The Dangers of Genre

         In his article, “Questions of Genre,” Steve Neal discusses the genesis of genres: what distinguishes one genre from another and the role of verisimilitude in identifying different aspects of genres. These probabilities that occur within each genre make it more familiar, helping the audience draw conclusions about the film. For example, if a picture is classified as a musical, the audience will not be completely freaked out when every single character simultaneously breaks out into song and also happens to be a professionally trained dancer. If one were watching a movie classified as film noir and this occurred, the audience would have no idea what to make of it, and it would seem out of place. Because the audience would already be aware of the musical classification, the story being told in song will be normal and expected.

            In classifying genre, the media and the studios are outlining a narrative image, a description of what to expect. These expectations are as much attributed to plot as they are to moral messages influenced by the time in which the movie is set: Western films reflect patriotic, good-natured hope; film noir expresses the untrustworthiness and pessimism felt in the forties and fifties While in some ways, genres help the industry, attracting viewers who are drawn to different messages and experiences to specific pictures, there are many dangers to classifying movies in such cut-and-dry terms. By forcing every film into a specific genre, it leaves the chance of leaving viewers disappointed, even shocked, at the film’s end. For example, Georgia Rule (2007) was advertized as a comedy-drama, and often, simply a comedy. With a cast including Jane Fonda, Felicity Huffman and Lindsay Lohan, the film attracted a certain audience expecting to see a light, humorous movie. However, the majority of the film is very serious, dealing with issues such as child abuse and drugs, thus leaving the viewers confused about the original intent of seeing the movie. Is it a comedy? Is it a drama? Is it both? What implications do each of these brands have upon the type of audiences the films will pull? Many films, in fact, use this debate on genre ironically, ultimately laughing in the faces of the people who try and classify them.

            The film Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005) spans a wide spectrum of genres. It is a comedy, a film noir, a drama, a mystery, a black comedy, a satire, an almost anything. What do we do with this type of film? What was Shane Black trying to convey with the release of this parody? The plot, as well as the inspiration for the film, (a pulp novel by Brett Halliday called “Bodies Are Where You Find Them”), pull many thematic, dramatic and iconographic components from the film noir legacy. As discussed in Schrader and Neal’s articles, the disillusionment that followed the war was a prime inspiration for this dark, pessimistic genre.

Lighting, music and certain icons are the key to film noir, and Black plays upon each of these components in order to replicate a new spin on this genre. The contrast of black and white, as well as the use of shadows created suspicion and paranoia in the narrative space of a noir film. While Kiss Kiss is filmed in color, many scences implement the use of shadows and the images seem almost black in white. When Perry (Val Kilmer) and Harry (Robert Downey, Jr.) shoot the guard outside of the mental hospital, the scene is quite dark and almost appears as if it is filmed in black and white. Later, in the chase scene, the streets are smoggy and dark, resembling a film such as Out of The Past or any hard-boiled detective story.

In fact, much of the movie seems to reflect the pessimism of the film noir genre; from the impromptu detective striving to find justice, to the quick, witty, monotonous dialogues, right down to the romance between the unlikely detective and the femme fatale. However, the entire film is tainted by Harry’s comedic narration and the overly nostalgic jazz music that scream satire. Black uses icons of the noir era, (such as dramatically placed cigarettes), and flips them in such a way that you know that he is making fun of the genre, and maybe genres in general.  In addition, Black completely changes the pessimistic noir ending, replacing it with a happy, Hollywood ending; he allows the characters to find justice, creates a surviving love connection between Harry and Harmony (Michelle Monaghan), has an ironic death toll of sixteen (which perfectly coincides with the pulp novel plot line) and even brings Perry back to life (which he criticizes by having Harry snidely remark on the classic Hollywood happily ever after).

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is brings to light the dangers of shutting movies into corners; Black shows us a film that cannot possibly be characterized, and therefore escapes the scope of categorization. In the end, the film appeals to more audiences because it cannot be contained within just one genre, but instead a multitude of them.  As Neale points out, the only way to solve the problems of genre is to treat it as a process, viewing a genre not as a fixed entity, but instead a malleable subject that can, and is, constantly changed by outside influences such as media, social relations and history.

 

      In Chapter 5 as Film as Social Practice IV, Graeme Turner discusses the importance of film audiences and how they form perceptions of characters and narratives. The classic 199

0 film Pretty Woman (Garry Marshall) encompasses many of the themes that Turner, as well as film critic Laura Mulvey, speaks about in their prospective pieces.

      One of the first aspects of an audience’s connection to a film that Turner speaks about is the actual casting – who is in what role and what does their persona outside the film indicate about the character they are playing? Is the hero a tough, gun-holding type? Is he witty and erratic? Is the heroine a sex symbol, or seen as a type of girl-next-door by viewers? These are all questions that a casting agent has to think about. Turner points out: “If we cast Brad Pitt, we do not have to persuade the audience that the character is attractive to women; if we cast Woody Allen, we might have to demonstrate that.” Pretty Woman boasts a leading cast of Richard Gere as Edward Lewis, a wealthy workaholic and Julia Roberts as Vivian Ward, a quirky, beautiful prostitute. In the context of American cinema, we can almost presume before the first shot what will unfold; the public views Gere as a sophisticated, and, to some, sexy male figure while Roberts is beautiful, funny and America’s Sweetheart. Casting Roberts as a trashy prostitute only hastens the plot – as a spectator, we are simply “waiting for her inevitable emergence as an object of romantic desire.” (Turner). We know that, inevitably, Gere will fall head-over-heels in love with Roberts, just as viewers across America have through her previous films and off-camera charisma. Before we even set foot in the theatre, we are rooting for the seemingly unlikely love affair that will ultimately bloom between Edward and his escort, Vivian.

       That said, it is possible that my view of the situation is severely skewed since I was born a mere two months before the movie’s premiere. My evaluation of the stars, even taking into account the specific movies that had been released before this film (Mystic Pizza and Steel Magnolia’s for Roberts and An Officer and a Gentleman and American Gigolo for Gere). Turner also speaks about this phenomenon; since the persona of a star off-set influences the way a spectator views a character s/he is playing, it is also true that the future works and paparazzi-recorded events influence how the film is perceived. Turner, while talking about Jennifer Lopez’s role in Out of Sight (1998), says: “her characterization…was free of many of the contextual complications that would now be available to those who watch it on TV.” I cannot fully judge how audiences in 1990 who flocked to the theaters viewed the stars of the film. For example, Richard Gere, for me, does not represent a hunky actor in the same way that Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp would because of generational differences. However, 19 years ago, and deducing from what types of movies and roles he played before Pretty Woman, I can deduce that to many women, he would be the attractive, sexy actor in the film. Time, in particular the continuing careers and fan infatuation with stars’ personal lives, changes the perspective of audiences years after the initial release of a film.

Throughout the film, director Garry Marshall uses Julia Roberts’ body as the drawing factor in a frame. In fact, our very first shot of her is her behind while she is sleeping, and Marshall slowly and seductively reveals the rest of her body to the audience, drawing them in. In Laura Mulvey’s article, Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema, she explains that the female form is the dominant viewpoint that often drives a picture – films are made for the, as she calls it, the ‘male gaze.’ In her days as a prostitute on the street, Roberts is often shown in a long shot, showing her entire body, complete with scant clothes, to intrigue the audience. Furthermore, Mulvey says, the male lead in the picture, the one driving the sexual plot, represents the gaze of the audience: “As the spectator identifies with the main male protagonist, he projects his look on to that of his like, his screen surrogate, so that the power of the male protagonist as he controls events coincides with the active power of the erotic look, both giving a satisfying sense of omnipotence.” When Roberts and Gere first meet, we identify with his gaze, with his actions. As they begin to talk, we are in the car with Edward, looking at Vivian’s bare back through the window. The camera finds angles and zooms that expose the female form. Later in the movie, as we watch Roberts’ transformation from hooker to lady, the film exemplifies another of Mulvey’s points: “The determining male gaze projects its phantasy on to the female figure which is styled accordingly.” Vivian is literally transformed, and it is Edward who controls how she looks, what she wears, how she acts, etc. The classic scene in which Roberts emerges in a long red evening gown, we see Gere bestow a necklace upon her and literally circle her, taking in her form and beauty. In essence, this is the male fantasy: to create one’s own ideal woman. Marshall uses Roberts’ body as the display the female figure, drawing in the “male gaze” that assists in driving the plot.

            Pretty Woman uses casting and the female form to drive its plot and capture audiences. We, as an audience, assume the eventual transformation of Roberts from a prostitute to a lady of class in part because we see her as ‘America’s Sweetheart’ rather than a true sex symbol. While both the lead actor’s lives may have changed connotations in the past 19 years, their reputations still draw this type of reaction from an audience watching the film on DVD or TV. Furthermore, Marshall employs Mulvey’s ‘male gaze’ by using Roberts’ body as a drawing factor for the film. I believe Pretty Woman has remained a classic film in American culture because of its stars, their prevalence to popular culture and the desire the film provokes, whether consciously or subconsciously, from its audience.

 

 

Suspicion

In the film “Suspicion,” Alfred Hitchcock creates narrative meaning through shot combinations and expressive narrative space. “Suspicion” (1941) tells the story of a proper British woman, Lina, (Joan Fontaine) and a charming, smooth man named Johnnie (Cary Grant) who fall in love and get married. It isn’t until they return from the honeymoon, however, that Lina begins to uncover the deceitful, gambling character of her new husband, and slowly becomes more and more suspicious of him until she is convinced that he plans to kill her in order to collect insurance. Throughout the film, Hitchcock uses different techniques in order to force the viewer to feel the doubt that plagues Lina’s psyche. The setting of the movie, especially the indoor scenes, is filled with heavy shadows and darkness. In addition, the frequent switching of shots between Lina and Johnnie throughout the movie allows the audience to draw connections between the significance and moods of the characters. Hitchcock creates a symbolic narrative space that helps represent the tone of the film.

In “Narrative Space,” Stephen Heath speaks about the evolution of narrative space in cinema. Originally, the purpose of film, and therefore the narrative space, was to mirror reality: “the space of film is the space of reality; film’s ambition and triumph is to ‘reproduce life.’” However, as the industry progressed, movies tended to have more symbolism and opinions, and therefore the space in the film became an opportunity for movement and significance, rather than just a backdrop. Throughout “Suspicion” light and darkness play a key role in conveying the doubt and mistrust that increasingly obstructs Lina throughout the film. The very first scene of the movie, (on the train), begins in complete darkness that foreshadows the rest of the film. Later, after Lina learns about Johnnie’s lies and gambling, her world becomes more and more cluttered by doubt. Hitchcock shows her home, which should be a place of light and comfort, as a cold, open building filled with darkness and shadows. Finally, the most telling in regards to the narrative space, at the height of Lina’s suspicion, Hitchcock composes a shot of pitch black and aims the camera on the floor, allowing a narrow pool of light to spill in and showing only the threatening, ominous shadow of Johnnie, and proceeds to follow him in dark, demonic lighting walking up the stairs to give his wife a glass of milk. The narrative space becomes like a character in the film: evolving as the plot progresses and reflective of the tones Hitchcock wishes to portray. It is the well-calculated composition of this setting that draws the audience in, forcing them to feel the doubt that envelops Linda’s character.

Another way that Hitchcock brings to life the narrative meaning of “Suspicion” is through the constant shot-reverse-shot he uses to portray Lina and Johnnie’s relationship. In these short, clipped shots, it is not necessarily the dialogue (if there is any) that is important, but rather the out of frame gazes that tell the story. It is the audience’s interpretation, namely how they connect the shots, that also creates a feeling suspicion in the film.  When Lina and Johnnie are on better terms, especially at the beginning of the film, the shots often contain both characters, and the gazes are loving, usually at each other. However, once the doubt begins to settle, the shots become choppier and tighter on Lina and Johnnie’s faces. In the scene in which Johnnie returns from his trip and Lina is sure that he has murdered his childhood friend, the two characters sit next to each other, but the camera does not really show them as such. Instead, as the conversation progresses, the camera switches back and forth between their faces, Johnnie’s reflecting his supposed nervousness and Lina’s showing her horror, both of them looking into space rather than each other. As an audience, we know they are not looking at each other, and the the shallow composition and rapid movement between the two characters that expresses the tension in the scene. It is often the connection of the shots that gives the emotions of the film power and narrative meaning.

Without significant narrative space and careful cinematography, “Suspicion” would struggle to express the narrative meaning it is able to successfully reveal. The audience, while probably engrossed in the plot, would not feel the tension and anxiousness that Hitchcock brings to the scene through tight, reversing camera movements and carefully constructed narrative space. It is the audience’s interpretation of the vigilantly assembled visuals that creates the doubt and wariness that make “Suspicion” successful.