The Cabin In The Woods--Deconstructing Horror

Horror in film dates back to the silent era with films like Nosferatu. The genre has evolved in the many years since then, and like many specific genres, a pattern emerges. The Cabin In The Woods milks this genre like no other. The film starts out with five friends—the alpha male jock, the whore, the brain, the fool, and the virgin—heading into the woods to spend a weekend in a mysterious cabin. On the way, they must drive down an uncharted road where they meet a strange hermit who “practically wears a sign saying ‘YOU WILL DIE’,” But they choose to ignore him and continue on to the cabin. At night, they find a mysterious trap door that leads them into a room filled with strange items. All of them examine an item, but the virgin reads aloud a Latin text from a leather-bound diary, waking a family of zombies buried in the backyard. Soon the alpha male and the whore leave the cabin to have sex in the woods, but the whore is shortly decapitated by one of the zombies. The alpha male is injured, but makes it back the cabin, where he quickly orders everyone to split up. The zombies continue to kill them one by one until only the virgin is left.

Yes, this is exactly what happens in The Cabin In The Woods, but the title should be a giveaway that this film knows exactly how to handle its clichés. Throughout the story of the five friends in the woods, the audience realizes that scientists in a control room underneath the cabin are manipulating all the events occurring to the friends. Nothing that happens is by accident. All five friends are oblivious what is really occurring to them, except on occasion, the fool, a conspiracy theorist, takes note of certain things such as the wind blowing up a trap door leading to a basement cellar (“uh…that makes what kind of sense?”).

None of it is meant to be creative. Everything that happens to these five friends is perfectly predictable. Of course it is. Scientists watching them via hidden cameras are controlling them. Writers Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard knew exactly what they were doing when they wrote this story. You might know Whedon and Goddard as the writers of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  Goddard also wrote things such as Lost and Cloverfield (because that wasn’t a cliché script).

The predictable story of the friends is always referred to.  The scientist make small talk while they watch the friends get tortured by a Zombie Redneck Torture Family, which quickly reveals how conscious the writing is of the weariness of the entire horror genre. A new security guard asks the question, “Monsters, magic, gods?” to which a more experience employee responds, “You get used to it.” The security guard responds, “Should you?”

That is definitely the question. Should we be getting used to the unpredictable? There is a fear of the unknown, and suspense is an important aspect to horror as well. Should we be used to all these monsters? Zombies, clowns, ghosts, crazed mass murders…the horror genre has made these monsters so formulaic that there isn’t anything particularly interesting about them at all. As we watch Jules, the whore, get decapitated by one of the zombies, we can’t help but snicker to ourselves, because we knew she had it coming. And then the camera cuts to the scientists watching from a screen in the control room, snickering in a similar manner to us.

Even the way films are meant to entertain us are formulaic. We expect the whore to have sex with the alpha male. We know we’re going to see her breasts. Of course, Whedon and Goddard cut to the scientists cheering her on as she strips. But the security guard has to ask, “Does it really matter if we see her…” and one of them responds, “we’re not the only ones watching. Gotta keep the customer satisfied.”

Ultimately, the catch is that these scientists are part of group that has to make a sacrifice of four people a year (a virgin is optional, as long as she dies last) to the slumbering gods in order to keep them from destroying the planet. The metaphor is obvious yet very clever. The gods are the studio executives in the film industry, kept far away in their offices. The second a film strays too far from the formula laid down by them, they awake and wreak havoc on the director and the rest of the world.

What Goddard and Whedon have done is to truly deconstruct the horror genre and destroy. It would be a long shot to even call The Cabin In The Woods a horror film. It’s more of an anti-horror film. Goddard guides you through the organs of the horror film genre, and reveals its predictability. It shows you there truly isn’t anything to ever fear, because the victims will always make the worst decisions possible. Perhaps one of the cleverest scenes is in the cellar, when all five friends are examining various horror movie artifacts. The trap door opens a la Evil Dead and all five walk down to a cellar. The fool holds up a lantern in a similar manner to Bruce Campbell in Evil Dead and everyone begins to examine the artifacts. A conch presumably awakes a sea creature, a music box an evil ballerina, a pendant on a necklace perhaps an evil ghost coming to reclaim a forgotten heirloom. In the end it’s a strange Latin text from a diary that awakens zombies, yet any monsters could be chosen.

Cabin In The Woods is an absolute thrill. The brilliance of the clichés leads to a whole new level of unpredictability that ingeniously draws your attention to the redundancy of most horror films. Hopefully this introspective on the horror genre manages to stir the pot in terms of storytelling. Regardless, this is a film that YOU MUST NOT MISS.

Everything is a Remix

Creativity is dying, and the laws made to protect it are killing it.  This is the central thesis to the four-part web series “Everything is a Remix” by Kirby Ferguson. “Everything is a Remix” is a series of videos that break down various films and music to reveal how they have been influenced by the creative works of others. In the first part, Ferguson breaks down Led Zeppelin, revealing how blatant a role influence plays in their music, and then showing bands that Led Zeppelin influenced. 

Ferguson continues in the second part, this time talking about film. His focus is on George Lucas, and how he was influenced and then his role in influencing the film industry. Ferguson makes a note on how Quentin Tarantino sits on the throne of remixing other peoples work. At this point, Ferguson raises the intriguing question: although it’s not an original work, does that mean it isn’t creative? Does remixing other people’s creative works makes something of less worth? As Isaac Newton once said, “I have seen further by standing on the shoulders of giants.”  Nobody can present a new idea without copying, transforming, and combining the ideas of many other people.

In the third part, Ferguson moves out of the entertainment industry and begins to explain “remixing” in inventions. The typewriter has influences from the way piano keys work. The printing press would have never been invented if paper, ink, moveable type and screw press had not existed beforehand.

The fourth part pulls it all together in one brilliant stroke.  With so many ideas being “stolen” in order to create new stronger ideas, why aren’t these people suing each the hell out of each other?  Well, they are now. Steve Jobs might admit that Apple was created on the foundations of ideas from Xerox, and has stolen concepts from many different companies since it’s creation, but the moment Android becomes a threat to the iPhone, Jobs declares war on the “stolen product.” Even worse, intellectual property laws make it easy to gain legal protection for something that you could invent, but haven’t bothered to build. This leads to companies doing something called “opportunistic litigation,” suing to make a buck. There are whole companies based on the idea that they could own patents on things that don’t exist, and suing people who present similar ideas. Ferguson argues this is a major block for any progress forward in creativity. The laws that allow this to happen were created to promote progress, not inhibit it.

Overall, “Everything is a Remix” is brilliantly put together. It’s very well structured to keep you involved as you watch the 45-minute series.  Ferguson also supplies references on his website, everythingisaremix.info, giving his documentary series a high level of credibility. The series is also very visually appealing, using images and video clips in a well-edited montage. This insightful series is a must-watch for anybody in the creative industry or with interest in the arts.

Downton Abbey

The RMS Titanic has sunk killing over 1500 people aboard.

This headline opens Downton Abbey, an amazingly cinematic television series. As the plot begins to unfold, it is revealed that the heirs to the estate of Downton Abbey were killed aboard the Titanic. As it happens when dealing with inheritances, drama quickly boils to the surface as people begin to conspire against each other in efforts to get their slice of the pie.

The brilliance of Downton Abbey, sadly, isn't so much in the pie. The production elements of the show are phenomenal, making the differences between television entertainment and feature films minimal. Fantastic cinematography coupled with splendid production design give Downton Abbey a look only comparable to period films, such as Pride & Prejudice or Atonement.  It is quite clear that a fat check was spent on the production.

With the high level of production value that Downton Abbey brings to our home screen, you might ask yourself, what is left separating feature films and episodic television? Downton Abbey makes it very clear. Character development.

There are two ways to consider the length of a TV series: in terms of season’s length (7 one-hour long episodes) or episode length (one hour). Conversely, a feature film typically runs at approximately 2 hours. It’s remarkable to see the differences in character development between these two forms of storytelling. For some strange reason, a story that takes 7 hours to tell neglects any form of good character development, while a 2 hour long story can leave you weeping for the characters by the end.

It would be foolish to say that Downton Abbey neglects all forms of character development, however. What they neglect is good character development. It appears that television writers find it most effective to make 90% of the characters in a series an asshole. This is very clear in shows like Game of Thrones, for instance. In fact, you could say that the characters fit specific stereotypes in both Downton Abbey and Game of Thrones. The head of the family, an peace-loving kind man with a background in war, the upper-class man from a neighboring family trying to rise higher in power, the gentle man who has/gains a disability that he must face, the rivaling sisters…

Formulaic isn’t exactly the right word to describe the annoyance with the character development. Annoyance only arises when forced to face the fact that any characterization aside from stereotypes is even considered. The writers of the show have 7 hours to shape these characters, yet they all turn out the same in the end.

It’s homophobic. Downton Abbey is homophobic. The cruelest character introduced is revealed to be gay near the end of the episode. It’s a stereotype. For some reason, making a villain homosexual makes him worse. Gays are somehow dislikable. That’s not saying a villain can’t be gay, but this is a character trend in television and film. For instance, the depiction of Xerxes and the Persian army in 300 tie homosexuality to evil. Another Zach Snyder film, Watchmen, also ties homosexuality when Rorschach makes a note while investigating the villain, “Possibly homosexual. Must remember to investigate further.” Using homosexuality to develop a character is not only offensive but also simply lazy!

There is no other way to put it. Downton Abbey is poorly written. There are plenty of chances to insert likable characters, but somehow the writers decided it would be more effective to write nearly everyone as an asshole. Who’s at fault, it’s difficult to say. The director can change from episode to episode, leaving not one person as the creative visionary behind any single season.  Producers also change periodically, making it difficult to blame them.  Perhaps it truly is the writer’s fault (note the change to a singular noun), Julian Fellowes. Fellowes is the writer and executive producer to 17 of the episodes of Downton Abbey.

All accusatory remarks aside, Downton Abbey is visually stunning portrayal of aristocratic lifestyle in 1910s England. Fantastic costume design, cinematic camerawork, and stellar lighting make the horrible character development nearly forgivable.  The acting isn’t awful either. In the end, episodic television still falls short of reaching the heights of storytelling that feature films reign. However, Downton Abbey is unarguably an example of the great strides television is making, alongside other shows such as Mad Men and Game Of Thrones. The gap between feature films and television is decreasing. Soon we’ll see a golden age in storytelling and experience it comfortably on our living room couch.

Aqua Tower

A body of water will never look the same every time you see it. Water is forever changing and flowing.  The tide rises and falls and is never the same twice. As the light changes throughout the day, the water reflects differently. This fascinating fluidity to the ever-changing nature of water is something the Aqua Tower in Chicago is not immune to.
Construction began on the Aqua Tower in 2007 and finished in 2010. The lead architect was Jeanne Gang. The naming of the Aqua Tower is quite obvious - the building is designed to resemble water. The method this is achieved is quite brilliant. The majority of the building is made up of glass windows, which reflect the blue sky (or a warmer color if the sun is setting or rising). However, large concrete slabs stick out of the building making up the balconies. These concrete slabs are irregularly shaped in a similar form to waves, giving the impression water along the building. Considering the irregularity of the balconies, each slab is cut with an amazing precision, all working together to create a very organic exterior to Aqua Tower.
It is remarkable how different the building looks according to the perspective you have on it. The look of the building is dramatically different up close than it is a mile away. Light plays a significant role as well. At different times of the day, the shadows cast across the building are of extreme variety. The windows are something to note of as well. The way the light reflects from the windows changes as the sun rises and sets, giving a different effect at all times of the day. It's easy to imagine that even the seasons would affect the way the building is perceived. The white snow would create a different feel to Aqua Tower than a green summer would. Simply the color that the glass on the building would reflect creates a vast variety of images. The possibilities are endless.
This aquatic feel to the building is very appropriate considering the proximity of the nearby Lake Michigan and Chicago River. Navy Pier is also within walking distance. Water is a very important aspect to the area of Chicago that Aqua Tower stands. The sky, the water, and the building all play off each other very effectively.
The Aqua Tower is a unique building in Chicago. Many people who come to visit the city always talk about the Willis Tower, formerly known as the Sears tower, the tallest building in the United States. However, the Willis Tower isn't really all that attractive of a building, since the architecture was designed with the intent of creating an immensely tall building, not a work of art. The Aqua Tower, however, is most definitely a work of art. It is difficult not to feel emotion when viewing the building. Even more so fascinating is the fact that on every viewing, Aqua Tower evokes a different emotion, due to perceptual differences.
Water and architecture is a fascinating concept that architect Jeanne Gang explores in Aqua Tower. The nature of water is apparent in the architecture of Aqua Tower. It's clear that thought was put into how the building might be perceived at different times of the day and year. The changing of the seasons affect how the light and color reflects off of the building, creating a different image, day after day. Simply the position of the sun throughout the day affects how awe-inspiring Aqua Tower can be.  The proximity to Lake Michigan and the Chicago River are also interesting to note when considering Aqua Tower's water-like qualities. It's amazing to consider that massive heavy concrete slabs can be cut in such a way to create the lightness and fluidity found in waves of water. The reflectivity of the windows, typically reflecting blue, create a high level of contrast against the white concrete slabs, further augmenting the look of the waves. Aqua Tower is not only an all-in-one building including residential space, a hotel, and retail stores. It is also an amazing work of art and architectural achievement. The sight of Aqua Towers among the dreary square buildings that surround it is as refreshing as a cool cup of water on searing hot summer day.

How are you supposed to react when a character in a book says they want to rob Led Zeppelin? It’s easy to get used to characters robbing banks, or multinational corporations, but one does not simply rob Led Zeppelin.

As the characters are all introduced, it becomes clear that they’ve all been named after various guitarists: Pete Townshend, Keith Richards, Pat Metheny, so on. It’s clever, considering the entire book circles around rock and roll.

It’s obvious the book is about a bunch of kids with famous guitarists’ names robbing Led Zeppelin; a band that the author, Jason Buhrmester, constantly reminds us robbed many musical ideas from older artists. The irony is difficult to miss.

            That could probably be said in less than 200 pages. “Black Dogs” draws itself out for hours. It gets difficult to follow. It’s hard to tell if the characters are talking about music or talking about their latest heist. Eventually, the plot gets even murkier. Soon, a dude that opens up safes gets involved, and he has a band of his own as well. The characters argue about the safe and their heist, and then the conversation suddenly turns to arguing about music.

            It’s understandable that the book is about the relationship between common thieves and music, but it’s hard to believe that a bunch of kids could pull off half of the heists they pulled. It boils down to the suspension of disbelief, which is something that “Black Dogs” never accomplishes.

Coriolanus

             If a film is not relevant, it will fail.  How do you keep the audience interested in Shakespeare, particularly when it comes to one of his more obscure works, Coriolanus, written about four hundred years ago? One of the most notable adaptations of Shakespeare to the screen in the past twenty years would be Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet (1996), which saw widespread success. Romeo + Juliet starred Leonardo de Caprio and Clare Danes as the title characters and had the overall feel of a music video. Baz Luhrmann succeeded at making eye candy for the audience, which is vital when selling a film to a society that prefers dubbed versions of films than having to read subtitles. Shakespeare’s English can be as difficult to understand as a foreign language, making it that much more important to maintain some degree of relevance to modern day issues.

            Once again, the question is raised: how do you make a work that’s four hundred years old, relevant? First time director, Ralph Fiennes, figured it out. Coriolanus is a story of democracy, pride, and betrayal. The film opens with footage of riots and protests in opposition to Caius Martius, played by Fiennes.  The people blame Martius for withholding grain stock from them.  The feeling of despair from the average citizen is amazingly similar to TIME’s Man of the Year, the protester.

            Caius Martius finds himself incapable of relating to the citizens of Rome. His distaste of democracy is evident when he compares it to “allowing the crows to peck at the eagles.” There is no doubt Martius is a terrible politician. It’s only through flattery that he manages to gain his post as consul, and that leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Many of the things Martius says of the common people are alarmingly similar to a certain American politician’s allegations that “corporation’s are people” and his dismissal of certain protest movements as “inciting a class war.” It’s moments like these that make Coriolanus seem real.

            Additionally, the film was shot on 2-perf 35mm film, giving it a very grainy look, which lends itself well to the documentary-style cinematography. The camera moves a lot in the film, which draws the audience in further, pulling them into the action. Fiennes made use of 360° sets, so the camera was able to point in any direction. These large sets make Coriolanus feel much more real and less like a stage play. The costuming plays an additionally important role in the design of the film. Though it takes place in Rome, Fiennes decided to don camouflage instead of Roman armor. A few Apple products can be spotted throughout the film, as well as spectators recording important speeches on their phones.

            Fiennes gives us a very bloody Coriolanus—one that does not hold back to the viewing audience. Fiennes’ directorial debut will go down as one of the best modern adaptation of Shakespeare to date, giving a film that, while maintaining its modern twist, isn’t afraid to go all Shakespeare on you.  How many other films have a crazed blood-covered General emerge from the ruins of a building and start reciting Shakespeare?

Spaghetti Westerns

A clear homage to the 1960’s spaghetti westerns, “Rome” is the film soundtrack without the film. The intentions of Danger Mouse (the man behind Gnarls Barkley, Broken Bells, and numerous other music projects) and collaborator Daniele Luppi (composer and arranger for the same projects) are clear down to the album cover: “Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi Present: Rome” followed by a black bleeding heart. At the bottom, “Starring Jack White and Norah Jones."

Granted, not all the listeners of the album would be familiar with the spaghetti westerns that “Rome” tips its hat to. Fortunately, Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi have an uncanny ability to make the music listenable. It’s still alternative rock. It’s not as painful as having to listen to an actual film soundtrack.  That’s not to say the album doesn’t capture the nostalgia (perhaps melancholia is a better word) of the 1960’s. Hell, Daniele Luppi went so far as to hire the session muscians Ennio Morricone used in the 1960’s, many of these guys being in their late 70’s.

The sound is there. It’s composed brilliantly. The album starts out quiet. Track One: Theme of “Rome”. Drums come in, almost like war drums, then, suddenly, a stroke of a guitar. Silence. Another guitar stroke. And then above it all, a voice comes in. No lyrics, just voice (reminiscent of…well, let’s just say it’s the same choir that sang in “The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly”) And underneath to support it, strings come in. Nothing complicated though, just smooth strokes supporting the upper melody.

The music continues in a similar fashion. There is definite emphasis in simplicity. The song that’s most outwardly rock would be “Two Against One”, featuring Jack White (White Stripes), which could also be the album’s most popular song, assuming that the popularity of it in iTunes means anything.