This movie has plenty of themes to it, many that fans debate about to this day, but the main theme I see being exemplified in this particular scene is the evolution of man; more specifically, any of the focal points in life when new knowledge is attained.The monolith that these apes have come across represents gained knowledge.Such learned attributes has brought them to a new level of developmental growth, and this scene conveys that message in a very active tone, as there is no dialogue to guide you literally.
The two aspects of this scene that best illustrate the theme and symbolism at hand are movement and space.Considering the director’s use of space first, it is important to look at the monolith’s placement in every shot in which it is present.The monolith itself, being the center of visual interest for every frame following its introduction, takes up the majority of the screen.Its presence and existence to the apes is mammoth and gargantuan; it is something they have never seen before.The subtext of this message suggests that the monolith represents a new frontier in human knowledge.Just like what it describes, it is at first difficult to comprehend and ominously intimidating.So, to convey this feeling of intimidation and fright, the space is ordered so that this obelisk of mystery takes up as much room as the frame allows.
Movement is the secondary tool used to write out this theme.The apes, in reaction to the monolith, are frantic.At first wake, they are slow to realize what lies in front of them.After a short moment of drowsy awe, they all spring into frenzied chaos over this gigantic protrusion.All of this hustle and bustle of characters further reinforces the theme of man’s reaction to new frontiers.Tension builds as orchestrated music grows more intensely while the apes inspect the statue, instating the apes’ immediate instance of confusion and panic over the news that has come about.Release occurs at the peak of this string and choir section as the camera gazes at the impending eclipse in the sky in line with the obelisk when the music ceases suddenly.This release symbolizes the completion of the process by which the apes have acquired the knowledge.
Here are two different images from the animated movie The Nightmare Before Christmas:
Producer Tim Burton was adamant about the visual appearance of this movie to be primarily associated with darker tones and grim looking, black settings to match the themes of Halloween, ghosts, and monsters. Regarding color, Burton instructed animator Henry Selick to use a variation of hues that rest on the darker side of the palette. Both of these images have an affinity for this aspect; the top image showing a snake that is devouring a tree to be striped black and mustard yellow in a shrouded room, and the bottom image displaying Santa Claus wrapped in a black bag surrounded by a town built out of entirely stone bricks whose color resembles that of bituminous coal. The brightness in both images only serves as whatever contrasts the scene. For instance, the sterling silver Christmas tree in the above frame and Santa Claus’s bright red suit in the bottom are the outliers of each picture. To convey such dark tones, Selick made sure to also saturate these colors to intensify their darkness. This can be seen in the town bricks in the below photo, as well as Santa’s suit; and the above snake’s color, to draw more attention to it.
Since striving for a dark and eerie atmosphere is the goal with this animated film, brightness is a key factor in developing every frame. There is no foreground to be seen in the below image, but shadows are completely apparent in the first picture. The screaming child is enhanced by his shadow, as is the snake and the doorframes. As with all typical symbolism, objects that are lit most brightly are the ones that hold some sort of considerably good or well-being significance. In these images, those brightly lit objects are the Christmas tree (a symbol of togetherness and giving) and Santa Claus (a holiday icon, who stands for the same morals). The Nightmare Before Christmas’s mood can be seen easily within these pictures. As I explained earlier, the central emotion that can be felt during this movie is a sense of dourness and grisliness, as illustrated by consistent dark colors and dimly lit backgrounds.
Here are the first five shots and overhead schematic for the scene I chose from The Dead Zone.
In this particular scene from director David Cronenberg’s The Dead Zone, three people have just entered a room; a father, his son, and Christopher Walken’s character. Usage of the rule of thirds, the 180 degree rule, and the 30 rule are integral here, as this is a conversational beat.
Regarding the 180 degree rule, which states that the line of conversation or action between two subjects cannot be broken by said margin of measurement; the director does a fine job of obeying this cinematic law. The line of action in question here lies between Walken and the father, as they share the only lines spoken in the short scene, and they are directed at one another. The switch in camera angles follows a nearly perfect diagonal line from the two. Also, this rule does not get broken because all the characters in the scene are there from the beginning and no new ones are added, nothing is cut away to, the characters do not walk anywhere, and the camera is stationary at every angle; it does not dolly.
The rule of thirds is obeyed quite flawlessly within these shots. Because the first half of the scene jumps back and forth from Walken’s action and the father and son’s reactions, a lot of medium shots are employed to capture each subject’s visage. None of these medium shots infringe on the rule by avoiding centering the subject in the frame, disallowing a dull or boring image for the viewer. Walken’s medium shot is accompanied by a fern, a side table, a vase, and a windowed door to even out the space. The two closer shots of the father and son also feature external objects to fill out the space such as windowed doors and curtains in the background.
Cronenberg also does a fantastic job of representing the 30 rule. This primarily occurs during the cut back to Walken after he smashes the vase and delivers his dialogue. The camera zooms in on Christopher almost exactly 30% in order to evade having a jump cut take place.
I chose to analyze two songs by the same artist. Here are two songs by the group Archers Of Loaf:
"Let The Loser Melt"
LISTENING PHASE 1 (RHYTHM)
Tempo: Medium
Source: The source is found in the guitarist's repeated paced strumming that sets the course for the rest of the song.
Groove: The rhythm's personality is very relaxed and passionate, as it grows louder as the song's duration continues.
LISTENING PHASE 2 (ARRANGEMENT)
Instrumentation: The guitars, drums, and bass all work together to drive the song in a direction. They all keep a steady pace and hold an essential part in making this song work.
Structure/Organization: For the most part, this song sticks to its original rhythmic pattern of a repetitive 4/4 time signature stomp. The structure of it grows increasingly louder with time.
Emotional Architecture: As mentioned, this song builds up tension until a calm down for the vocals to kick in. Then, a larger build up occurs until the last few seconds and leaves the listener hanging.
LISTENING PHASE 3 (SOUND QUALITY)
Balance ---
Height: This song covers the entire spectrum of frequency for the most part. The bass line occupies the low end, the singer's voice and guitar stand in for middle range, and the lead guitarist reaches into the higher tones with his pickings towards the end.
Width: There are no panning tricks going on in this song; both left and right speakers receive equal sound.
Depth: No certain instrument is mixed louder than the others, they all receive equal prevalence.
"Might"
LISTENING PHASE 1 (RHYTHM)
Tempo: Medium/Fast
Source: The bass isn't present for the entire song, so the rhythm derives from the drums solely.
Groove: This song has a pretty grungy, aggressive groove. A lot of passion is once again shown in the vocals, too.
LISTENING PHASE 2 (ARRANGEMENT)
Instrumentation: While the rhythm is supplied by the drums, the two bursts of guitars and bass that erupt from the refrain really get the song driving.
Structure/Organization: The song is a short one that consists of a verse/refrain/verse/refrain structure.
Emotional Architecture: The verses remain quiet until the refrain which immediately bursts into a raucous, all-encompassing band affair.
LISTENING PHASE 3 (SOUND QUALITY)
Balance ---
Height: Like the previous song, this also covers the spectrum of frequencies with a prevalent guitar and vocals filling in for midrange, and the following bass as a low end with the lead guitarist's screeching riffs sitting on the high end.
Width: Also like the previous song, no panning occurs here. It is all equally balanced between the right and left speakers.
Depth: Once again, no instrument takes precedent over another. The mixing is equal for all aspects of sound.
The lyrics of both of these songs are sung identically.During the verse sections, singer Eric Bachmann keeps fairly quiet until the refrain, where he grows into a harsher, vociferating tone.As for the melody, the “tune” that you hum to yourself after listening to the songs does not stem from Bachmann’s vocals, whereas most songs’ melodies are within the vocal tracks.Instead, Archers Of Loaf’s guitars supply the melodies, and this is true for both songs.
While “Let The Loser Melt” consistently spends its time in a medium rhythm setting, “Might” changes its pace from medium during the verses and quickens to a faster rhythm with the arrival of each chorus.Once again, both songs contain the same level of intensity, both lyrically and instrumentally.They work together to create a harder sound, because once the band starts to build up sudden sound, Bachmann’s vocals become much more intense and invested in the song.Regarding pitch, Eric’s voice sticks to the same range that he is capable of hitting.It never borders on falsetto, but it is not necessarily a baritone range either.He is roughly somewhere in the middle, and these tracks stay at a similar midrange pitch because of it.
Both of these Archers Of Loaf rockers have varying timbre, but in different ways.On “Might,” the complexity begins at a low featuring only the guitar part and drums.Then, Bachmann’s vocals enter.Once the refrain explodes, the remaining bass guitar and lead guitar follow to add much more complexity.That song takes a simple/complex/simple/complex approach.“Let The Loser Melt” is quite different though.The song introduces each instrument to add a higher timbre quality as the duration increases.From the start, there is a drumbeat, quickly accompanied by Bachmann’s guitar.After a few bars of those two at work, the bass track enters.After that, the lead guitar enters, giving four instruments at once achieving different parts.So, this song’s pattern slowly rises: simple/average complexity/complex.Both speeds are relatively played at a middle-of-the-road pace, except for when “Might” gains momentum during its refrains.Their organizational structures, as explained with the timbre, are contrasted greatly because “Let The Loser Melt” is ever-building in its pattern while “Might” maintains a fairly common verse/refrain/verse/refrain framework.
Here is the link to a scene from the movie "The Dead Zone":
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLhFIwkbtJI
I do not have a .pdf Creator or Distiller program, so I could not turn the script translation into one. Instead, I am just copying and pasting what I wrote. I hope this suffices.
FADE IN
INT. MAN'S HOUSE - DAY
CHRISTOPHER WALKEN is standing in a MAN's living room. A sidetable is to his right with a vase sitting on it. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN takes his cane and bats it at the vase. The vase SHATTERS into many pieces. Reacting to this, the MAN and his SON look up to CHRISTOPHER WALKEN.
CHRISTOPHER WALKEN
(shouting)
The ice is gonna break!
FADE OUT
This scene is short and sweet, and is based solely around its sound. I couldn't find a clip on YouTube that was a little bit longer than this, but everything that leads up to the vase smashing is conversation. Walken destroys the vase to grab attention, and the film accomplishes that task very well in this scene.
The Gestalt principle is displayed perfectly in this scene. The vase is in the picture when smashed, and it can be seen breaking and knocking over the sidetable, which establishes figure and ground. Illusion is also employed because Walken may have broken that vase with a cane, but there is absolutely no chance that director David Cronenberg ordered him to stand a foot away from an actual glass vase and recklessly break it. That would be dangerous. Instead, the illusion is presented from a recording that sounded as if Walken smacked the object with his cane and it appeared realistically as if glass shattered into many pieces.
Concerning listening modes, this particular scene does a good job of demonstrating both casual and semantic sound. The casual sound in question is very obvious. At the end of this scene, Walken screams urgently at the man. That sound is actual; he is recorded in yelling that line. As mentioned in the above paragraph, the vase breaking could not possibly be actual and was recorded after this was filmed. Glass shattering was recorded to be representational of what took place in the scene.
Godin speaks of several different layers to reinvent yourself as a creative person. One of these methods is called "acknowledging the lizard." The lizard in question is what Godin refers to as the fragile, easily embarrassed and doubtful part of your brain. He asks that we simply acknowledge its awareness, but push it to the side in order to succeed with our work. Another layer is the opposite of success; failure. We need to be familiar with failure because it is nearly unavoidable and can be overcome easily if met with pride and acceptance. Shipping is another layer that tells us to just create and display our work without care of failure, because we are doing work rather than stalling.
These three particular techniques of creativity that Seth Godin talks about in his manifesto all can relate to the blogging activities that I have been assigned for this class. For one thing, the lizard part of my brainstem referred to in "Brainwashed" is always present when I sit down and type out a new post for an exercise. The primary reason for that is because my blog is by no means personal; it is on public display and can be linked to from my teacher assistant's own blog which all of my fellow lab classmates are connected to as well. All eyes can be on this blog at this very moment, and I may not even know it. Therefore, when I begin to write a new post, that lizard is conscious of what others may think when and if they decide to read my blog's posts. Thoughts run through that easily embarrassed brain area regarding whether the classmates will think my ideas and analyzations are laughable or not. Classmates do not even have to be looking upon this, this is open to the public, so run-of-the-mill internet bloggers and perusers could potentially be reading and gawking. At least, this is how the lizard feels.
I get past that fear with much ease however, because as Godin suggests, I acknowledge that lizard, and immediately press onward. Mainly for the reason that I need to complete the assignments to earn a grade for the class, but also because acknowledging and ignoring the lizard has become an essential element to producing work that is available to the public eye.
Seth makes a good point about the stage of failure, too. Related to a situation such as these blogging assignments; let's say that I had published a new post that was worked on very well, but received a bad grade for missing the point. My best option at that time is to learn from my mistakes and rebound. Failure is natural and unavoidable, so the best thing to do is accept it with dignity and determination for the next project.
Shipping is something I do with these posts because the syllabus actually suggests that I avoid churning them out at the last second. Instead, I try to get these assignments done faster than others may take to get around to it. A benefit of this is that a lot of times, I have completed these before the weekend. That way, I do not have to worry about them. As a creative person, posting these at a steadier pace allows me to think and type with a clearer mind.
Within the first story, the last remaining red wolves are taken into captivity in an effort to preserve their species. After some time, the offspring are let back into the wild. Because that environment is new to them, one wolf named Mumon struggles to adapt and kills his food with shame. In order to learn that hunting is natural, he undergoes a metaphorical experience that ultimately teaches him to "find his inner howl." Essentially, he learns his true self by stepping out of a familiar territory and into a new one that brings about his true character.
Here is a link to Kurt Vonnegut's "Breakfast Of Champions":
Kurt Vonnegut is undoubtedly my favorite author of all time. I have read many of his novels, but one of the more recent books that I have taken the time to read is his successful work entitled "Breakfast Of Champions". I have yet to finish every single written piece that Vonnegut has published, but of the works that I have sampled, this book is by far the man's most abstract, interesting, and creative.
The story is a rather simple one. It involves two men; a car salesman and an aging, unsuccessful science-fiction writer. There is no convoluted or complex plot line regarding these two characters. The only thing that binds them is the author's will, which Vonnegut makes clear to the reader on the first page. That's correct, Kurt Vonnegut addresses the reader of his book at all times. Most authors have a voice in their books by acting as the narrator, or some other type of omniscient or omnipresent being. What occurs in "Breakfast Of Champions," which I have never seen in any other novel, is that Vonnegut chooses to act as not just a narrator, but the very obvious author that he is. At first, it is slightly surreal and odd, because he is very casual about speaking with you as a reader. What amazed me was his range of creative control with this book. He does not stop at being conversational, but he even goes so far as to let the reader in on what he will be writing in the story, and also the reasons to why he wrote it that way.
Now, more often that not, this technique is used for a postmodern, comical effect. After all, postmodernism and dark comedy are Kurt Vonnegut's writing fortes when literature is concerned and he is generally regarded as the master of those two attributes. His approach proves to be quite efficient, but under the surface, he unearths a new creative space for writers and artists alike to explore. Breaking the proverbial fourth wall is intriguing when used in movies, but when it happens in this book, and for the entire length of the story at that, it brings about a change in the boundaries of creativity.
In essence, Vonnegut makes a statement in "Breakfast Of Champions" that claims that there are really no boundaries in which writers, musicians, moviemakers, painters, photographers, or any other type of artist must stray away from. Being a musician and aspiring filmmaker myself, Kurt's novel speaks to me on a very high level. This book both reinforced and practiced the principle of art's endless possibilities. Limits do not exists when tapping into one's creative side. Many other examples of art have also echoed this mantra in their own way, such as Lou Reed's "Metal Machine Music" album which was comprised of only harsh, widely unappealing, metallic clanging sounds and any works of Jackson Pollock, who made artwork by splashing and drizzling paints over a canvas from an above ceiling. There is a litany of others who have followed this creative egalitarianism. Vonnegut's novel in particular drives the point through that the best way to be creative is to tear down all limitations.
