A recording made three years ago is resurrected in the troubled year of 2013 to remind the hosts when life was simpler and easier. In the first segment, the brothers fool around talking about an embarrassing CD made by Arlill's 5th grade choir. In the second segment, things take a sentimental turn when the brothers remember their second rabbit they had, who, shortly before the recording, had ran away (Spoiler alert: the bunny was found...then ran away again).
We are constantly tweaking the podcast format so if you have any suggestions or questions, feel free to post them in the comments.
Technical info: Recorded and edited with Garageband '11 by Arlill and Gary Rodriguez Random Chatterings Theme Song (piano and orchestrated versions) by Sergiy Turchyn "2 Player VS" from Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine composed by Tate Norio "Mystic Cave Zone (2P)" from Sonic 2 composed by Masato Nakamura 2010, 2013
Before we begin, I should mention that the previous essay on Early Summer was a similar assignment in format and content. Basically, we had to examine a continuous 3-5 minute scene and, using the film as evidence, formulate an argument about the entire film that the scene represents. I took a class on the Horror Film, hence why the trailer above is for The Exorcist, the "scariest film of all time." Before watching this movie, I did hesitate in watching it (again and again) for the purposes of a paper, mostly because of the infamous maze game (not the actual video) that rewarded its players with an extreme closeup of the possessed child. To me, The Exorcist was basically this image for 75 minutes. After finally watching the film, I found it to be one of the more forgiving horror films I've seen. Let me explain. Unlike the original 1974 release of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre, which from beginning to end, induced a relentless mood of dread and grotesqueness, The Exorcist frightened you for one minute then had 5 minutes of exposition, allowing the viewer to process the previous scenes more easily. During the brainstorming process for this essay, I thought about interpreting the film as a metaphor for puberty, but upon realizing how little I know about pre-teen girls in that age, I thought about how the film relegates the "monster"(Linda Blair), if we wish to call her that, into a single location that the other characters, specifically the mother (Ellen Bursytn), has to constantly return to throughout the film, making me consider the film's subtle critique about the security of the household. Without a doubt, however, The Exorcist is one of the most disturbing films ever made and if you can look beyond that creepy face, you might enjoy this horror classic.
The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973) in the guise of being a typical horror film, is also a reinterpretation of the creature, established in early horror cinema, as a contained beast. In the film, a young 12-year old girl suddenly becomes more aggressive, violent and profane much to the concern of her distressed mother. The film introduces a conflicting dynamic with the mother locking her daughter in her room, always coming to her daughter's aid when she desperately needs it but becoming more and more horrified at what her daughter is becoming. The issue of security in the household is demonstrated in The Exorcist via from the film's display of the safe home.
The scene [10:27-12:25] opens with an extreme long shot of the city of Georgetown and the sound of a plane flying overhead. The camera zooms in to one of the many buildings in Georgetown as we hear car honks and kids playing nearby. We then cut to Chris's room where she has turned on her lamp and hears a noise. Chris puts on her orange robe over her white nightgown and walks to the banister. She hears the noise again, and a low angle shot shows Chris assuming the noise is from the attic. She opens the door to her daughter Regan's room and from a POV shot, we see Regan sleeping and the window open. The camera then slowly tracks Chris as she closes the window, approaches Regan's bed, and kisses her daughter on the forehead, telling Regan that she loves her.
The film presents the ideal of a secure community and establishes the risks present in giving too much confidence in it. In the establishing shot of Georgetown [10:27-10:50] we are introduced to a more pleasant and familiar setting of houses rounding out the block. With this brief glimpse, we get the feeling of how diverse and historical the city is with large mansions peeking out in the background and a tall clock tower that is barely visible from the hazy sky. We also see the cars are traveling at just the right speed, almost as though the drivers were coordinated and in less of a hurry, a casual drive across the way. As the camera zooms in and tracks Chris' apartment, we hear many of the noises associated with urban life: an airplane zooming, cars honking, buses hissing, and children playing nearby. With the camera zooming in as slowly as possible, it lures the viewer into the peaceful nature of the city and assures us that there is nothing wrong. When Chris goes to her daughter's room, [11:40-11:50], she notices that Regan, wearing a bright yellow pajama, sleeps without the covers on her and tightly holds the pillow close to her, unaware that her room is getting colder. With the window open, we get reminded of the noises of the city, but also notice that they are much louder than before. The city noises are a brief reminder of the numerous threats that exists from outside of the window and outside of the home. Regan is left vulnerable to any potential threat and in turn, reminds us of the possibility of intrusion into our own homes. To further validate the idea of false security, Chris, after brushing Regan's hair, appreciatively says, "I sure do love you" and kisses her on the forehead. It is a parental instinct to kiss our loved ones when they get injured or scratched and is an effective placebo although nothing actually changes; the child still has the scratches and the brief trauma of their injury.
The film utilizes the screen space to begin stirring up dubious feelings about the security of the household. The film constantly pairs up scenes that have noticeable size differences to create a startling effect that keeps the viewer alert. One example is how immediately after zooming in to the house, the film cuts to an extreme close up of the lamp pointing away from us. The film also plays around with space, using very stark shapes to orientate the perspective and direction we intend to look at but the following shot contradicts it. This conflict creates a type of unfamiliarity with the space that unbalances the action-taking place. The film, cutting from a less distant shot to a further one [11:17], also emphasizes the distance between Chris and Regan's room. In this case, it makes it appear longer than it really is, increasing the suspense Chris has as she walks toward the noise, and making it clear that there can be doubt and tension from walking a short distance, even from within a familiar place. In the same shot [11:17], the camera is placed right where two bars of the banister, out of focus, enclose Chris within a space until the camera moves up and tracks Chris' movement, giving the impression that Chris is being watched. After hearing the noise again, Chris becomes much more reserved and ties up her robe, anxiously looking in all directions for the source of the noise. Shortly after [12:01-12:04], Chris walks more hastily to her daughter's room where she has a bit of trouble opening the door.
Doors, as a form of security, are shown to be a frightening aspect in the movie when it accomplishes the opposite of its intended purpose. After hearing the noise, we cut to an extreme close up of the doorknob [11:03] then cuts right back to Chris. For a brief moment, the film makes it unclear as to which door the doorknob opens and even creates anxiety when it appears that the doorknob jiggles for a split second before the camera goes back to Chris. This accentuates the uncertainty created from a doorknob delaying the viable danger, as it is made very unclear as to when the doorknob shot was intended for and, in this case, being a literal delay from the film allowing Chris to get up and open the door. The door is the only thing dividing Chris and her daughter after Regan becomes possessed later in the film [44:35]. For Chris, her daughter becoming possessed is no different from discovering a burglar has broken into the room as it is an unexpected breach of her indemnity. The door and the window are both meant to keep the characters safe but the film conditions them as potential hazards.
The window is another example of when security is put into question as to how effective a window can be as a form of protection. The window is meant to protect whoever is inside, but unlike the wooden door, it mostly made of very fragile glass. To the homeowner, the window becomes an illusion of security that is only intended as an aesthetic inclusion that cannot protect the home without reinforcement. In the film, the window is at the opposite side of the door, increasing the tension created from Chris walking across the room to close the window and inspect the room. The moving curtains [12:05] also emphasis another fraudulent form of security as a transparency that appears to make the room more private and disregarding that any stray rock thrown instantly shatters the illusion of a protected house. At the end of the film, Damian, the priest, deliberately dives through the window to stop the devil from possessing him, killing himself in the process [2:01:30-2:02:40].
A horror film is designed to make the viewer dread the unknown or the misunderstood, whether it is a monster or an abandoned cemetery. The Exorcist, however, considers another potential source for fear, the room where your loved one resides, transformed against their own will. As previously mentioned, the door gradually becomes conditioned as a tense hesitation. However, the film also recognizes how an unstable bond or a lack of understanding within the family can also be a horrific element. For any parent in a caring relationship with their child, nothing could be more terrifying than coping with your loved one's sudden transformation without understanding it. Despite Regan's conversion via the devil's possession, a concerned parent would never regard her or their loved one as a "monster", believing wholeheartedly that their child's innocence is still preserved within. The other question is whether it would be better to strictly enforce the house's security by reducing the connection to the outside world to only the front door or believing the illusion of a protected house if only to get a glimpse of something pleasant outside every now and then.
Works cited:
The Exorcist: The Version You've Never Seen. Dir. William Friedken. Perf. Ellen Burstyn, Max Von Sydow, Linda Blair, Lee J. Cobb. Warner Home Video, 1973. DVD.
In this episode, we are introduced to Arlill's brother and permanent co-host, Gary Rodriguez as they go from the ends of the universe and back in the first segment. In the second segment, they talk about video games, including a very notorious one from their childhood. We are constantly tweaking the podcast format so if you have any suggestions or questions, feel free to post them in the comments.
In this episode, I discuss what a terrible singer I am, try to recommend an Indie group, and inject Neo Nazis in a conversation yet again.
This is a bit experimental as I have posted the previous episodes on Tumblr and I will start researching other methods for posting audio. DOWNLOAD [12:01]
Technical info:
Recorded with a Sansa Fuze, edited with Garageband '11 by Arlill Rodriguez
Random Chatterings Theme Song (piano and orchestrated versions) by Sergiy Turchyn
Baby Don't Go from the album, I Will Be by The Dum Dum Girls: wearedumdumgirls.com
Part three of a three-part "weekly" series. This was the paper that convinced me to begin this series as it was the first time I remembered that I was enthusiastic throughout the entire process about writing a paper on a movie I didn't expect to love. We were told in our Intro to Film class not to evaluate the movie directly and only make an argumentative assessment as to what the film ultimately means. I can already mention that this will be a difficult film to watch simply because it is not like many of the contemporary films we see nowadays. I can't explain why that is and even after watching the film twice for the paper, I don't think I explained my reaction understandably and why the film had a profound effect on me on how I will approach my projects in the future, much like my masterpiece, Awkward Arley. I will admit that the other reason I'm posting this is because it was the first essay I wrote and turned on time that received an A-. For that achievement alone, I think it is appropriate to post this although it won't make sense to those who have not seen the film, Early Summer. If you have two hours to spare, please watch the movie and give it a chance. It might just surprise you.
Early Summer (Yasujiro Ozu, 1951) introduces a different interpretation of the household, distancing it from the saccharine fantasy depicted in many US films and instead presenting something that demands interpretation. The film explores the dynamics of the Mamiya family, all living together in the same house for many years. Although it introduces the family as though they are emotionally close, we begin to understand how there is a disconnect in their understanding of the world and in each other. Not only is there emotional distancing between the different family members but also in the film itself within the visible screen space. In the opening sequence [2:31-5:31], a dog runs along the beach just as the waves are rolling in. The waves continue to roll by for a few moments until the film cuts to a bird chirping in a cage. Not long after, the film cuts to birds in two cages, each noticeably distant from the other. Here, we are first introduced to a room of the Mamiya house is devoid of anything except the birdcages and the interior walls. We jump cut to Grandpa making tea in another room and later on to the table where the family is eating breakfast. The film jump cuts to an extreme long shot of the breakfast table, right when Grandpa takes his seat. The beach is a constant theme in Early Summer that refers back to isolation. We refer back to the opening scene "[2:31-2:41] where we see the waves approaching the shore where there is a little dog that wanders back and forth along the shoreline until it walks off-screen." Without any kind of prior knowledge, we are immediately presented with a lone puppy that does not seem to know where it is going. With only the waves rolling by as the only sound we hear, it is an unsettling opening that establishes the tone the rest of the film has with regards to emptying the space and thinking about what is missing. The ocean can also be seen as a meditative device that anchors the viewer into trying to piece together all of the relationships that we are introduced to later on. We get this impression later on when the film shows us "the waves approaching the shore until the film cuts abruptly to a bird in a cage [2:41-2:51]". The ocean becomes an emotional release that simplifies the confusing nature of the film yet also acknowledging how it remains an important element throughout the film. In both ways, the ocean has both observations of isolation: as a potentially dangerous choice or as an occasional necessity. The ocean is represented again "at [1:11:42-1:12:09] when the kids walk along the road, frustrated at their father for not buying their train tracks." The scene makes us focus on how their thought process isolates them from the adults' and how the kids have knowingly endangered themselves by leaving their home. The use of framing in Early Summer is its own unconventional device that further establishes the isolation within the screen space. After the waves, "[3:00-3:08] the film jumps right to the bird cage and has on a match on action shot related to sound as the bird chirping leads to the next shot of the other two bird cages." A striking detail is how one of the cages is shone in the bright light and the other cage is out of focus and covered in darkness. In this brief shot, we notice how the film chooses to keep certain things in and out of focus that at once balances the shot within the frame but also leaves with the impression of a seemingly empty house. The moment is brief but it forces the viewer to look very closely and understand exactly where in the house we currently are. The film repeats this shot only a few moments later when Isamu's brother goes to the hallway to get pickles for Noriko. If it was not for the innocent traditional music that begins playing and establishes the house as a friendly place, this scene would be much more unsettling. As the perspective is shifted at a diagonal perspective and the focus of the frame is on the characters, leaving the defined lines of the entrances and hallways as unusual elements that further distance ourselves from the characters. In the "breakfast scene [4:17-4:30], the camera completely changes direction and opts to have Noriko facing away from the camera", which is a startling moment for a viewer expecting to see both faces. By doing this, we can only imagine what facial expressions Noriko is making even if Noriko's character seems to be a predictably optimistic one from the first sight. What's more unusual is how we do not really know who any of the characters are in the beginning and how we can easily confuse their roles with other characters. Unlike contemporary films of this day and age that overuse closeups and extreme closeups to emphasize character interactions, Early Summer challenges the viewer to make our interpretations as to what the family is thinking and doing. Much like the film's opening, we are instantly dropped into the household with few details other than the ones we can assume at first sight. There's very little camera movement in Early Summer, or at least, very dramatic camera movement such as a tracking shot that follows the characters around. Instead, the film opts for having many cuts of a character entering and leaving rooms but leaving the camera fixed at one point, at a low height and at a straight-on angle. In fact, the camera seems to jump around from room to room and remains fixed in one place although it occasionally moves closer to the characters but only when it seems necessary and does not abuse it as often as contemporary films do nowadays. Likewise, the idea of having separate rooms can be interpreted as individual spaces that further establish the seclusion that is represented in the film. Later on, the camera sits at a low height and begins moving into the room, emphasizing how the film tends to jump around scene to scene once a certain shot has fulfilled its purpose. In each individual shot, we are only given a small glimpse of each room. This further distances us from the characters and we are left only to observe their actions which could be as inconsequential as going from one room to the next to later in the film when Noriko runs up to her room and cries at the thought of leaving her family behind. In a way, the individual shots are secluded thoughts or concepts that the characters seems to jump in and out of them, seeming to casual interact with the space that we pay very close attention to. It’s also interesting to acknowledge how many other moments of story space the film decides to not show us. One such example is after we have learned about the family's desires for Noriko to get married; she casually mentions how she will be going to her friend's wedding. In another film, we would've seen Noriko at the wedding and her emotional response to being at the ceremony and comparing to her situation but in Early Summer, the only reference we get of that wedding is the cake Noriko brings back home. Another supposedly important moment is when the kids run away from home after Koichi hits them for misbehaving. Instead of focusing on searching for the kids, instead we see Koichi and Kenkichi playing poker and talking about their lives and later receiving a phone call, keeping the focus only on the characters rather than a potentially unfulfilling moment that distracts the viewer from the overall focus of the plot. The film makes us focus on the many perspectives of all of the characters but never forces us a message on us and never designates which character is right or wrong. The movie is about life. Later on, we see the kids complaining to their father Koishi about bringing home bread when they thought Koichi would get tracks for their train set. The children are focused on having the attention solely on themselves and getting whatever they want. It's understood that the kids could also be a form of comic relief when the film becomes dramatic. As the film goes on, we're presented with the lifestyle and differences in ideology from what we're used to seeing. The emotions of the characters aren't clearly defined or spoken out loud. It might bother us to see the other characters hoping for 28-year old Noriko to suddenly find a person to marry and being aware of the pressure given to her by her family until we remember when the film was created: 1951, 6 years after the end of World War II and the catastrophic damage done to Japan and we can begin to understand where the pressure is coming from. Throughout the film, we get many references to the hardships the family has gone through such as when Noriko and her sister are eating cake and they recognize what the value of cake is compared to something they would actually need. Another example of the film's unusual way to portray life shortly after the breakfast scene when Noriko waits at the train station and talks with her childhood friend, Kenkichi, who she will end up getting engaged to later on. There is an extreme long shot of the train moving from the right side of the frame to the left with the music from the title sequence playing again. Unlike many other films that focus on having an overall conflict that pushes forth the direction of the film, Early Summer isn't as forceful with its own narrative. Early Summer becomes a more complicated film than we give it credit for. In its portrayal of the family dynamic as an isolated space rather than something picturesque, the film includes another depth of meaning to its already complicated ideal. The characters wear different kinds of clothing that confuse us into understanding what time period we are currently in the film but after a while we begin to realize how unimportant that kind of thinking is. If we wanted to explain the plot of the film very succinctly, we would be doing a disservice to the meaning of the film. Early Summer is a mysterious film that forces us to closely examine the characters in a way that is not encouraged in other contemporary films.
Works cited: Early Summer. Dir. Yasujiro Ozu. Perf. Setsuko Hara, Chishu Ryu, Chikage Awashima, Kuniko Miyake. Shochiku, 1951. DVD.
