Sunday, November 15, 2009

Creating Meaning

V for Vendetta: Shot by Shot Analysis

The 2005 movie V for Vendetta, directed by James McTeigue, follows the story of a young woman, Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman), living in a near-futuristic England. Her mundane day to day life at a government-controlled news station is turned upside-down when she becomes unexpectedly entwined in a rouge “freedom fighter’s” (IMDB) conquest against England’s totalitarian government. The mysterious vigilante, known only as “V” (Hugo Weaving), wears a Guy Fawkes mask in celebration of the man who, in 1605, attempted to blow up British Parliament. Much like the man whose face he wears, V plans to blow up Parliament as an act of liberation for the people of his country.

One of the most compelling scenes in this film is a montage the accounts the findings and predictions of Inspector Eric Finch (Stephen Rea), the lead investigator tracking V. Below is the montage in its entirety (for a bit of fun as well as context).

The focus of this close analysis will be only on a short segment of this montage (as clearly, there is a lot to cover here). For a bit of background information, the narrator is Inspector Finch; Chancellor Sutler (John Hurt) is the totalitarian ruler of England, and the masked man is V. This montage comes at a part of the story in which all of V’s planning and efforts for his explosive coup d’état are coming together; Finch is beginning to see the enormity of V’s actions, and unstoppable inertia of chaos which he has created. In my close analysis of this scene, I will look at the fusion of diegetic and nondiegetic sounds, as well as cinematic techniques such as shot-reverse-shots, focus changes, and use of slow motion to reveal how V, as a singular, in-control driving force, is able to spread his well planned chaos. I will also explore how the extended metaphor between V’s dominoes and the riots shown within the clip is created, and why it is so effective for the movie’s discourse.

The scene of interest is made up of ten shots (labeled for convenience) and takes place in the full movie beginning at 1:42:57. Here is a quick description of each shot:


Shot 1: Inspector Finch talking to the right of the camera

Shot 2: Army men in full uniform with guns marching

Shot 3: Back to Finch

Shot 4: V’s glove with finger pulled back

Shot 5: Finch again

Shot 6: V releasing finger; dominoes falling, riot progressing

Shot 7: Final dominoes falling

Shot 8: Close up on V’s mask

Shot 9: V walking in slow motion

Shot 10: V picking up domino and examining it


A key aspect of this scene is its use of sound, which helps to create meaning between two seemingly unrelated events: riots and falling dominos. In film, there are two types of sound (at least, two types in which we are currently interested). They are diegetic sounds: sounds whose origin is clear and present on screen, and nondiegetic sounds: sounds whose origin is either not specified or not present on screen. Both types of sound can be used to characterize a person or object. Take for example shots 2, 4 and 6. In shot 2 we see Chancellor Sutler’s army men marching. The use of multiple camera angles focusing on the men’s succinct movements as well as their loaded guns creates a sense of power among the men. At the end of the shot, we see the men cock their guns and hear the accompanying diegetic sound. In parallel, we hear the long, over-exaggerated diegetic sound of V pulling back his gloved finger, which, when viewed in relation to Shot 2, sounds almost like the cocking of a weapon. These related sounds highlight the power of both of the shot’s subjects. In Shot 2, we never see the men fire, as if perhaps they do not hold the power to carry out destructive action without first being given orders. On the other hand, in Shot 6 we see V “pull the trigger” as it were, releasing his finger and setting the dominos in motion. The sound produced by the dominos as they collide with each other sound considerably like bullets being fired. In these three shots diegetic sounds help to create the sense that V has the power of an army, but the initiative to act on his own will.

As mentioned above, film usually contains both diegetic and nondiegetic sounds. Typically, there is a distinction drawn between the two types of sound; however, the distinction can be blurred to create meaning and significance between two events. In Shot 6 we can see a lot of interplay between diegetic and nondiegetic sounds. Starting at 0:16 the sound of falling dominos begins to elevate in volume until around 0:20, where the sound has become chaotic and overwhelming. It is at this point that the sound of a mob’s angry cries begins to fade in. There is a quick cut to a shot of a riot, whose sound matches the cries heard seconds earlier. Similar sound fades between shots occur throughout the entirety of Shot 6, including the presence of what sounds like the marching footsteps heard in Shot 2 as the dominos fall at around 0:24. The fusion of diegetic and nondiegetic sounds reaches a peak at around 0:29 where the sound of the dominos falling is almost completely drowned out by what could be interpreted as either machine gun shots or a helicopter’s propeller. This type of connection built between two cuts by use of continuous sound is referred to as a sound bridge. Sound bridges are typically used to create continuity between two related shots, such as in a shot-reverse-shot sequence, or between establishing shots and close-ups. In this film, however, the sound bridge is used to create continuity between cuts which are neither continuous in space nor necessarily in time. Instead, the sound bridge serves to create a symbolic connection in the audience’s mind between the cascade of dominos set off by V, and riots taking place on the streets.

In analyzing this scene, it is important to recognize who or what is the most significant subject. The main focus is not on Finch, who is narrating; rather it is on V, who sets the dominos in motion. The sound of the dominos links to the sound of the riots. The audience begins to associate the spreading cascade of dominos with the escalating violence as a result of their inability to distinguish diegetic from nondiegetic sounds. This is the effect that is created by the scene. What is more important, though, is the meaning that is created within the scene. V is the one who sets the dominos in motion; therefore, the audience concludes it is he who has set the chaos in motion, presenting him as a powerful entity.

From here on out I will focus more on the cinematographic aspects of the film and how they strengthen the connection between V and idea of power that he holds. Shots 1-4 consist of a sort of shot-reverse-shot sequence between the narrator and the events that he describes. In general, a shot-reverse-shot is used to create continuity between shots as well as define and build narrative space; it is, however, used in a slightly different way during this sequence. In Shot 1, Inspector Finch is established as the scene’s narrative voice. He explains that “Sutler will be forced to do the only thing that he knows how to do”, and accordingly, the next shot is of armed men marching. Shot 3 is again of Finch, speaking about V’s next actions, and in Shot 4 we see V’s glove as he prepares to strike the first domino. In this case, the less traditional shot-reverse-shot creates a connection between V and the army men, using Finch as a bridge between the two ideas. In addition, Finch’s juxtaposition between each shot confers a sort of temporal (though not concrete) continuity between the two events he is describing. This allows the audience to accept that the two seemingly unconnected events on screen are actually interrelated.

The cinematography of the domino scene is particularly crucial for both character development and helping to establish the metaphoric use of the dominos. At the beginning of Shot 6 we see the use of slow motion. The speed of V’s finger hitting the first few dominos is slowed considerably, allowing the audience to see each individual collision. The effect created is meant to parallel V’s actions: his first action seems almost insignificant, but as the dominos continue to spread and fall and the film returns to its normal speed, it seems like the dominos are falling at an incredible and unstoppable rate. Since the connection between the dominos and the riots has already been established (through sound and consistent cuts back and forth between the two), it becomes clear that the spreading fall of the obj, in actuality, symbolic of the unstoppable chaos set in motion by one single man, one small domino.

The rest of this scene helps to establish V’s character and strength. The domino scene ends with the collapse of the final pieces, leaving one standing alone (Shot 7). At the start of the shot, the camera is focused on the foreground, the last standing domino. This little piece of wood is the subject of the shot, and the result of all the events that have preceded it, framing it as an object of certain gravity. The focus then shifts to V in the background. The effect is that a bond is created between the two; as the domino was the product of so many events before it, and cause of so much to come, so is V. Setting V as the subject of focus further motivates the audience to view him as a character that stands alone, yet nonetheless has an incredible amount of power. There is a discontinuous cut between Shots 8 and 9. At the end of V’s close-up in Shot 8 he begins to stand up. After the cut leading to Shot 9, V is already walking, creating a slight gap in temporal continuity. V’s jumpy movements give him a sort of superhuman quality in that it makes it seem that he does not have to obey regular laws of movement. In addition, his walk to pick up the standing domino is filmed in slow motion, signifying that while he is in control of the events he has put into motion, he is also so organized and confident that he can proceed with his plan at his own pace.

In a short essay entitle Story/Discourse, Christian Metz explores different aspects of film’s discourse. Discourse, as he describes it, is “the act of telling, the material practice of making meaning”. Essentially, discourse is how a movie says what it says. Metz argues that the best form of discourse hides the film’s enunciator and forces the audience to discover meaning on its own. The scene discussed during this shot by shot analysis does just that. By disguising V’s power and forcing the audience to reveal it for themselves, the film is able to create a more meaningful viewing experience. The means to this end was the inclusion of the domino scene, which on the surface signifies very little. However, once analyzed carefully, it becomes clear that the use of sound and various cinematic techniques within the scene help to create a connection between the dominos, the riots, and V’s power as an initiator of the ensuing chaos.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Propaganda and the 2-Way Reflection


There were just so many things that bothered me above Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will (1935) that I can’t really decide where to begin. I’ll start by saying that Riefenstahl’s cinematic technique is nothing short of astounding. Her camera angles, subtle juxtapositions, lens choices, and editing decisions make the film aesthetically pleasing, and, for film buffs, interesting to watch (on a technical level). That being said, it was still full of nauseating Nazi propaganda, and my lord, one of the most horrendously dull films I’ve ever sat through. Really. I’ll be honest and say that I dozed off during an extended marching scene and was not overly surprised when I woke up fifteen minutes later only to find more angry Nazi’s marching as a deceivingly tall Hitler, with a bad comb-over and uncomfortably thin mustache, saluted his beloved S.S. men.

(Someone else engrossed in Triumph of the Will)

The only thing that really caught my interest about this film actually took place before it even began. This movie is widely considered one of the most influential pieces of propaganda ever created. (I’m assuming the German’s in the mid 1930’s felt a bit more excited by the film than I did.) During the opening commentary and discussion of this film screening, the question was posed: “can a movie really be that dangerous?” For some reason this really struck me. I mean, come on, film is film, it’s only a movie. We’re just watching a bunch of glorified pictures being spat back at us at 24 frames per second. And yet, it was films like these that allowed a minority group of Nazi’s to take popular control of an otherwise sane country. These films made people believe that not only was it acceptable to exterminate an entire race of people, but that such actions were justified. It blows my mind.

In his essay entitled Questions of Genre, Steve Neale talks about different genres and their associated verisimilitudes (essentially, conventions and situations that can seem plausible or truthful in certain genres and not in others). He says that films must typically abide by two forms of verisimilitude: generic verisimilitude and broader social or cultural verisimilitude.

(See verisimilitude in the wiki page: https://courses.duke.edu/webapps/lobj-wiki-bb_bb60/wiki/ENGLISH101A.01-F2009/course/Verisimilitude)

The relevant of the two right now is social/cultural verisimilitude, which is the level of truthfulness that is determined by social norms. What I took from this part of Neale’s article is that film is a reflection of society, and, for the most part, what we see on screen is a product of we do as a society. This is the case in quite a few films. Take V for Vendetta (2005, James McTeigue) for example: the character of Chancellor Adam Sutler (John Hurt) and the movie’s plot in general were a reflection of the uncertainly and consequences of 9/11 and the Patriot Act. (Many believe the Chancellor’s character was shaped to loosely resemble President Bush.) Even the protagonist, V (Hugo Weaving), was a representation of the American people’s desire to regain the power they felt they lost.

It was for this reason that I was so surprised by Triumph of the Will; it had a reflection that was the opposite of what I had previously seen. The movie screen now had its own set of standards and ideals and it was the people changed their beliefs to better match those on screen. The movie screen and the audience were no longer one-way reflections; rather they both molded and shaped the other. With this in mind, I want to return to my original question: can a film really be dangerous? If we reach a point as a society when what we see and hear becomes so prevalent that it drowns out what we think, then yes, a film can be dangerous. Triumph represented such a time and such a movie. But is film any different from books or the media? Can’t any other opinion repeated over and over seep into our minds to the point that we call them our own? Let me know what you think.