees, which could represent how each story had elements of the truth, but was ultimately shadowy and incomplete.

The fight scenes in Drunken Angel and Stray Dog were a superb example of artistic contrast. The fighting was intense, brutal, and violent, but in both scenes he made them look beautiful. Once with a bucket of paint spilled on the floor, and once with the beautiful natural surroundings of a field. I felt like the violence was much more disconcerting since it was in such a lovely package, and I think that’s what Kurosawa intended.

Conflict is definitely a theme that I feel is heavily discussed in Kurosawa’s films. I go away from watching them thinking about the conflicting sides of my own character, and the conflict of human nature and the society I am a part of. These points resonate even more as a result of Kurosawa’s careful, technical planning. I feel like these films, in part because of the prevalent theme of conflict, are very valuable and should not be missed.