Easily the most ridiculous thing i've written for this class. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and its subversion of noir, a la Calwetti's "Chinatown."

It is really, really, tremendously unjust that Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was never given a wide release. Released in 2005, a lack of ability to market it led to it being rushed in and out of theatres. This has nothing to do with what I’m about to say, but it ticked me off so much because it is a film that should be widely seen. It’s distortions of genre (what I’m actually going to talk about) are nothing short of ingenious, and it’s also just a really (expletive deleted) good film. And yes, I am trying to imitate the film’s style, to no avail, and probably to the detriment of my grades (too self-referential? Almost definitely. I apologize for it in advance: it only gets worse from here-on-in. Also, if you forgot what this sentence was originally about due to this ridiculously long intrasentence parenthesis, it’s about me imitating the film), in this blog itself. And yes, I will overuse (and incorrectly use) parenthesis.

Spiritually, the film really reminded me of Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye. Both are criminally unseen, both are comedic takes on the noir genre (or whatever noir is), and both involve tremendously incompetent protagonists. In fact, they are so much similar that I’m going to make this paragraph extraneous, and just forgot I ever brought up the previous film after this paragraph (you can skip ahead now). Without spoiling the film, the scene where Robert Downey Jr. shoots the murderer of the purple-haired girl is nearly identical to the closing of The Long Goodbye. The slapstick violence, twisting plot, and mockery of Hollywood are also key components of both films. BUT, I know, my point here is not to recommend films. Instead, it is perhaps to show how Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a successor to a long line of films that managed to subvert genre without neccesarily being satire. And, I think, to show how Hollywood itself (Robert Altman, who would later direct the out-and-out Hollywood satire The Player, and Shane Black, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang's director and a long time screenwriter, both had experienced some of the stereotypical betrayals of a cutthroat Hollywood) forces the people who work in film to question and mock its conventions, its mores, and even the other people in Hollywood. It's interesting to see how these subversions develop over time, and how little Hollywood culture and conventions really changed over the course of 30 years (unfortunately, no clips from the film I'm referencing, which sort of makes it hard to show the obvious parallels).

Well, after two paragraphs not talking about what I should talk about, let me get down to business. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a great example of how to subvert a genre without necessarily lampooning it. This is not an Airplane!-like film. There are real characters here, and even when their situation is played for laughs (which is often), I still felt for the characters. Perhaps it’s a tribute to Robert Downey Jr.’s acting ability that I can laugh when he accidentally shoots a man, yet simultaneously feel his rage and indignation when he purposefully shoots another. The second scene is, and I don’t mean to exaggerate, one of the best acting jobs I could imagine. Robert Downey Jr., who up until this point has essentially served in a comedic fashion, switches the film’s tone almost instantaneously from one of comedic (on my first viewing I laughed when the hitman sees him) to pure darkness. He is a moral man who commits a cold-blooded act of murder, and the switch is pitch-perfect.

It’s one hell of a balancing act, and it’s one that Kiss Kiss Bang Bang executes almost perfectly. It allows the film to out-and-out mock the noir genre (the Russian roulette scene, throwing the gun in the water, the entirety of “Gay” Perry’s character), while still employing the techniques that make the genre effective. The emotional resonance of some scenes (including when Gay Perry is shot) is amazing, especially when one considers how funny the scene right before it was. Admittedly, sometimes Shane Black's screenplay fails to work (the conclusion is a bit unsatisfying: it leaves open the romantic subplot in a manner I think is lazy, and it erases the impact of Gay Perry’s shooting. Also, the plot is still way too convoluted), but, as Some Like it Hot taught us…

Well, that joke didn’t work too well either. Let’s move on. The key to the film’s structure that allows us to simultaneously mock and submit to the noir genre is the film’s consistent breaking of the fourth wall. It’s an technique that can be used for great success (and, looking back on my blogs, I will bring up Annie Hall for the 10,000^th time. Could you tell I’m a New York Jew? However, it's also a great tool for pure comedy), or can completely remove the viewer from the film. Indeed, the film can admit when it’s being lazy (the expository dialogue about the antagonist, ending the film as many times as Return of the King), and yet it can still be lazy. It’s also the assumption I tried out with this blog: concede each one of my screw ups, and try to pass them off as jokes. Hopefully, I didn’t make you forget out of the actual ideas of my post.

Oh right, the actual ideas of my post. Well, I guess it’s this. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang does an incredibly great job of subverting genre. It uses great performances and comedy to both mock and embrace the noir film. It’s hysterical, occasionally poignant, and undeniably unique. I love it, but I tried to concentrate more on how the film successfully toys with the idea of genre. I could see why some might find its self-referential nature obnoxious (for example, people who find this blog obnoxious, and trust me, I don’t blame you if you do. In fact, if you don’t, you’re just being overly generous), but I think it transcends that with simple good execution, acting and dialogue. Either that, or I have a gigantic man-crush on Robert Downey Jr. (yes).

Cache: a question of perspective (embed won't work, so all I have is links)

Caché is a disconcerting, uncomfortable and thoroughly unpleasant viewing experience. Normally, this would be an indictment of the film, but with Caché, it is extremely clear that director Michael Haneke has created the exact film he wanted. His filmography consists almost exclusively of films that aim to make the audience feel awful. His 1997 film Funny Games (remade shot-for-shot by Haneke in English 10 years later) is unbelievably horrific because it continually and purposefully makes the viewer feel awful. It is not a horror film that scares you and makes you afraid of things that go bump in the night; instead, it is a film that directly tells the viewer that he is a bad person, and subjects him to a sort of purposeful emotional torture.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbYXvq_auXE (as an example of how much Haneke doesn't like his audience)

Understanding Haneke’s oeuvre is critical in understanding Caché. Caché, like Funny Games or any of his other works, seems to exist as a direct indictment of the viewer. I am not trying to paint Haneke as merely a sadist (although at times I feel like it's true). Indeed, I’ve now subjected myself to three of his films (the equally hard-to-watch The Piano Teacher being the other). Instead, I think Haneke deliberately toys with the viewer’s expectation of what a film will do in order to, in his words, make the viewer a more active participant in watching a film. He deliberately reshapes both narrative and cinematography to make the viewer uncomfortable.

From a cinematographic perspective, Haneke’s work in Caché is incredibly successful. The opening shot, which is just several minutes of people walking and riding by in front of the house, immediately lets the viewer know that this will not be an incredibly fun film. The shot runs for an uncomfortably long period of time (a technique used again and again in Caché) and the credits appear in an incredibly simple matter, just small white text appearing on top of this shot. He deliberately refuses to allow the viewer to subsist on the filming techniques they are used to.

The entire cinematography makes you question, “Who is watching this film?” Normally, the camera can be used to represent a whole variety of perspectives: a character’s viewpoint, an establishing view of the surroundings, or something else. The security tapes sent to Georges (Daniel Auteuil) and Anne (Juliette Binoche) Laurent are clearly being made by someone. However, Caché itself, as a film, consists of the same type of static shots even when the perspective is not supposed to be a tape sent to the Laurents. For example, this sort of long-take occurs during the filming of Georges’ TV show, and the shot itself could not have been taken by any one person, nor could it have feasibly occurred, as the camera itself passes through a wall. This constant distortion of perspective is a central question of the film: who is this “absent one,” as Heath would say, that is seeing all of these shots? My opinion is, after viewing all of his films, that there is no answer, and that Haneke creates these questions only to make the viewer uncomfortable, but that is just an opinion.

However, the question of the “absent one” is not the only way in which Haneke toys with cinematographic convention. He shifts perspective in other ways, such as a violating the 180 degree rule. He uses this to great effect each time the protagonist Georges enters Majid’s (Maurice Bénichou) apartment. The first two times, where the encounters go relatively without incident, Georges enters the hallway from one direction. The last time, when their meeting is much, much more eventful, Georges enters from the other side.

This lack of comfort Haneke has created throughout the whole film delivers a shocking moment in this last scene between Georges and Majid. After spending a large portion of the film concentrating on mundane details, Haneke pulls out a completely genuine surprise. Majid calmly reiterates that he has not been terrorizing Georges, and then slits his own throat. First of all, by using the same calm, stationary long-take he has been using for the mundane details, Haneke makes the scene blend in with all the other boring yet uncomfortable moments we have seen before. Secondly, the method of suicide, and the timing, is so out of the ordinary that the audience almost cannot compute what has happened.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47FWtVp6UEI&translated=1

Haneke also expertly distorts our expectations of what to expect of the narrative. The film seems to establish Georges and Anne as the sympathetic protagonists. Then, it deliberately subverts this by having a scene where Georges has what is essentially a racist outburst towards a black man in the middle of the street. The audience is uncomfortable, as we have already decided to support Georges and Anne. We become more uncomfortable when we learn Georges is responsible for Majid’s poor living situation, as Georges framed Majid as a child and thus put Majid in an orphanage. Although I personally don’t believe Georges situation can be viewed as a critique towards the whole of wealthy society, Haneke certainly succeeds at making his “protagonist” genuinely unlikable, and, in a way, makes the audience feel as though we enabled his actions.

Caché is not a film I would recommend taking a date out on, unless you really don’t like her (and even then, try and be merciful). Nor would I watch it on some lazy Sunday afternoon. It is, however, an effective and interesting film, one that poses some interesting questions both about the nature of viewing film and about the nature of racism in society (although, again, I believe it succeeds moreso as an experiment in watching film). Haneke is a unique director, and deliberately makes his audience feel uncomfortable. Caché is certainly thought-provoking, and it really forces the viewer to examine all of their presumptions about watching film. As for me, I’m okay with seeing a Haneke film every now and again, and then return to more enjoyable films.