“Lawder’s cult-favorite film is a continuous shot of the anonymous faces of evening commuters in New York’s Grand Central Station. The film was made with a stationary camera pointed at a down escalator, and then the film was run backward, creating an effect of expressionless faces rising towards the heavens. Legendary filmmaker Jonas Mekas remarked of Necrology, “It is one of the strongest and grimmest comments upon the contemporary society that cinema has produced.”
'Experimental and Expanded Film/Video works are often perceived as being 'difficult'. As a spectator, how far has this been your experience with the films you have studied for this topic?'
I found, throughout the time on studying experimental film it became increasingly difficult to communicate with and watch. However, this varies with the films that I have studied and watch. I am going to discuss my views on two Maya Deren films, The Quay Brothers, Kenneth Anger, Chris Cunningham, and Le Jetee.
I feel that I am quite a creative student in terms of film and art so I was surprised when I was faced with different types of experimental films, as I thought (naively) they would be easy viewing, but more abstract. After watching ‘Meshes of the Afternoon’ I realized I was clearly wrong. I found it difficult to watch, I wouldn’t use the word boring to describe the experience, but I definitely wasn’t interested in the film. However, I did like the challenge of being able to take jumbled up bits of narrative, and quirky eerie shots and try to figure out my own perspective of the film. There is a boy shown in the film, which I feel is her boyfriend, so I think that Maya Deren had to find herself again in order to conform to the femininity a woman is faced with when she meets a man. I don’t think this is a feminist video, but I definitely think the narrative has underlying issues of feeling lost, and self reflection (through the use of mirror) and trying to find who you really are. I found Maya Deren’s ‘At Land’ much easier to watch, as I liked the artiness of the framing, and the shots. I didn’t enjoy ‘Meshes of the Afternoon’, and although it was Maya Deren’s most successful film, I feel ‘At Land’ was better in terms of framing, narrative and just general feeling.
However, I found ‘La Jetee’ easy to view and thoroughly enjoyed the 30 minutes it was on and I feel I could have watched it for longer. ‘La Jetee’ is confusing, but at the end reveals a clear narrative along with aesthetically pleasing framing and cinematography. I enjoyed the film more than any other experimental film as it had narrative and a structure, which after studying these films I found out these two qualities are what I look for and crave. I feel that if there is not a clear message that is conveyed and presented through narrative, or intertextually, then there isn’t much point in the film, as I think, ‘why make a film’ if only the creator/director understands it? Experimental film I feel isn’t about being told what it’s about or the deeper meaning; it’s about self-realization and discovery, that’s the beauty of it.
I feel that the before point relates deeply to Kenneth Anger’s ‘Fireworks’ I didn’t enjoy viewing this film, and as a spectator feel that the messages conveyed within the film (Anger’s hidden sexuality) could have been made much clearer within the scenes, and mise-en-scene used to represent the underlying issues of the film, and his life.
I love the idea of Experimental Cinema. I like the fact that it doesn’t conform to Hollywood, or blockbuster cinema, and the influences of it have such a flamboyant and wide range, you never know what you are going to end up watching, as it’s like there is no filter. Experimental film is a representation of what’s in someone’s mind, whether it be surrealism, fantasy, dreams, greed or something completely different like trash cinema; which I found, despite the amateur acting and unorganized scenes, easy to watch. I feel this is because there was a narrative in the film we were following.
I find Chris Cunningham’s shocking surrealist work sometimes difficult to watch, but like the highbrow art that films like ‘Flex’ create. After watching ‘Flex’ for the first time, I wasn’t sure what I made of it, it wasn’t until the fourth or fifth time watching it that I enjoyed viewing it, without feeling the need to venture into the narrative and message conveyed within the film. The extreme close-ups of body parts stripped bare of clothes I thought would shock me, but it didn’t, I found it artistic and unique. The use of music added to the film, as I watched it once on mute, and once with the music, and enjoyed it more in silence. The film definitely belongs in an art gallery, or at an art house as I feel the shots and framing are unlike anything I have ever seen.
Watching experimental/extended film for hours on must be difficult. Some films are over five hours long, and would have to have a very devoted audience to sit and take in the film for that amount of time. I know after five minutes of confusion I would likely become frustrated and distracted from the film and eventually turn it off. However, I would like to be able to watch a film without feeling the need for narrative and enjoy/take in the art and experiments made within the film and realize what makes it unique.
I found that The Quay Brothers films gave me the biggest problem of all. They use a lot of stop motion animation, which I find extremely difficult to watch any way. I respond better to film and relate stop-motion to cartoons, which I do find boring.
All in all, I think that some films can be ‘difficult’ to understand, but ultimately depends on the person as well as the film. Those with a greater a attention span may feel the need to take more in, and by doing that understand the film better as they’ve given it a fair chance. Experimental film has been around for decades and although the market and budgets for these films are low, I feel they will grow in popularity as Hollywood/high budget films will one day become too ‘samey’. High budget films such as ‘Science of Sleep’ represent surrealism and dreams. Also Chris Cunningham works frequently on adverts creating his own unique style.
Here is an interview with director Fernando Merielles about the making of 'City Of God' where he discusses how he cast the film largely with non-actors, mostly young males, who were discovered in the various favelas around Rio de Janeiro in an extensive and non-traditional casting process.
Extract: When did you decide to use non-actors in the film?
When I decided to do the film, I wanted to do it with the same feeling as the book, this “inside” feeling. I knew I couldn’t get this feeling with professionals. And I wanted to use the expertise from the people inside the slums for the film. Whenever I gave them the script, instead of giving them the dialogue, I’d tell them what the intentions of the sequences were and let them improvise. Doing those improvisations for about ten months is how we came up with all the dialogue. If you read our fourth version of the script, the one that I decided to work with, I think like 30 percent is actually scripted. The rest they made up, that’s why it feels so natural. They were a co-author of the film to be sure and that’s why it works.
Worth a look for a discussion of 'City of God'. Go to chapter 8: Post-Cinema Novo - Brazilian Cinema (pg. 117). There are also some useful chapters on New Wave Cinema.
What is the importance of mise-en-scene and/or sound in creating meaning and generating response in the films you have studied for this topic?
In City of God, there are numerous scenes which illustrate the significance of both sound and mise-en-scene in order to distribute meaning to the audience, and use textual devices and to highlight contextual issues.
Throughout the film, various events are clearly defined by textual footers that appear on the bottom of the screen (such as 'The Story Of The Apartment', and 'The Story of L'il Ze'); therefore the entire film can easily be broken down into sections, making analysis of the way that social society has changed over the course of time in the film relatively simple. The scene of 'The Apartment' is a brilliant example to convey how mise-en-scene in particular reflects the decaying culture of the City of God. The scene is shot as a montage sequence through a static camera, displaying the evolution and eventual degradation of the apartment, which succinctly represents the way that the favelas have wiped away all sense of femininity. The scene begins by explaining that the apartment was originally owned by a woman, who (it is eventually clear) was the only female ever to reside inside.
The mise-en-scene at the start of the sequence illustrates how the apartment started out as a pleasant, cosy environment; highlighted by the high key lighting and the well-kept, seemingly comfortable and neat furnishings. This use of mise-en-scene could arguably reflect the female influence in a male-dominated society, however the scene that follows where the character of Big Boy forces the woman out of the apartment is almost a forewarning of the treatment of women throughout the remainder of the film. This would also represent the way that the real-life favelas are dominated by the choices that the male gang members have ruthlessly enforced on the inhabitants. From the moment Big Boy takes ownership of the apartment, the audience can see the gradual degradation of the apartment, such as the furniture becoming tatty and worn, the paint peeling off the walls, and the pictures of naked women lining the walls as a replacement for the more motherly influence. These pictures act as a symbol of the rise of male dominance and subsequent female objectification that starts to become increasingly apparent as the film continues whilst also reflecting the realities of human existence in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. Throughout the scene we see ownership of the apartment passed from Big Boy to Carrot, and then finally to Blackie, who is the current tenant when the flashback begins. Where the woman who first owns the apartment appears to be of middle-age, the tenants that follow seem to get younger and younger, which highlights the recurring theme throughout City of God of young people becoming corrupted by conflict and believing they have a duty to rebel.
Study guides for a wide variety of films, including those in the Urban Stories topic, can be found by visiting the Film Education site or using the links below.
Wong Kar Wai has continually
been fascinated with the concept of rootlessness, or perhaps more accurately,
displacement: orphans, adoptees, migrants - they are central to many of his
films. And whilst we can look at Faye Wong’s character and say she is the youth
of Hong Kong, with an identity built on that foundation, WKW has given her a
curiously migratory outlook. Not just in the sense that she wants to go to
California - even when she is back she is ready to leave again for destination
unknown. And when she is at Tony’s apartment, there is an almost cuckoo-like
usage of his home-space: she is in her element, although she knows that she
can’t stay for long. One can see a parallel with the idea of migration and
diaspora: a concept known to many Chinese, particularly those in Hong Kong -
the place having seen human influxes and outfluxes many times. And at the time
of the film, this idea was all the more pressing considering the approach of
1997. In the face of this, what is Faye’s identity? Where is her home (in all
senses of the word) where she can uncover her internal identity? Or is she
inherently a migrant; both rootless and unencumbered? Whilst Faye is the
surface of these concepts, we can apply the same question to the Indian workers
we see in the background - by bringing their culture with them, have they
brought their home, or is that something they have left behind? Are they now
rootless - do they have something to return to, or are they looking ahead?
Wong Kar-Wai has continually been fascinated with the concept of rootlessness, or perhaps more accurately, displacement: orphans, adoptees, migrants - they are central to many of his films. And whilst we can look at Faye Wong’s character and say she is the youth of Hong Kong, with an identity built on that foundation, Wong Kar-Wai has given her a curiously migratory outlook. Not just in the sense that she wants to go to California - even when she is back she is ready to leave again for destination unknown. And when she is at Tony’s apartment, there is an almost cuckoo-like usage of his home-space: she is in her element, although she knows that she can’t stay for long.
One can see a parallel with the idea of migration and diaspora: a concept known to many Chinese, particularly those in Hong Kong - the place having seen human influxes and outfluxes many times. And at the time of the film, this idea was all the more pressing considering the approach of 1997. In the face of this, what is Faye’s identity? Where is her home (in all senses of the word) where she can uncover her internal identity? Or is she inherently a migrant; both rootless and unencumbered? Whilst Faye is the surface of these concepts, we can apply the same question to the Indian workers we see in the background - by bringing their culture with them, have they brought their home, or is that something they have left behind? Are they now rootless - do they have something to return to, or are they looking ahead?
The narrative of Chungking Express comprises two separate and distinct stories. Although they are thematically related, each has its own central characters and locations. (If you look sharply, however, you can catch glimpses of characters from the second part in a few shots in the first.) The first story harks back to the genre action elements of Wong’s first feature, As Tears Go By (1988), while the second section prefigures the romantic yearnings of his later films Happy Together (1997), In the Mood for Love (2000), and 2046 (2004). Ashes of Time, which Wong finally completed shortly after Chungking Express, is also a genre action picture but teeters on the brink of abstraction. (In the revised 2008 version, Ashes of Time Redux, Wong removes some of the stylistic links to genre, making the narrative even more abstract.) And Fallen Angels (1995), which Wong conceived as the third section of Chungking Express but spun off as a separate feature, is a hyperbolic amalgam of gangster violence and mad love, as ungeneric a noir as could be imagined, and not only because the frequent fish-eye-lensed close-ups turn its cast of beauties, male and female, into a bunch of banana noses. Wong’s reputation as an art-house director rests with the three later, increasingly operatic romances—Happy Together, In the Mood for Love, and 2046—in part because genre films have never been fully accepted within the art-film canon, and in part because Wong’s mastery of sensuous polyrhythms and lush visual and aural textures was not as fully developed in the earlier films.
Minimally plotted, each section of Chungking Express focuses on a lovesick cop who pines for his ex-girlfriend until another woman captures his attention. One might venture that the first section, which opens with one of Wong’s signature step-printed chase sequences, this one through the teeming corridors and blind alleys of Chungking Mansions—a warren of flophouses, cut-rate shops, and import-export “businesses” that is a haven to criminals and the poor of all nations—is something of a blind alley itself, one which Wong drops after less than forty minutes in favor of a more promising romantic situation. It’s as if the film itself is looking for love in the same way that its characters are—by trial and error. The protagonist of the first section is a plainclothes cop, officer no. 223 (Kaneshiro), who is seen running hard in that opening chase scene and in another, shorter chase where he makes a collar, pretty much the only exercise of his profession in the film. Mostly what no. 223 does is obsess about his girlfriend, May, who jilted him on April Fools’ Day. No. 223 has given May until May 1, his twenty-fifth birthday, to come back to him. He marks the days of this countdown by buying cans of pineapple (“May loves pineapple,” he tells us in voice-over), each dated to expire on May 1. If she doesn’t call him on his birthday, the relationship will expire as well. It is doubtful that May (whom we never see in the film) knows or, if she did, would care at all about this ultimatum.
But like objects in a dream, the pineapple cans, and their looming sell-by date, condense multiple meanings and associations. May was no. 223’s number-one girlfriend, but he must let go of his love for her (“When did everything start having an expiration date?” he muses) in order to move on to the next stage of his life, a transition marked by his birthday. Then there is the canned pineapple itself, whose mass-produced sweetness is as cloying as the puppy love no. 223 feels. In fact, with May 1 only hours away, he tries to feed some of the syrupy stuff to his dog, who, like May, manifests no interest in such an absurd ritual of devotion. But no. 223’s eating orgy—he downs all thirty cans—transfers his heartache to his tummy, so that in puking up the pineapple he is relieved of the past and immediately fancies himself in love with the next woman he meets.
Chungking Express is a 1994 Hong Kong film written and directed by Wong Kar-wai. The film consists of two stories told in sequence, each about a lovesick Hong Kong policeman mulling over his relationship with a woman. The first story stars Takeshi Kaneshiro as a cop who is obsessed with the break-up of his relationship with a woman named May and his platonic encounter with a mysterious drug smuggler (Brigitte Lin). The second stars Tony Leung as a police officer who is roused from his gloom over the loss of his flight attendant girlfriend (Valerie Chow) by the attentions of a quirky snack bar worker (Faye Wong). The film depicts a paradox in that even though the characters live in densely-packed Hong Kong, they are mostly lonely and live in their own inner worlds.
The Chinese title translates to "Chungking Jungle", referring to the metaphoric concrete jungle of the city, as well as to Chungking Mansions in Tsim Sha Tsui, where much of the first part of the movie is set. The English title refers to Chungking Mansions and the Midnight Express food stall where Faye works.
Plot The movie comprises two different stories, told one after the other, each about a romance involving a policeman. Except for a brief moment when the first story ends and the second begins, the two stories do not interconnect. However, the three main characters from the second story each momentarily appear during the first.
One of the most remarkable aspects of Chungking Express is its visual style. A thousand words could be used to describe this but none of them will ever truly capture Doyle and Wong’s poetry in motion which through truly inspired and unique cinematography achieves something very, very rare. Their distinct hand held style gets them close to the action, so close that no matter what format you view the film in you get a truly honest sense of location; but simultaneously the film is for large sections treats the audience as voyeurs observing these struggling couples from behind a jarred doors, in mirror reflections or from behind a bustling crowd, through this technique there are some excellent uses of deep focus. Along with this they’ve combined a dizzy sense of motion (the shots are rarely static) and dazzling colours, opulent yellows and deep blues, along with many others from a wide spectrum. Although there has clearly been some heavy colour grading it all feels natural; in contradiction with the heavy use of artificial light. It’s almost an hour into the film before we receive our first glimpses of sunlight, and even then it’s very brief. Otherwise it is almost entirely lit from the varying lights of the city, often combining warm and cold light in effective ways: at one point the woman in the blonde wig walks through a red light followed by a blue, followed by another red and so on. This explosively exciting cinematography is matched by Chungking Express’ speedy editing, often jumpcutting scenes and moving to bizarre cutaways, it all breezes by at an extraordinary pace for a film which doesn’t really have many events. Its effervescing style is both deliciously distinctive; elusively hypnotic and captures the beauty of this intoxicating metropolis. If these adjectives seem vague and flakey then I apologise, but honestly no words will suffice; perhaps the best description which others have used is kaleidoscopic.
This aspect is one which helps elevate Chungking Express to masterpiece status. Another aspect is Faye and Cop 663’s unquestionable and unquantifiable sexual chemistry. Faye has a magical energy which once again evades definition or explanation; likewise, Leung’s stiff, ridged but quietly contemplative, sweet, and heart broken Cop 663 contrasts well, but the attraction between them is what makes the film. Even when they’re not in the same room as one and other, the connection can be still felt, and this is what Chungking Express is about, the brief and fleeting connections between people worlds apart in the bustling city state of Hong Kong; connections created between characters who barely know each other. Wong uses all of his narrative restraint in keeping the two stories simple and yet utterly involving. He gives us narration and idiosyncrasies of all the major characters; be it the Woman in the blonde wig’s continual wearing of sunglasses and a raincoat, as she doesn’t know “when it will rain or when it will shine”; Cop 223’s obsessive compulsion - buying tinned pineapples with a May 1st expiry date; Cop 663’s habit of talking to a bar of soap, a towel or even cuddly toys, or Faye’s slightly irritating continual playing of “California Dreaming” by the Mamma’s and the Pappa’s (audiences will be forgiven if they’re a little sick of this song by the time the closing credits role.)
Wong shot the film in a two month lull while the much bigger shoot of Ashes of Time had ground to a hault. He literally shot Chungking Express on-the-run. Never stopping to breath they completed the shoot in chronological order within 24 days; they did this through low-budget and resourceful film making using crew’s houses and flats as locations for the homes of the characters. This guerilla style is part of the method which allowed Wong to capture the kinetic vibrancy of Hong Kong, a bustling street scene is actually shot in a bustling street, a person’s house is actually a person’s house. Night or day, light or dark Wong shot it how it was. Writing the scenes the night before the shoot, the film feels fresh and desultory - because it was, never given time to stagnate everything moves faster than you’ll ever expect.
