Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Eric Smoodin describes Snow White’s character as “under-developed,” “Her songs tell us broadly of her outlook and desires, about whistling while she works and hoping that someday she will find her prince.” P.78. On the surface, this judgment would appear to be apparent and correct. However, to call the entirety of her character “under-developed” would seem limiting as she plays a crucial role in the progression of the story. The plot is triggered by her character, and it would not exist if it were not for her existence. Snow White’s lips are red as the rose, her hair is black as ebony, and her skin is white as snow. The precision of this description accentuates her physical perfection, and it is as though she were not real. However, is beauty her only value? I prefer to place her in a much higher rank than that, and to compare her to an element of divinity.

The dwarfs look up to Snow White as if she were their fairy godmother. Snow White’s kindheartedness and patience teaches them how to take better care of themselves, and how to embrace life. When Snow White is punished by the apple of sin, her presence is resuscitated before she even wakes up from her death: the words that appear on the screen are, “so beautiful even in death, that the dwarfs could not find it in their hearts to bury her.” In other words, Snow White’s beauty persists as if she were immortal, like a goddess. Moreover, she will eventually resuscitate. The next title card says that the dwarfs build her a coffin of glass and gold, “and kept eternal vigil at her side.” The next shot portrays the dwarfs kneeling around her coffin, in prayer, venerating her. They bring her flowers as if they were offerings to a god. The glass and gold coffin accentuates the divinity of the scene. The brightness of Snow White’s skin and clothing brings out the godlike aspect of the image, in contrast to the darker palate of the dwarfs and the landscape blending together.

Another element of Snow White’s sacredness is portrayed by her connection with nature. The forest becomes her home, and although it appears haunting at first, it quickly becomes a place of comfort and protection for her. The animals come to her rescue when she is lost and abandoned. The dwarf’s house appears out of nowhere, between layers of branches, in the depth of the forest as if it were also an element of the forest. The animals work in unison with Snow White. They communicate with her, assist, and guard her at all times. The only times they fail to do so, is when she rejects them for being overprotective. They recognize the queen in disguise and begin to attack her, “Stop that, get away! Go on, Shoo!” says Snow White, taking pity on  “poor old Granny.” This will mark the descend towards the denouement of the plot.    

The Prince’s presence is somewhat enigmatic in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, as if he were also a God or a symbol of the divine Love. Snow White doesn’t see the Prince right away when he appears for the first time at the beginning of the film. She looks down into the well and sings: “I’m wishing for the one I love to find me.” The next shot appears to be a POV shot of the inside of the well. The water is in the foreground and Snow White is in the background of the shot facing the water, therefore directly at the camera. Following this, the Prince appears and concludes her song by singing “Today.” This is the first time that his face is discernable. He appears to be blurry however, due to the water of the well, as if his character were a mirage. The Prince’s surreal appearance causes Snow White to be frightened by him, and she decides to run away and seek refuge in her tower.

The Prince only appears briefly early on in the film, and ceases to appear until the end to conclude the story. His presence marks the beginning of Snow White’s aspirations, and then the fulfillments of her dream, the conclusion of the film. The Prince is not present for any of the events in most of the plot. As the title clearly indicates, the dwarfs are the second main characters of the story. As said before, the Prince acts more as a symbol of Love, and his part is not as active like the dwarfs turn out to be. The story is just as much of a coming of age tale for Snow White as it is for the dwarfs. At first, they benefit from Snow White’s help, but their pursuit to kill the queen shows a vital change in their character. Their determination to kill the queen shows that their confidence has grown.  

After such dedication coming from the dwarfs, some may find that the ending is somewhat inappropriate: Snow White leaves them as soon as her prince wakes her with a kiss of true love. Snow White has managed to repair their lives, and now she is leaving to fulfill her greatest wish. The final shot represents Snow White and her prince looking out into the horizon. The dwarfs have disappeared into the past. A castle appears in the clouds ahead, as if the future were a part of the heavens or the land of “Happily Ever After.”

FIN

PS: If only the princesses still looked like Snow White, 

Where has any sense of physical proportion disappeared                  off to?        

           

RECENT THOUGHTS ON THE WIZARD OF OZ

I recently watched the Wizard of Oz again, and here are some thoughts I have about it now. Bearing in mind I didn't grow up in the US, so it was never presented to me as a cult film when I was younger.

Growing up in the 90s, black and white films already seemed like an ancient technique. When a 90s child repeatedly watched the Wizard of Oz, his or her favorite part was without a doubt the enchanted colorful world of Oz. The impatience to see the color appear on the screen was so great that a child would find himself fast forwarding his videotape to the Technicolor world of Oz. Oz drew a magical picture of a fantasy world with glistening corn fields, colorful horses, and roads made out of yellow bricks.

However, interpretations change as the audiences mature. When placed in the historical context of the late 1930s, a much darker meaning is associated to Oz and Kansas. At the opening of the film, Dorothy walks hastefully on a dirt road with her beloved Toto. The road is marked off by fences. Whether is be running away from home in Kansas, in search of the Wizard in Oz, Dorothy’s path is always marked off by fences, trees or mountains. She can only follow the dirt roads, or the yellow brick road. Although the scenery surrounding her is vast, there is only one path Dorothy can rely on. These limits echoed the sense of oppression felt in the US in the final years of the 1930s. The USA was recovering from the Great Depression but far from liberated by it. Dorothy’s instincts tell her to go home, but once she returns, certain things are still left unresolved: Is Kansas really that nice of a place? Whatever happened to Miss Gulch?

The only difference between Oz and Kansas is how they appear on the surface, black and white versus color. The use of black and white is meant to portray the “reality” of Kansas whereas the use of color is meant to portray the fantasy world of Oz. However, both worlds do collide into one another as the dream sequence begins in black and white, and doesn’t change to color until Dorothy’s house lands on Oz. Therefore both the dream world, and Kansas are blended into one. Oz is just as corrupt if not more than Kansas. Oz suffers from the tyranny of the Wicked Witch of the West, whom it turns out is also disapproved by her own guards. Additionally, the Wizard is a pawn who offers fake protection to his people. On the other hand, things are a lot more black and white in Kansas. Dorothy’s family is threatened by Miss Gulch’s power and wealth. The latter wishes to buy off Dorothy’s family’s farm and land. She is also willing to sentence Toto to death. “Professor Marvel,” the fortune-teller in Kansas, and the Wizard in Oz (both played by Frank Morgan), are both frauds, and act more as therapist figures towards the other characters rather than active political figures. The Wizard and Professor Marvel encourage the other characters of The Wizard of Oz to take care of themselves by improving their self-confidence. This could also have affected the audience in the late 1930s to give them hope for a brighter future.

Additionally, there is a sense of mise-en-abime (the same frame is repeated within itself) at the beginning of the dream sequence. Dorothy sits up on her bed after having been knocked out by the broken window. Meanwhile, her house is up in the air caught in the tornado. She looks out the window as elements of her life fly by. Dorothy sees a chicken coop, a cow, turkeys, Aunt Em knitting on a rocking chair, and Miss Gulch on her bicycle. The window could be interpreted as a metaphor for the Television for it is very clearly framed and marked out. Dorothy is fascinated by it as if she were looking at a TV screen. The mise-en-abime is brought forward between the audience watching The Wizard of Oz and Dorothy looking out her window. The audience is repeating the same activity as the subject on the screen. For both the audience and Dorothy, the window and the TV is used as a distraction and an escape. Moreover, both Dorothy and the audience return to square one at the end of the film; Dorothy returns to her home, and the audience returns to reality.

THOUGHTS ON CLOUDS OF SILS MARIA

Olivier Assayas’ most recent achievement tells the story of a famous actress, Maria Enders (played by Juliette Binoche) cast in a play in which she has already acted twenty years previously. However this time, her part has changed. She is cast to play the part of the older woman, rather than the part of the young twenty year old character.

The play, Maloja Snake, is about a woman who falls in love with her young assistant. The two begin a compassionate, and arduous affair. The young assistant takes control of their relationship, and ends up leaving her boss for a better job. The younger part is interpreted by Chloë Grace Moretz who plays the part of a famous up-and-coming provocative star, Jo-Ann Ellis. She is subject to many tabloid scandals. This does not impress Maria who spends a large portion of the film reflecting and questioning whether or not she should really take the job. She is unable to leave it, the conditions of her contract are too strict, and withdrawing would be too costly. Maria rehearses her part with her loyal assistant Valentine (Kristen Stewart), and frequently questions her identity as well as her status as an actress. 

These sequences all take place against the backdrop of the picturesque mountains of Zurich where Maria and Valentine are offered to stay at the home of Maria’s recently deceased friend, Wilhelm Melchior, who is also the author of Maloja Snake.

The mise-en-abime, the play in a film effect (which is also explored in Assayas’ Irma Vep, as a film in a film) takes on a much wider and epic scale, quite unlike any other Assayas’ movies. Clouds of Sils Maria does not take on the same independent feel that some of Assayas’ earlier works seem to have (Summer Hours first comes to mind for example). The film is a combination of Mainstream and Independent, and embarks the viewer on a scenic journey, as well as dense retrospective on the identity of its characters. Maria and Valentine revise, and repeat the lines for the play. Their emotion seems genuine and raw. The rehearsals take on such a real feel that the audience is confused, and tricked into thinking whether or not the characters are rehearsing for the play or in fact reciting their actual lines for the film. Assayas blends the lines between the reality of the play rehearsal, and the actors acting for the film.

Juliette Binoche plays the part of the older character and her young assistant Valentine, keeps her in touch with the modern world. The two worlds collide with one another. The classical music blaring loud throughout somehow blends naturally with the electronic music over the view of the mountains. The film also shows the impact of technology not only intruding the life of the individuals but also as a key to their development. Maria contradicts herself when she first conveys that the “internet tells lies,” and goes on to adopt quite a voyeuristic behavior when she constantly looks up pictures and Youtube videos of Jo-Ann Elis on her Ipad. Jo-Ann’s videos show her in her most vulnerable state, where she gets arrested and is ridiculed during interviews on the news. Maria’s character is inevitably drawn to technology as a means of comforting and confirming her negative judgment towards Jo-Ann.

The roles of the characters are duplicated between their role in Maloja Snake and their roles in Clouds of Sils Maria. This duplication is often conveyed through the  numerous reflections of the characters on the windows, the cars and mirrors. Nature is also reflected in direct juxtaposition with the characters. One of the sequences that come to mind is when the characters are being driven, and the clouds are reflected on the windows of the car. The images of the clouds and the protagonists directly overlap one another. 

The overwhelming presence of the clouds highlight the power of nature balanced with the characters in the film. The cars not only direct the characters from one location to the other, but the emphasis is given to the scenery of the journey as if it were directly attributed to the journey of the protagonist. The visual effect takes over the presence of the characters who seem superimposed against the clouds, as if they were floating directly into them. The scene takes on a more abstract and celestial tone as if the characters were removed from the reality of the scene. The audience is encouraged to not only think outside the box, but to simply allow themselves to dream in harmony with the elements they are exposed to.  

Binoche fits the part perfectly. Some might argue that the ending of the film is open ended because there is not much of a denouement. However, Binoche’s character sits assertively on her office chair, on stage, as the curtain is about to come up. She lights a cigarette and reveals a brief tension in her jaw, as if she were smiling and contemplating her future. The cigarette might expose a sense of vulnerability but the overall sense we get from her character is acceptance of her situation. This is refreshing to say the least. Maps to the Stars (2014, David Cronenberg) is also a modern interpretation of the concept of the the aging celebrity. However, it is much more explicit and clear that Havana Segrand (played by Julianne Moore) is defeated by her own pride and contempt, when she is murdered by her assistant Agatha Weiss (played by Mia Wasikowska) at the end of the film. (SPOILER Agatha murders Havana because she couldn’t stop herself from sleeping with Agatha’s lover as a way to prove to herself that although she is older, she is also still attractive) Binoche’s character in Clouds of Sils Maria reveals nothing of the sort. She is in no way defeated by her ego as Moore’s character was in Maps to the Stars.

One could write a whole dissertation about this 124 min long feature (this could seem relatively long considering that most of the scenes are centered around two - four protagonists). Assayas has achieved a rich celebration of themes previously explored in his films. However, he is in no way “recycling,” but rather perfecting and extending those themes through the challenging use of the lost in translation feel through an all-international cast (French, American, Swiss- German). Clouds of Sils Maria also plays with the diversity of genres. While watching the Star-Trekesque Sci-Fi sequence with Chloe Grace Morretz who appears in an extract of her latest blockbuster, one is instantly reminded of the dream sequence in Irma Vep  when Maggie Cheung after having stolen the necklace, escapes on a rainy rooftop in Paris wearing her leather suit. 

Assayas merges the universe of the film in a film with the reality of the film. The association is clever until the very end, and somehow Assayas manages to find resolution within this dense story. He does so by presenting the unexpected, another demonstration of his great strength as a writer and director.

Still Alice

Still Alice is a film based on the novel by Lisa Genova, directed by Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland. It tells the story of a former linguistic teacher from Columbia, who is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease at the age of fifty.

Alice’s family forms a rather stereotypically perfect American family portrait. Alice Howland (Julianne Moore), and John Howland (Alec Baldwin) have two exemplary children, Anna (Kate Bosworth), a lawyer, Tom (Hunter Parrish), a doctor, and the artistic rebellious daughter, Lydia, who longs to become an actress and is played by Kristen Stewart. They form a pleasant cast, very much in tune with one another. Alice is therefore surrounded by a supportive family, and the film mostly takes place at her home near the campus of Colombia in NYC, and in part at a vacation home near the beach. 

Aesthetically speaking, the film has nothing we haven’t already seen:  still establishing shots, several steady-cam movements, and anticipated shot-reaction-shots. The picture has a familiar brightness, and depth of field, which we have grown accustomed to seeing through the lenses of DSLR cameras. The film could have been made for television, as it definitely provokes the viewer and emphasizes the emotion through the build up of the music, and the linear narrative. However, those technical aspects do not take over the essence of the film. What remains central and real is how the film treats the subject of the disease.

The film is blunt in showing the development of the disease, and every single detail in the plot counts. From a Dove soap bottle found in the fridge to subtle hints of OCD on her phone, we understand that Alice is holding on to what she can, and the details of her life at home is all she has to hang on to.

Julianne Moore’s performance is outstandingly convincing in its subtlety. Her character is restrained and smart. She breaks down once or twice when she is diagnosed with the disease, but her character stays strong. She struggles to keep control, and adapts rather skillfully to her illness (an example that comes to mind is she uses her phone every day to practice her memory, and answers a list of questions she had written to herself at the earlier stage of the disease).

Alice’s actions are not heroically embellished, because the reality of the disease is impossible to control. Her character resists until the disease takes over. We see her vanish, and she regresses to a childlike behavior. 

Alice is “still Alice” physically, but mentally, she is disappearing: “I am not suffering, I am struggling, struggling to be a part of things, to stay connected to who I once was.” The film is not victimizing in any way, but the bottom line and tone of the film is pure sadness. Alice’s disease makes her unaware of who she is, and one cannot help but feel the deepest sense of pity for her. 

One of the scenes I am constantly drawn to as I recall the film, is when Alice is sitting on the couch. This is near the end of the film, and the state of her disease has become critical. Alice sits alone in her living room and stares into the dining room ahead . The shot focuses on her person through a medium wide shot of her. I remember the look of innocence in her gaze. The emptiness of the room surrounding her emphasizes her solitude.   

Her children and husband are conversing in the dining room opposite where Alice is sitting.  They speak of Alice in the third person, as if she weren’t there. They discuss placing her in an institution. The camera falls back on Alice, but this time at a greater distance from the previous shot of her. The angle is placed from the point of view of the children and the husband. Alice has a faint smile on her pale face, as if lost and confused. Her silhouette reminds us of a ghostlike figure floating in the distance.

I do not recall if the camera is in motion and pans closer into Alice at this point. If it does, the movement is discreet. The image of her sitting alone on the couch is photographed in my mind like a symbol of pure vulnerability and solitude. 

Alice is a person and given her past, she has built her identity.  Yet, she seems empty now, and void of that identity.

There is no use denying the truth: bring a box of tissues or a generous shoulder to cry on. However, once the tears have been shed, embrace the pain in your heart. Your life could be taken at any time, but your strength is your awareness. The London Evening Standard said the film “affirms life.” Take the tissues, venture through the film, and venture out. Alice repeats, “living the moment,” a message that should be taken to heart  by all of us out there, alive inside and out.