Lifted "Spirits"

"That's a good start! Once you've met someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

Having recently viewed Hayao Miyazaki's sprawling animated epic "Spirited Away" for the fourth or fifth time this past week, I must admit that the fantastical story of Chihiro has come to hold a special place in my cinematic heart. Beautifully executed by Miyazaki and his animation team, "Spirited Away" excels where Disney fails - it effectively creates a supernatural realm through the use of ambiguity and suggestion. Seemingly odd practices go unexplained: as the movie progresses, we slowly become attuned the conventions of an unconventional spirit world, as does our young heroine. The majesty of the spiritual realm we are unknowingly thrust into arises from its mystery. We are enamored with its variety of colorful characters and lovingly executed scenery because it is new and unexplained, instilling within us a curious child-like wonder.

In viewing parts of the film in its native Japanese language, I must say I have gained a new respect for "Spirited Away" - it is indeed astounding how even a superb English dubbing can dilute the content of a film. The scene in which Yubaba threatens to tear Haku to shreds after ceding to him that Chihiro may leave the bath house after a final test came as a revelation to me: I had seen this film several times beforehand, and yet this singular display of Haku's selflessness (as displayed in the Japanese version) made me rethink the entire ending of the film. It lent a new gravitas to Haku's characterization, the purity of his love for Chihiro, and his willingness to put his own survival on the backburner as he attended to ensuring her safety.

What a gorgeous sentiment... let's see Walt try and beat that one.

The final scene of the film is also best viewed with the Japanese audio, as the English translation does not do justice to the original's poignancy. The silence that marks the end of the film is a testament to the ethereal, translucent quality of the film... we are not certain of whether Chihiro has retained her memories of the spirit world, and perhaps it was a wise decision on Miyazaki's part to leave his audience with this sentiment. In all honesty, Chihiro's ability to recall her experience is irrelevant - she will remain irrevocably changed in either scenario.

All in all, this film is a homerun for parents, children, students of film, spirits, witches, toads, and all other-worldly creatures.

Simply put, this film summons an experience long forgotten by most of us - a realm in which the extraordinary is a daily occurrence, where we are the masters of our own fate. Amen.

The Art of Film

There comes a time when writers must use their accessibility to an audience as a means of conveying a certain point – a message that for far too long has gone unheard. Using this column as a vehicle for communication in attempting to reach out to the student body at large (assuming, of course, that some of you actually take the time to read it), I’d like to take this opportunity to discuss an under-appreciated elective course I am taking this semester. Created several years ago by Mr. James Dazsenski, The Art of Film is a semester-long course geared at changing the attitude students present toward film – altering the metaphorical lens through which they view the cinema of America and other countries.


With the rigorous course-load that has become typical of high-school students in this day and age – not to mention this district – enjoyable elective classes do indeed fall by the wayside. Many of us are so overburdened with work by our core classes that the thought of possibly taking a less-challenging-yet-still-enriching course proves unappealing.

I am no stranger to this aforementioned logic, this inability to look beyond an AP label to see the true worth of a class like Robotics or Digital Darkroom. I am, however, very grateful that upon reaching this – my senior year – I was able to take the plunge of registering for a class that I was genuinely interested in, a course that I am taking sheerly because of the fact that I want to be there. Instead of having a free fifth period, I chose to be present in an elective class which is in many respects one of the highlights of my day.

With all that said, I’d like to take a moment to describe to you the fifth-period environment I am so fond of. The Art of Film presents films in their entirety – a luxury not often afforded courses that have substantial amounts of material to cover in preparation for a test come mid-May. The class is oriented around the world of film, with undivided attention given to the manner in which films are constructed. From analyzing dialogue, to dissecting scene compositions, to understanding a director’s tactics in dealing with his actors, The Art of Film allows students a vastly deeper appreciation for film. Being a critic of film for The Southerner, it is a sobering experience to be enrolled in a course that directly appeals to my interests. To put it quite bluntly, I love movies, and am more than happy to be taking a class that will have no bearing on my admittance to college because I thoroughly enjoy it.

As of my writing this article, there are currently eight people enrolled in the fifth period section of The Art of Film. Eight people. I have no idea what the statistics are for other classes of this nature, but it does somewhat sadden me to have such a fine class fly so below the radar.

I implore each of you to find the time within your schedule to take a course that you are drawn to, even if it does seem unnecessary for your transcript. It may just prove to be one of the best classes you take during your short time here at Great Neck South. I know I’ve diverged somewhat from the usual content of my column, but I feel obligated as a lover of film and as a fellow student to advocate a course I am so deeply fond of.

If you need to reach me, I’ll be viewing fine cinema in Room 452 fifth period. You are more than welcome to join.

Foreign Films: The Final Frontier for American Moviegoers

Perpetually at the forefront of innovative filmmaking, foreign cinema in recent years has proven itself not only meritorious of critical attention, but also capable of commercial success. Perhaps it is just a theory of mine, but I feel as if a new age has recently been dawning for the American public: we have slowly but surely been further embracing the cinematic fare of other countries.

Although no definitive study can be performed to gauge just to what extent we Americans have allowed foreign filmmakers to assimilate their cinematic visions into our culture at large, it is undeniable the increased press they have been receiving, especially in recent years. For proof of this, one need look no further than this year’s crop of Academy-Award hopefuls, with two French films garnering nominations, and in some instances wins, in major categories.


Julian Schnabel’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, based on the memoir of French journalist Jean-Dominique Bauby, chronicles Bauby in the aftermath of a massive stroke, which renders him paralyzed in all but his left eyelid. Schnabel, himself not of Frenchmen, learned to speak the language so that his film might have the authenticity of being a believable adaptation. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly has been widely acknowledged for its unique direction and faithful screenplay: in addition to having appeared on numerous critics’ top ten lists, the film has also attained four Academy Award nominations, including a well-deserved nomination for Schnabel as Best Director.


The second French film last year to traverse the Atlantic and reach American shores is Oliver Dahan’s biopic, La Vie en Rose. Unflinching in its approach, Dahan’s film depicts the life of chanteuse Édith Piaf from the cradle to the grave, rendering the world of the French songbird all too vividly. The film is immeasurably built upon the brilliant performance of Marion Cotillard as Piaf: she does not condescend to the flawed character she plays, but rather immerses herself into the role that justly won her an Academy Award for Best Actress. To help clarify the scope of this matter, the last actress to win for a performance in a foreign film is Sofia Loren, some forty-seven years ago.

Although the world of foreign film is not strictly limited to these French paradigms, it should be noted how they attest to an increasing trend in Hollywood. This is not to say, of course, that America has not welcomed foreign films into its movie theaters in the past – if you question me on this, simply check out the box office receipts for Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. This new wave of well-received, critically lauded films merely appears to indicate that America has finally begun to consistently view foreign films as being on par with native productions, if for no other reason than because they are of such high caliber.

The time has come for us view the cinematic work of other countries with open eyes, to embrace films the likes of House of Flying Daggers, Maria Full of Grace, and Pan’s Labyrinth – even if it does mean that we’ll have to read subtitles the next time we go out to the local movie theater.

The Critical Divide

Ah, the division between common folk and that exulted level of the Hollywood critic – the wasteland separating mere mortals and those who seemingly view cinema through kaleidoscope lenses. The role of the movie critic, both venerated and deprecated, has manifested itself into an issue of great importance for the movie industry – there always exists that hope that warm critical reception will propel fledgling, independent films to the forefront of awards races, injecting art-house cinema into mainstream American culture while garnering respectable box-office receipts. Ah, how the critic in all his wisdom can respect “respectable” films. Riddle me then, why is it then that blockbuster sensations so frequently warrant lackluster reviews?

Indeed, how often it is that the work of a critically praised film fails to muster the approval of the heaving, unbridled movie-going masses – is there something that we fail to grasp, some level of pretension that envelops the movie-going elite that will remain unbeknownst to those of us who just view films for pleasure and not for a living? However, I digress. It is evident to most people that critics view films differently – there exists a certain level of film-making that such persons will condone. Films can’t simply exist for the purpose of entertaining. Although I am torn on the matter – I can, contrary to popular belief, appreciate a good action film while fully understanding that no real revolution in art of film-making is being made – part of me is innately drawn to films that can deeply evoke some feeling, somehow, within me: the degree of realism captured by Cassavettes’ A Woman Under the Influence; the vibrancy and unabashedness of Lee’s Do The Right Thing; that shot-of-adrenaline-ravaging-my-veins quality exuded by Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.

It is a very delicate matter to approach because it is simply so subjective: movie taste is completely dependent upon an individual’s personal preference, and I in no way will attempt to tell you to heed the advise of critics if it is not in your nature to do so. Likewise, disregarding the words of those who consistently view films and are exposed to a plethora of cinematic options would be unwise if you repeatedly find yourself satisfied by their recommendations. It boils down to a matter of opinion – this “critical divide” is alleviated only if you chose to do so. It is in my power, however, to advise you that the world of the movies is not simply restricted to films with shiny autos and drug-trafficking gangsters, or, conversely, to the esoteric concepts of independent films and the English accents of period pieces.

The celluloid reality encompassed within 35 mm film-strips is far too rich an experience to deprive yourself of: allow yourself to be open to what you may consider an unconventional movie-going experience. Listen to critics, but only to an extent. Watch anything that appeals to you and sample cinema that may be out of your normal comfort-zone. Expose yourself to the comedic fare of Knocked Up, but then temper it with the poetic eloquence of American Beauty. Enjoy the rush of watching an intelligent thriller like The Usual Suspects, and then unwind with the romantic surrealism of Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Lose yourself in the futurist pseudo-utopianism of Minority Report, and then travel back to Nazi-occupied Morocco with the eternal Casablanca. It really doesn’t matter.

I’m aware that I haven’t resolved anything for you, and that’s just fine. Critics will exist regardless of whatever I spew onto this page – it’s just a matter of making peace with what they represent that I’ve come to aide you with. Don’t completely disregard what they have to say, just look with a discerning eye and understand that an unavoidable bias will always exist. Be willing to make concessions within yourself by enabling yourself with an arsenal of good judgement and common sense. Conquer the “critical divide” – go visit your local Blockbuster.