Thursday, May 17, 2018

Special Review - RONIN - My favorite movie of all time


Every movie buff, film historian, and especially filmmaker, has one movie in their collection that shines as their one and absolute favorite. Maybe it's the movie they saw in theaters for the first time, or perhaps it's what they saw on their first date, or it could very well be the one they watched on TV in their rooms as a kid hidden away from their parents that made them want to be a filmmaker. For whatever reason, everyone has a favorite movie that they could watch many times over and never grow tired of it. Furthermore, I am of the opinion that you can tell a lot about a person by the movies they like. Today, I'm going to tell you about the film I consider my cinematic canon. The film I draw the most influence from both in my artistic endeavors and in my personal life. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, John Frankenheimer's Ronin

Released in 1998, Ronin is a movie about loyalty, trust, and betrayal presented in a masterfully and beautifully constructed action framework. The story follows a group of mercenaries hired by Irish extremists to steal a mysterious case from the Russian mob. Amongst this motley crew is an American named Sam (Robert De Nero), who may or may not have worked for the CIA. Also amongst them is a Frenchman named Vincent (Jean Reno), with an even more mysterious background, but it's hinted that he may have worked for French Intelligence. Over the course of the film, the two men form a unique friendship and, ultimately, become the heart of the movie. 

The film can best be described as a character-driven neo-noir action thriller. It is what you get when every single person involved with its production is playing their A game, demonstrates mutual respect for all participants, and shares a passionate enthusiasm for the material. Every person involved in the making of this film, from the cast to the composer, the cinematographer, and especially the director, loved making this film. It is the pinnacle of quality, professionalism, and excitement for the craft of movies. Few other films I have seen have ever even come close to matching its quality. 

It is worth noting that the script for this film has a history that's equally fascinating as the movie itself. The early draft was penned by a writer named J.D. Zeik, which caught the eye of renowned director John Frankenheimer, who liked the general idea presented in the script but felt that it could use some polish from an outside perspective. He then proceeded to hire another writer (whose name I shall reveal in a moment) as a script doctor. Said writer then went on to completely change up the storyline, characters, dialogue, and general tone of the movie nearly to the point that it was no longer really J.D. Zeik's script. Upon reading the brand new draft, Frankenheimer loved it and decided right then and there to make that movie. This caused a significant dispute between Frankenheimer, the studio, and the WGA (Writers Guild of America). After everyone had cooled down, they all agreed to give J.D. Zeik a story and screenplay credit. However, the other writer approached Frankenheimer and requested that he be credited under a pseudonym. This is why you've never heard of any writer named Richard Weisz because his actual name is David Mamet, the Pulitzer-prize winning playwright, screenwriter, and director. Yeah, I was surprised as well. 

Anyway, back to the movie.

Starting with the cast: As you would expect, Robert De Nero brings his usual top-notch talent and skill to the role. He trained in handling and firing various weapons, he studied many tactics required of a professional spy, and he learned to speak French for the film. From the first moment you see his character on screen, you can tell that he is a calculating person who is always three steps ahead of everyone else. His performance is further enhanced by his terrific chemistry with his co-star Jean Reno. The two actors had great respect for each other and, as far as I can tell, loved every day of shooting. Jean Reno, most famous for his role as Leon in The Professional, brings a subtle amount of levity to the proceedings. Not by being goofy, but because his character looks at every situation he faces with a kind of optimistic if cynical confidence. No matter what's going on, he still manages to keep a leveled head and crack an occasional smile. These two excellent actors carry the film on their shoulders with ease and pride. Making their adventure all the more exciting and worthy of our time. 

As I mentioned a moment ago, one of the ways to describe this film is neo-noir, as in modern film noir. For those of you who don't know, film noir is a subgenre of film that specializes in dark and gritty stories and presentations. Dictionary.com describes the genre as "a motion picture with an often grim urban setting, photographed in somber tones and permeated by a feeling of disillusionment, pessimism, and despair." Furthermore, in the book 101 Things I Learned in Film School by Neil Landau and Matthew Frederick, number 38 points out that everyone in film noir is corrupt, and that altruism is for suckers. What makes Ronin such a unique take on the film noir subgenre, at least to me, is the way in which it subverts this idea albeit in a small way. 

NOTE:

To explain what I mean, I have to give SPOILERS. Usually, I would avoid doing so as I want to give anyone out there who has not yet seen Ronin the chance to do so with a clean slate. So, for those of you who wish to continue reading but still don't want any SPOILERS, from here on out, avoid any paragraphs that contain the SPOILERS prompt and that are written in RED

Okay? Excellent. Moving on. 

SPOILERS!

Okay, so it turns out that Sam (Robert De Nero) is actually still working for the CIA. His mission was to use the lure of the mysterious briefcase to draw out the ringleader of the Irish extremist group named Seamus (Jonathan Pryce). He accomplishes his goal as part of a joint effort between his agency and French Intelligence, i.e., his friend Vincent (Jean Reno). The way this twist subverts standard film noir, at least to me, is the fact that, despite Sam and Vincent performing shady acts and causing a fair amount of collateral damage, however unintentional, they did so with the sole intention of bringing down a more significant threat. This in no way justifies their actions entirely, as they still put innocent lives in danger through their efforts, but it does make their operations more understandable and even relatable. Because they did what they believed to be the best way to bring down a greater evil, seeking an altruistic goal that was accomplished in a less-than-noble fashion. This combination is still in keeping with film noir tradition, but offers up a slightly more optimistic outlook, making it a genuinely unique experience!

For those of you who skipped the last paragraph, the short version is that Ronin creates a rare opportunity for altruism and optimism in a subgenre that traditionally doesn't include either. 

As a cinematographer, I feel I would be doing Ronin a disservice by not talking about its own photographic beauty. Ronin was photographed by a French cinematographer named Robert Fraisse. He spent most of his career working with renowned French director Jean-Jacques Annaud, late of Seven Years in Tibet and The Lover. However, it was the HBO TV film, Citizen X, that encouraged John Frankenheimer to give Robert a call. 

There are three distinctive style choices for Ronin which made Robert Fraisse the perfect man for the job. First: Ronin was photographed in style known as "deep focus." For those of you who don't know, deep focus is when most of the image, if not the entire image, is presented clearly all throughout. Most traditional Hollywood films will utilize what's called a shallow depth-of-field, wherein the subject will be clear while the background will be blurred out. Deep focus photography allows the action and the characters to be easier to follow and creates a more profound sense of realism, which is what Frankenheimer wanted. Second: The film maintains a distinct color palette. Ronin keeps a dark color style avoiding primary colors. In fact, the color red is rarely seen in the film and only used to highlight something important. Anything on the shooting location that didn't match their color palette was temporarily removed for shooting. This was the films way of creating a gritty and dark style reminiscent of classic black & white noir movies while shooting in color. Third: The lighting is very naturalistic. Hollywood lighting styles tend to go one of two ways: There's glamorous, which is commonly used in Michael Bay films as his lighting tends to exemplify an extreme fashion, and then there's naturalistic (also known as practical), which is lighting that is made to be virtually invisible. Very few scenes ever look as though they were lit in such a way to exemplify a specific mood or element. This further creates the more realistic tone of the film as it causes the audience to pay more attention to the characters and the story. 

Of course, the photography doesn't really add up to anything without editing. Assembled by Antony Gibbs Ronin pioneered the quick style of editing often used in action films today. The editing, especially during the action scenes, is sharp, fast, and carefully timed, creating a sense of intensity to the action. Many editors working today have taken inspiration from Ronin for their own work, emulating the fast-paced style from the film. However, what many modern editors fail to realize is that, while the editing in Ronin was quick, it was not hyper. Antony Gibbs did give Ronin a fast style, but he put a lot of thought and effort into every single cut. When watching an action scene in Ronin, you are able to follow every single motion on screen with ease. This is mainly because Antony Gibbs remembered to keep a sense of continuity with his cuts. As a result, though there may be up to twenty different shots of the same scene, they all flow together seamlessly as one consistent moment. Furthermore, nothing is exaggerated. There is no slow motion or aggressive camera movement that obscures your ability to comprehend the action. This is often forgotten by most modern filmmakers, and as a result, we get action scenes that are shot with a hyperactive handheld shaky camera, combined with editing that does not have any continuity between shots. Even worse, these filmmakers will use post-production tools like earthquake filters to intensify the blurriness of the image even more. This is why Ronin is the best, and maybe the only, example of good quick editing. 

Another element that makes Ronin so recognizable is its fantastic car chases. All the car chases were shot practically throughout France. Most of the driving was done by a French Formula 1 driver named Jean-Pierre Jarier. Who was so precise and accurate with his driving, that despite having to make multiple high speed turns, he managed to land the car in the exact same spot on every single take. To the point where the director commented that he could have placed the camera ten feet closer to the action if he wanted to and not worry about getting hit by the car. Another aspect of the chase scenes that makes them so visceral is that the main cast is actually in the cars. One actor named Skipp Sudduth, who plays a supporting character named Larry, requested that he actually drive the car for the chase scenes. To which the director replied, "I don't want to see any brake lights." 

When talking about Ronin, it is impossible to do so without mentioning the music. Composed by Elia Cmiral, the music of Ronin is somber, poetic, energetic, and sometimes even relaxing. The most famous aspect of the music which gives Ronin part of its identity is the use of a unique instrument called an Armenian Duduk. A wooden flute-like instrument which produces a rich and somber sound, almost like a weeping bird. I listen to the soundtrack quite often, especially when I'm driving (though I make sure not to pretend I'm in a high-speed chase on the highway). Here is an example of the Duduk in action. You can hear it about 46 seconds into the clip. 

All of these elements are fully realized and affectionately handled under the talented and skilled eye of director John Frankenheimer. You've seen his name throughout this review so now it's time to actually give him some focus. By 1998, Frankenheimer had been making movies for well over forty years. Some of his most noteworthy films include Grand Prix and Seven Days in May. He had a keen eye for shot composition, visual storytelling, and directing actors. He was indeed an all-around artist. Sadly, Frankenheimer passed away in 2002. His legacy will live on...as we pretend The Island of Dr. Moreau never happened. 

When approaching the script for Ronin, Frankenheimer was mostly inspired by classic crime thrillers like The French Connection. He was one of the few filmmakers to be allowed to shoot the majority of the film in Paris despite featuring scenes of gunplay and a citywide ordinance against staged gunfights. Frankenheimer had lived in Paris for years and wanted to showcase it as a city that was great for making films. Fortunately, the French government felt the same way and granted Frankenheimer special permission to shoot his movie in Paris. The most famous location, at least to me, is the stairs leading to a bar where the film begins and ends. My father and I found them once and took a quick visit as well as some pictures. 





If you're ever in Paris and want to visit this site for yourself, you can find the exact location here. 

Ronin is the kind of film that makes people like myself utter the phrase "they don't make them like they used to." It's an artfully crafted edge-of-your-seat thriller that even to this day still feels as fresh and enjoyable as it did the day it opened in theaters. I highly encourage anyone who is into movies in any capacity, be they casual or professional, to add this movie to your collection. Furthermore, I especially recommend the new Blu-Ray release from Arrow Video. It is, without a doubt, the best copy of Ronin ever produced. You will find a link to said Blu-Ray below. 

Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm, thank you so very much for reading. I hope you enjoy this classic film as much as I enjoy both watching it and talking about it. 

And remember... 

"Whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt." 


Friday, May 11, 2018

Breaking In - Perfectly serviceable


Some of the hardest kinds of movies to review are the ones that aren't really bad or very good but are just serviceable. As in movies that don't have any real sense of identity, style, or essential themes, but are still competently made with the best of intentions that don't offer anything substantial outside of a quick and pleasant distraction for ninety minutes or so. While Breaking In earns lots of bonus points to having a talented black actress in the lead role playing a character who is not only badass but is also sympathetic, it sadly doesn't have much else to bring to the table. 

The story follows a young mother named Shaun (Gabrielle Union) and her two kids as they travel to her recently murdered father's old house located deep in the woods to sell it. Her father was involved in organized crime and rumor has it that he secretly hid away a large sum of cash in the house, further exacerbated by the brand new security system installed in the home as well as a group of thieves breaking into the house to find the safe and make off with the cash. Instead of merely taking the money and walking away, the thieves are now stuck in a standoff against Shaun as they have locked down the house with her kids inside and are now trying to use them as leverage. Instead, they have awakened the beast and mama will stop at nothing to protect her kids. 

So, it's Die Hard meets Panic Room, but without any of its own flare, creative style, or individuality. This is primarily assembly line cinema. 

 The most significant flaw with this movie is that nothing about it stands out. None of the characters get any growth or development outside of their standard and one-note archetypes. The film continually foreshadows things that suggest it's going to be essential or play a significant part in the story, but then they're never brought up again. The protagonist is continually going on about how the bad guys don't know what she's capable of but we never get an idea as to what she means by that. Like, does she have special combat training or something to that effect? We never know. We never even learn what kind of criminal her father was and what kind of an impact that has had on Shaun's life growing up. It's like J.J Abrams tired "Mystery Box" schtick, always hinting at something meaningful and relevant but never paying off in any satisfactory way. 

On the plus side, everyone acting is decent, the cinematography is lovely, the cat & mouse chase sequences are adequately suspenseful, and Gabrielle Union cements herself as a versatile actress who deserves bigger and better roles in the future. 

Breaking In is not a terrible movie, but it's also nothing you will remember an hour later. It'll serve as an okay thing to see on Mothers Day, and that's about it. 

Is this movie worth seeing? 
Maybe

Is it worth seeing in theaters? 
Maybe 

Why? 
While it doesn't have much in the way of texture or personal identity, it does have an adequate story of how badass mothers can be and showcases Gabrielle Union as a genuine movie star. Take Mom to see it this Mothers Day but don't bother getting in on Blu-Ray afterwards. 

Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm, thank you for reading. 





Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Flim vs. DIgital - Why it never mattered to begin with


Some years ago I participated in a filmmaker training program at the New York Film Academy in Los Angeles California. The most exciting part of that program was getting the opportunity to shoot one of our student projects inside Universal Studios back lot. Another fun aspect was shooting our short movies on Super 16mm celluloid film. This further enhanced my own personal excitement as I was under the impression that since we were shooting in a traditional format, we would be editing the film in an old-fashioned way. As in looking at every individual frame, choosing the right spot to cut on the guillotine, splicing in the next frame with scotch tape, then making a brand new print form our own assembly. However, upon retrieving our footage, I was disappointed to discover that after the film had been developed, it had already been digitized and would be given to us in the form of a QuickTime video, which we would then have to edit on the computer. This was not a big concern to me as I had already familiarized myself with video editing software. I just found myself bummed that we weren't given the opportunity to try our hands at real editing. Furthermore, I was confused as to the choice of capture format. If our celluloid film was going to be digitized anyway, what was the point in shooting on it? It was from this experience I learned that shooting on digital cameras was not only inevitable, but it was also significantly more practical. Especially in the modern age of digital technology. Even so, using that classic Super 16mm film did give me an appreciation for the format which I still maintain to this day. Despite how much I don't ever want to use it again.

The fact of the matter is that celluloid film, despite its rich history, is very cumbersome. A fact stated by even some of the most classic and well-versed filmmakers. One director, in particular, spent the last few years of his career, and indeed his life, advocating the artistic merit of digital video. The late Sydney Lumet, director of such classics as 12 Angry Men, Network, and Murder on the Orient Express (all of which were shot on celluloid), spend his last few years making movies on early HD video cameras. Not only did he fall head over heels in love with the technology, he even had a perfectly logical reason for preferring HD video over film. Aside from the expected cumbersomeness of dealing with celluloid, Sydney Lumet also argued that there was a scientific reason as to why digital was better for everyone. He pointed out how there are three forms of energy: Thermal (heat), chemical, and electromagnetic (light). When shooting on film, you begin with light (electromagnetic), and you process that through a chemical base, a different energy form, and because of this, there is always a loss between what you saw with your eyes, and what was captured on the celluloid. Whereas in HD video, you begin with light, and you end with light. It stays within a single energy form, thus remaining exactly how you saw it.

Given this reasonable and defendable scientific observation, it stands to reason that digital video is much more practical for making cinema. Even so, what can be said in defense of celluloid film? Well, the most famous argument is the aesthetics. Many filmmakers who have been shooting on celluloid for most of their careers, such as Christopher Nolan and Quentin Tarantino, have argued that, compared to digital video, celluloid is superior and more aesthetically pleasing. But why? How does celluloid film achieve this appealing property? Well, I have a theory: It's actually physical. Digital cameras capture images using a flat sensor that reads light. As such, although the pictures these sensors create are still visually beautiful, they can come across as flat and be lacking in texture. Whereas compared to celluloid film, a format you can actually touch and hold in your hands, contains many layers of texture and is more three dimensional. This creates a sense of realism that digital video has still yet to master, thus proving celluloid film has one significant advantage over digital video.

All of these arguments are valid in their own ways. Even so, I can't help but feel that everyone on either side is missing the point. That point is that it really, really, really doesn't matter. Why? Because there's really no reason to argue that one format is more acceptable than the other aside from aesthetic preferences. Throughout the long and rich history of cinema, there have been multiple formats that everyone and their mother had an opinion about, and they all proved themselves to be worthy of high-quality storytelling. No one believed that Super 16mm could be anything other than a documentary format until the film Texas Chainsaw Massacre came out. No one thought that digital video could be a viable format for cinema until the Dogma 95 movement. No one believed that DSLRs could work as cinematic cameras until films like Act of Valor and 127 Hours used them. Etc, etc.

In the world of storytelling and creative visions, there has never really been one real way to bring your ideas to life. The only barriers to acceptability are the ones put up by arrogant and ignorant people who are afraid of new and unfamiliar territory. Being an artist is not only about having the talent and skill necessary to create meaningful and beautiful works, but it is also about learning to adapt to the changes in technology. It happened with painting, it happened with photography, it has happened in cinema. Somewhere down the line, another art form will go through its own evolution. It will either come out the other end stronger with both its traditional ways and embracement of the new, or it may cower in the shadows denying the change of the times, fading away into obscurity.

Speaking personally, I will continue to shoot still photos on both film and digital, but my cinematic projects will be, for the most part, digital only. Unless I happen to stumble on a project that actually benefits from being shot on film. In which case, I'll know just what to do, and I hope that others will as well.

Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm, thank you for reading.

Juror #2 - Unexpected

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