Those of you who know me know that I Am Legend has always been my dream project. The themes in the book are ones I usually hit on when attempting dramatic works, so it's always really grabbed me. When I saw the flick, I was disappointed. The movie is good, but the way Hollywood cocked it up (the project was in development hell for many years) just betrayed the book and paradigm-shifting concept.
The original ending is amazing. While still not close to the book's plot, the original ending at least stays thematically correct. It's worth watching.
I feel cheated that this was not the ending I saw in the theater.
Here's a little article I found on Digg: Cuts in Movies and Their Impact on Memory. In the article, the authors discuss a study that shows a viewer's memory of the actions in a scene isn't as good if the scene utilizes cuts as opposed to a still or moving camera.
Apparently, the reason for this is that our eyes take a moment to adjust to the composition of the new shot. Not surprising as Walter Murch wrote of this in his book, In the Blink of an Eye.
While I found the article interesting, what I found more interesting were the comments in following the article. The majority of people posting on their seem to think that longer takes equals better film or better directing. Maybe it's because faster paced editing is so associated as the requisite technique in brainless action films (see any Michael Bay atrocity for evidence of this).
Editing, regardless of pace, exists as a technique to tell the story. The way shots are put together creates new meanings that may not be evident in the long take. The speed of the cuts may elicit an emotional response (such as a disorienting confusion) or the refusal to cut away from a shot may be to force us to witness something (such as a character's reaction.) We should also remember that editing isn't just cutting, but also not cutting.
Anyway, it seems to me that editing may be the most misunderstood part of the motion picture arts to the general public. I may pen some articles on basic editing theory in the future.
Personally, I despise articles like these because right from the headline, the reader (who is most likely a casual art consumer at best) immediately takes it to be a full vilification of the art world. Apparently, art critics are just "too stupid" and "gullible" and can easily be fooled by mere "paint daubs."
Unfortunately, the majority of people feel intimidated by the modern art world. It sometimes makes no sense. Sometimes, it is too conceptual and leaves you feeling like you need some sort of decoder ring to understand it. When some article comes out about how a "toddler fool[ed] the art world" then we can all feel superior to this intimidating culture. We can laugh and pat ourselves on the back about how we would never buy canvas fingerpainted by someone who still shits his pants.
But here's the thing: I've looked at those pictures of this toddler's work. They're absolutely beautiful. The use of color and the raw energy in the marks captivate me. I don't care if the person who made it was 2 or 102, they still look amazing.
Picasso once said, "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up." And it's true. This kid is painting his paintings with the whole of his being. He doesn't care what anyone thinks of them or even if they're good enough. He's delighting himself in the act of painting and that's it. It's the purest form of artmaking there is. He's expressing himself purely through the colors onto the canvas. Sure, it may not look like some Thomas Kinkade piece of crap (Kinkade being a talented hack for people who think that art should be snow covered cottages), but it is a pure piece of expression.
The people mocking the art critics now may feel superior, but in my estimation, they didn't get it then and they sure as hell don't get it now. They just lack the ability to see the brilliance in front of them.
We all remember haiku from back in public school. The teacher would try to instill in us a desire to read and/or create poetry and the haiku was a nice, easy way to do that. 5-7-5, that's it.
Here's five syllables. Holy shit! Here's seven more! Have another five.
Promptly after class, we'd gather together and make as many insulting or fucked-up haiku as possible.
You're such a douchebag. With a fat ass and bad breath. You eat your own poop.
After awhile, counting syllables would get pretty boring, and we'd just start trading insults. That was the extent of haiku for me back then.
However, a few years ago, I was reading about Jack Kerouac (pictured above with cat, of course) and his haiku. I found out that aside from the fascistic syllable count, a haiku was supposed to capture a mood of mystery, poverty, isolation, or impermanence. Haikus have a feeling of the "now" and are more suggestive of a moment than they are descriptive.
Kerouac suggested that sticking to a rigid syllable pattern wasn't necessary since our language is vastly different from that of the Japanese. Instead of focusing on 5-7-5, we should just use three short lines.
Here are four haiku by Kerouac:
Useless, useless the heavy rain Driving into the sea
Perfect moonlit night marred by family squabbles
Those birds sitting out there on the fence They're all going to die
In my medicine cabinet the winter fly has died of old age
The video below is from a class project I did about 4 years ago where we had to make video haiku. The videos could've had text or not. They could've been haiku written by ourselves or others. I opted to take these four Kerouac haiku and marry them to video.
Finally, I've been inspired by French Toast Girl and her current project of producing a picture or significant progress on a picture for every day in May. While I came into May late, I'm going to attempt to create a haiku in the Kerouac style that follows the Japanese convention of catching a moment.
