I've noticed in recent years that younger generations than my own have become enamoured with more "old school" technology--the kind of thing I grew up with. I've been reading a lot of articles, both in print and on television news broadcasts, about people my nephew's age who have started using flip-phones and landlines as a way of "disconnecting" from the online world. Last summer, I even cited a New York Times article that described a recent interest in DVDs among younger people and why they might be superior to streaming.
Look
at the popularity of vinyl records over the last fifteen years. This
was a dead format at the turn of the century. But younger generations
seem to have embraced it, causing people my age to re-embrace it. Even
cassettes are trying to make a comeback. Personally, I'm still waiting
on the resurgence of 8-Tracks.
From
using cameras that require film, to knitting and crocheting, to making
anything "artisanal," there's a fascination with doing things the
old-fashioned way. It takes time, effort, and not letting a computer or
any kind of machine do all the work. The more automated things become,
the more "artistic" the old ways seem. I know it sounds pretentious,
but it's true. I'll even be pretentious enough to say that there's an
art to driving a car with a manual transmission. Unfortunately, older
methods of doing things only become artistic after newer, easier methods
have become more popular.
I find this especially true in motion pictures. I recently watched Wonder Woman 1984,
which was largely panned by those who saw it. (I have a theory that you can't truly appreciate the good films in a series--like Rocky or Dirty Harry--unless you can also appreciate the bad ones--like Rocky V or Sudden Impact.
But that's a "sermon" for another time.) While I felt it ran long--it
should have found a way to condense the exposition a bit--what was
impressive about it was director Patty Jenkins's willingness to do as
much of the action sequences practically and in-camera as possible. This makes it
look more realistic than just doing everything with CGI. It's more
time-intensive and costly, but the results, even in a "bad" movie, tend
to speak for themselves.
This
is not a new phenomenon. From the beginning of motion picture history,
improvements in technology are often met with disdain by those who
recognize the artistry that was already being used before everyone
else. Take the 2011 movie The Artist. It was a bold move to
release a silent film in the twenty-first century--and in black and
white to boot! After all, sound had been around for almost 85 years at
that point. The film was about a silent film star who struggles to find
his place in the new world of "talkies." It was likely the first
silent movie since... well, Mel Brooks's Silent Movie--which,
strangely enough had one of the greatest lines of dialogue, uttered by,
of all people, Marcel Marceau--in 1976. Because of the artistic nature
of doing things the way they had been done nearly a century earlier, The Artist went on to become only the second silent movie to win the Oscar for Best Picture. (For those keeping track, 1927's Wings was the first. It was also the first film to win that particular Oscar.)
But
that "artistic" struggle actually happened. The notion of sound in
motion pictures changed everything. In the century since, we can't
imagine film without it. It's created jobs to everyone from recording
engineers to screenwriters who now have to write dialogue--hopefully
good dialogue--for the characters. But for many silent actors, it was a
threat to their very livelihood--especially those who didn't have great
voices. (For more on this check out the classic 1952 musical Singin' in the Rain.)
It's
probably safe to say that no one took this existential threat more
seriously than Charlie Chaplin. This week's film was his first film
that he released after the advent of "talkies." Although it is silent,
it does have a pre-recorded score. The film centers on his "Little
Tramp" character falling in love with a blind flower girl who mistakes
him for being wealthy. Chaplin spent three years and a then-unheard sum
of $1.5 million dollars to make this movie. Of particular note was the
scene in which the flower girl (played by Virginia Cherrill) thinks
Chaplin's Tramp is someone he's not. Chaplin shot the scene 342 times
over several months because he could not figure out how to convey to the
audience in a silent movie how the case of mistaken identity actually
happened.
The
film went on to be one of Chaplin's most financially successful films
despite the lack of sound or dialogue. To this day it's regarded by
many as his masterpiece. Chaplin--who eventually went on to use sound
in his films--often said this was his favourite of all his movies. As
with his other films, he not only starred in it, he also produced,
wrote, directed, and even performed his own stunts. A work of art if
ever there was one, from 1931, please enjoy City Lights.
Until
next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember
that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for
you.
Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
