Transmutation-Flaw: The Faux-pa of Remaking the Icon

Standing in front of the movie theatre, staring hopelessly at the showings board, I know it's been a long Friday. I know because I must have traveled back in time, somewhere between 1951 and 1984. The obviously post-Millenium light-board flickering with advertisements and showtimes is riddled with remade fanfare. Clash of the Titans. Disney's Alice in Wonderland. A Nightmare on Elm Street. Death at a Funeral. Didn't that just come out a few years ago?

As we buy the tickets, I turn to scan upcoming movie posters, COMING SOON plastered above them in their plastic casings. The Karate Kid. Robin Hood. I'm not thinking about Pat Morita or Kevin Costner. I'm not analyzing the ethnicity of the new karate kid, nor reciting Alan Rickman's Sheriff of Nottingham lines in my head. I'm thinking about Jackie Earl Haley.

Jackie Earl Haley has a kind of silly way about him. Like Cypher from The Matrix. Biting wit, sarcasm, maybe we don't entirely take him seriously. He's currently on Fox's Human Target as the staple techno-nerd (think Abby on NCIS or early Gregg on CSI) with his own jargon and a heart-of-gold. The phrase "In English, please" is characteristically pointed at this character. But he'll turn on you. Believe it. We all did in Little Children. So, between Ronnie McGorvey and Rorschach from Watchmen, some of us tried to believe that we could accept him as Freddy Krueger, child murderer and dream assassin. We held our breath in the theatre: am I really going to be able to accept this Freddy as Freddy?

No. Sadly Not.

There are five distinct reasons why I could never accept Jackie Earl Haley as Freddy Krueger:
(1) The Make-up:: Haley kind of looks like a mix between a Naked Mole-Rat and a burned Na'vi. And is it just me or do his burns change their look throughout the film?
(2) That Voice:: Why hello, Rorschach, is that what you look like under your face-bag with the changing expressions? Didn't realize the two fictional characters existed in the same world. Maybe Silk Spectre and Dr. Manhattan can come and kill Freddy in the next one.
(3) Stop Talking, Freddy. And work on your laugh:: The only thing worse than that voice was hearing a lot of it. Krueger was very vocal about the kids learning what happened to him, why he got burned; he was constantly dropping hints that he not only needed to be vengeful, but you need to know why. Did we not learn anything from Oldboy? Exacting revenge on the ignorant is way freakier than leaving breadcrumbs.
(4) The "Have-Mercy" Pedophile:: Quit crying about how "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do!" before getting scorched to oblivion in that boiler room. Craven's Freddy murdered 20 children on Elm Street and didn't bat an eye. In fact, he enjoyed it. You take a few racy photos of a 5 year-old girl, cry about dying in a fire, then seek "revenge." Craven's Krueger was just finishing what he started. And he never cried about it.
(5) Sorry, You're just not Robert Englund:: Major apologies Haley. I know there's nothing you can do about it. But you're just not Robert Englund.

And after walking out of the theatre with my Nightmare-inclined friend looking disappointed and scarred by the direction cinema is taking, I know why this will never work. Remake after remake, Hollywood can rip characters from comics and books and recast and reboot and toy around with, but please, please, please...stop trying to Remake the Icons.

Freddy Krueger was an invention of Wes Craven who was brought to life through eight segments, EIGHT films, by Robert Englund. He created Freddy, mastered him, and turned him into a legend of the slasher screen. As far as we're concerned, Englund is Krueger (just watch Wes Craven's New Nightmare). So when a slasher newbie like Haley steps into wildly oversized shoes, he's going to fall.

And that's not the only one.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory got its remake in 2005 with the eccentric and much-beloved Johnny Depp. No way a new-kid to the weird and wild, the shoes really should have fit him when he took on Willie Wonka. But the role was flat and forced. I found his characterization lay mostly in the hair and hat and Depp's ability to use sharp, theatrical movements (kind of like the way Michael Jackson dances - something unnatural becomes natural) to accentuate the peculiar. But Willie Wonka was made and molded into Gene Wilder in 1971. His creepy-casual disregard for the children's well-being, his matter-of-fact manner, his bi-polar manic breakdown, all added a depth which Depp's Wonka severely lacked. I think, most importantly, Wilder's Wonka was inherently adult. He talked down to the children, and sometimes the adults, as a diligent CEO may speak to a McDonalds employee. Depp's Wonka was a child and came off childish, a man who did not deserve his candyland legend.

Should I even explain Gus Van Sant's 1998 mistake that was casting Vince Vaughn as Norman Bates in his remake of Psycho? I respect Van Sant's attempt to create the shot-to-shot color remake of Hitchcock's indelible thriller, but Anthony Perkin's cannot be remade or replaced as Bates. It's near blasphemy.

When it comes to using different actors throughout a series of films, I can think always of the pained attempt of Julianne Moore to play Clarice Starling in Hannibal. Jodie Foster put devotion and torment, along with a repressed naivety, into Starling. Her characterization made Starling a youthful agent, but smart and adaptable. Despite her inexperience in the field, she was crafty and courageous, doing what she needed to in order to close the case. At the end of the film, she had a further understanding of Lector, but respected and understood her inferior intelligence and could, at best, know she would always be one step behind him. Yet Moore shirked this in her reprise of Starling, and attempted to take on the "I understand him" posit. She pushed her growth of Starling away from brashly courageous in spite of her...lack of knowledge, into a kind of "I know all" confidence that made her less endearing. Less accessible. We're suppose to relate to Clarice to access Hannibal, but they both kept out of reach in the sequel.

The Shining is a peculiar case for me, particularly because I am a Stephen King fan, first and foremost. And while Kubrick's classic interpretation holds heavy (due to its diversion from the psychological freakshow that is the novel), I cannot deny the performance of my second celebrity crush, Jack Nicholson. His psycho-breakdown is iconic in its move from well-adjusted writer to homicidal maniac. "Heeeere's Johnny!" through the doorway has got to be one of the most recognizable breakthroughs in cinema-murderer history. However, in 1997, a made-for-tv movie starring Steven Weber attempted to do justice to the King's novel. The only thing lacking: Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrence. While the justice may have been served by directly portraying scenes described in the novel, Steven Weber was never as psychologically damaged (or damned) enough to remake the icon.

So, I google search the upcoming remakes and immediately I'm assaulted by the thoughts of "Who could possibly play that role?!" The list includes:
- I Spit on Your Grave; Character: Jennifer Hill
- Escape from New York; Character: Snake Plisskin
- Back to the Future; Character: Marty McFly; Character 2: Doc Brown
- Barbarella; Character: Barbarella
Some already cast icons include:
- Russell Brand as Arthur in Arthur
- Jackie Chan as Mr. Miyagi in Karate Kid

There are some who will throw their arms up and say, "But what about Heath Ledger's Joker? Can't we accept Edward Norton over Eric Bana as Bruce Banner (Hulk)? And I think we all enjoyed Al Pacino as Tony Montana in Scarface...that was a remake of an icon."

Well played, well played. But as with any one-sided argument, there tend to be exceptions. But what's more are the patterns formed by the exceptions. I called them: the Icon Rules.
Rule #1: If a character is widely accepted as many different actors, so their supporting cast may change as well. This applies to movies such as Batman and James Bond. Batman's incarnations include Michael Keaton, Adam West, Val Kilmer, Christian Bale, and George Clooney. And in such, we allow Christian Bale to have his own adversary in Joker, and do not hold a standard of Nicholson's Joker to Ledger. And Q and Money Penny do not have to hold true because Connery is gone and we accept Craig, but only because it took us Lazenby, Moore, Dalton, and Brosnan to get there. (I reference again Silence of Lambs. Perhaps Moore would have been an acceptable Starling had Hannibal Lector been portrayed by someone other than Anthony Hopkins?)
Rule #2: Reboots are not remakes. Reboots are these ridiculous exceptions which hold the idiom: "if it was made within the last 5 years and didn't do as well as expected, we can do it again before it goes stale." Films like Hulk, The Fantastic Four, Spiderman. Because we have yet to fully invoke the icon-presence of the character, we can accept others as trying again. Kind of like being a pinch-hitter: the pre-madonna pitchers got their chance, but frankly, we think you can do it better without getting hurt (in the figurative, career-wise way).
Rule #3: What do you mean that's a remake? If a majority of the world exists blissfully ignorant of the original, then remakes are acceptable. Perhaps even necessary. Without a strong cult following, and the likelihood of seeing the film outside of a film history class at close to zero, then remakes of iconic figures are allowed and perhaps encouraged.
Rule #4: It's foreign. Think....The Departed. Let Me In. The Ring. It's even better if you can change the name to make it nearly unable to find out there exists an original. Hollywood has some belligerent rule that it has the right to make anything itself. The characters were created, shaped, and accepted in a country other than our own, therefore creating them in a world with a different language and look tends to work with a mild respect for the first. We're not trying to do it better, we're just trying to make it more accessible to our audience.

With all the grandeur of "hope for Hollywood," I recognize that the opinions stated above are not always widely accepted. Many respect the process of character transmutation and live by the stigma of "making a character one's own," which is undeniably respectable. But the base factor of the cinematic icon, the truth of reinvention and re-imagination, the only real instances when it DOES NOT and WILL NOT work, is when the actor and character become synonymous in the filmic world.
I return to Freddy Krueger/Robert Englund.
They equal each other, mark each other, they made each other. Englund's career is solely important as an actor because of Krueger. While he can go and play many a role, embrace many an endeavor (often well), he is recognized as Krueger and Krueger as Englund.
Principle Icons that will inevitably end in tragedy should a remake occur include:
Snake Plisskin from Escape from New York
Duckie from Pretty in Pink
Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High
Pee Wee Herman from Pee Wee's Big Adventure & TV
John McClane from Die Hard
Ripley from Alien

I have accepted and understand that hope does not exist for these Icons of Cinema to be remade. All will continue to smile politely and say "Why yes, (Insert actors name here) did make that role their own," however, we will never truly accept them. They will be constantly compared to the original, definitely ridiculed by die-hard fans, and inevitably deemed a lesser-version of the former. Frankly, I don't know why an actor would want to portray an "Icon". But they keep on trying.

Trailer Comment Weekly, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World

The much-anticipated trailer was unleashed on the universe last week to much excitement and hoopla (that week the final volume of the graphic novel series the film is based on was also announced). So without further ado (if you haven’t seen it yet):



And now, the reactions!

Dax Schaffer:

You mean, "Finally, a Michael Cera film worth watching." It seems like with both this and "Kick Ass," we've gone full circle back to "Mystery Men," instead of the continuously serious takes on super-hero stories. I welcome the sillyness, because the concept of a super hero always has been slightly silly. But I am not sure if I can accept these films as intellectual parody, of just an offshoot way of continuing to monopolize on the super-hero movie industry. Looks fun, but is there anything about these movies to say what Mystery Men didn't already say about super heroes way back when? I do rather like the visual aesthetic though, nice to see someone going full-throttle with the visual iconography of an actual comic book.

Nicola Balkind:

Could it be? Are we about to witness a film where Michael Cera plays a character other than George Michael from Arrested Development? Perhaps not, but Scott Pilgrim definitely looks to have some balls! Edgar Wright's direction looks to empower the film with his signature dark yet colourful frenetic energy. There's a certain lack of pretense in combining comic book devices with mobile camerawork where pows, thwacks, and thuds abound. A strong first trailer -- let's hope they don't give too much away in the full-length previews that follow. Perfect as a stand-alone teaser; I'm convinced!

Catie Moyer:

Comic Book Madness. Pow. Konk. Wham. But C.U.s of Michael Cera throwing brow-furrowed punches make me grimace. He looks very young in this, must be the hair. But hope remains! Edgar Wright is sure balance comedy and action. I already love Adam West Batman take on the action sequences!

Evan Koehne:

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is an appropriate title. Cera's voice is a little wimpy. Lee O'Malley, the writer, should get rich and famous off of this, which he deserves. Long Live Scott Pilgrim no matter what medium you discover him in!

Steven Ray Morris:
Currently I am on a Scott Pilgrim high and watching this trailer was exhilarating from the first frame ‘til the last. I understand the trailer is more marketed towards the general public not the comic book toting, videogame on the brain folks who have fallen in love with Bryan O’Malley’s graphic novel series. With that said, I trust Edgar Wright to deliver his third winner.



Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World comes out in theaters everywhere August 13th, 2010. Get your quarters ready!

Link:
Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World on IMDB

Why Is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

The answer: because Linda Woolverton cannot write Lewis Carroll's characters, or think of any new dialogue.

In the aftermath of watching the new Alice in Wonderland, and the purpose-driven characters with morals and desires (yeah, this is NOT Carroll's Wonderland), we made a list for Mr. Burton.

(2010) Tim Burton's 6 Impossible Things Before Breakfast:
(1) Do not cast Johnny Depp in the film.
(2) Do not cast Helena Bonham Carter in the film.
(3) Do not use Danny Elfman to score the film.*
(4) Get out of Disney's armpit.
(5) Stop being cute-quirky, like a rubber duckie that's pink instead of yellow. Ducks are yellow, stop trying to be pink!
(6) Stop making adaptations.

I miss the days of Ed Wood, Mars Attacks, and Beetlejuice. There was something more...pure about them.
That's all for now.
I'm looking forward to Frankenweenie. It may be a remake, but it's HIS remake.

*Please note I have profound love and respect for the talents of Depp, Carter, and Elfman. I just want to see Burton try to work without them for a change.

The Wolfman's Claws: A Rebuttle.

*WARNING: This post includes some spoilers as well as prolific, overstated sarcasm*

Visual Effects? Visual Effects? I am mildly appalled. Is this all we care about anymore? Have we become so anesthetized to big budget that we no longer appreciate the base wonder of a conventional horror film?

I want to take a trip back to the 1930s. Specifically 1931, the release of Tod Browning's Dracula. I still consider this one of the scariest films of all time, and it's because it breaks into that realm of horror so often forgotten in today's films. The slow rise of Bela Lugosi from his tomb, the quiet seduction of all your senses via fog, full moons, and wolf howls so you're easily snapped by the vampire's bite. It's that classic, conventional treastise we've made with those old horror films to not spark an immediate reaction that make us jump and squirm, but create a lasting atmosphere, an ambiance, that makes us pause before we enter a dark corridor.

So, ten years later, the original Wolfman was released and adopted the same style and tone as its monster movie predecessors. Heavy shadows, fog, dark woods, mysterious gypsy curses, and a story that proves ultimately superficial to the overall fact that we're dealing with an exploitation, of sorts, of the supernatural. But we still watch, entertained, because we enjoy the spooky thrill.

Might I add both films were Universal releases.

Now, you are probably rolling your eyes right now. You're shrugging off my exploration and reverence for those which came before because it's 2010. These things don't scare us anymore. We are scared by the horrific nature of a murder. The jumps and frights of blood splashing on a camera lens. The unexpected assault on our senses when we have a close-up of a neck being ripped open. However, I've come to find that kind of thing commonplace now. Visual effects may have made this Wolfman more modernly accessable, but c'mon. We substitute CGI bears because they kinda look real enough and god forbid we have a real angry bear on set. It's not like we have trainers for these things. Let's not be bothered by liability forms when we can just pretend a bear exists and add it in later. Yes, we're all so happy for that kind of visual effect.

I believe a serious risk was taken by Johnson and company, because they didn't compromise the original for a modernized bastardization. So easily could we accept something dry and overtold as long as it looks brilliant. Costs a lot of money. Directed by James Cameron. Sorry, wrong topic.

Now here we have an original story of a man who's lost his brother to a mysterious wolflike entity. Examining the gypsy camp to find out more about this monster, the man is bitten, infected, and wrought with the overwhelming task of understanding his past to overcome his future...as a werewolf. The dry, incosequential investigator, Detective Abberline, is not the bad ass detective (I'm sorry to all of you who expected Agent Smith part four), but a narrative device simply used to move Lawrence Talbot's (Del Toro) story forward. Would the suspense have been building as strongly had he not been chased back to the Blackmoor estate? The story isn't The Detective...it's The Wolfman.

The mild sense of romance surrounding Gwen (Blunt) and her inevitable rise to heroine seems more a sense of love transference than true love. Love for the man who came to your aide when your would be husband is mauled by a supernatural entity would result in a obligatory adoration, to get a little psychological with it. She would feel somewhat responsible for what is happening to him, and thus thrust herself into a position where she may help him, and according the gypsy elders, that's love. I consider the fact reconciled.

Sure, the film has moments of campy conventionality: Sir John Talbot (Hopkins) ripping off his shirt post-transformation (it's the werewolf shirt vs. skins match of the century), and the fact that Gene Simmons provides the werewolf's howl. But the fact remains, this film revers its predecessor instating a nostalgia most adaptations cast aside for "Hollywoodization," and utilizes the advancements film techonology can offer to enhance a monster movie classic. The jump out of your seat scares and truely haunting imagery displays a wistfulness for the old school craft of horror. And I feel that many people knock this film because of the regard they hold for the actors (Del Toro, Hopkins, Weaving) and not for the subdued nature of the characters in favor a driving story.

Unfortunately, people go for names now, and hold certain expectations based on those names. That's going to disappoint, because this film is what truely classic horror was and still could be (as it proves), but it seems we just don't care anymore.

I'm going to see Scorcese's new film Shutter Island tonight. Ben Kingsley, Mark Ruffalo, Leo DeCaprio, Michelle Williams.
Fuck, I just want to go see a thriller about a mental institution.

People Looking At Art (a photo series)

Not really film related...sort of...anyway read onward!

As I got swallowed up by the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) while in New York City this past December I noticed a lot of people taking photographs of paintings...I found this a bit odd (although I soon became just as guilty). Why do we feel the need to photograph paintings? Are we going to print it huge at home and use it as a masterpiece doppelganger? Proof to our more skeptical friends? "Yes I did see the Les Demoiselles d'Avignon!! And here's the photograph to prove it!"

Anyway, I took it open myself to take photos of the people either taking photos of art, simply looking at it or even taking photos with the paintings!

Take a look...


#1


#2a


#2b


#3


#4a


#4b


#5


#6


#7


#8a


#8b


#9


#10a


#10b

I tried to come up with witty phrases for each one, but I'm not that funny and you guys and gals can do better. GO!

the wolfman has no claws

so i saw the wolfman. i've been looking forward to it with mild interest for about 2 years now. "hey. benny del toro as the fucking wolfman? anthony fucking hopkins as his dad? hugo fucking weaving as the detective hell-bent on blasting his face off with a big gun? fuck yes!" i thought.

the only thing this film has going for it are its sweet visual effects. lots of entertaining murder happens in this film. if you like watching a hairy manbeast spill people's intestines, cut off heads, joyously rip off limbs, and throw people at things, and things at people, you'll probably love it.

however, if you enjoy films where not just entertaining murder, but additional things also happen which make you, like, i dunno, give a shit, you should pass. "what about the characters, what about the drama?" i can hear you ask me. good question. unfortunately, i am also wondering these things. characters? what fucking characters? this is a film where a bunch of things happen to people, and they react in various ways, and go to various locations, and occasionally say things to each other. that's about it. while the barest thread of a character arc exists for a couple of people, hugo weaving's detective abberline is the most hilariously impotent character of all time. he basically shows up, says "we gotta get this wolf!" and pursues the wolf for a couple of scenes. what the fuck, hugo. you came out of semiretirement for THIS? and the limp-dick "no, benicio del toro! we can't be lovers, i was your brother's wife!" romance subplot was about the least engaging screen romance ever.

there were several moments were the film was so obviously watered down in the editing room. watered down with sour piss. what is the deal with that big fart of an ending?

*SPOILERS*
if the writers had any balls at all, they would have had Hugo Weaving blast his head off after he was bitten. i mean what the hell, the werewolves have been killed and he stands there in front of everyone like "...oh shit." no one bothers to point out that he's going to turn into a fucking werewolf and continue to terrorize the countryside for decades. this is his one chance in the story to prove his worth, to show whether he's truly dedicated to killing the beast once and for all. how dramatic and character-revealing, right? right at that moment i was like "yes! maybe this diabetic film that has as much energy as my grandma after a four-hour sunday brunch at Hometown Buffet will slightly redeem itself with a firecracker ending!"

but no, of course not. no one says a thing, it skips the conflict entirely and cuts away. then the film quickly ends with a shot of a full moon or whatever and the sound of a werewolf howling. HOW FUCKING SPOOKY. i suspect a suicide conclusion was filmed, then shit on by a studio executive and burned. on the plus side, i guess the ambiguous ending gives us room for sequels. SIGH.

on a final note, in the trailer, a glass-eating badass villager delivers the following badass exposition: "twas 25 years ago that me father found 'im. he was tore to pieces and half-eaten, with brens and gots spilled all round..." etc. this scene popped up in the film and the guy was DUBBED OVER in a higher pitch and with less of an accent. god dammit. you idiots.

A Theory, of Film

What is Film Theory, you ask?

Here's a step-by-step, easy to follow guide, with example essay:

When you watch a film and a character goes to the bathroom, all you ever see is an image of their face and upper body.
(Always start at the beginning of an argument, don't start with your conclusion. You're not the Orson Wells of film theory.)

This is because culturally, it has been considered lewd to depict close-ups of an anus actually pooping, while visual replacement (of "anus" with "constipated face") is more akin to literary "metaphor".
(Indicate some strange inconsistency in human behavior to get the ball rolling, and use words like "culturally," or "in contemporary culture".)

As Mulvey postulated in "The Nature of the Gaze," working closely with psychoanalytic Freudian film theories, we viewers identify ourselves with the characters we see on screen, and demand "identification of the ego with the object on the screen."
(Be sure to mention some film theorists you have been reading about in class and let someone reading know that you know what they said. Remember, to the professor these people aren't just theorists, they're friends.)

When we go to the bathroom, we think not of steady breathing, clenching sphincters, sitting over a whole in the woods, or any number of other images we could attach to "pooping," we imagine ourselves in those same medium shots we have seen John Travolta, Brad Pitt, and any numbers of screen idols in hundreds of times.
(Connect the dots for everyone and come up with a few examples, however vague they may be.)

Thus, we have become accustomed to the presentation of certain images in cinema becoming the "symbols" with which we construct a mental self-image analogous with that of the on-screen image depicting specific daily activities.
(Conclude with something deep, intellectual and convolutedly worded, or more likely, restate some famous theorist's ideas in a "contemporary" way.)

Humans are very impressionable, and drawn to order.
(Go for the gold.)

It only makes sense that continued exposure to cinematic images create the "signs" by which we create our world.
(Restate anything you said in the last paragraph. Also, any opportunity you get, use the words "signs," "signified," or "signifier." No one will ever give you a solid definition of what they actually are, so use them liberally and with panache.)

In conclusion, there should be more shots of anuses pooping than are currently in contemporary cinema.
(Make your point absolutely clear.)