Rediscovering Tragic Film

One of German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's early works was called The Birth of Tragedy. Taking his cues from classical Greek tragedy, he presented modern (19th century) readers with the idea that tragedy is "an art form that transcends the pessimism and nihilism of a fundamentally meaningless world."* Spectators, by looking deeply into the depths of human sorrow, were affirmed in their own existence, and thus could see themselves not simply as petty peons in a pointless existence but as fuller, more complex persons.

Many there are who misunderstand tragedy in the arts. Hence the films we entertain ourselves with often tend to have tidy upbeat endings, such as the Hollywood version of The Natural, which produces a heroic end rather than the tragic one played out in the book.

This conflict regarding how to end films in Hollywood is a comical undercurrent in The Player, with Tim Robbins (1992). So it is that an analysis of the top 250 films of all time in most lists will reveal that tragic stories are a small minority.

Last night in a periodical called The City I read a fascinating essay by Paul D. Miller called Rediscovering Tragic Film, dealing with the films of Christopher Nolan. Nolan's name is no doubt familiar to movie buffs because he seems to be really connecting with the films he's been cranking out, most recently Inception starring Leonardo DiCaprio. It was probably Memento that first caught the public's attention, and a string of hits have followed including Batman Begins, The Prestige, The Dark Night. Miller notes that five of Nolan's six big films are are built around the elements of tragedy, yet the sum total of these films has generated 2.5 billion dollars in revenue, no small potatoes.

Miller writes, "A tragic plot is especially effective if it incorporates four elements: necessity, surprise, reversal, and recognition. Aristotle argues that the plot must proceed along a necessary chain of cause and effect, not by chance or randomness. 'The effect is heightened when, at the same time, [the outcome] follows as cause and effect,' because the tragic conclusion could not have been otherwise. A terrible but random event -- say, an earthquake -- inspires pity but also detachment, while a terrible event resulting from human choices and happenings that followed necessarily from them are terrifying because we can see how it could happen to us."

So it is that Chinatown, a Roman Polanski masterpiece, (spoiler here if you have not seen this movie) captivates us with its surprises, reversals and the plodding inevitability of its tragic end. Jack Nicholson sees it all coming, sees his part in the destruction and sees, in retrospect, how it all happened.

According to Dr. Miller, Nolan's successes as a director and screenwriter reveal a thirst amongst movie-goers for real stories. "Real stories," he writes, "are ones that reflect true things about life, human nature, and the world we live in. Most films depict cardboard charicatures, not human beings, and take place in a fantasy world where good always triumphs. That Nolan's films make money and win praise shows that movie-goers sense something true in them."

Though I was unable to find this essay onling at the moment, a Google search can lead you to more of Dr. Miller's work. This essay was satisfying and thought provoking.

The City is a publication of Houston Baptist University.

*Wikipedia

The End of the Affair

The inevitable finally happened yesterday. “General Motors filed for bankruptcy protection Monday as part of the Obama administration's plan to shrink the automaker to a sustainable size and give a majority ownership stake to the federal government. GM's bankruptcy filing is the fourth-largest in U.S. history and the largest for an industrial company. The company said it has $172.81 billion in debt and $82.29 billion in assets.” 172 billion in debt. Holy smackdown, Batman. Sad thing is that they were going backwards, too.

There were a lot of folks scratching their heads about the implications of this. Can the government really run a car manufacturer? What I seem to recall when this option was first being discussed is that it would be a "temporary" takeover till the automaker got on its feet again. What waits to be seen is exactly how temporary this will be.

I suppose they'll re-tool now to make earth friendlier vehicles that ivory tower types will say are good for us. Then they will pass laws that make it hard for us to afford the vehicles we currently drive. Those new cars won't be cheap, but they will be good for us.

Actually, I'm not going to predict tomorrow on this one. Instead I'll simply watch from the bleachers. With skepticism. All I know is that I'm glad I don't have to hold the reins. I don't want to be responsible.

This weekend, P.J. O'Rourke published a poignant piece of entertaining commentary on the matter which appeared in the Wall Street Journal. I want to apologize for any few cheap shots I took at O'Rourke on The Wealth of Nations in my essay Wooden Teeth & Romantic Scandals last Friday. Truthfully, I have enjoyed (from time to time when I stumble upon it) O'Rourke's incisive wit over the years and his essay The End of the Affair in the WSJ shows why.

The phrase “bankrupt General Motors,” which we expect to hear uttered on Monday, leaves Americans my age in economic shock. The words are as melodramatic as “Mom’s nude photos.” And, indeed, if we want to understand what doomed the American automobile, we should give up on economics and turn to melodrama.

Politicians, journalists, financial analysts and other purveyors of banality have been looking at cars as if a convertible were a business. Fire the MBAs and hire a poet. The fate of Detroit isn’t a matter of financial crisis, foreign competition, corporate greed, union intransigence, energy costs or measuring the shoe size of the footprints in the carbon. It’s a tragic romance—unleashed passions, titanic clashes, lost love and wild horses.

It's an essay I recommend vigorously.

I especially like the title of the essay, with its reference to Graham Greene's novel of the same. Greene's is, of course, about an affair between a man and a woman. Greene writes the book from the point of view of a man who is clueless so that the reader understands what the writer does not.

Truth is, anyone half paying attention could see that GM was on a doomed ride. But I doubt they could have predicted it would end this way.

Narcissus

License to Kill
by Bob Dylan

Man thinks 'cause he rules the earth he can do with it as he please
and if things don't change soon, he will.
For a man has invented his doom,
first step was touching the moon.
Now there's a woman on my block,
she just sits there as the night grows still,
and says, "Who is gonna take away his license to kill?"

Now they take him, and they teach him, and they groom him for life,
and they set him on a path where he's bound to get ill,
and they bury him with stars, sell his body like they do used cars,
and there's a woman on my block,
she just sits there facin' the hill,
and she says, "Who is gonna take away his license to kill?"

Now he's heading for destruction, he's afraid and confused
and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill,
now all he believes are his eyes and his eyes they just tell him lies.
And there's a woman on my block,
sitting there in a cold chill,
she says, "Who is gonna take away his license to kill?"

Now he worships at an altar with a stagnant pool
and when he sees his reflection he's fulfilled;
for a man is opposed to fair play,
he wants it all and he wants it his way.
Now there's a woman on my block,
she just sits there as the night grows still,
she says, "Who is gonna take away his license to kill?"

****

License to Kill appeared on Dylan's Infidels album, side one. The image in the last stanza is ever so poignant, a portrait of Narcissus, the self-admiring Greek hero re-knowned for his beauty. Dylan takes it further. The vain, self-possessed portrait here is a symbol for elite, self-worshipping humanity, who "wants it all and he wants it his way."


I can't help think of Oscar Wilde's twist on this self-same story, titled The Disciple which appeared in his collection of short stories called Fairy Tales. It is interesting to compare and contrast the ways in which the two artists, Dylan and Wilde, create new images from the classic myth.

The Disciple

When Narcissus died, the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort.

And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair, and cried to the pool, and said: "We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he."

"But was Narcissus beautiful?" said the pool

"Who should know better than you?" answered the Oreads. "Us did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty."

And the pool answered: "But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw my own beauty mirrored."

Cassandra’s Dream

Just finished watching Woody Allen’s most recent release, Cassandra’s Dream, starring Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor, among others. There are many great facets of the film, including the superfine way Allen creates fully developed characters with a minimal number of brushstrokes. He’s a master in this regard.

A follow up to Match Point, the film has the same seriousness, setting (England), ironies, and mix of characters with their different generational viewpoints and motivations. The characters are transparent to the viewer, but not to one another. In this regard, the screen writing is brilliant.

It is a story of two brothers -- and their love interests as well as family ties -- who have character flaws. Each has dreams that require money, and each seems intent on escaping the responsibilities of the family business to pursue what are patently foolish paths. At one point the brothers reminded me of some of Elmore Leonard’s criminals who are both smart and foolish. The outcome of the film was from the beginning self-evident, why could they not see it coming? Yet people do these kinds of things all the time. The music track alone tells you this is a tragedy and going to have a bad ending.

I did have a problem with the Phillip Glass soundtrack on one level. Yes, it worked well in this film, but for me it evoked The Illusionist. If someone pointed this out (and someone must have) I can picture Allen saying, “That’ll work. Not that many people will have seen both films.” Or something to that effect.

That may be the one weakness of the film, not the music, but the decision to not push something to another level. Mr. Allen’s philosophy of film making is not to produce great art. It is to get the stories out. He is undoubtedly filled with stories, and simply doesn’t waste time on time consuming details. Or so it seems.

For this reason, despite the fabulous acting and great dialogue, crisp character development and tight story, the movie might not receive its share of critical acclaim. But then, in reading his book Woody Allen on Woody Allen, he owns up to the fact that he is not striving to be Bergman or Fellini. He does not wish the comparison to be even made. He is simply a man who loved the movies, and who has lived out his dream of being able to make movies. Ultimately, he probably doesn’t really care what the critics think, which is a nice place to be if you can get there.

In the end, I would have re-shot at least two or three moments in the film that should have been re-shot to “get it right.” Though maybe in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter. There is much to like here with its echoes of Greek tragedy and other classic moments in literature. (The scene in the bedroom felt eerily close to the problem Raskalnikov encountered in Crime & Punishment, undoubtedly intentional.)

The film has sensuousness as a theme with almost none of the usual Hollywood demonstrativeness. It hints, rather than reveals.

The title for the film comes from the name of a boat which the brothers buy. The name Cassandra is taken from mythical Greek tragedy. Cassandra was loved by Apollo, but ended up being cursed by him when she did not return his love. Her gift of being able to foresee the future was forever a source of pain and frustration for her. The viewer of this film, like Cassandra, knows from the first that things will turn out bad, but can do nothing to stop it.

As is often the case, “The best laid plans of mice and men do often go awry.” Or to quote a maxim of my own, “We tend to get what we want, but we usually get more than we bargained for.”