Writing Homework Help

Giannetti, Chapter 7: Dramatization



“Most of the meanings in the theater are found in words, which are densely saturated with information. For this reason, drama is generally considered a writer’s medium” (Giannetti 289).



The above is a helpful point to remember when we approach cinema as opposed to an art form like theater. It would be easy to oversimplify movies as more-or-less stage plays, captured with cameras. Of course, in an age of CGI and special effects-driven spectacles, most of us understand that movies offer something different (note: not “better” or “worse”!) than theater. If theater is primarily about words (and, I would say, performance), then movies are primarily about camera-driven visuals (and directing). More on this to come.



Attend closely and think carefully about Giannetti’s thoughts about adaptation, the process of converting a text (such as a stage play) to another medium (such as a film), on p. 289. All too often, when people discuss adaptations, they’re apt to ask only one question about it: which version was better, the book or the movie? Instead of jumping straight to this question, it would be more productive and nuanced first to ask what “superiority” even means in this regard. Giannetti helpfully points out that cinema is primarily a visual medium, even if it also demands use of other senses, such as hearing. I would suggest that when people say that “the book was better than the movie,” they often reflect a popular tendency to see literature as superior to the visual arts, especially movies. This likely happens unconsciously, without the critic’s awareness of this prejudice. But ask anyone who’s experienced The Princess Bride in both novel and film versions, and most people believe that the movie is superior. Ultimately, though, movies and films are apples and oranges, and insisting on this kind of quality comparison (“which is better?”) is a square peg in a round hole. People have different tastes and will prefer one to the other, but that rarely means that one “is” better than the other.



Giannetti points out on pages 285 and 288 that nudity is usually seen as less controversial on the movie screen than it is in a live stage performance. But then consider other artistic media: painting and sculpture have featured the unadorned human form for centuries if not millennia, and these days a painted or sculpted nude is almost always less controversial than a filmed or photographed one. (Consider the likelihood of seeing young children peruse an art gallery versus attending an R-rated movie.) Nudity often elicits increased attention in movie audiences, since film remains a fairly realistic medium of visual representation. A couple of our films in this course feature moments of nudity. I would challenge you to take a small step forward regarding this element, moving past what may at first be a heightened sense of awareness of what is on the screen and toward the more delicate question of how the human body is being represented in this particular instance. Consider how strikingly different are depictions of nudity in (1) Children of Men, (2) Lost in Translation, and (3) Daisies. In Children of Men, it’s in the context of a pregnant woman in a suggesting setting surrounded by cows (think “milk” and “maternal”). In Lost in Translation, there’s a strip club (albeit one the main characters quickly exit). And in Daisies, see how fine the line is not just between “nudity” and non-nudity, but nudity that objectifies women rather than being a tool for women to mock stereotypical men. In the case of Lost in Translation and Daisies, these are films directed by women and are largely about women. Thus, stereotypical nudity that simply treats women as objects is less likely to be present.



Hopefully the section (beginning on p. 296) about “The Director” is interesting to you. The heritage of Western art and literature, from which many of us hearken, places an enormous emphasis on the artist or the author. This emphasis has trickled down to the movies, even though it’s not always appropriate. The fact is, the director is often the one with the most control over what the film eventually becomes. However, cinema is an incredibly collaborative medium: just watch an entire closing credits sequence sometime! Particularly in a large-budget Hollywood movie, thousands of people were involved in the making of a film, most of whom made decisions (consciously or unconsciously) without the explicit input of the director. The director stipulates what’s supposed to happen, or at least what the result should look like, but almost innumerable details result from factors that simply can’t be controlled: an actor’s twitch, a piece of scenery, the weather, etc. Each of these details remains important in our experience of the film and in creating meaning, but they can’t all be boiled down to the active decisions of a single director. Now, that being said, we are watching some films in this course with particularly prolific and deliberate directors. In some of these cases (but not all!), the studios gave the directors an unusual amount of freedom from interference. So when we speak about “Alfred Hitchcock’s North By Northwest” or “Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane,” we’re fairly and reasonably highlighting directors whose fingerprints are all over these films. After seeing these, you can go watch other Hitchcock or Welles films and begin to see consistencies in style and approach.



Under the sub-heading of “Settings and Decor” in Chapter 7, be thinking about Lost in Translation, particularly on p. 310. You’ve already seen films that are excellent examples of shooting both on-location (Children of Men, North By Northwest) and studio sets (Citizen Kane, M, North By Northwest). Lost in Translation was shot entirely on-location in Japan, lending itself to the major theme of Americans who feel displaced in a familiar yet different world. In one particular scene, the character of Bob (played by Bill Murray) is on a film set. In another, he’s on a TV show. In a later photographic shoot, he is even asked to mimic certain movie characters (e.g., Frank Sinatra, James Bond). In another scene, Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) joins Bob to watch clips of his old movies. Interestingly, archival TV and movie footage of Bill Murray was used for these scenes that the characters watch on their hotel TV. 



Chapter 8: Story



First off, let’s make one thing clear: when I use the term “narrative” in this course, I’m generally talking about story, but also something more than that. I bring this up because someone might raise the fair question, “Why do you use the word ‘narrative’ when you could simply say ‘story’?” The “story,” properly speaking, is what you think it is: it’s what happens in the film/book/play/etc. Take note, however: sometimes you do not actually see everything that happens in the story. For example, if you find out that a couple was married by hearing a different character talking about it, that is part of the story, even if the film didn’t take you to the wedding. As opposed to the story, “plot” is the way in which the story is presented in the movie. Sometimes the plot includes flashbacks, flash-forwards, dream sequences, or can even be presented in reverse (see a film like Memento). So while the story is the series of events that you can chart out chronologically, the plot is the unique way in which a film orders the story’s events. Narrative includes both of these, so I tend to use this term in a more general sense. Giannetti’s first subheading in Chapter 8 is “Narratology,” which is simply the study of narrative in its various forms. (Giannetti discusses some of this distinction on p. 332.)

Questions to consider:

How is Lost in Translation bracketed, narratively? How is the story bookended? Hint: the film begins and ends with similar images, so explore how this functions narratively.



In reference to both “story” and the “author,” note that Sofia Coppola was the first American woman to be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director. Within the story, do you see the fingerprints (as it were) of a woman at the helm? Does it strike you as different from the men-directed films we’ve screened prior to this? 



The next subheading, “The Spectator,” explores the role of the audience when watching movies. I’ve noticed that students often have trouble knowing how to refer to the person(s) watching a film. They sometimes use terms like, “watcher,” “viewer,” or “theater-goer.” While these terms may have their place, I invite you to use the terms “spectator” and “audience,” as they’re typically more specific to the movies and consistent with conventions of film discourse. When you watch a movie, you are a spectator. The broader group of spectators that watches a film is the audience. This can be transhistorical. The “audience” of Citizen Kane, for example, has spanned almost 75 years!



Take note of the quotation from the famous French director Jean-Luc Godard that Giannetti cites on p. 335: when asked if a film should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, Godard replied, “Yes—but not necessarily in that order.” Godard is essentially tapping into the difference between story and plot that I outlined above, as well as the power of the director to arrange events in any way s/he wishes. Some people actually feel that there are only a few stories that have ever been written. The big differences boil down to plot, how old, recycled stories get told in different ways.



Giannetti does well to argue that the spectator’s role in watching a film is not (merely) passive. We often think about going to the movies this way: “I just want to sit back and be entertained,” I’ve heard people say. But even when we just want entertainment, we’re doing work in our brains, putting story pieces together, processing jokes, recalling points of reference, and making guesses as to what will happen next. Not only our brains, but our bodies are engaged in the process of watching movies. Film scholar Linda Williams has written an influential and thoughtful essay about what she calls the “body genres,” genres of films that provoke bodily responses: melodrama, horror, and pornography. Perhaps you can think of more, such as comedy and its eliciting of laughter. There are moments in Lost in Translation that contain such beauty that they bring out the goosebumps in some of us.



Giannetti’s section “The Classical Paradigm” is potentially helpful in pointing out how a formula exists for constructing traditional (especially Hollywood) film narratives. We probably look at this and don’t immediately recognize it, but if you were to break down most movies you’ve seen, you’d be surprised how many reflect this formula. Does Lost in Translation strike you as formulaic in some sense, or contrary to the film formula? What things about it are/aren’t formulaic?



Lost in Translation could be described as abiding by each of the seven traits of realistic narratives that Giannetti lists on p. 345. For the Discussion, you can choose to show how specific features of the film either do function consistently with these traits or violate them.



The section on “genre” on p. 354 holds up: genre is “a loose set of expectations…not a divine injunction.” There’s no authority out there who gets to say what a genre is or isn’t, and even the most perfect example of a given genre probably has moments of deviation from its genre’s textbook definition. Genres primarily exist for audiences, ways for movies to appeal to certain forms and formulas that have appeals to audiences in the past and are likely to do so again, with some subtle differences. Whether you are aware of it or not, when you sit down to watch a murder mystery, you have certain expectations about what you will experience. You may be disappointed or delighted if the film runs contrary to those expectations. These days, this practice is quite common. As you prepare to watch Daisies, consider how comfortably the film fits into a particular genre. 



Chapter 9: The Screenwriter



The excerpt from the North By Northwest screenplay (pp. 383-386) should be quite familiar to you, having seen the film so recently! As you read it, replay the scene in your memory and take note of the level of detail contained in the screenwriting.



The sections on motifs, symbols, and metaphors might be confusing, so don’t worry too much about it. Fine lines distinguish these ideas, and even some of Giannetti’s examples are up for debate. I would warn you to be careful about symbolism, however, Students often gravitate toward symbolic readings of films, assuming that this is an easy route to take. So for example, consider any number of elements in Lost in Translation: the underwear in the opening scene, the whiskey, Bob’s camouflage shirt, or the origami. Motif? Symbol? Metaphor? A case could probably be made for each. But before jumping to any of them, it’s first best to look carefully at how these elements function in the film. Do they show up once or repeatedly? How do characters treat it or talk about it? What is its narrative significance? To what extent does the camera pay attention to them? You should probably avoid writing about this in the Discussion, unless you have a particularly strong argument about a certain element. My main challenge is for you to examine these details closely before judging them to be symbolic, metaphoric, etc.



For Discussion, one of your options is to write about a certain feature of Lost in Translation that relates a previous week’s reading material to this week’s. Show how you can integrate something like mise-en-scène with something like narrative or dramatization. Regardless of what you write about, try to form at least one statement that elucidates something from the film, saying something about it in relation to the readings that isn’t immediately obvious.