revival at the cinematheque

Cinema needs a structural reformation -- in how it packages itself, in the way it presents itself to us. Seeing Grindhouse in theaters last year drafted a promising outline for this reformation of the cinema experience. But, as mentioned, Grindhouse, conceived by Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, is a rough draft and revisions still need be considered. In concept, Grindhouse is simply a remix -- recapturing and redressing the experience made popular by 60s and 70s movie houses that played B-movies and exploitation films as double and triple-features... mainly out of capital necessity.

The distinction is that Tarantino and Rodriguez (with the help of Eli Roth, Edgar Wright and Rob Zombie) personalized the entire cinematic experience. From the faux trailers to intermission to the actual pictures (Planet Terror and Death Proof), they created a thorough, blanketing cinematic atmosphere to immerse in. So, perhaps, the only modifications to the Grindhouse blueprint is its excessive run-time (191 minutes), and more broadly, that Grindhouse shouldn't be relegated to kitsch appeal and limited to only cineplexes. This can encompass all of cinema. There are already bargain double and triple-feature DVDs selling out there. Why not intentionalize the act, and not just randomly bundle together 3 abandoned, poorly-received popcorn flicks.

Again though, the 3 hrs. 11 min. run-time was exhausting. In this post-ADD era where the profile of short films have climbed and feature-lengths dip under the traditional 90 min. barrier with increasing regularity, even cinema flirting in the 2 hr. zone leans toward overdrawn. And this isn't meant to debase the epic 3 hour narratives, but constructing a concentrated cinematic experience centered around 2 feature-films each running around 45-60 min. in length would enable more efficient, mediated works of cinema and offer the audience a more economical and enveloping adventure complete with connective theme and adornments such as brief behind-the-scenes interviews, faux trailers, etc. ... and all in comfortable 1 hr. 45 minutes. But, the fulcrum relies on the collaboration of auteurs, at least in the onset. Inspired by Three...Extremes, where Fruit Chan, Chan-wook Park and Takashi Miike each offer up a 45 min. segment on the macabre, I imagined going to the cinema and experiencing a Sofia/Roman Coppola double-feature collaboration or a platform showcasing an upcoming auteur coupled with an established artist like P.T. Anderson. Or even embracing our "mash-up" construction, the double-feature could also be David Jacobson's Down in the Valley and Scorsese's Taxi Driver or Wes Anderson's Rushmore and Ashby's Harold and Maude, whatever the auteur sites as his/her fundamental inspiration for the piece.

...As a side note: America, we need to stand up and recognize our true artists -- we may be the only region that rather than celebrate our artists, makes the process more difficult for them.

fleshing it out

The flesh-insecurity theorem:

A hotstove topic over the years has been the depiction of violence in visual media, especially cinema. The graphic exploitation of flesh in American cinema becoming more apparent and explicit in recent years. Overblown whistle-blowers were concerned about the societal ripple effect. I don't completely disagree with them, but I don't agree either. It's the romantic idealist in me that sees it as necessary revelation. Take Tarantino and Eli Roth for example, two primary auteurs of this conversation. Their exaggerated, hyperreal approach to graphic violence actually more honest, and closer to reality than previously before. In Hostel, that's how an Achilles looks when it gets slit. Violence IS graphic. Lurid. This is the key: depicting it in such a kitsch, pornographic way abstracts it, makes it unreal. It makes the viewer only a voyeur, not actionable. This extends to video games. It becomes existentialized, becoming more a vicarious release (though, I do see video games in a more problematic sense - the deprivation of active imagination).

This visual oppression of gore, the mutilated flesh, and the flesh in general, carries a simpler intonation in us: fear of mortality, imperfection. As with any thing that reminds us of this, we insecurely subjugate it. But, I compare works like Grindhouse and Hostel to the transition being expressed in pugilistic entertainment. The transition from contrived, insincere violence (WWE) to fighting that carries real consequence, the mixed martial arts of UFC.

As exploitative and grotesque as may seem, this honest visualization of the flesh has allowed for the most profound human act to finally be sincerely celebrated: the female giving birth to child. Before it was always close-up on woman -hair perfectly styled, make-up newly applied- whimsically pushing, then cut to: Whoosh! pleasant, little bundle of joy gift-wrapped directly from the heavens. No sweat, no struggle, no signs of an umbilical chord, no beauty. In recent years, however, we have finally seen the true beauty of childbirth. Messy, harrowing, and heroic. To name a few works that celebrate this beautiful struggle: Children of Men, Knocked Up, and Eastern Promises.