Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
SPLICE TODAY: Doomsday Was Yesterday
My latest for Splice Today is a look back at the 1979 Bible prophecy documentary The Late Great Planet Earth, based on Hal Lindsey's unlikely bestseller and hosted by a slumming Orson Welles. Nearly 40 years on, Lindsey's brand of Bible exegesis motivates the evangelical wing of the Republican Party, but his prophecies are all busts.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
SPLICE TODAY: Characters vs. Trademarks
Entertainment companies want to reach out to an increasingly diverse and historically underserved audience. But in the age of remakes, sequels, and tentpoles, that rarely results in new characters. Instead it manifests in the laziest and most unsatisfying way possible: diversifying existing trademarks. My latest at Splice Today.
Thursday, August 08, 2013
Culture Shock 08.08.13: TV and movies experience reversal of fortunes
Two new books, taken together, perfectly illustrate the divergent fortunes of television and the movies.
The first is "Difficult Men" by GQ correspondent Brett Martin. In this case, the (overly long) subtitle — "Behind the Scenes of a Creative Revolution: From 'The Sopranos' and 'The Wire' to 'Mad Men' and 'Breaking Bad' " — says it all. Television is no longer mostly just sitcoms and episodic police procedurals, although both are still around and doing fine. Now there are complex shows with ongoing stories that attract some of the best actors in the business, the sort of actors who used to do only movies and looked down on TV work.
Driven by writer-creators rather than by directors, television has become the go-to platform for long-form, narrative storytelling.
At the other, seedier end of the street is Lynda Obst's "Sleepless in Hollywood: Tales from the New Abnormal in the Movie Business." Obst is a producer who has a hard time producing movies nowadays, even though her credits include hits like "Adventures in Babysitting" and "Sleepless in Seattle."
The reason is Hollywood doesn't make the kind of modestly budgeted films she makes anymore, unless they're horror films or star-driven comedies. Everything is either low-budget indie films, on the one hand, or grotesquely budgeted effects-driven extravaganzas based on brands with built-in audience appeal. That's why everything Hollywood produces seems to be a remake, a sequel or based on a book, comic book or old TV show.
They're not all bad, but for every "Iron Man" there are a dozen "Man of Steels," crowding out other types of movies. Once, these big-budget would-be blockbusters were tentpoles around which studios built their release schedules. Now, Obst complains, just about every studio movie is a tentpole.
Even a big-name director like Steven Spielberg has to scrape together funding when he wants to make a non-tentpole like his Oscar-bait biopic "Lincoln."
That prompted Spielberg and George Lucas, jointly credited/blamed with creating the "summer blockbuster," to warn that Hollywood's big tent is on the verge of collapsing.
The common denominator behind both TV's and films' fortunes is DVD sales.
The rise of DVDs (and video on demand) in the past 15 or so years made movies more available, a development that was one thing driving pay-TV channels like HBO into original programming as a way to differentiate themselves. The subsequent decline in DVD sales, however, broke all of the Hollywood studios' financial models, leading to the tentpole-dominated model that prevails now.
The decline of DVDs is in part the work of Netflix, which is also credited with helping change TV for the better by encouraging "binge viewing" and producing its own shows like the Emmy-nominated "House of Cards," a fourth season of "Arrested Development" and the latest critical darling, "Orange is the New Black." It's not too much of an exaggeration to say Netflix changed everything.
So, is everything roses for TV and curtains for the movies? Not necessarily.
Television still falls prey to formula. For all the talk of a "creative revolution," how many of these daring new shows can be summed up as "family man (or woman) with a secret criminal life"?
And Hollywood has been here before, when big-budget disasters like 1963's "Cleopatra" nearly sank studios and cleared the way for a new generation of filmmakers who made smaller, more personal films. After a decade of bloated epics, we got the generation of Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese and, yes, George Lucas.
Lest we forget, the original "Star Wars" was also a modestly budgeted film, by today's standards.
The first is "Difficult Men" by GQ correspondent Brett Martin. In this case, the (overly long) subtitle — "Behind the Scenes of a Creative Revolution: From 'The Sopranos' and 'The Wire' to 'Mad Men' and 'Breaking Bad' " — says it all. Television is no longer mostly just sitcoms and episodic police procedurals, although both are still around and doing fine. Now there are complex shows with ongoing stories that attract some of the best actors in the business, the sort of actors who used to do only movies and looked down on TV work.
Driven by writer-creators rather than by directors, television has become the go-to platform for long-form, narrative storytelling.
At the other, seedier end of the street is Lynda Obst's "Sleepless in Hollywood: Tales from the New Abnormal in the Movie Business." Obst is a producer who has a hard time producing movies nowadays, even though her credits include hits like "Adventures in Babysitting" and "Sleepless in Seattle."
The reason is Hollywood doesn't make the kind of modestly budgeted films she makes anymore, unless they're horror films or star-driven comedies. Everything is either low-budget indie films, on the one hand, or grotesquely budgeted effects-driven extravaganzas based on brands with built-in audience appeal. That's why everything Hollywood produces seems to be a remake, a sequel or based on a book, comic book or old TV show.
They're not all bad, but for every "Iron Man" there are a dozen "Man of Steels," crowding out other types of movies. Once, these big-budget would-be blockbusters were tentpoles around which studios built their release schedules. Now, Obst complains, just about every studio movie is a tentpole.
Even a big-name director like Steven Spielberg has to scrape together funding when he wants to make a non-tentpole like his Oscar-bait biopic "Lincoln."
That prompted Spielberg and George Lucas, jointly credited/blamed with creating the "summer blockbuster," to warn that Hollywood's big tent is on the verge of collapsing.
The common denominator behind both TV's and films' fortunes is DVD sales.
The rise of DVDs (and video on demand) in the past 15 or so years made movies more available, a development that was one thing driving pay-TV channels like HBO into original programming as a way to differentiate themselves. The subsequent decline in DVD sales, however, broke all of the Hollywood studios' financial models, leading to the tentpole-dominated model that prevails now.
The decline of DVDs is in part the work of Netflix, which is also credited with helping change TV for the better by encouraging "binge viewing" and producing its own shows like the Emmy-nominated "House of Cards," a fourth season of "Arrested Development" and the latest critical darling, "Orange is the New Black." It's not too much of an exaggeration to say Netflix changed everything.
So, is everything roses for TV and curtains for the movies? Not necessarily.
Television still falls prey to formula. For all the talk of a "creative revolution," how many of these daring new shows can be summed up as "family man (or woman) with a secret criminal life"?
And Hollywood has been here before, when big-budget disasters like 1963's "Cleopatra" nearly sank studios and cleared the way for a new generation of filmmakers who made smaller, more personal films. After a decade of bloated epics, we got the generation of Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese and, yes, George Lucas.
Lest we forget, the original "Star Wars" was also a modestly budgeted film, by today's standards.
Thursday, June 07, 2012
Culture Shock 06.07.12: Movies more scared of sex than you think
Movies and television take a lot of heat for promoting supposedly immoral, promiscuous and irresponsible sexual behavior.
But when it comes to movies that actually make sex their main focus, you may be left wondering why anyone has sex in the first place. Sex in these movies is awful, joyless and nothing good ever comes of it.
On second thought, that does sound like a pretty irresponsible depiction of sex, just not the one we've been led to expect.
Two recent films are Exhibits A and B. The first is "Shame," newly released on Blu-ray and DVD.
Directed by Steve McQueen and starring Michael Fassbender, "Shame" follows Brandon, a 30-something business executive in New York, as he goes blankly from one sexual encounter to the next, until the arrival of his emotionally unstable sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) upsets his routine.
We're never clued in to what it is, but the two clearly are carrying around a lot of old family baggage. Sissy is needy, and Brandon resents her for it. Meanwhile, he's trying and failing to meet his own needs through meaningless sex — a strategy designed to fail because meaningless sex is, by definition, meaningless.
Brandon is the poster boy for sex addiction. He has lots of sex but never enjoys it, and he keeps right on going.
Yet, despite depressing movies like "Shame" and a few high-profile celebrity cases of suspect credibility, one fact remains: There is no such thing as sex addiction.
I know. This is not what the doctors on TV tell you, but stay with me.
Sex addiction is not recognized by the American Psychiatric Association, and there is no scientific evidence that it exists. So says David J. Ley, clinical psychologist and author of a book pointedly titled "The Myth of Sex Addiction."
Most people have sex because they like it. But while that might make for good late-night viewing on Cinemax, it doesn't carry the day with art-house filmgoers.
That brings me to Exhibit B, Steven Soderbergh's 2009 film "The Girlfriend Experience" (Blu-ray, DVD and Netflix instant) starring former adult-film actress Sasha Grey.
Grey plays a high-class call girl whose clients are mostly Wall Street 1-percenters during the darkest days of the Great Recession. A woman who sells sex and men who sell mortgage-backed securities — it's a juxtaposition perfect for Soderbergh's ideological ax-grinding.
She makes decisions based on astrology-like personality guidebooks, and they make trades based on voodoo economics. Or something like that.
Grey's character, Chelsea, is destined for disappointment because she is commodifying sex, but that's not the worst of it. What she offers her clients isn't just sex, but companionship — a "girlfriend experience."
It's that she does this for money that makes it doomed in Soderbergh's eye. It makes her like the buyers and sellers who ruined the economy then took off on a trip to Las Vegas to gamble literally, not just metaphorically.
Yes, when a well-heeled Hollywood director wants to criticize sex, of course he compares it to the business world.
Here even Cinemax shlock is judgmental. When the lonely housewife played by Shannon Tweed decides to become a call girl, you just know someone is going to get murdered.
If you pay for sex, you'll have to pay.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Culture Shock 12.01.11: Ken Russell was uncompromising in pursuit of excess
Challenged to make a movie so offensive even he would say it should be banned, British director Ken Russell came up with an eight-minute film called "A Kitten for Hitler."
The title is just the beginning. It's downhill from there. And did I mention it's a Christmas movie?
Best known for his adaptations of D.H. Lawrence novels and "Altered States," his psychedelic foray into science fiction, Russell died Sunday at age 84 after a series of strokes.
Many filmmakers are described as "uncompromising," but few have earned that descriptive so thoroughly as Russell, who was uncompromising in his pursuit of cinematic excess.
Baffled audiences? An occupational hazard. Outraged critics? Serves the bums right.
Often, to watch a Ken Russell film is to be assaulted by sight and sound. If film is a visual medium more than a narrative one, Russell carried that to its logical — or is it illogical? — conclusion. In his hands, even so straightforward a genre as the biopic becomes a mad experiment in imagery and symbolism. The facts of the matter, when they matter at all, are in service to what you see.
Russell described "The Music Lovers," his 1970 film about Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, as a movie about a homosexual who marries a nymphomaniac.
That's a cute way of putting it. It's also a story of repression, obsession and madness. One thing it's not is a literal biography of Tchaikovsky. But it shouldn't be taken literally in any case. It's a backdrop on which Russell can project the fantasies, fears, nightmares and delusions of his characters, all set to the compositions of the Russian composer at the center of the proceedings.
By the time the "1812 Overture" inevitably comes along, we're not surprised to see actual canons going off and beheading Tchaikovsky's tormentors.
Even when working with a more traditional narrative, as in "Altered States" or his adaptation of Bram Stoker's "Lair of the White Worm," Russell used dreams and hallucinations to stunning visual and thematic effect.
His frequent collaborator — you might even say "muse" — Glenda Jackson, who won an Oscar for her role in Russell's "Women in Love," called him an "incredible visual genius." But he also was a director who got brave performances from his actors, whether from Jackson, as Tchaikovsky's doomed wife in "The Music Lovers," or the temperamental Oliver Reed, who shared an infamous nude wrestling scene with Alan Bates in "Women in Love."
For all his visual flair, it might still be possible to dismiss Russell if all there were to his films was the extravagance. In some of his movies, such as 1972's "Savage Messiah," it seems the only direction he gave the cast might have been, "Act louder!"
Not all of his experiments are successful. "Gothic," his 1986 retelling of how Mary Shelley came up with "Frankenstein," is absurd fun, but I'm not at all convinced it's actually a good movie.
Russell also tested the boundaries of subjects such as sex and religion, both of which tend to get artists into trouble. "The Devils," Russell's 1971's film set in a nunnery, deals with both, and it has yet to get a proper U.S. release in its uncut form.
When he didn't break a boundary, he at least showed the rest of us where it is.
In his later years, Russell returned to making television documentaries, which is where he started, and the cinema lost one of its most daring, original voices.
Ultimately, I'm not sure the world really knew what hit it when Russell burst upon the scene in the late 1960s.
And I'm not sure it knows now, either.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Culture Shock 06.10.10: Floating heads have ruined movie posters
The next time you're in a movie theater, look at the posters hanging in the lobby. You'll notice they have one thing in common.
They're boring.
Once upon a time, movie posters were little works of art, prized by film buffs and collectors. Now, they're a testament to the evils of Photoshop.
According to my unscientific survey, half of all new movie posters simply depict the heads of actors Photoshopped in orbit around the movie's logo. These posters are creatively bankrupt and fail at what should be their one and only job: generating excitement for a movie.
A recent offender is a poster for "Iron Man 2" that shows the cast's publicity photos floating above an explosion. It's every movie poster sin collected in one place, as if to serve as a case study of what not to do.
Obviously, the studio wasn't counting on that poster to sell tickets, since "Iron Man 2" already had a built-in audience. But that excuse doesn't keep a boring, unimaginative poster from being a boring, unimaginative poster.
Horror posters are even worse. Every installment of the "Saw" franchise comes with a now obligatory poster depicting an amputated body part. That gimmick wasn't particularly clever the first time, never mind the fifth. The only suspense is, what body part will it be next time? So far, we've had a foot, a couple of fingers, a head and some teeth.
Before Photoshop made things too easy for lazy movie marketers, movie posters had style. Often they were the work of talented artists and painters. Most famously, Clint Eastwood recruited Frank Frazetta to paint the poster for "The Gauntlet," Eastwood's 1977 police thriller. In good condition, original prints of Frazetta's poster now go for hundreds of dollars on eBay.
The iconic 1977 "Star Wars" poster, featuring Luke with his lightsaber raised above his head and Princess Leia showing more leg than she actually would until "Return of the Jedi," is another classic example of a movie poster that draws you in. They don't make them like that anymore.
Old-school posters did have their clichés, but at least they were memorable clichés. The beautiful woman in the arms of a monster, alien or robot was a favorite. It popped up everywhere from "Creature from the Black Lagoon" to "Forbidden Planet."
And to be fair, floating heads predate the Photoshop age. But when one of your floating heads is Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's monster, you've already succeeded in generating audience interest.
The best old-style posters were often for low-budget movies destined for rural drive-ins and urban grindhouses. The artwork was usually lurid and accompanied by over-the-top proclamations like, "What he does to your nerves is almost as frightening as what he does to his victims!" from "The Toolbox Murders."
But an effective poster could also be simple, such as the giant shark coming up from beneath the swimmer on the "Jaws" poster. If someone were to make a poster for "Jaws" today, it would probably show the heads of Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss floating above an exploding boat, with a shark hidden somewhere in the background.
Maybe movie studios think they don't need movie posters to promote movies anymore because they have the Internet. But if "Snakes on a Plane" proved anything, it's that Internet hype doesn't always translate into box-office success.
And "Snakes on a Plane" had a lousy poster.
They're boring.
Once upon a time, movie posters were little works of art, prized by film buffs and collectors. Now, they're a testament to the evils of Photoshop.
According to my unscientific survey, half of all new movie posters simply depict the heads of actors Photoshopped in orbit around the movie's logo. These posters are creatively bankrupt and fail at what should be their one and only job: generating excitement for a movie.
A recent offender is a poster for "Iron Man 2" that shows the cast's publicity photos floating above an explosion. It's every movie poster sin collected in one place, as if to serve as a case study of what not to do.
Obviously, the studio wasn't counting on that poster to sell tickets, since "Iron Man 2" already had a built-in audience. But that excuse doesn't keep a boring, unimaginative poster from being a boring, unimaginative poster.
Horror posters are even worse. Every installment of the "Saw" franchise comes with a now obligatory poster depicting an amputated body part. That gimmick wasn't particularly clever the first time, never mind the fifth. The only suspense is, what body part will it be next time? So far, we've had a foot, a couple of fingers, a head and some teeth.
Before Photoshop made things too easy for lazy movie marketers, movie posters had style. Often they were the work of talented artists and painters. Most famously, Clint Eastwood recruited Frank Frazetta to paint the poster for "The Gauntlet," Eastwood's 1977 police thriller. In good condition, original prints of Frazetta's poster now go for hundreds of dollars on eBay.
The iconic 1977 "Star Wars" poster, featuring Luke with his lightsaber raised above his head and Princess Leia showing more leg than she actually would until "Return of the Jedi," is another classic example of a movie poster that draws you in. They don't make them like that anymore.
Old-school posters did have their clichés, but at least they were memorable clichés. The beautiful woman in the arms of a monster, alien or robot was a favorite. It popped up everywhere from "Creature from the Black Lagoon" to "Forbidden Planet."
And to be fair, floating heads predate the Photoshop age. But when one of your floating heads is Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's monster, you've already succeeded in generating audience interest.
The best old-style posters were often for low-budget movies destined for rural drive-ins and urban grindhouses. The artwork was usually lurid and accompanied by over-the-top proclamations like, "What he does to your nerves is almost as frightening as what he does to his victims!" from "The Toolbox Murders."
But an effective poster could also be simple, such as the giant shark coming up from beneath the swimmer on the "Jaws" poster. If someone were to make a poster for "Jaws" today, it would probably show the heads of Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss floating above an exploding boat, with a shark hidden somewhere in the background.
Maybe movie studios think they don't need movie posters to promote movies anymore because they have the Internet. But if "Snakes on a Plane" proved anything, it's that Internet hype doesn't always translate into box-office success.
And "Snakes on a Plane" had a lousy poster.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Culture Shock 03.11.10: Scientists ask for better science at the movies
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| Science! |
To change that, the National Academy of Sciences founded the Science and Entertainment Exchange, which aims to improve the portrayal of science in movies and on television.
But while some members of Hollywood's creative community have proved receptive, it looks like the scientists still have a lot of work to do.
Exhibit A: "2012," directed by serial offender Roland Emmerich, whose credits also include "The Day After Tomorrow," "10,000 B.C.," "Godzilla" and "Independence Day." He also helmed the Mel Gibson vehicle "The Patriot," so history isn't his strong suit, either.
The bad news is bad science doesn't stand in the way of box-office success. "Armageddon" grossed more than half a billion dollars worldwide despite relying on some of the worst science ever committed to film. From a scientific standpoint, "Armageddon" is like spending $140 million to remake "Plan 9 from Outer Space."
The good news, however, is bad science doesn't always sell.
Exhibit B: "The Core," a box-office disaster so egregious in its scientific illiteracy it makes "Armageddon" look like it was written by Stephen Hawking.
Meanwhile, good science — or at least passable science — can make money. "District 9" made more than $200 million worldwide on a budget of $30 million.
But while there is nothing preventing filmmakers from being more scientifically literate, there is no guaranteed payoff for scientific accuracy, either.
Scientists can complain about scientific inaccuracies in movies, but audiences don't seem to care. And the reason audiences don't care is because they don't know much about science.
A Harris Interactive poll last year found that only 53 percent of adults in the U.S. know how long it takes for the Earth to orbit the sun. And only 59 percent know that humans and dinosaurs did not live at the same time. A Gallup Poll last year found that only 39 percent of Americans believe in evolution.
Given statistics like that, it's no wonder hardly anyone complains about the aliens in "Avatar," no matter how unlikely it is that a species would evolve hair that plugs into trees and animals, just like a USB cable plugs into a computer.
By Hollywood standards, "Avatar" director James Cameron is usually careful with his science, but even he won't let science stand in the way of a metaphor. He has 2.6 billion reasons — and counting — not to care too much about the plausibility of USB hair. Besides, most scientists are giving the Na'vi a pass because they are Cameron's only real stretch of the imagination in "Avatar." Well, besides "unobtanium," that is.
Emory University physicist Sidney Perkowitz, for example, has suggested a rule allowing every film just one major suspension of disbelief. Unfortunately, while the success of "Avatar" has every movie studio rushing to make 3-D movies, they don't seem as eager to follow Cameron's lead in getting the science right.
Scientific illiteracy isn't confined to the United States. Michigan State researcher Jon Miller found that while only 28 percent of Americans qualify as scientifically literate, that's still slightly better than in Europe and Japan.
So, while I wish the National Academy of Sciences well, I doubt it will make much headway in Hollywood until audiences, not just here but worldwide, demand more realistic science from their entertainment.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Culture Shock 04.23.09: There's no scream like a Wilhelm scream
What would the movies be without screams?
The thought of it is almost too terrible to entertain. It's like imagining Sonny without Cher, Oats without Hall or Garfunkel without Simon. And we don't have to imagine any of those. We know exactly how bad they are.
Often, screams make the movie, especially horror movies, where bloodcurdling screams of sheer, abject terror are a necessity. A subset of Hollywood actresses is even known for their ability to scream on screen. "Scream queens," they're called.
But one scream has taken on a life of its own. You've heard it. In fact, you've heard it probably dozens of times, even if you've never heard of it.
Among Hollywood sound editors, the scream is legendary. It even has a name. It's the Wilhelm scream.
The Wilhelm scream was originally recorded for "Distant Drums," a 1951 Warner Bros. film starring Gary Cooper. It makes its debut when a character is eaten by an alligator.
The scream is, needless to say, distinctive. Unfortunately it's impossible to get across in print. But I'll try. It goes something like "aaaaAAAAuuuuhhhh!"
If, however, you prefer a more lifelike — or, in this case, death-like — example, an audio file of the scream is available on the Wilhelm scream's Wikipedia page.
The scream didn't get its name until its second appearance, in the 1953 Western "The Charge at Feather River." In that film, an arrow strikes a minor character, named Wilhelm, in the leg. Wilhelm, of course, screams, as people with arrows in their legs tend to do. The rest, as they say, is history.
Today, the Wilhelm scream is more famous than either of the first two movies in which it appeared. A band is named after it, YouTube videos celebrate it and nearly 150 movies feature it in one way or another. And the list is growing.
I was reminded of the Wilhelm scream last weekend, as I was indulging in a marathon viewing session of the British sci-fi series "Primeval," which is currently airing on the Sci-Fi Channel. Wilhelm gives a big shout-out once every episode. If you're playing a "Primeval" drinking game, taking a shot whenever you hear the Wilhelm scream is a must — along with taking a shot whenever a character goes in search of a dangerous prehistoric predator without taking along a firearm. But that is another column.
The Web site Hollywood Lost and Found has done an excellent job of uncovering the Wilhelm scream's history, along with cataloging the films in which the scream appears. Over the years, the Wilhelm scream has become something of an inside joke among sound editors, who insert the scream, where appropriate, as a way of saying "hi!" to their peers.
At first, the scream appeared only in Warner Bros. films, but by the 1970s it was seemingly everywhere. It's used in the "Star Wars" films and the "Indiana Jones" movies. You say you have a Nazi falling out of a truck and onto the hood of a jeep? That sounds like a job for the Wilhelm scream. A stormtrooper falling down a Death Star shaft or an alien falling into the Sarlacc pit? That calls for a Wilhelm scream.
In space, no one can hear you scream. Unless it's a Wilhelm scream.
Cropping up mostly when movie characters fall from great heights or die in explosions, the Wilhelm scream, unlike those characters, refuses to stay down. And sometimes it even shows up in a situation like the one for which it was originally intended. In "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom," the third and final time the Wilhelm scream appears is when the villain is eaten by alligators.
The scream has been a part of films as diverse as "Kill Bill, Vol. 1" (in which it appears at least twice during the same fight scene) and "Toy Story" (Buzz Lightyear knocked through a window).
But what of the man who recorded the scream in the first place? No one knows for sure, but the best evidence suggests the real-life "Wilhelm" was Sheb Wooley, who is best known for the song "The Purple People Eater."
I bet if someone were eaten by a Purple People Eater, the last thing out of that person's mouth would probably sound like a Wilhelm scream.
The thought of it is almost too terrible to entertain. It's like imagining Sonny without Cher, Oats without Hall or Garfunkel without Simon. And we don't have to imagine any of those. We know exactly how bad they are.
Often, screams make the movie, especially horror movies, where bloodcurdling screams of sheer, abject terror are a necessity. A subset of Hollywood actresses is even known for their ability to scream on screen. "Scream queens," they're called.
But one scream has taken on a life of its own. You've heard it. In fact, you've heard it probably dozens of times, even if you've never heard of it.
Among Hollywood sound editors, the scream is legendary. It even has a name. It's the Wilhelm scream.
The Wilhelm scream was originally recorded for "Distant Drums," a 1951 Warner Bros. film starring Gary Cooper. It makes its debut when a character is eaten by an alligator.
The scream is, needless to say, distinctive. Unfortunately it's impossible to get across in print. But I'll try. It goes something like "aaaaAAAAuuuuhhhh!"
If, however, you prefer a more lifelike — or, in this case, death-like — example, an audio file of the scream is available on the Wilhelm scream's Wikipedia page.
The scream didn't get its name until its second appearance, in the 1953 Western "The Charge at Feather River." In that film, an arrow strikes a minor character, named Wilhelm, in the leg. Wilhelm, of course, screams, as people with arrows in their legs tend to do. The rest, as they say, is history.
Today, the Wilhelm scream is more famous than either of the first two movies in which it appeared. A band is named after it, YouTube videos celebrate it and nearly 150 movies feature it in one way or another. And the list is growing.
I was reminded of the Wilhelm scream last weekend, as I was indulging in a marathon viewing session of the British sci-fi series "Primeval," which is currently airing on the Sci-Fi Channel. Wilhelm gives a big shout-out once every episode. If you're playing a "Primeval" drinking game, taking a shot whenever you hear the Wilhelm scream is a must — along with taking a shot whenever a character goes in search of a dangerous prehistoric predator without taking along a firearm. But that is another column.
The Web site Hollywood Lost and Found has done an excellent job of uncovering the Wilhelm scream's history, along with cataloging the films in which the scream appears. Over the years, the Wilhelm scream has become something of an inside joke among sound editors, who insert the scream, where appropriate, as a way of saying "hi!" to their peers.
At first, the scream appeared only in Warner Bros. films, but by the 1970s it was seemingly everywhere. It's used in the "Star Wars" films and the "Indiana Jones" movies. You say you have a Nazi falling out of a truck and onto the hood of a jeep? That sounds like a job for the Wilhelm scream. A stormtrooper falling down a Death Star shaft or an alien falling into the Sarlacc pit? That calls for a Wilhelm scream.
In space, no one can hear you scream. Unless it's a Wilhelm scream.
Cropping up mostly when movie characters fall from great heights or die in explosions, the Wilhelm scream, unlike those characters, refuses to stay down. And sometimes it even shows up in a situation like the one for which it was originally intended. In "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom," the third and final time the Wilhelm scream appears is when the villain is eaten by alligators.
The scream has been a part of films as diverse as "Kill Bill, Vol. 1" (in which it appears at least twice during the same fight scene) and "Toy Story" (Buzz Lightyear knocked through a window).
But what of the man who recorded the scream in the first place? No one knows for sure, but the best evidence suggests the real-life "Wilhelm" was Sheb Wooley, who is best known for the song "The Purple People Eater."
I bet if someone were eaten by a Purple People Eater, the last thing out of that person's mouth would probably sound like a Wilhelm scream.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Culture Shock 04.09.09: Movie incentives offer opportunities for state — and me
"Space Camp" and "The Long Walk Home" were shot in Alabama. Some of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" was filmed here, too, although not the famous Devil's Tower sequence, obviously.
But apart from "Big Fish" in 2003, it has been a while since a major Hollywood production set up shop in Alabama. The 1999 film "Crazy in Alabama," for example, stars Speake, Ala., native Lucas Black and is set in Alabama. But it was filmed in Louisiana.
That sort of thing sticks in the craw of Alabama's state legislators. Not only is it an affront to the state's honor — if you care about such things — it means millions of dollars are going to states like Louisiana that are standing in for the real Heart of Dixie. And who in Alabama doesn't care about that?
So, this year the Alabama Legislature finally passed an incentive package — basically a lot of tax breaks — designed to lure Hollywood producers to the state. But first, the proposal's backers had to win over the state's most powerful lobby, the Alabama Education Association.
AEA had opposed previous tax breaks for the movie industry, claiming they would cost the state's education budget much-needed funding.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but if Alabama was doing virtually no movie business before the tax breaks, and thus making almost no money off movie productions, how exactly were the tax breaks going to cost anything? Any percentage of zero is still zero. So, either someone in the AEA is pretty bad at math, which is a sobering thought, or AEA was just looking for a payoff.
It's almost like a Hollywood script. "The Godfather," maybe. After all, AEA Executive Secretary Paul Hubbert is a bit like the Don Corleone of Alabama politics. He makes politicians offers they can't refuse.
Well, this year AEA got its payoff, in the form of a law making it easier to tax out-of-state corporations that do business in Alabama, and dropped its opposition to the movie incentives bill, which, with the governor's signature, is now law.
Now, Alabama can not only play itself in the movies, it can stand in for other places as well. In theory, it could become the South's answer to Vancouver, British Columbia, which doubles for just about everywhere. Ever see Jackie Chan's "Rumble in the Bronx"? It is set in New York City, which makes the occasional appearance of the Rocky Mountains in the background of some scenes unintentionally hilarious.
But Hollywood's deep pockets weren't the only things on legislators' minds when they passed the incentives bill. Lawmakers were thinking about jobs, too.
Athens State University and Calhoun Community College are moving forward with a program to train students for jobs in the movie and television business. Soon, downtown Decatur, Ala., could be home to classes that prepare young Alabamians to be gaffers, best boys and other movie professionals with strange job titles. Someone around here could be the next Steven Spielberg, or at least the next Roger Corman.
This is a great opportunity. If there had been a film school around here when I graduated from high school, do you think I would have gotten degrees in economics and political science? Not a chance.
But it is still good news for me because I'll need trained professionals to work on my film, "Kung Fu Biker Zombies vs. the Vampire Strippers from Hell in 3-D." Granted, I don't have a script yet, just a plot synopsis scribbled on a cocktail napkin one late night at The Brick Deli & Tavern. But I feel good about this project. And with the tax breaks Alabama is offering, I might be able to bring it in under the $30 million budget I have in mind.
Sure, my original plan was for the movie to be set in Nevada, but it's not too late to make revisions for the sake of my native state.
But apart from "Big Fish" in 2003, it has been a while since a major Hollywood production set up shop in Alabama. The 1999 film "Crazy in Alabama," for example, stars Speake, Ala., native Lucas Black and is set in Alabama. But it was filmed in Louisiana.
That sort of thing sticks in the craw of Alabama's state legislators. Not only is it an affront to the state's honor — if you care about such things — it means millions of dollars are going to states like Louisiana that are standing in for the real Heart of Dixie. And who in Alabama doesn't care about that?
So, this year the Alabama Legislature finally passed an incentive package — basically a lot of tax breaks — designed to lure Hollywood producers to the state. But first, the proposal's backers had to win over the state's most powerful lobby, the Alabama Education Association.
AEA had opposed previous tax breaks for the movie industry, claiming they would cost the state's education budget much-needed funding.
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but if Alabama was doing virtually no movie business before the tax breaks, and thus making almost no money off movie productions, how exactly were the tax breaks going to cost anything? Any percentage of zero is still zero. So, either someone in the AEA is pretty bad at math, which is a sobering thought, or AEA was just looking for a payoff.
It's almost like a Hollywood script. "The Godfather," maybe. After all, AEA Executive Secretary Paul Hubbert is a bit like the Don Corleone of Alabama politics. He makes politicians offers they can't refuse.
Well, this year AEA got its payoff, in the form of a law making it easier to tax out-of-state corporations that do business in Alabama, and dropped its opposition to the movie incentives bill, which, with the governor's signature, is now law.
Now, Alabama can not only play itself in the movies, it can stand in for other places as well. In theory, it could become the South's answer to Vancouver, British Columbia, which doubles for just about everywhere. Ever see Jackie Chan's "Rumble in the Bronx"? It is set in New York City, which makes the occasional appearance of the Rocky Mountains in the background of some scenes unintentionally hilarious.
But Hollywood's deep pockets weren't the only things on legislators' minds when they passed the incentives bill. Lawmakers were thinking about jobs, too.
Athens State University and Calhoun Community College are moving forward with a program to train students for jobs in the movie and television business. Soon, downtown Decatur, Ala., could be home to classes that prepare young Alabamians to be gaffers, best boys and other movie professionals with strange job titles. Someone around here could be the next Steven Spielberg, or at least the next Roger Corman.
This is a great opportunity. If there had been a film school around here when I graduated from high school, do you think I would have gotten degrees in economics and political science? Not a chance.
But it is still good news for me because I'll need trained professionals to work on my film, "Kung Fu Biker Zombies vs. the Vampire Strippers from Hell in 3-D." Granted, I don't have a script yet, just a plot synopsis scribbled on a cocktail napkin one late night at The Brick Deli & Tavern. But I feel good about this project. And with the tax breaks Alabama is offering, I might be able to bring it in under the $30 million budget I have in mind.
Sure, my original plan was for the movie to be set in Nevada, but it's not too late to make revisions for the sake of my native state.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
‘Brokeback’ director’s latest film gets NC-17
For a columnist looking for an ax to grind, the Motion Picture Association of America is the gift that keeps on giving.
This time, the MPAA’s ratings board has slapped Oscar-winning director Ang Lee’s latest film with the dreaded NC-17. That will keep out anyone under the age of 17, even with a parent or guardian in tow, and limit the movie’s promotion and distribution.
The film, titled “Lust, Caution,” is Lee’s follow-up to “Brokeback Mountain,” for which he received the 2006 Academy Award for Best Director.
Set during World War II in Japanese-occupied Shanghai, China, “Lust, Caution” is the story of a young Chinese woman, played by newcomer Wei Tang, who seduces an enemy collaborator (Tony Leung of “Hero” and “In the Mood for Love”).
According to a story last week in The Hollywood Reporter, “A source said too many of the film’s sex scenes violated the ratings board’s unwritten rules (like the number of allowable pelvic thrusts, for example),” making an appeal of the NC-17 rating impossible.
Lee’s studio is standing behind him, insisting that “Lust, Caution” will be released as is, with no cuts. But Lee is one of the lucky few in Hollywood with enough clout to get an NC-17-rated film released.
In a town where you’re only as good as your last film, Lee is fortunate this controversy erupted after “Brokeback Mountain” instead of “Hulk.” (I am one of the few critics who will defend Lee’s superheroic bomb.)
Lee’s recently bestowed Oscar helps. So does the fact that the head of Focus Features, which is releasing “Lust, Caution,” is Lee’s longtime collaborator and co-producer James Schamus.
Schamus co-wrote “Lust, Caution,” as well as several of Lee’s previous films, including “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” “Hulk” and “The Ice Storm.”
Focus Features cannot release “Lust, Caution” without a rating because Focus is a subsidiary of Universal Pictures, which is an MPAA member studio. To Universal’s credit, it isn’t putting up a fight against Schamus’ decision to press on, even with the NC-17. I doubt anyone at Universal is eager to upset one of the studio’s most honored filmmakers.
The 2006 documentary “This Film Is Not Yet Rated” makes a big deal about the MPAA’s double standard when it comes to rating independent films versus studio films, with studio films often getting more leeway. It pays to actually be a member of the club.
But as the case of “Lust, Caution” illustrates, even major studios and their subsidiaries can fall prey to the MPAA’s secretive, idiosyncratic and often maddening ratings process.
Graphic violence might earn a film an R rating. But if a movie shows people enjoying sex too much, it runs the risk of getting lumped in with pornography.
The MPAA introduced the NC-17 rating in 1990 as a replacement for the X rating, but the stigma associated with the old X label remained. As far as many theater owners were concerned, “Henry & June” might as well be “Behind the Green Door.”
The only NC-17 film that so far has received a wide theatrical release is “Showgirls,” but as one of Hollywood’s most notorious bombs, it didn’t do much for the rating’s legitimacy.
The handful of NC-17 films that open in theaters must settle with limited release, even if they star name actors like Ewan McGregor of 2003’s “Young Adam.”
If anything good comes of this latest controversy, it’ll be that a director of Ang Lee’s status will finally do something to remove some of the stigma that clings to the NC-17 rating.
With most real pornography now on home video and the Internet, there is no reason why legitimate films that happen to run afoul of the MPAA’s ratings system should have to suffer.
This time, the MPAA’s ratings board has slapped Oscar-winning director Ang Lee’s latest film with the dreaded NC-17. That will keep out anyone under the age of 17, even with a parent or guardian in tow, and limit the movie’s promotion and distribution.
The film, titled “Lust, Caution,” is Lee’s follow-up to “Brokeback Mountain,” for which he received the 2006 Academy Award for Best Director.
Set during World War II in Japanese-occupied Shanghai, China, “Lust, Caution” is the story of a young Chinese woman, played by newcomer Wei Tang, who seduces an enemy collaborator (Tony Leung of “Hero” and “In the Mood for Love”).
According to a story last week in The Hollywood Reporter, “A source said too many of the film’s sex scenes violated the ratings board’s unwritten rules (like the number of allowable pelvic thrusts, for example),” making an appeal of the NC-17 rating impossible.
Lee’s studio is standing behind him, insisting that “Lust, Caution” will be released as is, with no cuts. But Lee is one of the lucky few in Hollywood with enough clout to get an NC-17-rated film released.
In a town where you’re only as good as your last film, Lee is fortunate this controversy erupted after “Brokeback Mountain” instead of “Hulk.” (I am one of the few critics who will defend Lee’s superheroic bomb.)
Lee’s recently bestowed Oscar helps. So does the fact that the head of Focus Features, which is releasing “Lust, Caution,” is Lee’s longtime collaborator and co-producer James Schamus.
Schamus co-wrote “Lust, Caution,” as well as several of Lee’s previous films, including “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” “Hulk” and “The Ice Storm.”
Focus Features cannot release “Lust, Caution” without a rating because Focus is a subsidiary of Universal Pictures, which is an MPAA member studio. To Universal’s credit, it isn’t putting up a fight against Schamus’ decision to press on, even with the NC-17. I doubt anyone at Universal is eager to upset one of the studio’s most honored filmmakers.
The 2006 documentary “This Film Is Not Yet Rated” makes a big deal about the MPAA’s double standard when it comes to rating independent films versus studio films, with studio films often getting more leeway. It pays to actually be a member of the club.
But as the case of “Lust, Caution” illustrates, even major studios and their subsidiaries can fall prey to the MPAA’s secretive, idiosyncratic and often maddening ratings process.
Graphic violence might earn a film an R rating. But if a movie shows people enjoying sex too much, it runs the risk of getting lumped in with pornography.
The MPAA introduced the NC-17 rating in 1990 as a replacement for the X rating, but the stigma associated with the old X label remained. As far as many theater owners were concerned, “Henry & June” might as well be “Behind the Green Door.”
The only NC-17 film that so far has received a wide theatrical release is “Showgirls,” but as one of Hollywood’s most notorious bombs, it didn’t do much for the rating’s legitimacy.
The handful of NC-17 films that open in theaters must settle with limited release, even if they star name actors like Ewan McGregor of 2003’s “Young Adam.”
If anything good comes of this latest controversy, it’ll be that a director of Ang Lee’s status will finally do something to remove some of the stigma that clings to the NC-17 rating.
With most real pornography now on home video and the Internet, there is no reason why legitimate films that happen to run afoul of the MPAA’s ratings system should have to suffer.
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