Does The Hunger Games Satisfy Fan’s Appetites?

A reader’s greatest excitement is also his or her biggest fear—the prospect of one of your most beloved books being adapted into a film.  “They better not cast that guy,” we often say to ourselves.  Or, “How is that even going to look onscreen?” is another of my favorite questions.  We become so concerned with how something will look because, let’s face it, looks matter.  Take Sherlock Holmes for example.  Created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as a character that relies prominently on wits with nothing especially appealing about his physical appearance, the modern day Sherlock Holmes played by Robert Downey Jr. is not only physically capable of kicking your butt, but is also ruggedly handsome with a dash of infectious charisma on the side.  Modern audiences invest themselves unwaveringly in a character that looks capable.  Despite the fact that these films cater to contemporary audiences, long-time fans still seems to appreciate them because Holmes never lost his wit and his eccentricities.  Continuing the book to film adaptation craze is Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games.  Every fan knows there will be some sacrifices and adjustments for the sake of so many excuses—time, budget, demographics.  As a fan of film and literature, I can say I was equally if not more concerned about the adaptation.  I am, however, happy to say that I was completely satisfied with the result.

The first thing I was most thankful for was that director Gary Ross did not opt for the use of the overexposed 3D.  The Hunger Games tells the story of Katniss Everdeen, a strong-willed, savvy teenager who volunteers to take her younger sister’s place in an annual televised game in which twenty-four children between the ages of twelve and eighteen are forced to fight to the death.  The book does not deal with light material and I would go so far as to say that the film emphasizes the disturbing issues of violence and entertainment.  It’s a book that almost needs a visual companion.  Ross isn’t overly flashy with his direction.  There are a few points in the film where the hand-held camera causes quite the dizzying effect and also makes it hard to see whose hands are flying where and whose blood is whose.  Other than that, he allows for the action to speak for itself.

With all the comparisons to the Twilight franchise, adults seem weary to invest their time and money into Collins’s series, but I can assure you the only common denominator is the popularity of the franchises.  Jennifer Lawrence’s Katniss is an independent, resourceful character.  She’s not just a male character wrapped up in a female disguise.  She’s a survivor, self-sufficient, and is often coming to the rescue of love interest Peeta, played by Josh Hutcherson.  Some have used the supposed love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Liam Hemsworth’s Gale as a promotional tool, but that is not what lies at the heart of The Hunger Games.  At its core are ideas of oppressive society, rising above your rank, and a culture’s immunity to violence.

Bonnie and Clyde: A Reflection of Shifting Culture

Is it really so good to be bad?  Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty’s portrayal of notorious back robbers Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow sure make it appear so in the 1967 film Bonnie and Clyde.  Director Arthur Penn juxtaposes fervent romance with gory violence in a startling and effective way.  I use the word “effective” as synonymous for “memorable”.  How could one not bear the memory of the haunting final scene of Bonnie and Clyde’s bodies convulsing grotesquely while being ravaged by an onslaught of bullets.  In Cineaste magazine’s article “Film Criticism in America Today: A Critical Symposium”, Peter Travers of Rolling Stone magazine states, “Every honest critic knows that a positive review is far more difficult to write.”  Manohla Dargis of LA Weekly agrees with this sentiment saying, “It’s easier for me to write a negative review than a positive one.” I find these statements applicable to a film of such unique character as Bonnie and Clyde.  Upon viewing this film, I often found myself asking why I liked it as much as I did and I think it is a very complicated question to answer.  While I thoroughly enjoyed the Barrow gang’s comedic theft of Eugene Grizzard’s vehicle and the subsequent kidnapping of Eugene and Velma Davis, Bonnie’s swift shift in attitude at the end of the scene reminds the audience that this is, in fact, not a joke.

While it is a film that I find difficult to explain my interest in, I find myself agreeing with critic Pauline Kael’s favorable review of the film as opposed to Andrew Sarris’ review of outrage.  While Sarris’ outrage is understandable, there is something about his complete disregard for the film that projects a curmudgeonly image because, whether he accepts it or not, this is the turn that American film and culture was taking.  His use of words such as “cheap,”, “moronic”, and “sleazy” do not act only as a critique of the film, but as a critique of culture itself.  Personally, I find too much negativity in Sarris’ review.  There is no light at the end of his tunnel.  He spares no praise for Penn’s clever camerawork or the fast-paced progression of the film.  Kael, however, lavishes the film with excessive praise.  She states, “Audience’s at “Bonnie and Clyde” are not given a simple, secure basis for identification; they are made to feel but are not told how to feel” (154).  This is a powerful statement I both agree and disagree with.  Audiences find themselves rooting for Bonnie and Clyde, hoping for their escape or another comedic bank heist.

           

Upon the duo’s first bank robbery with their new sidekick C.W. Moss, Moss decides to neatly park the getaway car in an available parking spot.  “Why’d you park the car?” Clyde asks, puzzled.  Everything appears as well and good as a bank robbery could go.  There is a splash of comedy with a side of a thrilling chase; until a man hops dramatically onto the car to stop the thieves and is subsequently shot directly in the face.  Buck Barrow, played by Gene Hackman, asks Clyde, “You had to do it, right?” to which Clyde remorsefully replies, “I had to do it.”  Clyde’s battle with guilt and his willingness to allow Bonnie to flee to safety after the murder of the man makes him almost redeemable in the eyes of the audience.  A cold-blooded killer would never show remorse.  Yet the gang continues in their robberies.  If one man could die from a plan gone wrong, more could as well yet this does not stop the Barrow gang.  And more people do die.  In this, I feel that Penn does allow audiences to formulate their own opinion about the notorious gang.  While characters exude charisma or sympathy, they also bare a price upon their heads; a price that has been earned.

           

Bonnie and Clyde is a film that employs social morals while simultaneously breaking them, a contradictory point which I feel Sarris missed.  Kael picks up on the fact that the Barrow gang encourage morals that perhaps average people take for granted such as the importance of family and loyalty.  Even Sarris cannot take that away from them.  Each member is rewarded for their contributions in gaining the money.  Kael also states, “They [Bonnie and Clyde] know that newspaper readers want all the details they can get about the criminals who do the terrible things they themselves don’t dare to do, and also want the satisfaction of reading about the punishment after feasting on the crimes” (147).  While Sarris’ review seems to chastise society for embracing a film of such graphic nature, Kael has a dialogue with the audience as to why society embraces the film and how it can be beneficial.  Kael takes on a more approachable and open presence in her review where as Sarris appears rigid and standoffish.  Another reason why Kael’s review may have been better received than Sarris’ might be quantity and quality.  Sarris’ review is miniscule in comparison to Kael’s who delves into the history of the real life Bonnie and Clyde, acknowledges previous interpretations of the pair’s story, and (most importantly) addresses that discomfort produced from the film.  Penn’s telling of the story of Bonnie and Clyde is likely to be overly romanticized, which may act as a reason for its mass appeal.  The core story is very basic.  A beautiful, but trouble woman meets a devilishly handsome and dangerous man and it becomes them against the world.  And, perhaps, it still is them against the world as the controversy remains on admiring the film in spite of the violence.

Positive Influence in Negative Criticism?

I have always been critical of criticism.  How can one not be?  The very title implies a thorough, and usually unfavorable, evaluation of a piece of work.  As someone who desperately loves film, I tend to take a critic’s review very personally.  It almost feels like someone publicly claiming I have good or, more often than not, poor taste in film.  How can anyone be expected to like work that feels like a persona attack?  Through reading what the critics themselves have to say in defense of their occupation in “Film Criticism in America Today: A Critical Symposium” from Cineaste Magazine as well as viewing Dr. Gerald Peary’s film on the same topic has likely been one of the most eye-opening experiences since I began studying film because, I realize, maybe people aren’t supposed to necessarily like a critic’s work.  In fact, not liking it may serve more purpose.

“We’re cheerleaders or spoilsports,” David Ansen of Newsweek states in his brief article in Cineaste.  This is what critics have now been reduced to and I have to admit that this is how I, too, previously viewed them.  I realize this line of thought almost counteracts working towards a degree that incorporates film.  I study film to understand and acknowledge the technical, historical, and cultural influences of film to be able to one day create a film that generates thought.  And this seems to be exactly what critics hope for as well.  Reducing what they look for is like reducing what I hope to accomplish.  How can I want to generate thought without realizing the potential for negative thought?  Does a film really generate thought if everyone agrees with its premise?

If a good film is one that is an interactive experience for the audience in which they are required to mull over the information that was presented to them, then a good critic is someone who knowledgably facilitates this experience.  At one point during Dr. Peary’s film, Molly Haskell states that she feels that a disadvantage to internet blogging is that no one takes credit for what they say, which I find to be an unerring point.  While I feel the internet is an excellent place to foster creative tendencies, it has also become a platform for cruelty for the mere sake of being cruel.  I find the rivalry between Andrew Sarris and Pauline Kael to be quite interesting in reference to the anonymity of the internet where plenty of people find themselves arguing against someone’s opinion, but there is something noble about signing a name to your opinion, especially if it’s negative.  Although Sarris and Kael had a highly publicized rivalry, they went about it with dignity.

A reoccurring theme throughout the film and Dr. Peary’s discussion following was that of adventure and life experience.  Film isn’t as simple as who makes what look the best on the biggest screen; it’s also about the substance of story and quality of character.  I truly believe people are unable to recognized and appreciate these elements without personal experience.  While I do believe we can learn about life through film, it is difficult to become the person we want through it as well.  As a critic, personality is often detectable through a person’s writing.  Moreover, life experience is important in sifting through films that one finds enjoyable and others not so enjoyable.  I remember the first movie I ever truly disliked was a 2003 film entitled How to Deal starring Mandy Moore.  At the time, I could never place why I disliked it, but as my life continued I realized it had a lot to do with the fact that the film dealt with issues (death, infidelity, abortion) at an attempt to be purposefully shocking.  The film didn’t feel like the coming-of-age story about a young woman stumbling through the pangs of adolescents it was meant to be, but more of a story gorging itself on trite teenage stereotypes as the film throws every plot device feasible on the plate of pop-star-turned-actress Mandy Moore.  It was startling to come out of the theatre not thoroughly enjoying a film for the first time, but I’ll never forget the experience.

Dr. Peary also encouraged the idea of being adventurous, which transitioned into a lengthy and interesting discussion on foreign film.  People stated that foreign film is not readily accessible to young audiences, a point I concur with, but I also believe part of the issue is that foreign film does require partial audience participation and doesn’t always provide closure at the end, leaving audiences weary of the experience.  Who wants to see a movie about real life?  This is always a question I hear people ask and, unfortunately, I have no answer other than because it’s real life and it can offer new perspective or a chance to laugh at ourselves.  I won’t sit here and write as if I have exposed myself to the plethora of foreign film in the world because I haven’t.  It hasn’t been a type of film I’ve intentionally avoided; it just never crossed my mind.  I do, however, look forward to exposing myself further to international film.

I try very hard not to categorize films simply as “good” or “bad” because I don’t think it’s that simple.  Everyone has differing tastes and, at the end of the day, they will see what they want.  I’m not so sure a critic, no matter how strong their voice, can influence that decision.  I have a new found respect for critics and hope that there will remain critics who disagree with my opinion and the opinion of the majority to allow people to learn more about themselves, film, and culture.

Easy A for Splendor in the Grass

          
           We are often taught to let go of the past in favor of focusing on the future.  With advancements in science and medicine, the future holds endless possibilities for change and progress.  There is nothing to be done about the past, especially one that does not seem like our own past.  The 1920s are a period that holds almost no significance to recent generations.  It is a time so far in the past that all we have left are the remnants of its existence—faded pictures, entertainment, and norms that are deemed outdated by the modern world.

            In 2010, Will Gluck directed the film Easy A.  Inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, the film follows Olive (Emma Stone) as she pretends to participate in sexual encounters with several boys in her high school class in order to lessen their unfavorable reputations as gay, geek or freak.  However, once the rumor mill starts turning, Olive can do very little to prevent the degrading remarks from her female classmates and the lascivious intent of her male classmates.  39 years before this film, Elia Kazan directed Splendor in the Grass, a film that deals with the issues of teenage love, morality, and budding sexuality as it was presented in the late 1920s.  In Kazan’s film, we find Natalie Wood’s wholesome Deanie Loomis fighting an irrepressible desire for Warren Beatty’s all-American Bud Stamper in a time where women become social outcasts for sexual exploration and men, while told to respect a lady’s limits, are also encouraged to release their sexual frustrations on the types of women society outcasts.

            In 2012, we like to believe that we have progressed to a level of understanding about a majority of society’s rules on sex and love and what those ideas mean to the teenage mind.  In 2012, it is easy to disregard ideas and events of the past because they did not happen in the context of our modern world.  But the truth is that the issues of sexuality, gossip, and gender are relevant to every age because they are still issues dealt with by modern culture.  As Easy A demonstrates, the double standard between women who are sexual active and men who are sexual active remains an issue.  Splendor in the Grass presents Bud’s sister Ginny, played by Barbara Loden, as the pariah of the family and the town for delving in sex and alcohol during her short college career.  It is suggested that Bud participates in similar activities during his college years as his roommate comments, “I’m beginning to think you want to get kicked out of school,” after Bud lights a cigar and tosses everything off of his desk.  However, their father, Pat Hingle’s Ace Stamper, continues to support Bud’s college career while refusing to lend any sort of helping hand to Ginny.  Ginny has the potential to be a woman ahead of her time.  She speaks freely and bluntly, always dressed in the brightest costume in rooms often filled with dark browns and grays.  While the Stamper home looks like a cross between a mansion and a ski lodge, Ginny’s room looks like something out of Barbie’s dream house, full of pastels and color.  However, Ginny is unable to cope with the adversity against her character, resulting in her acting out further and fatally.

            What I do feel is greatly different nowadays is our acceptance that we will never have control over what people say about other people.  People will gossip and infer until the end of time and while there is nothing that we can do to control it, we can still embrace our individuality, including our triumphs and missteps in love and sexuality.  As Olive concludes in Easy A, “I might even lose my virginity [to him].  I don’t know when it will happen.  You know, maybe in five minutes, or tonight, or six months from now, or maybe on the night of our wedding.  But the amazing thing is, it is nobody’s goddamn business.”