Sunday, December 14, 2014

Symbolism: The Seventh Seal

"Who will take care of that child? Is it the angels or God or Satan or just emptiness?" Jöns

During the mid-fourteenth century, knight Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) and his squire Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand) have finished their crusade in the Holy Land and return to their homeland of Sweden to find it devastated by the bubonic plague. Block challenges Death (Bengt Ekerot) to a game of chess, hoping to buy some time before he himself is taken. The man desires knowledge of the afterlife (a wee bit like good ol' Doc Faustus), believing that his life has been pointless and that God is, if not uncaring, then unfairly silent. As they journey to Block's castle, the duo run into a troupe of performers, a procession of flagellants, and masses of terrified of villagers—some of whom join Block's entourage as he makes his way home and tries to escape the reach of the black death and an impending apocalypse.

This 1957 film by Ingmar Bergman (based on his own play entitled Wood Painting), is widely known for being philosophical and contains such themes as the silence of a 'Divine Being', the indifference of death, the meaning of human existence, et cetera. Because of its use of motifs, I thought it pertinent to do a post on symbolism present in The Seventh Seal. If you are unaware, a symbol is a thing that stands for something else—especially a material object that represents something abstract.

Not Rated. I would say at least PG for portrayals of death and implications of rape.
Amazing poster by artist Jim Perez, taken from here.

The number seven: The title of the film refers to a passage from the Book of Revelation in Christian eschatology. It is used both at the beginning and near the end of the story, each time emphasizing the number seven. That seems to be a popular digit in the Bible (used no less than seven hundred thirty-five times throughout—fifty-four in Revelations alone). In the context of the film, it is introduced thusly:

And when the Lamb broke the seventh seal,
there was silence in heaven for about the space of half an hour.
And I saw the seven angels which stood before God;
and to them were given seven trumpets.

According to BibleStudy.org, "seven is the number of completeness and perfection (both physical and spiritual). It derives much of its meaning from being tied directly to God’s creation of all things." I found this interesting, as the film's focus seems to be more on destruction. A genius parallel made by Bergman? Both Block and Jöns speak of mirroring themselves, and creation v. destruction is a perfect duality reflected in all aspects of life. Anyhow, the 'breaking' of the seven seals is meant to bring on the apocalypse, and the only one deemed worthy of opening the book/scroll that is held shut by the seals is a "Lamb having seven horns and seven eyes." To the characters in this story—and to those who lived during that time in history—surely the arrival of such a plague would have made it seem as though the end was nigh and punishment from their God was imminent.

Crows: This symbol stretches well outside the confines of the film and into both folk tradition and pop culture. Most obviously, perhaps, crows represent death as they are scavengers that feed off of the freshly fallen. Their black colour paints them as harbingers of evil and allies of the occult. Throughout history, people have looked upon crows as masqued holders of both great secrets and memories of ancient ways. The very first shot in The Seventh Seal is of a cloudy sky, a crow streaking across the heavens.

The sea: Block and Jöns arrive in their native land on a beach. This is also where the former first encounters the personification of Death and where the travelling acrobats take refuge at the end of the film. The ocean symbolizes travela journey—as well as earth's primality. As I recently learned in an Asian studies/humanities course, water is also a form of purification...though I am not sure if the same understanding is held in Western European countries where, in the middle ages, many pious individuals refused to bathe as they believed it to invite sinfulness andironicallydisease. At any rate, Block washes his face with sea water and prays next to the waves, so he must have felt something divine at such a locale. (For those interested, these scenes were shot at Hovs Hallar in north-western Scania.)

One of the flagellants grasping a human skull. Kudos to the props dept...I've seen worse.

Black & White: Colours should also be taken into consideration when analyzing symbols. These two are especially important not only because The Seventh Seal is filmed sans colour so as to better highlight the striking contrast, but also because of the game of chess between Block and Death. The board and the pieces are clearly defined, illustrating the difference between what some perceive as good v. evil. When first choosing their sides Block remarks, "You have black," to which Death responds, "It's most appropriate, isn't it?" It is also worth noting that whilst Death is clad in a pure black cloak his visage is stark white like a skull. I choose to interpret this particular symbolism as follows: we all die, our flesh fading to cartilage, our consciousness turning to nothingness. Deep, eh?

Travel: Life is transitory. The characters in this film move from one place to the next only to reach their final destination in death.

Religion: 'Protection' from death. Priests act as fearmongers, going so far as to commission a painting of the dance of death to "remind people they will die," and hiring the troupe of performers to put on a play during an All Saints Festival in Elsinore that will drive more people to repent for their sins. Even Block makes a confession to someone whom he thinks is a holy man, only later finding out that it is Death in disguise. The reaper infiltrates all aspects of life—religion is naught but a construct to fend off our innate fears.

Omens of the Last Day: Medieval villagers tend to be a little superstitious. To be fair, I would be too if "a woman gave birth to a calf" or if people had "cleaned themselves by fire and died." That's some dark juju. One of my favourite aspects of learning history has to do with understanding the mentality of a society, something which is often tied to belief systems and the intersection of faith with daily life. While this film is more allegorical rather than historically accurate (esp. given that the last Swedish Crusade took place in the late 1200s and the plague didn't hit until half a century later, or that large scale witch hunts didn't begin until the 1400s), each character's reaction to his or her circumstance was believable enough to be appreciated.

Names: "Antonius" is Swedish in origin and means "priceless," much like life, as he discovers. Mia (Bibi Andersson), the female travelling performer whom Block becomes somewhat protective of, also goes by the name of Mary (as in the Virgin mother). To get back into colour symbolism for a moment, Mia wears white: something that is internationally recognized as purity. Her husband, Jof (Nils Poppe), is sometimes referred to as "Joseph." Biblical references abound. Spoiler: They and their infant son Mikael (AKA "Gift from God") are the only ones to survive. [Oh, by the way, that seven-horned, seven-eyed lamb from earlier? "Rachel" is Hebrew for "ewe." Just sayin'. o_o]

"I am unknowing." —Death

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Sunday, November 2, 2014

Animation, Music, and Title Sequences: A Cat in Paris

"In Paris, a cat who lives a secret life as a cat burglar's aide must come to the rescue of Zoe, the little girl he lives with, after she falls into a gangster's clutches."
—IMDB's description of A Cat in Paris (AKA Une vie de chat)

Rated PG for mild violence and action, plus some thematic material.

The creative team who put this film together did an excellent job combining animation (the style a mix of Cubism and Art Deco) with a jazzy, noir-esque OST. A snippet of this can be seen/heard in the title sequence in the below video. I just spent the last half hour trying to figure out specific HTML coding hijinks required by Blogger which would allow me to set the start and end time for this video, but my tech skills are apparently lacking. Skip to 2:13 and watch until 3:09 to see the title sequence.

The use of colour also helps set the tone.

This film has greatly increased my appreciation for animation as a serious form of storytelling. From the end of the nineties up until now, I have found that most forms of drawn or computer generated animationat least in the Western Hemispheretend to be light-hearted (The Triplets of Belleville and The Iron Giant are both obvious exceptions to the rule). Cartoons out of the '30s thru to the '60s were oftentimes quite creepy or incredibly violent (I'm looking at you, Disney and Warner Bros.). The '80s saw a regression into that same sort of darkness with films like The Brave Little Toaster and The Land Before Time...both of which I am sure will let loose some repressed nightmares tonight as I sleep. Such strolls through the uncanny valley aren't exactly my cup of tea.

I prefer animated films not for their superficiality but for being fantastical with a touch of realism. A Cat in Paris pulls this off by including a few of those 'darker' facets of life and portraying them in a not-so-fearsome light. Child abduction? Sure. Graphic child abuse? Hell no. Pets that protect their human companions? Sounds great. Animals that maul people? Not so much. The above may be construed as hypocritical as I adamantly believe in free speech/free art, but while I do not think any animated films should cease to exist simply because I do not agree with their storytelling techniques on a personal level, that does not mean I have to enjoy watching them...or, indeed, even watch them at all.

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Monday, October 20, 2014

Comparison: The Devil's Backbone & Pan's Labyrinth

Halloween, my favourite holiday, is just around the bend. In honour of the age old end-of-harvest festival, I decided to watch a horror movie—for you, dear readers, for you. I, er...I don't like that particular film genre. At all. Bit of a wuss, when it comes right down to it. Being that the film in question was Guillermo del Toro’s The Devils's Backbone, though, I was more than willing to make an exception.

[Tangent: The same was true for Don't Be Afraid of the Dark when it first came out in cinemas back in 2010, and that turned out to be a big steaming pile of...well, it wasn't very good. The whole thing with the teeth supplied a week's worth of nightmare fuel. Still, it might be worth writing about the sheer fairy tale-esqueness present in a lot of del Toro's works. For instance, remember my "Ofelia & Little Red Riding Hood" post? Couldn't help but notice Sally fulfills the same role, as does Carlos from TDB. Another blog for another time, perhaps.]

During my viewing of The Devil's Backbone (2001), I noticed how many similarities it shares with Pan's Labyrinth (2006), so onto the comparison! Spoilers ahoy. Also, see my original post on PL here.

Both rated R for violence, language, and (in TDB) some sexuality.

Plot Overview

The Devil's Backbone: The story revolves around a young orphaned boy named Carlos (Fernando Tielve) whose father was recently killed during the ongoing Spanish Civil War. Forced to stay at a destitute orphanage, Carlos comes across "The One Who Sighs," AKA the ghost of the drowned Santi (Junio Valverde) who warns that "many of you will die." Uncovering Santi's murderer and a plot to steal Republican gold, Carlos bands together with his teachers and fellow orphans to rid the place of evil.

Pan's Labyrinth: Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) travels to the Spanish countryside with her pregnant mother (Ariadna Gil) where they will stay with her new stepfather, the cruel Captain Vidal (Sergi López). Once there, she encounters a fantastical world and her true identity as Princess Moanna. She must undergo trials both real and figmental in order to make her way back to the Underworld Kingdom.

Notable similarities: Both plots have to do with children thrown into worlds with which they are unfamiliar and unhappy. Carlos and Ofelia's fathers are dead, each child exists in a world with supernatural tendencies, and both are made to do 'adult' things on their own. Each film carries a not-so-subtle dose of political and religious conflict, as well.

Setting

The Devil's Backbone: An orphanage in the middle of what looks like a desert in Spain during the civil war. The place is run down and spectacularly eerie, especially in the Pit where Santi hangs out, or even the courtyard with the big ol' defunct missile planted nose-first in the dirt. Everything has an amber tone, calling back the title sequence where Santi's blood fills the clay-rich water deposit and makes it look as though he is either frozen in amber or floating in amniotic fluid (like Dr. Casares' 'limbo water'). Gross, del Toro, gross.

Pan's Labyrinth: This one takes place just after the war. Ofelia is taken to an old mill house situated in a lush forest that is also home to an ancient labyrinth and, via a chalk-drawn door, the Pale Man's lair. One word: disturbing. Most every scene is tinted with green which helps get across a feeling of almost sacred nature. You should have left that part of the world untouched, Vidal.

Notable similarities: Carlos and Ofelia are driven to their respective new homes; you know, in a car. With the former there is a sense of entering into utter isolation while the latter gives audiences the impression that there are plenty of creatures hiding just out of sight.

Jacinto & Vidal looking a bit the worse for wear.

Characters

The Devil's Backbone: Apart from Carlos and Santi, there are a slew of other parentless boys including opponent-turned-friend Jaime (Íñigo Garcés). Other important characters include the amputee mistress of the orphanage, Carmen (Marisa Paredes), the incredibly loyal and poetic Dr. Casares (Federico Luppi), ever-dedicated Conchita (Irena Visedo), and the dubious Jacinto (Eduardo Noriega). ♪ Guess which one's the baaaadie... ♫

Pan's Labyrinth: The guerrillas who fight against the Captain and his men are themselves like orphans, in a way. As for main characters, who can forget Mercedes (Maribel Verdú)? Once Ofelia's mother dies, this strong woman steps in and shows her true colours as a rebel loyalist. Then there are the preternatural beings of the film, including the faun and the Pale Man (both portrayed by Doug Jones). Ofelia's baby brother also plays a pivotal role.

Notable similarities: There is not one character lacking complexity. Oddly, the matriarchal figures in both stories are named Carmen, each film contains a kindhearted doctor, and the villainous arseholes are off the scale when it comes to acts of evil.

Style

Notable similarities: The set design is accurate for each respective time period and does its job in supplying shivers. The same goes for costuming and the incredible makeup. Santi is a truly terrifying little kid given his zombie-like appearance, cracked skull, and, er...blood plume. Don't even get me started on why the Pale Man is one of the scariest movie monsters of all time. As for SFX, Pan's Labyrinth has a bit of a leg up given that it came out five years after TDB, but del Toro was smart and did not overdo anything so as to make it look campy. The musical score ups the creep factor in every way imaginable.

Jesus H Christ.

Symbolism

Notable similarities: Containing not so much iconic imagery as meaningful actions, both films feature a 'descent' by the protagonist into the unknown. Audiences' hearts race with the characters as there are two distinct 'My sole salvation lies just...out of...reach!' scenes, seemingly miles of dark, horrifying hallways, and main baddies who are brought down by their own egos and greed.

Conclusion

The Devil's Backbone: Happy/sad, highlighting the happy. The villain gets his and, while Santi's death toll predictions were correct, the remaining survivors leave the orphanage. Waving goodbye is the ghost of an old ally... "Europe is sick with fear, and fear sickens the soul." Dr. Casares

Pan's Labyrinth: Happy/sad, highlighting the sad. Vidal meets his end, but so does Ofelia. While she makes it to her Underground Kingdom and is surrounded by those she loves, the audience is left wondering if it was all just in her head.

Tearjerker Moments

The Devil's Backbone:
"Stay by my side as my light grows dim / as my blood slows down and my nerves shatter with stabbing pain / as my heart grows weak / and the wheels of my being turn slowly / Stay by my side / as my fragile body is racked by pain / which verges on truth / and manic time / continues scattering dust / and furious life bursts out in flames / Stay by my side / as I fade / so you can point to the end of my struggle / and the twilight of eternal days / at the low, dark edge of life..."
Pan's Labyrinth: When the Doctor (Álex Angulo) euthanizes the stutterer El Tarta (Ivan Massagué).

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Saturday, September 20, 2014

Lighting: Cracks

Context? Nah. I present a post in pictures.


Eva Green as the enigmatic Miss G.
Backlit by a grey, clouded sky that emphasizes her solitude.
Miss G again on her own, this time at the gates of the boarding school.
Little to no lighting gives strength to the atmospherically rainy weather.
Click-clacking her heels between the pews,
not caring that she is late to the morning's prayer session.
Her placement draws attention and lets viewers know just how little this character gives a fuck.
A little backlighting from the stained glass windows

highlights her intruding presence even more so.
Miss G stands amongst her favoured students.
Her placement within the shot separates her from the rest of the group,
as they are bathed in light (innocence) while she alone stands in shadow (hidden agenda).
As in the previous shot, the students appear to have a heavenly glow about them.
The rest of Miss G's room—untouched by the sun's rays—seems to entrap the girls.
Even their uniform frocks 
subtly blend with the surroundings.
The elite 'circle' of friends caught in one of the rare periods
in which they are content with one another.
Everything is naturally lit, making the scene a peaceful one as the girls soak up the sun.
Dressed up for their St. Agnes Eve feast.
The girls blend their 1930s fashion with flowers reminiscent of Keats' romanticism.
This feeling is also aided by the warm, lightly-honeyed lighting.
Renegades skinny-dipping by the light of the moon.
The underwater shots in this scene give everything a magical look,
especially in contrast with the rest of the film.
A foreigner to England, Fiamma (here played by María Valverde) reads alone in the stables.
The light source is opposite, covering her but also creating a shadow along the wall.
The symbolism of the barred stalls speaks volumes, too.
Poppy (Imogen Poots) looking through a crack. What she sees is terrible...
as viewers are encouraged to think given the dim lighting and the pinpoint reflection in her eye.

If I were forced to describe the film in one sentence or less, I would say that it is a pristine example of that iffy place between being a child and an adult.

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