MI:4 and Why I Still Believe the Auteur Theory

There's a brilliant quote from the film Nine about directing:

Directing a movie is a very overrated job, we all know it. You just have to say yes or no. What else do you do? Nothing. “Maestro, should this be red?” Yes. “Green?” No. “More extras?” Yes. “More lipstick?” No. Yes. No. Yes. No. That’s directing.

But that's not really what I want to talk about. 

When I was a young, dumb film student, my professors taught me the meaning of the Auteur theory and told me outright that it was evil. Not that the theory itself was evil, but believing it sure was.

In a nutshell, the auteur theory of film says that the director is the ultimate author of the film, that they have the most creative control over the final look and feel of the film, and that they are more responsible for its success and failure than the screenwriter, cinematographer, editor, or any other contributor on the film. See, in creating a book or painting, it is easy to decide who the "author" of that creative work is - it's the person who did all of the work. J.K. Rowling is the author of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone because there is no part of that story that didn't come from her. 

But movies have hundreds, and sometimes thousands, of people who contribute to the final product of the film. It takes an army to make a movie. Peter Jackson is incapable of constructing and animating a CG model of King Kong; James Cameron didn't utter the timeless line "I'll be back."; and Frank Miller had never even made a movie before he directed his first big-budget picture. How, if these people are not the major content contributors, could I possibly call them the author of the film's final form, creative concept, success, or even failure? 

I'm getting ahead of myself - let's do a story first. 

Over the shoulder shot

One of the first short commercials I ever directed featured two people talking to each other. I wanted to do an over-the-shoulder shot for each person - because I love frame within a frame shots. (Sidenote: if you love frame within a frame cinematography too, check out Stranger than Fiction - that movie's gorgeous). I talked with the DP, and he said that with the location we had chosen, he tested several camera setups and didn't think it was possible it get a well-composed over-the-shoulder shot. It just didn't work at the location and with the lighting setup we had already selected. So we did a different type of shot and moved on. 

Then, a few weeks later I was assisting on the set of a student short film, run by one of the most talented directors I've met. Lo and behold, he wanted an over-the-shoulder shot too, and his DP told him the same thing - it just wasn't practical for their setup. But that wasn't good enough for him, the shot had to happen. Setbacks are temporary, film is forever. So, they began to modify their setup. Finally, they got the shot he wanted by putting the chair of the actor whose back was to the camera  on top apple crates. Sure, his feet were 2.5 feet off the ground and he looked completely ridiculous to everyone in the room, but the shot looked great. 

My professors told me the auteur theory was evil because it engendered a false idea that the director is king of the castle, and everyone else mere peons that exact his will - and that's just not true. In reality, the exact work that a director does do varies from film to film, but one thing remains the same: Every single frame of every shot has been approved by the director as what he or she intended it to be. Directors are not in charge of making everything within a film, but instead are the filter through which all content must pass - and they exact their creative will by only accepting items that forward the creative agenda of the piece. They are the single interpreter between script and the final reality of the finished film. Thus, the same script given to different directors would produce vastly different films. It is their job to make sure the final film is what they want it to be - and we trust them to produce films that we as an audience will enjoy. 

Ridley Scott puts it a little differently, but I think he means the same thing. 

And it's important to remember that this approach does not devalue the work of the rest of the filmmakers on any project. Adam Savage, of Mythbusters once cheerfully lamented that his tenure at ILM only allowed him the opportunity to work on movies that were ultimately not great. But he still got work, because his part in those films was amazing and very respected in the film community. For each, the special effects were great, but the entire film was unsuccessful - and we blame that aggregate success or failure on the director because it's his or her job to take responsibility for the film as a whole. 

MI:4

Sorry, this post has gone way too long without getting to the movie I wanted to talk about and I promise less than half the stuff I wanted to cover made it in. 

The Mission Impossible series is not only a great collection of films (with one less successful entry), but also a perfect illustration of my point - and Ghost Protocol is my favorite of the set. You see, each of the 4 MI movies so far has had a different director, and they are all completely different movies. There have been screenwriters that have carried over, actors (obviously), music, editing, etc., but the directors were different every time.

I would really love, at this point, to go through each of the Mission Impossible films and talk about the directorial styles of the different directors for each and how you can see them evident in the final product - but I just don't have the time or the space. The MI's have had some impressive names take the wheel, and you can see in the look, feel, and overall tone differences between each of the films. The difference between De Palma's tone and Woo's are almost night and day, while Abrams' Mission Impossible feels like the original, but still made some subtle (and some not so subtle) changes. But I'm not here to talk about them, I'm here to talk about Ghost Protocol and Brad Bird. 

So what about MI:4 made it so successful in my mind? It was two major firsts for Brad Bird: directing his first live action movie and directing his first film that wasn't a comedy. If you look at Bird's track record before MI:4 you can tell he is a master at animated comedy - with tenure on The Simpsons, and as one of what I call Pixar's 'core directors'. He seems (to me at least) like the least likely pick for a convoluted action thriller, but that's exactly what's brilliant about it. Ghost Protocol shines as a thriller because Bird uses his comedic instincts to inject humor into specific moments, and change the tone to allow the audience to feel great contrast between the emotional highs and lows of each moment. He uses the same tactics to build tension and release it by pumping up the drama, and then allowing the audience to exhale with a comedic payoff.

Take for example the scene where Ethan is climbing the skyscraper. Sure, it's an amazing stunt; sure, we can see that it's actually Tom Cruise doing it; sure the scene builds tension throughout in both comedic and non-comedic payoffs - BUT THEN at the end when Ethan jumps into the open window he misses, and smashes his head on the top. It's pretty hilarious. But more than that - it is an emotional button, a comedic payoff after a dramatic buildup that lets the audience take a moment of rest before we dive back into the tension of the following scene. And it's a self-aware, comedic moment that I believe very few (if any) directors would make in that scenario. 

As a story decision, it's unprecedented in a Mission Impossible film. It was the first that didn't take itself too seriously; it's even the first to recognize how ridiculous it is that the secret organization is called the Impossible Mission Foundation. And it's odd how few directors recognize that adding comedy actually enhances the thrilling and dramatic moments of the film. Brad Bird makes this and other comedic choices (the scene in the hallway with the projector "wall" is one of my favorites of all time) that none of the previous MI directors would have ever had the guts to try. 

On an emotional level, close calls are more relieving when we can crack a joke afterwards; major plot twists are more surprising when we thought we were entering comic relief; and painful realizations are more painful when we all thought we were just having a good time; and the richness of each moment is enhanced by adding a smoothie of multiple emotions and expectations. 

Ghost Protocol takes a narrative and tonal departure from the Mission Impossible norm. One through three are all dark action thrillers, with high-stakes spy vs. spy plot lines that all feature major twists, but only 4 makes comedy, the absurdity of the circumstances, and the personal failings of the main characters central tenets of the story. So why do I put this major change on Bird? Because all of the movies he had done previously featured the same tenets. It is such a welcome breath of fresh air in the Mission Impossible series, and only serves to make the impressive stunts, cinematography, and narrative tension even more interesting to the audience.

In the end, I understand that it takes a lot of people to make a movie - and so does the entire filmmaking community. And I think it's silly to glorify the director's chair as the throne of the industry and the art form. However, I still believe the auteur theory because that is the job and the trust that belong to the director's title. He or she does not need to be the best artist on set, or even have any experience making films before, but instead is in charge of the final product. Kind of like a caretaker for the entire film, a director makes sure that at the end of the day it is the best representation of all the piece could be.

That's why I still believe the auteur theory. 

Superman Returns and The Difference Between Theme and Messages in Subtext

Awhile ago I talked about my love for subtext, and how narratives of all types use it to convey messages about the world outside the limited scope of the immediate story. But, not all films want to say something definite about the larger topics they touch on - in fact that is one of the beauties of narrative as an instructional tool: it need not make a clear statement about something. Filmmakers often talk of their stories as an "Exploration of <insert broad topic here>." By meandering through a topic, and connecting the audience emotionally to the many realities that inspire it - without focusing the entire effort of the film on a single message - many films feel more emotionally rich, and help the audience connect to the story because the story arouses real feelings that we have felt toward the universal theme that is being dealt with.

Yep, I said it, I call these themes. Themes are a type of subtext in a film, but point to something more vague than the underlying messages I've discussed before. Themes are the most common type of subtext, because they evoke an emotional or intellectual response based on the audience's experience with that the realities (outside the film) that theme represents (within the film), rather than using the story to make a clear statement about life. Themes can include things like loss, betrayal, unexpected joy, willpower. They are real life realities briefly represented in film narrative and form.

Let's quickly compare and contrast two children's films exploring the same real world issues to distinguish between themes and messages in subtext.

Message: Fern Gully
Fern Gully wants us as an audience to care about the environment. The villain is made of pollution, the heroes are protecting trees. At the end of the film, during the emotional climax where the tree grows, the narrative uses the emotion we experience because of the drama surrounding the characters to connect us to the message that the earth is the source of good and healing, and humans just destroy. No matter how you feel about the situation of Earth's rainforest, if you care about the story you feel the emotion.

Theme: Wall-E
Contrastingly, Wall-E paints a realistic picture of a world "destroyed" by pollution, and clearly imagines the damaging consequences of humans living a limitlessly hedonistic life on a deluxe cruise ship for generations. These are details that are sometimes necessary and sometimes unnecessary to the main story, but have nothing to do with the main message. Instead, they are a theme that the movie touches on by trying to paint a situation true to reality - and then we fill in the emotional part by our reaction to it. (In fact, so true to reality were these themes that it turns out a lot of people missed the main message altogether.)

The difference is that a theme is only meaningful to us if what we see on screen matches our previous experiences and current perceptions with that theme. Themes present a fictional reality that is true to aspects of reality we experience and we fill in the emotion. Messages use the plot, characters, actions, and consequences make a definite point by directing our attention, thought, and emotion toward a single statement.

Which brings us back (as most things do) to superhero movies, and specifically Superman Returns.

After his very first appearance on screen, Superman saves lives in a way only he could. What other superhero could face this situation without any casualties or additional property damage?

Hero and superhero narratives have always been about themes and subtexts - they are a way for man and woman to marvel at the things that they have, can, and will accomplish. As far as I can tell, central to every superhero story is the idea that men and women somehow have more power within themselves to do good than the world or outside forces have to put them down. These stories are born of real-life heroes that amaze us - single mothers raising 8 kids, men lifting tractors off of trapped loved ones, or teachers shielding children from falling debris with their bodies - and then we take those stories and we stretch them, retell them, and reinvent ways to feel those feelings. But at the core of every superhero film is this theme that they(heroes) somehow find a way, and have within themselves the ability, to do good in this world - even when it feels impossible. That's why I'm fine when superheroes do things their powers say they shouldn't be able to - that's just the story being true to its central theme.

But its the themes outside the central theme that create the great variance in superhero characters. And because we go into a superhero movie having already bought into the central theme, we tend to focus on the secondary themes more - because they provide more of the detail and emotional difference between superhero films.

 I could write a full post about each superhero individually, but for us the big question is, what are the themes behind Superman as a character? What makes him the kind of hero that he is, and a different hero than Batman or the X-Men?

Superman Returns
If you were here, we could discuss what Superman is really all about, and what connects him to reality and makes us interested in him as an audience - but you're not here so I just need to tell you what I think, and hope you agree.

Just sayin' I'm not the only one who noticed.

I think Superman is about perfection. He is the embodiment of all that can be accomplished by a man without mortal weakness. Like Beowulf before him, Superman is an archetype of the perfect man according to the ideals of the age in which he was conceived - able to do anything except lie and unwilling to accept the evils of the world around him. So incorruptible is he that we can't even believe he is human; his story requires he be made of better stuff than we so that we can suspend our disbelief that such a hero could exist. It's also the source of the countless Superman and Christ parallels that have been pointed out before.

These days, it has also resulted in a new theme - alienation and loneliness. It used to not exist in Superman movies and comics, but todays society finds it hard to believe that kind of man can exist among us without sticking out like a Powerpuff girl at a goth convention. So, now we see him as an alien outsider keeping to a moral code we can't access or understand. But he used to be the ideal, the ideal man.

Superman Returns taps back into that original ideal version of Superman, rather than changing his morality or the appropriate theme to match other modern movies. Even the old Superman films sometimes did that. At this point I should probably let you know that Returns is my favorite of all the Superman movies. And, at the end of the day, the thing that I like the most about it is the thematic elements. Sure, it has some major flaws, but its greatest strength is that it recognizes the theme of perfection in Superman stories and makes a strong decision to stick to it. Where other Superman films ignore or intentionally depart from this theme, Returns doubles down on it - making every detail in the story, form, and production conform to that theme. Curious what I mean? Here are some thematic elements that maybe you missed:

• Returns was supposed to be a remake, but Bryan Singer was a huge fan of the original and didn't want to depart from that aesthetic and narrative approach, so he convinced the studio to make a sequel. "Updates" to the character were then removed from the project or minimized.
• Superman's blue is the most pumped up color in every frame and every shot in the movie. The colorist isolated it and made sure it was the purest and brightest color on screen at any given time - bluer than both the sea and the sky. 
• Brandon Routh has blue eyes, but not blue enough. He still had to wear contacts so that Superman would have perfectly clear, brilliantly blue eyes in every shot.
• While he is bested several times because of his goodness and naivety, Superman never makes a real mistake in this film. 
• Superman's character does not change in any way in this film, it is not part of his arch. Instead, the rest of the world needs to change in order to accept him. 
• There are no innocent injuries or casualties in this film. 
• Even though Lois is in love with and engaged to a wonderful man who is helping her raise her child, she never really gets over "you-know-who."
• Superman is repeatedly bested because of his good intentions and need to save/protect people.
• Superman willingly chooses to die rather than let evil continue to be. 

Had enough? If you haven't noticed yet, I have a high tolerance for heavy-handedness, and this movie has it in spades. But that's exactly why I love it - it bets the entire house on a theme that was passe even back when it was released, and it makes for a better superhero movie that way. By embracing the thematic elements that differentiate it as a franchise, rather than trying to turn everything into Batman, it is elevated to a point where Superman is a real character with real meaning.  

I wish more superhero films did this - but instead most of them ignore the thematic elements that made the characters interesting in the first place and chase after popular film trends/tropes of the time. I guess at least that way they can keep rebooting them for the rest of eternity; this way ensures no one will be making any timeless classics any time soon...

Disclaimer: I should also add, before I go too much further that my true favorite Superman movie has not been made - and I haven't been 100% happy with any of them. But Returns is my favorite because it makes some bold and unpopular decisions to forward the character and the story as they were originally conceived and written. Though I'm really not a fan of that little boy...

P.S. Also, don't forget Returns is the only Superman movie to evoke the imagery of Superman with the world on his shoulders. 

Pacific Rim and Learning to Appreciate Movies

I've accepted the fact that I can't convince a lot of people to adore movies the way I do. That's fine, let everyone have their own opinion of things. But I also spend a lot of time trying to convince people to accept movies on their own terms. A LOT. Whether it be trying to get people to watch Asian movies without expecting them to be like American, or just persuading people to give something a chance, I keep trying to get people to look at movies and appreciate them for what they are, what they are trying to do, and what they do well, without imposing a set of rules or expectations on them. And then, right after these conversations, someone will end up drilling me about how I could possibly dislike movies that are so generally popular.

Well, they are both symptoms of the same issue, and that issue is what I'd like to address: How to Appreciate Movies.

The Secret Ingredient
The funny thing is, I don't have a whole lot to say on the topic. There is one simple practice that everyone can do to appreciate film more. All you have to do is always assume that everything a film does is on purpose, and cost a whole lot of time and money to do. If you do that, this always begs the question: "Well, why did they do THAT then?" And that is the exact question you need to be asking yourself. That question will help you appreciate every single film on the planet on it's own terms - because you will be asking it from a place of inherent respect (because you assume it was on purpose), seeking understanding - instead of demanding a movie to justify its shortcomings when you have already decided it is terrible.

Pacific Rim

Let's give an example, just to make sure I'm being clear. A film I often talk with others about and am sad to find they don't appreciate the same way I do is Pacific Rim. So let's go through it real quick.

Why people don't like it:
Invariably, if you find someone who just LOVES Pacific Rim, you will find that they are fans of old Godzilla movies. Seriously. People who like Kaiju films, love Pacific Rim. That tells us something right there. It seems there is a barrier that people aren't getting over because they expect it to match other action or suspense genres, rather than accepting it within the genre it belongs to.

Pacific Rim is a Kaiju film - but people expected it to be a vanilla blockbuster action flick. So how can we appreciate it on it's own terms, within the (admittedly foreign) genre that it exists?

Assume everything was on purpose and ask why.

Pacific Rim is cheesy, and it operates on a scale of craziness and frivolous fun that a lot of people have a difficult time getting into. If we put realism on a scale, Pacific Rim (and Kaiju films in general) would be lounging in the deep end of insanity.

How we can appreciate it:
I love old Japanese Godzilla movies. My favorite featured Godzilla fighting a Monster that towered over the tallest skyscraper, had knives for hands, had a chainsaw apparatus on his belly (he wasn't even a robot, it was just there somehow), and was summoned by people you start the movie believing are aliens, but it turns out at the end they are just giant cockroaches come back from the future.

I promise I did not make any of that up.

Kaiju films promise a good time had by all, but require in return that you as the audience let them do with the story as they will. They openly ask you to actively and willingly suspend your disbelief, rather than seeking to prove themselves to the audience and trick them into believing that this universe actually exists by trying to ground it in something you can accept.

Pacific Rim does this blatantly in the first five minutes. In the opening sequence, Del Toro lays out the premise - giant monsters, giant robots, why they exist and what they do - and if you can just accept that opening sequence and buy into that one premise, the film is phenomenal. The film tells you (the audience) the rules it is going to play by, and then it does. It does not try to answer to the demands or expectations of the audience, nor is it ruled by current trends of story or cinematography. It is a Kaiju movie, and it lays that on the table for you to accept from the very beginning.

That was on purpose, and it cost a lot of time and money. Why would they do that?

Because Del Toro knows he is selling a Japanese genre to an American audience. He lays it out because he knows this is the ticket for admission - accept this premise and you'll love the film. If you went into that movie expecting Transformers, the fact that you hated it is your own fault because the movie told you upfront it was not like Transformers. If you can appreciate the movie on its own terms, you will love it.

Pacific Rim is now reigning king among Kaiju films - a remarkable feat from a Mexican guy who had to learn about and outdo 50 years of Japanese film tradition.

Anyway, this post isn't about Pacific Rim, or even to convince you to love it, I just thought it was a good example on appreciating films on their own terms, and I wanted to share my thoughts on how people can appreciate films more. Assume everything was on purpose, even when you hated something. Heck, especially when you hated something. No filmmaker wants to spend $200 million and 2 years making something you hate. So, take a moment and pretend they did it on purpose, and then ask why.

The Hipster Movie List

What is 'The List?'

Awhile ago I started a list of movies, which I now refer to as the Hipster Movie List. I'm not a hipster, in fact I'm quite the opposite - but when I started to fall in love with film, I became a film hipster.

What in the world do I mean by hipster? Well,  at their core hipsters are anti-culturals. They are people who intentionally reject the norm and go against it - and usually are outspoken enough about it to piss off the people around them.

Example:

Normal person: Have you heard the new Katy Perry Album?

Hipster: I don't listen to mainstream music. It's just a bunch of soul-sucking, dumbed-down, and recycled sex fantasies set to a catchy beat so that they can squeeze a few more dollars out of stupid people without the sense to know better. 

Normal person: I think I'm going to go somewhere less...douchey.

Ironically, if you're looking at this situation with the right lens, you may realize we've all got a little hipster in us.

I became a film hipster when I decided I liked films, and I liked my films intelligent and well-executed. So much so that I began to refuse to watch things that didn't meet that bar. Then, on top of that, when movies were intelligent and well-executed, I would fawn over them and watch them again and again - dissecting every detail.

It made me quite insufferable at parties.

You see, the problem with being a film hipster is that EVERYONE likes movies. I learned early that if I was going to turn preachy every time the topic of movies came up, I would lose a lot of friends (I mean... more than I already had). So, I created the Hipster Movie List as an outlet for how I felt, and started shutting my mouth when people raved about how "The latest Transformers is actually really good!"

Okay, So What is The List?

The Hipster Movie List is a list of movies that are brilliantly executed - enough to make them a cut above other movies. Some of them were successful in the box office, and some weren't - but all of them are amazing. And that's not all. They have to be both amazing and underrated. This is where the hipster part comes in. Hipster movies are movies that had major portions of their executions go unnoticed or unrecognized by mainstream audiences. These are movies that I wish I could shake the modern everyday viewer until they realized they are gems, and that  this kind of film is neither common, nor easy. 

However, that's not to say that all of these movies aren't popular. The Dark Knight is on the list, and that film made over a billion dollars. But of all the people that loved it, they didn't recognize the flawless use of metaphor and the first perfect realization and writing of the Joker character in any film or television adaptation I've ever seen (and I've seen a lot). The Avengers, which also brought in over a billion dollars, however is not on the list because as amazing as the film was, I didn't think there was some part of it that was not being openly appreciated by the public. Everyone got how great it was, so there was no need for me to record it as an underappreciated film.

In a nutshell, it's a list of movies that everyone knows are good (or they should), but people don't seem to know just how good they are - and how rare a quality that is in cinema. 

So, having said all that (much more than I originally intended), I now give you The Hipster Movie List - a list of movies since the dawn of film history, that are both amazing and underappreciated in modern discussion:

See the Hipster Movie List

Subtext, Meta-Film Experiences, and Henry Poole is Here

This last week I revisited Henry Poole is Here, which for me was a seminal film in my personal road
as an artist, filmmaker, and person.

Let me just take a moment and let you know that I don't use that word (seminal) lightly.

Early on as a teenager and film student I found subtext in film and theater and fell in love. So enamored was I with this one aspect of works of education and entertainment that I began to eschew and ignore all other positive aspects of the medium.

Ultimately, it was how I became a film hipster.

I'll talk in a minute about what subtext is, but sufficeth to say that I was trying to find the secret or hidden messages within all of the films and plays I was seeing. I explained to friends that they thought Les Miserables (they play) was good, but they didn't understand how good it was; I clearly remember having a friend tell me they loved Phantom of the Opera (the movie had just come out) and I retorted, "You don't even know what it is really about." Then, as a capstone project in being a douche, I applied to the BYU film program by creating a video example of what I was capable of creating by submitting a convoluted and meta film that was so inaccessible to anyone who wasn't involved in its conception that there was no way the judges could have thought anything but that I was either crazy, incompetent, or both. My rhetoric was so wrapped in meta-jokes that it was completely incomprehensible - and everyone who saw it thought so. But of course, I just told myself they were uncultured and surely the film professors would understand my deep art.

They didn't. It was the Brazil of student short films.

It was a crazy time for me, as an artist and a person. Finally, because of movies like Henry Poole, I realized that I cared more about helping people than I did about film as an art form, and I gave up my dream of becoming a bigtime (and socially influential) director. I realized that I was trying to change the world for the better through my art, and there were people who just skipped the art and changed the world for the better - and I could easily break into that world and support my family, which is kind of difficult to do when you are trying to become a bigtime director. It was easier, and less selfish. That was seven years ago, and it's been about that long since I last watched Henry Poole.

Enough of about why Henry Poole (and movies like it) matters to me, let's get to the movie analysis and how to analyze. Real quick, let's get on the same page about movie subtext and meta-film experience analysis.

Subtext
Analyzing subtext in a film is usually an exercise in boiling various aspects of a film (form, writing, narrative content, etc.) down to its most simple expression and looking for patterns. That sounds complex, but it's not. Here are some examples:

• There are only two camera angles used throughout Rear Window, this matches the main character who is on bedrest and confined to his room, and is used to make you feel detached, distrust what you see, and feel his claustrophobia and feeling of powerlessness. 
• Every time the evil mother addresses Rapunzel warmly in Tangled, she calls her a "flower" or touches her hair. Every time Flynn addresses her warmly he brushes her hair away from her face and looks her in the eye. This shows which qualities of hers the two characters really care about. 

It's easy. The biggest thing to watch out for (and the practice I don't agree with) is trying to insert meaning in places where it wasn't intended. Like saying that Star Wars has an anarchist agenda because the main characters are trying to bring down the prominent government in the story. That sounds like a stretch...

Meta-Film Experiences

Meta-Film experiences understand that you are watching a film rather than actually living the experience you are viewing. They require you to break your suspension of disbelief and analyze what you are seeing from an emotional distance. Modern comedy does this A LOT, because it targets audiences that have been watching comedy their entire life, and so one way to get to them in an original way is for the comedy to play completely deadpan, dramatic, or even horrific. This only becomes funny when the audience realizes they are watching a comedy and it is completely absurd to be seeing this type of behavior within a comedy - and all of a sudden it's hilarious. 

Henry Poole, despite being labeled a comedy, is NOT hilarious

Henry Poole is Here

The reason I wanted to be clear on subtext and meta-film analysis before talking about Henry Poole is because it really is a terrible movie on the surface, and beautiful in the subtext. And the reason I wanted to talk about why it is important to me as a person is because relating it to yourself and empathizing seems to be the only way to really enjoy it, and when I did so I began to think about larger issues that would ultimately change my life. This movie didn't change my life, but it had the guts to grapple with issues that really matter to me. 

Henry Poole is interesting as a movie is because Henry is not a person in the story, he is an embodiment of an emotional state that humans get into - he hates the world because it is unfair. Dawn is an embodiment of empathetic pain, Milly is childhood trauma, and Patience is faithful and patient, but still broken. All of them are healed by a wall miracle in Henry's backyard. But here's where Henry Poole says something less common in films touching on religion and faith. Henry is healed, even though he doesn't believe. 

The common religious or faith trope for movies is the "Just Believe" platitude, which seems to say that it doesn't matter what you believe in, it is only the degree to which you believe in something that affects how much it can change (or in this case, heal) you. Check out the trailer for Little Boy to see exactly what I mean.  Contrastingly, Henry Poole shows three characters that believe, and are healed when they touch the wall, but Henry goes out of his way to not touch the wall. We are specifically shown 4 different close ups of his hands close to the wall, but he doesn't touch it. 

Then, he does touch it. He smashes it with an ax/sledgehammer, and just as he is about to pass out, he leans back and we get an extreme close up of him grabbing the wall to maintain balance. Then, within a couple of minutes we learn he is healed. We have been told the entire film that he has the worst ailment of anyone there, it is visibly apparent to everyone, and he is healed when he touches the wall without believing that touching the wall will help him. 

This movie mattered to me when I first saw it, and even moreso on this most recent viewing, because when I saw it I related every character, and the emotional state they represented, to me and I empathized strongly with how they feel. I love this movie because it speaks about things that are important to me. 

It's easy in life to say, "Just Believe." But my life has followed more closely the topics discussed in Henry Poole, I have been healed when I believed in something more than myself; I have witnessed those who are close to me healed and been healed by the experience (as do Dawn and Milly); and I have reacted out of anger or hatred and found myself running into spiritual realities that are bigger than I am; and I have received healing, even when I didn't deserve it. 

Believe me when I say, I can understand if you don't like Henry Poole is Here, but I love it because when I turn it on, the story it's telling falls away and I am left considering and grappling with the emotions of trying (and sometimes failing) to believe in a higher power. It's not the movie that I love, it is the experiences that it opens up to me.