Ally Gatey

There aren’t a lot of movies that I hate.  There are movies that weren’t really my thing or that I thought were too problematic to be enjoyed or that disappointed me but films I actually hate are few and far between.  At the moment I can really only think of two, Splice (Natali, 2009), which I had to watch in a horror film class during my undergrad.  A movie that made me so deeply uncomfortable that it still haunts me to this day.  The other film, the film I’m going to be discussing today, in this blog post, is The Last Airbender (Shamalan, 2010).

Now, I didn’t really grow up watching the show as my family didn’t have cable and the only TV we really watched was at my grandparent’s house but, I did discover the show in about 2010 when I was 13.  I loved it almost immediately and I still believe that it’s one of the best-structured stories of all time, with barely an episode wasted.  By the time I was watching the show I was aware that the film existed and that everyone hated it.  However, I had a philosophy about media when I was younger that I still stand by today.  It’s hypocritical to hate on something that you haven’t seen.  If you want to be critical about a piece of media then you should experience it for yourself instead of jumping on a hate bandwagon when you really don’t know anything about what you’re hating on.

So I did watch the movie and let me tell you, it’s not good.  I do not know what possessed M. Night Shamalan to believe that he could compress a little over seven and a half hours of TV into a single two-hour movie but he sure did try.  In doing so, any character development, foreshadowing or humour that was present in the original show was cut so they could cram in as much plot as possible.  Not only does this betray the spirit of the original show, but it makes for a bad movie.

The script is poorly written and clunky, designed to fit in as much plot development as physically possible without actually have to show any of the things the characters actually go through.  The acting is bland and emotionless, the only people who get a pass are Dev Patel and Shaun Toub, playing Zuko and Iroh respectively.  I don’t even blame the actors for this really.  Noah Ringer, who was cast to play Aang, was only twelve years old when the film was released, he had no formal acting training, this was the first film he was ever in and he only had a month to prepare for the role.  Add to that the blandest script I’ve ever seen and you can’t really expect to make anything that good.  The cinematography is really strange too.  Lots of extreme close-up shots of characters not emoting at all and long shots for action sequences made to show off the martial arts but in reality they just slow the whole film down.

This post is getting kind of long and I haven’t even touched on the fact that all of the “bad guys” are East Indian, which, yikes, and the only characters from the Water Tribe with speaking parts are white, despite the fact that the Water Tribe was originally modeled after Inuit people, also yikes.

Also, they won’t stop mispronouncing things.  You’re adapting a TV show, not a book, all the pronunciations are, like, right there.

In conclusion, I hate The Last Airbender.  I hate it because M. Night Shamalan took an incredible story and gutted it for profit.  I hate it because its bad to look at and hard to watch.  I hate it because the idea of seeing a story you love play out on the big screen in live action is intoxicating and it draws people in.  A concept that has fundementally changed to film landscape now a days.  All you have to do is look at what Disney is putting out these days.

The good thing is the original show still exists, unaltered and untarnished by anything that came after and holds up incredibly well even fifteen years later.

Sometimes I wonder if there is a place for film analysis in a high school setting.  What is the difference between analyzing a film and analyzing a book?  Surely, they are building up the same critical thinking and observation skills?  Surely, they both have the ability to help expand and improve vocabulary?  There are a good deal of films that can be seen as mindless fluff but there are also a lot of books that fall in that category as well.  Can students get the same or similar things out of analyzing film as they do out of reading books?

When I was a kid, I was an incredibly voracious reader.  I could get through something like a book a week and I spent a lot of my free time reading.  As I got older, it became harder and harder to justify spending the time sitting down with a book for fun.  Then, when I got to University, my recreational reading was almost entirely replaced by academic reading.  That or watching a movie.  It felt nice to be able to sit back and allow a story to be told in front of my eyes.  It felt similar to having a book read to me when I was little.  My dad used to read me and my sister the Series of Unfortunate Events books by Lemony Snickett.

Sitting back and watching these films was not a passive experience, and neither is being read to.  I think ultimately, the two different mediums build similar skills in different ways.  I don’t think that one is inherently better or worse than the other and I think that, in the future, I’d like to use film as more than just a time filler in my classroom.  Perhaps it would be interesting to have students critically compare books to their film counterparts, thinking about how the medium of film requires that changes be made, even if that can be upsetting to many book fans and if sometimes it’s not done in the deftest way.

I believe that analyzing film can help develop critical analysis skills in the same way that literary analysis can and could perhaps engage students who aren’t as interested in reading as some others might be.  I do really hope to be able to involve film analysis in my classroom in the future and allow students to consider the possibilities of critical film analysis.

There are so many elements in filmmaking that need to come together to tell the story.  The script has to be solid, of course, but so does the acting, the costumes, the set design, the special effects, the score, and of course the cinematography.  I’ve talked a little about the impact that music can have on a film as well as how much of an impact the gaze of the camera can have on what we remember about a film but today, I’d like to focus on colour.

There is this basic storytelling idea that different colours represent different things.  Red equals danger, blue equals calm, black is evil, white is good and so on and so forth.  However, the reality is a lot more complicated than that.

It is true that colours can be used to evoke a single emotion from an audience but it can be used just as powerfully to represent a character and a character’s emotional state.  For example, in the Disney film Treasure Planet (Musker, Clements, 2002) the main character, Jim Hawkins, starts the film wearing black and generally being an irresponsible scoundrel who does not understand his place in the world and longs for a father figure to show him his place in the world.  Throughout the film, as Jim gets closer to Silver, a secret pirate who may or may not be using Jim for personal gain, unbeknownst to him, he starts to gain that connection that father-son connection that he had been longing for and his clothes change from blacks to lighter browns.  then in the final scenes of the film, Jim has found his place, he has learned to take responsibility and he no longer has any longing for a father figure and he is shown wearing white, completing his journey from insecure misfit scoundrel to morally upstanding young man.

Some examples of colour use in film leave a lot more up for interpretation.  For example, in Star Wars (Lucas, 1977), there is the very obvious red is evil, blue is good connotation that comes from lightsaber colours.  Lukes lightsaber is blue and Darth Vader’s is red so they must represent good and evil.  But, Yoda and Obi-Wan have green lightsabers.  How does that fit in the binary red-blue understanding?

You could argue that Yoda and Obi-Wan are both Jedi masters and green is a step even further from red than blue is on the colour wheel so Yoda and Obi-Wan are even more good than Luke.  But, the laser from the Death Star is also green.  So, where does that leave us simple film analysts, simply trying our best to examine storytelling through colour?

Perhaps, within the Star Wars universe, green is simply a colour that is associated with power.  Or perhaps it just looks cool.  Mace Windu’s lightsaber is purple and it’s never explained in the universe of the films nor does anyone else wield one but, it does look cool as hell and sometimes that’s the only reason why colour is used.  Still, I think that it’s something that’s interesting to pay attention to and when you do, it may deepen your appreciation for a filmmaker’s hard work.

If you’re interested in a more in-depth look into the history of colour in film as well as a more in-depth analysis of the different ways it can be used I would highly recommend the video I have linked below!

In 1967, the French literary critic and theorist, Roland Barthes, came up with a theory that argued against the tradition of incorporating the intentions of a creator and their biographical context into the interpretations of their texts.  This encourages the consumer to divorce the literary work from its creator.  He posits “to give a text an author is to impose a limit on that text.”  Barthes calls this theory “La Mort de l’auteur”  or  “Death of the Author.”

I think that there are some important questions that we must ask ourselves when considering this theory such as whether it is possible to fully divorce a work of art from the person that created it, if it isn’t, should this line of thinking be ignored entirely and is this line of thinking actually helpful when it comes to analysis.  I also think that it is important to recognize that this theory of literary analysis is not interchangeable with the argument that many people use to allow them to consume media without having to think critically about the creator.

So often when I see Death of the Author raised as a potential theory of media analysis or criticism it is being used to defend works from those with who the analyst does not agree on a moral or personal level.  For example, Annie Hall is #31 on the AFI’s “100 years…100 movies” list which is a list of the top 100 American films of all time.  “Annie Hall” was directed by Woody Allen who, most would agree, sucks really bad.  While I do think that there is a discussion to be had about how we consume this kind of media, I don’t think that Death of the Author applies especially because, as a literary analysis tool, it is rarely ever possible.

When creating something, be it a book, a painting or a film, a creator’s perspective and implicit biases are embedded into the work.  Even if you know nothing more than their name, you often will come away from a reading or a viewing with some idea of who the author is, whether intentional or not.  When we talk about a great American novel like Moby Dick, we talk about the whale as a metaphor for the all-consuming nature of revenge and we are left wondering how the author came to this realization.  Did he have a personal white whale?  You can see the Christian allegory in the Chronicles of Narnia without knowing that C.S. Lewis’ religious beliefs.

However, when a creator makes the decision to be the masters of the universes that they have created, you run into a different set of problems.  In the case of someone like  J.K. Rowling, you get a situation where she is very forthcoming about events that happened outside of her book series and she’s more than willing to share it with her audience, despite the fact that sometimes we really wish that she would not.  However, this results in situations where you have an author claiming representation of minority groups without having to do any of the actual work that comes along with representing them.  J.K Rowling gets props for claiming that Dumbledore is gay after the release of the final book in the series and then denies multiple opportunities to actually codify that fact.  She is, after all, the only credited writer on the Fantastic Beasts films.

Before this becomes a rant about J.K. Rowling and her many, many flaws I’ll return to the initial point of this post.  Is it possible to fully divorce a work of art from its creator?  Not really.  The personal context of the creator will always affect the creation in the very same way that a viewer’s personal context will affect their analysis.  Now, should we simply succumb to the will of the author and treat their word as gospel?  Probably not.  A creator may have had a specific intention in mind when they were making their creation but to believe that we all approach media from the same angle is foolish.  Personal context affects analysis in the same way that personal context affects creation.  Who says that a scriptwriter or director or actor knows what happens to a character after the movie ends any better than the viewer does?

Lastly, is this line of thinking actually helpful when it comes to analysis?

I don’t know.

It’s certainly interesting.  There are certainly flaws with the theory, especially now when every author can have a very public life and can just tweet amendments to a book that was published 23 years ago.  It’s difficult not to look at a creator as some kind of authority about their creations but I think that it is important to take their opinions with a grain of salt.