Les Poissons

            Jean Malek’s Les Poissons (English: “The Fishes”) is an interesting mix of a modern medium and an ancient literary art. Malek brings the two together to create the live-action film poem that is Les Poissons.

            The main problem with this model seems to be combining and melding the harsh reality of live-action film with the whimsical nature of poetry to create something that is still relevant and beautiful. Scenes of average life - such as the group of friends bowling or walking down the street or eating together – may appear to be wrongly juxtaposed with the grandiose and symbolic writing style of the poem that is narrated over it. However, this is true only if these scenes of average life are presented averagely.

            Malek expertly uses his camera to disassociate his visuals from reality. First of all, the only audio we hear aside from the narration is the score which plays throughout. Losing one sense immediately cuts down on the realism. In addition, jump cuts are constantly taking place to remove the viewer from the realistic timeframe. Finally, heavy color modification was used on the film to create a more epic feeling of poetry – the rich, somewhat faded colors evoke a sense of a dream more than the stark tones of reality.

            Using these techniques, Malek was able to craft a live-action poem that makes an impacting statement. The subject that I saw was suicide, and Malek was able to comment on that subject with scenes of normality because of the aforementioned techniques. No matter what interpretation of the poem you make, the medium of film does not hold that interpretation back.

Watch here: Les Poissons

No Deal

               The use of cuts to “jump forward” through time in No Deal intrigued me. Although I’ve seen this technique used many times in feature films and television, during a closer watch of No Deal I can understand how it is utilized to heighten comedic timing.

            At one point in the short, the female lead’s eccentric and rather creepy friend brings out the board game Monopoly, lamenting on how he’ll have to play it alone. The male lead, who presumably came home with her to hook up with her and not to play board games, watches as she tells her roommate that you can’t play monopoly by yourself. Instead of having a sequence of shots showing the trio starting up a game of monopoly following the awkward silence in the doorway, the short cuts straight to them mid-game. The result is that the complete absurdity and awkwardness of the situation for our main character hits the viewer with much more contrast – and the joke is much funnier.

            The startling jump in time contributes as much to the humor as the overall situation itself, and I will keep my eye out for opportunities to use this technique myself.

Watch here: No Deal

Boom Boom

               Much of the dark comedic value in Larry and Terry Ziegelman’s short Boom Boom comes from the completely inappropriate subject matter. By using a violent and horrific plot device (two jihadists preparing to bomb the same café) to bring about a lighthearted interaction (two old friends with opposite personalities meeting up for the first time in years) an absurd and extremely funny short is born. In order to emphasize this comedy, the Ziegelman’s utilize intelligent camera work to switch tones from dark to light.

            The short opens with the tone of a dark, serious thriller in the same vein as The Hurt Locker. We are shown the shaking hands of the potential suicide bomber through the rippling of his coffee cup. To add to the extreme tension and buildup of the terrorists situation, a substantially out-of-focus shot is used. The subjective camera angle of the cup combined with this unfocused shot create a sense of impending doom, especially when followed with the image of the terrorist breathing heavily and rolling his eyes up. We are basically told from this series of shots that this man is under enormous stress and preparing to do something terrible.

Watch here: Boom Boom

            I love how the comedy stems from the switch in tone between this opening scene and the highly lit, lighthearted jesting between the two jihadists. Boom Boom represents a fantastic example of how subtle use of camerawork can contribute just as much to a comedy as acting and dialogue.

The Rules of the Game

            It would certainly be easy to write a traditional, linear narrative about a man taking revenge on the man who dares to have an affair with his fiancée. However, in The Rules of the Game, scriptwriter Sam Michell crafts a plotline that maximizes curiosity and tension in the audience.

            Michell has our main character breaking the fourth wall and outlining to the audience what a hypothetical man (clearly himself) would do in a hypothetical situation concerning an affair (clearly what he’s embroiled in). Creatively, the character explains everything while moving about an estate he’s renting, speaking in between his trivial explorations and wanderings.

            This formula puts the audience on edge. The first question runs through the background of the mind of the viewer: why is he in this mansion? Next, the obvious follow-up: how did he get here? Because the setting of the storyteller does not match with the settings of the stories he is telling, the audience tries to find a logical link between the two. This absolutely glued me to the screen. Maybe it’s the location of a funeral. Maybe he’s setting some sort of trap. Maybe it’s a fake honeymoon he plans on luring his amorous fiancée and best man to. No matter what the speculation, the outcome is that the audience is fully engaged and emotionally invested in the storyline.

            This is enhanced by the character’s constant steps backward in his stories. With the phrase “of course not”, our lead takes back a part of his story quicker than it happened. Suddenly, he didn’t castrate the best man, or he didn’t plan out the elaborate revelation of incriminating pictures at his wedding. This had me completely taken aback. Unusually enough, Michell seems ready to throw away lengthy chunks of character and plot development at a moment’s notice – and the result is shocking. If any of the main character’s plans and back-stories could be false, then what is the true reason he is in the estate? We as an audience are kept constantly guessing, and, inevitably, burning with curiosity to find out the truth.

            Although the impeccable acting, brilliant camerawork and quirky dark humor completed this short movie, the script structure was the root of its success. Telling the story from an unreliable narrator’s flashbacks kept a standard tale of revenge very fresh indeed.

Watch Here: The Rules of the Game

Tune for Two

            I won’t pretend to fully understand Gunnar Järvstad’s Tune for Two. I’m not sure if its intent is to make the viewer laugh or to make him question humanity and morality. What I do know, however, is that the juxtaposition of execution and childhood song was presented with flawless artistry. That makes this short one of the most emotionally effective that I’ve seen in a long time.

            The choice to use a POV shot to establish setting and open the film contributed much to how we feel about the character bound to be executed. By seeing the action from his eyes, we immediately feel like we should relate to him on a subconscious level. The edge blurring and slow opening and closing of the “eyelids” add to the disorienting realism. These touches make the POV feel as if it’s trapping the viewer rather than empowering them – as we see the grave being dug and “our” body being dragged helplessly, we feel weak and unable to move. The feeling of panic ensues, setting the stage for the strangely comic twist.

            But before we arrive at that twist, the dramatic moments are further enhanced by the impeccable acting displayed by our two (and only) leads. What impressed me about the victim’s acting was actually what was left out. In intense emotional scenes like the one that we are given here (a man knowing he is about to die), I feel that it would be easy to overact and force out sobbing and screams. However, the actor playing the victim does nothing of the sort. He looks up at the sky in pain, very slightly blinking his eyes at the stark white sunlight. He seems to choke intermittently, swaying from accepting his fate and questioning how the hell he ended up in this morbid situation. These small cues are subtle, but cause our emotional reaction to hit far deeper than a clearly fake acting session.

            Due to this intricate setup, the singing of “Mahna Mahna” is so violently unexpected that it forces uncomfortable laughter or at least a smile. Again, the acting impresses as the killer allows his icy glare to be murderous and unfeeling as well as recognizably human. He does this with, once again, almost no obvious cues. The ensuing contrast in tone turns this film into a very unusual dark comedy.

Watch here: Tune for Two