How many people have actually seen Citizen Kane?

It's comforting to know that when I write something there are some people who actually read it! Even better that they want to talk about it. It's the most rewarding thing. I don't really care if it's criticism or general agreement with my thoughts - the interaction is the important thing.

And so that is where this specific post begins. After I posted my State of Union, a friend of mine - who I shall call the V Machine - challenged one of my assertions. The gist of my assertion was that I felt marginalized at NYU because of my love for the big movies, the ones the public see, the ones they want to see. V Machine felt the opposite. What little movies we did watch were the canonical texts with no attempt made to broaden the filmic scope.

I am not sure we actually came to common ground because neither of us really wanted to budge from our intellectual bunkers. For a minute, we got stuck on what might almost qualify as a cliche in the halls of academia - "gaps of knowledge." When did we finally get to see the Excorcist? How long before we could actually sit through the Godfather without getting bored? Perhaps it might be helpful is to talk of "gaps of WANTED knowledge." I am perfectly comfortable in my American movie bunker. Yes, it might be most talked about, but certainly not exhausted. V Machine (I think) wanted more international cinema in her schooling. I guess she is the better person because its not like she has no interest in American, just another interest. Me, I have no interest in the international movie scene.

For the most part, I stand by my assertion but I will make one addendum - a qualifier for my knowledge. I am interested in what people in my general social circle (United States) are watching NOW. My one qualifier is the CONTEMPORARY component. Some may see my position as a limiting one and perhaps even an ignorant one, but my two reasons are simple.

The first and most important, I want to talk with people about movies. And I don't mean the cinephile. I want a simple but engaging conversation about a movie. The easiest way to do that is with my family and friends and the movies they see. I want to see the film playing on 6 screens at the local multiplex. It's easier to talk about TRANSFORMERS 2 than say, BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN.

Secondly, to borrow from Bordwell and Thompson title, film is art - ALL OF IT. I care about narrative heterogeneity, cinematography, editing, color, and voice-over. When I say, ALL OF IT, I mean the films. Even the worst films have redeeming moments or something you can learn. I believe this is why I am a forgiving critic - that and I am generally a positive person.

Perhaps if I say it this way: All of the movies I wrote about for final papers were big Hollywood releases within the last 15 years (BRAVEHEART, SYRIANA/BABEL, TOY STORY, SIN CITY, MINORITY REPORT, 300, and THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING). For some reason I feel this to be against the norm. Does this help with my sentiments?

I want to know what is driving the culture. If The Da Vinci Code becomes a worldwide phenomenon, I want to read it because of that reason. Yes, I've read Twilight and plan to read the second one. It's water cooler conversation but I love it! This is not an indictment of my fellow MAs at NYU. We had and still have water cooler conversation. However, it seemed that when it came time to write a paper, the expectation was to jump into the deep end of the cinema pool, because that is where the robust material resides.

Perhaps it boils down to my never-ending quest against the disparaging of something simply because it's popular. "I used to like them, but ever since they started playing them on the radio, I don't like them anymore" makes no sense to me. Either you like or you don't.

The last thing I want to say is very important. My post sounds like I didn't enjoy my time at NYU. Far from the truth, I enjoyed it. It is a place where no idea is too stupid. Nothing is unquestionable. Debate is encouraged. Some cynics may disagree with me, but that's okay. I am a positive person.

Manhattan (Woody Allen, 1979)

Brace yourself! Manhattan might MIGHT be more about the city than Woody Allen. Pinch me!

I enjoy visual onslaughts – and Manhattan is no exception. Two years earlier, Annie Hall (Allen) covered similar narrative territory, but Manhattan structures itself differently. Notably the film offers a linear narrative, but most striking is the choice to use black and white exclusively. No, Manhattan cannot compare to The Matrix or Lord of the Rings for all their visual escapades, but Manhattan offers as much spectacle through subtle nuance as either of those recent blockbusters.

Woody Allen plays television writer Isaac Davies, almost a carbon copy of Annie Hall’s Alvy Singer. It’s hard to feel bad for Isaac though. Isaac, divorced from a young and very attractive Meryl Streep (Jill) and now rides a relationship merry-go-round featuring both a precocious albeit mature 17 year-old Tracy (Mariel Hemingway) and an older more culturally sophisticated Annie Hal…sorry, Mary Wilkie (Diane Keaton). In short, if you like Woody Allen being Woody Allen, then Manhattan is for you. If you don’t, then skip it.

Endless comparisons have probably been made between this film and Annie Hall. One of the few negatives of Annie Hall might be in its structure. The non-linear narrative may confuse and distract filmgoers. However, its structure allows a more generalized feeling to surface. Manhattan is Annie Hall, streamlined.

With the writing and narrative components so closely related to Annie Hall, what sets Manhattan apart from its cinematic spouse is the visual element. The black and white choice is significant requiring a vastly different approach from all aspects of the filmmaking process. The costumer designer (Albert Wolsky), cinematographer (Gordon Willis), and production designer (Mel Bourne) and others must work in concert to create the look for the film. In a black and white film, the foremost concern is contrast. A blue and green sweater might look good, but offers little in terms of color contrast. Noticing a simple layering effect requires vastly different and perhaps an unconventional color palette to the naked eye. Some of the best scenes of the film involve Woody Allen dressed in a tuxedo begging the question: Does any other costume design look better in black and white?

A few scenes remind me of Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941). Sometimes these scenes manifest themselves in single shots. One scene early in the film displays one floor of Isaac’s first apartment. Two light sources balance the shot: one illuminating the spiral staircase and the other as a fill or back light for Tracy sitting on a couch. The stationary camera allows the viewer to absorb the entirety of the shot. Recall the scene from Kane when Charles Kane (Orson Welles) finishes Jedediah’s (Joseph Cotton) newspaper article. Think of the depth of the scene: Kane typing in the foreground with Jedediah pleading to his longtime friend, and all in focus. It does not seem unreasonable to see other filmmakers taking a different approach in using tighter angles and shots. Sometimes the simple choice (possibly an easier one?) is the best one.

The camera positions the active portion of the scene deep into the frame. The other option would be to follow Isaac with a handheld camera through the apartment and settle in a stationary position framing Tracy and Isaac together. This illustrates the central point in Manhattan – the influence of locale. With Annie Hall, the reasoning for the title is obvious because the film focuses on Alvy’s relationship with the character. Manhattan’s title leaves room for speculation. Again, scenes featuring Isaac and Mary place them deep in the shot and once again allowing eyes to stray to nearby delis and skyscrapers. But I’m not sure I learned how Isaac and therefore Allen feel about the city. Obviously, they like it. Tell me why? Still, the film opens with a voice-over from Isaac campaigning for New York as the greatest city in the world suggesting that the film is more about the city than Woody Allen. Pinch me again!