Whether jumping between ships, diving into a river, knocking out a policeman, or running for his life Buster Keaton peppers every scene with numerous punchlines. The narrative itself takes a back seat to the visual comedy. The audience knows the two young lovers will eventually connect, but the thrill resides in anticipating what wacky situations will temporarily derail that plot. Steamboat Bill, Jr. even features what many call Buster Keaton’s most dangerous and must-see stunt: fitting perfectly through an open window in a house’s falling facade. Keaton supposedly even told his director to keep the camera rolling no matter what. Valuing these stunts and visual marvels over the story is what makes Steamboat Bill, Jr. resemble the “cinema of attractions” more than a narrative focused film.

My particular showing of Steamboat Bill, Jr. also included live piano accompaniment by Philip Carli, which simply added to the sense of “attraction.” Now not only did the film itself want to draw the audience’s attention away from the plot and towards the technical craft of the stunts and gags, but the theater also added its own additional artistry to the experience. Even though we remember Buster Keaton for fusing his stunts with more than serviceable story, between him and Philip Carli the narrative did not stand a chance.

Of course all of this applies to a silent film from 1928, but how does it apply to modern cinema? Well, over the years it naturally progressed from Keaton (who was already fusing action with narrative) to franchises that dominate our current theaters. If you look at Marvel or the Fast & Furious franchise, these films draw in audiences with the promise of spectacle. Of course there is an interesting through line across the films, but the action remains the primary draw. Even as budgets and technology have skyrocketed, the principals found in Steamboat Bill, Jr. still hold true today.

Once you do away with the facade and superfluous story, whether it is Fast & Furious or pornography, in the end, you’re just there for the explosions.

The post The Evolution of the Cinema of Attractions appeared first on MovieRiffing.

Usually, studios provide theaters with roughly 90 days of exclusivity before releasing films through other means. With Universal Pictures now defying that norm, this could potentially lead to long term issues for theaters. Will moviegoers want to give up the convenience of their own home? After all, home theater set-ups have improved substantially and it seems harder and harder to find a venue with patrons not on their phones or talking to one another.

After a few months of social distancing, new habits will form. Once loyal theatergoers may begin to shun going out for the latest films and embrace a simpler and more personal experience. Home set-ups may never truly match the screen and sound quality of a decent theater, but how good is good enough? Is the pure spectacle of it all still a strong draw? Or are Universal’s actions another nail in the traditional theater system’s coffin?

The post Universal Pictures to Release Films on VOD Amid Coronavirus appeared first on MovieRiffing.

Click here to watch the video version of this essay.

The following scene analysis contains spoilers for Some Like It Hot (1959).

Back beneath the table, Wilder packs the frame tightly, producing a sense of claustrophobia and anxiety. A pole runs in front of our view of Joe, a tablecloth takes up a quarter of the frame on either side, and Wilder films both Joe and Jerry with a medium close-up shot. But perhaps most importantly, Spats’ trademark shoes reside on the left-hand side of the frame, just behind Joe and slightly out of focus, but prominent enough to remind us of the danger of the situation.

The film routinely introduces the primary antagonist, Spats Colombo (George Raft), with a close-up shot of his distinct shoes. The film then either cuts to his face or employs an upward pan (tilt) to reveal the entirety of the menacing man. This process of association takes place repeatedly throughout Some Like It Hot. So by the time Joe and Jerry find themselves underneath the table, the audience understands the dramatic weight of the shoes sharing the frame. Tensions peak when all of these elements come together for a brief few seconds, and then momentarily dissipate when the unmistakable shoes slide out and go limp for the last time. That is, until we and our protagonists realize an even larger threat just effortlessly inserted himself into the chase.

The post How Some Like It Hot Uses Props to Create Tension appeared first on MovieRiffing.

Click here to listen to an audio version of this review.

Following David from the moment he checks into the hotel, we watch him struggle to find a companion. Under normal circumstances this would elicit minor sympathy, but here if he cannot find a suitable partner in time the hotel will turn him into the titular lobster. All loners in this dystopian future face transformation if caught by the guests of the hotel.

Unfortunately, this intriguing world-building does not go anywhere. Besides showing a few animals who supposedly had prior lives, The Lobster shoos away its own backdrop to instead focus on the social commentary presented throughout the film.

The Lobster’s hotel serves as a stand-in for society’s pressure to find a romantic partner no matter the cost or compromise. The Limping Man must self-harm in order to date the Nosebleed Woman, and David becomes someone he’s not to involve himself with the Heartless Woman. With everyone so indebted to their “defining traits”, at least one person in every relationship is sacrificing due to them feeling as if their time to find another is running out. Societal pressures do not truly care if two people are compatible, and if you succumb to the coercion you sacrifice your own identity.

These themes coupled with Lanthimos’ excellent shot composition and framing seem poised to create a compelling final product, one to rival The Favourite (a favorite), but they get lost somewhere in the middle. The Lobster repeats the same idea of forced compromise over and over without any alterations. When Lanthimos goes for his trademarked abrupt and ambiguous ending, it comes across as oddly subdued. In place of an, “Oh my gosh I can’t believe he ended it there…brilliant!” was a, “Yeah okay…I guess he can end it there…seems kind of obvious though.” While thought provoking and open to different interpretations (perhaps revealing something about you and your own partner), it fails to make a new statement. If you chop off the final scene, The Lobster does not lose any of its messages, and regrettably not because it had an abundance to begin with.

The Lobster’s appeal after the first half hour or so quickly dissipates once Lanthimos refuses to expand on his world or theme. An engrossing dystopian backdrop and camera skill can only take a film so far, and this attempt feels underdeveloped and incomplete. After the first act The Lobster has said all it wants to say, and then just hangs around for a while. As the credits roll you can’t help but feel like a guest at the hotel, weary and uninterested.

The post The Lobster – Review appeared first on MovieRiffing.