Friday 11 September 2015

Objects #38 + #39 - Hershey's Chocolate Bar / Mercedes-Benz GLE Coupe - Wings (1927) / Jurassic World (2015)

Dir. William A. Wellman / Colin Trevorrow 




This post has been mulling around in my head since seeing Jurassic World a few months ago, but it wasn't until I recently saw William Wellman's silent-blockbuster Wings (the first Best Picture winner at the Academy Awards) did I have the drive to write it up. This is a sort of combination of two posts so I'll start off with Wings then head into Jurassic World

Fairly early in Wings, our two rivals Jack Powell (Charles Rogers), and David Armstrong (Richard Arlen) find themselves in an army tent, situated at an airfield, ready for their pilot's training. In walks Cadet White, played by a scene-stealing Gary Cooper, who, attired in age-defying cool pilot's gear, tells the two of his exploits as a pilot, essentially showing these young soldiers-to-be how cool they can be. He takes out a Hershey's chocolate bar, offers them some, and eventually throws it onto the cot, which we see in close-up. He dons his leather cap and goggles, and leaves to do a few death-defying runs around the airfield, no big deal in his world. We see a close-up of him smiling and nodding at the two.


Not long after, we hear the sound of a plane crash (at least we do on the version I viewed. I believe the sound effects would have been done live in the theater at the time.), and just as we may have expected, White has been killed in the accident. The two are stunned, as are we in spirit as this character, not on screen for five minutes, was so charismatic and likable that it's a shock and a tangible waste. If men like this can die on home-ground, what will the Great War bring? It's a reminder before seeing the epic battle-scenes that war is costly, as good men such as White are destroyed by the war machine.  

Now, here's the extra-crux of the scene. You can view the end of it here. In the wake of his death, the chocolate bar is returned to, in close-up. It lies on the scarf of the now deceased pilot, and that's the point. By focusing on the simple joy of a chocolate bar earlier in the scene, the feeling of loss brought about by the death of Cadet White is deepened, and this is reflected by the characters on-screen as we see the bar abandoned forever. The simple pleasure it brought White is rendered pointless by his death. Or maybe it doesn't, but that's another topic.

The close-up however is quite long, just a little too long to be there for the artistic merit, and is clearly there, lingering, long enough for us to make out the name of the bar, Hershey's. It's product placement! Simple as that. Now if you're on the same wavelength as I was viewing the scene, this can seem quite cynical, as if this (admittedly, fictional) man's death is being used to sell chocolate bars. But actually, if its inclusion was enough to fund the film, as well as acting as a symbol of war's effect on the innocent, then surely it's worth it? The answer is up to you. Personally, I'd say so. The very fact that I can read a fair bit of depth out of a chocolate bar is merit enough really, as I know I'm not the only one who'll have done so.


Jurassic World on the other hand, on the surface level, makes no such artistic merit out of its product placement. Every car in the film is a Mercedes-Benz, to an unrealistic degree, and as you can see above, was used outside of the film as dual-promotion for the car, as well as the film itself. It works both ways. People interested in the car may go see the film to see it vs. dinosaurs (which is exactly what the poster above conveys), and people viewing the film may think "Hey, that car looks cool", and it will stick in their mind when they consider a new car purchase; that's the goal anyway. Does that serve the film's message a jot - no, it doesn't. 

But, and here's the crux, Jurassic World is so chock-full of product-placement (The Verzion Indominus Rex, Beat's headphones, Starbucks - a comprehensive list here) that it becomes artistic. ...stay with me here. The film deals with the demands of the public for fresh, new, entertainment through the genetically engineered Indominus Rex, designed to be larger than a T-Rex, smarter than a T-Rex, and more than anything, more frightening. Frankly, if you came out of this film not reading the subtext of the increasing need for bigger, badder antagonists in film franchises (Jurassic World included, the Spinosaurus being the main offender from Jurassic Park III) then you missed the stupidly blatant message.



I'm not a fan of this film, mainly because it has it's cake and eats it with regard to this theme. "Oh look at us, aren't we clever satirizing Hollywood franchises...hey, look at this cool dinosaur. Look at it! It turns invisible, isn't that cool!". Also, the film is shoddily written (nay, abysmally written), directed, and is really, really generic. It's a by-the-numbers Hollywood film that takes the piss out of itself, and yet has broken nearly every box office record out there. It's literally laughing all the way to the bank, product placement money in tow. The saddest thing for me is that audiences clearly only want dinosaurs vs. humans (with some bonus dino vs. dino action) to keep them amused. Like the audiences at the theme park, they want to see a show, a Mosasaurus, tapped in a tank, eating a shark (ha ha, we're bigger than Jaws - oh fuck off Trevorrow), then they can go home, talk about it for a few days or so, then get on with their lives. Maybe they'll buy a stuffed Mosasaur toy on the way out, or maybe the real audience will buy a Mercedes

At the end of the day I'm conflicted. Jurassic World is so garish with product placement that I find it hard to believe Trevorrow let in in without at least trying to make a point. Is that too haughty of me? Or is the point so simple - theme parks are only there to sell you things via entertainment/movies are only there to sell you things via entertainment - that it's just offensive. Films can be so much more than a cheap thrill, funded by large companies. As we see with Wings, the artistic merit can override the intended effect, or rather, work in tandem. You could argue that Jurassic World's product placement does enhance the film's message, and I would agree with you actually. The fact that the film lacks artistic merit beyond this one theme however is enough to sour the entire film for me. Nothing else in the film is potent enough, the militaristic subtext of living weapons, the film franchise satire, none of it. If the only true good, artistic thing I can say about Jurassic World is it's product placement, then this isn't a film for me. The numbers however, disagree, and that's just tragic. We deserve far more from even our blockbuster films than this shallow piece of entertainment. 

Tuesday 1 September 2015

Object #37 - Spaghetti & Meatballs - Lady and the Tramp (1955)

Dir. Clyde Geronimi + Wilfred Jackson + Hamilton Luske


"Oh this is the night
It's a beautiful night
and we call it bella notte"

Is there a more famous dish in cinema? The spaghetti and meatballs served for Lady (Barbara Luddy) and Tramp (Larry Roberts), combined with the beautiful song 'Bella Notte', is an enduring image of romance years after the release of the film. You only have to hear "This is the night" to be whisked away in your mind to the atmosphere of the romantic back alley.

Honestly this scene is so perfect that I feel writing about it in depth is just clunky and takes away from the beauty of it. But I'm going to anyway because it deserves it; I'll be as brief as possible.


In this one dish, the class barriers are not broken down, they are unified. The scene takes place in the back alley of an average Italian restaurant, run by the boisterous Tony (George Givot), who welcomes Tramp, an enjoyable visit from a stray dog to perk up his night. Tony and his chef Joe (Bill Thompson) prepare a meal of spaghetti and meatballs, not bones as Joe first tires and is scolded for, as this is a romantic date between Lady and Tramp. By having humans buy into this idea is wonderful, as it's incredibly un-cynical and enjoyable, as is Tony's character in general, and the double-act aspect of him and Joe. The candlelit dinner is something that Lady, reflecting her upper class owners, would be expected to take part in on a date. It's classically romantic (honestly, these days, probably due to the influence of this scene which we all view as kids). Having it in a back alley bridges the gap with the lower class, and the restaurant itself is fairly low-rent. 

How the spaghetti and meatballs are used is genius. The accidental kiss that occurs due to both dogs slurping the same piece of spaghetti and meeting lips, is innocent, accidental, and brings the two to their natural end-point. As Lady bashfully turns her head away in embarrassment, Tramp, in a fantastically romantic move, rolls the last meatball with his nose to her side of the plate, a sign that the kiss was exactly what he wanted, and that he feels affection for her. It also does something beyond human, as nose rolling is something dogs do naturally, and so it combines the anthropomorphic human elements of the scene: the table, the candle, so on, with the true animal nature of the pair, which to us humans, is doubly cute, and makes the moment that much better.


Eating spaghetti is also a naturally messy process. We see Lady slurp the string in surprise, breaking down her class, her 'superiority' for this meal, ergo her 'superiority' for a dog of Tramp's class. It informs the two of them that Lady is stepping down, and Tramp's staging of the meal is his way of stepping up. The two classes, unified in love. 

The music is the glue. It's an unabashed love song about savouring the beautiful night, not alone, but with a loved one. "The stars' in their eyes" is a fantastically simple lyric - the 'beautiful' night is brought right down the eyes of the one you love. "The night will weave its magic spell" is right, and it's done here by the magic of animation, humanity and animal-ity (you get my meaning) combined, and of course, music. It taps into every nervous first date we've had, will have, or have yet to have; our love of animals, particularly dogs, as a species; and our deep-down love for an unabashed love song.