Showing posts with label Spielberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spielberg. Show all posts

22.8.10

Jaws (1975)

Welcome to the blog marathon "Spielberg - The Early Years". In this marathon I'll be re-watching the early works of Steven Spielberg, in an attempt to discover how he became the director we all know and love.

INTRODUCTION

The story is as simple as it is frightening. The poster is one of the most recognizable ones ever - a perfect image capturing a moment of utter horror. Even the title is simple. Unmistakably hostile. One word.

Jaws.

And so we've reached that dreaded moment where I'm supposed to say something intelligent about Jaws, one of my 10 favorite films of all time, and one of the most influential films from the '70s. Back then it was blamed for severely reducing visitors to seaside resorts, and in the last couple of years ignorant film commentators have blamed it for ruining Hollywood, as if Tinseltown wasn't obsessed with money before the Great White came along.

Having said that Jaws was the first modern blockbuster. It wasn't just a hit, it was a phenomenon. It made Steven Spielberg a household name, one of only a handful of directors referred to simply by their last name.

So without further ado, are you ready to get back into the water...?


THE STORY

The little island community of Amity, off the coast of New England, is about to get a crash course in Darwin's survival of the fittest theory, when a Great White shark takes a liking to its waters, and its citizens.

First a young girl is found dead on the beach, bitten to bits by the white menace. Police chief Martin Broody (Roy Scheider), a relative newcomer to these shores, does the only sensible thing: He closes the beaches, but soon he's forced to change that decision, when the Mayor convinces him that Amity really, really needs those beaches to be open for business.

An old fisherman, Quint (Robert Shaw) offers to catch the shark. A marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) arrives, and warns Brody and the Mayor that this is just the beginning. Soon the tourists pour in, and soon the waters run red with blood. Something has to be done. So Chief Brody, Hooper and Quint sail out in a rotten boat to find the shark, and kill it.


REVIEW

The music starts slowly, as the first credit cards appear. Just a few notes from a cello, barely a melody. We cut to an underwater shot, and the tuba kicks in. The camera is the eyes of an unseen menace, moving through the water. The tempo rises. The strings are added. Relentlessly we move through the water. The music swells and... Cut!

We're at a beach. There's a bonfire. A group of teenagers are enjoying themselves, and each other. The music from a harmonica flows gently through the air. Two teens, a boy and a girl, separate from the others. They run to the water for a bit of skinny-dipping in the moonlight. The boy collapses at the edge of the water, too drunk to stand. The girl jumps in and swims away.

She's swimming around in the calm ocean all by herself. Until...

We cut back to the water. The camera moves from below, up towards the unsuspecting girl. The music starts up again. We know something bad is on its way, and yet nothing can prepare us for the simple, primal horror of watching the young girl being eaten alive. She fights for her life. She screams for help. She cries out in pain. And then there's nothing. Only the sound of the water remains.


Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you open a film!

The production of Jaws was famously fraught with problems of nearly every kind. I won't go into details about that here, but it's interesting that some of the most problematic productions often create the most memorable films. Think Gone with the Wind (1939), or The Godfather (1972). Sometimes the challenge of a difficult production forces everyone to step up, and consequently elevates the film to a new level.

Before we get any further let me stress that although Spielberg gets most of the credit, when it comes to Jaws, he didn't create the film single-handedly. He didn't write the story, and he didn't write the script. We also tend to forget that he was almost fired for being too slow, and everybody hated shooting the film! I also want to point out that Spielberg certainly wasn't the first good storyteller at the movies, nor did he invent anything new for this film, per se. So if I get a little carried away in the following text, please keep this in mind.

What Spielberg did do, though, was use his considerable knowledge of film to maximum effect, while being a part of a movement that didn't view entertaining the audience as something dirty. At the end of the day the only thing that matters is what's up there on the screen. And what's up there, when Jaws is playing, is one of the all-time greatest thrillers, and a study in how to tell a story effectively.


STORYTELLING

An interesting aspect of Jaws is that the story is split into two very different parts. The transition between them, however, feels absolutely smooth, because of the close relations between the themes of the two pieces.

The first part takes place in and around Amity, and looks at the big picture, the Mankind vs. Nature aspect, if you will. The second part takes place exclusively on the open sea, and narrows its focus to a more personal Man vs. Beast struggle. The first part centers on the cold hard financial realities of the situation versus simple human compassion, with the sleazy Mayor representing the first, and Brody representing the latter, while the second part focuses on the social aspects of this conflict, by playing blue collar and white collar characters against each other, and even to some extent city folks vs. country folks. To put it simply: Jaws goes from being a disaster movie to a personal drama.

When you think about it, this is rather unusual. Most big event films try to get bigger and more complicated throughout the story, Jaws does the opposite. It keeps getting smaller and more simple. Perhaps that's why the film works so well. Before we have a chance to get bored with the shark-attacks on the beach, the film takes the three main characters, whom we've learned to love (or hate), and moves them to the most dangerous place of all. The film removes almost all distractions, all supporting characters, not to mention the safety-net of solid ground, and practically serves our heroes up on a plate in front of the beast! The conflict is reduced to its most basic form: 3 men. 1 boat. 1 shark. It doesn't get simpler than that.

The reason this works is that the driving force in Jaws is the characters. The film doesn't rely on a mystery, not even when it comes to revealing the shark. The film plays around with our perception of the big fish, but we know it's a shark, and we know it's big. Movies that revolve around a central mystery, or a hidden menace tend to get less and less effective the more answers we get, or the more we see of that menace. By the end all that's left is a fight to determine if good or evil will prevail. In Jaws we essentially still end up with a "good fights evil" scene, but it works on a completely different level, because we're asked to invest in the conflict between the three lead characters. That's where the real drama plays out. When we finally see the full scope of the shark, it's almost a throwaway moment, our eyes aren't trained on the beast, we're watching the three men's reaction instead.


Adding to the effectiveness of the story is the use of understated humor. Just a few moments here and there that lets us laugh a bit, or even just smile. It means so much that we're allowed to do that. Ever noticed how many directors are afraid to let you laugh these days? It feels as if they think laughter from the audience will devalue a film. Either that - or they are SO afraid they'll ruin the mood they're trying to create that they actually hold on to it too tight. Here's the thing: It's very hard to create a film that accelerates in thrills or danger for two straight hours. You need to slow down and let the film settle every now and then, so you can build up the tempo again. A little laughter will do that. This is clear in the classic Indianapolis scene.

First we get the beautiful scar-comparing moment, which lets us come down from the excitement of the previous scene. This leads to Quint's haunting speech about the Indianapolis, which provides us with some chilling descriptions about sharks, while giving us a look into Quint's character. Then Hooper begins to sing, the mood becomes playful, and then at the exact right moment we cut away from the warm company of the three men, to the cold dark sea, where the familiar yellow barrels pop up to reveal that the shark is back.

Take away any component of this scene and the structure collapses. The sequence works precisely because we get those changes of pace, and the shifts in mood.

CHARACTERS

Having already established that the characters are the primary focus here, let's look at how that's accomplished. When we examine Jaws it's pretty obvious that it belongs to a different time, and I'm not just talking about the clothes. or the lack of mobile phones. There are scenes here that wouldn't make it into a modern blockbuster. Calm, quiet moments that rely on subtlety, moments that provide background and fill out the characters, rather than stuffing obvious information and simple labels down our throats. Like the "post-shark-autopsy-dinner-scene".


Brody is sitting at the table contemplating his next move, lost in his own thoughts. His son is watching him closely mimicking his every move. Brody's wife Ellen appears in the doorway. She doesn't say anything, she just watches father and son interact. Now flashforward one hour, when a 25 foot shark is stalking a tiny fishing boat on the open sea. We don't worry about Brody because we have to, we worry because we know what kind of man he is. That's been planted in our minds by the dinner scene, and other similar scenes. That's what many modern blockbusters don't understand. We're not going to love the hero automatically, because he is the hero, you have to give us a reason.

Take the very first scene where we meet Brody and Ellen. It's morning, they're waking up. There's a lazy, comfortable mood. They talk about the kids, about having moved. It's casual and feels real. Compare this to a similar scene in a less than subtle modern film like Independence Day (1996).

Will Smith wakes up and crawls out of bed. He takes a piss, then he heads out to pick up the paper AND SEES A GIGANTIC UFO IN THE SKY. You can almost feel the director being all giddy and unfocused during the scene, because he can't wait to get to the big sight gag. Even the dialogue is flat and on the money. The dog brings Smith his slippers to impress him. The girlfriend says "he's just trying to impress you". He looks out the window and sees that the neighbours are moving. He says "the neighbours are moving". We still like the guy, but we like him because he's Will Smith, not because he's a fully formed character.

On the surface the scene in Jaws is not that different, but Brody and Ellen are real characters, they talk like real people, and because of this we get an instant connection to them. And what happens at the end of the scene? Brody leaves. That's it. There are no UFOs in the backyard. Hell, we haven't even seen a shark yet. Why? Because this was a character moment. Pure and simple.

The interactions between the characters are a key point in Jaws. They become very important in the second half of the film, when our cast is reduced to three people. This is also when our three lead actors get a chance to shine. I won't waste any time praising the work of Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, and Richard Dreyfuss, because I would probably go overboard, but let me just mention one scene: The examination of the first victim. This is a gruesome scene! And yet, except for a small glimpse of the body near the end we don't actually see anything. The scene is left completely in the hands of Richard Dreyfuss, and he's so good!

But I digress.

Actually Hooper is a great place to start, when we're talking about the characters in Jaws. He's a good example of how costume design and character design can play an important part in a film. Hooper is an academic, but he dresses like a hippie. He looks like he's blue collar, but he's actually filthy rich. This gives him multiple uses in terms of character dynamics.


There's an instant connection between Hooper and Brody. They immediately like and respect each other - It makes sense, they both have their feet on the ground and their hands in the dirt. They can stand side by side against the Mayor, but what happens when they run into Quint? Quint disregards Hooper's costume right off the bat, and sees straight through to the rich guy inside, so there's an instant conflict between these two characters. This continues when they head out to the open sea. Just remember the famous "crushing the beer can/plastic cup"-scene, where Hooper and Quint size each other up!

Now we get to the clever part: On the water Brody is no longer on the same level with Hooper, a more experienced sailor. He's at odds with both Hooper and Quint because he's a fish out of water (so to speak). Quint and Hooper often find themselves on the same page because of their shared experiences, when it comes to sharks and the water (which is reflected in the scar comparison scene), but while Hooper just gets frustrated with him, Quint often watches over Brody protectively (and condescendingly), to make sure he doesn't mess up too bad.

This, again, is one of the master strokes of the film.

Because the characters are built properly, from the ground up, because the scenes are loaded with information, not just simple labels, the characters aren't just pawns in the script, they actually feed the action at every turn, and provide extra layers to the story, when they clash.

THE NOVEL

Should you feel tempted to read the book after seeing the film, let me be blunt: Don't. A few changes when a book is adapted from page to screen is to be expected, but there are some rather radical differences between Jaws the movie and Jaws the Book.

The most serious one is the fact that Brody and Hooper are at odds with each other right from the start in the novel. Hooper actually has an affair with Brody's wife, which obviously creates a totally different character dynamic.

The ending is also radically different, in terms of who lives and who dies, and how they die, but I don't want to spoil that for those who haven't read the novel. Suffice it to say the thing that elevates the film to a new level is missing from the book.

SHOT BY SHOT

The technical and logistical challenges in Jaws were massive. They were shooting with a mechanical shark that didn't work, they were shooting on the water, and if there was a ship on the horizon they couldn't just paint it out in the computer, they had to wait for it to pass by. The film ended up taking three times longer than planned.

The most important technical challenge was undoubtedly the shark. Contrary to popular belief the shark was never supposed to be shown all the time. When the mechanical creation didn't work, the team used the yellow barrels instead, but had the fake shark worked it would have appeared in lieu of those barrels and not much more often.

This leads us to the actual shark attacks. They are SO FRIGHTENING, even though they are quick, and there aren't that many of them. In fact, only 5 people are killed in the film, one of the deaths happens off-screen and another happens during the climax, so we basically only see three kills during the main action of the story. I've already described the first attack in the earlier paragraph. The second attack is worth studying a bit closer. We've already covered storytelling a bit, but there's a purely technical aspect to this as well.

The scene begins with Brody hanging out on the beach, nervous about the prospects of another attack. Then the swimmers go in, nothing happens and we're on the verge of relaxing, when suddenly a young boy is devoured by the beast. The meat (sorry) of the sequence plays out in only four shots:

1) A young man is calling out for his dog, a moment ago they were playing fetch.

2) The stick they were playing with is floating in the water.

3) The camera moves through the water towards the boy from below. We've already established that this is the point of view of the shark.

4) SHOCK! Pure visceral terror as the boy is chewed up in a partially obscured long shot!


It looks simple, but there's nothing simple about telling a story visually in a handful of carefully executed shots. Even if you haven't seen the film, and are only presented with these four shots, you'll still be able to understand the story.

I love to call attention to Spielberg's one-shot scenes, where he tells the story with his camera, without cutting. My favorite example is a scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) (the link will send you to an article in Danish, but the images should speak for themselves).

In Jaws we find a great, but more simple example of this, when the Mayor tries to convince Brody to open the beaches again. Here's the scene:


Rather than cutting closer to Brody and the Mayor, or even moving the camera, Spielberg makes his actors move. It's actually written into the story: The Mayor pulls Brody away, to talk with him in confidence, and while he does this he pulls Brody towards the camera. As the intensity of the conversation increases, the shot becomes more and more focused. Extremely simple, but very effective.

Generally speaking Jaws features plenty of unique and memorable shots. Who doesn't remember the "you're gonna need a bigger boat"-scene, which contains the single best image from the film? The shark emerges while Brody throws chum in the water, just as he looks away. That's one big fish!


Or how about the "incident" with the body that pops out of the hole in the fishing boat? A scene that still makes me jump every time I see the film! Or how about the shots of the aforementioned yellow barrels that pop out of the water signifying impending death and mutilation? I could go on, but I guess we have to end this eventually.

Like I said earlier Spielberg didn't create this film single-handedly.

Among his closest collaborators were cinematographer Bill Butler, who had to keep a steady hand during the shoot, literally, since 90% of the film was shot handheld, while delivering excellent sharp images. Credit must also go to camera operator Michael Chapman, who physically operated the camera throughout the ordeal.

Verna Field took care of the brilliant editing, and won an Oscar for it. She would review footage with Spielberg and Butler every day, to keep a close eye on what worked and what didn't. And let's not forget production designer Joe Alves, who also served as location scout, he directed a few second unit shots, and he storyboarded the entire climax of the movie.

All of these people (and a few more) helped to create the wonder that is Jaws.


FINAL THOUGHTS

Well, let's wrap this one up in a jiffy, there's no need to get elaborate.

Jaws has lost none of it's power. The ferocity of the beast is only matched by the effectiveness of the storytelling. Sure, it launched Steven Spielberg's career into the stratosphere, sure it created the term "blockbuster", but at the end of the day, when you pop the film in the home theatre and crank up the volume, the only thing that matters is this:

Jaws is a perfect movie.

Next up: You can't tell. Not even Mom, but it's time to watch the skies.

STATS

This-Boy-is-a-Genius-O-Meter: 10/10.

Beard Factor: Dreyfuss sports a spectacular facial appendage! It's biblical! In fact he looks a little like Spielberg would look later in his life.

Composition: 50% male bonding, 35% dum-dum-dum-dum, 15% shark.

The Sound of Williams: One of those scores you can recognize after hearing two notes of the theme! Absolutely classic! A big reason for the film's success.
Acknowledgements

Once again, we need a few shoutouts!

Thanx to Dennis Rosenfeld, for feedback and music research.

And to Anne Petersen for awesome rpoof reading. (Yes - that mistake was a joke).

8.8.10

The Sugarland Express (1974)

Welcome to the blog marathon "Spielberg - The Early Years". In this marathon I'll be re-watching the early works of Steven Spielberg, in an attempt to discover how he became the director we all know and love.

INTRODUCTION

Even though Steven Spielberg made his name on sensationalistic concepts - giant sharks, aliens arriving on Earth, adventures of the occult and beyond - most of these films contain an element of realism, usually centered around a family unit, which anchors the drama in something real we can relate to.

This is why The Sugarland Express is interesting. It was made before Spielberg became a huge name, it's constructed around the same focus on a family unit, but contains none of the fantastic elements that would later inform his career. In fact it's based on a true story. So if you ever wondered what kind of filmmaker Spielberg would have become without the aliens and the dinosaurs, this is the film to investigate...


STORY

25 year old Lou Jean (a baby-faced Goldie Hawn) arrives at a prison pre-release center to visit her husband Clovis (William Atherton), with a clear purpose in mind: She's going to bust him out of jail. Even though he only has 4 months left to serve, and it would be foolish, by any account, to risk an even longer sentence for such a short time, events have unfolded that require swift and reckless action.

The authorities have taken Lou Jean's boy, baby Langston, and placed him in foster care, with a family in Sugarland, Texas. They claim she's unfit to be a mother, on account of her jail time and all. Lou Jean means to get him back, so she basically kidnaps her husband, so he can help her.

When they are pulled over by highway Patrolman Maxwell Slide (Michael Sacks) the story takes a turn for the worse. They end up commandeering his car, taking him hostage, and forcing him to drive them to Sugarland to save baby Langston.

Their deeds do not go unnoticed, and soon they are being pursued by a whole caravan of police cars, led by the experienced Captain Tanner (Ben Johnson). Then the media catches on, and once that spotlight hits them, there's no going back.


REVIEW

(This film is difficult to discuss without talking about the ending, so please be aware that you are in a SPOILER ZONE from here on out.)

It's right there in the tagline - "The true story of a girl who took on all of Texas... and almost won" - there's no way this story can have a happy ending. We know this almost from the beginning. For a little while, though, Spielberg has us going.

We open the film with an awkward prison break, and after that we get a hilarious sequence, where the fugitives hitch a ride from an elderly couple. There's a great mischievous tone in this early part of the movie, with some charming, subtle humor, which continues even after the patrolman is taken hostage. For a while it seems like we're heading out on a safe, quirky road movie. The beautiful landscapes of Texas race by, while an unusual bond develops between the miss-matched threesome in the car, but the law is always present, looming ominously in the background, and it becomes harder and harder to ignore.


So when does the tone shift towards the dark? It happens very slowly and evenly during the entire run of the movie, culminating at the end, but there's one crucial moment I want to focus on: It's nightfall. The fugitives stop at a car lot, to spend the night in a motor-home. It's near a Drive-In cinema, where they are showing some old cartoons. As Lou Jean and Clovis are watching through the windows, the reflection of a cartoon is superimposed on their faces. It's one of those featuring the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. They are basically all identical: The coyote comes up with a great plan, it fails, he's blown up, or crushed, or worse. It doesn't matter how well-conceived his plan is, it doesn't matter how good his intentions are, the coyote is always doomed to fail if he takes on the Road Runner. It's inevitable. At this exact moment it dawns on Clovis that they too are doomed. William Atherton tells the entire story with a simple change of expression, and Spielberg gives him room to do so. It's a stunningly simple piece of film making, which is why it works so well.

Goldie Hawn also deserves credit for her portrayal of Lou Jean. It's ironic, because I really should hate Lou Jean. She's the reason behind this mess. She's the instrument of every bad thing that happens in the story, and she's ultimately responsible for how it ends as well. And yet, I have no ill will towards her. Why? Perhaps it's simply because Hawn finds that universal bit of heart in the character - a mother's love for her child - that we can all relate to, but she never milks it for sympathy, or reduces Lou Jean's yearning to tearful ready-made Oscar speeches. Lou Jean is clearly absolutely clueless at times, but I don't think Goldie Hawn shares any such ignorance with her character. She appears to be in complete control of her performance, and it's her best work ever, by a mile.

To me the masterstroke of this film is the combination of the arc of the characters, the way the mood slowly changes, and how subtle Spielberg is when it comes to character development. Bonnie and Clyde robbed banks. Mickey and Mallory killed people left and right. Thelma and Louise shot a guy. Lou Jean and Clovis... what did they do? They kidnapped a patrolman, but after that, they don't actually do anything bad, so when did they go from being concerned, albeit horribly misguided, parents, to become public enemy no. 1?


Add to that the horrible Kafkaesque nature of their predicament: The lengths they are willing to go, to get their kid back, simultaneously showing how committed they are as parents, while reinforcing the impression that they should probably never be allowed near this kid again. What we end up with is the only truly tragic Steven Spielberg film (even Schindler's List (1993) is about hope), but - take note of this Hollywood producers - in no way does this diminish the impact of the story, or make the film any less enjoyable. Quite the contrary.

Unsurprisingly Spielberg's first foray into the world of feature films looks considerably more polished than his previous TV efforts. This is a gorgeous film, especially considering most of it takes place in a car or on a highway. Legendary cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond shot the film, he would later shoot Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) for Spielberg as well, which earned him an Academy Award. Whether we're dealing with a simple conversation between three people in a car, or the massive police caravan, crawling through the landscape like a snake, Zsigmond catches every detail, and puts the widescreen frame to good use. The clunky square shapes of the cop cars, the soft dreamy look on Goldie Hawn's face, all the night sequences, the cartoon shot I mentioned earlier - These are the iconic images of The Sugarland Express. They don't stand a chance against bicycling aliens or big sharks, but on their own terms they are equally unique.

Before we wrap this up let's take a quick look at the rest of the crew. First we have to mention editor Verna Fields. I'm sure her contribution here was considerable, but it would be Spielberg's next film, Jaws (1975) which truly earned her recognition. It also ended up being her last film as an editor. This was the first time composer John Williams provided the score to a Spielberg film. At the time of writing this he has scored every subsequent Spielberg film, with the exception of two (The Color Purple (1985) and Twilight Zone The Movie (1983) - which Spielberg only directed one third of). Joe Alves, with whom Spielberg had worked during his TV-series days, joined the team as Art Director. He would go on to work on the two next Spielberg projects, Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

This is an All-Star team if ever there was one.


FINAL THOUGHTS

I love the simple, beautiful drama of this film.

Once again we're dealing with an ordinary person, caught in extraordinary circumstances. We might end up in a rather outrageous place, but our starting point is a simple conflict that everyone can relate to.

The Sugarland Express didn't do particularly well at the box office. It barely broke even. Critics were pleased, however, and the film did win the screenplay award at the Cannes film festival. Regardless of its financial failure the film was an artistic triumph that would allow Spielberg to continue directing. His sophomore effort on the big screen would be the film that made him a God among men.

Next up: All we want is a nice quiet summer, but nature finds its way out of that one.

STATS

This-Boy-is-a-Genius-O-Meter: 7/10

Beard Factor: Nothing! Again! Where are the beards?!

Composition: 50% The Spielberg Crack Team, 20% car fetish, 20% Duel, 10% Raising Arizona.

The Sound of Williams: First score composed by Williams! Hurray! Not one of his most memorable scores, mind you, but a solid effort nontheless.

25.7.10

Something Evil (1972)

Welcome to the blog marathon "Spielberg - The Early Years". In this marathon I'll be re-watching the early works of Steven Spielberg, in an attempt to discover how he became the director we all know and love.

INTRODUCTION

This is the second and last Steven Spielberg TV movie. After this the Bearded One would turn his attention to theatrical feature films, and never look back.

Something Evil was produced for CBS and aired the 21st of January, 1972. It reportedly did very well. While it's inferior to Duel (1971) in many ways, it's still an intriguing film, partly because we can once again draw parallels to other films in Spielberg's career, but also because the story mirrors a certain Oscar winning occult movie. More on this later. First, let's see which ordinary life is all set to be messed up by Mr. Spielberg...


THE STORY

The Worden family is enjoying a quiet picnic in the countryside, somewhere in Pennsylvania. While her two kids are playing, their mother, Marjorie (Sandy Dennis), is sketching a old farm house. The place is for sale and Marjorie suddenly hits upon the idea that the family should buy the house, so they can get away from the noisy city. Her husband, Paul (Darren McGavin), reluctantly agrees, and before you can say "who died in the barn?" the family has moved in, despite warnings from the locals that there's something strange about the house. And sure enough trouble soon rears its ugly head.


One night Marjorie is woken by the sound of a child crying somewhere in the house, but she's unable to find the source of the sound. When she returns to the house she finds her son crying from a nightmare. The first of many.

A few days later, after a party at the Worden house, a couple on their way home is killed in a mysterious car accident. At the party the woman had displayed knowledge about the occult. More strange and increasingly disturbing events lead Marjorie to conclude that something evil is threatening the family. Her husband thinks she's crazy, but Marjorie turns to a local paranormal expert for assistance. But what if she's right? What if the Devil himself has laid claim to this family? Surely there's a price to pay for such interference...?

REVIEW

With a running-time of a mere 73 minutes Something Evil doesn't leave a whole lot of room for unnecessary detours, but since the story is simple, effective, and without any overcomplicated subplots the film never feels rushed.

The story begins with the death of an old farmer, the previous owner of the house, we gather. The man falls to his death after being chased by an unseen force. The scene is far from conclusive, so we don't know exactly what's going on, we just know something is wrong. That uneasy feeling is all Spielberg needs. He slowly and confidently builds up the tension in the family, and constantly plays with our natural mistrust of anything we can't see with our own two eyes. For a long time everything that happens in the film could be attributed to the mother's uneasy state of mind. Though, of course, we eventually learn what's really going on.


Even as the mystery unravels, Spielberg makes do with very simple means. Like when Marjorie, in a case of absurd family bonding, paints a giant pentagram on floor of the kids' bedroom. The scene is treated almost casually by Spielberg. It could have been a big MOMENT, with thunder and lightning strikes, or it could have been ruined by an imposing score, but the director keeps a tight grip on reality. His primary focus is the family, and as a result the interactions between the actors are totally believable. They completely sell the scene, despite the fact that we're dealing with the supernatural. This approach applies to the whole film, and leads to a powerful and frightening drama.

By the same token Something Evil isn't quite as visually aggressive or impressive as Duel - only during the demonic sequences later in the film, where Spielberg allows himself to go a little nuts! Still, I don't want to leave the impression that this is a boring or slow film, trust me when I say that there is a handful of moments here that are easily as scary as anything in The Exorcist (1973).


To quickly wrap up the other visual highlights, I want to call attention to a party scene early in the film that demonstrates Spielberg's fondness for creating chaotic montage-style scenes, which play out on multiple levels, both in terms of the images and the soundtrack. Spielberg experimented with variations of this in both his Columbo episode and in Duel, but now he seems to be on the verge of perfecting the technique. I also noticed that there's an awful lot of zooming here, which could perhaps be attributed to the compressed TV schedule, nevertheless it gives the film a slightly less cinematic feel compared to Duel, but perhaps that's because we're looking at the film with modern eyes. By the way, Something Evil was shot by future Jaws (1975) cinematographer Bill Butler.

I mentioned The Exorcist earlier and we might as well deal with the elephant in the room. Yes, there are a few similarities between Something Evil and The Exorcist. The novel behind the latter movie had been published in 1971, and the film version must have been in production when Something Evil was shooting. The story most likely was inspired by The Exorcist, but Spielberg certainly wasn't influenced by the film, since it had not yet been completed. I feel like we can also draw parallels to Rosemary's Baby (1968), in the way the mother becomes slowly obsessed with the demonic presence.


Another interesting comparison lies in Spielberg's own future. 10 years later he wrote and produced Poltergeist (1982), directed by Tobe Hooper (though, reportedly Spielberg more or less took over during post-production, but that's another story.) Clearly the film was an attempt to take the story of Something Evil and push it even further. The family dynamics are updated, and the supernatural aspect is given a boost.

Nothing scares me quite as much as stories about demons, possessions, the occult, or the Devil. I still can't watch The Exorcist without turning on all of the lights in my apartment, and to this day I still remember being scared out of my mind watching Poltergeist with my father, when I was way too young.

Something Evil can easily keep up with these two iconic films. That says it all. And for those still keeping track, Spielberg was only 26 when he directed this film.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The only really big problem with Something Evil is that it's bloody difficult to get a hold of. It has (at the time of writing) never been released to the home video market, so if you want to see it, you have to catch it on TV, or perhaps borrow somebody's old VHS recording. It's also possible to find this on the interwebs, with a little digging around, but the source will still just be some kind of TV recording. I really wish someone would pick this up and make a cool little special edition available. The film deserves it.

And with that, we leave the small screen and head for the big one. Not a moment too soon, I might add.

Next up: Where we're going, we definitely need roads.

STATS

This-Boy-is-a-Genius-O-Meter: 6/10.

Beard Factor: No beards again. What's going on?! I do not support this complete lack of facial hair.

Composition: 50% Poltergeist, 30% The Exorcist, 10% Rosemary's Baby, 10% zoom.

The Sound of Williams: Naught. Score is composed by Wladimir Selinsky.

16.7.10

Duel (1971)

Welcome to the blog marathon "Spielberg - The Early Years". In this marathon I'll be re-watching the early works of Steven Spielberg, in an attempt to discover how he became the director we all know and love.

INTRODUCTION

At 11:32 AM Mann passed the truck.

With this simple sentence begins an equally simple short story, Duel, from writer Richard Matheson, about a man being chased by a truck. The film Duel would soon prove to be anything but simple. Originally envisioned as a movie of the week, Duel premiered on ABC the 13th of November, 1971. It was so successful that it was later expanded and released as a theatrical feature film in Europe two years later. The film set a new bar for what could be achieved on TV. Compare this to the giant-mutant-shark-CGI-movies of the week that Sci-Fi Channel makes these days, I dare you.

Most importantly Duel became responsible for kick-starting Steven Spielberg's career. He simply refused to let the TV format limit him. He took the job very seriously, but he saw it as a stepping stone to something better. This is the work of a director who wanted to make MOVIES. He didn't want to work in TV, so he was dead set on proving himself. Duel was the perfect vehicle for that, if you'll forgive the pun.


THE STORY

Mann (Dennis Weaver) is on his way to an important meeting.

On a dusty empty road in the middle of Nowhere USA, he passes a truck. He thinks nothing more of this, until the truck suddenly roars past him to take the lead again. A moment later Mann overtakes the truck once more. This innocent game continues for a while, but when the truck is back in the lead, it suddenly blocks the road, preventing Mann from passing it, causing him to grow increasingly frustrated.

At one point it seems like the truck has given up, and with the wave of a hand the driver indicates that Mann can now pass him. Mann overtakes the truck in a hurry and only narrowly misses a frontal collision with an oncoming car. Frustration gives way to fear, when the reality of the situation dawns on Mann: The truck is trying to kill him!


REVIEW

Without a doubt a film ostensibly as simple as Duel could not have been made today. A man. A car. A dusty road. And a truck. That's all. And yet with these few components Steven Spielberg crafts a suspense thriller to rival to works of Alfred Hitchcock at his best. An epic struggle that pits man against machine, and pushes him to the brink of sanity.

With an extremely tight shooting schedule Duel was no easy job. Spielberg claims it was shot in a mere 13 days! Not only that, but the brutal post-production schedule, gave him only 3,5 weeks from the day the last shot was in the can, till the film was scheduled to be shown on TV. Madness, even by today's standards. Yet with all this pressure behind him, Spielberg performs perfectly. And yes, I don't mind giving him all the credit here, even though he didn't write the story, because this is a director's film, if ever I saw one.


Duel is a 90 minutes long chase scene, with limited dialogue. Every sensation we feel along the way has to be created with the camera and through editing. There are no big sweeping dialogues for the actors to chew on here. The chase is the star here. From the moment the chase begins to the bitter end, the film tightens its grip on the audience. Every scene enforces the sense of impending doom, and there's a constantly accelerating sense of claustrophobia, throughout the film. Quite a feat for a film that takes place mostly on the open road!

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the film is how inventive Spielberg is with his camera. The neverending dust road races by, each mile similar to the one before, and yet Spielberg constantly comes up with new ways to shoot the same thing. Credit for this should be shared with the writer Richard Matheson, who meticulously planned the route for his screenplay, and cinematographer Jack A. Marta's dynamic images. Spielberg also scores some easy points by having actor Dennis Weaver drive the car most of the time, and shooting everything on location. You just can't buy that kind of realism, no matter how much CGI you throw at it!


The villain of the piece, the truck itself, is one of the most frightening creations of Spielberg's career! In the DVD special features the director talks about casting the perfect truck, and he sure as hell found it. What a beast! A smoking, dirty, noisy monster of steel! Big letters on the back warn that the content of the truck is "flammable", and when we look into the cab we rarely see more than a silhouette of the driver inside. It's a completely mundane sight, yet Spielberg manages to make it the most frightening thing ever.

My only gripe with the film (and I'm a little unclear whether this is more prominent in the extended version) is the voice-over. On the soundtrack we occasionally hear Dennis Weaver's thoughts, through an increasingly desperate whispering voice, contemplating his dire situation. That's not really necessary. The masterful film-making leaves no doubt about Mann's feelings at any point.

Duel is also worth investigating in the context of Spielberg's entire body of work, since it explores themes he would return to again and again.

The most dominant theme in Duel concerns the emasculated man, tamed by modern society - and the women in his life - robbed of the beast inside. With steel, grease, and petrol the taunting driver asks: "What are you going to do, Mann? Are you still a man, Mann?" This unprovoked menace doesn't just threaten Mann's life. It rips a giant hole in the fabric of Mann's secure, suffocating universe.

If we expand this idea we could draw parallels to Close Encounter of the Third Kind (1977), where Roy has his imagination suffocated by his wife, or even the Indiana Jones series, where Indy is likewise tamed by the academic world, and is only truly happy, when he's out of the office.

Forcing an ordinary man to face a seemingly insurmountable challenge is a mainstay of Spielberg movies. In a way this tale of man vs. machine, could also be seen as a prelude to the man vs. beast theme of Jaws (1975), which also pits a middle-class man against an unstoppable force, or Jurassic Park (1993) for that matter.


The screenplay for Duel was not written by Spielberg, nor were the screenplays for Jaws, Jurassic Park, or the Indiana Jones movies, but I don't think the fact that these subjects find their way back into Spielberg's movies time after time can be written off as pure chance. He seems drawn to these themes. If we focus only on the stories he's written himself - The Sugarland Express (1974), Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Poltergeist (1982), The Goonies (1985) - it's clear that they all deal with completely ordinary people facing extreme circumstances. Coincidence? Hardly.

Is that why his films became so popular? They might often deal with fantastic stories, but the characters are just regular folks like you and me. Easy to identify and sympathize with.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Duel is a great thriller. It's a 90 minute ride to hell. As simple as it is effective.

Today a film such as this would be shot on a green screen set, and half the shots of the truck would be computer generated. This is why it's important to go back to the classics. Because the adrenalin rush of watching a chase like this, shot real-for-real, is unbeatable.

Duel also provides an early insight into a filmmaker taking his first steps towards the larger arena of feature film making. As such it is essential viewing.

Next up: It's heeeere!

STATS

This-Boy-is-a-Genius-O-Meter: 6/10. Now... Let's give him some more money and see what he can do.

Beard Factor: Mild. A small moustace.

Composition: 85% driving, 10% McCloud, 5% sandwich.

The Sound of Williams: Naught. Score is composed by Billy Goldenberg. And it's not really music it's mostly just noise.

11.7.10

Columbo: Murder by the Book

Welcome to the blog marathon "Spielberg - The Early Years". In this marathon I'll be re-watching the early works of Steven Spielberg, in an attempt to discover how he became the director we all know and love.

INTRODUCTION

We'll start this Spielberg marathon ever so softly, with the Columbo episode Murder by the Book, which aired the 15th of September 1971. It was the first regular episode that aired, and Steven Spielberg was only 25 years old when he directed it. It followed two TV-movies. The first, Prescription: Murder, was aired on the 20th of February 1968, while the second, Ransom for a Dead Man, aired almost 3 years later.

Before being given this opportunity Spielberg had worked on several other TV-shows, including Night Gallery and The Psychiatrist. Very soon, though, this young TV director, would graduate to the major leagues...


THE STORY

Two writers, Ken Franklin (Jack Cassidy) and James Ferris (Martin Milner), have found fame and fortune writing a series of mystery novels, but now their partnership is ending, because Ferris wants to write about more serious subjects on his own.

Franklin is not too happy about this, especially because he didn't actually do any of the writing, he just handled the publicity, while Ferris did the all the real work. So what the hell is he going to do now? Why, kill his partner and collect the insurance money of course! So this is what he does. Franklin believes he's devised a bulletproof plan to bump off his partner. A plan so clever, no one will be able to see through it. No one except Lt. Columbo.


REVIEW

The Columbo format is fairly unusual in serialized TV, because the identity of the killer and the exact nature of his (or her) crime is revealed to us upfront. This also means that our title character never shows up until 10 or 20 minutes have passed, which is also unusual. And when he does show up we're not meant to guess along with the cunning detective, like in so many other crime shows, because we're not dealing with a traditional mystery. Instead of trying to figure out how the killer thinks, we have to figure out how the detective thinks, our eyes are not focused on the trail of clues leading to the bad guy, but rather the bad guy's furious attempt to erase that trail, either through actions, or through dialogue. Truthfully Columbo (played with perfect timing by Peter Falk) is never actually the lead character, we stay with the bad guys, we rarely follow Columbo when he leaves. The format has its advantages, but certainly also its drawbacks. You don't want to watch more than a couple of Columbo episodes back to back, trust me on this.

For its first many years the Columbo series was more like a series of TV movies than a regular TV show, and the "episodes" would run somewhere between 90 and 75 minutes. This particular episode is of the short variety, which is a good thing, because those episodes tend to be better paced.


In preparation for this review I also re-watched the first two Columbo TV movies that came before, to get an idea about what Spielberg added to the show, if anything. I was actually surprised to find that almost all of the idiosyncrasies we've later come to associate with the shabby looking lieutenant were present and accounted for in his very first outing.

The episode itself is a pretty entertaining, conventional fare. Our killer is overly smug, and quite condescending towards Columbo, which makes his unavoidable downfall all the more satisfying. Also, this episode features not one, but TWO murders, so there's enough action to keep us occupied.

When turning our attention to Spielberg's contribution, it's important not to romanticize his influence. He was just a simple staff director back then, very low on the food chain. Still, the episode does feature some quite impressive elements that can only be contributed to the director, things the writers or the producers would not have been involved in. It turns out that the young Spielberg was quite an adventurous young fellow! There's a lot more experimenting going on here, than I would have expected.


The entire opening sequence, for example, plays out with nothing more than the sound of a busy typewrite on the soundtrack. Everything else is muted. The sound of the typewriter returns later, when it's incorporated into the score providing an effective heartbeat to the story. I can't help but recall Atonement (2007), where director Joe Wright uses the same technique to tie his opening together. I'm not saying that Wright copied a Columbo episode, I just think that it's an interesting and very cinematic approach to something as "trivial" as a TV show. When we get to that traditional first interrogation, at the scene of the crime, Spielberg shoots the scene in a very chaotic style. A frantic witness is questioned by two detectives in the middle of a busy, semi-dark room, intercut with handheld shots of cops trying to clean up the place. Later in the episode, when another body is found, the sound landscape consists of radio-chatter from the police band, in a sort of montage style, while the camera slowly zooms in on the scene from afar, a style reminiscent of Francis Ford Coppola's 1974 masterpiece The Conversation (1974). None of these scenes have that traditional (perhaps a bit) sleepy Columbo feel, we're familiar with. In fact I would be surprised if I found visual "stunts" like these in any show produced before the '90s!

The episode also provides us with an early example of another Spielberg favorite: The One-Shot-Scene, when Columbo interrogates a suspect, while cooking an omelet for her. The scene plays out over a few minutes, in a very tiny kitchen, and consists of nothing more than two actors and some dialogue. Rather than shooting it the traditional way - two close-ups, and a wide master shot - most of the scene is shot in one take. Spielberg repositions the camera a few times, but mostly it's the actors' pacing around that keeps the frame alive. Notice how well this scene works, compared to scenes in other shows where the actors are standing frozen on their marks in front of an unresponsive camera. The elements are the same, but the sense of dynamic that this approach brings to the scene makes all the difference.


I said earlier that we shouldn't romanticize Spielberg's contribution to this episode, but looking at the examples mentioned above, and comparing this to other episodes of the series, it's easy to get carried away. There are too many clever visual touches, and too much playing around with compositions, for this to be the work of a random director for hire.

The director behind this episode was clearly trying to prove a point.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Columbo is what he is, and the story in Murder by the Book is perhaps not any more memorable than countless other crime dramas from the '70s, however, the visual flair at display here is hard to ignore.

There's no doubt that Steven Spielberg's work in this particular episode caught the eye of the powers that be. This must have been one of the main reasons he was hired to direct a certain TV movie called The Duel (1971).

All things being equal Murder by the Book is a fun episode, and it can easily be watched out of context. So do that, and realize that even Steven Spielberg had to work for a living once, but he managed to do so, without phoning it in.

Next up: We're gonna need a bigger truck.

STATS

This-Boy-is-a-Genius-O-Meter: 4/10. There's something there. There's definitely something there.

Beard Factor: Zero. No beards. At all.

Composition: 65% crime drama, 30% police brutality, 5% murder, 0% special effects.

The Sound of Williams: Naught. Score is composed by Billy Goldenberg, but it's quite clever.

2.7.10

Spielberg Marathon - The Early Years

When little Steven took his first steps many, many years ago, were they vastly different from so many other baby steps? Could you tell - even back then - that he was going to be brilliant?

We all know who and what Steven Spielberg is now, but when did he become the filmmaker we love? How did he become the guy who doesn't need any introduction? To investigate this, my next blog marathon will focus on the early works of Steven Spielberg.


In other words we'll start with his early TV stuff - the Columbo episode, and the two TV films he did. Then we'll cover his feature films, stopping short of Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), which in my mind, marks the beginning of a new chapter in his professional life.

The roster looks something like this:

Columbo - Murder by the Book (1971) (TV) Review
Duel (1971) (TV) Review
Something Evil (1972) (TV)
Review
The Sugarland Express (1974)
Review
Jaws (1975)
Review
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
1941 (1979)


Over the next couple of weeks, once again coinciding with a break from my weekly podcast, I'll be re-watching and reviewing these films on this very blog. You'll notice that I haven't indicated any dates for when these reviews will appear. I do have a plan, but since this is summer, and so much can happen, I'll just play it fast and loose. You might say, I'm making this up as I go...