KINOGRAPHIAS

By 1967, the James Bond films had stamped a distinct cinematic experience, with a structural formula for the agent’s missions, the recurrence of characters and their portrayers, and visual and musical motifs, among other elements. Encompassing these bonding elements and the franchise they were representing had been Sean Connery’s embodiment of the titular spy. Yet, when James Bond came back to theaters in Peter R. Hunt’s directorial effort, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), a new face was incarnating the character: George Lazenby. The new actor’s entry succeeded five films with Connery as Bond, and in retrospect, ended up sandwiched in its predecessors’ tenure, with the original actor returning to the role for the film that followed.  Recasting was not entirely uncommon during the earlier Bond films: Desmond Lewellyn’s Q turned out to be armorer Boothroyd from Terence Young’s Dr. No (1962), and by 1965, Felix Leiter, portrayed by Jack Lord, Cec Linder and Rik Van Nutter, beca...

“Shaken, not stirred”. The phrase could describe the fine line the creative talent behind the James Bond movies it comes from have attempted to walk during the franchise’s tenure. For all this time, artists in front and behind the camera have come, stayed and gone, imprinting their sensibilities yet working to maintain the personality of the series – the pact between filmmakers and spectators for the former to produce more stories and for the latter to attend them on the big (and small, post-theatrical) screen. With a growing history and awareness of it, each film faces the following challenges: how to manage the evolving conditions these are made in, avoid wearing repetition and not stray too far from what interested parties have come to look forward to in order to keep them engaged. The overall outcome for this is that James Bond has continued to bring about films through stories that test, but not batter down, the established formula. Ever since its inception with Terence Young’s Fr...

In June, 1981, audiences facing the big screen were introduced to the first film featuring the character of Indiana Jones. The brainchild of a team led by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, Raiders of the Lost Ark presented a storytelling ride that reinvigorated the moviegoing experience. On one hand, it displayed the virtuosity of classical motion picture epics, while adding on the other a freshness in its incorporation of narrative, dramatic and filmic elements. With a story, character and spectacle that became a staple for modern filmmaking, it remains, 40 years later, an unmissable cinematic achievement for audiences of all ages. The plot, set in 1936, follows the story of Indiana Jones, renowned archaeologist, as he is summoned by the United States government to find the mythical Ark of the Covenant. He must do so before the Nazis locate its hidden resting place in Egypt, as the artifact, believed to irradiate supernatural power, is feared to be destructive in the wrong hands. In ...

Let us set ourselves in November, 2019 for a moment. From the heights, we see a night like any other: the view of a dense city, with an infinity of yellow lights and thickly contaminated air. High and robust buildings rise over others with wide vistas. With factories, vehicles and citizens full swing during late hours, this promises to be the dawn of an era and, likewise, the twilight of another. Such terms apply to the vivid images we keep record of from not very few cities at the end of the 21st century’s second decade. Whoever has seen Ridley Scott’s film Blade Runner (1982), may be able to recognize in the former description the city of Los Angeles, in a look conjured, not to the past but facing the future, 37 years ago. In it, detective Rick Deckard is assigned to hunt androids who have rebelled against humanity, and ends up falling in love with one of them. While this plot remains in the past, the vision of the future - fear of a present time - has already arrived and stayed, it...

Christopher Nolan’s “Interstellar” boldly takes a team of astronauts into another galaxy, holding onto the idea that love for their dear ones is what motivates and draws them (moves them) to fulfill their finding of a new home for humanity. The editing, by Lee Smith and accompanied by Hans Zimmer’s frenetic piano score, aids this portrayal. After the team is deceived by Dr. Mann, an astronaut who had been living on an ice planet for years and sent them a signal (to be rescued rather than to confirm his planet as habitable), he damages mission pilot Cooper’s spacesuit in an attempt to take control of the ship. As Cooper lays in the middle of the frozen land and calls for help, the action is briefly intercut with a flashback to his final conversation with his daughter Murphy. We begin with an over-the-shoulder shot of two arms from different people (father and daughter), each holding a watch. Starting on this frame reinforces a sense of urgency, the image of clocks ticking suggesting tim...

Separated by 15 years from its predecessors, The Godfather - Part III (1990) arrived in theaters three decades ago. Its director, Francis Ford Coppola, states that his original intention was not to continue the story beyond the two parts made in 1972 and 1974, and that this new work emerged as an epilogue. While it isn’t narratively essential for the story, such finale manages to respect the integrity of the unit already established by its preceding films while also justifying its own existence. The movie portrays the fall of Michael, former leader of the Corleone criminal family, in his late years. Ill and tired of remaining involved in illegitimate businesses, he seeks to bond with his two children and ex-wife, from whom he is estranged. The ending (spoiler alert) delivers the definitive hit, as Michael loses his daughter (played by Sofia Coppola, daughter of the director, in a role with which, in a certain way, he hands her to world) in an attempt on his life as he exits the opera ...

Night on the big screen. Before us, ocean waves arriving at a beach. We follow a man who staggers on the sand, suffocating under the effects of liquor. He is veteran touring artist, Zampanò, his suit visibly broken and his face bruised. He comes from a bar, having left a fight affirming he doesn’t need of anyone and wants to be alone. However, nearly two minutes afterwards in film time, our subject collapses in tears by the shore, with only the spectator as a witness and no one to offer him a hand. Such is the scene that closes Federico Fellini’s film, La Strada (1954). The movie follows the experiences of young Gelsomina, calm and innocent, with the temperamental Zampanò, whose final solitude reflects the absence of his partner, who has passed away. The force of this moment, channeled in the emotion with which Anthony Quinn portrays the afflicted circus actor, is effectively transmitted to us observing from the screen by the different elements of film language that, charged with meani...

Scares are not just loud and quick. We can know this from Director Nicolas Roeg’s and editor Tony Lawson’s adaptation of Roald Dahl’s “The Witches”. When Helga briefs her grandson Luke on the existence of witches, she recounts an episode of her life where childhood friend Erica disappeared after being sent out for milk by her father, who had just showed her his new painting.   As Helga approaches the dining table where Erica’s mother is at, the father enters the room and comes to a stop, staring right off the frame. The next shot - his point of view - pushes in slowly but decidedly towards the painting on the wall. It’s significant that she describes him as walking towards the painting, yet what the movement suggests is more of a displacement of the gaze (in contrast with the shaky coverage of Erica’s kidnapping). Older Helga’s voice narrates the scene, reflecting that “it was as though he had seen a ghost”. This is supported by the reactions of Erica’s mom and young Helga, also wi...

The physical reality of “Apollo 13” mission is that its crew doesn’t get to land on the moon. However, the cinematic adaptation, by Ron Howard, takes a further step that allows some resolution to Commander Jim Lovell’s personal quest. As the ship orbits the moon in a maneuver that will favor their return to Earth, astronauts Haise and Swigert contemplate the surface when they are close enough to get a good impression of its textures, also capturing Lovell’s attention. This observation is presented as a shot/reverse-shot where we either view the moon as seen up and close from the window, or the astronauts’ reactions looking at it.   In the last of these interactions, Lovell comes closer to the foreground, while the following shot, almost mimicking his forward movement, pushes in to the ship’s window until Lovell enters the shot and both elements (character and desired place) are in frame. What follows is a frontal close shot of Lovell from outside the ship, with the moon’s reflectio...

The Himalayas - a strange place to put a nunnery. This is the idea directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger keep coming back to in “Black Narcissus” (1947). There, an atmosphere of altitude, wind, isolation, and erotic paintings pressed on the architectural heritage of the site are the very source of distress for this group of religious leaders in what could naively be considered a place for meditation and evangelization. Yet, not all of it is cage, and there is room for spiritual ascension.   While praying in the chapel and noticing an open window with a blue sky and tree branches, Sister Clodagh reminisces her time with a former fiancée. This is suggested editorially (duties handled by Reginald Mills) by showing her closing her eyes and the frame slowly dissolving to a wide shot establishing the couple on a sunny day. Up until this point, the flashback has only been shaped as Clodagh evoking a memory. However, the transition back to the chapel creates a distinct associatio...

Past the nature of its titular game, the story of “Jumanji” carries its eeriness over to its cinematic atmosphere. Twenty-six years after the disappearance of teenager Alan Parrish, orphaned siblings Peter and Judy Shepherd move with their aunt Nora into the vacant mansion of the Parrish family, and it is within minutes of that new experience that director Joe Johnston and editor Robert Dalva establish a haunted mansion, an idea irradiated by two shots cut together: Over a long, high-angle frame, we see Peter opening the door that leads to the attic. The shot takes its time (17 seconds), as the boy comes in and explores the room with a flashlight. The creaks in the wood from the door and flooring reverberates in the windy ambiance, while the xylophone on the score, by James Horner, suggests an air of mystery and curiosity. The point of view, behind objects placed way back in the room’s furniture, is fully identified with Peter, tracking his every step at his same speed. It also stops a...

“Eaten or consumed by paperwork” - That is one of the representative images from “Brazil” (1985), directed by Terry Gilliam and edited by Julian Doyle. It is seen happening to fugitive Harry Tuttle, however, the edit of the shots and their resulting relationship assists the making of another victim to this fate: protagonist Sam Lowry. As both characters flee from the authorities, they come to be separated frame-wise and become reverse coverages in the point of view observing the scene.   Papers fly around the streets as we stay on Tuttle, when something holds him by the foot. The latter is revealed to be a thick piece of paper when we cut to his lower body, and his struggle is represented by cutting back and forth between these two shots. Papers continue almost paste themselves in his body. A medium shot with a figure crossing camera suggests Tuttle can be seen, but nobody stops to help him. We finally pick up on Sam escaping, and then back to Tuttle. The camera finds Sam, hiding b...

“Revenge of the Sith”, the final Star Wars prequel, takes its time to recount the status quo of the original “Star Wars” that is going to be reached by the end of its runtime: the fall of Anakin Skywalker. The film itself has a scene encompassing crisis and opportunity for him to change sides. After Chancellor Palpatine reveals to Anakin that he is the enemy of the Jedi, director George Lucas and editors Ben Burtt and Roger Barton present us a scene that intercuts shots of Padme, Anakin’s wife, with shots of Anakin, in a different location. These are organized in a way that is able to convey the idea of them being aware of each other at that very moment.  Suggestions to this start at the beginning of the scene, with two shots pushing in on Padme: first, a long shot; second, a medium close-up. Split into them are two actions: her, sitting on the sofa, facing down; and her, lifting her head as if a thought came to mind. We then cut to the Jedi temple, where Anakin sits (facing the op...

After canonizing its future with an opening crawl, the first shots of “Blade Runner” together give us an idea of the society we encounter in the film. This window into the world of the story consists of two types of shots: aerial wides of a futuristic Los Angeles, and the close-up of an eye upon which this city-scape is reflected. Before revealing its part in a chain of establishing shots leading into the first scene of the narrative, the eye is a disembodied one, floating (almost) among and above the city lights.  The eye could have been introduced right before revealing the body it represents, but director Ridley Scott and editor Terry Rawlings chose to intercut between these two polar opposites of shot sizes for a few exchanges, a dialogue and reinforcement of association. We can tell from the appearance of the eye - wide open -, and the reflection of the city on it that it is a vigilant one. Would this vigilant eye belong to an android or human, based on what we were told by th...

"The Shining"'s director Stanley Kubrick and editor Ray Lovejoy put together two shots which work, on a first level, as a transition from one scene to another: Jack contemplating a miniature of the hedge maze and Wendy and Danny touring the actual maze from the   Overlook   Hotel. Yet the quirky appearance of the bird’s eye view on the maze creates a brief sense of confusion, deliberately or not. Jack’s gaze in the shot that precedes it shows he doesn't just carelessly stop by the maze, but seems to be focused on thoughts that arise from it and which he projects onto it.  The frame zooming in on the maze, while establishing and locating our characters from the next scene, also relays the feeling of delving deeper into the mind of our watcher, slowly descending into a maze of thoughts (it could even be said that its layout bears a resemblance with a brain), an experience reinforced by Béla Bartok’s music, with repetition on xylophone and intensifying, sustained strings...