Movies and music have always been personal art forms to me, mainly because they're so easy to take and make your own. I'm not saying you can't do that with a painting or a sculpture; you can take plenty of time analyzing either one and form an idea about what the artist was trying to convey. Movies and music, though, go a lot deeper, since the artist is giving you so many levels to read their work on. It's not always about what's on the surface or what you can see; you often have to go somewhere in the mind you're not used to visiting.The great thing about any type of art is that you can interpret it any way you want. True, the artist may have had a particular "meaning" behind what they wanted to project, but you could still see, hear, or feel something completely different, and that difference is where the real beauty comes into play. Conversations are sparked, perspectives are shared, debates arise, and everyone walks away with a point of view they might not have considered before. What truly makes this whole experience worthwhile is the fact that by discussing the art, and by embracing the art, you've taken it and made it your own. That's the essence of art. Once the artist puts it out there, it becomes as much the spectator's (or listener's) as it is the artist's.
Musicians and filmmakers express themselves with different mediums, but that does not mean they don't share the same passions. Look first at U23D, which combines music and film in order to give us the artist's message on multiple levels. The concert movie is, unfortunately, almost obsolete, and I've had a hard time understanding why. Film opens so many doors for live concerts, since filmmakers can give the audience angles and movements they would never be subjected to sitting in a stadium. Plus, cinematography can play a crucial role when putting a concert on film. The director is able to achieve a look that can take the way we see the show to a whole new dimension.
The best concert movies teach us something about the musical artist. In Stop Making Sense, for instance, we learn how the Talking Heads' stage presence is defined by their energy and David Byrne's ability to continually surprise his audience. In Heart of Gold, the venue, the stage setup, and the songs take us into the heart and soul of Neil Young. We gain a clearer understanding of who he is and why music is such an important part of his life. I guess these elements aren't enough to convince the average viewer to make a trip to theater, which is probably why directors Catherine Owens and Mark Pellington decided to format U2's concert movie in 3D.
I thought 3D was a thing of the past. I must admit that I was never very thrilled by it as a child, and thanks (or no thanks) to Robert Rodriguez, who began an attempt to resurrect it in recent years, I was hoping it would disappear again. But digital technology has taken 3D to a new level, because now it looks more real than ever. With the right amount of time and effort, movies can literally appear to be happening right in front of our eyes instead of on a screen. That, precisely, is the effect created by U23D. As the picture opens, we could almost swear we are in the actual audience.
The 3D also allows us to feel like we're part of the band. A good chunk of the picture places us right on stage, underneath guitarist The Edge, or straight in front of singer Bono. It makes U23D the first personal concert movie, since it hardly seems like there's any space between us and them. Whether or not you enjoy U2's music may play a big part in how much you enjoy the picture, but it may not. Like so many others, I grew up on their songs, particularly every track on The Joshua Tree. However, I do think it's possible to get a lot out of U23D even if you don't care a lick about any of the songs. Just step back for a moment and view the picture without even thinking about the music.
I know that may sound crazy, because after all, the music is what defines them. I can say I loved Heart of Gold even though I am not in the least a Neil Young fan. It all goes back to how the picture is shot and how the band portrays themselves. U23D is given a very comfortable atmosphere, with lots of soft colors and the occasional fog. Their stage set up is vast, but Owens and Pellington don't use that as an opportunity to trap us in the frame. Instead, they give the free space a sense of character, not simply by having it awkwardly displayed, but by filling it with visual invention. Sometimes, it might be overlapping images, such as a transparency of a band member who is not onscreen, while other times, it may be what's displayed behind the stage. This is used most effectively during the band's performance of "The Fly."
If you have no desire to pay attention to the music, just watch Bono's body language and the way he sings. So many musical artists sing about things happening in the world, but there are few I can think of who do it with as much conviction as Bono. He is one of the rarities who practices what he preaches, that really believes that he can make a difference if he reaches enough people with his words and ideas (and in the case of U23D, images). Because of this, I have a really hard time when other critics say all you are getting here is a U2 concert. In a sense, yes, but what does that mean? Is it only about the music to you? What does it say as a movie?
U23D was a necessary project for Bono, I think, for thanks to the format, it literally looks as if he is trying to embrace the audience. I have seen the band live once, and I felt more a part of the collective experience this time. I have few doubts and high hopes that U23D (and the recent success of the Hannah Montana 3D concert movie) will revive the dying big screen concert. When you're sitting in the nosebleed section, it's a lot harder to connect with the artist as they deliver their message. It's one thing to hear them, but it's another to see them so you can soak in the full extent of who they are and what the music means to them.
So, if U23D is about taking an artist's music and making it your own (which is what you do every time you sing a song to feel what the artist feels -- just look at the audience in the movie), Be Kind Rewind does it for movies. This marks yet another effort from writer/director Michel Gondry that deals with memories and their importance to us (see also Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Dave Chappelle's Bock Party). The story is simple and all too familiar: Mr. Fletcher (Danny Glover) owns a video store in an old New Jersey neighborhood that is being threatened by evil land developers, but since he only rents VHS tapes at a dollar a pop, he doesn't make enough money to save his property from demolition. Enter his employee Mike (Mos Def) and Mike's kooky best friend Jerry (Jack Black, in usual kooky mode), two dimwits who get into hot water when Jerry accidentally erases all the tapes due to a magnetized brain.
The movie lovingly presents Jerry's process of being magnetized like cheesy '80s science fiction, immediately letting us know Be Kind Rewind wants to exist, as most of Gondry's pictures have, in a world that resides in the mind. Mike and Jerry are desperate, since they actually have customers demanding titles. Mike's idea: reshoot the movies and maybe the viewer will not know the difference if they haven't seen the movie before. The concept is ripe and nostalgic. My parents bought a video camera when I was in my early teens, and I took it as an opportunity to do my own versions of movies I loved using whatever I had around (sometimes it was stuffed animals, other times it was action figures), although a good bit of the time, I had to play all the roles myself.
Just as I did, Mike and Jerry begin remaking the movies in the store based solely on what they remember from watching them some time ago. The results, naturally, are very short films, consisting of what would be considered the crucial moments. As they continue to shoot each movie, it's always the same: action scenes, special effects scenes, death scenes. Gondry seems to be telling us those are the moments that stick with the us the most, and those are the moments we believe others will want to see (what does it say about our culture that we remember a shootout or chase scene over a well written monologue?). Sure enough, the remakes are a hit, Mike and Jerry are celebrities, and eventually, they're reshooting every title in the store.
Be Kind Rewind understands what movies mean to those who love them. The title alone already suggests a personal attachment to movies and why we can't wait to share them with others. The idea of remaking something important might sound cheap when first mentioned, but when we analyze what it really means, it becomes something profound. Movies are special to each person for their own reasons, and a remake is a way for an individual to show why the picture touched them in the first place. If someone was able to reach an audience making a movie, there's no reason why someone else shouldn't be able to do the same thing with the same material in their own way.
There's nothing smug or cruel in the way Mike and Jerry make their movies. If anything, it gives them a chance to break out of their normal, boring lives and be creative and alive and let people know they have a voice and it deserves to be heard. To their surprise, the new movies begin to bring their dying community together -- while many of the people might have only seen the video store as a historical landmark, now it has become a place of significance. This comes into greater play once Mike and Jerry begin to include the whole neighborhood in the movies. People are taking key parts in their favorite movies and turning them into something at once personal, but even more so, special. It also makes movie going an event they can share on multiple levels.
Be Kind Rewind shows us that movies are what we want them to be. It started that way for the filmmaker, so there's no reason why it shouldn't also be that way for us, the viewer. This goes into greatest effect during the picture's final third when the neighborhood realizes they don't need anyone's permission to make a movie from their own point of view. It all reminds me of why I love to get as many people together as I can when I go to see a movie, particularly one I hold dear to my heart and want them to embrace as much as I do. The message of Be Kind Rewind may not be a particularly deep one, but it is an important one. I have a feeling this picture is only going to resonate with those who share movies as an art form worth obsessing about. It's deceptively simple on the surface, but underneath it all is a big heart that beats with an overwhelming amount of artistic integrity.
Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!
Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment