I’m Always Home. I’m Uncool.

Okay, so now that I’ve had time to let Vertigo sink in, I think I’m starting to understand it a little bit better. This could also be because I’ve decided to do my paper on Vertigo and needed to start focusing and making connections. Actually, I was originally going to do my paper on Fast, Cheap & Out of Control but I changed my mind today, after realizing that I just couldn’t get Vertigo out of my head.

What startling conclusions have I made? Well, I’ll tell you. All day today I kept my mind chewing on Vertigo, and not its plot. I was trying so hard to focus on everything except for the plot that I think I missed everything about the film entirely. That is, until I read a review of the film by Mr. Roger Ebert. He made it click for me. After reading this review, I began to focus on Vertigo as a part of the larger unit we are studying, and not just as an individual film. All of this led me to one, solid, conclusion: Eben and Scotty are the same person. Both are trying to create a woman who, arguably, does not exist. Hitchcock himself is doing that in the film (as Craig says in his post, all his leading ladies fit certain parameters). Boom. That blew my mind. That is now also the topic of my paper. Now to find an essay in the FTC book that’ll help me out with all of this…

Woooossshhh!

That’s the sound of Vertigo going right over my head. I tried so hard to use all the things Dr. C told us about in class, and every bit of knowledge about film theory and composition that I have at my disposal — and I still feel completely lost.

This was the first Hitchcock film I had ever seen, and it definitely delivered what I thought it would: confusion, frightening parts (I love Jimmy Stewart like nobody’s business, and am now rather freaked out by him), and things that make you just go “huh?” So basically, I can’t wait for class for Dr. C and some of you to help me through this maze of a movie and out onto the other side safely.

By the way, I think the greatest shot in the whole film is right after Madeline has “killed” herself, and we see the nuns and priests climbing up the ladder to get to her. The camera is set high and is focusing on the mission (by the way, I’ve been there; it’s a pretty neat place). On the left side of the steeple we see Madeline’s body, and on the right, staggering out of the door of the mission, Jimmy Stewart. Pretty neat shot, I thought.

Talking about Hitchcock in class today got me thinking about obsessive people and the things which they obsess over. Most artists, I would argue, have something that they obsess about. Actually, I would argue (and I think so would a lot of other people) that it is from this obsession that the artist creates. I mean, look at Eben in Portrait of Jennie (I know, I know, why beat a dead horse, but stick with me for just a second), his “masterpiece” comes from his obsession with Jennie. She is, after all, the object of his painting. And then there is Hitchcock himself. Obviously, if he had had a different set of obsessions, Vertigo would probably by a very different film.

This actually reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend the other day. I was joking with her that “naturally all great artists are substance abusers – I haven’t written anything great because I haven’t found a substance to abuse yet!” Then, seriously she replied to me: all great artists are mentally ill, you know. I’m not sure I buy into that. But after today’s class it got me thinking: are obsessive people mentally ill? I would say no. I would argue that everyone has an obsession, whether or not they are cognizant of it is a different story. Does that mean everyone is mentally ill? Well if everyone suffered from the same mental illness, wouldn’t that make it a normal state of being?

So, are artists crazy? Is obsessiveness crazy? I don’t know. I don’t think so.

I agree with this blog post. I was, and still am, confused by Jennie’s existence. I know that she is not a ghost, because Nathan was upset by that part of the film, but is she really? This is where I feel like Portrait of Jennie goes Sci-Fi on us. Now, not Gene Roddenberry (Star Trek) Sci-Fi, but Octavia Butler (Kindred) Sci-Fi. Is Jennie time traveling? Is she aware of the fact that she is in the future when she is talk to Eben? That also brings us to different theories in regards to time travel. Is this time type of time model where the past and present and happening simultaneously, or is it the sort of past and present that are separated linearly, and are there two Jennies when she time travels, or is there just the one?

Frankly, I’m not sure if all of those things even matter. Our unit is all about “Love and its Discontents.” So where does love play into all of this? So Eben and Jennie are in love, presumably. However, they cannot be together. Why can’t they be together? I thought that the idea of love was supposed to surpass time and space and all that jazz. Apparently not in this unit. Maybe what Nathan is saying is that it can exist, because it did before Jennie died, but that it is fleeting, and no one person can understand it. Maybe. I really don’t know. What are your guys’ thoughts on love?

Portrait of Jennie is easily one of the most interesting books I’ve ever read. It really had me hooked. I never got to care much for Jennie, but I really liked Eben. Out of the two characters Jennie is the most interesting, and Eben the more simplistic. Right?

Wrong! While Jennie may seem more complicated due to the whole is-she-a-ghost/apparition/floating in time and space-thing, Eben is actually the more complex of the two. While his life may not be all that glamorous (not like Jennie jet-setting around through time and space), underneath it all, it is Eben who is dealing with the most in the book. Eben is figuring out what it means to be an artist, what art means, what life means, what death is, what time is, what love is, etc. While Jennie, the seemingly complicated person, does not deal with any of these thoughts, or, if she does, we are not privy to them.

I agree with Robyn. I think that, in Fast Cheap & Out of Control, Morris is saying that we can discover our own consciousness through others. Or at least try to discover our own consciousness/self/whatever you want to call it. Morris tries with his Interrotron, and the other men try to make sense of their own lives through each of their own individual pursuits and interests.

Now, I’m not sure if the film, and Morris, is saying that these men are succeeding in this search, or if it is ultimately unknowable. Or if the film is not saying one way or the other, but rather showing the human nature/need to figure ourselves out. Actually, now that I re-read that last bit, my money is on the latter idea.

Additionally, because each man is using a different medium to define and understand his life, does that mean that they all have different conceptions of consciousness? I know that seems like a rather obvious question with a rather obvious answer, but I’m going to ask it anyway, because what if we all have the same consciousness? What if we are all basely the same but differ in only the way we can define ourselves individually is through a different understanding of consciousness? In other words: what if all those four men are the exact same, but differ (to themselves and to us) only by the way they can define their own consciousnesses?

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Fast Cheap and Out of Control. At first I was so excited about making the connections between them and their subject matter that I never realized the huge, gaping difference between the stories they were telling. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I can see the differences. The main difference I saw that I thought was very interesting was the difference between the George (the topiary gardener) and the other three men. The other three men seem to be making these sweeping statements about their particular professions and human nature, and the human condition, and God, and life, and all that good stuff that the film is about. But George… well, correct me if I’m wrong (after all, I have only seen the film once) but George never really talked like that. All the speeches I can recall from George (easily my favorite of the four men) are him talking about his former boss, the old women he used to work for.

I don’t know exactly what influence this has on the film (again, I’ve only seen it once) but I just can’t help but feeling a little sad for George. Here he is, this older gentleman, who worked for years and years for a woman who is now dead. He still spends his time in her garden, and is basically just biding his time until he dies. He had no successor, and when he dies all the history and funny stories about that garden die with him. Morris should make a film just about George and his former employer, and this garden that has taken shape over thirty years at the hand of George. Again, I’ve no idea as to the significance of all this. If someone thinks they know, please tell me.

Seriously, I think I might make a shrine to him in my dorm room.

I agree 110% with (oh I wish I knew which blogs belonged to whom) the post on the blog All I Could Say Was about Fast, Cheap & Out of Control. I just can’t wrap my brain around it… yet. Let me watch it about nine times or so before I really get to know what I’m talking about, but until then, we’ll all just have to deal with my incoherent ramblings about one of the best films I’ve ever seen.

Morris uses a number of interesting movie effects in this film: canted camera angles (nearly every other shot is canted), black and white juxtaposed with color, extreme close ups, slow motion, fast motion, and… oh-my-god, the score. To what effect? I don’t know. Did it affect me? Why yes it did, a whole lot. I felt that out of all the Morris films we’ve seen so far, this was the most cinematic, I guess you could say. This felt to me like more a “movie” than a “non-fiction feature film.” And I think I know why. Morris is making this film about all these people talking about life. We have the wild animal trainer, the topiary master, the naked mole rat expert, and the robot scientist. All of these men are creating, discussing, observing, philosophizing, and living life. But the lives that they talk about are all drastically different, and at some point in the film (due to the heavy overlaying of one theme on another, great sound bridges, some graphic matches, and even a few sight gags) the lines between these drastically different lives seem to merge into one. That line between those separate realities begin to blur. Just as our perception of reality is being blurred and manipulated by Morris. Suddenly, these men aren’t talking about naked mole rats, robots, lions, or topiaries… they are all talking about humans, and human existence. ::please allow for a slight pause while my brain explodes from the absolute brilliance that is Errol Morris::

There’s so much more to say about this film, but first I need to watch it about a million more times. Oh, I can’t wait for class tomorrow… Until then, go to Tyler’s blog for some ideas that will help to convert you to the new religion I’m starting which will revolve entirely around Errol Morris.