Posted on 08/02/2004 6:04:08 AM PDT by BluegrassScholar
M. Night Shyamalan's new film, The Village, begins with one of the director's trademark spooky conceits: a preindustrial village separated from the world by a forest full of monsters. It's an apt metaphor for Shyamalan's own hermetic universe. He lives outside of Philadelphia with his wife and children and insists on shooting most of his films within a day's drive. His movies have their own internal schemas, their own calling cards, their own signature sound effects. And the oh-so-polished presentation leads to the nagging question: Is M. Night a filmmaker or is he a marketing plan?
To understand the Shyamalan phenomenon, turn to his high-school yearbook. In a photograph doctored to look like the cover of Time magazine, M. Night is wearing a bow-tie, cummerbund, tuxedo top, and sneakers. The headlines above the photo read "Best Director" and "N.Y.U. grad takes Hollywood by storm." Born in India and raised in an affluent Philadelphia suburb, M. Night grew up ensconced in the world of regulated suburban achievement: polo shirts, test prep, and college stickers covering the rear window of the Volvo station wagon. He may have wanted to be Spielberg, but money would be the measure of his success.
Wasting no time, Shyamalan graduated NYU early. At the age of 21, he was writing, directing, and producing his first film, Praying With Anger. He played the lead, an Indian-American college student who discovers the spirituality of India. Released in 1992, the movie grossed a meager $7,000 dollars. He next wrote and directed a movie called Wide Awake (1998) for Miramax. It was the story of a sports-loving nun, played by Rosie O' Donnell, who helps a boy find God after his grandfather dies. The rough cut was too treacly even for Harvey Weinstein (a soft-touch for little kid movies, especially foreign ones), who unleashed a legendary speaker-phone tirade that humiliated Shyamalan and made O'Donnell cry.
M. Night Shyamalan's new film, The Village, begins with one of the director's trademark spooky conceits: a preindustrial village separated from the world by a forest full of monsters. It's an apt metaphor for Shyamalan's own hermetic universe. He lives outside of Philadelphia with his wife and children and insists on shooting most of his films within a day's drive. His movies have their own internal schemas, their own calling cards, their own signature sound effects. And the oh-so-polished presentation leads to the nagging question: Is M. Night a filmmaker or is he a marketing plan?
To understand the Shyamalan phenomenon, turn to his high-school yearbook. In a photograph doctored to look like the cover of Time magazine, M. Night is wearing a bow-tie, cummerbund, tuxedo top, and sneakers. The headlines above the photo read "Best Director" and "N.Y.U. grad takes Hollywood by storm." Born in India and raised in an affluent Philadelphia suburb, M. Night grew up ensconced in the world of regulated suburban achievement: polo shirts, test prep, and college stickers covering the rear window of the Volvo station wagon. He may have wanted to be Spielberg, but money would be the measure of his success.
Wasting no time, Shyamalan graduated NYU early. At the age of 21, he was writing, directing, and producing his first film, Praying With Anger. He played the lead, an Indian-American college student who discovers the spirituality of India. Released in 1992, the movie grossed a meager $7,000 dollars. He next wrote and directed a movie called Wide Awake (1998) for Miramax. It was the story of a sports-loving nun, played by Rosie O' Donnell, who helps a boy find God after his grandfather dies. The rough cut was too treacly even for Harvey Weinstein (a soft-touch for little kid movies, especially foreign ones), who unleashed a legendary speaker-phone tirade that humiliated Shyamalan and made O'Donnell cry.
Shyamalan now had two bombs to his name and supported himself by screenwriting. There was, however, one chance to turn things around—a long shot. M. Night was in pursuit of the screenwriter's holy grail: the perfect script, one so redolent of profit, star-friendly roles, and greenlight power that the studio executives simply could not turn it down.
Not only did Shyamalan write that script-The Sixth Sense (1998)—he also realized that he had written that script. He flew to Los Angeles, rented a suite at the Four Seasons, and gave the final draft to his agents on Sunday, telling them to auction it off on Monday. Disney offered him $3 million and promised him he could shoot the film. On the Philadelphia set, Shyamalan somehow transformed himself into a disciplined director. He made the film very simply, with long, soothing takes. He coaxed a good performance out of Bruce Willis by essentially requiring him not to act, while Haley Joel Osment turned in one of the greatest natural performances by a child actor. The movie wasn't like a Spielberg film, except for the feeling that you should call your mother afterwards. The closest influence was Hitchcock: the point-of-view editing, the emotional close-ups of actors, the fixation on detail, and the eerie score. It also adhered to Hitchcock's definition of terror: "If you want the audience to feel the suspense, show them the bomb underneath the table." We knew the ghosts were coming to chat with Haley Joel, and that's why we were under our seats.
The Sixth Sense became one of top 10 grossing films of all time, and what does M. Night do with his newfound power? He stays put in Philadelphia, refusing to move to L.A. and play ball. He creates a local film industry around his productions. And most importantly, he begins the process of burnishing his legend. When a reporter asks him what he wanted his name to mean in the future, he replied, "Originality." Access to his scripts in progress is extremely limited, lest anyone reveal their secrets.
(Excerpt) Read more at slate.msn.com ...
True enough - it's possible to get wrapped around the axle with all of the hair splitting this film allows, and nearly all of it is irrelevant. BTW, I don't think unbreakable was about balance, otherwise we would have had the symbolism of Willis dumping the weights because the two paint cans on the right side were empty.
You have touched on some of the points posted earlier. I think the movie has many allegorical images and symbols about life’s' choices. But the full potential of these allusions was squandered on "the twist". That is my frustration with the film - it could have been excellent but was rendered mediocre by an unnecessary plot structure and its marketing as a "monster movie".
Always get confused when people criticize some story/movie because of "potential" they think it had. What is "potential" in this context, what it "could have been"? What "could it have been" in your opinion?
What you're asserting here is that had MNS not been (in your opinion) laboring to make the story have a "twist", the story might not have had the gaps you think you've identified. Right? Just so we're clear.... that assumes an awful lot about MNS's writing process.
An awful lot of people make a big deal about the "twists"....I don't quite understand why.
that causes me to wonder about why you are here
In brief--
1. The article at the top of this thread is truly asinine (you can at least agree with me about *that*, if nothing else), petty, and not only that contains no actual "case against" MNS at all; I said so, and said as much to people who seemed to agree with the article.
2. People keep responding to/pinging me, even 2 weeks later or however long it's been, long after I'd been more than happy to let the matter drop and indeed, had forgotten entirely about the silly thread.
3. Thus, I'm responding back. It's not so hard to understand ;-)
unlike "Raiders", MNS violated the context he created.
I don't think so. In what way did he 'violate' the 'context' he created? The context he created was an isolated Village with a secret reason for being isolated. I agree if you find that situation inherently implausible the movie is a non-starter for you. But it's your loss and to approach a film like The Village with this attitude strikes me as needlessly obstinate.
You and others, presumably thinking this exercise clever, have now gotten hung up on, of all things, contrails. This is a lame criticism and I've already responded to it (1. contrails generally look like long skinny clouds, 2. even if someone sees them & suspects something so what?, 3. even if the Elders have to admit flying machines exist, so what?).
Seriously, let's stipulate to the "holes" you think you've found in MNS's "context". The long and the short of it is: so what?
LOL. Good point. I agree there were substantial continuity errors in that regard. Compare this film to Cold Mountain, which in the first half really focused on the nitty-grittiness of mid-19th century life. Those people *looked* like they lived in 1864.
In The Village, think about what the kids' *teeth* would have looked like.
But the film is supposed to be an allegory, anyway, so I guess realism isn't to be expected.
I can think of a few - H.L. Mencken and George Jean Nathan (theater critic) from the 1920s-1930s. Susan Sontag (a beanie-headed liberal but wrote good essays about science fiction and camp.) Pauline Kael was an entertaining movie critic. I agree that most aren't worth reading.
You might enjoy the film Jacob's Ladder. It's a bit harder-edged and grittier than M. Night movies (especially in the uncut DVD version - I saw the cut version on TV first.) But if you like weird philosophical twists, it's an interesting film.
That would have been a great shirt to wear to the DNC convention.
What you're asserting here is that had MNS not been (in your opinion) laboring to make the story have a "twist", the story might not have had the gaps you think you've identified. Right? Just so we're clear....
Just so we are clear; no. that does not logically follow, and I have already answered this question.
that assumes an awful lot about MNS's writing process.
I'm not assuming squat about his "writing process". I'm only saying I think it would have been better if it had been done differently. And that opinion and a buck will get me a cup of coffee ($5@Starbucks)
The long and the short of it is: so what?
Quite right. So why are you here again?
As you likely know, the character's in MNS other movies were all greatly affected by the plot twist. In Sixth Sense, Malcolm Crowe discovers he is dead and remained on this plane for some great purpose; In Unbreakable, David Dunn discovers Elijah Price is responsible for many tragedies resulting in hundreds if not thousands of deaths all for the purpose of revealing the hand of God (ok, maybe that is reading into it a bit much, but thats how I saw it); and in Signs, Rev. Graham Hess's faith is jolted back into place after he witnesses a miracle.
In the Village, the twist was more for the benefit of the audience and it gave us a few more pieces to the puzzle. The only character that was really stunned by the revelation was the park ranger who first ran into Ivy Walker. And he was touched only slightly since he did not have full disclosure as to how and why the villagers lived in the reserve. Still, just as the elder Edward Walker, the park ranger was left with a choice to protect or sacrifice innocence by either exposing the village to the real world or letting them remain in the reserve.
The other aspect of this film was how the younger villagers dealt with and even confronted their fears. They were unexposed to the real world and knew only what they were taught by the elders (an allegory for how we were taught and how we teach our children). Noah had likely discovered the truth about the village long before we stepped into the story. Perhaps the discover drove him crazy or perhaps he was his mental state allowed him to appreciate the irony he lived in. He seemed to relish the idea of "those we do not speak of attacking" the village. And as we learn towards the end, he donned one of the costumes and chased after Ivy. Told from a villager's point of view, this was a monster movie.
As you can see, I liked the movie and am willing to overlook many of its flaws. I think MNS is a good story teller. Tarantino is as well. They both have similar structures in telling stories but their styles differ greatly.
I appreciate your comments. Thanks for bearing with mine.
Wow... I rushed that last paragraph. Let me try that again...
The other aspect of this film was how the younger villagers dealt with and even confronted their fears. They were unexposed to the real world and knew only what they were taught by the elders (an allegory for how we were taught and how we teach our children). Noah had likely discovered the truth about the village long before we stepped into the story. Perhaps the discovery drove him crazy or perhaps his mental state allowed him to appreciate the irony he lived in. He seemed to relish the idea of "those we do not speak of” attacking the village. And as we learn towards the end, he donned one of the costumes and chased after Ivy. Told from a villager's point of view, this was a monster movie.
Hope that made more sense.
I tend to disagree that Noah knew the truth. It's more plausable that he operated from a simple perspective. But then there was the way he behaved in the woods after finding the costume... Hmmm. Some interresting ideas - I'll have to chew on them a bit.
Noah may have appeared simple, but I think he was actually more in tune with what was going on. He behaved strangely from the moment he is introduced to the audience. For example, he takes the red berries and places them in Ivy's hand. He knew there was nothing to fear from the color red. He laughs hysterically when the creatures are attacking the village. He knew it was one of the elders in the costume. He likely found the costume long before the elders learned he took it to chase after Ivy. Note how the room where the costume was hidden was wrecked, the floor boards ripped open. It wasn't that he just discovered the costume and took off with it. He knew where it was and in took it in a rush to chase after Ivy so he could herd her back to the village.
And if that is the case, his death is the death of the truth. The elders, who would not go into the woods to escort Ivy, or get medicine for their dying family members are fully willing to go there to find Noah and give him a "proper burial", and all goes on as it was. Quite sad.
Yeah, I’m going to have to watch this film again. Although I still think the layers of the film could have been better explored if the audience was in on the secret early.
G.B. Shaw also was a critic--but clearly what he created was more enduring (and endearing) than his critiques.
The death of truth- great comment. I agree, it was sad that the elders chose to continue the illusion. But the alternative would be to expose their children to the both good and bad aspects of the real world. This way, they were able to retain control and protect their children. It is not something I completely understand or agree with.
Earlier in the movie, there is a scene wherein Lucius Hunt confesses he had gone into the woods and was prepared to pay the consequences. To the Elder, Edward Walker, Lucius was a pure and courageous being who was willing to push the boundaries of his world for sake of the others. And his response to Lucius was to approach him face to face and praise his bravery rather than scold him for disobeying the rules. I imagine once Lucius recovered from his wounds, the illusion of the village would either morph into something less sinister or even fade away all together.
Almost three years later, a ping.
I thought the movie was great. Saw it for the first time tonight.
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