So I got my dad a Looney Tunes 2-disc set for Christmas, and we just watched 14 of the cartoons in sequence. And I've remembered how much I love Looney Tunes--the best cartoons ever, I swear.
This one stuck out in particular. It's all there--the color palette, the matching of sound to motion, the exaggerated facial expressions, the insane violence. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pccO1RBJZL8
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Boo!
(It's high time I actually make a contribution to this blog, so here's something I've been ruminating on for the past couple months...)
For the most part, a "good" horror film is hard to come by. When I say good, I mean a film that stands on its own two feet as being artistically credible; whether it actually elicits jumps or shrieks from the audience, is a different matter.
But I think we ought to differentiate between "horror" and "shock". Mind you, I scarcely ever watch "horror" films, but of the ones I have seen, I've discerned kind of two working categories.
1.) Films that startle you, but which you really can't admit are that great.
2.) Films that really leave an impression, regardless of how startling they are.
The first example of horror that I always come to is Ridley Scott's Alien (1979). The movie is nerve-racking the first time you see it, but in all honesty, the startling moments have lost their touch after the second or third screening.
The thing that gets me about the Alien (and its sequel, Aliens [1986]) is the sense of dread. The music over the opening titles is evocative of something solemn and ancient and the slow pan of black space, tiny stars, and an alien planet establishes a sense of isolation. You know there's something out there, and that it's been waiting for hundreds, thousands of years. It will stop at nothing to kill you, and there's nothing you can possibly do to kill it. Even if you don't encounter it personally yourself, the knowledge that it exists and that you may cross paths with it, is unsettling. It undermines a basic sense of security.
This atmosphere is replicated in The Shining (1980), by the bizarre music throughout, the foreboding titles, and the isolation conveyed through the cold cinematography and the sets of the hotel. It's not the shocking encounters--it's the dread leading up to them.
Another thing that's spooky about Alien is the feral nature of the alien and its utter disregard for human life. It has no motive and no objective--it just wants to kill. The same is true of the shark from Jaws (1975), only this critter eats you. Just think: how much would it suck to be eaten? For the shark, you are no more meaningful than a meal; for the alien, you are no more meaningful than a repository for an alien embryo.
I also found this same effect during the opening credits of Werner Herzog's Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), which features footage of South American mummies against a foreboding score (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxE4yITfRLo). While these images don't pertain to the story, they set the mood rather nicely.
I've mentioned opening titles twice, but seriously, it's often the case that opening titles tell you volumes about the film to come.
For the most part, a "good" horror film is hard to come by. When I say good, I mean a film that stands on its own two feet as being artistically credible; whether it actually elicits jumps or shrieks from the audience, is a different matter.
But I think we ought to differentiate between "horror" and "shock". Mind you, I scarcely ever watch "horror" films, but of the ones I have seen, I've discerned kind of two working categories.
1.) Films that startle you, but which you really can't admit are that great.
2.) Films that really leave an impression, regardless of how startling they are.
The first example of horror that I always come to is Ridley Scott's Alien (1979). The movie is nerve-racking the first time you see it, but in all honesty, the startling moments have lost their touch after the second or third screening.
The thing that gets me about the Alien (and its sequel, Aliens [1986]) is the sense of dread. The music over the opening titles is evocative of something solemn and ancient and the slow pan of black space, tiny stars, and an alien planet establishes a sense of isolation. You know there's something out there, and that it's been waiting for hundreds, thousands of years. It will stop at nothing to kill you, and there's nothing you can possibly do to kill it. Even if you don't encounter it personally yourself, the knowledge that it exists and that you may cross paths with it, is unsettling. It undermines a basic sense of security.
This atmosphere is replicated in The Shining (1980), by the bizarre music throughout, the foreboding titles, and the isolation conveyed through the cold cinematography and the sets of the hotel. It's not the shocking encounters--it's the dread leading up to them.
Another thing that's spooky about Alien is the feral nature of the alien and its utter disregard for human life. It has no motive and no objective--it just wants to kill. The same is true of the shark from Jaws (1975), only this critter eats you. Just think: how much would it suck to be eaten? For the shark, you are no more meaningful than a meal; for the alien, you are no more meaningful than a repository for an alien embryo.
I also found this same effect during the opening credits of Werner Herzog's Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), which features footage of South American mummies against a foreboding score (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxE4yITfRLo). While these images don't pertain to the story, they set the mood rather nicely.
I've mentioned opening titles twice, but seriously, it's often the case that opening titles tell you volumes about the film to come.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
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