It all started with Howl's Moving Castle on a lazy Sunday. My good friend rented the movie earlier on a whim. I recalled watching it while abroad, but the details escaped me. Together we snuggled into one of Miyazaki's fantastical films to date. Eventually it all came rushing back to me and I remembered the scope of his film at once so personal and still so grand. It was both pensive, dreamy, and endearing all at the same time. Then I thought back on some of his other movies and recognized a similar theme. So I went back and watched as many movies as I could.
From Howl's Moving Castle I went on to Princess Mononoke. Onwards I crept to Tales From Earthsea and My Neighbor Totoro. I stalled out there mostly because my local DVD rental shop went out of business and the summer movie season exploded on to local screens. But I still remember Spirited Away, that capstone of Miyazaki films.
One thing I want to celebrate is the music in these films. Sweeping scores performed by entire orchestras carried me off my seat to it's very edge. Battle scenes took all the emotional context of such orchestral grand pieces. Lonely piano keys echoed the character's loneliness. Even the opening song of My Neighbor Totoro (a catchy Saturday morning cartoon theme) sells the tone of the film all by itself. The music, on many different scales, conveys emotion and tone so thoroughly that often entire scenes run on ninety percent music.
The second thing I want to celebrate is the fantasy in these films. Miyazaki's unique blend of period and fantasy in Howl's Moving Castle distinguishes it as a uniquely visionary piece. Not quite steampunk but nowhere near fantasy alone. It toes the line. There's a clear evolution to his work from the pure fantasy of Tales From Earthsea and Princess Mononoke into modern fare like Spirited Away and Howl's with a transition of Totoro to demonstrate his interest in staying periodically relevant. His movies contain magic, and not the kind of magic you can explain but the kind you have to take for granted. Whatever the gimmick it is easy to sea Miyazaki does not waste time explaining.
The third thing I want to celebrate is his character's complexity. In many films whoever starts as the villain becomes a victim later in the film. Miyazaki speaks often about his interest in displaying the complexity of every character. In his films there is no outright villain. The story wraps these punishing characters in it's own melodrama releasing them as protagonists instead of the antagonists they once were. There is no moral black and white in Miyazaki's films.
The fourth thing I want to celebrate is his love and respect for nature. We can debate over the meaning of Spirited Away forever or Howl's Moving Castle forever, but I think they're just extensions of his message from earlier films. Mankind's fractured relationship with nature sets up a majority of his movies creating the source of dramatic tension. In the outright respectful tones of Mononoke we see his most distilled form of demonstrating a respectful relationship or we reap the repercussions. In his later films the consequences of our violent actions against nature take on a more nuanced perspective in the form of anti-capitalist or anti-imperialist sentiments. Either way, they're all just branches on the same tree.
The fifth, and last, thing I want to celebrate is his use of the beat. Miyazaki's films leave me with a sense of serenity. I often find myself finishing a film and staring dreamily out my window to the world around me. His stories take time to develop. Totoro doesn't even appear for the first thirty minutes of the movie. Even when his stories take off and run along at speed Miyazaki takes the cinematic equivalent of a deep breath. They are the moments we remember the most about Miyazaki films: Totoro holding an umbrella over a little girl in the rain, A girl sitting on the train with her friends as it travels, the beauty of a forest lake ensnaring a young warrior. He never rushes the story and these soft beats allow us as an audience to gorge on all the cinematic details I mentioned above. Miyazaki, as a filmmaker, combines elements of many disparate genres to create stories centered around empowered women (even girls) that talk about our relationship with the natural world and give us time to breathe.
I can't wait to watch another Miyazaki film considering the inner peace it gives me. To Mister Miyazaki, I salute you. Please continue making films, under whatever guise you decide. Thank you!
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
A Love Letter To Bloodline: the End of a Show.
1. Florida's tax incentives. In an interview, the show's creators acknowledged their show was cut short significantly. While they planned out for five or six seasons of television ultimately their budget was too high to continue shooting in Florida. Since the show was married to it's Florida look their was no conceivable way to film it outside of it's locale. Take note Texas: when you get rid of film incentives tv shows stop filming there and people lose precious work. Seems pretty obvious.
2. Netflix's mystery data. Have you ever asked yourself why there's two seasons of The Ranch? Nobody knows exactly which show is the most popular show on Netflix. I mean we can all guess. The actual data that says which show attracts which demographics though remains a mystery. I like to imagine it's in a locked box in Netflix's office where Reed Hastings goes to masturbate from time to time. Unfortunately Netflix has collected enough data they can start cancelling shows. After the glut of television, original movies, and media Netflix let loose they are finally starting to reign it in. Obviously big contracts like the Marvel/Netflix comic book originals are gonna stay, but those shows on the fringes (your Hemlock Grove's or your Bloodlines) are finally getting cut short.
So Netflix can't afford to finance six seasons of a show that (as far as we know) is failing. Which is too bad. What we have left is three seasons worth of material crammed into one. Boy, what a whirlwind that is.
The end of season two leaves us on a cliffhanger. The question: Are the Rayburns going to get away with this? The answer seems most likely not. Season three kicks into first gear by starting immediately where it left off. The Family's in deep shit again. Between Kevin covering up a murder, John trying to leave his family, and Meg drinking herself into oblivion roughly seven hours (of actual time) occur. Four if we're being honest with ourselves.
Just when I worried the show lost my interest it does something unique. It changes genres. It was simply a family crime drama, but it turns into a court-case crime drama. Bloodline takes a page from The Night Of's book centering it's drama around the court case indicting Eric O'Bannon. Lawyer interrogations, courtroom reveals, and back channel deals create the dramatic tension we're used to. The 'season' (roughly a four episode run) finds Meg written out of the show, John losing his grip, and Kevin celebrating getting off scot free. As if that wasn't enough this new 'season' brings back minor plots like Nolan's regret over his father, Ozzy Delveccio's dogged hatred of the Rayburns, and Chelsea O'Bannon's love for her brother. The switch reinvigorates the show for a bit.
The final 'season' of episodes centers around what I call the Tell Tale Heart (based off the one Edgar Allen Poe story everybody is familiar with.) John lapses in and out of paranoid psychosis with hallucinations, Kevin falls deeper into his life of crime, and Sally Rayburn renounces the family name. Each of these arcs, mildly developed in the first part of the actual season take front and center now that the narrative's actual drama has come to a head. It's kind of the next question we have to ask ourselves: Can these characters live with what they've done? The answer: no.
What I loved about the first season was the tragic conclusion. The ending of season one felt cosmic and inescapable. Season Two's finale carried all the randomness that violence carries with it. Season Three.... pulls a Sopranos on us. I'll get to that.
Where the first two-thirds of the actual season focused and honed in on the narrative drama (Kevin getting away with murder, the trail framing O'Bannon) the last third wanders distinctly. We get one whole episode with all the cognitive coherence of a Luis Buñuel film. Hallucinations become pretty much standard. Meg is completely gone by now. All that's left is Kevin, Sally, and John. Oh! And Ozzy, Chelsea, and Nolan.
The show wraps up thematically with Sally Rayburn reaching her own inevitable conclusion. She is unable to escape her family's curse and leave the property. Instead, in ten years time, the sea will flood the property taking everything. All of her life's actions are rendered obsolete and it is not to be taken lightly when every evil thing you've done in your life was all for naught. She rounds on Kevin and John with a monologue I have to admit chilled me. We last see Sally Rayburn contemplating the complete loss of her morality as the only anchor in her life (the resort) will inevitably erode to nothing. She has nothing left and no one to share it with. Her legacy will literally be washed away by the sea.
Roy Gilbert dies of a heart attack and Kevin is left with his dick in his hands and the police down his back. Kevin.... tries to escape the DEA. Fails on a technicality. Gets arrested. The most drama his story reaches is when he confesses (by silently staring) to Belle all that's happened. The end.
There are a few themes to this show and the most resounding one is Family. I think it's genuinely the most used word in the entire show. How far will you go to protect your family? John Rayburn confronts his family's legacy and realizes they have left nothing behind but lies, trauma, and lying children. As John comes to understand (through a ghostly visit by Ben Mendelson) all his family does is lie, and it's a cycle. He lied. His parents lied. Their parents lied. He has a choice: break the cycle. That's where we get to the Sopranos mic-drop that is Bloodline's last scene.
Everyone's favorite dramatic closer: a cut to black mid-scene. We're all left wondering. Maybe he will tell Nolan the whole truth of what happened to his father. Maybe he won't tell him. We're left wondering. Which is too bad, because a show about deceit and family trauma should probably offer a little more closure and honesty.
Bloodline. You were a great show to start. Season One convinced me I needed to go to the Keys. I loved the way you teased from day one. I lost my shit when you surprised me with brand new cliffhangers for season two. Then you abused my faith by dragging me around. I didn't realize until it was too late: Ben Mendelson was your anchor. Without his menacing presence we lacked an inspiring plot. Instead we got to watch every character dwindle into self-conceited guilt until the lashing out was inevitable. Season Three you tried to wrap up everything. You didn't do it cleanly. In fact, you left quite a mess. Still, we had good times and I'm going to blatantly ignore all the bad times in favor of your incredibly well paced first season. Sorry, I don't think I'm going to be recommending you much anymore.
P.S. I'm starting House of Cards season five. Please don't be upset. This is what makes me happy now.
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