Taxi Driver

Among my favorite things about most of Martin Scorsese's movies is the way that he handles extraordinarily violent characters. Teddy Daniels (Shutter Island); Billy Costigan (The Departed); Amsterdam Vallon (Gangs of New York); Max Cady (Cape Fear); Henry Hill (Goodfellas); Jake La Motta (Raging Bull); and of course, Travis Bickle (Taxi Driver) are just a few of his shockingly violent "heroes." There are so many that - I would argue - Scorsese must have committed himself to characters of this nature, from the earliest stages of his career, with the expressed purpose of presenting them in a specific way. Many of these characters have a profoundly tragic story. Their tragedy is usually brought about by their violent behavior, and in the end few of them are made to realize responsibility for their own behavior. If I hazard overgeneralizing with these characters I would still go so far as to say that - despite so many obvious flaws - we are meant to empathize with all of them.

I am left with a number of questions about what all of this means. What do these characters' lives actual mean to us? Is there more to it than simply sympathizing with their tragic situations? Are we supposed to take away some kind of insight into our own nature? Are these stories meant to shake us out of our easy faith in the relative safety of our world? Part of me says that, because conflict is entertaining these guys are a sure bet, but isn't there more to it than that? One possibility that I find particularly attractive is that Scorsese wants us to realize that villains - as they are found in so much of traditional story telling - do not actual exist in the real world.

Jaws

The long and short of it is this: Steven Spielberg knows how to thrill us. When we discuss a director's ability to control mise en scene there are any number of things that this could mean. There are no rules about how it is supposed to work, so long as the movie achieves the desired effect. The incomparable mise en scene of the movie Jaws achieves a rather groundbreaking effect - one which is particularly appropriate to our class's discussion of the blockbuster. Few films manage to temper such absurdity in order to generate so much fear. Through camera direction, production design, sound, and music every beat of this movie toys with our sense of security - and if it occasionally takes its foot off the gas, the audience is advised to adjust their grips and hold on tighter. Could I get any cheesier?? Nevertheless, we are being manipulated with every second.

My favorite scene might be the Kintner attack. On the surface and out of context the scene might seem rather pleasant, but because we share in Chief Brody's knowledge of the first shark attack the scene's glossy exterior only amplifies the creep factor. For the majority of the scene Spielberg strips away artifices like music and plays up diegetic sounds, giving us a sense of Brody's heightened awareness. Then the whole scene climaxes with a masterfully employed "Vertigo" shot (the oft abused simultaneous dolly in and zoom out that Hitchcock made famous). This scene may well be the key to the whole film. It primes us for the rather unique experience of terror in broad daylight and plants the seed for Chief Brody's journey as a dynamic, heroic character.

The Conversation

What an astounding personal achievement for Francis Ford Coppola. On top of all of the accomplishments which are inherent to writing and directing a feature film I would call special attention to the professional struggles - which were unique to Coppola's time and place within 1970's Hollywood - and also - perhaps more importantly - to the rigors of conjuring up such an intensely personal work of art. For these reasons, it is easy for me to see why The Conversation is Francis Ford Coppola's favorite piece of work.

As we know from the reading, Coppola's company American Zoetrope was under immense pressure from Warners, in the wake of THX 1138's commercial failure. Concerned about his future ability to make the films that he was passionate about, Coppola reluctantly accepted the offer to direct The Godfather; but even before that film became the enormous success that would make the rest of his career possible, Coppola was already making plans for The Conversation. I can hardly imagine the emotional struggles he must have gone through - using the system - being used by the system - all in pursuit of his goal. I have to admire his faith in his vision, and even then - after finally securing the means of production - he succeeded in turning that vision inward, for self expression.

The Conversation's protagonist, Harry Caul, strikes me as Coppola's most personal character. In other words, there is a great deal of Coppola in Caul. This is evidenced by certain characteristics and anecdotes lifted directly from Coppola's own life, such as the dream sequence where Harry confesses a string of personal curiosities. However, I would argue that the true depth of Coppola's self expression extends to the relatively subtle emotional landscape of Harry Caul's moment to moment manifestation of Coppola's vision. Among the most poignant examples of this is Harry's embarrassment when he realizes that a rival "bug man" has secretly taped him at the post-convention party. I cannot help but wonder what true-to-life event might have inspired this particular twist in Harry Caul's journey. In the very least, we ought to recognize Coppola's willingness and ability to engage such an honest an sympathetic character portrait.