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The Superhero and the Super Hero: The Development and Legacy

*I thought for my last blog I would do something a bit more fun. It’s a little different but I hope you all still enjoy it. *

As a little kid I would always dress up for Halloween. My dad would pick me up and throw me into the air and I could pretend I was flying. I would spend hours in the backyard fighting invisible enemies, kicking and punching the air, pretending like bad guys were at my mercy. I was the protector of justice, the keeper of all that was good. Superheroes, to me, were the combination of all positive qualities people all mushed together and multiplied a hundredfold. Their moral aptitude, courageous spirit, and unbelievable strength kept me entertained under the blankets with a flashlight reading comic books for hours after bedtime.

An artists rendition of many classic superheroes and villans.

Some had superpowers, burdened by the responsibility of being great. For example in the 2004 animated feature film The Incredibles, directed by Brad Bird, each character has a certain superpower. Mr. Incredible has the gift of super strength, lifting cars and bench-pressing trains. His son, on the other hand, has the gift super speed; the ability to run so fast he doesn't break the surface of the water as he jets across. Superpowers aren’t necessary, however. Take, for example, the 2005 live action film, Batman Begins directed by Christopher Nolan. Nolan portrays the superhero as realistically as possible; the character of Bruce Wayne, a billionaire industrialist, having no outstanding powers other than his fervent determination and sharp intelligence. Whether a serious dramatic portrayal or an animated spoof, a Superhero represents the archetypal being; a societal desire to strive for the unreachable: peak physicality and mental prowess, highest regard for values and morals, and immortality in the face of uncertainty and fear, all attributes transcending the limits of human ability.

Adversity, a common theme throughout superhero cinema, is mainly used as a catalyst for greatness; pressure on a character to have them rise to the occasion. In Batman Begins, for example, Bruce Wayne witnesses his parents murder and struggles internally with vengeance against the perpetrator. “My anger outweighs my grief” he states as he plans to kill his parents murderer, clear that he is not fighting against injustice but for retribution. His struggle with this uniquely human characteristic creates him as a distinct mortal character, a trait that causes him to be relatable and dimensional. On the other hand, The Incredibles, an homage to classic superhero cinema, instead shows adversity through the downfall of the great superhero time or "The Golden Days". Like pressure on a coal to make a diamond, adversity on the hero forces them to develop, in this case, by forcing them to settle down and create a family, the greatest strength that one has throughout life.

Strength, for the hero, comes both physically and mentally. Mr. Incredible and his family have certain powers that transcend human capabilities while Bruce Wayne, although having no natural extraordinary ability, continually trains to be in peak physical shape. Mentally, each superhero must be sharp and able to use the surroundings to their advantage. For what Batman, a human and mortal, lacks in superpowers he more than makes up for in intelligence. He knows he can only become so physically adept and must use his brain (and endless money) to design equipment to transform himself into a superhuman.

Being mentally adept is only half the battle, however. Each must also street savvy and resourceful. The downfall for most super villains is their inability to think outside their " Master-plan". Syndrome, the main nemesis in The Incredibles, did not account for the fact that the robot he built could learn so well that he would become unable to control it. The Incredible family, however, uses their combined strength as well as their surroundings (ex. flinging the manhole cover at the root robot to disable it) to their advantage. Bruce Wayne, after learning of his mentor’s plans to destroy Gotham City (his hometown) uses his environment to destroy the training facility and keep the plan from being executed.

 

"No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again.” - Mr. Incredible

This classic superhero code is to protect and aid those in need.  "I seek the means to fight injustice, to turn fear onto those who prey on the fearful", Bruce Wayne states proving that stalwart morals and a powerfully strong code of values is paramount. Even 15 years after society shunned them, Mr. Incredible and his super pal “Fro-Zone” still perform weekly super deeds such as saving innocent civilians from burning buildings. The morals do not only extend superficially as well, the topic of lethal force inherently opposed. Batman's one principle throughout Batman Begins is a strong conviction against lethal violence. The Incredibles show this mercy too when Mr. Incredible refuses to kill Mirage, Syndromes assistant. Heroes cannot only use brute force to defeat their enemies or they themselves would be as problematic as the enemies.

All too often fear equals mortality.  For superheroes, however, they must be impervious to fear and thus invulnerable. "No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again,” Mr. Incredible explains. Every time the hero gets hit, they get right back up, always choosing to face fear head on. Much of what we fear comes from our own mortality. Why does a gun command so much fear? We all fear death. Humans are mortal. Superheroes, on the other hand, and their continued timeless existence, even through the greatest of adversity, teach us that we don't need to be afraid. Bruce's father explains the truth, "You know why they attacked you, don't you? They were afraid of you...All creatures feel fear.” The entire point of superheroes is to instill a passion to do what's right and to support the belief that anything is possible. The ability to overcome fear and do what is right is pivotal. Mr. Incredible feared losing his family, in the end. Batman, himself, creates his entire persona out of his greatest fear, the bat. Without fear, Batman is immortal." As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored. I can be destroyed. But as a symbol...As a symbol I can be incorruptible. I can be everlasting"

Superheroes are ideals, artwork carved from fantasy; an idolization of the unattainable. Their purpose though is not to create faux heroes in real life but instead instill the belief that anything is possible if you always fight for good. They are role models that always have (and always will have), in the face of fear and adversity, conquered their foes. Everyone faces struggles and difficult times. It is how you react to those struggles into that adversity that makes you a hero. "Not every superhero needs powers you know.”

 

Much thanks to Creative Commons and the public domain images used. Creative Commons in no way endoreses any opinions expressed in this blog. Any opinions, views, or ideas are soley of the poster.

Different Strokes: Friendship and Emotion in Action Flicks

        There are times I go to see a film for the craft; the artistry of the director, the once-in-a-lifetime performances, or the technically beautiful design. I must admit though, these are sometimes overshadowed by the times where I get a gallon of over-priced soda and a kiddie-pool sized tub of popcorn and turn my mind off for two hours. In these rare instances and being the manly man that I am, I enjoy the heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, and testosterone filled action films. You know, the ones where the good guy really never gets knocked down and even if he does, he gets up only to beat the bejesus out of someone? A bunch of blockbusters focus on explosions, car chases, and overall excitement while plot takes a back seat (I am talking to you Michael Bay).  That isn’t to say they are not still enjoyable but this intensely Hollywood notion is, thankfully, broken with a few films that are able to intertwine an entertaining storyline broken up with intense action scenes. The most important part of a believable and involving storyline that truly has the audience invested is developed between characters, specifically for our purposes the relationships between the protagonists in two of the best action flicks; Die Hard and Lethal Weapon.

Above: Fiery explosions...the cornerstone of Hollywood action movies

        No one would argue that Lethal Weapon, a film about the pairing of an older “on-the-verge-of-retirement” officer, Murtaugh, and a homicidal, suicidal, plays-by-no-ones-rules cop, Riggs, is a “buddy cop” film. If anything, Lethal Weapon, defines the genre. To say then that the relationship between the two protagonists is anything but critical would be untrue. Throughout the film, the arguable “main” plot revolves around Riggs and Murtaugh being forced to work together to solve a drug smuggling case. The actual case though takes a back seat to the connection the film creates between the two protagonists and thus the affinity we, as the audience, feel toward them. At first glance both are very different people; very different cops. Murtaugh has “been on the force twenty years and not a scratch or a scar” while Riggs is a loose cannon, constantly disregarding rules and putting himself in harms way to get quick results. For example, during his introduction scene, Riggs is held hostage after a failed drug bust and tries distract the perpetrator by pleading to be shot. Each cop though compliments each other in skill and smarts. What Riggs lacks in structure and sensibility, Murtaugh makes up for in sage advice and clever planning. Murtaugh, on the other hand, doesn’t take necessary risks and thus doesn’t see results. 

            Die Hard is not necessarily a “buddy cop” film but to say the relationship between John McClane and Sgt. Al Powell is not touching and important would also be false. Powell, a pudgy desk jockey, is every bit different than the hard-boiled and barrel chested loose-cannon McClane. Throughout the film, their relationship parallels a distinct brotherhood between all cops. Powell immediately recognizes McClane as a brother in blue and thus an unwavering trust is created. The natural affinity they have for each other in the beginning contrasts Murtaugh and Riggs in Lethal Weapon yet both show the common cop mentality throughout.

Above: The same type six shooter as Murtaugh carries.

            The best scenes, interestingly enough, are not the fights or explosions (however much I love them) but the quiet remarks between characters. These are the scenes where the audience becomes most involved and most likely to have a strong reaction. For Lethal Weapon, a vastly important and powerful scene shows Murtaugh and Riggs after a family dinner. Riggs, after some playful banter, indirectly reveals his longing for a family like Murtaugh’s. “I [kill] real good you know…only thing I was good at.” Riggs explains. His skill in this overwhelmingly destructive force cripples Riggs emotionally and he longs for the constructive nature of family. His skill and gall as a cop, however, comes from his lack of dependence on or from others such as a family. A family, or dependence from a partner, might bring Riggs’ skill down since he will not being able to only think of himself anymore. On the other hand, when presented with a surrogate family of Murtaughs, Riggs shows more courage and fervor in protecting them and fighting for vengeance when one gets hurt. Riggs shows his emotional scars however the structure that Murtaugh is able to provide professionally and personally completely changes Riggs’ outlook on life and the beat.

           Die Hard ‘s most involving scenes are also the, by industry standards, “slowest”. Toward the end, McClane is battered, shot, and profusely bleeding. McClane asks Powell why he gave up the patrol for the desk and Powell explains that as a rookie, he accidentally mistook a teenager with a toy as a gunman and shot him. “They can teach you everything…except how to live with a mistake.” Powell explains paralleling McClane’s personal life, whose wife left him after he failed to support her during a large career promotion. McClanes most profoundly emotional moment is when he pleads to Powell to find his wife and tell her he was sorry. The entire plot revolves around McClane trying to single-handedly bring down a hostage situation from inside the building. It is clear from the beginning that he is not doing this for himself; the option to escape being available many times. Instead, McClane is trying to keep his estranged wife safe, his way of showing true devotion to her. These incredible lengths, however, are not nearly as emotional or reaction invoking as the quiet scene where McClane, realizing his slim chance of survival, tries to make final amends to his wife through Powell. “She heard me say, ‘I love you’ a thousand times, she never heard me say ‘I’m Sorry’”.

            Action films are intensely emotional. Most try to pander toward the little pyromaniac kid inside of us showing off intense explosions and shallow characters. A few, however, make us believe in the world on-screen since the emotions captured are so closely relatable to the emotions we feel in life. That, really, is what film is all about: the ablility to take a media that couples a few of our senses and thoroughly tricking us into believing we are actually there. How would you react given that situation? What would you feel? For these two wonderfully emotional and heart pumping action films we see those emotions blatantly in the character development and relationships between the “good guys”.  

Much thanks to Creative Commons and the public domain images used. Creative Commons in no way endoreses any opinions expressed in this blog. Any opinions, views, or ideas are soley of the poster. 

A Well Deserved Tribute to One of Cinema's Unsung Heroes

            For my article this week, I would like to pay a belated tribute to a man who was lost to us early this year. This man is responsible for many classic moments in cinema, and it can be said without exaggeration, that he changed the face of movies in a significant way. I speak, of course, of the late great Bob Anderson. “Who is this Bob Anderson?” you ask, “Why have I never heard of him?” Bob Anderson was the sword master for many of cinema’s classic fights. Beginning in 1953, he choreographed everything from Moonraker to The Lord of the Rings to the Princess Bride duel that I mentioned in my last article. His most famous moment, however came when he stepped into the shoes of one of the great classic villains, Darth Vader.

            Bob Anderson was the choreographer for all of the original Star Wars fights. Every single lightsaber swing bore his signature. While David Prowse played the body of Vader through most of the series, Anderson stepped in for the lightsaber duels in both The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. Both of these fights were extremely grueling, especially in the Vader costume, so it made more sense to put Anderson in the suit because he was more skilled with the weapon.

            If you watch the fight from A New Hope and compare it to the fights in either of the two later films, you can see the difference in body language between the two actors. The original fight is quite blocky with both performers slightly unsure of their body movements. While it works in the scene as Obi-Wan Kenobi is quite old at this point and Darth Vader is, for all intensive purposes, a robot, when compared with later scenes it stands out as being stocky and uncoordinated.

            In comparison, the lightsaber fight in The Empire Strikes Back benefits from Bob Anderson’s technique. Instead of the blocky and stiff style that Vader was using in A New Hope, he switches to a much more fluid one handed style. He keeps the blade inside of his body line for the most part and allows Luke Skywalker to expend his energy in wild attacks. Only after seeing that Luke has tired himself out does Vader go on the attack. Many of his successful techniques come from small wrist movements which allow him to control the other blade, disarming Skywalker in the beginning of the fight and ultimately performing a literal disarm at the end. All of these moves are executed with an ease of movement that lets the viewer know that Vader is the superior swordsman. Without Anderson’s expertise with the weapon or his ease of movement, the story could have easily become muddied, and the fight would not have stood the test of time nearly as well.

            Bob Anderson was one of the many unsung heroes in Hollywood. Without these men and women, the movies that we know and love would never get made, and yet they don’t receive even half of the publicity that the actors and the directors receive. They do it for the love of their craft and nothing else. So here’s to you Bob Anderson! May the force be with you!

 Much thanks to Creative Commons and the public domain images used. Creative Commons in no way endoreses any opinions expressed in this blog. Any opinions, views, or ideas are soley of the poster.

Hooked from the Start

    "There's a hundred thousand streets in this city."

    The black screen fades into a shot of a marked-up map of downtown Los Angeles.  Standing before the window, a man in an enviable white racing jacket embroidered with a yellow scorpion speaks calmly into the phone.  A flashing pink light punctuates the darkness outside the window, where his reflection is blurred by double pane glass.  As he ends the call, the muted television silently announces Toronto is beating the Lakers at halftime.  He picks up an enormous duffel bag and sets off into the night. A quiet beat emerges, barely distinguishable in the background.  I'm intrigued.

    The cinematography in the next scene is so beautifully suited to the plot, I can't help thinking Nicholas Winding Refn directed the film just so he could set up this one shot.  From the passenger seat foot well, a slightly canted low-angle shot shows the character dubbed "Driver" as the light from a streetlamp slowly illuminates, then conceals his beautiful gaze out the windshield.  By this point, I would be fine with the entire film taking place inside cars just to see what new shots the director and cinematographer came up with.  I'm engaged.

    After an appearance by Bryan Cranston, a near-botched armed robbery getaway and some expert use of headlights as light sources comes a car chase that is tenser, yet more subdued than any I've ever seen. Driver masterfully evades the police on three separate occasions, but each scene of evasion involves only one police vehicle at a time (a car, a helicopter, another car).  Swapping impossible cast-of-thousands action sequences for improbable feats by a single skilled driver, the scene constructs a nuanced chase more focused on the movements of Driver's face than of his car.  I'm enthralled.

    A radio sportscast of the Laker game, voiceovers from the police dispatch unit and that old dependable backbeat comprise the three-part soundtrack during the chase.  Each strain could correspond to a different aspect of Driver:  Cautious and informed, he attends to the police radio for each new development in the search for his car; talented and capable, he executes every turn to sportscasters' praise and cheers from the game; ambitious and confident, he completes the job, supported all the while by the steady backbeat.  I'm obsessed.

    What do I know about Driver by the film's ten minute mark?  First off, his eyes are pretty uneven, so I'm predisposed to like him because my eyes are pretty uneven, too.  He is certainly stellar behind the wheel.   He has a great jacket.  He also has the status and the gall to enforce a strict schedule on a disorganized underworld.  He speaks with threatening conviction to criminal clients; armed robbers trust him with the success of their heist and the possibility of their incarceration; he saunters coolly past the policemen who are following the car he's just abandoned.  But Driver's power and mystique are not what make this opening quite so striking.  It is something far simpler, requiring neither analysis nor a cinematic frame of reference, that led me to watch the first ten minutes a full four times before letting the movie play through:  It is just so damn cool.  Many great movies don't have even a hint of that precious, elusive cool factor.

    So watch Drive as soon as you possibly can.  Film buffs and Ryan Gosling enthusiasts alike, rejoice!

Cops and Robbers: Playing the Game on the Big Screen

As a longtime fan of gangster movies, I find it odd that I just saw White Heat (1949, dir. Raoul Walsh) barely a week ago for the first time. Admittedly, I was never in any rush to see this film because I felt that I already had a solid handle on the genre, particularly in terms of its 30's/40's form. After all, if you've seen one James Cagney gangster film, then you've seen 'em all. However, I can honestly say that I was wrong about this one. I profess that I was cleansed of any preconceived notions I had retained from previous experience as White Heat delivered a ripe plot built around a deceivingly simple premise: "coppers" versus robbers.

Instead of being the typical gangster picture that focuses on the rise and fall of a charismatic gangster, White Heat offers the viewer the opportunity to witness an intelligent cat and mouse game that shows an even distribution of strategic game plays between the police force and the gangsters. In fact, through its characters and carefully laid plot devices, White Heat seems to resemble a more recent gangster movie, Martin Scorsese's The Departed (2006) -- my apologies to those who prefer the original 2002 version from Hong Kong, Infernal Affairs -- rather than its own fun yet predictable contemporaries. Both White Heat and The Departed appear to be unique in that they forego the strict chronicling of one gangster's trajectory in favor of featuring the intricacies of the struggle between both sides of the law.

A key tool that aids the otherwise under-represented cops in this fight is the important means by which they gather vital information on Cagney's Cody Jarrett and his gang. In this case, the "means" comes in the form of an undercover agent named Hank Fallon, played by Edmond O'Brien. Going deep undercover as convicted criminal Vic Pardo, Fallon is tasked with becoming close friends with the mentally unstable Cody Jarrett in order to discover how Jarrett gets his stolen cash laundered. Getting close to Jarrett requires Fallon/Pardo to not only earn his trust, but to keep it as well. While trust is initially gained through the single act of Fallon/Pardo thwarting a hit on Jarrett's life in the prison workroom, the maintenance of that trust involves greater commitment. Fallon's commitment undergoes particularly hard testing as he later goes on the run with Jarrett and becomes a witness/accessory to many of Jarrett's crimes, up to and including murder.

Just as Fallon is powerless to prevent himself from being thrust into incriminating situations while working as a mole, Leonardo DiCaprio's undercover policeman in The Departed, Billy Costigan, faces a nearly identical ordeal (for the sake of a direct comparison, Matt Damon's gangster mole in the police force will be excluded from this discussion). Both Fallon and Costigan find it necessary to fully immerse themselves in the shady business of the head gangsters they eventually hope to take down, showing that they are not above using deception and morally questionable behavior to achieve their desired ends. The unorthodox methods exhibited by these undercover cops creates close competition on a more equal playing field between the cops and the gangsters; Fallon and Costigan constitute a larger refusal on the part of the cops to be pigeon-holed as one-dimensional representations of law and order. A noteworthy difference between the two moles is how their final fates are decided according to the acceptable dictates of movie story-telling of their respective time periods: Costigan never returns to being a cop and is killed before he can see himself restored to his rightful identity, while Fallon rejoins the police just in time to shoot Jarrett before the movie ends. Despite this wide disparity between the years 1949 and 2006 regarding the moral ambiguity of cops (1949 allows for no question of police morality, while 2006 keeps the issue open-ended and ambiguous), both films display the cops relying heavily on an undercover agent to drive much of the action against the gangsters.

Perhaps even more impressive than the employment of Hank Fallon as a mole is the general use of stealth and deceit in the careful plans executed throughout White Heat by both Cody Jarrett and the police, led by Philip Evans. Schemes are concocted regularly on both sides; some attempts are successful, while others are foiled. Success rates notwithstanding, all of the schemes managed to maintain my interest in the film in the absence of straightforward violence. For me, Cody Jarrett's most impressive moment comes early in the film when he willingly goes to jail for another man's crime with a light sentence, because it gives him an alibi for his own crime that would surely earn him a seat in the gas chamber. Jarrett's clever evasion of the law through his false surrender is one of two intellectual peaks for him, the other high involving a "Trojan Horse" gas truck (an overused yet consistently effective ruse) near the very end of the film.

As for the cops, I found their various techniques to be more entertaining as they are responsible for creating a majority of the tension. One particularly simple tactic involves a tracking system that allows Evans and his cops to tail Cody's mother, Ma Jarrett, as she drives back to Cody's motel room. The police start by splitting up into three cars, A, B and C, that spread out onto different streets while continuing to drive parallel to each other and communicating over the radio. This parallel driving and communication system creates a dragnet that prevents Ma Jarrett from losing the three-pronged tail by turning onto an adjacent street. The entire scene consists of cuts between shots of Ma looking over her shoulder and shots of each of the pursuing police cars. Tension builds as faster cuts show the cops closing in until Ma finally escapes by pulling a reckless maneuver.

After this initial defeat, Evans devises a more sophisticated tracking system that relies on the intersection of oscillating waves coming from modified radios to pinpoint the route and final destination of Cody Jarrett. In another interesting departure from most gangster films, I didn't experience the trip solely from Jarrett's point of view, but rather I also watched the police chart the progress of his "Trojan Horse" based on the wave readings back at headquarters. This time the tension that comes with the fateful movement of the gangster towards his end is felt on both sides as the police once again compete with the gangster in clever design and for recognizable screen time. A similar sting operation scene is rigged in The Departed, which features obviously more advanced camera surveillance and cell phone communication. Even though the gadgets may always be at the mercy of the next upgrade, the game remains the same: the cops chase and the robbers run.

Speed Freaks: The Car Chase as an Audience Fantasy

            Cars are cool. This mantra has been the focus of countless action pieces throughout cinema. Cars are cool, and the audience likes to see them go really fast. The car chase has a special place in cinema because it is, to an extent, the most relatable action scene in any action film. Most people have not ever been in a fight. Most people have never fired a gun. Certainly most people have never walked away calmly while things blew up behind them. However, most people know how to drive, and, as a corollary to that most people know what it feels like to drive fast. They have never been in a high speed chase, but they know the feeling of flying down the street. Thus, when a car chase is shown on screen, the audience is able to physically relate to the action shown on screen.

Bullitt, the 1968 thriller which contains one of the most famous car chases ever, works extensively on this principle. The chase begins very slowly with both contestants stopping at traffic lights, looking both ways before they go through intersections, and even remembering to put on a seatbelt before the exciting things start happening. The slow pace and attention to actual driving allows the audience to ground themselves in reality before the big chase starts. These are all things that the audience has done before. They know what it’s like to drive in a city. Steve McQueen’s car is almost definitely cooler than their car, but in the end it’s mostly the same thing.

Once the action starts, the sense that these men are driving through a city continues through the entire chase. From the very first moment where the hit men take off with squealing tires, Bullitt is stuck in the intersection as people won’t let him make the left turn. He misses turns and has to reverse in order to get back on track. He behaves like normal people do when they drive through a city; he’s just doing it at a much higher speed than the average person. The audience is able to recognize his behavior and thus they empathize with him through this action scene. Every driver knows the feeling of missing a turn or being stuck due to other drivers not allowing them to turn. These mistakes allow the audience to feel like the person driving the car could easily be them.

While the car chase strikes a familiar chord with the audience, it also serves to allow the audience to live out their fantasies and expand their horizons. As Bullitt speeds through the streets of San Francisco, he is launching off of the terraced hills that dominate the streets. This makes the chase more exciting as cars go flying through the air, as well as creating a situation that exists very specifically in San Francisco. People who have driven through the city know the feeling of going up and down the hills and know that they have to be careful in order to make sure that the car doesn’t go airborne or bottom out on the steep terraces. Bullitt is able to perform these dangerous stunts that the people in the theatre have only thought about doing but are too worried for their safety as well as the condition of their car. For those who have never driven in San Francisco, the film offers several point of view shots in order to immerse oneself in the experience of driving through the city. For either party, this car chase allows them to experience something that would only previously be possible in their minds.

The car chase as an awesome fantasy is used to great extent in the 1996 Michael Bay film, The Rock. Once again taking place in San Francisco, this car chase focuses less on immersing oneself in the car chase and heightening the common experience of the audience. Instead, it focuses on the fantastical elements of the Hollywood car chase and creates a situation that the audience wishes that driving was like.

The chase begins fantastically with the main participants, Goodspeed and Mason, encountering high end, really cool, cars right outside of the hotel in which they’ve been staying. The chase that follows is full of implausible incidents which serve to make the chase that much more exciting. The audience is treated to cars crashing through water bottles, other cars, and shop windows without seeming to get a scratch. Parked cars seem to be filled with c4 and nitroglycerin and explode into gigantic fireballs when the other cars crash into them. None of these elements can happen in a real car chase, but the audience accepts them as they make the chase even cooler. By departing from the real world, Bay is able to celebrate cinemas ability to look cool and move fast without the trappings and constraints of reality.

This chase also focuses much more on the participants as compared to the silent drivers of Bullitt. Mason seems full of one-liners as his humvee wreaks destruction on anything and everything that gets in his way. He doesn’t seem fazed as he drives away from several cop cars. Goodspeed, on the other hand, is much more nervous about what is going on. Though he performs death-defying stunts, he has to think about what he’s doing before he actually does it. Goodspeed represents the audience in this chase just as Bullitt did in his own film. Goodspeed is able to perform all of the cool driving stunts that the audience wishes they could while at the same time not being the typical testosterone fueled action hero. Goodspeed doesn’t own the cool car and he’s not technically a field agent. However, when the time comes to act, he is able to rise to the occasion. After the chase ends, the camera circles around Goodspeed as he delivers his final one-liner, cementing his role as cool even though he started out as a man completely out of his element. In his ascension from normal to cool, he has brought the audience with him as his position as the audience stand in has not changed.

The car chase is absolutely one of the most dynamic pieces in cinema. It often showcases cars that the audience wishes they could afford doing things that the audience wishes they could do. It showcases the ability of cinema to enhance reality in order to make things more exciting, and in that enhancement, it takes the audience along with it. But in the end, the reason that the car chase is so popular and enduring is one thing. They’re really cool.

 

Punches vs. Plot: Storytelling styles of Ong Bak and Ip Man

    In 2003 the film, Ong Bak: Muay Thai Warrior, was released to great acclaim. At first glance, the film should be resigned to the discount DVD bin. The plot is full of holes and borders on the ridiculous, the dialogue is contrived, and the acting is terrible. However, through the star of the film, Tony Jaa, it rises from being a laughably bad film to being a testament to the perfection of physical capability.

                Tony Jaa’s acting through the film can be described as bad at best.  This is only compounded by the script giving him little to work with and the plot of the film itself being ridiculous. However, the film succeeds on the choreography and execution of its action scenes. Tony Jaa is an exception physical performer, and all of the terrible acting that he does while not punching something goes away once the martial arts scenes begin. Instead, his body is able to tell a compelling story as he fights. For example, in his first real fight scene in the film, he is put up against increasingly difficult opponents in an underground arena. During the first fight, Ting, Jaa’s character, is able to defeat his opponent effortlessly. The only time that his opponent is able to touch him is through cheating.  However, the second fighter presents Ting with slight difficulty. Ting has difficulty hitting the opponent at first because his opponent is so quick. However, the viewer is able to follow Ting as he learns the man’s patterns of movement and is then able to counter them, leading to his victory. The last fighter proves to be an even more difficult match for Ting, as he subverts everything that Ting knows about fighting. Having been trained in a small village, Ting is unaccustomed to dirty fighting as was evidenced earlier in his fight against the first opponent. However, the last fighter does nothing but fight dirty, and thus the viewer watches Ting get hit with chairs, tables, plates, and even a refrigerator. It is only through struggling through the brutal assault that Ting is able to finally win. These series of fights shows Ting as a resilient character that is able to struggle through hardship in order to achieve victory. He learns from his previous mistakes and through this knowledge is able to defeat his opponent. This character building and storytelling is all done without dialogue, leaving the viewer to watch Jaa’s body language. While the script of the film leaves much to be desired, the story of a man persisting through adversity grabs the viewer’s attention.

                The 2008 film, Ip Man, takes a diametrically opposite approach to Ong Bak. In comparison to Ong Bak’s thin plot which only serves to support the martial arts, Ip Man, uses the martial arts to support the plot of the film. The fights still tell a story, but their story only serves to support the characterization and plot that has been established through the dialogue and interactions between characters.

                The titular character of Ip Man never seems terribly challenged in any of the fights through the film. He is established early on as the best martial artist in his village, and nothing in the film seeks to change that. At no point does the viewer feel any threat to Ip Man from any of the opponents he fights. Every blow that an enemy throws is either blocked or dodged. The ease that he wins his battles could easily become boring for the viewer as, without a struggle, there is nothing to invest in. However, the story that accompanies the fights causes the viewer to care about Ip Man as a person and thus care about what winning the fight means. In addition, while Ip Man starts off wealthy and happy, the invasion of the Japanese causes his life to spiral downward. He has to struggle in his daily life to feed his family. Thus the viewer’s thirst for struggle is satiated by the plot itself. Once Ip Man gets into a fight, the viewer has grown so attached to him and watched him struggle so much that when he succeeds with little effort the viewer is thrilled to see him succeed.

                Each fight in Ip Man has a different energy to it according to where it falls in the plot. The first fight in the film is a simple sparring match and thus the fight seems more playful and honorable. This is a very different energy than the final fight against the Japanese general. After watching the Japanese brutalize his friends and family, Ip Man savagely overwhelms his opponent with little mercy. The film uses fight scenes in a very similar way that musicals use songs. When the characters reach an emotional level that cannot be expressed in words, they fight. In this way, the fight scenes serve to reinforce the plot instead of the plot serving as a vehicle for fight scenes.

                The differences between the way fights are used in Ong Bak and the way they are used in Ip Man is reinforced by the fighting styles of the two main characters. Ting uses a very flashy version of Muay Thai which is full of flying elbows and knees. It seems that every other move he is launching himself through the air in order to brutally attack his opponent. This is reinforced by Tony Jaa’s amazing physical condition which allows him to perform stunts that most people require wires to do. This style of martial arts creates large flashy action sequences full of over the top movements.  Ip Man, on the other hand, uses a very reserved form of Wing Chun. He makes small moves and only expends the minimum required energy to block and strike his opponent. The action sequences created by this style are sharper, and serve to fulfill their purpose just like the movements of the hero.

                These two films showcase the two different sides of the martial arts genre. Ong Bak is a film that exists solely for the purpose of celebrating physical achievement. The film allows Tony Jaa to demonstrate his physical capabilities. The viewer is less concerned with the plot, but instead simply wants to see what ridiculous stunt Jaa will be able to pull off next. Ip Man instead creates a world in which fighting is normal, but makes it secondary to the film. Instead, it is the points in between the fight scenes that draw the viewer in with the fights scenes inserted in order to drive home a point. However, with all their differences, the two films still come down to the same basic concept. They focus on a man who must struggle against adversity in order to eventually overcome it. The protagonists are both skilled and flawed in their own ways. In the end, both films celebrate the physical prowess of the human body in a way that only the martial arts film can.

 

Prince of Potential: Why I’m Excited for the New Robin Hood Movie

 

  

  During Super Bowl XLIV, I got my first glimpse of the upcoming Robin Hood Film. Instead of excitement, the trailer elicited the following reaction from most of the people in the room: “Really? Another one?” After all, it is reasonable to think that this English folk hero, who has spawned at least five movies not to mention countless television series and books, may be suffering from over exposure. However, after reexamining four of the most prominent Robin Hood features, I’ve decided that these prior versions have all been lacking and that this new adaptation has the opportunity to make an important— nay, an essential— contribution to cinema.

The legend of Robin Hood includes some rather heavy themes like oppression, tyranny and a lot of violence; nevertheless, most of the Robin Hood films approach this figure with a surprising amount of levity. In many versions of the legend, Robin is captured in the crusades and, upon his return to England, sees the suffering of the people of Nottingham at the hands of the tyrannical Prince John. In response, he organizes a rogue band to inflict revenge on this despot. As a result of these conflicts, many people die and undergo gory medieval torture. Moreover, the myth brings up complex questions on the relationship of a ruler to his people and the use of rebellion as a tool for the subjugated.

Despite this mature subject matter, the 1938 adaptation, Adventures of Robin Hood, puts the “merry” in Merry Men. While the characters talk a lot about freedom and Saxon peasants are tortured and killed by the Norman nobles, ultimately, they are acting within a world of bloodless (quite literally— there is death but there is no visible blood) duels, comical villains, and inevitable happy endings. Not surprisingly, the 1973 Disney version also does not include violence and gore. This cartoon does incorporate the serious subtext of unjust governments and crippling poverty, but it is mostly a barrage of talking chickens, bears, and foxes singing optimistic tunes. Thus, while both films foster an awareness and distaste of Prince John’s illegitimate and unjust reign, they do so in a lighthearted manner without the drama and action that could easily be included in an adaptation of this loaded tale.  

In contrast, 1991’s Prince of Thieves is a more grim film and certainly has it share of blood and gore; however, the movie itself is not that good. The film opens with Robin of Locksley, played by Kevin Costner, with a wild beard and tattered clothing, trying to escape from an Ottoman prison. He manages to escape but has to leave his friend behind to a terrible fate. Following this trauma, Robin returns to England and is greeted by the site of his destroyed estate and murdered family. While Prince features these grave elements that the other films lack, I believe one reviewer put it well when he said, “it wasn’t exactly the swashbuckling masterpiece it could have been.”[1] Ultimately, the film fails in that the script isn’t that great and Kevin Costner is hard to take seriously in tights.

In fact, the movie’s over-the-top melodrama and mediocrity made it an easy target for Mel Brook’s Robin Hood version two years later. Unlike the other versions discussed, Men in Tights isn’t really about the Robin Hood tale. Instead, it is about how this legend has been depicted in film. The movie parodies the costumes, excessive gaiety, and homosexual undertones of Errol Flynn and his troop and also pokes fun at the obscene violence of Prince and its attempt to incorporate a black character (seen Morgan Freedman as Azeem and Dave Chapelle as Achoo) into an overwhelmingly white story. Ultimately, this spoof demonstrates that Robin Hood films have had their weaknesses and that this legend still has untapped cinematic potential.

The trailer of Robin Hood (2010) suggests that this new film may have remedied these issues. In this version, there is no shortage of violence, seriousness or bloodshed. Moreover, it seems like it deals with the issues that the other films do— every line in the trailer has something to do with an illegitimate ruler and the right of the people to fight against tyranny— but in a more serious, convincing manner. Most importantly, it might actually be good. The film is directed my Ridley Scott (Alien, Gladiator, Black Hawk Down) and stars the impressive pairing of Cate Blanchett and Russell Crowe. In addition, Scott and Crowe have already teamed up to tell the story of a disgruntled warrior who champions the people and fights an illegitimate tyrant while showing a lot of leg. And Gladiator 2: Un-Shackled in Sherwood sounds pretty awesome to me.

 

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[1] John J. Puccio. Blu-ray review. First Pulished May 22, 2009.
http://www.dvdtown.com/reviews/blu-ray-robin-hood-prince-of-thieves/7014

 

The Modern Superhero (Paul)

  

    The inauguration of Barrack Obama represented the end of an era. He ran on a campaign of change and, for the most part, that's what we are seeing. Change. Gone is notion that the United States can do everything alone. Gone is the notion that the United States is invincible. Gone is the notion that her enemies are entirely evil. Similarity, within the last decade, such has been the evolution of superhero films. 

    People love their heroes. They inspire us by giving us hope that somewhere out there, someone is watching. They make sure that we come home safely. Superman is the ultimate iconic hero saving Lois Lane, and the world at the drop of a hat. But our superheroes today aren't like that. They are brooding, sometimes selfish but most of all alienated. They try to do the right thing but why bother if the general public doesn't want their guardians to be them? Also, our villains have changed. Gone are the maniacal megalomaniacs of yore, replaced with cunning individuals who have their own agenda to save the world. Or they are charismatic sociopaths trying to expose the ugliness in all of us. Either way, both our superheroes and super-villains have evolved from  simple black and white creatures to multilayered studies of the human psyche.

    I think it was Spider-Man (2002) that started it all. While by no means a cinematic masterpiece, it certainly did get its point across: with great power comes great responsibility. Spider-Man learns early on that selfishness, at least when it comes to his powers have terrible consequences as seen with the death of his uncle. Spider-Man 2, released a few years later explored the theme of a hero refusing his quest after accepting it. What does it really mean to be a superhero? Is a "normal life" still worth living? How much should a superhero sacrifice for others. Does he have free will or are his actions bound forever his community?

       One of the great things about Spider-Man is that it does have these questions embedded in a summer blockbuster. It gave life to the notion that maybe it’s not so perfect to be a superhero, that with great power indeed comes responsibility. Later films furthered different aspects the reality of being a superhero.

    Hulk (2003) was director Ang Lee's attempt to as shed new light into the pop culture icon. Instead of having playing up the blockbuster-action appeal of the Hulk, Lee explored how turning really strong and green can affect a person's life. Lee also constructed a complex relationship the Hulk had with his father and attempted to capture that along with the film, too. The result was a slow and confusing film but nonetheless a worthy attempt by a character director piecing together the pieces of a broken individual. 

    The Hulk is unique, in the realm of superhero characters because he is not really a 'hero'. He shows very little true selflessness-he is just a government experiment gone wrong and spends most of his time on the run. Yes, he is ostracized, but not for being a hero, rather for being a freak. 

       Unbreakable (2000), M. Night Shyamalan foray into the genre further develops the identity of a hero. In fact, saying that the movie fits in the "superhero" genre spoils the ending of an otherwise taught thriller. In the film, a man survives a train accident that kills everyone but him. With the encouragement of an eccentric comic book collector, he figures out that he does have traits of a superhero- he has survived calamities that have killed other men, he does have an extra sensory sense that allows him to see what immoral acts people have done and he is really, really strong. Of course, his revelations come extremely slowly and subtly- surviving calamities come in the form of surviving train wrecks. His sense is truly just a feeling that has the happy coincidence of being right. His strength is discovered through lifting heavier and heavier weights.

       There is a particularly moving scene where the man's son, convinced that his father was indeed a superhero, points a gun at him in attempt to prove his father was unbreakable. The man tries his best to talk his son down, that he will die if he is shot. He manages to convince his son to lower the gun and the family sobs together.

       The scene sums up the movie. It depicts the realistic consequences of being a superhero. It even suggests that superheroes themselves aren't aware of their power. Is the only thing separating us from them their power? Even in the scene where the man saves a family, he is painfully human. He falls. He needs help getting up. His superhero suit is a little more than exercise clothes. He barely escapes alive. How can he help people if he can't even help himself? Shyamalan answer is that superheroes aren't necessarily better or different from us. They have the same problems as us: taxes, a failing marriage, a boring job but they are unique in their ability. That's about it.

       What is also remarkable about Unbreakable, is the villain of the story: Mr. Glass played by Samuel L. Jackson. The villain has no superpower and in fact has a disease that confines him to a wheelchair and makes his bones break easily.  He is never outwardly aggressive to the protagonist and is the catalyst that helps him discover and develop his power. But he does bad things. He is the one who caused the train accidents and various other accidents to "discover" the superhero. Sadly, the only thing that the superhero has to do to overcome him is to hand him over to the police.

       Is he really a villain? Yes, he has bad things and yes he is a bit crazy for believing in superheroes but that doesn't mean he's wrong.  If the end justifies the means, is he not justified?  Without the villain's evil could the superhero be capable of doing such good?

    The X-Men films (2000, 2003, 2006) focused on the theme of minority rights. The X-Men essentially are a team focused on combating the terrorist group The Brotherhood of Mutants bent on violently changing the world to suit mutants. Parallels can be drawn to the Civil Rights movement in the 1960s with Malcolm X calling for militant action to change the status quo while Martin Luther King Jr. called for a peaceful change progression. Both carry the theme of minority rights and exclusionary tactics by the majority-which happens to be us. In all three films, the people who aren't mutants are hostile. They stare. They are angry. They are just as belligerent as some of the mutants themselves. The scary thing is, they are supposed to be us. The X-Men films are political. The X-Men themselves face challenges on two different fronts, one from the terrorist mutant group they face, and the other from the people they are trying to help.

       The hard part about it too, is that the X-Men are in conflict with people hate them for being who they are but it’s hard to completely antagonize them because those people are us normal bipedal human folk. On the other hand, they are forced to fight those like them to defend us. Those other mutants are in the minority, like them and like them, push for more rights albeit militantly. How can we fight something that we, too believe for? Because it’s right? What if the people we are defending don't want to be defended by us? What should we do then?

       Iron Man (2008) was perhaps the first film to knowingly alienate the protagonist from the audience. Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark is meant to be unlikeable. He womanizes. He is rich and spoilt. He builds his mechanical suit as a means of escaping terrorists rather than to combat evil. However, the fact remain is that he IS liked. Iron Man was a box office success with a sequel on the way. The film rejuvenated Downey's career! What is it about snarky men that we find so appealing?

       To be fair, Iron Man, besides Downey's character is pretty generic. The love interest with his secretary falls flat with little chemistry. The villain 'Obadiah Stane" is underdeveloped and wants...well, we're not really sure what he wants. More power in the form of a suit? Maybe. But what is remarkable about the movie is that we've grown accustomed to a hero who admits, himself, "I'm not the hero type" and someone who is a bit more self-serving than others. Perhaps its because we like people more like us. Perhaps its because his flaws and not despite them we come to accept him and his journey as our defender.

       On the other hand, Watchmen (2009) suggests that the people who guard us have their own specific set of issues that alienate them from the general public. Only one superhero from watchmen is truly superhuman-Dr. Manhattan who is a naked blue sculpture of man able to do, well, practically anything except walk around in clothes all the time. The rest are ordinary people, like you and I, just with masks walking around with weapons. Most of the Watchmen are disturbed individuals. Night Owl, is a old fart looking back at old days only able to get an erection while in his suit. The Silk Spectre is a nymphomaniac unsatisfied in a relationship with a superhuman. Ozymandius has publicly unmasked himself to be a founder of a multinational organization providing every sort of good and service imaginable. He is also responsible for the deaths of millions in order to for "world peace". The Comedian is adrenaline junkie, a hired hit willing to kill whoever, including JFK. Finally, Rorschach, the most like-able character in the movie is also the most violent. Even Dr. Manhattan, the only true superhero is also the most inhuman. The film focuses on his inability to have feel human after being endowed with omnipotent power. In his famous line, he says "A dead human has the same number of particles as a living one" implying that life or death ultimately doesn't matter.

       Thematically, Watchmen is the darkest superhero movie of them all. World peace is only achieved by the killing of millions and millions of innocent lives. Rorschach, the "hero", of the film ultimately has to die because if not we would expose the truth to the world. Ozymandius, with his infinite knowledge, does the long term "right thing" and each of the Watchmen realize that he is right. Dr. Manhattan leaves Earth because he figures that his presence would only detriment the world. Watchmen, if anything, hammers home the fact that the people who dress up in order to protect us are disturbed and perhaps the right thing to do sometimes, is to kill millions to save billions.

       The Dark Knight (2008), perhaps the most realistic of the superhero films, questions the psyche of a man willing to sacrifice to become a hero. Batman is good, but that doesn't mean he is righteous. This is a Batman who beats up criminals, in a way, to avenge his parents who were killed because of criminals. This is Batman who beats up the Joker while interrogating him in order to get more information. This is a Batman who kidnaps a person across borders in order to put him in jail.

       Still, Batman is good. He is the most relatable character in the movie  (despite being really rich in our current recession). He does bad-ass things in order to reduce the escalation of crime in his city by any means necessary. Fair enough.

        However, this is how his arch-nemesis, The Joker is born. The mob becomes desperate and relies on The Joker to hunt Batman. The Joker crosses the line and is a complete sociopath. But, he realizes ( and the audience, too) that he could have never been brought to center stage without Batman. He, in fact, directly tells Batman that "You complete me!" implying that their struggle keeps both of them alive and relevant. One cannot exist without the other.

       At the end of movie, Batman is hunted by the people he promised to protect like the X-Men. He keeps the truth from being told the public, for the greater good, like the Watchmen. His alter-ego is unlikeable to protect his identity, like Iron Man. And finally, perhaps, most of all, he knows that his drive to combat crime comes with a responsibility to protect others. In a way, he is the superhero of our time because his bound with this incorruptible sense of obligation and out of every other superhero, is willing to sacrifice a comfortable life in exchange for a hard one for what he thinks is right. His sacrifice, and not his non-existant powers, make him the superhero and despite his questionable methods, we like him the most because he does the right thing even when its wrong for him, personally.

       Modern day superhero movies have changed. Along with the action and explosions are embedded themes of minority rights, Machiavellian methods and sacrifice. Essentially, what modern superhero movies are trying to tell us is that superheroes are defined despite their superpower and not because of it. They all have problems like the rest of us but what makes them heroic in the end is their sacrifice. We relate to them more because of that. Ask a movie-goer if they like Superman or Batman more and odds are they'd like Batman because, at the end of the day he is one of us normal-folk. He's just a man who made the right decision in a tough time. They all are. Films, today are just trying to capture what happens after they make that decision to save us.

  

Soviet Montage (Shaken, not stirred) (Chris M)

Quantum of Solace (Forster, 2008), the recently released Bond film, has already brought millions to the box office, including myself.  If you haven’t seen it yet, don’t let this entry spoil it for you.  (Now I know what you’re thinking… this is a Hopkins film blog and he’s writing about the new Bond film?  Just stay with me here…)

If there’s one thing I love about Bond films, it’s the action.  The chases, the fights, the stunts, the cars, the explosions... all so fun.  The director gets us caught up in the fast-paced universe of 007 and we aren’t let go until the end of the film.  Nothing else seems to matter; adrenaline pumps for 106 minutes.  Yet, this weekend, amidst the unending stream of adventure, I couldn’t keep myself from noticing one thing: Soviet montage.  I sat awestruck at how film theory had apparently engrained itself into my head so well that it was popping up during a Bond film.  My mind was suddenly conjuring simultaneous images of James Bond and Sergei Eisenstein.  Oh boy.  Anyway, it’s an experience I feel obligated to share.

Like many other Bond films, the action starts immediately.  In Quantum of Solace, we get thrown into a beautiful Aston Martin right beside James and watch terrified as a number of gun wielding assailants from a trailing car blast hundreds of holes into the side of 007’s car.  The quick cuts keep our hearts beating fast as the superior skills of James Bond impress us time and time again.  As expected, Bond gets away only moderately scathed despite yet another gorgeous car destroyed at his hands.  The first scene gets us ready for what turns out to be one of the most action-packed Bond films to date.  A little bit later, we get our first true montage sequence.

This scene begins with a beautiful shot of Siena, Italy, the setting for the action soon to follow.  We get a brief glimpse of the horse race that will play a pivotal role in the montage sequence.  After a brief interaction between Bond, M, and Mr. White, a traitor’s gunshot initiates a furious chase.  Mitchell, the traitor, sprints away from the scene with Bond close behind.  This is where the montage kicks in.  An exciting, crowd-drawing horse race is juxtaposed to the shots of James and Mitchell.  As the horses run spraying trails of dust behind them, Bond and Mitchell do the same.  As the chase builds in intensity, the horse race begins to implode on its own volition.  One horse stumbles, others begin to collide, and a horse and rider go down.  The crowd closes in on the fallen victims.  Meanwhile, Bond and his target make their way through a series of underground tunnels, eventually climbing out of the sewers and right to the center of the horse race.  At this point the crowd has become frantic.  The chaos in the streets evokes a feeling of chaos in both Bond and Mitchell.  The shots work together both emotionally and visually.  Each action by horse and crowd seem to heighten the action of Bond and Mitchell and vice-versa.  At the end of the scene, the two plots collide, and Mitchell fires shots into the already chaotic crowd.  This creates absolute mayhem.  The final bits of juxtaposition involve a dying pedestrian and Bond avoiding being shot.  It predicts the violent future Bond has to look forward to, and fittingly enough, Bond’s chase ends with a deadly bullet fired from his pistol. 

Later in the film we get another wonderful action sequence of montage.  This time the action takes place in and around a beautiful arena in Austria.  Members of an evil organization have gathered at the opera in order to discuss their upcoming project.  Bond quickly recognizes what’s going on and steals an earpiece to listen in on the private conversation.  He then cleverly interrupts the meeting and begins to pursue several members of the gang.  Again, montage plays a critical role in the action that follows.  The opera becomes the item juxtaposed to Bond’s chase.  As Bond takes off after his enemies, the opera takes a violent turn.  The opera’s female protagonist is draped with blue light as her voice fills the arena.  Bond smashes through the kitchen of a restaurant, a fire starts, and the chase becomes increasingly violent.  Meanwhile, the woman in the opera has obtained a knife.  The increasing drama of the opera plays into the increasing intensity and violence of Bond’s chase.  Ultimately, the woman in the play thrusts the knife into her assailant, and Bond catches one of the men he had been chasing.  When James can’t obtain any information from him, he drops him off the side of a building.  Both stories end violently.

Quantum of Solace is a quick moving and violent film.  The montage used worked beautifully to enhance the emotion in several scenes.  It’s clearly an essential part of film, and it’s great to see it used so prevalently in the latest film of the Bond series.  The next entry I write will focus on a film more “blog appropriate,” but you’ve got to love Bond, especially when it brings a film theory discussion to the table.

Quantum of Solace, 2008. 106 minutes, 2.35 : 1 Aspect. Directed by Marc Forster.  Based on the novel/story by Ian Fleming.