Grizzly Man (2005)

Let me state this immediately, Grizzly Man is not for the faint of heart or thinking. It raises more questions than it answers, and most importantly; the ultimate demise of Timothy Treadwell is a tragic result of serious unfortunate events. All that said, Grizzly Man is one of best documentaries I have seen. No matter how disturbing the experience may be.

As Werner Herzog rightly states towards the ending of this masterful documentary, it is not the nature of the bears into which the viewer is gaining an insight, but rather the nature of humanity. By focusing on ‘grizzly man’ Timothy Treadwell, Herzog is able to pose questions of remarkable profundity in a simple and unassuming way. Was Treadwell right to abandon human society in search of meaning and contentment with his life? Was his apparent clarity a facade? What is so wonderful is that Herzog is satisfied with asking the questions and leaving them unanswered, inviting the viewer to engage themselves into the debate. 

As with all truly great documentaries, Herzog remains unobtrusive, and his opinions on his subject are never revealed. Although he admits a level of respect and admiration for the footage which Treadwell shoots, Herzog’s opinions on his lifestyle are left unsaid. In fact, the renowned director is incredibly sensitive in his handling of the subject, showing respect and compassion to both the eponymous bear-lover and his friends and family. Herzog’s narration is the highlight of this documentary, being seemingly peripheral to the action but heavily influencing the viewer’s perception of it.

Although ‘Grizzly Man’ is very much a character study of a paranoid yet inspired, unhinged yet seemingly content man, the nature footage is a key feature of the film. Some of the close-up footage of the bears is unlike anything I have seen before, with the Alaskan wilderness providing a stunning back-drop. The filmmakers have also been very canny in their editing of the footage, with it showing a seeming progression into madness from Treadwell – the loose ends of film after what he would have intended to be used being particularly insightful.

As both a nature documentary and as an example of introspective philosophy in film, ‘Grizzly Man’ is triumphant. Although the Grizzly Man’s footage alone would make for fascinating viewing, Herzog uses Timothy Treadwell’s quest as a springboard for questions that relate to everyone. Should we be scared by Treadwell’s lack of fear or should we respect it? Should we envy his apparent clarity, his having discovered meaning in life, or should be feel disconcerted by his paranoia and distrust for the human world? Herzog poses these questions without the grandeur that they may usually hold, and his simple yet poignant narration unobtrusively elevates this documentary to a status it would otherwise not have.

Alfred Hitchcock & Blocking

The “Nerdwriter” is one of my favorite YouTubers. He analyzes film in such great detail, his videos are hard to match. This time around he featured my favorite Filmmaker, Alfred Hitchcock. I thought it was worth a watch.

Hitchcock is one of those directors, like Stanley Kubrick, that you can never stop learning about. For everything you think you know, there’s something below the surface just as important, sometimes more so. The man really is a film school in and unto himself, and thanks to fine folks like the Nerdwriter, class is always in session.

The Revenant

Extremely bleak, exceedingly brutal & exceptionally cold-blooded, The Revenant is that savage beast that charges at you with relentless aggression, mauls you from head to toe without mercy, and leaves you utterly bruised, broken & helpless in the freezing cold of a harsh surrounding. Absolutely uncompromising with its content, unflinchingly raw in its depiction, and pushing its cast & crew to their limit, Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s latest is one of the most harrowing films ever made.

While traveling back to their village after an attack on their camp — the attack being of course filmed in grand, sweeping takes by Emmanuel Lubezki who will most likely make history at this year’s Academy Awards — Hugh Glass, an American fur-trapper and frontiersman in the early 1800s, wanders off from the rest of his men and finds himself alone in the woods when he’s brutally ripped to literal-shreds-of-flesh by a grizzly bear in one of the most abrasively horrifying man vs. nature scenes I’ve ever seen in film (best CGI ever?).

His fellow clansmen (including a surprisingly good Will Poulter, a decent Domhnall Gleeson, and a once again brilliant Tom Hardy) quickly find Glass and consider him dead, or if not completely dead then close enough. Their journey continues, but Glass’ ends right there.…Or that’s what was supposed to happen.

What follows is the several-week-long journey of revenge that this broken man takes to hopefully, one day, find his vengeance. And boy does he gets put through it all, let me tell you. (“The Revenant or: And You Thought YOU Had a Bad Week”)

The amount of filmmaking craft that’s present at every second of the film is enough for you to have a sensory overload. Visually you will be stunned at every second. There simply is no weak or lesser shot in the film. In the attack on their land towards the beginning of the film, the camera spins, soars, and creeps across the land in one glorious take as arrows smash into the trunks of trees and tear through the faces of men, all made that much more immersive by the incredible sound design. And as far as production design, it might as well have been filmed in the early 1800s. Stunning doesn’t even begin to describe it.

The development of these multi-faceted characters comes across as factually grounded and believable in the context of the story. Without fail or falter, “The Revenant” beautifully presents to us the complex world we live in today. Every being has a story, everyone has a good side and a bad side. There’s no plain evil just like there’s no plain good (this isn’t Marvel), and subconsciously as an audience, you root for everyone, which makes each bone that’s snapped, arrow shot and bullet fired, that much more painful to endure.

It’s a tough, draining, long ride. It’s a draining, long ride. It’s a long ride. It’s long. But never outdone by its length. I never felt a sense of wandering in the film. besides the brief flashbacks (which didn’t add much to me) everything felt it needed to be in the movie.

On an overall scale, The Revenant is another gritty, unrelenting & audacious piece of filmmaking from Alejandro G. Iñárritu that finds the director in sublime form and also happens to be his most direct & accessible film to date. Definitely not for the easily distressed, this thrilling story of survival & retribution is destined to upset many viewers with its graphic nature of storytelling but for those who can manage to stay on board, it will be rewarding on more levels than one. Marking another artistic high for both Iñárritu & Lubezki and catapulted to a greater level by DiCaprio’s extraordinary performance, The Revenant is the best film of 2015 i’ve seen and certainly one of the proudest in the careers of its cast & crew. Strongly recommended.

The Hateful Eight

I’ve been absent from the film review world as of late. So I figured after seeing QT’s latest this would be as good of a time as any to jump back in. I’m writing this less than 24 hours after viewing The Hateful Eight, so I’m sure my take will change somewhat..

The Hateful Eight is Tarantino’s love letter to himself as much as it is to the western genre. Rather than take a step back to exercise any restraint or nuance, he has blazed forward, continuing on a path escalating the seemingly impossible-to-match absurdities of his prior films. Filled with the usual colorful characters, tight dialogue, and  energetic pacing, the film also exhibits an uncanny self awareness.

Only by the time the film’s mystery unravels itself, is it possible to witness the full extent of this aforementioned self awareness. Tim Roth in a hilarious turn essentially plays Christoph Waltz; The various characters’ colorful dialogue, despite being super entertaining, equates to nothing ultimately, which left me somewhat wanting more out of these colorful fellows.

The film itself, which plays like a re-imagining of John Carpenter’s The Thing set in the dusty Minnie’s Haberdashery in the midst of a blizzard, features a simple premise turned complex by various twists, turns, and subversions. With masterful control of the camera  (as usual) and a brilliant manipulation of the audience’s focus, Tarantino fills the cabin with a tangible sense of paranoia. The characters are sketchy, hiding mixed intentions, secrets, and all a sense of individuality that define them as characters. From this spawns an insatiable tension, one that derives itself heavily on the spontaneity and the aliveness that each character possesses. Each actor gives a convincing performance, bringing their character to life. Walton Goggins as the new sheriff with a dubious past and Jennifer Jason Leigh as the repulsive Daisy Domergue both stand out.

Despite being almost entirely dialogue-driven, it is hard not to be completely enthralled. Occasionally, scenes are filled with raw tension, only to immediately be defused by the film’s great sense of humor. It really is amazing entertainment, enough so for its 3 hour run time and its execution to not feel as indulgent or drawn out as it really is.

An overture immediately captivates, effectively creating an atmosphere well before the producer’s slides get their chance to grace the screen. Initially, the 70mm felt like another unnecessary flourish – even now, it does not resonate as fundamental to the film’s beauty – but it certainly did help. Heavily stylized and, when paired with Enrico Morricone’s orchestral score, The Hateful Eight is a veritable epic, imbued with a sense of grandeur.

Watching the The Hateful Eight something hit me, this wasn’t so much a Tarantino film as much as it was heading in Alfred Hitchcock direction. Of course I say that with only the two thirds finished, but it felt true. Unfortunately (for me) anyone who has seen this can testify on the final third and Tarantino making it his own.

The violence is fairly brutal, even comically outrageous especially when contrasted with the film’s white, snowy backdrop, but still it remains fairly intimate. It’s themes, of trust, of unity, and of dealing with an era’s mixed up political ideals, resonate maybe more now then back when.

M. Night & Characters

Some really great thoughts here on M. Night Shyamalan’s characters by Alexander Huls at Movie Mezzanine:

Before the collapse of his career, the continual repetition of narratives about men falling from on high to struggle with failure seemed no more than one of Shyamalan’s many thematic preoccupations. Now one can’t help but see something prophetic, or at least unconscious, being expressed.

At the end of Unbreakable, Elijah rhetorically asks, “Do you know what the scariest thing is?” Then he answers, “To not know your place in the world.” Ever since his career collapsed with Lady in the Water, M. Night Shyamalan lost his place in the cinematic world. Maybe with time he, like his heroes, will find it again.

Read the rest here

Welcome Back, M Night!!

After a decade or so of wandering in the big-budget wilderness, a victim as much of hype as egotism, M. Night Shyamalan has made perhaps his “return to form” film. Ingeniously adapting to the budgetary and compositional constraints of the found-footage horror genre, turning an generic story into a jump scare machine both hilarious and deeply sad. Two kids, Becca age 15, an aspiring filmmaker, and Tyler age 13, an aspiring rapper, leave home to visit their grandparents for the first time. Their mother (the always great Kathryn Hahn) ran away from home at age 19 and hasn’t spoken to her parents since. But the kids being older now, a rapprochement is in order. The kids head to the country via Amtrak while mom goes on a cruise with her boyfriend. Becca has a dual purpose: she’s also going to make a film about the trip and her family, and this film in progress is the movie we’re watching.

In addition to the to-be-resolved relationship with the grandparents, the kids are also suffering after their father abandoned the family five years earlier. They’ve repressed it in obvious but no less real ways, and the events of the film will help them to deal with their particular fears as only the ironies of psychological horror movies can. Because when the kids get to the grandparents’ house, a lonely cabin in the woods, things, it quickly becomes apparent, are not exactly as they seem.

With a narrative as ancient as Hansel & Gretel, Shyamalan plays upon our terror of the ways the human body inevitably breaks down. The subjective camera of the found-footage genre gives him remarkable latitude in experimenting with space, both off-screen and on-, while deft uses of computer screens and mirrors and the two kids’ cameras allow us to see the characters get snuck up on without ever leaving their POV. Shyamalan’s always had a genius for suspense construction, and he lets loose with all the scare tricks he can muster: shock cuts and jumps into the frame, ominously slow and inhumanly frenetic POV movements, chillingly creepy imagery, discordant and dissonant scoring. The gasps he elicits are as much of recognition of the elegance of the shock’s construction as of the neurological jolt of the scare itself.

Shyamalan has always shown a strength for drawing exceptional performances out of child actors (Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense and the kids in Signs to name the most obvious) and he’s done so again with young Australian actress Olivia DeJonge as Becca. She’s smart and pretentious in the right proportions for a teenager with dreams of artistry, with angry eyes concealing deep sadnesses. Ed Oxenbould is less nuanced as Tyler, but he’s very funny and while most of his dramatic scenes are shot either from his point of view or just behind him, he does get one close-up scene of blithe denial that he pulls off quite well. This is what distinguishes The Visit from a horror-comedy like The Cabin in the Woods: both films are cleverly constructed and quite funny, but there’s a deeply-felt emotional core to Shyamalan’s work that comes all too rarely to the Whedonverse.

The deep sadness of Signs, The Sixth Sense snd Unbreakable are here in spades, each generation mourning its lost connection with the other, a family split apart for no good reason and unable to be reconciled. In the trial-by-ordeal logic of the Hollywood horror film, we’re left in the coda with some hope that the traumas the kids are put through on their trip will help them resolve their issues.

For the first time in a long while,  M Night has made a film that demonstrates all his strengths with efficiency and grace . Like many an artist, a return to basics, with the constraints of budget and general, have produced a return to form. Personally, I couldn’t be happier for M. Night. I am a huge fan of his earlier work and any sort of resemblance of that makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Welcome back M. Night! Now, how about that Unbreakable 2? :)

Chapter 3 Preview

In 2006, I began writing a movie script titled “The Fiction of Werther Oaks.” I would have never known that those words would induce so much pain and pleasure in my life. Below is an excerpt from an early chapter in my book I am working on. In my opinion, if the book’s aim is true, it will prove to be a memoir of sorts. But also, a deep and honest personal look into not only a first time filmmaker, but anyone aspiring to do something for the first time and the emotional and psychological battles that come with the territory. Thank you guys for taking the time to read and any feedback at all would be greatly, greatly, greatly appreciated. Thanks so much.

Chapter 3: The Offer, The Decision & The Non-Believers

           Oddly enough, completion of the script was really the beginning of the work for me, I just didn’t know it at the time. The script just flowed out. Easy, like a hot knife through butter. Ideas surged and things became clearer and clearer as the story drew near an end, a very rare thing for me. When writing was over, I called my “agent.” I put that in quotations because she wasn’t really my agent. She was an agent of a client of mine. (I was a barber by day) By chance, she took a look at my earlier work and considered it deem-able to sell to low end studios. She did that twice for me. Selling my scripts, although she hardly ever picked the up the phone to talk with me, or for that matter never called me back. Anyhow, I sent her a copy of this new script. She called back immediately.

“Danny, You have a winner.” I’ll never forget those words. That’s the first time she got my name right. The winner part didn’t surprise me. I knew the script was special. I had my high school english teachers in amazement over the story. That was a clear sign, although many said I was capable of great things through my writing, as a whole they never were very positive towards me. So again, I knew this thing was good, the question was simple: was my agent going to see it? She called me Danny, thats all I needed to hear.

She talked at length about how original and fresh the story was. I realized quickly I was in a position that was foreign to me. A.) No one in the profession has ever been that impressed by my work. B.) I didn’t know what to believe and what not to believe. Until she uttered the phrase “shopping the script.” I knew that phrase. I knew it very well. I heard it on “Behind the Scenes” features on DVD’s that I loved and admired. It was all a crazy whirlwind of a phone call. Then she said in a stern voice “where are you?” I stammered: “at home.” She quickly replied with “Well get in your car and come here now.” She didn’t work far away, New York City was only an hour or so (no traffic) from my house . Not that it really mattered. She could have told me to get scuba gear and meet her in the arctic. I would have grabbed my snorkelers.

After days of seemingly driving back and forth from CT to Manhattan, it was clear she was seeing dollar signs. Now I want to be precisely clear on this. Not millions of dollars, after all who was I? Some barber who never sold anything of magnitude before. But still, in her mind it was an amount that she validated worthy by telling me, this will change your life. I was ready. Or at least I thought.

Since the script had a twist ending, it was her idea (and a great one) that we would send my script out to production companies not including the ending. I was a terrified, new kid at school, she was a confident, strong figure. She taught me selling a script had an art to it. “You are selling a story” She said, “you selling your story.” In the end, although very nervous regarding her tactics, I trusted her.

She sent the scripts (without the ending) on a late Friday afternoon. Her thought was to let people read on Saturday and have to wait a full day without talking to us. Letting them wonder about the ending a whole day. Man, looking back I was nervous. Monday came, and so did phone calls, many of them. We were getting people who wanted to meet us and people who just wanted to buy the script. It was absolutely insane. If you are not a writer, it’s hard to truly understand how completely gratifying it is for people to go from laughing at you and your work to literally throwing money at you in the blink of an eye. It was a surreal bunch of conference calls.

To my agent’s credit, she had the boldness to set a price. Another aspect I was extremely nervous about. She told me if we didn’t choose to take that route, people would see my inexperience in the industry and lowball the heck out of my script. When we discussed price I immediately thought about how much work and time I put in. I went and slept on the decision. The next day I came up with a number. I said $25,000 for the script, not a penny less. I was firm. She nodded and then agreed that was a good starting point for us to talk about. I asked curiously “for us to talk about?” She laughed. I gulped and wondered what was so entertaining. She said firmly that the price tag was going to be in the neighborhood of $120,000. I gulped more and my stomach started doing this washing machine thing, where it turns uncontrollably. I stuttered and barley got out the “ok.”

The high price tag scared some companies, but to my surprise and delight, the major players will still very much involved. We had 3 offers from 3 very major studios. She was able to get them all in the 6 figure range. That was it. She had done her job. They were all comfortable where they were at, so was she. But something started happening to me. I started to feel alone. I started to feel like I was giving my baby to parents wouldn’t be raising it in my preferred style. And when talks of “modifying” and “changing” elements of the script started to be thrown around, I got very uncomfortable.

Within the meetings, the final 3 studios all talked at length of how “small details would need to be modified.” I was sort of blinded by all this newness going on that I didn’t quite calculate what was being said. Until the contracts started coming in. I read them, handed them off to trusted people and the conclusion was in. Things would most certainly be changed. Dialogue, scenes and even one full character would be deleted! My feet were beginning to feel the ground again and my thoughts were running crazy. I was scared of losing control.

My agent assured me this was normal. She assured me this was “how things worked.” But to me it just didn’t feel right. Slowly but surely I started to doubt. I am very, very good at second guessing and looking back with a clear head, this did not work in my favor. I became so obsessive of the script staying true, that at one point my agent told me I was paranoid. Again, looking back I would tend to agree with her, but back then, all that did was turn her into one of them. I would ultimately tag them: “Non-believers.”

I told her that I needed a week to think about things. She said that wouldn’t look good to the studios. In reality, I was nervous about losing them, but I was more uncomfortable being rushed into something I wasn’t sure about (a trait I still live with). She and they granted me the week of reflection, but it was clear on her face (and voicemails she left) she knew the deal was slipping. She warned me not to make hasty decisions and think about my future. I told her thank you for the advice.

I remember that week really well. I made sure nothing distracted me. I went to visit the locations that were most personal to me and just thought about everything. When you grow up with divorced parents you feel a need to find calm and enjoyable activities by yourself. Or at least I did. No one can ruin those, there yours and there controllably safe. One of my favorites was hiking. I did lots of that during the week of reflection. I really thought to myself; what was most important to me? As the week went on, it was becoming clearer and clearer. I was about to make many enemies, very fast. Believers were going to become non believers in a blink of an eye. And my life was going to change, just not the way I originally thought. I knew in my head the right move for me. But I got infiltrated with people around me and their opinions. Towards the end of the week though, I started to get nervous again and scared of losing this opportunity. So I bargained in my head and the night before the meeting, I produced a deal that I thought was one of these “everyone wins” deals. I was wrong.

I was most certainly going to sell the script. I was even going to reduce the cost, with the only attachment that the story had to stay true. To me that was more than bargaining with them and in my head, they were getting a great product for an even better price (you could see I was a little warped) Even I could see it at this point looking back. But I figured if they really wanted the script, they would jump. After all, it was so refreshing and original.

My agent was livid. She told me this was an amateur move and unheard of on this level. She said she had spent weeks bringing this to a deal for me and I sabotaged her in the fourth quarter. I mean she was mad, real mad. I was messing with her money. Rightfully so, I guess. Her assistant came in and handed her a glass of water. She took a sip, then a deep sigh, then sat down staring at her desk. She then calmly said, “OK Danny, I’ll work with this.” I could see on her face she knew she was out of options and her last resort to get some money out of this was to play ball with the person who held the ball, or seemingly so.

She made the calls and left them all on speaker phone purposely. She knew what was going to happen and she wanted me to hear it first hand. She wanted me to hear rational people in the industry (besides herself) and make a rational decision. Needless to say, none of the studios played ball with my offer. They wouldn’t change their minds that the script needed revisions to make it successful for the masses.

The truth is, I already made up my mind before those calls. I wasn’t going to adjust my stance. So when she reluctantly told them we would need time to talk things over after the phone call. I knew I was about to take a huge chance she wouldn’t agree with.

She hung up the phone and just looked me at almost sympathetically. She already knew what I was going to say. For the first time she sat down in the chair next to me, not behind her desk. What she was about to say was the beginning for me. In so many words, it went something like this: “This isn’t a decision about a movie script Danny.” She said. “This is a decision about life, about the person you are. Sure they are going to change things in the story, its what they do. But nothing changes the fact that you made a great story. Take this money and build from it, write a couple more, call me and we’ll figure it out. Don’t lose this opportunity.” She was almost pleading with me. My mind was absent. As a 30 year old now, I look back at that and everything she said was right. But I wasn’t trying to be “right.” At such a young age, Without even knowing it, I was trying to define myself, what pressure for a 21 year old. I wanted to be a guy who didn’t settle. Who stood for something and would go to war for it. I left the office with an emotion I still can’t translate into words. I didn’t even tell her bye. She was a non-believer that this point.

In my mind, I just couldn’t do it. At the end of the day, I put my heart and soul into this script. Sure the money would have been great. Life changing really and if I had a family at the time, all my humming and hawing goes out the window. I take the money and progress. But I didn’t have a family to support. I was 21. And at the time, I realized something very special. I had in my hands, a product that professionals wanted. I had something of importance. Something I created. See, no one can take that from you. Unless of course you let them, which is something I just couldn’t do.

I didn’t know much, only that I wanted this story to be told and told to many people. I didn’t know how to film a movie. But the thought of this film never being made overcome the fear of making it myself. I had to. It was a calling so clear and I was ready to embark on this unknown world of filmmaking.

Truly Independent filmmaking.

Rethinking Lady in the Water

In light of M. Night Shyamalan‘s new film, The Visit being released soon.  I thought it would be right of me to share with the world (or a few faithful readers) one of the best movie analysis i’ve ever had the privilege of reading, The following was written thoughtfully and thoroughly by my cousin, Mike. All credit should be directed his way! This is a fantastic read and really gets at what Night’s “Lady” may have been scratching the surface of, enjoy:

Shyamalan warned his audience to keep an open mind while watching this movie. He released a “children’s book” to help establish the fantasy before the movie came out. But the complexities of its meaning are hidden behind its “fairy tale” facade. And like all fairy tales, the depth of this masterpiece extends well beyond the simplicity at its surface. If you have the interest, the endurance, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN THIS FILM, please read on.

This is a story of one man’s struggle to regain his faith and sense of purpose by overcoming emotional detachment and repression in the aftermath of an unfathomable tragedy.First, consider the name of the apartment complex – “The Cove”. A cove is a harbor along a body of running water, a sheltered inlet, like a driveway on a busy street. It is a place of seclusion, perhaps even a place to hide. The complex itself is U-shaped, and has a pool at its center. We can imagine that beyond the pool is the reality of the outside world, the “mainstream” of life. It is unknown, and something to be feared. Night has never made a movie that is so contained, so confined to a single location. The story takes place entirely within the Cove.Now imagine that the Cove is not a physical location at all, but a world that exists only in one man’s mind; and it is completely dependent upon and manipulated by his own psyche. People have commented on how the film’s location lacks detail, that it is too simple, nondescript, childish, and unrealistic.

This is not a flaw – this is by design. Cleveland Heep is its superintendent – its caretaker – its “healer”. And if the Cove is a product of one man’s imagination, then its tenants must be as well. Cleveland has a casual familiarity with all of them. And they depend solely upon him for the mundane daily maintenance of their home – we never see his boss or any other employees. Moreover, the name “Heep” itself might reflect not only the great burden he carries, but also the great number of different “tenants” that comprise his psyche. *It is interesting to note that the British use the word “cove” as slang to mean “fellow” or “man”. Similarly, the word “Cleveland” has its roots in Old English, meaning “cliff land”, and the Clevelands were known as people from the cliffs. It is perhaps an allusion to both Cleveland’s isolation and an image of instability, danger, and urgency – “bearing a great burden, teetering on the edge of a cliff”.

In this sense, “The Lady in the Water” is arguably the most unique, imaginative, and ambitious tale of inner conflict and perseverance ever filmed. The struggle takes place within the secluded confines of an apartment complex, the tenants of which are, in this metaphorical sense, the separate, unique aspects of one man’s damaged psyche. And each of them has a singular purpose in this fairy tale of faith, hope, and self-awakening. It is “a bedtime story”, one of a particular type that we tell each other and ourselves before we sleep. These stories give us hope, comfort, and peace. We call them prayers.

The Cove is a close-knit community, and its tenants all seem to have lived there for some time. In fact, only two characters arrive during the movie’s timeline – Story, the mythical narf, and Harry Farber, the movie critic (presumably named after legendary film critic, Manny Farber). And it is no coincidence that they show up at the same time – they are the dueling personifications of Cleveland’s consuming inner conflict.

Story represents Cleveland’s fractured and fragile faith in himself, in mankind, and in God. She is the hope for, and promise of, the belief in the unknown. Farber, by contrast, is the skeptic in Cleveland. His character is not simply a dig at Night’s movie critics. He is the oppressive influence which closes Cleveland’s mind and forces him to see within “the rules”, to accept that there is no originality left in the world, and nothing left to hope for. He defines the rules of Cleveland’s perception. Farber’s simultaneous arrival represents the saboteur in Cleveland’s mind. He is the embodiment of Cleveland’s debilitating doubt, generated to counter the arrival of Story – his savior, the inspiration for his burgeoning faith and redemption of purpose, presumably sent by God. While Story is the image of childlike purity and endless possibility, Farber is the closed, tamed mind of the adult, limited in imagination, and numbed by the sicknesses of society. These are the main figures in the conflict between doubt-skepticism and hope-faith. Note that Farber “must be very good” at his job in order to have been sent to this place from so far away. He is an appropriate counterpart to Story, who turns out to be of the highest and presumably most powerful status of her kind – a “Madam Narf”. He is no ordinary critic, she is no ordinary narf. And it is fitting, as both Cleveland’s tragedy and his purpose are extraordinary.

The Cove’s pool is a metaphor for a man’s heart, once again incorporating Night’s connection of purity and innocence with water. Cleveland initially senses Story’s presence in flashes – fleeting glimpses and the occasional sounds of splashing from the pool at night. Perhaps he has just enough faith left to recognize it when it is revealed. And he finds it in the pool, as one might find faith in the heart. She arrives naked, not only a reflection of the vulnerability of the fragile faith she represents, but a vision of the freedom and innocence that accompanies the purity of childlike inhibition. Far from able to embrace his faith, Cleveland is discomforted by her nakedness and gives her a shirt. His journal reveals to her the deep sorrow that presumably has led him to this place, and kept him lost from a life of fulfillment as a medical doctor. She reminds him that everyone has a purpose (a profound statement in the context of this story and its location). But watching Cleveland plead with Story to keep his secret from the tenants of the Cove, we witness the active repression of his pain and his debilitating inability to cope with the loss of his family. He cannot allow the separate aspects of his personality (the tenants) to experience the tragedy. Moreover, his crippling stutter (absent in her presence) is symptomatic of what appears to be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Unable to experience the inspiration, the “awakening” of her presence, he decides to help her complete her task and protect her from the “scrunt” sent to kill her.

Cleveland is guided throughout by the character of Young-Soon, whose mother knows the ancient story behind this narf. Young-Soon is the child aspect of Cleveland’s mind that is willing to believe in fairy tales. Consider that as she translates the story to Cleveland from her mother, the two characters hear the story together for the first time. At one point, she even expresses a hope that the story is true. Her immaturity, her recurring childish exit line “bye, Mr. Heep”, and even her name suggest that she is a child (despite her noteworthy height), and thus more amenable to the tales of magic and fantasy that are normally dismissed by adults. Her mother is uncomfortable translating the story in its entirety until Cleveland presents himself to her as a child. But if she is part of the Cove, then so must be the story itself – perhaps heard long ago and buried in the subconscious, perhaps a complete fabrication, or possibly parts of both. It’s not surprising if you can accept that the Cove exists in the mind of a writer. Mrs. Choi is the elderly Korean woman from within the Cove (or invented by it) who becomes the source of this fairy tale. The adult psyche finds it easier to impede the conveyance of the unbelievable story by creating it in a foreign language and from the representation of a respected but unfamiliar source – the perception of a wise and holistic people unbound by Western convention.

The “scrunt” is the manifestation of the ills and evils of society, and the horrors of which man is capable, within Cleveland’s psyche. It is a monstrous form of the fear and anxiety that has denied Cleveland his ability to right his life since his crisis. It preys upon Story. It comes from outside the Cove, from the unknown reality beyond the pool, and it only fears the Tartutic. The Tartutic are the “justice” for which Cleveland cries out when the scrunt attacks Story on the night she should be allowed to leave freely. They might more accurately be thought of as “fate”, or as that which protects the course of predestination. They are the “should”.

The one man who can control the scrunt is the “Guardian”. Cleveland’s search for the guardian is the search for that part of himself that is able to face his fear, to “look it in the eye”. When he misidentifies this figure as himself and confronts the scrunt, it attacks him. But only the two new arrivals, Story and Farber, appear vulnerable to physical harm by the scrunt. It’s danger to Cleveland’s own character is not actual “death”, but the threat of the reinforcement of his fear and, consequently, his psychological dysfunction. Consider that when Cleveland is about to be attacked by the scrunt, he suddenly awakens (physically unharmed) with Farber standing above him, expressing his displeasure with some movie he has just seen, and arguing against the symbolic purity of water. Also consider that he is standing between Cleveland and the pool at the time, actualizing a metaphor of a man being denied the purity of his heart by his own skepticism and doubt. Cleveland actually credits Farber for having saved him from the scrunt. But Farber was not the savior – he was the trauma, the damage itself – the stifling of Cleveland’s belief, and the reinforcement of his doubt and inability to face his fear once again. It is a powerful crystallization of how Cleveland’s mind works against him.

Vick Ran (Shyamalan, himself), is “the writer inspired by the Story”. His first words to Cleveland – “The light over my desk is still broken.” You can’t write without light, and it’s something Cleveland has been putting off. But a light is not a difficult fix, and Vick does not seem to be in a rush to finish his book. Cleveland sees the book by chance while repairing the light, and initially dismisses its content after observing its title, “The Cookbook”. But he is soon reminded to never judge a book by its cover (how very appropriate).

Vick’s character is at least as important as Cleveland’s. The prediction of his future describes how his book will have a profound philosophical influence on the world, and how this socio-ideological impact would result in his own death. Vick draws an indirect comparison to Martin Luther King within the story itself; and we are reminded of other figures such as Christ, and of other doctrines, or “cookbooks”, such as the Bible. Vick represents the “purpose” that Story assures Cleveland he has not lost. He is the part of Cleveland’s psyche that is capable of accomplishing great things. Such endeavors, however, expose the psyche to harsh and potentially stifling criticism – the “murder” of the creative mind – something of which Night himself has faced, and continues to face, far too much.

Whether writing “The Cookbook” is the literal greatness, or purpose, of which Cleveland is capable, and whether the death of Vick Ran is the literal death of Cleveland Heep, is for the viewer to determine. But it is a reasonable conclusion, if you extend Cleveland’s role as the “healer” to meaning the “healer of mankind”. In this scenario, perhaps the pain of the tragedy he experienced would be the catalyst and inspiration for this doctor to attempt to change the world by writing a book. Conversely, it is conceivable that Vick Ran – the “writer”, the “purpose” – is the true subject of this story. He is the “vessel” of Story’s inspiration, and the only part of himself that Cleveland can correctly identify before being influenced by the skeptical, closed-minded Farber. He shares Cleveland’s sad and quiet demeanor, his self-effacement – “I’m nothing special”. He is single (as are just about all of the main players as far as we are aware), but cannot easily care for himself, to cook or clean, and relies on his sister in this domestic capacity. Of course, he would be unaware that he has ever had a wife or children, as would all but two of the other tenants in the Cove, since that information has been repressed, hidden within Cleveland’s “journal”. Cleveland Heep, the “healer”, may not actually be the man behind the psyche represented by the Cove, but only that part of the whole that is responsible for its healing. In this case, Cleveland’s task is to heal himself, Vick Ran – the healer of mankind. Therefore, Cleveland’s inability to satisfy this obligation until he, himself – “the healer”, is healed is the true meaning behind this story.

In his search for the remaining cast that is necessary for Story to return to the “Blue World” Cleveland seeks the advice of Farber, the man he erroneously identifies as “the person whose opinion he respects”. This path ultimately culminates in a party (a celebration of Farber’s arrival, no doubt!). And it is during what is, in essence, this celebration of skepticism and closed-mindedness that Story (Cleveland’s faith) is dragged off and nearly killed. The series of misidentifications illustrates not only Cleveland’s detachment – his inability to know himself, but also the destructive process of another symptom of Cleveland’s disturbed psyche – self-sabotage. So it is no coincidence that Cleveland cannot complete this task and accept that he is the “healer” (of Story, his faith) until Farber (his skepticism) is killed by the scrunt.

“The Guardian” turns out to be Reggie, who wears the dog tags of a soldier. He is a normal man that is not consumed with, but only partially occupied by, a need for physical strength. After all, Reggie’s true power is ultimately not physical. Reggie is a representation of both Cleveland’s strength and lack of strength. His intentionally one-sided muscular development not only suggests Cleveland’s inability to utilize (or even identify) his inner strength, but also indicates a systematic, “scientific” maintenance of an emotional imbalance and instability.

“The Interpreter” is originally thought to be Mr. Dury because of his proficiency with crossword puzzles. In actuality, the interpreter is his son, Joey. The selection emphasizes the ability of children to see things with a clarity and simplicity that becomes lost for adults as they become limited by social paradigms and restrictions. In fact, Mr. Dury at one point admits that his ability with puzzles and symbolism is limited to his crosswords. The loss of this childhood ability is poignantly illustrated by this father-son disparity – it is Mr. Dury that realizes that his son (presumably the child version of himself – “I’m gonna be just like my dad”) is the real interpreter. The idea denotes the endurance of important childlike notions in Cleveland’s psyche. It also refers to a psychological healing process that addresses the significance of childhood perceptions, and the subsequent development of emotions and coping strategies during childhood.

“Someone whose opinion Cleveland values” turns out to be the shut-in, Mr. Leeds. He is the only tenant who knows of Cleveland’s tragedy (the only other part of his psyche from which it has not been completely repressed). Mr. Leeds “has been here forever”. He sits in a dark room, surrounded by books, staring at images of war on television. His role is somewhat paternal – he refers to Cleveland as “son” (“don’t become what I have”), and encourages him to “not give up”. He somehow sees everything that’s going on around him in the Cove. He is Cleveland’s conscience, his conviction – what some would consider to be functions of “the Soul”. He is the inner voice, the moral compass that guides him. Even his name is significant. But he is the part of the Cove that has been most affected by the sins of mankind and the toxicity of society – “I wanted to believe more than anyone”. In what is essentially inner dialogue, he questions aloud whether man should be saved – and Cleveland answers that he should be. In this moment, Cleveland expresses a desire to live – to be healed, and to rebuild the trust to reattach himself with society.

The “someone with no secrets” is Mr. Bubchik, the man who is unaware that his wife reveals his secrets. He represents the undeniable reality of Cleveland’s weakness, his shortcomings, and his mortality. This candidness promotes a sense of honesty and comfort, a willingness to accept oneself despite one’s flaws. Mr. Bubchik represents that which Cleveland has no choice but to accept. And he provides Cleveland the opportunity to relieve himself of the guilt that has accompanied the burden of his secret. He cannot forgive himself for that over which he had no control – the inability to save his family – unless he is able to openly share it with himself.

“The Guild” consists of seven women, a group formed to protect a common interest. The number seven is prominent in religion and mythology – “The Seven Divine Women” (in Khasi mythology), “The Seven Sleeping Men” (in Christian mythology), “The Seven Mothers” (in Hindu mythology), “The Seven Virtues”, “The Seven Sacraments”, and so forth. And a group of women is a representation of Cleveland’s burgeoning sense of self worth – the empowerment of that which is generally perceived to be weak and undervalued (this is particularly true in many traditional Hispanic cultures which are known to be excessively misogynistic). The first scene of the movie (a clever foreshadowing) shows Cleveland trying to kill a “big, hairy” bug under the sink of a Hispanic family’s apartment. In the background, we see the family’s daughters brandishing makeshift weapons and squealing in fear of the bug. They make up five of the Guild’s sisters. The others include Anna Ran, Vick’s sister (who acts more as a wife or mother to him at times), and Young-Soon, who makes an early reference to her sister who married a dentist, and who is invaluable in guiding Cleveland along his journey of self-awakening. The Guild assists Cleveland through their “laying on of hands” in the climactic scene involving Story’s healing and his own catharsis. The image illustrates Cleveland’s need for emotional attachment (more typically associated with women and prohibited for men in Western culture) in order to connect with what he has repressed. Conversely, these women who provide emotional aid in this scene are armed and readily patrolling the pool’s perimeter in the next. It’s a testament to the power of women to both heal and protect.

The group gathers together to “bring strength to the moment” of Story’s (and Cleveland’s) healing and liberation. It is only then that he is able to reach catharsis. He reveals his tragedy to all aspects of himself, and releases the repressed pain and guilt that have kept him isolated in the Cove. It is at this moment that he is able to heal and embrace his hope and faith once again, leaving it safe and appropriate for the angelic Story to return to the Blue World on the wings of the Great Eatlon. Presumably, God’s angel has fulfilled her task to save a man – indeed, all of mankind (she is the Madam Narf) – and returned to heaven.

Shyamalan has called this his most personal film – an especially significant statement, considering how personal all of his stories have been. In fact, he has referred to them as his “children”. Criticism of “The Village” stripped him of his credibility for his prior three great and well-received productions. So he cast himself as the writer whose inspiration by the Story helps him escape his doubt and heal his faith. Is “The Lady in the Water”, then, the “story” of his healing? Or is it the story that healed him? Or is it both?This man is portrayed by many as an egomaniac. Yet he has done perhaps the most humble thing imaginable – he’s created a story of amazing depth and value, but he has left it for the viewer to tie together. In this sense, he has created an incredible scenario in which the story is actually critical of the viewer. He writes stories that he would appreciate, and that a select group of the audience (however small) will appreciate. And he allows himself to be bashed for its simplicity and banality by those who can’t appreciate his effort, content that this inability is criticism enough of his critics. Think of this scenario in the context of this movie! It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in entertainment, and I only hope I’ve done it some justice.

The Fiction, finally.

Many people know I made a film. 2008 to be exact. I haven’t talked much about it on here because honestly, I have mixed feelings. It was the most exhausting yet exhilarating time in my life. When I decided to finally write about my experiences it was clear, this wasn’t going to fit in a blog post. Since, I have been actually writing a book documenting my journey of making my first film (best my memory serves me.)

So finally next week I am going to post a snippet of the book. It’s far from finished (50% maybe) but many have been asking and I really want to get some feedback.

Thanks everyone for being patient!